Book Two: Back in Canada

With the ending of one chapter in your life another begins...

A lot has taken place since I last wrote. I arrived yesterday morning at the Halifax airport into the arms of someone I can now say I love. My flight left the airport in Accra Thursday morning at 9:40. My emotions were high, I felt anxious, sad, happy, sick, and tired. I went to bed knowing that I was going to have a stressful morning but waiting at a foreign airport with no passport in hand and your flight is due to leave in thirty minutes how could you prepare yourself.

The last two weeks were two of the toughest weeks of my life as you read in my last post. I had a very difficult time dealing with all that was happening. The fact that my health was not well did not make the situation easier. My temperature was high, I was experiencing the worst migraines I'd ever had, ears were aching, stomach was a mess and I was vomiting... but not out my mouth(sorry but you learn quickly that poop talk is part of life sometimes). This caused me to worry extremely.
I guess this is a good time, for those of you who don't know before I left for Ghana I was told by the doctors that it was a terrible idea and I shouldn't do it. I had been sick on and off for four months but it wasn't until two months before they realized what was wrong. I was experiencing trouble with my kidney. One day in February I went home from volleyball to pee pure blood. I had no idea what to think and was terrified so honestly I continued to hop in the shower until I got a clear mind to tell myself to go to the hospital. When I went to the hospital they asked the typical questions and took a urine test. They told me it was just a bladder infection and sent me home. Well it wasn't until a week later when I was feeling terrible that I went to the student health clinic to find out the emergency room had sent the school a letter saying, "Contact this girl immediately!"(which might I say, they didn't). The doctors ran some test and still had no idea what was going on. She sat me down and listed off every terrible health condition you don't ever want to hear your doctor say you might have and said we're going to have to run further tests to see what it is and sent me off to volleyball practice. Well let's just say the next two months were very stressful. I had blood and urine tests done weekly as well as some x-rays and a ultra sound.
All this is happening and you realize, oh yeah, life you're still happening.
I was accepted into Intercordia in January before all this bad news started coming. The Intercordia class was my escape. I came, got to be with people who had the same passion for life and others life that I held and it was amazing. Each class I went to was like a free appointment with world's best mental coach. When I'd leave the class my favourite little lady and I would talk about how relaxing the class was(We promise this is not solely because of the comforting sound of our professor's voice. Him reading a loud the dictionary could send anyone into a state of mental relaxation). It really became my escape. This escape feeling only got better the day I found out my placement, I was going to a place where I had always seen myself in my dreams, it was happening.
It was three weeks before I was leaving that I had to allow my escape and reality collide, I had to inform my doctor that in three weeks I was leaving for Ghana. When I told her her face dropped, it honestly makes me laugh when I think about it. "So since I can't take Advil, Pepto, I have to eliminate red meat and cut back something serious on all other proteins and all these other things but do you think me Malaria pills are okay?" The look on her face, oh man, I shouldn't laugh but. Immediately she knew I was taken off somewhere. She started quizzing me on where I was going and definitely did not like it when I replied, "Ghana". She looked right at me and asked if this could wait until next year and I said preferably not. I didn't say this out of spite to get a thrill but I said this because she had just informed me that I would need to see a kidney specialist and it was going to take 3-4 months to get an appointment anyways.
And it wasn't until a week before my leaving day that I one hundred percent decided that I was going. I decided that I wasn't going to sit around and be sick at home for 3 or 4 months till I could find out that there is either something serious wrong with me or it's very minor and will heal on it's own with my changes I'm making and attention on it. I did not want to be the "sick" person, I didn't want to tell anyone I was "sick", they don't even know if I'm sick so why put myself through 3 or 4 months of "why aren't you working your two jobs rather than just one, why aren't playing beach this year, why aren't you coming out tonight" all the questions I would be asked(with the exception of "why aren't you eating meat anymore?" which definitely came up on more than one occasion in Ghana). Until I know something is seriously wrong I am not going to be the sick person.
With this your now up to speed on today, why I am back in Canada. The doctor told me if anything were to happen and I was to even get the smallest thing as a sore throat that I needed to see the doctor to ensure it was nothing that could grow into something serious thus having some affect on my kidney and what not. So when I feel sick last week, I knew, I knew I was coming home. I had be very lucky, I had made it two full months without even a cough, sneeze, nothing and now it was hitting me all at once like a brick wall. I was sick and had to go to the hospital. At the hospital I had blood tests done, which they checked me for malaria and said it did not show up in my blood but I had all the symptoms of it and they would be treating me for it anyways. Immediately I knew. I called Mom in tears when I got home, I knew I would have to come home. I thought well I should stay, it's only a month if there's something wrong it can't get that bad in a month could it? It took me a week to decide continue being sick for the next month and actually be the sick person I was avoiding being in Canada or go home and get shit straightened out. It wasn't until I spoke with my Nanners that I knew what I had to do. See me and Nanners have this thing, people think were crazy but when you know somethings there, an intuition, between two people you know. I hadn't spoken to her much since I had come away but my phone rang while I was laying in bed crying, talking to God, trying to figure out what to do, it was Nanners. We spoke just a quick and short conversation but in the end I was relaxed and felt okay about changing my ticket.
And that is why I arrived back in Canada. I have an appointment with that doctor to make sure things are okay, which they will be(got to be positive). I am happy to be home. I will never regret my choice in leaving and feel like this experience has made me grow so much as a person. This is just the ending of a chapter in my life and the beginning of another, Book Two I'm calling it, Back in Canada.
I am really thankful to everyone who has followed my blog this far and am happy to say that I had so many more stories that I hope you will still come here and read. Just because I'm back in Canada does not mean the experience is over. An experience as such is everlasting in one's life and this I will be a signatory for.

Getting over the hump...

There’s so much to tell you. Where to start? I hope you don’t mind if I skip ahead a few weeks to this week and go back…

