Soma Me:

Katie

2012-01-28T21:50:00.003-06:00

http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/since-christ-is-all-katies-story
http://kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com/

I would almost say that I want to be like my sister in Christ Katie when I grow up, but do I? Oh Lord, make me willing. Show me my desires and my fears and my indulgences. Make me unwilling to be anything but what You've called me to be. If Your presence does not go with me, do not bring me up from here--and yet if it does not stay here with me, make me go. Jesus, You are beautiful.

Things I Have Going for Me

2011-12-22T15:38:00.000-06:00

1) I have a home (and a dorm, and a home in Ghana).
2) I've never had to prostitute myself for money.
3) I can choose to fast but I've never been forced to.
4) I can wear a scarf and a sweatshirt and a down vest and huddle under a blanket in front of my fireplace.
5) If I don't shower, it's my own fault.
6) I own at least 5 Bibles.
7) I can choose which clothes to keep, which to donate, and which to return.
8) I've never had to turn to drugs, alcohol, or sex for affirmation or love.

Obviously, only the material things; the biggest of all is knowing that I have a Savior in Heaven, and His name is Jesus.

Pilgrims Travel Light

2011-12-17T14:25:00.006-06:00

My phone vibrated at 6:15 this morning, and I, snuggled comfortably and contentedly in my bed--mine, at home!--but still curious, fumbled around on my nighstand to see who might be calling me at this hour. "P.P.OD," announced the glowing screen. It had been several months since we'd talked, so I picked up: "Hello?", but not the usual "hell-O?"--no, "HA-lo?" And a little confusion ensued, since the connection from Ghana wasn't great:
"Akua?" / Jessica?
"HA-lo, P.P.OD?" / Hello, P.P.OD?
"HA-lo, Akua?" / Hello, Jessica?
"Aane, HA-lo?" / Yes, hello?
"Akua, εtε sεn?" / Jessica, how are you?
"Nyame adom! Ei, m'ani agye sε woafrε me... Na wo nso wo ho tε sεn?" / By God's grace (I'm fine)! Hey, I'm glad you've called me... And you also, how are you?

Me and P.P.OD, aka Oduro,
at Oguaa [April 2010]

By God's grace, P.P.OD responds, he's also fine. We chat, him asking my how my family is and both of us lamenting that it's been so long since we've talked; me asking how Nana, the chief of Oguaa, is, and learning that he's doing great and able to walk anywhere without trouble after a year-long battle with an infected leg wound in the hospital; and him asking, as usual, how long it will be until I'm able to return to Ghana. Somehow the time does tick away, and no longer is the answer "aka mfeε nan; mewie sukuu a, mεsa aba" / in four [eternal, unending] years after I graduate.

My students assemble at the end of the day at
Seniagya Methodist JHS [March 2010]

I ask him how everything is going at his new job teaching at the local international school since he and all his fellow teachers-in-training were fired from their post at Seniagya Methodist JHS, where they had worked without ever receiving their pay for the past 8 months. The pay is small, he replies, and he can't stay there forever; instead, he'll pay the entrance examination fees and purchase an application to university in the spring, and pray--really, bring before the throne of grace with desperate pleas and humble, persistent reliance--that God grants him admission. Surely God is a provider, but I ask how much the fees will be, and after a pause, a mental calculation, carry the one and do the sum: "Bεyε 100 Cedis." About 100 Cedis, $70. This for a man whose monthly rent for a cramped room with a single bare lightbulb about a 5 minute walk from the borehole is $3/month, who went into a debt of $15 that took months to repay so that he could give parting gifts to the five Princeton students on the Bridge Year Program who had come to live for some few months in Oguaa. Seventy dollars that could kill a dream before the real obstacle, the 700 Cedis, $500 in tuition that university will cost if he's accepted, even needs to rear its head. I burned through almost $20 on incidentals and food at various airports as I flew home yesterday.

We end our conversation; his phone credit has almost run out, and I know full well that our quarter-hour conversation has probably cost him the equivalent of half of that month's rent:
"Hwε wo ho so yie." / Take care of yourself.
"Wonim sε mεnyε basa-basa." / You know I don't get into trouble.

And I went back to sleep, woke up a couple hours later to another cell phone vibration, a text from my dad wondering if we could do some errands, and soon found myself wandering the aisles of WalMart and Festival Foods. Bounty upon bounty towered before me, and as I trundled around, I thought of my friend Danny. After he graduates in the spring, he'll spend 11 months trekking across the world, serving God and loving people and living the message of the Gospel in 11 different countries. And he'll do it with a backpack full of clothes, a Bible, and not much more than that.

My room in Oguaa, surrounded by my possessions for those
9 months: clothes, books, gifts, toiletries [April 2010]

Remember what Jesus, the Word and our Emmanuel, says to us about how we're to go out when He sends us into the world? Sometimes I forget that, too, what with my prideful, foolishly self-sufficient, and ultimately sinful desire to do everything myself and not disturb God with my requests for food or protection or shelter. So I'm glad that my friend Lizzie called me back to the words of Matthew on her blog: "Do not get any gold or silver of copper to take with you in your belts--no bag for the journey or extra shirts or a staff, for workers are worth their keep." No staff, no copper for my belt? Okay, this I think I can handle, but no extra shirts? No bag for the journey? Really?

