Dardanus Calidus: The Hermit Crab

I'm home in West Virginia for the week, helping my family settle in to their new house. Last week I graduated college. I spent the week of graduation watching my roommates pack, and I also helped a few friends move in to their new apartments. In August, I'll be moving all my stuff from DC to store in West Virginia, while I spend a year at the University of Granada in Granada, Spain with Assemblies of God World Missions.

As I was moseying along in my beloved Honda Civic yesterday on my way to CVS, I switched into autopilot mode. 

Not to scare ya'll; I mean I was still driving the car. 

Do you ever do that? Surely you do. One moment you're driving along and thinking about the cars in front of you and the "separate the hazards" rule they teach you in Driver's Ed. Next thing you know, time passes and something snaps you out of this reverie that had apparently consumed you. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the traffic in your midst, and of your hand on the wheel. You realize you had been consumed with the thoughts or memories or images or to-do lists running through your your mind instead of the road. 

Ya, you know. You know what I'm talking about.

So anyhow yes, this happened to me. 

In my reverie, I kept returning to this image: hermit crabs. I realized that, well… we're a lot alike, hermit crabs and me. Hermit crabs change shells all the time. When the largest crab outgrows his shell, he moves into a new shell, and the second biggest crab moves in to his recently vacated shell, and so on. They move down the line, all the way down to the smallest hermit crab. 

It feels weird and awkward at first to try the new shell on for size, and sometimes I wonder if a bigger crab is gonna come along and steal my place. What if I'm not ready to move to a new country for a year? Shouldn't someone else more prepared and brave and stable and talented take the spot? What if I miss people too much? What if this dream is, well, just a dream? What if I fail?

What if.

What if I never said those two words again to express fear over what could be, but rather used them to speak potential over what is. 

What if failure was instead not trying at all? What if it's not about me? What if I'm just the means to the end? What if I'm living for the applause of nail-scarred hands? (Thank you Mark Batterson.) What if I need to vacate in order for others to rise up? 

I'm running afraid but contentedly toward the grandeur of adventure and purpose. 

Pursuing things that make me uncomfortable make me dependent on God, and give me more adventure than I could ever create for myself. 

Four years ago, God moved me up to AU when I thought I wasn't ready. They have been the most transformative years of my life. 

Now, I'm movin' on.

If I were chasing dreams, I'd be disappointed with the life of a hermit crab. 

No place would ever be big enough. 

So I guess that is the cool thing about chasing God. 

God-sized dreams may keep us on our toes, but they are never too small. 

when thoughts become words

today is sunday, the first sunday in august, and the first time i've had a moment to myself in months. i cozied up with that moment, wrapped myself in its floppy arms all awkward like a prom picture, and set about to putting away the laundry i'd done the day before.


to set the scene for the thoughts you're about to read, i should tell you i'm conflicted. not the Ohmygod I'm just so sad and my life is desolate because I'm not where I want to be and it's painful and I know where I should be but I can't get there and that's the worst part! kind of conflicted, but more of the What do I freaking DO with myself now that I'm exactly where I want to be, which is where God wants me to be? I've never felt so aligned and perfectly placed in my life and I almost feel like stepping out of bounds just to mess something up and feel human again! kind of conflicted.


you know, the conflict that comes from making peace in war, from finding purpose in pain, from knowing that there's nothing good in me but there's everything good in a God who orchestrates it all.


i've been traveling around a bit lately. i've been working at my part-time internship with this great organization called DC SCORES tuesdays through thursdays, but on the weekends i've been bookin' it. went to the Outerbanks with my mom and brothers and aunt and uncle (ok well i cheated and missed work for that); to Newport Folk Festival and Boston with friends, made a pit stop in Jersey along the way; headed to NYC just 2 nights ago to see the honorable Jon Foreman put on a show, contemplated life on the Brooklyn Bridge and drove back to DC through the night; awoke and went to West Virginia yesterday morning to meet up with friends from back home.


which leads me to today, this moment, on the 8th floor, on the carpet of the Rudeshack. thinking. 
i have a question for you. when traveling, do you ever find yourself thinking Oh yes, I could see myself living here! or Holy crap, WHY would I ever subject myself to living here?! 


well i think about these things all the time, so my recent travels have been no exception. here's what i've come up with:

• i've decided i want to live in New York sometime-- soon, preferably. every time i'm in that city it calls out to me and gives me a new reason for blessing it with my presence
• i definitely never want to live in the Outerbanks; i can think of many a beach on a better coast (cough the West Coast cough) that offer a much better vibe and raw beauty 
• West Virginia is great because life is simple and slow and open, but living there would leave me unstimulated and sad
• and as great as Newport and Boston are, Newport is just a bunch of Sperry-wearing sailors and Boston gets NASTO weather in the wintertime

and then there's DC.
and this apartment, the Rudeshack.
the Rudeshack and i are going on our 3rd year together, and it's feeling like home. DC is feeling like home. DC has felt like home. but each of those places i've just mentioned, albeit some of them places i'd NEVER want to inhabit, communicate some variation of that this is home feeling to me when i'm in them.


which leads me to ponder that perhaps home isn't a place; perhaps it's something more.


perhaps Jon Foreman has it right when he sings This is Home. maybe home isn't a place on a map, and maybe it's more a place within. a place of peace and aspiration, a place of purpose and action and dreams and reckoning.
a dwelling place, in which dwells a God more personal and real and loving than i know what to do with.
come to think of it, maybe Jon Foreman said it even MORE right when he sings House of God Forever. or maybe, just maybe, i should stop stalking Jon Foreman in both the literary and the literal sense, and point out that David said it right AND said it first, when he wrote Psalm 27.

One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple. For in the day of trouble He will keep me safe in His dwelling; He will hide me in the shelter of His sacred tent and set me high upon a rock. (new int'l version, verses 4-5)

maybe home isn't a place, not yet at least, that i can find. maybe home is wherever God takes me in life, because He's with me and in me as He takes me. maybe home is wherever He is. which is a pretty beautiful thought.


i'll leave you with one final thing i created. (see below.)
i wrote it just a few minutes ago, when i couldn't stand the hum of the three air conditioning units any longer. as grateful as i am for air conditioning in this DC heat, i sure did damn those things under my breath. or maybe it was aloud; i'm not really certain, as i am home alone and i can say anything i want because no one is here to hear me!


ps.
just kidding, air conditioners. you're great! and appreciated! and loved!!!1!1


anyways. here you go. enjoy.










title: a poem, a cry


i've forgotten what silence sounds like.


HELP! CAN'T ANYONE HEAR ME!
don't leave me alone with my thoughts


but worst of all,
don't leave me alone with the souuundds


ah! why are they so amplified!


why could i never before hear the jangling of my bracelets?
why is the air conditioning unit SCREAMING at me?


I WANT TO SCREAM BACK.
i want to make a sound, ensure this isn't a dream, that i'm real, that i matter.


GET AWAY YOU DAMN THING. STOP CHASING ME INTO MYSELF.


the water faucet makes a sound?
who knew a spicket could sing.
sounds more like the screeching of a crow than a chorus of angels...
maybe i should start some music.
it will slow things down, reduce the jitters, ease the tension, provide an escape


an escape
from the sound of silence
that attacks me randomly, repeatedly, acutely
sharp and short like a blood sugar test
heavy and raw like an undercooked steak hitting an empty stomach: unchewed, hard to swallow, impossible to digest.


silence quick and relentless like an infantry on battlefield, led by cavalry and weapons and flags,
each one waving and poking and pushing at me as he passes.


I HEAR YOU GOD
I AM LISTENING


You haven't given me much of a choice have You?
okay, well.
what do You want to do? ...can You say something please? because all i hear is this pen against the paper and the creaking of the walls and the traffic down below and the wind as it rushes up against the panes, and all the while the stupid air conditioner marks time with its steady hum, making me wish i knew what key ihwe89128795#$!@5l2gye21 was in, because that's what it sounds like. making me wish i had an ear for telling what key things were in at all.


is this what You had planned?
for me to be alone,
plagued by the sound of silence and the constant Simon and Garfunkel references that phrase brings to my mind?


maybe it is.
maybe You're saying:
I AM HERE
CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?
can't you feel Me poking and prodding you to get off your sorry ass, kneel down before me, and worship me simply because 
I WAS
I AM
and I WILL ALWAYS BE?


okay, God.
ok ok ok.
i get it.
no more going through the motions, no more being surprised when you "show up."
i get it. you're shown up. you're here.
in the mundane.
full of glory and mercy, power and humility, the sweet and the savory, finality and temporality.
painfully tangible yet soothingly ubiquitous.
you're here.
i get it.
count me in.

we're off to new lands, so hold on to my hands: it's easter time in GHANA

Out of Ghana's 24+ million people, 68% are Christians.


It's impossible for me to escape God in Ghana, or at least, impossible to escape mention of God. I've been preached to by screaming self-ordained reverends on 5-hour bus rides, sung to by gospel choirs in the courtyard of my dormitory. Pictures of Jesus or the Virgin Mary are everywhere: on tro-tros (large vans for public transportation), in shop windows-- I even met one man who wore a suit made out of fabric with Jesus's face all over it.


