Some Slight Schedule Schanges

One of the most exciting things about this Ghanaian adventure that I am living is that things are always developing, from my relationship with my host family to my understanding of culture to my enjoyment of traditional dishes (fufu, banku, kokonte, ampesi with palava sauce... yum!). Included among these dynamic components of my life is my exact schedule--when I will be living where and for how long. Over the weekend, after visiting a monkey sanctuary where I got to hand-feed a banana to a monkey, our program coordinator shared an update about our schedule for the rest of our time here.

[here are some of the monkeys I got to see on our trip last weekend... perhaps their names are Jessica, Chet, and Hudson?]


Currently I am still working in Accra, the capital, and will be until early January. On 6 January I, my four fellow Bridge Year students, and our two coordinators will travel to Kumasi, the second largest city in Ghana, where we will stay for about 5 days' mini-orientation prior to the second phase of our Bridge Year volunteering. On 11 January we will move in with our new host families in a village an hour or two outside Kumasi, and on 12 January school will resume in the nearby middle schools where each of us will be assisting teachers and perhaps leading some lessons. School will close for the year on 15 April, soon after which our group will return to the city of Kumasi for about three weeks of working together at an orphanage. If everything falls into place as we hope, we will spend the last three weeks in May together in one of the northern regions completing a group project. Our final few days in Ghana will be spent back in Accra, bidding farewell before our 31 August departure for the US.

I know that you are keeping me and the rest in your prayers, and as I ponder how it will be to move to the village and then to Kumasi and the north, I am grateful to know that you are supporting me and thinking of me!

Adwuma, adwuma!

"Work, work!"
Adwuma yε. "It is good to work."/"Work is good."

This is a typical greeting and response among co-workers, and one that I can expect to hear from my supervisor, Mr. Amuzu, about once a day. Seeing as I haven't written much about work lately, allow me to share with you some updated attitudes toward my job at the Office for Students with Special Needs at the University of Ghana. The words themselves are a little outdated (each month, one of the five of us Bridge Year students writes an update on our experience on behalf of the group, so when it was Cole's turn to write about November he asked us to fill out a survey about work so that he could write about it, my complete answers to which I am sharing with you here; check here to read the finished update), but the thoughts are still pretty relevant. So without further ado, my answers [and a few updated thoughts]...


Q: What has been your most challenging experience at work so far?

A: Rather than a single experience, the most challenging aspect of my work has been the helplessness I often feel when I recognize a problem that is outside the realm of my ability to fix it. Whether the "problem" is a lack of adequate equipment [or space], a particular student's impairment, or an organizational issue [of the sort that happens in all offices], I often can do nothing to solve it. For example, one problem is that there is simply a huge volume of text to be scanned, edited, and Brailled, so some students don't receive their course materials until two weeks before exams; however, I can't solve this by working faster than I already do.


Q: Do you feel that you are "making an impact?" Why or why not?

A: In short, yes and no, but I can elaborate. Because the scope of my work is limited to scanning and editing, whether I make an impact of visually impaired students' learning through the materials I prepare for them depends mostly on whether the students do their readings--most do, but some don't. However, enough do that I know my work is good and worthwhile--for example, a level 600 students who is pursuing his law degree. I can delude myself into thinking that my impact is minimal when I think about not creating lasting change in the Office for Students with Special Needs (because the staff there are highly competent and capable of affecting their own change), but my real impact is evident though the students who learn and perform better because of my work. If I am not "making an impact," it is only because of my own misguided perception of my work.


Q: What has been your most rewarding experience at work?

A: My rewarding experiences are all pretty small: handing a blind student a Brailled copy of a text that I scanned and edited, learning from a deaf students how to respond, "I'm fine" when he signs, "How are you?", and sending a completed volume to my supervisor to be Brailled. It is also particularly rewarding to have my work affirmed. My supervisor once told me that although I should keep showing up at 8:00 am, my productivity would still be unusually high if i didn't come to work until 11:00 am.


Q: Now that we have reached the halfway point of working with these NGOs and University Organizations, are there things that you would like to change for the remaining time? Goals, attitudes, approaches, etc.? [This survey was distributed in early November, and I completed it on 11 November. It is hard to believe that I have only about a week or two left at work before Christmas and then our move to Kumasi!]

A: Being that I essentially work at a desk job in an office, I would like to be intentionally more relational. My coworkers and the students we serve are quite friendly and not shy to engage me in a conversation, but I can let myself become so focused on the amount of work that needs to be done (or the intriguing content of my work--political theory, the world media prism, 19th century West African history, communication theory, macrosociology...) that I don't often venture outside the "me ma mo akye" ["good morning to you all"] realm. When I have had extended conversations, they have been fascinating, so over the coming weeks I am going to strive to me more relational to catch some more Ghanaian culture, build friendships, and practice Twi! [Update: Especially as the volume of our work has been reduced as the end of the semester is imminent, I am glad to report that I think I have been very successful at pursuing my goal! I have learned a lot about perceptions of wealth, America, marriage, and more through conversations with my coworkers. One of the reasons that I was hesitant to talk more was that I was self-conscious about my still-inadequate ability to converse beyond the basics in Twi, but I now understand that there's nothing wrong with using English even as I practice Twi. After all, learning Twi is important, but so is learning culture, and expecting myself to have a sophisticated conversation in a language I have been studying only three months is an unrealistic expectation that would inhibit my understanding of Ghanaian culture.]


Q: How does your experience differ from what you expected? What did you expect coming here to work for a volunteer organization?

When I considered what working for a volunteer organization might be like, I think the best way to describe what I imagined I would be doing is "forging"--forging relationships, forging solutions, forging a new path of change. (Come to think of it, maybe forging isn't the best word because of its possible meaning of falsifying/forgery, but in the "blazing a trail" sense it's exactly what I intend.) Rather than innovating and pioneering, though, I am filling a set role. Some days I feel distinctly like a cog--functional and necessary, but replaceable. But I know I do good work [though sometimes I am liable to be discouraged by the apparent monotony of it], and I don't mean this despairingly; on the contrary, the fact that I am an interchangeable part reflects well on my office, for it means that it will not be crippled by a void in leadership or vision come early January when we move to Kumasi. Although my role is much different from my expectations, I am glad it means my office is organizationally sound.

[at work editing a text to be Brailled for a visually impaired student]


[my wonderful coworkers!]



So, dear friends, I leave you with a little insight into my work, at least as it has been for the last three months. With changes on the horizon come 6 January and our arrival in Kumasi, I can't predict what work will look like in another three months, though I do know I will be working as a teacher or teacher's assistant in a middle school. As I have learned, any expectations I have of work will probably not prove to be spot on--but I am looking forward to what the new stage of work and life in Ghana will bring!