Because the truth is this: I have lots of stuff. Too much stuff--way too much stuff. I was packing two nights ago in preparation for returning home, and I had to do some visual inventory:
(1) Closet of tops, dresses, and skirts
(2) Drawer of sweaters
(3) Drawer of t-shirts
(4) Drawer of socks, bras, underwear
(5) Drawer of shorts
(6) Drawer of jeans and dress pants
(7) Drawer of sweatpants and leggings
(8) Crate of shoes
And please, let's not go into the books piled everywhere, and the assortment of jewelry, and the two plastic totes of random things lurking under my bed, and the laptop I'm writing this blog post on. God, the things You've entrusted to me are really beyond my comprehension, and obviously well beyond anything I deserve. Thank you.

My bookshelf--before this year's books were
added [February 2011]

So let's keep this straight, this procession of thoughts in my head today, and add to it a few spices until we have a nice little mental soup simmering. Firstly, the broth: my conversation with P.P.OD. Secondly, a collection of vegetables: Danny's upcoming trip 'round the world with a backpack. Thirdly, the meat: this confounding passage in Matthew 10:9-10. Fourthly, some noodles: the excess of my life as divulged by my dorm room's contents. And then the spices: room cleaning, and Jesus' return, and contentment in all circumstances, and being a pilgrim.

When I came home yesterday I brought a suitcase full of clothes with me, justifying spending $25 (which, disregarding the disparity in cost of living between Ghana and the US, let's remember, equals 5% of the annual tuition for a university like the one P.P.OD is hoping to attend) to check stated suitcase. I reasoned that I need something to wear for the next three weeks and I thought really don't have many clothes at home. (Judging by how much clothing I have at school, I was hoping this would turn out to be the case when I arrived home, and it sort of did.) Upon arriving home, I did a visual inventory of my room here, too, and found, again, many things. I've been thinking about all these ingredients in my soup, and adding the spice of a quote by Randy Alcorn, author of The Treasure Principle, who makes this keen observation: "Pilgrims travel light."

Certainly, as my friend Trent has reminded me, to be ungrateful for the things that have been entrusted to me would be to refuse to be "content in every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want," as Paul wrote to the Philippians; but are we not pilgrims living in tents? I want my life to reflect that. So I'm cleaning house. How many pairs of jeans and t-shirts and sweaters can I need anyway? There's a satisfyingly robust pile of clothes on my floor now, waiting in limbo to find a better home than my closet. And that makes me excited, because the fewer things I have, the less tethered I'll be to my earthly treasures when God calls me to follow Him anywhere, whether that means to my next class or back to Ghana or Uganda--traveling light!

Yet not only my closet, Lord, but my heart also: Clean me out!

Remember that Christmas is coming? Sometimes I forget. But it really is, and soon: that day when Emmanuel actually is given birth, when the Word takes on a garment of flesh and breathes among us as God breathed Him into creation. Please, beloved friends, can we prepare our hearts for the arrival of our Savior? Because He has already come, lived, and defeated death; but He's coming back. Revelation makes that clear: "[Jesus] who testifies to these things says, 'Yes, I am coming soon.' Amen. Come, Lord Jesus." And so, just as we sing "let every heart prepare Him room" at Christmas, let each of us prepare room in our hearts for Jesus to return, not clinging to things but learning to live light, to travel as pilgrims in this world, unencumbered by things that tether us. We must throw off everything that hinders--our pride, our reliance on ourselves, our self-focus, and maybe even our fascination with things and clothes and gadgets and stuff--to run with perseverance this race set before us. Amen!

Come, Lord Jesus.

Prayer Requests:

For Siddhu, who I met on the train to the airport yesterday and who is an agnostic who'd like to believe in God but can't get over the problem of suffering and says he feels a big void in his life; I gave him a Bible and Henri Nouwen's Reaching Out, so please join me in praying that God brings growth in his life and that he comes to know God's fullness!
For my friend David, who's trying to discern whether God has called him to co-lead the mission trip to Uganda in August with me
For the Outreach Team of PFA, the Christian ministry I'm involved in at school; we need God's guidance and power and vision to see many, many people come to know Christ and walk in His joy and peace!
For people who don't have close friends and people who are depressed and lonely
For God to be preparing the hearts of those He has called to the Uganda mission trip in August, and for wisdom for me in preparing for that and deciding how to use the time before the trip

Prayer begins... last Friday

2011-12-06T17:28:00.002-06:00

Do you realize how much God loves dust?

Genesis 2:7 // The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.

Isaiah 41:14 // "Do not be afraid, O worm Jacob, O little Israel, for I myself will help you," declares the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.

Daniel 9:18 // "Give ear, O God, and hear; open your eyes and see the desolation of the city that bears your Name. We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy."

That's me: the dust, the worm, the little one, the unrighteous beggar for mercy--wow, God. I'm just thinking about the wonder of it, that God would meet with such as us, and that He calls us His people (Hosea 2:23). And I just end up stunned every time.

I guess that--to just share my amazement at God's glory--was the primary purpose of this little post, as it should be for every post, but secondarily, I've a request for you: I've been asked to lead the mission trip to Uganda (the one I went on last August with my Christian fellowship here at school), and after about a month of prayer and discernment I accepted on Friday. Which means that prayer for the trip began on Friday, and I'm asking you to join me! At this point I have essentially no details (when? probably about August; who? I don't know, but I may have a co-leader; how? by God's provision), but will share them as they're settled.

Things at school are going well, and I praise God for His work in my heart and in the lives of others around me this semester! Only a week and a half til I'm home for Christmas... Peace!

on being content where i am

2011-08-31T15:49:00.003-05:00

God, I trust Your provision and plan. Lead my steps each day, guiding me waking and guarding me sleeping, and humbling me hour by hour as I see face to face my desperate need for You. Remind me that I am living in a mere tent, yearning for a better country and a home to call my own--and speak to my heart that Your plans are better.