This week has been by far my most difficult week here. I have cried almost everyday, if not twice. When I woke up on Tuesday morning, at my usual 530am, to do my workout before getting ready for school, I felt not right. I didn’t know what is was but I decided I’d take the morning off and just read until breakfast. After breakfast I headed off to school for the day and after school attended our one hour Dangme class(I’ll write on this later I promise). After class I had asked my best friend/co-teacher if we could go visit our student, David, who had not been in class for two weeks due to sickness, of course she said yes. When we arrive to David’s house his sister said when she returned home from school David was not at the house nor were their parents so they realized David was taken to the hospital again. With this information we could do nothing but return home, pray for David and come again the next day.
At this point I should explain since I arrived here in Ghana I have struggled with seeing the sick and sickness. I knew coming here that I was going to be exposed to new sicknesses and different methods of healing, healthcare just wasn’t going to be the same. Something I didn’t realize though was how much of a profound affect seeing the children I taught or seen around the school daily falling sick would have on me. Each day I check the register(attendance sheet/feeding collection record) and each day my eyes are always focused on those who have the circles by their names, absent is what that means. And each day I check again to see if there is another circle or if the student has returned. I was also told that lately, because it is the rainy season, there is more children sick then in the other semesters of the year. Trying to take that into consideration, I can’t eliminated my worries one little bit. I feel helpless. Some students, well most student still come to school when they are sick. Well as I said this is my struggle so when I do have students out for a week or two, visiting them if they live in the village is definitely what I’ve been trying to do.
After my friend dropped me at my house on our way back from attempt to visit David, one of the children I visit with sometimes came by the house. I realized that she lived with one of my other students who had been out over a week so tagged along and walked her home. When I showed up at this student’s house the mother said she sent her to fetch medicine so I sat down and waited her return. While I sat the mother started talking to me. She asked me why I didn’t come yesterday and send her daughter to the hospital; this kind of caught me like a left hook. Then she went on to say if she sends her daughter to school tomorrow will I bring her medicine.
Well after my failed visit to David’s I was upset enough to find out he was taken to hospital again and now to have a mother asking me to pay for her hospital visit and medicine for her daughter, it was all too much. Well at this point in my story I have two unsuccessful visits to my students and have an internal battle happening inside me so I hit the hay early.
When my alarm went off the next morning I noticed I had a missed message on my phone so I opened it and immediately I was glowing. My sister had her baby, Gage Daniel, 9 pounds, born at 622pm the night before! I was ecstatic, sad I missed it but ecstatic. I was so excited for all the other girls to wake up so I could tell them but it was only 530 and the others didn’t get out of bed till 7. Well again I wasn’t feeling well, it wasn’t I was sick but it wasn’t a feeling good feeling, I felt weird I can’t explain it but for a second day I held off on my morning workout.
Seven o’clock rolled by quickly though as I did some reading and got ready for school but then there was a knock on my door, breakfast is ready I thought. But when it opened it was my best friend/co-teacher. We exchanged our good mornings and that’s when I knew something was up. She went on to tell me that David had died late into the night at the hospital and that his funeral was going to be that day. Holding myself together as much as possible I said alright and she was gone to tell our headmaster.
Once my door closed I burst into tears. I was just there to visit yesterday. We were going to visit him today. An hour and a half ago I was just on a high and now the day turned bittersweet. I pulled myself together to make sure I was at class on time, ready to be there for the students as well as friends but when I arrived it was class as any other day.
There was much more to this day, David was buried in the late afternoon and we as the nursery/the school attended his funeral. The kids sung for him, danced for him and were all there for him. I broke down to, I’m embarrassed to say, be picked up by David’s family.
As I said this day was very bittersweet for me. A new beautiful baby boy was brought into my life while another beautiful boy was taken out. It really is mysterious the way God works. (With this I’d like to ask that everyone reading to please keep David and his family in your prayers and I want to remind everyone to make sure you don’t wait until someone’s sick to visit, do it now)
But my week is not over… well. I woke up the next day with the worst headache and earache I’ve ever had and I was running a temperature. I laid in bed most of the day and on Canada Day went to the hospital. They did blood tests and they showed negative for malaria but as I write to you I am on meds for malaria because the doctor said just because it didn’t show in my blood he feels all the symptoms are there so wants to treat me for it. I’ve been in bed the past two days and am happy to say I feel a bit better.
Now to deal with the other things that is beating me up… my brother is getting married today and I’m missing it. This wasn’t a planned thing, a situation arose at home and he is doing the right thing getting married, I am just very very very sad I am missing it. I feel like the worst sister in the world and I want to send out the biggest apology and congratulations to him and his new WIFE! You both are such beautiful people and I am so happy for the two of you.
I’m sorry for this upsetting post but in the beginning I said home is where the heart is and this was my home so I hope you can read my story and understand where I’m at right now. I knew things were going to be tough and I did have to read my bad day letter but things will get better, they always do. I’m just trying to focus on the good but had to let out the bad for first. Love you all and I’ll write again soon it’ll be cool stuff I promise!

World Cup Fever Part 2: “Thank you Jesus!”

Well first round is over folks, no more round robin, it’s sudden death from here on out.

Our match was scheduled for June 26^th, Ghana vs. United States. The opinions around the village were mixed, “If we don’t make changes then we’re going home” “Ghana is taking the cup” “If we get two we’ll win, one is not enough, United States is good”. I was also told from home we had no chance, Ghana was ranked 30^th and United States was 15^th but I had a good feeling.

I decided I watched the game over at my friends house just at the back of the village and at half time I’d run over to check out one of my students house who lived close by. Twelve of us sat around a 13” black and white TV with the contrast counter stuck up across the bottom of the screen. We were in a small room with the door open so we could all “fit”(there were five of us outside the door on chairs) and see the TV. Something too I didn’t realized until right now was we were all women or girls but one. Some of the girls had whistles as well as one of the women while the rest of us just clapped, cheered, yelled and prayed?

Bahaha… I put prayed with a question mark because the whole game from my best friend/mommy here it was, “JESUS! JESUS! JESUS!”(all in different tones, I’d say one in thanks, one out of nerves and the other when US got a penalty kick, shotter inside the 18 yard box, Kingston studdered and bam. US scores.) “THANK YOU JESUS”(after the first goal for Ghana, after all the nice saves by Kingston) “LORD GIVE US HOPE!”(in anticipation of another goal, the last ten minutes of the game to keep Ghana tied at 1-1, the last shot in overtime that soared in the US net!) 2-1 for Ghana, yep that’s right folks, Ghana did it again! They posted the W! The village was bumping again…

Next up, GHA vs. URU!

World Cup Fever Part 1: “Now wave your flag, now wave your flag…”

Music pumping out of three four foot speakers, village rumbling while members of the community running about cheering and yelling. Yes sir, the world cup is happening; every Ghanaian television is tuned in!

Our first game was on June 13^th. The whole village bussing, “are you going to watch the football game? Where? It’s on at __ come over and watch”. Yellow, green and red everywhere, shirts, pants, flags, taxi and trow trow decorated, flags wrapped around heads, market workers with the flags wrapped around their business clothes, the colors literally everywhere. Me and the other volunteers headed across the village to one of our host family’s house. We filed into, with the father, children and a few of their friends, the living room. We all watched in excitement, the village so oddly quiet, everyone inside their houses tuned into their televisions. So I sat in a chair in the corner of the room, curled up, quiet as a mouse, holding it all back.

If you know me you know I am not a football’er. I don’t have the natural touch nor can I scout out the whole field in seconds to make the perfect pass but one thing I do have is the heart, I love the game. I was brought up a daddy’s girl, watching the world cup every year it was on from my dad’s lap, him yelling in my ear, “the yellow, the red, the black! It’s their year, It’s their year!!”(typical diehard fan… to bad he supports Germany). This wasn’t brought to the rest of the rooms attention until the first shot on goal and my accidental muttering of, “Bullshit…” and the little laugh that followed that they realized how into the game I was.