I have never seen so much Jesus at one time.


That said, knowing what I know about the typical Ghanaian's dedication to all things Christian, I figured Easter ain't no joke in Ghana.


Now, two days post-Easter, I can say with certainty that Easter is HUGE here.
It's a public holiday. All public/private universities get four days off. Everyone celebrates. Those who have the ability travel to one place: the Eastern region, arguably the most luxurious region in the country. There are mountains, oh so many mountains! The air is cool, the mosquitoes few, the roads paved and free of trash. The streets turn into one big party, causing traffic backups. The alcohol flows freely (well, not literally.. you still have to pay for it), no one works, and every one lets go of all responsibility for the occasion. Azonto (the preferred dance of my Ghanaian peers) finds its way into the streets as well, any time, anywhere. Big bandstands even hold Azonto Dance Competitions for all who think they are just THAT good at Azonto-ing. Fights break out, sometimes about trivial things, other times due to family drama. People stay up late, eat a lot of fufu and goat meat, dress up to the nines.


You know, just your typical Easter.


I spent Easter weekend at my friend Ruth's family's home in Kwahu-Pepease, a small rural town in the Eastern region, with some friends from school and Ruth's Auntie Amma-- aka the best Ghanaian cook known to man.


Timeline of events:

• FRIday: travelled to Pepease. An all day affair, on horrible roads in a big orange bus. I swear one time we hit a pot hole that sent me flying three feet up from my seat. Three feet, I tell you. It was so much fun. Held a woman's baby when she got out of the bus to pee on the side of the road. For the first time, I wasn't nervous to hold someone else's child. Victory.
• SATurday: happily ate DELICIOUS food, met lots of people and saw great sights in the mountains, went to the Paragliding Festival. Crashed a party that night. Attended Azonto competition. Took a bucket shower.
• SUNday: Easter Sunday. Awoke early, perched precariously between two options: go to church or go hiking? For those of you who know me well and know my restless tendencies even better, I think you know what I'm going to say...

I went hiking.


The way I saw it, I could either: go to church which is something I've 1) already done in Ghana and 2) done for the past 20 years of my life on Easter Sunday *OR* go find this awesome trail I learned about from a Peace Corps volunteer. In the spirit of the Ghanaian Easter, which I perceive as "anything goes," I chose hiking. (An aside-- afterward, I didn't feel bad for choosing the hike because I learned church was officiated all in local language, and it lasted like 5 or 6 hours.)


The adventure started out well enough. We caught a cab to Mpraeso, a junction the Peace Corps guy had told us to catch a ride at. But from there on, the plan failed. No one knew about this town or hike I was talking about, and the phone number we had gotten from the Peace Corps guy for directions was disconnected. We were lost. But, this one taxi driver mentioned the town of Obo and I had a good feeling about it, so we got in a taxi anyhow and to Obo we went.


We were in the taxi, driving on winding roads for a LONG time in the middle of nowhere. Though there were mountains all around and they seemed to call out to me, "Meredith, come hike me! Choose me!" there was also bush-- aka scraggly vegetation not suitable for hiking-- and Ghana doesn't exactly have parks with designated trails as America does. Thus, we were at the mercy of the cab driver and a girl in the front seat named Ludeis. Ludeis invited us to her home; she said knew of a hike near by. With no other better option and no where to be, we ended up on her front porch and met her whole family. She asked us if we wanted to go party (it was 10 A.M. haha) but we said no, we really wanted to hike...

Another aside---
This is Ghana in a nutshell. Well, this is MY experience in Ghana, in a nutshell:
NOTHING EVER ENDS UP AS PLANNED. In fact, IT ENDS UP BETTER THAN PLANNED.

Ludeis led us to none other than the Ghana Hiking Festival, a festival on top of a mountain, with a hike into a cave, that only happens once a year on Easter. I got to wear a headlamp (!!! I was sooo happy.) and hike up this huge hill using a rope. The cave was awesome and cold and so large; it was used by one thousand Ashanti warriors in the 1700s to hide from Kwahu warriors during their war for territory. After the hike, we ended up dancing tribal dances to drums, and then Azonto-ing, with random Ghanaians in the middle of a forest.
Random, you say? Such is my life.