To Gulu

2011-08-11T10:27:00.002-05:00

Hi friends!

Tomorrow our team of 14 will join 200 Uganda university students for a week of service, discipleship, and general mayhem in Gulu, a region in northern Uganda where Watoto, the church we are working with, has established a children's village where orphans live with adoptive mothers and up to seven other children in a home. This is sort of the culmination of the past few weeks' services projects and acquainting with Watoto's mission and involvement in Uganda (and now South Africa as well, with hopes to expand to South Sudan by the end of the year, and potential future projects in Ghana and various other African nations. In fact, if you haven't checked out Watoto's website yet, I'd encourage you to do so; this is truly an incredible ministry that is bringing the love of Christ to Uganda in tangible and invisible ways).

On Sunday after church (when our team served as the choir for 2 services of 800 and 1300 congregants after only having learned the songs--some in English and some in Luganda--during a 20 minute rehearsal the night before... Yet we did it for an audience of One!) we visited Ssubi, one of Watoto's children's villages. After eating a meal in one of Mama Irene and her children, I took a walk with the two youngest girls, Miriam and Violet, who showed me the swingset and wrangled my hair into three impressive braids. As we walked over to watch a game of basketball between the bazungu (foreigners) and some of Ssubi's best basketball talent, I asked a simple question, the response to which I want to share with you: "What does it mean to be a Christian?" There are two parts, they told me: to obey God and share Jesus with people.

So I've been striving to frame my time in Uganda this way, because in these two simple commands I see a parallel with what Jesus affirms as the two greatest commandments in Matthew 22: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.... And love your neighbor as yourself." What better love can we show God than to obey Him as He requires in 1 Samuel 15:22-23 ("Does the LORD delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the LORD? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams. For rebellion is like the sin of divination, and arrogance like the evil of idolatry.")? And how do we better love our neighbors than by sharing with them Jesus, both as we tell of the salvation and hope we have in Him and become His hands and feet in service to our neighbors? Lord, only let us fulfill these two commands as daily we are conformed to the likeness of Christ.

I'll leave you with that for now, as well as many thanks for your faithful and loving support of me and the team! Be greatly blessed.

Love,
Jessikua*

*I've found that I've picked up (or maybe resurrected) quite a strong "African" accent, which has lead to the team calling me "Jessikua," I mixture of the name my parents gave me and the name my host family in Ghana gave me, Akua, which means "girl who was born on Wednesday." But don't worry... It doesn't show itself when I'm speaking with bazungu.

Along for the Ride

2011-08-04T02:35:00.003-05:00

I've spent a lot of time sitting in a bus recently. Traveling between Emmaus Guest House or Adonai Guest House and Watoto Church, the Naguru Remand Home, New Hope Teenage Pregnancy Center, the Bullrushes babies' orphanage, Ssuubi children's village, the School for the Physically Handicapped, and Makerere University has meant many cumulative hours traversing the roads of Kampala--and, I will note, they are for the most part wonderfully smooth roads; I've been surprised to find Uganda (or at the least the corner of it I've explored so far in Kampala) fairly well developed. But aside from that:

I'm not just riding along on a bus... I feel like I'm riding along on with God, and He's showing me everything He's doing without letting me get my hands too dirty or my feet too wet, because He wants to humble me and remind me daily that ultimately, I came to Uganda to do His work and not my own projects. In some ways, as I've been trundled off in the bus to so many different ministries, usually as a "visitor" and not a "volunteer," I wonder why I am in Uganda, who I am actually serving. But God is persistent in reminding me that I am not Him, but rather the one I am serving is Him. He is showing me day by day testimonies of His surpassing love, and of the way He is redeeming creation--and repeating to me that He does not need my hands, but He wants them to be fully surrendered to Him.

Internet access has turned out not to be too difficult to procure, but time has been, so for now: Thank you for your prayers, love, and support, and I send you mine in return! May God guard you sleeping and guide you waking.

Haiti Blog

2011-06-10T05:24:00.002-05:00

We've leaving this morning! While we're gone, I won't be updating this blog because our internet access will be very limited, but we will be periodically updating a blog on the church website at firstpreslax.org.

"Mission of Romance"

2011-06-09T19:24:00.008-05:00

The La Crosse Tribune published an article about our trip to Haiti a few days ago, the title of which was "Mission of Romance." The article itself is a fair depiction of our trip, and I recommend you read it (some people I love a lot are quoted!), but it misses the mark in a key area: Romance is not our mission. Ours is a mission of redeeming, of affirming the covenant of marriage and celebrating love that is commitment, not ceremony, of reawakening--or at least celebrating, for who is to say that it has not already been awakened, or even that it has been extinguished?--the joy and wonder of the gift of marriage.

Granted, so far my firsthand experience with marriage is limited to that of an observer. But during the last six weeks of my freshman year, my Bible study examined love, sex, and marriage in the context of the Bible and tried to build a framework of understanding how Christians are called to live out our sexuality, and as I consider the mission that is set before our team I've fallen again and again back on this framework. I had the privilege of working with my dad, who I'm co-leading the trip with (along with a third leader, Laura), on a set of daily devotions for our group while we're in Haiti, and although I'm excited to see how God uses each of them--and not only the devotions, but the whole experience, really--to open the students' eyes more and more to His goodness, the one I'm most excited for explores marriage: What does our culture say it is, and what does the Bible say it is? I'll share with you some of the ways that we're going to look at marriage in our devotions--and since the students won't have access to the internet for the next 10 days, they won't have all the answers ahead of time! Let's look at some of the reasons marriage is important...