The game was intense and I couldn’t keep quiet so I started talking to one of the other volunteers. I had mentioned one of my good friends who is a really good goalie and started talking about one day when he was sharing his “secrets”(sorry about this!). He was telling how difficult it was to judge a penalty kick and how sometimes it comes down to a last second decision of left or right? Which way is it going? Then you jump. I continued my story of how he said intimidation is one of the key factors(kind of like Life of Pi and the determining who is the Alpha male). Was it not seconds later the volunteers phone rang and a call was made in the game resulting in a penalty kick for Ghana! Insane or what?! My friends host father got up and left the room, just shaking his head, he could not watch. We all waited…(at this point my fellow Canadians, think of Olympic moment of Sydney Crosby skating up to the net to shot the last shot of the game…). He shots, he… SCORES!!!!!!!! We all jumped out of our seat, cheering in excitement, some grabbed the person next to them, so exciting! You could hear the distant cheers from around the village. We were all glowing with excitement, well I know me as well as all the Ghanaians in the room were! I yelled from my friend’s host father to get inside, we scored, we scored! It was all so exciting. For the rest of the match we sat in nerves, 80^th minutes, 81^st minute, 89^th minutes…It wasn’t until the 92^nd minute that it was over and the Black Stars had done it! The village was loud, people running through cheering with their flags, the speakers came alive and it was an incredible experience, a complete celebration. Game one for Ghana and we were on top! Fun fact to this wonderful story, The coach of Ghana is actually from Serbia so he beat his own homeland!

Well that was game one and there were two more to follow for sure, Australia and Germany. The Australia game landed on the 19^th. This day was very difficult for me. I had attended a funeral for my best friend/mommy here, her aunt(this is something I will write about later but don’t feel appropriate mentioning it in World Cup Fever). The funeral left me very upset so I decided watching the game was not what I was to do that night. Though I didn’t watch the sounds of the village allowed me to understand the turn out of the game. The intense cheering and music when Ghana scorded then the final time being up and just hearing the villagers take a casual walk home, it was either a tie or lose, which I found out early the next morning was a tie.

But the Ghanaian pride did not stop! If anything there were more flags popping up, more playing of “Wavin’ Flag” out of the speakers before bed and the best I would say, the three boys who walked the village, one in a yellow shirt, one in a green shirt and the last in a red shirt. The football fans were anxious, would we qualify, we had to wait our final match results as well as the others.

June 23^rd, Ghana vs. Germany. This was a big one, not only for placement but for pride. I wasn’t feeling well so ended up staying in and found out later we lost 1-0, oh could I hear my dad now... I was surprised when I found out Ghana ended up qualifying because of their amazing first performance and tie! I was also surprised to find out when I called my dad that the diehard Germany fan was cheering for Ghana and asked me why we lost, my jaw absolutely dropped.

Cape Coast Part 3

After the castle we headed to the hostel for the night. We hit up this nice little restaurant for supper as a group after our long day. It’s really nice here you can go to a restaurant and get some fried rice and chicken for 2 or 3 Cedi which is equivalent to our dollar fifty or two dollar. After supper we headed up to our rooms and play some cards before calling it a night. .
The next morning we all filed into our trow trow, this day with a four hour drive ahead of us. We had decided the night before that we would break up the four hour drive with a stop in Accra. We ended up going to the Oseu market, where we lived like tourists, getting some Western food, checking out some of the local art and jumping at the chance for highspeed internet.
A few hours later we hit the road again not knowing what was in store. We were probably ten-ish minutes outside of Accra, if that, heading for the highway so we could get back in good time when another trow trow drove into the side of us.
I was sitting in the back right corner of our trow trow and the other trow trow was merging into our lane from the right. The other driver honked to signal he was pulling through to the other vehicles around(it’s a thing the drivers, there’s honks always honking but it’s not in the angry “get the **** out of my way way, it’s more of a honk instead of a blinker honk). He then look right at me and then without a second thought slammed into the side of our trow trow. The front of his trow trow was passed my open window at the back so clearly there was no way he was getting over into the lane so for him to even think of honking was absurd. So as I said, I was in the back right corner seat and now you know I had a window to my right as well and it was open so when the other driver drove into us his side mirror didn’t just get knocked off rather it shattered in a V like break outwards, in my direction, covering me in glass. The driver then continued to push his way over into our lane which led me to think, we’re flipping we’re definitely flipping. To all of our surprise the other driver finally stopped pushing us over but then started yelling and yelling, somehow getting behind us then pushing us from our left side and yelling some more which we were about to find out was to pull over.
The other driver and majority of the male passengers get out and the very first thing yelled out of the other driver’s mouth was, ARE YOU TOURISTS?! (I guess this is a good point to mention we had a driver and his mate from our village driving us all weekend) Obviously our drivers yelled no in Dangme and that’s when the arguing and fighting began. Immediately the other driver went back to his trow trow and his passengers got out and started yelling at our driver that it was his fault for the accident and blah blah. Honestly, and this could be unbelievable to someone reading, but all biases aside, our driver was NO way in the wrong. The men continued yelling and pushing each other, grabbing our driver by the shirt. Our mate got out and started getting into it helping out our driver(a mate is the person who travels with a driver of a trow trow and collects the money from the passengers). This foolishness continued on for a good fifteen minutes, back and forth yelling, pushing and more yelling until one of the passenger of the other trow trow, who clearly realized who was in the wrong got our drivers and his co-passengers back into the trow trows. He told our driver to call the police on his driver and they will get him at the next roadside stop.
At this point I was still in shock. I had glass all over me and I continued to be in shock for probably the next half hour of the drive and stayed weary until we arrived home safely, as we did and I am here telling you about it.
Well that puts an end to my Cape Coast adventures! Hope you enjoyed.