Also, here's a link to a short video spot that is part of Princeton's alumni giving campaign and features the Bridge Year program if you are interested in viewing it.

Wo ne Nyame nkכ; me ne Nyame ntena.
You and God should go; I and God should stay.

Thanksgiving is not just for November!

Hello friends,
It's been a while. Are you healthy, and happy? How is life treating you? Has it been well? Let me tell you now, before you read any further: I am thankful for you!

I have just returned from vacation, and being away reminded me of just how incredibly thankful I am for so many things--your support among them! But let's begin back when it was still November, on Thanksgiving Day to be exact...

As you might imagine, I had quite the atypical Thanksgiving. It began early as usual, with a refreshing bucket bath to start off the morning. I had planned to meet Kathleen and Aria (my Ghana sisters and fellow Princeton Tigers class of '14) for a trip to Makola market, a sprawling region of Accra where you can buy just about anything that the average person in Ghana would need, that morning, and so I hustled to catch a tro-tro to meet them. At Makola we hoped to explore and do a bit of preliminary Christmas shopping before meeting up with our Ghana brothers, Cole and Nick, to see a movie at the mall and then venture out for our version of Thanksgiving dinner. Though assailed by unidentifiable scents and occasionally distracted by a stray chick underfoot, the three of us ventured through the cramped isles between stalls. Having dressed for the celebratory occasion in African garb, women in the market called out to us: "Akosua, wo ho yε fε paa!" / "[Generic name for any white lady, but specifically an Akan/Ashanti woman born on a Sunday], you look very beautiful!" Some stopped us and asked our names, others tried very forcefully to sell us shea butter, and others just laughed appreciatively when we told them, in Twi, that we were from America but had been in Ghana for three months. Makola was hectic, it has sweaty, it was friendly, and it was overwhelming.

We wandered about, greeted and haggled in Twi, avoided being hit by renegade taxis, and eventually emerged to purchase a massive mango with a pineapple to accompany it as a noontime snack. While it was obvious that we were still quite conspicuous and, in the eyes of many of the people we passed, a little of an oddity in a typical Ghanaian market, I was not greatly bothered by this. I realize that going to the market was exciting for me in a way that it probably never will be for the thousands of people who go there daily, who don't have the alternatives to this teeming human hub that I do, who can't just wait another six months to go back to the US or have something mailed from there to here if they can't find it at the market, who might not even have the option of going to a chain store like ShopRite at the Accra Mall when they want a little less chaos. And yet, though I and most of the Ghanaians at Makola don't share the same experience when we go there, the sights we see are the same, and so are the smells, the sounds. Like most things I do in Ghana, I will never do them quite the same as Ghanaians do or experience them in quite the same way, but the mere fact that I am experiencing them and grappling with them is significant and important, and I am thankful for the opportunity to do so.

After leaving the market, succulent mango and sweet pineapple in hand, we caught a tro-tro to the Accra mall, a location which embodied the difference between my Ghana life and that of many of the Ghanaians I met in the market. Of course, plenty of Ghanaians frequent the mall, and some shop for groceries almost exclusively at ShopRite--after all, the Accra mall is a fairly ritzy place, especially in comparison with Makola market, but it is not only for foreigners. However, the distinction between the market where average Ghanaian shops and the mall where we now found ourselves was striking. Humbled, I was thankful for the incredible and undeserved privileges I have been granted and reminded not to take them for granted.

Aria, Kathleen, and I met up with Cole and Nick at the mall, and after obtaining the movie schedule, selecting a movie, finding out it was not actually playing as per the schedule, settling for our second choice, and spending a few hours in the theater absorbing the film, the five of us gathered our belongings and headed first by tro-tro and then by a very cramped taxi to Osu for Thanksgiving Dinner.

[a tro-tro ride...]


We strolled down Oxford Street, the focus of activity in Osu, until we reached Haveli's Indian restaurant, which had been recommended to us by Kathleen's friend from work. Not quite sure what to expect as a couple of Americans entering an Indian restaurant in a part of Ghana known for being frequented by oborunis (foreigners), we nevertheless filed in. No one else was in the restaurant, which was warm and authentically furnished with the lights slightly dimmed, and as we were shown to our seats at a table appropriate for a banquet but slightly imposing for a group of five, our waiter obligingly switched on the air conditioning for us. After perusing the menu we ordered, chatted, and awaited what proved to be a delicious--if eclectic--Thanksgiving dinner. Each of us shared a few things we were thankful for, and though our gratitude was spread widely, all of us seemed to be thankful for, in addition to the unique things, similar things: our families and those supporting us during this year, and the incredible privilege that each of us has to be in Ghana.

[Nick, Kathleen, and I at Thanksgiving dinner...]


Following dinner we met Yaw and Clara, our incredible program directors, for ice cream before taking the long tro-tro ride back home. As soon as I arrived at my house to find everyone asleep, I called my family back in the U.S., and was fortunate to get to talk with my parents, my brothers, and almost my entire Dad's side of the family: the perfect end to a day of thanksgiving!

The next morning the five of us, along with Yaw and Clara, set out for a five-day vacation to the Volta Region, the easternmost part of Ghana, which borders Togo. I won't offer you a travelogue on a day-by-day basis, but I can assure you that it was everything a vacation should be: fun, exciting, relaxing, and wonderful! Being able to be instantly understood when speaking English at my typically rapid rate and with the usual idioms was a simple change from my daily life in Accra, but even that capability was a welcome freedom. We simply had a fantastic time. Let me share a couple of pictures with you:

[learning to weave kente...]


We learned how the Ewes, the primary group of people who live in the Volta Region, weave kente cloth by observing some very skilled weavers and then trying our suddenly clumsy hands at it. The cloth is woven into strips a few inches across and then created by sewing about twenty strips of cloth together to make a large piece of fabric. The Ashantis of central Ghana (who speak Twi and are the primary residents of Kumasi, the capital of the Ashanti Region, where I will be moving in about a month) also weave kente, but Ewe kente differs in its patterns.

[dressed for the shrine: Kathleen, Cole, Nick, Clara, me, Aria, and Kwakukye, our gracious Ewe-speaking guide for the weekend...]


Though a shrine is not somewhere I would go on my own, visiting briefly was an interesting cultural experience. We met the chief priest and the chief priestess as well as a group of drummers and musicians who performed traditional music and dances before we were given the chance to ask a few questions. The particular shrine we visited claims to worship one supreme being through the vessel of a lesser deity called Tobia Awia (which may not be spelled correctly?) who communicates directly with the chief priest. We were not allowed to wear our usual clothes or shoes to the shrine as doing so is a taboo.