1) We were created to be in relationship

Then God said, ‘Let us make human beings in our own image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.’ So God created human beings in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:26-27)

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made…. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:1-3, 14)

Basically, even though as God's children we are fundamentally complete in Him (so I'm not saying that celibacy or singleness means people are less than fully human), the foundation of the world--before it even physically existed--was relationship: between God, the Word (Jesus), and the Holy Spirit. We're created in God's image, so we, too, are built for relationships, both with God and with others--particularly the relationship of marriage.

2) Marriage helps us understand God’s love for us and relationship with us

God and Israel (Old Testament)

She [Israel] will chase after her lovers but not catch them; she will look for them but not find them. Then she will say, “I will go back to my husband as at first, for then I was better off than now.”…
“In that day,” declares the Lord, “you will call me ‘my husband’; you will no longer call me ‘my master.’… I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion.” (Hosea 2:7, 16, 19)

For your Maker is your [Israel’s] husband—the Lord Almighty is his name—the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all the earth. (Isaiah 54:5)

Jesus and the Church (New Testament)

Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready. Fine linen, bright and clean, was given her to wear. (Fine linen stands for the righteous acts of God’s people.) (Revelation 19:7-8)

I love this; the imagery that the Bible gives us of God's love for us is so incredibly intense. In the Old Testament, the relationship between God and Israel is often described as that of a passionately loving husband and his adulterous, unfaithful wife, respectively. Even though I've only excerpted Hosea here, I recommend reading the whole book (it's not too long) to get the complete story, but it is one of my favorite books for understanding the marvelous depth and furiousness of God's love for us. Note: it's written by a prophet whom God called to actually embody the metaphor of God and Israel as husband and unfaithful wife by marrying a prostitute. Then in the New Testament, a common theme is that the church is Jesus' bride, being purified for their eventual marriage. The imagery in Revelation is stunning, but it appears in other places in the New Testament also, including in the Ephesians passage that follows this one and 2 Corinthians 11:2.

3) Marriage sanctifies, or makes us holy as we serve someone else

Submit to one another out of reverend for Christ. Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.
Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, people have never hated their own bodies, but they feed and care for them, just as Christ does the church—for we are members of his body.
“For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and will be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.” This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband. (Ephesians 5:21-33)

I wondered about including this passage in our study because it can be a touchy one for Christians when that "s" word in verse 22 comes up. But consider the context: this is an incredible love! What a vision for marriage. In contrast to a culture that seems to promote marriage for the sake of increasing one's own pleasure ("How happy does he/she make me?"), this is an image of humility and service ("How can I serve him/her?"). Certainly happiness is a vital consideration for entering into a marriage, but what makes it endure is a commitment to humble service, which also sanctifies. What a privilege to walk alongside couples in Haiti who are reaffirming their dedication to each other!

We leave tomorrow morning, bright and early, and after a day of driving, flying, and stopping for the night in Ft. Lauderdale, we'll be in Haiti on Saturday morning to begin our preparations for the wedding of 21+ couples on Tuesday. Please keep Clair, Annie, Kendall, Rachel, Fred, Soren, Richard, Evan, Chet, Hudson, Taylor, Laura, and me in your prayers, but alongside us, please lift up the couples we will be meeting who are, in a sense, renewing the vows to each other that they made not in a church before friends and neighbors, but before God "who sees what is done in secret" (Matthew 6:4, 18)--or at least outside the walls of a church.

Prayers for Haiti

2011-04-17T13:51:00.006-05:00

I just had my first meeting (over the phone) with the high school missions team I have the blessing to co-lead on their trip to Haiti this summer, and I am so encouraged. Our team of 13 will be partnering with a family of missionaries, the Wrays, for an unusual project: conducting weddings! Many couples in rural Haiti are confronted with the cost of having a public wedding and are simply unable to pay it, so although they have committed to be husband and wife and are living faithfully, their marriage is not recognized by the community or by the church. Thus they live as second class citizens who are condemned as sexually immoral. By performing weddings for them, we have the chance to restore to them the dignity and celebrate the value of their marriage in a way that few have recognized it before.

Please pray for us in the coming two months before we leave. Here is a list of some the prayer requests we generated together during out meeting, but please also pray as you are led:

*safety
*effectiveness
*clarity of purpose and ability to accomplish that purpose
*gratitude for the opportunity to serve in this way
*the individuals who are enabling us to go to Haiti by their financial support
*the people who will be left behind in the US (parents, siblings, friends, our church)
*people in Haiti who we have yet to meet
*our anxieties, impatience, weakness, etc.
*hearts that align with God's, that love as He loves and break as His breaks

Please also pray for each member of our team: Soren, Evan, Fred, Richard, Chet, Hudson, Kendall, Annie, Clair, Rachel, and Ethan, as well as my dad and me, who are co-leading the trip.

One of my favorite Biblical prayers come from Nehemiah, and I often have to humble myself and remember that God is awesome, able to help in trying times. As Nehemiah was rebuilding the wall around Jerusalem he confronted immense opposition, and this was his simple prayer, one that I want to pray in its wise simplicity and totally trusting dependence for myself and for my team:

'They were all trying to frighten us, thinking, "Their hands will get too weak for the work, and it will not be completed." But I prayed, "Now strengthen my hands."'

Revitalizing the Blog for Summer 2011

2011-04-09T22:49:00.004-05:00

Hi friends,

It's been a long time! I'm in the process of updating this for my summer 2011 adventures: Haiti in June and Uganda in August, so things will be changing around in the next few months.