Cape Coast Part 2

It felt surreal, every moment of it, the walk up, the walk across and the walk back down through the rain forest. I couldn't help but sit in the trow trow, on the drive out of the countryside into the city, thinking nothing but I'm here, I'm in Ghana.
An hour later we arrived at the Cape Coast Castle. It was definitely an experience I will never forget. Personally, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to be seen as "the tourist" going to see the "sites" of Ghana because this was something that was not a site of Ghana rather a mark of the horrible things a human being can do to another human being.
The Castle was eerie. It was dark. It was uncomfortable. From the moment I walked in I felt this awful feeling that is too hard to put into words. All I could think was how could a human beings do this to other human being. I felt disgust the more of the stories I heard.
We walked through the door and the light vanished quickly. It was dark and the stone walls stood close together. The rooms where the men were kept were a quarter of the size of a volleyball court, made of stone with a very small trough around the room for bodily excretions. The room for the women much smaller and very dark. The stories we heard here of the women who would be taken by the soldiers and abuse, physically and sexually, left me in disgust. Then we were taken to a special room. This room was the smallest of them all, the door you had to duck to enter. There were scratches on the walls and floors and when everyone entered the door was shut over and we all stood in almost complete darkness. This room was were the men who fought, who resisted were put. They knew that if you were put in here you would die. I can't even describe the feelings.
Something that completely overwhelmed me about this whole tour was the door of no return. This was the door that the slaves knew once you walked through you were never to return again. When we walked outside we were told to turn around to see a new sign that was put up two years ago, The Door of Return. Our guide told us that two year ago the bodies of two former slaves were brought back through this door. My eyes watered as they were telling the story. This brought water to my eyes. The feeling I felt during this story, indescribable, it gave me a sense of hope? Is hope the correct word? I don't know but it was a powerful moment. The return of these two people stands as recognition for all those people who did not return. It shows that after this many years so right has been given to the people who had so much wrong done to them. So powerful.
There were many stories of the castle owners but I don't fancy telling them. The horrible things they did and for the only three graves in the castle to be a British owner, his wife and the Priest, it absolutely disgust me.
Well I'd love to write more but times up for today so stay tuned for Part 3..

Cape Coast- Part 1

It's when I stood sixty metres above the rain forest that I realized I was in a place I've always wanted to be, a dream, but slowly I snapped back and realized it was reality.

This weekend was interesting yet again. We left for Cape Coast early Friday morning, it was a poor day so I wasn't really bothered by a four-five hour drive. We arrived at Cape Coast late afternoon, the weather still poor ready to find a place to drop our stuff before grabbing some food. It ended up our friend Evans got us rooms at the GNAT Hostel, Ghana National Association of Teachers. After having a short moment, I AM IN GHANA AND I AM TEACHING, we headed out to Oasis Beach Resort for some food to remind us of home. I stuffed myself with some amazing pizza and french fries before cracking into my first Ghanaian Star beer! (for those of you wondering yes, it was amazing BUT I did only have one) Since it was pretty cold and rainy we decided we'd just head to the hostel for the night, hang out and play some cards so we could get a good sleep for our adventures on Saturday.
The next morning, we all filed into our trow trow and stuffed our face with fresh bread and bananas from the roadside vendors. We headed up the hilly road to the Canopy walk. The Canopy walk is sixty metres above the rain forest and is 360 metres long. It was so amazing. We had to hike up this long trail through, what I kept calling the jungle, but it was actually the rain forest. It was so beautiful and so difficult to put into words. The tree roots were jutting up onto the pathways, tree branches hanging down, animals making noises, the leaves rustling because animals were moving, it was all so amazing. We climbed upwards for about twenty minutes before we reach the Canopy walk. It was a single plank of wood pathway 60 metres high in the air that seemed endless until I reached the last plank. I was absolutely terrified the first few planks but after was able to loosen up, relax a little bit, and take in the scenery both up and down. It was beautiful. I walked sweating from fear and the hike we did to get to it then it started to rain. The rain just made everything surreal to me. I was standing 60 m in the air on a plank of wood, in the rain forest, in Ghana, in Africa, Oh my goodness, I was finally here...

God Bless the Rain Down in Africa...

May 30th
Waking up at 5 am, I sat and read for an hour then help Patience, one of the boarding girls who helps around the house, with the morning sweeping. After we finished with the sweeping I headed into my room to do my early morning work out. At about 7 am I headed out to the table for breakfast with the othre volunteers before they headed in different directions, some had already left for Cape Coast the others heading to Accra for the day. I chose to stay back for the day feeling I just needed the alone time, a break to do what I wanted. I spent the first part of my morning cleaning, my room and myself (shaving and ensuring my feet were actually a natural shade of tan rather than just dirty). I had originally planned to spend the whole day at the boarding house with the children playing and having a good time but instead the morning was washed away... literally.
The rain started at about 10 am out of nowhere. The morning was beautiful, a little cloudy, but beautiful. I was sitting at the table writing in my journal when a little, very light, gust of wind blew though the windom. Usually when you get these little gusts you can tell the rain is right behind but today was different. Suddenly the wind got VERY strong, I honestly thought the tin roof was going to blow off. It just kept blowing at this strength until, *TING TING TING TING TING* It started to down pour. The sky was literally falling upon the village. The sky started to grumble loud, the thunder almost sounding sharp as it cracked in the sky. It wasn't until Sir Godwin and I were racing around to shut all the shudders in the house that we realizd the sky was flashing, quite frequently then what I'm use to too. Little Alown, 3 years old who is probably my favourite child ever(I know I shouldn't have favourites but he's so adorable) was curled up in a ball by the kitchen on the floor covering his ears because all the sounds were all too much for him.
The tin roof clinking, thunder rumbling, lightning cracking and Godwin and I yelling to each other, "Close the other windows too the wind is changing directions!!!" in hopes of getting all the windows covered before the room were soaked.
This excitement lasted for about two and a half hours, definitely the worst storm since I've arrived. Alown and I sat drawing pictures, singing "Rain, rain, go away, all the children want to play" and eating lots of snacks. By the end of the two and half hours the rain had calmd, hadn't stopped but calmed and Alown had wanted to head up to the school to see the other boarding children. So we suited up in our matching white rain jackets and took off to the boarding house in the rain. The thing about this was remember in a previous blog I talked about the difficulty of describing the land, redish soil with sand and shells on top. Well when it rains the mixture turns into a quicksand type ground unless your lucky and find spots in the pathway that is hard like rock. So Alown and I hipped and hopped our way to the school hoping our foot wouldn't get sucked under by the mud and water.
When we arrived at the school the rain had pretty much ended and the boarding children were excited for company. I ended up staying the whole afternoon with them as I had planned, talking, playing the drums and doing wash. The drumming was probably my favourite part. The children were playing, singing , others dancing while the rest just watched and listened enjoying the entertainment. We sat drumming for over an hour then I wandered over to the girls to to help with washing and hang out some.
By 5 o'clock, Alown was tired and we headed back to the house. It was nice when we returned because Bwakey had supper all ready for me and Alown joined me at the table (the boarding children don't eat with us at the table and when we offer food they act as if they'll get in trouble if they take it). So clearly this was a nice surprise for me and I reall enjoyed the company. It was just shortly after that the other volunteers arrived back tired and ready for bed after their own long day so we all hit the hay.

The Beach

The beach is beautiful, reminds me of home. The rumble of the ocean when your at a distance grabs at my heart everytime I hear it. The beach has always been my escape, rain or shine, summer or winter. The stress leaves as the water sprays up at me from the wave cazhing on the shore, it's just so relaxing.