[dancing agbodje, a traditional Ewe dance...]


Some weeks ago we took a lesson in this traditional style of dance, characterized by vigorous shoulder movements slightly akin to flapping like a bird, and the lesson has come in handy on many occasions when we have been called upon to perform! The dance is a war dance, depicting a battle, but it is performed at almost any community events, from weddings to funerals to festivals and anything in between. Our skills are certainly improving!

[the beach...]


On the last day of our vacation we spent a little time at the beach, which was positively amazing. I think no further explanation is needed :)


And so, friends, I have much to be thankful for every day. As I begin my last month in Accra, I am overwhelmed to think that already my time in Ghana is 1/3 over, but when I look back at the last three months, I am stunned by gratitude. Surely, God is good!

Love to all, and my thanks as always for reading and caring!
Jessica

For your entertainment pleasure

In Twi class we have learned a few simple songs, primarily children's songs... like this one:



Kyerε wo ti
Kyerε w'aso
Kyerε w'ani
Wo hwene, w'ano, wo kכn.
Me wo nsa mienu
Afuru keseε
Nan mienu.
Me nsateaa yε du
Me nansoaa nso yε du.

Show your head
Show your ears
Show your eyes
Your nose, your mouth, your neck.
I have 2 hands
A big belly
And 2 legs.
My fingers are 10
My toes also are 10.

My Akua has a last name, it's...

On Sunday, when I attended church with my host mother for the first time (my other host family members all go to different churches, so over the course of the last two months I have had quite the sampling of local churches), I was invited to the front to introduce myself to the congregation (and, to my surprise, to sing a song--thankfully we had learned one in Twi class the previous week!).

"Yεfrε me Akua," "My name is Akua," was not sufficient, though, because my host family has given me another name, too, a last name: "Yεfrε me Akua Afriyie." "Akua" is my name because I am a female born on a Wednesday, and "Afriyie" is the second name given to a baby who has come at a "good time," such as when her receptive family has plenty of food and maybe even financial resources to send her to university someday. I don't know if this link will work, but if it does, there is some interesting (if a bit academic) information on Akan names here.

I agree with my family: I am Akua Afriyie, for I have come to Ghana at a good time.

Life According to Tro-Tros

For Twi class, one of our recent assignments was to pay close attention to the tro-tros we passed on the road and to collect a list of the sayings that appeared on them. Tro-tros, if I haven't adequately explained them, are best described as lumbering vans that comprise the primary component of public transportation in Ghana. Generally, they are privately owned, but their owners hire a driver and a "mate" (someone whose main role is to collect fares from tro-tro riders and signal, through shouts and generally recognized hand signs, where the tro-tro is going) to handle the daily grind of transporting people back and forth, to work and from work, day in and day out. The owner will generally require a set amount of money from his driver, perhaps 10 cedis per day, and permit the driver and mate to split whatever profits remain after fuel costs are paid. (For the sake of context, note that the total fare for my daily commute is usually about 85 pesewas: 25 pesewas for a trip from my junction to a larger one, and another 25 pesewas for the tro-tro from the larger junction to work, and finally 35 pesewas for the ride home directly from work to my junction, and that although tro-tros vary in size, the most commonly appearing ones can carry about 21 passengers at a time and are often at or near capacity.) Almost every tro-tro I have encountered is emblazoned with a saying on the back, sometimes funny ("Still Cracky" above a picture of Jesus), other times poignant ("Dear Boy"), but usually insightful.

Here is a list, unedited and unabridged, of the random sampling tro-tro sayings that the five of us collected, as well as their translations:

Aseda bεn? (Which thanks?, as in How should I thank God?)
εnyε me ko. (It is not my fight.)
Bisa Awurade. (Ask God/Jesus.)
כkyεso Nyame. (God takes time to do things.)
Nyame bεyε. (God will do it.)
Nyame ye. (God is good.)
Wo haw ne sεn? (What are your problems?)
Awurade di yεn kan. (God leads us.)
εyε mmerε. (It is time.)
Mpere wo ho. (Don't rush.)
εnyε Nyame den. (It is not too much for God.)
εnam obi so. (It is through somebody.)
Nyame yε kεseε. (God is big/great.)
Wo daakye nti. (It is because of your future.)
Yesu nti. (It is because of Jesus.)
Twεn Nyame. (Wait for God.)
Yesu mo. (Well done, Jesus.)
εyε Awurade. (It is God/Jesus.)
Awurade kasa. (God/Jesus, speak.)
εyε adom. (It is grace.)
Gye Nyame. (Except God, as in Nothing can harm me except God.)
Tumi wura (Power-owner, as in God)
Awieeε nti bכ כbra pa. (Because of the end [of the world], live a good life/behave well.)
Sereε nyε כdכ. (Laughter is not love.)
Fa wo ho bכ Yesu. (Join yourself to Jesus.)
Mpaebכ tiefoכ (Listener of prayers)
Yesu Mogya (Jesus' blood)

Here are a couple scenes of my tro-tro stop across from campus, also for context:





There's a lot of analysis to be done on this, I think: What do the constant references to God, grace, Jesus, and faith in general mean? As my friend Kathleen wondered, are most Ghanaians (at least in the south--the north is primarily Muslim) so reliant upon God in every way that they simply can't help to declare Him always--even on their tro-tros--or do these sayings just signal the continuation of some unexplained trend to write Christian-y things on tro-tros?

I guess bumper stickers are the equivalent of tro-tro wisdom in the United States, so what do they mean? Do they speak louder than the literal meaning of the words they contain? If people looked at America from the perspective of a curious child stuck in traffic, left with no entertainment alternative than to watch the bumper stickers crawl by, what would they conclude?

I can't say I have much of an answer to these ponderings, but I invite you to join in a little speculation.

More Things I Understand as Normal in the US

4) Thinness equals health.
This is circumstantially true in Ghana, particularly on the University of Ghana campus where I work. Indeed, in my simple skirts and plain (UV-shielding and insect-repelling!) shirts, I sometimes feel like a naive country girl in the middle of a land of high-fashion supermodels when I meander around during my lunch break. However, in other situations, health is judged not by thinness but by having a little extra cushion, especially in the older generation.

Since coming to Ghana, I have been conscious about eating as healthily as I reasonably can when many foods are full of starch or carbohydrates and almost anything (fish, yams, chicken, rice, dough, plantains, cassava...) can be fried, and I have also be running 20-30 minutes most mornings each week. This, as well as the fact that the tailored dress and skirts that I bought soon after arriving are slowly becoming looser, leads me to believe that I have lost at least a little weight since coming to Ghana. However, on occasions when I dress up by braiding my hair or wearing some of my African clothing, without fail at least one of my host family members (and more likely two or three of them) will tell me, "Jessi, you look so nice and fat today!" Indeed, the following conversation took place between me and my 13-year-old host brother just last week...