Also, I have two requests for you:
(1) First and foremost, please pray! I would love your prayers as I prepare to serve and while I am abroad--not only for me, but for the teams I will be traveling and working with, and for the people I will meet in Haiti and Uganda.
(2) If you would like to contribute financially to my Uganda trip (I have to raise several thousand dollars, and I know God will provide), please visit www.Christian-Union.org/Uganda2011 (select "J Haley" from the list of student designees) to donate and get in touch if you have any questions.

Something I'm learning about God's faithfulness and provision, which comes from Deuteronomy 8:3-4, is that even in the smallest of things God is sovereign. "He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your fathers had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. Your clothes did not wear out and your feet did not swell during these forty years." Wow: what provision, and what faithfulness! I trust Him for all things.

Love,
Jessica

Home

2010-06-02T22:16:00.003-05:00

After long hours of traveling (in total, about 48 from the time I left for the airport in Accra to the time I landed in La Crosse!) I have finally made it home! Thoughts will be forthcoming as I readjust to my familiar life, but for now I am simply thankful to be back among some of the people I missed dearly during the last nine months. Your prayers, support, and encouragement have been invaluable the entire time I was gone, and I thank each of you!

For those of you who live in or near La Crosse, I am having an evening of sharing and celebrating on Friday, June 4 from 6:30 pm to 8:00 pm at First Presbyterian Church in La Crosse. All are invited to come to hear me share a bit about my experiences, see some pictures, and enjoy refreshments afterward. I would love to see you!

Shea!

2010-05-15T10:01:00.002-05:00

I have been living in a village called Dalun, nearby Tamale in the Northern Region of Ghana, for the past week, working in a shea butter cooperative. This means that most days of the week I and my four counterparts, who are all staying at a center known as the Ghanaian Dutch Community Programme in Dalun, work with local women as they process shea nuts into shea butter, some of which is exported across the world. So far we have been directly involved in almost every aspect of shea butter processing, from harvesting the nuts to boiling them to removing their soft outer coating to washing them to grinding them to roasting them over a fire to milling them into a paste to mixing that paste with water until it releases a fatty substance similar to shea butter to boiling the resultant shea compound until it is refined. The entire process takes about a week.

On the 22nd we will leave Dalun and make an excursion to Mole National Park, where we will hope to see some of the animals that have always bounded into my imagination when I think of African wildlife, before beginning our journey back through Tamale and Kumasi and finally Accra, where we will spend just under a week before (hopefully, depending on the consequences of the British Airways strike) departing on the evening of May 30 for America. Scarcely can I imagine that in hardly more than 2 weeks I will be back in my original home (original because in some, though not all, ways Ghana has become a home for me)!

For those of you in the La Crosse area, note that I plan to have a small presentation of pictures on the evening of Friday, June 4, but I will get more details out soon.

Keep me in your prayers as I keep you in mine, friends; by God's grace we shall meet again soon.

City Living

2010-04-21T11:21:00.004-05:00

Before I get into how life has been for me during the many weeks that have elapsed since my last few feeble posts, let me make you a promise that I will try to get a more substantial post up in the next week or so and apologize (though without any guilt whatsoever--it couldn't have been helped!) that I have not been posting regularly.

The latest update from our Ghana cohort, a sketch of our life in the village of Oguaa written by Kathleen Ryan, one of the five of us in Ghana, is available here, if you care to peruse and get a better picture of our daily life in there. Now that I am sharing it with you, though, it is a bit outdated; on April 17, we moved from Oguaa to Kumasi, Ghana's 2nd largest city, where we have begun working at orphanages and creches (nursery schools). It is good to be back among some of the more familiar things in life--I missed my commute to work by tro-tro, and internet access is more convenient now--but I miss Oguaa and its people. I miss Nana, the grandfatherly chief whose constant refrain is "Come and chop!" (Come and eat!) and "Afriyie, wodaa yie?" (Jessica, did you sleep well?). I miss Sewaa, the chief's sister and constant presence in my daily life who makes me wish only to be that energetic, caring, and lively in my old age; her tears of goodbye triggered mine when she wept, "Yerenfere mo; nrefere yen." (We will never forget you; do not forget us.) I miss Akwasi, my 14-year-old (or 9-year-old, depending on who you ask) friend whom I would help every night with his homework and who would sometimes bring me mangoes or call me to check in when we went on trips, and who still calls me almost every day. I miss Malia, my 4-year-old host sister, who would come grab my hand and say my Twi name, "Akua!" when I emerged early each morning from my room. These are people I will never forget.

And yet, as I said, life has moved on, and now I am getting to know Nana Amma, my 32-year-old host sister, her 18-month-old son Kofi, and her mother Ma Afia and my new route to work at Swift Montessori (catch a car to Kotei, then from there take one to Tech Jct, where cars are waiting for passengers like me who are going to Anwomaso). But more on this later! For now best wishes as we close out April, and greetings to all!

Still Doing Well

2010-03-22T11:14:00.003-05:00

Just checking in... Internet time has been ever scantier, but let me assure you that God continues to bless me and pass on a few links:

*A Princeton article: http://www.princeton.edu/main/news/archive/S26/76/33K78/index.xml?section=featured
*Nick's "Update from the Field" for February: http://www.princeton.edu/bridgeyear/updates/archives/?id=2649

Life is good! I am looking forward to sharing more when I return to the United States, but I am enjoying every day for the next two and a half months in the meantime to the fullest!