May 16th & May 22nd
Each trip to the beach we left early morning. We piled into our trow trow and off we went, each time a different route. The drive to the beach i definitely a beautiful one. You pass many towns, farms, all the scenery so beautiful. To get to this beach we had to get dropped off just before the Azizanya village. We then walked fifteen to twenty minutes through a village of all straw huts, some with mud walls but majority straw. The huts are all very close together and are enclosed by palm tree leaf fences so it's like a maze to get through. This village is very friendly, children running up to you, "Bafoono!" and parents taking their children over to say hello. Each side of the village is also lined with water, ocean on one side, river on the other. On the way you have to cross three different bridges and it's when you cross the last you know you've arrived.
Palm tree bottoms painted green, yellow and pink line the shore of the beach. You can see straw huts with doors painted of different flage from around the world. There is two straw huts, one you can order cold drinks from(you don't find cold drinks very often around here) and the other where you can order food from. The Volta river is on your right while you can hear the rumbling of the ocean coming from your left.
At this point I found myself taking a moment, it was all so beautiful. I had always said that resorts weren't for me and that I didn't support what many resorts do to communities but for some odd reason here I felt okay, I didn't have that horrible feeling.
After I had this moment I took off to towards the ocean. The beach rolled upward, explaining why I couldn't see the ocean only hear, and when I reached the top in front of me endless white sand leading to beautiful deep blue ocean with highlights of waves crashing close to the shore. It was beautiful. Down the beach in a distance there was one of the unique looking fishing boats pulled up onto the beach with busy men working in the water. I found myself a seat close to the water and just sat taking it all in.
Both times we travelled to the beach we ended up staying the full day at the resort. We had food, not traditional but not Canadian either, just some rice, "salad"(kind of like clowslaw without the dressing), yam fries, you know all that good stuff. Although that reminds me, my first trip there I had Banku and Barracua fish("the best fish on the West coast of Africa," says Godwin) with Godwin, the Arethas, Anoch and two other friends of Godwin's fromt he community. Who would have thought I would ever be in Africa let alone eating a Barracuda fish. It was so delicious. I also met some cool people at the beach as well. There was another group of volunteers who had come over from Togo from working on the Africa Mercy Ship and told me all about it. They were from Canada and the Netherland and travelled the West coast of Africa doing major surguries that may not be offered in local hospitals.
On my second trip, I was able to enjoy the beach more. I played some football with one of the students from the school that had come along for the day as well as playing some volleyball after being asked by some locals which was an absoulute hoot. We also took the boat back to catch our ride to Sega rather than walking through the half wet village at this point in the day. The boat was this old fashion, think like a canoe/kayak mixed but very long and sat at least twenty of us. The boat ride lasted about the same as it would take to walk but it was very beautiful to see the Islands on the river, all palm trees, and the different perspective of the coastline we'd travelled by car each time.
The beach was so beautiful and hard to leave. As I said before I didn't initially like the fact I was supporting a "resort" but later to my surprise I found out this resort actually sends all it's profits to the local school. Funny how that worked out hey. One more trip before I leave Ghana... I think so.

The Snake and The Mouse...

About a week or two ago now two of the other volunteers, Chelsea and Neil strolled into the house, Chelsea as white as a ghost, Neil kind of smiling. "We just had our first snake scare," Neil announced. We all kind of laughed and said snake scare?? Chelsea replying, "Yes. Scare." and sat down. We all kind of laughed again and Neil went on to tell us that the two of them were walking back from school and cut through our regular pathway. The is a small hut on your right when you are walking home through this path that is vacant at the moment. The hut is made of made and the roof is a straw/stick material. Anyways from what we understood a snake was slithering up the side of the house when they were walking by and when it saw them it kind of fell of the house in their direction and slithered right by them. Chelsea was, and might i say, still is terrified of snakes. That was the one thing she said she didn't want to see while she was here so when the snake fell off the house in front of them she squealed and nearly jumped on Neil's back. She also said she started to cry which we all couldn't help but laugh at. Anyways after this all happened it was time for supper and of course we were still carrying on about it, laughing because of the story and poor Chels' reaction ha ha. Emily even cracked the comment, "Hope we're not having spaghetti for supper!" Chelsea was still mortified at this point and we didn't realized it and Emily said, "Your really scared aren't you." And she did nothing but nod so we had a good laugh then quickly changed the subject.
Later that night, after Chelsea got a little settled down and was able to not think about the snake for longer then five or ten minutes I went into our room. I was just grabbing a ziplock bag for something one of the children had and when I did a mouse ran out from behind the box on the desk down the wall and under our bed so clearly I ran out the room squealing to Chelsea. Hearing me Chels jumped up, two feet on the chair, and started yelling, "What?! What?!" Not even thinking that she was still tramatized from the snake I let out that there was a mouse under our bed. Not even thinking we were like let throw the Chappy in the room (Chappy is our kitty Godwin is trying to make a house cat, cats don't live in the house here). So we did. I then realized, well shit I'm allergic to cats. We needed to get it out of the room as quickly as possible. So we sat for like two minutes trying to decide how we'd get the cat out now. Patience, one of the boarding girls then walked into the house so we told her what was happening and she got the broom. By this time I just wanted the cat out the room so I went in with Patience and jumped up onto the bed while she broomed Chappy out from under the bed. By this point I was so tired that I was like I'm sure the mouse is gone so I'm just going to hop in the shower before bed(Washing every morning and night is a must in Ghana and is rude to not do so). So I hopped into the shower and got powdered all up before bed(Telcum powder, saves me, heat rash is terrible here doesn't matter who you are). Anyways, every night before I get into bed I have to tuck in the mosquito net because at dusk and dawn is when the malaria biting squiters come out. The bed Chels and I are sharing is a double so it's actually quite a bit of work to tuck the net down between the mattress and wood frame so I was right up on top of the mattress in the far corner against the wall and I pushed my hand downward and looked down at the same time and I just squeaked. I tired to be very quiet but Chels heard me and went running and jumped up onto the chair in the kitchen. WHAT WHAT!? She kept saying. Godwin hear this all and came into our room and asked what was wrong and I slowly pulled my hand out. He looked down and beside my hand to the right like a millimeter away was the tail of the mouse that we thought Chappy scared back up the wall. When Godwin saw this he flipped up the mattress the mouse running up the wall onto our desk where he originally was. Then Godwin grabbed Chappy threw him onto the desk hoping he would get the mouse but instead the mouse ran back down under our bed. Godwin then threw up our mattress again. At this point Bwakey, the kitchen lady, had come in with the broom, Chels was on the chair still, I was standing peeking in the door from the hall and Patience was just standing beside me giggling. When Godwin threw up the mattress the mouse ran in the opposite direction of the desk but towards me, Patience and Bwakey and Bwakey hit it with the broom, knocking it out... well killing it. We then started to all laugh but even harder when Bwakey flicked the mouse with the broom under Chels who was still terrified on top of the chair.
But what a day for poor Chels. It was a good laugh for everyone else but she said it was cool if I told the story as long as I called it the snake and the mouse. So I hope you got as good of a laugh as we did.