Kwesi: "Jessi, you are looking very nice and fat today!"
me: "Hmm. Well, that is what you and Sister Adwoa [our house help] want, isn't it?"
Kwesi: "Yes!"
me: "Why?"
Kwesi: "So that when you go you will be big and you can sit on your brother's leg!"

Of course, this is not the most logical of reasons, but an alternative reason that my host family so vehemently wants to "make me big" is, as my host mother described to me, that when you become ill, it is usually helpful to have some excess weight as a buffer while you heal.

Regardless of the reason that being "big" is considered by some to be desireable, I suspect that all it really means when I am "looking nice and fat" is that I look pretty, me ho yε fe paa!

5) Making friends takes effort.
Most days when I am walking to or from work or my tro-tro stop, I make a new friend. People are pretty forthright, and so after approaching me and engaging in the usual pleasantries, they direct the conversation thus:

"Wofiri he?" Where are you from? (Mefiri America.)
"Wote he?" Where do you stay? (Mete Adenta.)
"I would like to take you as a friend. May I have your number?" / "I will take you as a friend. Give me your number."

More on social dynamics in a future post, but for now suffice it to say that this method of social interaction has been somewhat disconcerting for me, since I cannot predict who is genuinely interested in my friendship, who is just intrigued by my obroni-ness, and who has sketchier motives.

6) To buy food, you should go to the grocery store or a restaurant.
In Ghana, although I rarely do because I have either just eaten breakfast or am on my way home from work, I can buy the following things from vendors along the route that my tro-tro usually takes:
Chilly Yoghurt (a yogurt smoothie drink)
cashews
sachets of water
whole loaves of fresh bread
doughnuts (large or in doughnut hole form)
sugarcane
papaya
chocolate
FanMilk (either ice cream, yogurt, or frozen chocolate milk in a sachet)
meat pies
cornmeal scones
Malta Guiness
Sprite, Coke, or Fanta


The list is larger, of course, but where would the intrigue and suspense be if I revealed all the intricacies of my Ghanaian life in contrast with my American life all at once? (Plus, the internet cafe time I have bought is dwindling...)

So here I leave you in love and with many good wishes from Ghana. I hope you are all looking very nice and fat! :)

(a post-script to the "time" post)

P.S. As a side note, if I have whetted your language appetite and you are interested in learning a little bit more about Twi, click here for history and here for an English to Twi dictionary. Twi study is going well, but one thing I have learned is that understanding conversations from context clues is very tricky, as many common words have multiple diverse meanings. For example, "te" can mean to stay, to understand, to hear, or to smell, while "yε" can mean we, to become, to make, to be (well), or to do, among other things. Nanso mesua daa εfiri sε mepε sε mete Twi paa! / But I study every day because I want to understand Twi very well!

Time as Suspended and Fluid

Here in Ghana, we run on what is playfully regarded as "African time." Take the following example:

Last weekend I went with my host family to a wedding in Tema, a suburb of Accra which--dependent upon traffic--is about 45 minutes from my house in Adenta. Although the traditional marriage (the formal marriage agreement and requisite exchange of gifts between the two families involved) had occurred months earlier, I, along with my host family, was invited to attend the wedding ceremony on Saturday and the thanksgiving service on Sunday. The Saturday ceremony was lavish and joyful: family and friends crowding the elegant Catholic church, high ceilings and wide open interior not simply inviting but commanding us to sway along with the music as the gospel choir joined the highlife band to lead our singing, the bride and groom seated at the front of the church as they ignored the heat and trickling perspiration and just beamed. For what Onyame has joined together, no one should separate.

Sunday morning, a lingering happiness in my heart, I arose punctually for my morning run through my neighborhood. The sun peered through a bit of haze and the air, as usual, was humid, but the morning was fresh and my house was engulfed in preparations for the post-thanskgiving service reception: cooking outside in large pots, donning the kente cloth finery in celebration. I had been advised that I would attend a Pentecostal church with my two older host brothers, Junior and Kwabena, before meeting the rest of my family and our gaggle of houseguests in Tema for the thanksgiving service between 9:00 and 9:30. Expecting to leave around 8:00 for church, I had run, bathed from the usual bucket, and eaten and was ready to go by 7:30 (which fortunately afforded me enough time to do some last-minute ironing of my new African print dress!). But 8:00 came and went, minutes slipping by until around 8:35 when the three of us finally set off for church. Already skeptical that we would make it to Tema in time for the thanksgiving service to begin, I mentally calculated that we would have to leave church by around 9:00 to be able to attend a reasonably large portion of the thanksgiving service. We arrived at the Pentecostal church at 9:10, just as the sermon was beginning. (Since the service had already been going on for about an hour, the vibrant singing and praise portion was nearly over.) Around 10:45 we set off for Tema, but not before I was introduced to the pastor and offered a bottle of papaya juice at a small "first timer welcome" meeting.

In the end, we arrived at the Catholic church in Tema just before 11:30--scant minutes before the end of the service. Yet we had arrived, and we jovially greeted the bride, the groom, my host mom, and the myriad houseguests without even a hint of sheepishness or apology: we were there, and the time at which that became true was inconsequential. African time.

It would not be fair to say I am "subject" to African time as if I were an unwilling participant; rather, it has been easy for me to discard my usual preoccupation with timeliness and embrace the chance to be there when I am there. If my younger host brothers, Kwaku and Kwesi, want me to walk with them to school, I will, though I know waiting for them will make me arrive at work at 8:20 rather than 8:00. εyε bכkככ, it's cool, it's easy, it's all good; my coworkers will be trickling it around then, too. When my tro-tro is hopelessly mired in traffic during the morning commute, εyε bכkככ; although I hesitate to be that tourist by snapping picture after picture of my every day routine and that of my tro-tro comrades, at least I can record these moments mentally.

In contrast to this view of time (εyε bכkככ!), regardless of individuals' political affiliation, economic status, career, or any other factor, it seems that one thing that wields power over Americans' collective existence is the clock. Evidently, this is simply not true in Ghana, and over the last two months, it has not been true for me. (Rather than the clock, the thing that seems to wield an analogous power over my existence here seems to be the mosquito.) Time exists--it must, as part of God's natural order--and yet in Ghana it is no imposing taskmaster. Rather, its application is fluid. Words for precise times were not even part of the Twi language until European influence was established in Ghana, attested to by the facts that "Abכ sεn?", what time is it, literally means "It [the clock, introduced by Europeans] has struck how many?", and "כprεm ato" (noon) refers to the cannons (כprεm) that were fired from European forts at noon every day during the colonial period. Time has always been, but its precise measurement has not.