Love,
Jessica

We don't need blankets in Ghana, but we need to wrap ourselves in prayer

2010-02-27T05:52:00.005-06:00

Thanks to all of you who have interceded for me and the other four students in prayer over the last 6 months. I only have a couple of minutes at this internet cafe, so I can't say much, but suffice it to say that although living here continues to be a blessing and I thank God every day for having brought me to Ghana, I am experiencing a lot of spiritual growth here too, and it is not always easy. Part of that growth is a deeper understanding of God's hand in the world as He manifests Himself through the Holy Spirit, who I am getting to know better after having attended a Pentecostal church each Sunday in Accra and now talking to people in the village who have a much different concept of the Spirit's presence in life. In contrast, I have met priests and priestesses (there are about four or five being trained in our village) and seen them go into trances, wildly dancing at festivals.

So I believe that spiritual warfare exists on a much more real plane that I ever understood back in America. Because of this, I now realize how absolutely vital your prayers over me are. In Ghana, I am outside my usual circle of faith--my community and family of believers. Here, I regularly go to church and actually read the Bible and pray more frequently than I used to, but I still plead with you to lift me and the rest of the group before God frequently. Please pray for spiritual fortitude for us, for protection against evil, and for the joy and strength of the Lord in all that we do.

I wish I could give you a longer exposition, but know that it is well with my soul, for I am resting in the Lord. I pray for you, and I simply ask that, although the distance separating us is great, so is the power of the Father, His Son, and His Spirit, and so let us pray for each other as brothers and sisters.

Love in Christ,
Jessica

P.S. A few pictures...

A View of Transition and Life Beyond

2010-02-20T04:29:00.004-06:00

As of today, I have been living in Oguaa, a small village of perhaps three to four hundred people, for 40 days—and though they have not been without challenges, these 40 days have been remarkably joyful. So many things here are so different from my past experiences (both in the US and in Accra), but I think the most noteworthy is the fact that I have stopped noticing many of them. Things that once may have surprised or shocked me are normal, and one-time nuisances have come to be just what I need to brighten my days. Life in Oguaa is good.

I won't give you an extensive recounting of our journey from Accra to Oguaa via Kumasi, Ghana's second largest city and the nearest place (at about 2 hours away) where I can find reliable internet access. Each month one of the five of us Bridge Year students writes an update from the field and submits it to Princeton for publication on their website, and so when my opportunity to write the update came in January, I chose to write about our transition. You can find my report here (and roam the site to find the archived updates written by Nick, Kathleen, Cole, and Aria) if you want to fill in some of the gap between my last blog post and the previous ones.

But for the most part, as I alluded to, the transition is over, replaced by living. No longer do the not-uncommon power outages seem terribly inconvenient; as long as my phone has enough battery to last until the power comes back on in a few hours, I have come to enjoy the respite from the constant background din of peoples' radios that a “lights off” brings. The surprisingly terrifying grunts and bays of the fattened ram who is tied up nearby are now more apt to make me shake my head as I bid him goodnight than to make the hair on the back of my neck bolt upright. Many times a day when a child stares after me as I pass, singing out, “Oboruni kכkכ, maakye!” (“White person/foreigner, good morning!”) at any time of the day, I answer quickly with a little dance and a sing-song call—“Yaa, fikyiri gon-gon!” (the expected gibberish response)—rather than bewilderment at why kids are wishing me good morning at 4:00 in the afternoon. All of this is just part of how I live.

In short, the details of how I live are thus: I stay in a house which is basically one row or bank of rooms (a toilet room, bathing room, kitchen, and chicken coop) opposite a small, empty, cement “courtyard” from another bank of rooms, which shaped like a block-lettered “C”. Basically, my house is a square, but one side of the square is not connected to the others, and in the middle of the square is an open area which is flat and cemented. Each of the rooms has door that opens onto this “courtyard.” My house is not occupied by a single family; rather, there is the elder of the house, who is called “כpanin” (“Elder”), an old woman and her two young granddaughters (Sekina and Malia), who have become the equivalent of my host family under these odd living circumstances, and two teachers (Owusu and Akwasi Edward) in their early twenties.

Because I don't quite live with a host family (I am more like the other two teachers, who are renting the rooms, than an exchange student living with and learning from a family as a temporary member), I spend a lot of my time with Aria, Nick, Kathleen, and Cole at our Bridge Year headquarters, located in the village chief's house. Like me, Cole and Kathleen stay in houses in the village, while Aria and Nick have rooms in the chief's house, which is a compound similar to mine. However, when we are not sleeping or spending time in our rooms or with the other residents of our houses, we tend to gather at Nana's place, as we know headquarters. Whether cooking our communal meals, doing the dishes, or just hanging out, simply spending time together has helped me to develop friendships that I really value with each of the other four students. To be honest, it has been a struggle at times to adjust to the new living circumstances after my wonderful host family in Accra, and I sometimes feel that I should spend more time at my house than Nana's place, but I am learning to divide my time well and look forward to continuing spending time with the best friends I have in Ghana.

In terms of work, I am teaching at a middle school called Seniagya Methodist Junior High School, located in a village about a ten minute walk from Oguaa. In the school—a fairly new building comprised of three classrooms and an office—there are three “forms” equivalent to 6th, 7th, and 8th grades with about 25 students in each form. Initially I expected that I would be assisting teachers and tutoring and generally trying to be helpful, but I am in fact the form 1 (6th grade) math teacher. This means that if you need any help calculating a fraction's lowest terms or talking about the relationship between a plane shape like a circle and the net of a solid such as a cylinder, I am the person to come to, particularly if you would like a faltering explanation in Twi! I teach my 25 students, who range in age from 12 to 19, four times a week for about 70 minutes if the school is running on schedule (or about 60 minutes if it is a typical day) using a mix of a little English and as much Twi as I can muster. No class ever goes quite as expected according to the lesson plans I write, but I am proud to say that my students know the difference between a ray and a line, and I am pretty confident that I know all their names. Never could I have guessed how simply rewarding and mind-blowingly frustrating teaching can be and is—but my name is now Madam.