Oh. forgot to mention the very next night we had a new volunteer come, Jess, and she said she was fine with the bugs the only thing she didn't want to see was a cockroach. Let's just say 5 am that morning she awoke with a cockroach right on her chest and the next night with a mouse in the exact same spot! Ha Ha Ha. The joys of creepy crawlers!

It's the little things we take for granted that we should learn to appreciate...

Since I have been here I've have learned to do many different things. I have become so use to doing so many different things already that I didn't realize that I hadn't wrote about it yet so here I go...

Water: I am very happy to say that Sega does have a water station/pump in the village. This is where the people go to fetch "fresh" water to take to their families. The locals carry the water in buckets on their heads which is so difficult, I can't even carry my bags of water on my head. I'm looking forward to learning to carry the water in the coming weeks because I asked one of the boarding girls, Priscilla, if she can teach me and she said yes! This is very exciting because this is something everyone in the village does daily and since I am living in a house with running water I have not had the chance to do so! I also do not drink the local water instead we go to a particular house in the village and pay one Cedi for a bag of about 30 water, which is pretty good. It's a fun part of the day going to get your water because it's a chance to try and carry something on my head ha ha ha! I'm still working on the no hands thing but maybe it'll come soon.

Wash: Wash is also something I'm crazy not to mention. Wash is done manually here, yes, I said manually. Everything is done by hand and it is VERY difficult. It's pretty neat too. You get three buckets, the first you fill half full, the second is half full as well then the third is a half or quarter full, not too much. First you order your clothes lightest to darkest (you really don't realize how much dye/dirt comes out you clothes). Then you put the first few things in the first bucket and take the soap and scrub. When you scrub (for shirts hold the two sleeves scrub the armpits, the front, the elbows, for pants the butt, knees and waist)this is where it is the dirtiest, then you look for any other stains or dirt. You then can scrub in a general manner. When you scrub you hold a piece of the shirt in your hand and rub the hanging part up your holding arm. It's really hard to put into words but it's like your arm is the wash board and you rub up it, then you move your hand down the fabric further and repeat. After the first good scrub you put it into the second bucket this is where you can rinse and check that you get all the dirt. If you see you missed anything you can scrub it in this bucket. Then after you finish the second scrub your third bucket is for rinsing. You have to make sure you give it a good wish around so no soap is left on it then you ring it out and it's ready to hang. Also that reminds me, when you wash your clothes, you wash them inside right so you can see the dirty/stains and when you hang it to dry you hang it inside out, this is in case it falls and/or the sun fades it. Washing is very tiring but I kinda enjoy it, it is a nice little break. As for your clothes... I don't understand how we think washing machines really clean our clothes properly because here, a white sock is not clean if the sole is not white.

This brings me to the animals. I don't know if I mentioned the animals around here yet or not but there are goats, turkeys, ducks, chicken, guinea hens, lizards, cats, dogs, spiders and many more. The animals are a very active part of my life here. I wake up every morning to the crowing rooster, who might I say like to get up particularly early and go to sleep to a ridiculous goat that I am convinced something is wrong with. The animals are all "kept" in the backyard which is fortunately outside my window. I say kept loosely because they wander the village/yards close by. The turkeys are probably my least favourite. The man turkey likes to puff up his feather and makes this puff noise as if he's some big tough guy looking to get a girl. Oh on that note, it's really not unusual for a neighbour to bring his female turkey over and stick it under the male so he can mount her. This was a pretty disturbing thing to see on my fourth or fifth day here. Both turkeys were making awful noises, the man turkey cock-a-doodling and the female yelping for help. Anyways other then that the turkeys are really ugly, it's funny because we thought they were so gross now come to love them after our men disappeared for a few days and new one appeared. The guinea hens are definitely the most annoying. They run around making this awful noise all day and all night. There is one guinea hen in particular that just runs the fence all day, back and forth, back and forth as if he can't fly over it but he can. It's like he's the watch hen or something. Then there is the goats. The goats around here make pretty normal noises and don't bother me too much. Although the baby goat, they sounds like crying babies so we're often like, "is that the children or a goat again?" Finally I'll quickly mention the lizards, spiders and mice since my roomie and I have been lucky to have them as pets since our arrival. The lizards scale the top of our room all day and night. You also hear them during the day walking around on the tin roof which is a pretty creepy sound, yuck. The spiders here are all over the place. We had one that sat in our shower for first week but now has moved on to someone elses I'm sure. Also the mice, well we had a pretty funny experience with the mice around here. I hate to say it but two have been killed already, one one night and the other the next.

Bahahaha but I'm sure by now you're probably thinking I've lost my mind and I'll take this as a chance to close. I will finish the stories about the mice in my next write up. Hope you enjoyed, I promise next post will be more exciting.