And so here I am in a place where clocks are not revered and time is fluid. I am suspended in time. Most days, I am aware on some level that I will be going back "home," back to the United States and pancakes and winter and calcium from dairy products, after some time--and yet εyε bכkככ. When I think of home or my mind meanders to May 31, I have no internal countdown clock. I am not uneasy, confronted by dread that someday I might have to leave or overwhelmed with a yearning to get back to all things familiar; time has loosed its grip in that sense.

In a way, part of me (the part that has taxes to pay or party invitations to respond to) is still in the United States, and that part is subject to the hurry of the clock and the press of the daily planner. The other part of me--the real part, the one that breathes, gets dusty feet, prays, and likes waving to the children who cry out, "Obroni!" when I pass them in the street--is in Ghana, though, and this part lives by time, not the impositions or demands of the clock. Rather than being commanded by the clock, I am suspended in time. African time.

Things I Understand as Normal in the US

1) Continuous song play on the radio.
The radio seems always to be on at my house. The station varies, but it usually is tuned to either a gospel station with intermittent sermons dispersed between the songs or a "hiplife" station. (Hiplife is the modernized, hip-hopified version of traditional Ghanaian highlife music, which is has something of a Caribbean feel to its mellow, keyboard-enhanced, smooth sound.) Curiously enough, when I am listening to a song, usually on a hiplife or American pop station, the songs are interrupted every 20-30 seconds either by a DJ's announcement or the station's jingle, or perhaps even by clips of the daily news. "...you can stand under my umbre-'It's Kwame B!'-ella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh, eh-eh-eh..." I guess Ghanaians' attention spans can be as short as Americans'.

2) Calcuim from dairy products.
Luckily for me, my host family is very hospitable and tries to make me feel as comfortable as possible, whether by permitting me to occasionally forgo the traditional fufu with smoked fish stew and eat chicken nuggets instead or not laughing too hard when I spew forth some serious(ly flawed) Twi, and so I actually do get calcium from dairy products such as the milk and cheddar cheese they buy specially for me. However, one evening after finishing my meal--a mound of rice garnished with a deliciously spicy tomato, garlic, and ginger stew, some frozen peas, and a chicken leg--our house help said to me, "Jessie, it is okay that you don't eat the chicken skin, because there is so much fat there. But why do you never eat the bones?" Perplexed, I responded that I don't usually (ever!) eat bones in America, but she informed me that I ought to because they have "so much calcium to make [my] bones strong." Crunch, crunch! I can now add to my list of new foods I have tried in Ghana chicken bones.

3) American table manners.
I came home late the other evening to find my host mom, Helina, sitting on our porch and enjoying the cool breeze along with a meal of kenkey (mashed fermented corn with a consistency somewhere between smooth grits and mashed potatoes, but a little firmer) and pepper stew.

"Ena, maadwo, good evening," I greeted her. "Yaa nua," she replied, "Mepaakyɛw, bra ne yennidi, please, come and eat with me." So I sat beside her and took in my fingers a glob of kenkey pinched from the lump from which she was eating, and dipped it in the stew where she had dipped her glob, and wrangled away a piece of the sardine she was eating, and put it in my mouth. "Only very close friends eat this way," she told me.

Eating with one's hands is normal here in Ghana, and I have quickly learned that it is not a pleasant experience to consume a steaming bowl of omo tuo ne nkateɛnkwan, rice balls and peanut soup, on laundry day after my knuckles are rubbed raw. Yet there's something comforting about just eating, not worrying about whether this fork is indeed for the salad or whether I should have saved it for dessert. Of course, Ghanaian table manners are different in other ways (eating with the left hand is inappropriate, so I have learned to be proficient with a fork in my right hand on the occasions when I use one; savoring one's food by eating slowly is uncommon; belching at the table is not viewed as particularly offensive), but no matter who you are with, you will probably be invited: "Mepaakyɛw, bra ne yennidi."


These are just three of a multitude of differences I have discovered over the last 6 weeks (6 weeks?!), and there will be more to share. Tomorrow and Sunday I am going to a wedding, which I expect will highlight even more cultural differences for me. For now, enjoy the few pictures I have been able to upload, and I assure you that you are in my thoughts and prayers. Yɛbɛhyia!

The Bridge Year Website is Online!

... And you can access it by clicking here. Go to "Meet the Volunteers" and find me under "Ghana Volunteers," or read the "Updates from the Field" to get a little better idea of what I and the other four Bridge Year students have been up and even see some pictures.

Just popping in...

Hey all,
I am at a loss of what to tell you, but take that as a good thing! To be succinct, life here in Ghana is good. Work is coming along, slowly and tediously but steadily. My homestay family is simply great; it is good to be staying with them! Yesterday after church I bought my younger host brothers a football (soccer ball), walked around the neighborhood with them, and got a fruit cocktail Fanta with my friend Lawrencia who lives one street over. My four best friends are doing well at their jobs and with their host families, and we are all settling in very well to living in Ghana.

For now, be assured that I am alive and well, and that my thoughts are percolating--if I shared them now, though, they'd just be watery and lukewarm.

And so I leave you for the time being, assuring you that you are in my prayers. Onyame adom, yεbεhyia bio. Nante yie! / By God's grace, we will meet again. Walk well!

Love,
Jessica

Sensationalism?

Finally it is the weekend! I am looking forward to going to Krobo-Odumasi, which is about an hour or so away from where I am staying, with the other four students and our two leaders on Saturday and Sunday. While we are there we are going to have a bead-making workshop, meet the chief and some elders, and hike up a mini mountain--basically a tiny vacation!

After some more serious posts, I thought it would be a good time to share a little more detail about Ghanaian living from the perspective of an obroni. However, I admit I don't know where to begin. Ghana is, well, different, but at the same time it is becoming my different. This connection with and appreciation for Ghana is what I wanted when I came here. But I think I also wanted more: the unattainable goal of really, fully living in Ghana. I now realize that it is a goal I don't want to entirely achieve, because to completely immerse myself in Ghana would be to deny that I am, under the thin veneer of Twi, transportation competency, and familiar faces in my neighborhood near Accra, an American. Essentially, to reach my goal of being in every way in Ghana would be just as unfortunate a use of the opportunity that brought me here as leaving my mind at home even as my body resided in Ghana. I want to be in Ghana, but I need to be me.

All that is to say that I don't know how to share my experience/my life at present with you because I fear that I will sensationalize it. How can I portray to you that everything I want to share has to be understood in a context that I can't transplant? How can I share honestly but still do justice to this contradictory but wonderful country?