To distill these details, this life is unlike anything I have experienced before, including life in Accra—but as I stared in wonder at the magnificent, sizzling purple thunder tearing through the resolute black sky two nights ago, I realized I don't want to live any other life right now.

Oguaa in the morning

2010-01-30T05:54:00.007-06:00

I wake up in the morning only after much snooze button-fumbling within the confines of my mosquito net: Why is it only 5:30? Though it takes a burst of pure willpower, eventually I work up the energy to switch off my alarm, sit up, unzip my net, and slip through the opening, usually without falling onto the floor. As my bare feet scuffle across the smooth cement floor, I slip on my trusty Old Navy flip flops to avoid any of the friendly but intimidating spiders that may have ventured off the wall and onto the floor before grabbing my two yards of green and brown printed cloth, which I use to wrap around me in some kind of toga-esque style.

I unlock the door, take a few sheets of toilet paper for good measure, and shuffle across the courtyard of my compound to the bathroom. The small cement room contains a broom made from palm fronds, an empty plastic oil container, and a plastic seat embedded in the top of a hollow cement column--a welcoming sight. Exiting the bathroom, I shuffle back into my room by the light of a luminous moon and the bare flourescent lightbulb protruding from the exterior wall. I collect my towel, shampoo, bathing sponge (called "sapo," which is a rectangular piece of netting about 6 inches by 24 inches used to scrub oneself while bathing--the Ghanaian loofah), and tiny blue plastic pail before again venturing across the courtyard. A quick glance around helps me identify the two bathing buckets: one to dip into the huge barrel of water, and another to hold the water fetched with the first bucket. One, two, three times I submerge the smaller of the two buckets in the barrel, and one, two, three times the water splashes from one bucket into the other.

As I enter the stark bathing room, I hang my towel and cloth over the frail wooden door, and steel myself: the water scooped by the little pail will be cold, and the morning is not particularly warm either. Begin with the feet, because they require the most attention and scrubbing to remove the earthy-fine dust, and then proceed to pour a little water onto my chest to reduce the shock of drenching my hair in the morning chill. Scrub a little, pour on some water, and scrub some more. The bucket bath is neither complicated nor pretentious, but no matter the cold that creeps into my fingertips: this is the perfect beginning.

I greet my eight-year-old host sister, Sekina, as I notice her sitting on the cement step in a long, dusty, elegant skirt: "Sekina, maakye." "Yaa, ena," she replies, and we exchange a smile before I disappear into my room. Inside, the clothes from which I pick a simple outfit for the day are stuffed into an extra duffel bag I had brought along, for there is no need for the luxury of a dresser in my bare room; the bed stands independent and alone against shockingly vibrant blue walls.

So I am clothed, and I wriggle my feet into my trusty sandals before doing my mental survey of the morning. Remembering, I retreive my industrial-sized Walgreen's pharmacy bottle and select a particularly delicious-looking malarone (malaria prophylaxis) pill and swallow it with the aid of lukewarm water from a sachet. Now the morning is complete. I gather the essentials for a day of teaching 6th grade math--a black pen for writing lesson plans, a red pen for correcting exercises, a copy of the slim Pupil's Textbook for Mathematics, the Mathematics Syllabus for Junior High School, my flimsy lesson plan book, and a Ghc1 note in case some of the kids need to buy lunch--and a few necessities for life--sunscreen, some tissue, my cell phone. I open the door, exit, and turn the key firmly in the lock.

"Nana, mepaakyew, mereko sukuu. Onyame adom, yebehyia awia!"
Grandma, please, I am going to school. By God's grace, we shall meet this afternoon!

Goodbye to a second home

2010-01-05T07:40:00.002-06:00

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow, it's only a day away!

I can scarcely believe that in 24 hours I will just be arriving in Kumasi to begin the second phase of my Ghanaian life. Please pray for safety and health for our group, a good adjustment, and a sense of purpose and community as we continue our volunteer work and cultural exploration. I thank God for your prayers and support throughout my time in Ghana!

After I arrive in the village where I will be living, it's unlikely that I will have frequent internet access (it will be much less convenient to get to an internet cafe) and so my blog postings will be less prolific. However, I promise not to forget to pop in to give you an update every once in a while! :)

Love to you all,
Jessica

Buronya (n):

2010-01-04T05:42:00.018-06:00

(1) A holiday commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ and celebrated on 25 December. (2) Twi for "Christmas." (3) Literally translated, "foreigner" (oboruni) "receives" (nya), as in the foreigner is celebrating receiving something.

Buronya... These definitions are all accurate, but not in the least the whole picture of my Christmas with my host family in Adenta. So let me provide you with some other pictures to help you understand a bit better:

This is how I began my Christmas: with a miniature stocking to garnish my mosquito net! My wonderful parents sent me a Christmas package from America containing this stocking, presents for me and my host family, and a couple of more essentials: candy canes and Werther's toffees. They sent it on 20 November and it reached me just in time for Christmas on 21 December.