The Market

Tuesday and Friday are market days in Sega. The village wakes up very early and the noise begins immediately. The roads are bustling, families walking carrying their goods often on their heads, people packing into taxis, taxis honking, all this to get to Kasseh or "Junction" as the locals call it.
My first trip to the market was on May 7th. It was very overwhelming. To begin the day we all packed into a taxi, and when I say we packed, there were nine of us in a very small car. About twenty minutes later we arrived in what some would describe as sheer craziness. There were stands everywhere, very little space in between. People calling out at you in Dangme(the language spoken here) sometimes even in English. Sometimes the items name was called out, sometimes the price," ONE CEDI! ONE CEDI!... FISH! PLANT IAN!...". You also hear what I like to call the noises of the market. People making phonening noises to get your attention, clicking of the lips and hissing(not in a cat like of rude manner, it's just the way the people grab your attention here). It was all so overwhelming.
The inside of the market, to me, was not as overwhelming as the outside. You have to picture the market as a large square. The center of the market is where you see the stands, table after table, all very close together. This is the area where things are "calmer". Here I feel I can relax a bit more. There are less people grabbing at you, demanding you buy, people inside the market I feel are more chill and laid back.
You then walk to the outside of the market, things are similar. You see all the stands and tables but the difference is the road. There are cars, taxis, trow trows and big bus like trucks that sit probably forty people or more that are also referred to as trow trows, all flying by. Here you have to follow the unwritten rules of the road, if you step in front of any vehicles, bicycles and/or trolleys you're pretty much down for the count or even worst...done ha ha. The outside of the market also extends quite far on the road side. It's definitely not in a square shape or a shape at all I can really describe. The best way I can think to describe the outside is thinking of the awkward roads that take you in every direction to each of the surrounding villages and the stands, tables and stores line the side of them. Here the people are much more grabby. "Bafoono! Bafoono! Buy this! Give me money..."(My spelling of Bafoono isn't correct right now but it's the work you hear most often where you go. It means white man. Children often chase you chanting BAFOONO! BAFOONO! BAFOONO! Wherever you are or whatever you are doing). This is also where you find most of the men. The men, to me, are very intimidating here. When I say this I am not referring to men in Ghana in general, just the pushy men of the market. There men are not afraid to come up to you and put their arm around you, grab your hand, ask you to marry them, say "I love you" and/or say repulsive comments to you. I think I struggle with this because the Canadian culture is much less forward. In a general sense, Ghanaian men are very respectful and caring towards women. It's actually kind of nice. The difference ultimately is Ghanaian men are much more forward and touchy then what I am use to. It's not a bad thing, I just struggle when the men are too forward and pop my comfort bubble I guess.
But back to the market...
Things are fairly cheap here. They are grown and sold locally. It's nice to be able to buy and know who you are giving your money to for a change. Though you know where your money is going you often don't know the price. Pricing here isn't just written on the product like it is at home. You have to learn to barter, which on a side note I am not very good at, to get the right price. It's funny because in preparation to come here our class watched a film called Cannibal Tours. It was talking about how the locals give a price and the white man often barters it down to get a special price, better than the locals. This really deterred me from bartering in the beginning but I realized quickly as I realized as a white man I was getting the special price, four Cedi for a loaf of bread rather then the actual price of one point five Cedi for a loaf.
After an afternoon at the market you're pretty tired. The last taxis leave around six so you always have to make sure you're there before then or your walking to the village. You go to your village's taxi station, a set area where all the taxis to your village sit and you piled back in to go home.
All in all, I've really come to have an appreciation for the market. Yes, it is overwhelming but it's different. It gives you a nice break in the week. It is a display of the hard work of each individual puts into their lifestyle and the community. It shows the production of the farmer's labour, the fisherman's catch, the people's selling abilities, the collection of food to support the family and so much more. All the little overwhelming things end up being ruled out by all the market's great things, it's really nice.
I hope I was able to give you a neat picture of a spot I've really come to appreciate and I look forward to updating you with more stories!

My village, my experience...

So Sega it is. When the sun rose my first day here it was very exciting. We were nine volunteers in one household in a village called Sega, which I'm very happy to say is my home for the next 3 months. The children were very excited, children were everywhere! Games were being played outside, football and cards mostly. Music was loud in the village, we found out later there was an engagement party across the way and engagements are a huge thing here. I'll admit by the end of day one I was tired but the good news was the culture shock was fading.

My Village...
Sega is a beautiful spot. The land is difficult to describe in words, red soil like PEI but sand, shells, pom trees and "lion king trees" also scattered throughout. There are little roads that go throughtout the village. These roads don't really seem planned out like our roads but rather convenient. There are also many paths through the village. I find theses paths say a lot about the movement of the village because they show you to each spot your looking to go(I hope that makes sense). The village is also scattered with animals, turkeys, goats, chickens and ducks being the most popular. These animals are very domesticated, the people often not even noticing they are walking right along side of you. The lizards are probably my favourite part. You see them scaling the houses, scurrying about. I even have one inside of my room which I've come to actually think is quite cute!
The people of Sega are also quite beautiful. Each person in passing acknowledging the fact that you exist, "Good Morning, Good Afternoon, Good Evening..." Others asking how you are, how was school, congratulating you on a hard days work, it's all quite nice. I am finding the children quite helpful as well, asking you if you'd like to see the village, teaching you small bits of the language and helping you understand what the elders are saying. This is very nice and helpful since I choose to live at the Head Masters house rather than with a host family within the village.
Living at the Head Masters house has made me take on different challenges. It has forced me to make the extra effort to get out there and meet the people, do the things the villagers do and challenge myself to learning the language and lifestyle of the village. As I said this is a challenge but one I am trying to take a hold of. The language is VERY different from english, different letters, different sounds and different tones. The lifestyle is also very different as well. Ghanaians are very laid back. When I say laid back I don't mean lazy because in this village they are NOT lazy. The people I have met are some of the most hard working people I have ever seen. The work here many not be structured intensely or punctual, starting at 8am ending at 4pm, but the days are long. The work begins for some at 4am and does not end until after 8pm at night. One lady I'd really like to mention is Bwalky (the spelling may not be correct right now and I apologize if so) she works in the kitchen at our household. Her day starts so early, I don't even know exactly what time because I have yet to have a day where I am up before her. She does all the cooking and cleaning for this house and when I say this house I mean for us, the volunteers, and the children at the boarding house as well. She is constantly working, constantly. If she's not cooking she is cleaning, shopping for food at the market, gardening, washing, getting the young boys ready, getting the children fed and even one day I seen her helping the children with their homework. It's really quite amazing, she is a beautiful person. But I kind of wandered off topic but the people here are so hard working. The laid back lifestyle I talked about is just how the village is, slow, never very rushed but things always get done, it's really nice.

But I have many stories to tell, some really funny actually but I've been writing for a while now and have to make it to the market before it's over. I hope you enjoyed the catch up!

"... Other cultures are not failed attempts at being you, they are unique manifestations of the human spirit." - Wade Davis

I've arrived and am settled in Ghana. I apologize to those of you who have been checking religiously to see if I've arrived safely and hope you received word from my family and friends that I've arrived. The flight was a bit crazy, the doctor had to get called over to me because my heart was racing, I could not catch my breath and couldn't feel my hands or lips. They gave me a little blue pill that knocked me out for two or three hours and I'm happy to say I was fine after that. We assumed it had something to do with my Malrone and the Gravol, I had taken before my flight left, therefore Gravol is not to be seen taken by me in the near future.
After my arrival in Ghana we stayed in Sega for a few days to get use to the culture and way of life. I definitely experienced my first challenge with culture shock upon arrival. The city was huge, the lights were endless. It was something you would see if you flew into Toronto and there were four of them side by side I feel. It's very spread out and like I said endless in both directions. We then piled 13 people and all of our bags(three months worth for everyone)into the trow trow. It was crazy and the driving was crazy. Honking and honking everywhere vehicles pulling up on each side of you with vendors running up to your car between movement. At this point it was late night here, 8 oclock-ish, the roads were dark and our driver was flying. It was really freeing to be honest. When we arrived in Sega we could not see much. The village was black and it was not until the morning we could really see and experience the village.
I would love to write more right now but we are currently sharing the Internet between four people. Keep your eyes open for my next update, it will be soon.

"You Must Strive To Find Your Own Voice Because The Longer You Wait To Begin, The Less Likely You Are To Find It At All."

