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.