Usually my host family opens gifts together, they told me, but this year everyone was very busy and so I gave the presents out piecemeal since we didn't have anything like the Christmas Eve present extravaganza that usually takes place at my house in America. Often families in Ghana have a large meal on Christmas, with fresh chicken and cake and other delicacies, but my family feasted on the traditional dish of banku, which Cole describes well in the second half of this blog post. When my younger host brother Kwaku learned that Christmas had passed without this feast, his face fell and he announced, "Then I did not spend my Christmas well!" Cute though his response was, I found that the way we did spend Christmas, at a series of church services, was a nice respite from the consumerism and materialism that so often cloud the miracle of Jesus' incarnation on Christmas.

This is a snapshot of church one morning, with the ladies bedecked in their finest to come and worship with fervent prayer and joyful, energetic dancing. I attend the Church of Pentecost with my host family, and for Christmas the church held what is called a "convention" -- basically a series of twice daily services of prayer, preaching and dancing. Suffice it to say that I have never before spent Christmas morning shouting praise, singing worship songs, praying aloud, dancing with abandon, and playing the tambourine with such verve that even my kneecaps were sweating! We began the convention on Christmas Eve with an outdoor service for about 3 hours in the evening, then continued on Christmas Day and Boxing Day with 3 hours inside the church in the morning and 4 hours outside at a dirt park in the evening both days. On the final day, 27 December, we worshiped for 5 hours in the morning and into the early afternoon.

That evening, I attended my older host sister's church choir program, which entailed a time of prayer and praise and worship (complete with dancing!) in addition to a performance by four area Pentecostal choirs. Below I am dancing with a woman who grabbed my arm and joined me as I shuffled and swayed along to a Twi worship song I could only partially understand.

It is customary on the first Sunday after New Year's Eve (when once again there was a church service, this one about 4 hours, called Watchnight) to wear a new outfit if you have one, or at the very least to dress up specially. In appreciation of my attendance at the Christmas Convention, the Twi song I had sung in front of the congregation a few months earlier, the fact that I am an "osofo ba" (pastor's child), and a genuine kindness and generosity, the head pastor gave me a gift of kente cloth, the traditional cloth of the Ashantis (and Ewes), which is woven and usually worn by royals such as chiefs, the Asantehene (Ashanti king), and their kin, as well as the wealthy. It is very highly valuable; for example, my pattern and quantity of kente would likely cost a couple hundred Cedis, equal to well over $130. My host mom brought me to a tailor who sewed it into a traditional outfit, a kaba (blouse) and slit (fitted skirt), for me. Here I am with my two younger host brothers and an even younger house guest on our way to church.

My host mom also ensured that I looked like a proper lady, so she lent me a purse, a gorgeous necklace, and this elegant hat to complete my look. So elegant did I feel that I couldn't help but strike a pose!

That morning before church I attended Adenta Keep Fit Club, an organization that holds meetings at 6:00 am every Saturday, Sunday, and public holiday for the sole purpose of beginning the day with some intense aerobics and other exercises. I had been going every possible Saturday since late September, and so on Sunday, my final day, I learned that my season of humbly receiving gifts from the generous community I have found in Ghana was not over. My friends at Adenta Keep Fit Club sent me off in style with kind words and a gift a new dress (which I am wearing below while posing with my host sister Harriet) and a kente stoll!

After taking a group picture, we bade farewell with wishes of "Afenhyia pa" ("The year should meet well") and responses of "Afenkכ mmεto yεn" ("The year should go around and come meet us again") -- and "Yεbεhyia bio, Onyame adom" ("By God's grace we will meet again").

So I am left humbled at the end of a Christmas season spent in Ghana. I didn't make a snowman or sit cuddled up with hot chocolate and a blanket in front of the fireplace; I didn't even wear long sleeves! There were no Advent celebrations, and few stores strung out even green and red tinsel, much less tiny strands of lights. I never did have that Christmas meal of fresh chicken and all the cake I could want, and my host family didn't hunker down in their pajamas for a good ol' family gift exchange.

And yet, through this Christmas season, I have been blessed in new and unexpected ways. I have experienced firsthand an outpouring of kindness and generosity, both in tangible ways (kente, a dress, the stoll...) and intangible ways. I have enjoyed time off from work to spend more time with my host family before we are separated in a few days when I move to Kumasi. And I have felt the Spirit of God in a unique and affirming way as I have considered what it could mean that the Son of Man and the Son of God are truly One. Friends, it means more things than I can explain and even fathom, but what I know absolutely is this: Christmas is an expression of Love to us. I thank God that I feel loved in Ghana and loved in America -- and above all, as Buronya is drawing to a close, I marvel at the simple fact that Love loves me and Love loves you.

Some Slight Schedule Schanges

2009-12-15T08:44:00.003-06:00

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!

2009-12-11T02:56:00.008-06:00

"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!

2009-12-02T07:26:00.011-06:00

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

2009-11-17T06:45:00.008-06:00

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...

2009-11-12T08:40:00.003-06:00

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

2009-11-05T10:17:00.006-06:00

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

2009-10-30T10:48:00.004-05:00

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)

2009-10-23T07:33:00.001-05:00

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

2009-10-23T04:11:00.029-05:00

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

2009-10-16T10:55:00.005-05:00

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!

2009-10-06T04:53:00.002-05:00

... 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...

2009-10-05T13:08:00.003-05:00

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?

2009-09-25T12:22:00.002-05:00

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

2009-09-20T11:13:00.004-05:00

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!

2009-09-12T14:04:00.002-05:00

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?

2009-09-04T12:54:00.005-05:00

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)

2009-08-24T22:22:00.005-05:00

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

2009-08-18T21:39:00.010-05:00

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

2009-08-01T20:31:00.007-05:00

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

2009-07-30T23:08:00.004-05:00

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

2009-07-07T11:14:00.016-05:00

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...