Journal Entries

Please bear with me as the following are my last two journal entries. I'll go from most recent to least recent - as that's what blogger seems to like.

Saturday July 23

I've arrived at my homestay. I sort of feel like "Orphan Annie" when she gets to Daddy Warbucks' house and sings, "I think I'm gonna like it here." I could use some background show tunes and my own staff doing flips in the background. Punjab would be a nice addition, but let's not push it.

I'm staying just outside Tamale, in a place called Rice City. There are rice fields and corn fields everywhere and all you can hear at night is crickets. A fence made out of sticks that is mended together with twine is what separates my bedroom from the massive field o' corn.

My host family is very young. There's Francesca who is 2 1/2 and her mother Cynthia, 25 and Francis who is 31. Cynthia's niece Millicent, 17, also stays here and so does a business associate of Francis'. So this means I'm the oldest woman again! Last night Cynthia and I were chatting after Francis went to church (where he sits on the board). She told me that now I'm her older sister. It's nice for me to have a younger sister as I'm the baby in my family.

It was difficult saying goodbye to Ato (the country director for JHR who brought me to Tamale yesterday). He literally dropped me off on the side of the road before Francis came to pick me up. I felt really alone, looking around this different city with goats everywhere! But I have already found my special goat. He is black and white and only walks on three legs - his front right leg is injured and he keeps it up. I saw him when I went to check out my radio station for the first time and then when I was feeling sad, he passed by again - in a completely different part of town. So, I've decided he's my magical goat! (James... I'm just waiting for your response!)

Tamale is much more beautiful than Accra. When we got off the bus, it was hot. I've never felt anything like it. Accra is on the coast, so the ocean breezes were helpful. But I'm 640km north; there's no breeze here - ever - unless you're in a car with the windows open or have a fan - but fans seem to circulate the hot air around too. My personal mini batttery-operated diva fan did the trick today tho. Especially when I got home. I took Francesca out for a walk and got lost. Not so encouraging to get lost with a two year old in tow as she thinks every house is her house. "That one!" she'd point. So a girl ended up chasing us in the swealtering heat, thinking I was pulling an Angelina Jolie, trying to take an African baby back to my homeland. She lead us back to the house and everything was OK. Phewph. First day I get lost with a child in the middle of cornfields. Gives a whole new meaning to Children of the Corn.

The electricity was down here for most of the day - hence my transfering of paper journal to electric journal now. I woke up this morning because my ceiling fan stopped working. There' s only water in my house from Wedneday to Saturday. Don't ask why. The only way to have hot water is to boil it in a big pot over a fire in the court yard. Cold water is better anyway, because it's so farking hot here.

Last night they told me to have a shower before bed. A shower consists of filling a bucket of cold water in a concrete room; squatting and pouring it over your head.

Millicent made me a tomato and onion omlette for breakfast this morning, with real tea and white bread. It's strange eating a hot omlette with only my right hand. Feels a bit weird, but almost a dream come true for me as I'm a bit of a mess when I eat anyway. Last night FRancis and his collegue took me out for a beer. They thought it was very funny when I told them I've eaten with my left hand before in Canada.

Francis is the treasurer at the University here and Cynthia is a hair dresser. She said she could braid my hair for me. I might get her to do to bigger ones in the front, leaving the rest of my hair as it is, as it will get it out of my face.

I brought Francesca a hacky sac from Toronto. I didn't know how old the children would be. Hacky sac was kind of a funny thing to bring as I'm so bad at it - but Francesca and I have invented other games to play with it instead. She is very tall for 2 1/2 and always wants to be near me. She talks constantly and she wraps crocheted blankets from the chesterfield around her body because that's how Ghanaian women carry their young. I told her we should get her a baby to put in there. I think I'll get her a doll from the market so she can carry it around and look even cuter than she already is.