Let me share some details because my time at the internet cafe is winding down, and promise to explain my fear of sensationalism in a little more depth at a future point.

Most mornings I awake around 6:00 or a little before to take a bucket bath, dress, and eat breakfast (sometimes cornflakes, other times a fried egg sandwich) before leaving for work. Often I get a ride with my host brother, Junior, but on days when he leaves early I take a tro-tro, which is a privately owned van-bus vehicle that operates informally but reliably, carrying about 23 passengers at a time to various junctions around the city. For this I pay 35 pesewas (about 25 cents) for a direct trip, or more commonly 50 pesewas if I have to go first to the market and then catch another tro-tro to the University of Ghana where I am working.

For lunch I generally wander around campus and buy from various vendors a lunch of a baby pineapple (20 pesewas), a small papaya (20 pesewas), and some sort of muffin or meat pie (bewteen 20 pesewas and 1 Cedi, which is equivalent to about 65 cents). I have also had a whole coconut, opened by machete, for 50 pesewas, and found it a wonderful lunch. I test out my Twi to greet and interact with the vendors, some of whom now greet me with the title "m'adamfo," my friend.

After a tro-tro ride or two home, I eat dinner and then spend the evening with my host family, talking, playing games, journaling, or just sitting around as families tend to do. I retire ("Merebeko da!"/"I am about to go to sleep!") around 9:00 after bathing and personal devotions and prepare to repeat the process in the morning.

That's all for now... Details, analysis, and expounded thoughts to come. Love from Ghana!

Working, MusicMusic, and Milo

Let me begin by saying a huge THANK YOU! / MEDAASE! to everyone who has been following the blog, and especially to those of you who left me comments; it was a wonderfully pleasant surprise to find them all when I logged onto the internet this week. I well know that I am loved and supported by many, and as many times as I state it, I will always be sure to say it again because I am so grateful. Thanks!

This week has been one of settling in. As of my last post, I admit that I felt a bit tossed to and fro, but now I feel much more comfortable and a part of the life that teems around me. I have a (slightly) better grasp of my host family and its make-up, I have wandered my neighborhood to do a little exploring, and I have reached an unspoken agreement with our house help: if she feeds me more reasonable portions, I will clean my plate! (So far I would say things are working out well, although I have come back from work a few days to find a new stock of sachet ice cream [FanIce] or glass bottles of Sprite and Fanta awaiting me.) Having my two younger host brothers, Akwesi and Kwaku, show me around, teach me Twi, and let me watch Tom & Jerry or the Bernie Mac show with them is not quite the same as having Chet and Hudson around, but it is still comforting.

As for work, things also are going well. At first I admit to having been disappointed with how I felt things were going; after all, when I imagined doing volunteer work with NGOs in Ghana, I anticipated that I would perhaps be working with street girls (as my fellow Bridge Year student, Aria, is), assisting in a school for autistic children (like another of my friends, Kathleen, who is working at the only school in Ghana that serves autistic kids), teaching and coaching young kids (like Nick, a third Bridge Year student), or working with a training program that gives job skills to individuals living in a slum (as the final of the five of us, Cole, is doing)--something more "hands-on" or development related. Instead, when I go to work from 8:00 to 3:30 three days a week and 12:00 to 3:30 the other two, I scan pages of handouts, edit them in Microsoft Word, and press "Emboss" so they will be Brailled by our Braille printer. Though I did hope that I could affect change through improving access to classrooms for the physically impaired and mathematics courses for the visually impaired, I am realizing that these problems require long-term investment and a lot of engagement with slow-moving bureaucracy... and that ample time is one of the things I lack.

However, things at work really are going well. Although when I came to Ghana I imagined that I had a lot of skills to offer an NGO, and I did not anticipate spending my days working in an office and doing tasks that almost anyone could do, I realize that this experience is an exercise in humility. Perhaps I could do something a little more creative or specialized than scanning and editing pages upon pages of political science handouts, but I know this work is necessary. Our office is understaffed, and so I play an important role in ensuring that students with special needs (particularly visual impairments) have equal access to education, even if it is not quite the role I imagined. In addition, when I reflect upon the work that my fellow Bridge Year students are doing, I sometimes catch myself thinking that the students I serve, though still deserving of assistance and support, simply don't have the same degree of neediness that, say, a young teen living with her infant on the street does. By nature of the fact that they are at the University of Ghana, the students I serve are already privileged beyond many of the individuals with whom Kathleen, Cole, Aria, and Nick are working. Yet, I have come to understand, that does not make these students unworthy of my service in any way. Simply, through my work so far in the Office for Students with Special Needs, I have been humbled because what I have learned is that my work is important and worthwhile regardless of how I envisioned that it would be. I have met wonderful people through my office, and am excited to continue exploring ways that I can assist the community of students with special needs during this semester--and perhaps even longer.

As for my life outside work, I am truly enjoying Ghana. To be sure, I am still "just here," but that is as I wish.

Last evening I went with Cole, Kathleen, and Clara, one of our two wonderful program co-ordinators in Ghana, to be part of the studio audience for a live taping of MusicMusic, a weekly music performance show featuring popular Ghanaian artists that airs live on the nationally televised channel TV3. It was great fun! Cole and Kathleen were chosen, along with two Ghanaians, to participate in the Crazy Dance-Off, during which they took the stage and danced their wildest and craziest for three minutes (on live national TV no less). In the end, Kathleen emerged victorious and won a CD and t-shirt, plus the admiration of those in the audience. According to Yaw, our other co-ordinator who watched from home, I also appeared in some shots of the studio audience. We are taking the Ghanaian media by storm!

My time at the internet cafe is nearing its conclusion, but let me conclude by assuring you that I am staying healthy by making sure to drink plenty of Milo (pronounced mee-loh), which is basically like Ovaltine. That way I make sure that I get all the essential vitamins, as well as my daily dose of ash, which is listed among the nutrition facts as accounting for 4.7g out of every 100g of Milo. So please don't worry--Thanks to Milo, I am doing very well!

Until later,
Akua
("Wednesday-born girl" in Twi)

I'm a footballer!

Pardon the lapse in communication; I have to admit that I thought (somewhat optimistically) that internet access here would be easier, but that is not the case. I actually consider myself fortunate to have an internet cafe about 15 minutes by foot from my house, although it is pretty slow. Internet access is internet access.

Allow me to update you on some changes since my last post...

