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!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Goodbye to a second home
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
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
Monday, January 4, 2010
Buronya (n):
(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.
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.
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