Now she's jumping off a pillow and keeps looking at me saying, "I'm jumping!" about every 30 seconds. Then she'll tap me on the hand and say it again. Her hair has been braided with dark red and black string and one of the braids has come loose, giving her a fraid look! She's wearing little hoop earings and a pink dress with a white frill. I'm already smitten with her. We draw pictures together and she loves showing me all her mosquito bites. "Look at this," she says pointing to them. She also got bit by the dog, Jacylyn, a golden retriever who is always tied up in the courtyard. I asked them if they ever take her out for a walk. But Osen (Francis's collegue) says, "If we take her for a walk, she'll run away and never come back." I feel really bad for the dog. Unfortunately he's not human, so I can't report on it! Jacylyn won't stop barking at me. I'm starting to get offended, but I guess she just needs time to get used to me...

I went to a bar called Giddy Pass tonight by myself. I heard that ex-pats go there. But today I decided to sit on my own and soak it all in. Some Ghanaian boys/men came up to me and I've made some great contacts for stories. I've got a meeting with one of them on Monday who works for an NGO to educate people in smaller towns around Tamale on AIDS, and education. He said he'd be a guest on the show.
I had dinner at home tonight which was corn porridge and beef with some vegetables. Kind of slimy but spicy and very tasty. Cynthia was so happy that I liked it because they were terrified I'd hate thier food. All in all, very good day!

(Kumasi to Tamale)
Friday July 22 2005

I'm sitting on the tro tro right now. A tro tro is like a minivan; but more rickity; they break down all the time. Ato has bought the entire back seat - (four seats) so we can stretch out. This morning was hilarious. I've had diarreah since last night's meal which was called "red red." It consists of plantain, chicken breast and leg and beans mixed with fish. So this morning when we got to the tro tro station, nature was calling again. So we asked the tro tro driver if there was a bathroom around. He directed us up the red-soiled streets of Kumasi.

Women were cooking corn in boiling water over fires as the sun was rising. WE finally got to the washrooms and Ato paid the woman outside. The smells from the street's outdoor sewer system were already pongy and the washrooms were worse. When I walked in, I saw a woman squatting and crap everywhere. I quickly left, contemplating whether to tell Ato if I went or not. But then I decided to tell him because I was still anxious to get to a loo! He said he hasn't used one of those in 10 years.

We came back to the tro tro and ATo asked if there was a hotel around because I still hoad to go. There were about 10 Kumasians standing around yelling in hausa or dagomba. Then Ato said, "Your nature's call is being broadcast!" Now that the entire city of Kumasi knew about my bowel movements, we moved on to a restarant where they had a flushing toilet.

Mike Armitage has officially saved me for this tro tro ride. He suggested I buy charcoal tablets because Imodium can clog you up, keeping a paparsit in your body if there is one. I've just had a cliff bar, water and two black pills. Think I may even last to the next stop. Thanks Arms!

I'm very excited to see where I'll be spending the majority of my time for the next eight months of my life.

I can't get over how people walk around with everything on their heads. Before our tro tro took off, a woman had a bucked of what looked like popsicle sticks on her head. Ato told me they're called chewing sticks. They come from a tree called Twapia that has chemicals that work in the same way as flouride. Dentists here claim that chewing on twapia sticks is as effective as brushing your teeth with toothpaste. The sticks last for about a week.

Ato doesn't have a walkman so I've lent him my discman. My sister teases that it's as big as a laptop. I gave him a CD taht a DJ gave me on one of my last nights in Toronto. Ato lasted about five minutes.

"Don't you have any country music?" he asked.
"No."
I looked through all my CDS..
"Hip hop?" I asked
"No." he said
"U2?"
"No"
"Dave Matthews?"
"No."
"Here, you might like this one. It's mellow."
"Is it Celine Dion?" he asked.
"No, it's Jack Johnson."
"Is it mellow like Celine Dion?"
"Yes."

I'll probably be struck down for that white lie. If Celine Dion is mellow, then paint me pink and call me Rita.