I have moved in with my host family, the Adu-Gyamfi family of Adenta, which is a district in the Accra region. It is a large family with many guests, so I am still figuring out who is actually a member of my immediate host family, who is a relative, and who is simply passing through. My host mother works at a Pentecostal church, and is consequently very active both in church activities and hosting visiting clergy. I have two host brothers who are 12 and 13, and so far they have been my guides to the neighborhood, culture, and Twi! In my house are also a few women (my host sister and cousin) who are close to my age and work in Accra, an older host brother who is an accountant at a hotel, and a house helper who adheres strictly to her self-prescribed duty of "making me big" by feeding me more than I can ever eat at each meal. (On a side note, so far I have eaten goat tongue, smoked fish, snail, fufu, and many other new foods!) Living in such a varied and dynamic household has its challenges, but everyone has been very friendly, accommodating, and welcoming, and I am thankful to have the chance to stay with my host family.

As for my volunteer position, I have been assigned to work at the Office for Students with Special Needs at the University of Ghana in Legon, which is the main campus of the university and has, I have been told, about 40,000 students. I began on Thursday with a half day and spent the day on Friday working in the office. One of my primary responsibilities so far has been to scan, manually edit, and emboss in Braille course materials, handouts, and readings for visually impaired students, which is a tedious job. Because it is early in the semester there is a large volume of text to be translated into Braille, but I hope that soon I can begin to work on a larger project or assist students with special needs as a notetaker in lectures. I learned that many students with physical impairments have difficulty accessing their lectures because not all the buildings are suitable for wheelchair use, and some visually impaired students are unable to take math classes because the University does not have the capability to translate mathematical equations into Braille, and even if it did students would have to take a class (which is not offered there) to learn to read Braille math. These two issues are some I would like to study in hopes of affecting some sort of lasting change beyond the good but less permanent work of translating text into Braille. I know that, given only four months, I may not be able to do much, particularly as I do not have connections or very much cultural awareness, but nonetheless I sincerely hope for the chance to investigate these problems.

Since I don't work on the weekends, tonight I enjoyed playing football/soccer with some of the guys who live on my street, including Cole, another Bridge Year student who lives two houses down from me. Although my team lost (4-5), I scored a goal, which was impressive not only because I am a female but also because I am an obroni (foreigner)! Much of the rest of my free time I play games with my younger host brothers, including Ludo (which they taught me) and Traverse and Scrabble To Go! (which I brought from home).

Overall, Ghana is a good place and a hard place, a welcoming place and a harsh place: a contradiction. One of the most economically prosperous and politically stable countries in Africa, Ghana is often held as a standard to which other African nations should aspire. However, it is not without poverty. Some of the roads are paved, but many are not, and even the ones that are often run through such densely populated areas and markets that there is a constant danger of hitting a pedestrian or being hit by a car. It seems that everything here, from the trees to this keyboard, is always enshrouded by a fine layer of the red dust that is constantly swirling around--and yet almost every Ghanaian I have met puts my modest skirts and blouses to shame with their clean, pressed clothing.

People I meet here always ask me if I love Ghana, and usually all I can say is that I like it here. It is a wonderful country, full of people ready to offer an encouraging or happily surprised laugh when I test out my few phrases of Twi, but it's not home yet. Perhaps the coming weeks and months will change me and make me ache to even think of leaving, but right now I simply am here: not longing to return home, but not enamored of this confusing, beautiful place. It is just good to be here.

As usual, thanks for reading and supporting me! Be blessed. And, since it's evening for me here, let me wish you a good night and sweet dreams, or at least try to do so in spite of my (in)ability to properly spell Twi: Da yie!

Wo ho te sen?

Me hoye. This is about the extent of my knowledge of Twi (pronounced chree) at this point! I am not sure of the spelling, but it means, "How are you? I am fine." Actually, we have been learning greetings, market bargaining, and numbers, and it is difficult but not impossible.

To back up, four other radically cool Princeton students who also deferred their freshman year (Kathleen, Aria, Cole, and Nick) and I have been in Ghana since Monday evening and are adjusting well. I am presently at an internet cafe with dial-up internet and so will not post too much, but wanted to ensure you that we are doing well and enjoying the culture, even as we are learning to struggle with the hard facts of daily Ghanaian life that rest in the background of each day. We are staying at a hostel for university students, but on Sunday or Monday we will move in with our host families. Over the last few days we have visited four of the five NGOs (non-profits) that we will be working with, one of us at each: an autism training school, the office for disabled students at the University of Ghana, a development project and skill training center in a slum of Accra, and a community-building athletic facility. The one we will visit tomorrow serves street girls and their children.

There will be more news later... For now, you can go to this link for an article about our Bridge Year orientation for a week at Princeton. I'm quoted if you read far enough, and I'm barely visible at the far right of the picture at the bottom with, clockwise from me, Aria, Nick, Kathleen, Cole, and Yaw, our program coordinator.

Ye da Onyame ase! / We give God thanks!

Farewell! (but not forever)

This is my last night in La Crosse, and it's hard to believe this day has come! Over the last few days I have said my goodbyes to family, church family, and friends, and it has been tough, and yet as I now look at my suitcase, backpack, and small drawstring bag all packed on the floor and ready to go, I know I must be ready. I leave not without some sorrow--I will miss the closeness I feel here at home because this is all so familiar to me, and it's hard to leave it all behind. This trip, I know, will mark a shift, the end of one period of my life. But I know that another phase begins, and as it does I go buoyed by prayer and supported by many back home; your friendship is a cherished blessing to me! Thank you.

Allow me to elaborate a moment on communication. As you have read to your right, I will be able to receive letters from the United States (and other countries, I guess). According to the research I've done, it should cost about $0.98 to send a postcard or regularly-sized envelope to Ghana, and about $1.18 to send an oddly-shaped envelope, like a square one. Please remember that I cannot receive packages, as they require payment not only when you send them, but also before I can receive them--sometimes as much as $60 to $80. If you send me a letter, it needn't be anything too elaborate or fancy; I would simply love to hear from you! I would welcome a picture or two if you wish to include one, but really I would just like to keep updated while I'm gone.

If you need a little bit quicker method of reaching me, you may either email me at jessica.n.haley@gmail.com or comment on my blog (super easy: click "0 [or whatever the number happens to be] comments" at the bottom of each blog post next to where it says the time I posted, then type your comment on the page that opens and press "post comment"). However, as mentioned in the address column, please be aware that my internet access will be via internet cafe (I am not bringing my own computer) and therefore intermittent at best. After I leave the capital city at the beginning of January, I will not have much internet access, and you can expect blog postings to slow accordingly.

That's all there is from me for now; I am going to bed so that I can spend my last few morning hours in La Crosse hiking up to bluff to watch the sunrise.