I'm six days away from getting on the plane to head to Ghana and I couldn't feel more content.
When I say content I'm referring to it in the sense that I'm comfortable with where I'm at in life. For once I've taken the initiative to do something for myself and it feels good. Many people have looked at me and have called me crazy for taking on this challenge but also I have been overwhelmed with the kind words, encouragement and support.
As an Intercordian we were asked to go into this experience with no expectations. We were also told that having expectations might make or break your trip. This is something I have really thought on. Expectations are what have brought me to the point of my life I am at today. I was stuck, sad and didn't know what to do with myself but now I'm thinking clear again, doing things that matter to me and holding on to the reins of life rather then letting go and falling off. I feel that I am allowed and should keep these expectations but in myself rather then the experience. I feel that if I keep expectations in myself I will be happy, rather content.
Being content unfortunately isn't a feeling I've been familiar with over the past three years. I was making wrong choices and not being myself. I got lost but now I feel comfortable saying I have found myself, my voice. I have lit my internal fire again and look forward to the experiences, good or bad, that I am faced with. Life is about growing, about finding yourself and experiencing the journey. I feel I can say I'm back on the ride called life and I'm hoping to enjoy it this time.
My adventure to Ghana is about to begin and I couldn't be more happy. I realize those closest to me may think I am putting my life in Canada on hold for this experience but going to Ghana is now part of my life, my voice. This is something that will shape who I am and I cannot wait. I have expectations of myself for the future and Ghana is the first step of many of my lifetime.

With this I'll leave you with another quote from the Dead Poets Society...
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

Every Person is Born Twice, the Second Life is Among the People...

Love, beauty, passion, courage, sacrifice, affection, boldness, enthusiasm, guilt, sin, anger, lust, loyalty, honour, heroic, success, fortune, fertility, happiness, purity, life, health, death, danger and emergency...These are all words the colour red stands as a symbol for.

We live in a world that labels anyone who is different from "our own" as "the other". This bothers me because we are all one. We are all human beings. Prick your finger and you'll find out. We are all the same, a body filled with many different complex systems one more significant then the other to me, the circulatory system.
I feel all these words are appropriate that I have found. These words make up what each of us holds within our mind, our body and our soul. These words are the blood that runs through our veins. They describe how we feel and how we live. They are not all good nor are they all bad. They are some of the most beautiful words and some of the most frightening words. These words are what makes us human being. These words are what we have to choose from to live by each day.

Red is also the color of the longest wave length. The red colour wave is one that cannot be seen by the naked eye.

Blood is something that runs through our veins and makes up who we are. It is something inside that should not be seen by the naked eye although we know it is always there. It is when we see red that it is a warning. Red has be proven to carry the strongest reaction, as it should. Red is something that catches people attention. Red is a warning.
Our world is torn apart by violence. We see too much red everyday. I hope you are able to understand the message that I bring forth to you today. We need to act on this warning. We need to remind ourselves that red is the colour of the sun, of the hope and warmth it brings. We must teach our children that we are all one. We must teach them to be the children of the sun...


With smiles of the clouds,
Eyes of the soil, the grass and the sky.
They look to the sun for guidance,
In hopes that someday the world will be one.
They are the children of the sun.

It's Not Goodbye, It's See Yah Later...

Goodbyes always seem to be the hardest part. It's when you stand there hugging the person you thought you'd miss the least and start to feel your chest tighten that you know you were wrong...

I stood there in what I thought would be an awkward embrace and choke back my tears. Of all my years here at school and this person has left the biggest impression on me. She is a person of many places herself, very hard working, dedicated to what she loves, good at what she does and one of the greatest people I have met. She has high expectations in others around her but only higher in herself. We've had our differences but two people who expect a lot from each other clearly are going to. You really are an amazing person and have helped me so much over the last three years. This is my overdue thank you, you will be miss greatly. But I know though you and I are on our own new journey this is not goodbye only a see yah later.

Out of respect I'd like to sign off,
This is The Wanderer saying, "See you!"

Holding onto the Reins of Life...

So it's true, I'm leaving in 17 days. I'm very overwhelmed but it's a good overwhelmed. I feel a good explanation is saddling up a wild horse, you hope for full control but you understand it is going to be a challenge and hold on for dear life. I feel this way because I've just returned from the final seminar before my departure. At the seminar I received my ticket, insurance and a envelope full of the support from my fellow Intercordians. Just tying up these final odds and ends with the program has made this experience so much more of a reality, not to mention the fact that I am rounding out the third year of my university career.

These past three years have been a rollercoaster to say the least. I have experienced many ups and many downs. I've hit spots in my life that I thought I would never hit. I've been in lows and I've been on highs. I've lost friends and gained friends. I've grew close to people and grew away from others. I've taken steps forwards and taken steps backwards.

This is an easy way to map out my life but something I've learned is that life is not about these highs and these lows. Life is about what you take from each moment, from living in the moment. Life is a gift and we should each take as much as we possibly can from it. Like my big Brother believes we should have, "No Regrets".

In terms this journey I'm about to embark on, of course I think about the people and places I will miss when I'm away. But I am trying to live in the moment and I signed myself up for this program for a reason, maybe it seems unclear sometimes, but a reason. This is something I am doing for myself that I hope can grow into more, touch more, and I just need to hold on for dear life right now because my journey is soon to begin.


Time is precious, don't waste a moment. Because that moment you waste could be the changing moment of your life.

A Journey of a Thousand Miles, Begins with a Single Step. -Confucius

The wise words of Confucius kindling in my mind everyday. This is why I sit here writing to you, I am 19 days away from my three month adventure to Ghana. Back in January I was accepted into a program called Intercordia Canada. Intercordia is sending me to Ghana to work with a grassroots organization called the Anmchara International School. There I will be living with a host family and teaching at an elementary/intermediate school.(for more information on Intercordia check out http://www.intercordiacanada.org/)

This is an opportunity that not everyone is given, nor is everyone meant for, but this is an opportunity that I am extremely grateful for. This is something I have wanted to do since I was just a little girl but never thought I'd have the opportunity to do. I've always had this dream to go to "the land of the children of the sun" or Africa as we most know it. This journey for me is not about helping, helping is a benefit, but this journey is about the people I met, the relationships I create and experience of a new way of life. By saying this I do not mean my life is not good enough, because by George I have some wonderful people in my life, but I want to be able to understand. I am just a person that believes understanding is learning and learning is something our world needs to do to be at peace.

This blog is going to be my home for the next three month. I am getting a little teary-eyed writing this but home is where your heart is right? I will be off in Ghana missing my family and friends here in Canada. It's kind of ironic I call myself "The Wanderer" because I haven't really been many places at all. This is actually my first big adventure alone but I deemed the name appropriate because of a team of people that lie close to my heart. I also have chosen this name so my Mom would be able to understand me, something I think we've struggled with my whole life. I am a person of many places, I need to understand people in hopes to understand myself and by doing this I've always hoped to make her, my father and my Nanners proud.

I hope that I am able to reach out to each of you and hope each of you will be part of my experience. I welcome you to my home and hope you appreciate and understand everything I write.