I thought I was done packing, but then I remembered to bring my thoughts

For the past 3 hours, I have been inventorying and beginning to pack all the things I have bought so far for my trip to Ghana. The view of all the things I have purchased laid out on my floor is quite impressive! I intend to have a list prepared of everything I bring, down to the number of wet wipes and length of miscellaneous nylon rope, for two purposes:

1) I will not have to dig through my entire suitcase to find out whether I ended up bringing acetaminophen, ibuprofen, or both, and

2) I will be able to inventory what I have left at the end of nine months so that future Bridge Year participants can compare my results against the official packing list I was given to know what they might want to pack

It was an exhausting ordeal, and

not simply because of the length of time it took or the fact I realized that I still have many things to do before I leave (buy gifts for my host families, find a better quality alarm clock, try out Malarone for malaria prophylaxis to make sure it doesn't give me weird dreams--not too weird, at least!). Packing was emotionally wearying, too. As I tried on my personal mosquito head net (note the fashionable model to the left!), I was struck: Even as I wish to go to Ghana not to study there, to learn there, to stay there, or to volunteer there, but to live there, I am insulating myself against certain parts of life there.

I live a comfortable middle class life characterized by the pervasion of an array of safety nets, carefully arranged so that I am protected against most of the difficulties of life that are every day realities for so many other individuals. When I am sick, I can soon obtain an appointment with my doctor, or if needed in an emergency, receive medical attention within minutes. If I am thirsty, I never worry whether the water I am drinking is sanitary. When a pair of shoes wears out I know I can purchase any style I want as a replacement pair, and if I need a product that I can't find in a local store, I simply select and order one online, sometimes going as far as to specify when I would like it delivered.

Though I realize that the safety nets of medical care, water sanitation, and even fast nationwide shipping of basically any product do let many Americans slip through without arresting their fall, these protective nets nevertheless exist. In Ghana, the situation is slightly different. Please note that Ghana is considered a model for many other African nations in terms of its economic development, education system, and peaceful transfer of power among politicians. Its capital is a cosmopolitan city with a population approaching two million, and it is the country chosen by President Obama to visit in July, presumably out of respect for its stability and good reputation. However, life in Ghana is not supported by all the same safety nets that I, from my privileged position, have come to accept as normal.

While packing, I have struggled, because I know that with each additional item I bring--the second water purification device, a third Nalgene bottle, another bottle of hand sanitizer--I am protecting and preparing myself as well as trying to preserve my safety nets as best I can. One of my deepest desires when I decided to participate in the Bridge Year Program in Ghana was that I would truly live in Ghana and integrate myself into life and community there. I did not, and do not, want to come as an anthropological tourist, dressed as if I were on safari with my individual mosquito net fastened around my head as a barrier not only against insects but also against being an average member of the community where I live.

I realize I will be different, and probably never quite average, if only because of my funny, Americanized Twi accent. But I do wonder how I can expect to understand life in Ghana when I bring so much of my life with me to Ghana. The mosquito netting (at least for my bed, if not my skull) is necessary to keep me safe from malaria, but why is it that my safety against malaria is so much more highly sought than that of any of the people I will be meeting? My water purification systems will make sure I maintain the sanitation I am used to when I drink water, but why should I be so much better protected from giardia and other bacteria, viruses, and protozoa?

I know myself, and I will inevitably struggle with these questions. That is just me--I think the questions were born in Haiti. But I nevertheless look forward to these next nine months with excitement, anticipation, and open wonder: safety nets or not, personal mosquito head net or not, I am anticipating Ghana!

Countdown to arrival in Princeton: 7 days

Countdown to arrival in Accra: 13 days

Program Overview Document

If you are interested in getting a slightly better grasp of what my life will look like over the course of the next 9 months in Ghana, please click here.

PackPrep

I am now deep into preparations, which so far have included testing out a sort of contact lense that can remain in for 2 weeks straight, pondering the merits of Insect Shield clothing versus regular applications of bug spray, submitting myself to various shots and tests, and obtaining a visa for my passport. So far, so good.

There are many things left to do and many things left to buy, but as I spend my last 3 1/2 weeks (that is such a short time!) here at home I intend to remember to live the moments as they exist, to not become so entrenched in what is coming on August 31 when I arrive in Ghana that I forget that it is not yet August 31. I don't know what I will miss the most in terms of material comforts (though you are welcome to take a guess on the poll to your right), but I am realizing how foreign it will be to call other people my "brothers" or "parents" after I leave my family behind and meet my host family--even if their titles are preceded by the clarifying prefix "host."

The Ghana Adventure Begins

Before I applied to Princeton I had heard a little bit about the new Bridge Year Program (see this link and this one for more information) through various admissions media, and although I found it fascinating and appealing, I felt it was reserved for someone other than me. The idea of applying seemed, at first, like entering a raffle: you enter because the prize would be great, but you know it's always someone else who wins.

Nevertheless, I did apply after furiously writing two long and two short essays and completing a thorough evaluation of my skills, submitting my application on the deadline of May 14, 2009. As usual, I was frustrated for having procrastinated the application and worried that I had made some obvious mistakes or omissions, but realized there was little more I could do. Still, I had a bit more hope; I wondered if perhaps I could be one of the twenty students chosen. I pondered my essays. I considered my strengths and weaknesses. I thought about how different life would be if I were accepted. I wondered whether I would even accept placement through the Bridge Year if offered the chance. I waited.

On May 19, I discovered that I had been offered an interview with the Bridge Year Program director and a Princeton professor, which I arranged for May 21. At the time I did not know it, but the interview signified that I had made it to the second tier of the application process. The interview itself, completed via Skype at my kitchen table (only after removing the small statues from Haiti that were behind me to make sure it did not look like I was trying too hard), went well, and I hoped that I would be offered a second interview with the Bridge Year partner in Ghana, World Learning.

Because the application and selection process was so condensed (applications were due May 14 and applicants were to be notified by June 10 of their acceptance or rejection), I did not have long to wait before my second interview, meaning I had made it to the final tier of selection. I was one of seven applicants vying for five spots in Ghana. Despite many technical impediments and dropped calls on Skype, I completed the interview with one person in Croatia, one in Ghana, and two in Vermont -- plus me in Wisconsin!

Then, after waiting a few days longer, I received an email (excerpted below) and a congratulatory phone call from my parents at 4:30 am local time while I was visiting a friend in Germany.

Dear Jessica,

Congratulations! We are delighted to offer you admission to the Princeton Bridge Year Program in Ghana for the 2009-2010 academic year. You are one of five highly motivated incoming Princeton University students selected to participate, and we are very pleased to welcome you as a Bridge Year in Ghana volunteer.

So here I am! More to come regarding shopping, packing, forms, and other fun things...