In Ghana, there are three phrases I've picked up (among others) which I'll probably never stop saying:

1. It is finished: means something is gone, no more. Instead of saying, "We're out of beans," or "There are no more seats left in this cab," Ghanaians say, "The beans are finished," or, "This cab is finished." 
2. I am coming: used to reassure or express delay; replaces the American English phrases, "Gimme a minute," or "Wait, hold on a sec."
3. You're invited: means, "You're welcome to join" or "Help yourself." Especially used at meal times, since people customarily invite one each other to their meals. I.e., my roommate literally invites me to her meals of rice and sardines every day, even if I'm just getting out of bed and haven't opened my eyes or brushed my teeth. "Meredithhhhh, you're invited!!" is something I hear quite often. Sharing food has become normal. ..Hoorah sanitation!

The bottom line:

It is finished. Christ died for us, and rose again, offering to us undeserved grace and a reason to hope. But beyond that, He is coming. He is walking before us, and will return to this earth to bring it full-circle. And not only that, but you're invited to get in on the action; to pick up your cross, lay down your burdens, and walk confidently in the incomprehensible love of the Father. After he rose again, Jesus promised in Matthew 27.18-20:

"All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age."

Where are you walking? Take the first step, even if you don't have a specific destination in mind-- 'cause I assure you, He does. The Bible says we may plan our ways, but that He directs our steps. We have freedom, authority, and responsibility to walk boldly and make disciples, wherever we are.

The crazy thing is that I deserve death. You deserve death. We all do. I deserve to be six feet under. I am the chief priest, the elder, the scribe-- the one who mocked Jesus and told him to climb down off the Cross and save Himself, if he was indeed the Son of God as he claimed. I deserve death, and I always will.

But He gives me life. 

Grace is an invitation to be beautiful. We are covered by His blood, and invited to a beautiful story. I never would've thought my steps would have led me to Ghana, but here I am. Here I was, on Easter, in a cave, learning more and laughing more and loving more than I ever thought possible. 

Where is your story? He walks before us, He's established it to be. So, go.

I've learned so much while abroad that I often can't articulate it, hence the reason for not blogging since February. But if anything, Ghana has taught me that things work out. They just do. It's not luck, or coincidence, or chance. It's providence. There may be pain or confusion or miscommunication along the way, but God's walking ahead of us and there's nothing any power of this world can do to stop Him. He walks before us, constantly switching things up in His perfect way, tangling us up in a beautiful mess of dependency on Him and purpose in him and relationship through him.  

Wherever you are, celebrate. Celebrate the death and resurrection of Christ. Celebrate the new life He's given us sinners, at the cost of God's only son. Whether the Ghanaian way, the American way, the Polish Dyngus Day way, celebrate.

That is what I've learned this Easter.

where you lead, i will follow

yesterday i talked with my mom on the phone.

moms make everything better.

or at least, mine does. 

she's like the lorelai gilmore of the real-life dimension.

as soon as i started talking with her, i started processing all the changes and challenges i'm facing right now-- things i didn't, before now, let myself think much about. until now, i've been taking in everything and it's gone in one ear and out the other, in my eyes but not to my heart. i don't yet know if i'll fall in love with ghana like i'm in love with washington, dc, or south africa, or even west virginia. but i do know that i'm going to take it one day at a time, and i'm going to be a critical observer and participator of all i experience. 

so, i'll begin by taking you on an abbreviated (hopefully) tour of my last few days here:

last week.

-i learned to dance. 

dances of west africa are so much fun! i first learned a dance choreographed by my friend Atsu, a dance and performance graduate from the University of Ghana. he graciously toned down the difficulty for us, since most of us do not know how to dance. also i think he wanted us to look good because we have to perform it at a welcome gala this weekend. 

the second dance session consisted of a dance workshop held by the head of the dance department, and it was amazing. i'll be taking his dance class this semester, and i honestly can't wait. the professor talked about the significance of dance in this culture, and how ghanaians are raised dancing. even as infants, he pointed out, they're fastened around their mothers' backs and bounced up and down with the rhythm of work and commute. coming from a mother who doesn't dance except when she wants to embarrass me, and a father who prides himself in his two signature moves (the moonwalk and a motion that resembles something like hula hooping), i know you're eager to see how this whole dance thing works out for me. so am i, so am i.

-i cheered on the Black Stars.

football here is a world of its own. i mentioned in my last post that sundays are the only time life stops here, but i stand corrected. ghana shuts down for two things: church and football. i had the privilege of experiencing two games last week, against Botswana and Mali. a bunch of us made our way to TymeOut, a bar in one of the hostels here, to watch the games.  i'm trying to figure out how to adequately convey how soccer spectatorship works here. in short, know this: there's lots of dancing. what a surprise. 

my friend emma (not you, emma uebele) said it well when she called it "a ghanaian musical." it really is. you know how in musicals, life is just goin' along-- and all a sudden, people burst into song to express emotion or events in a way like no other, and then BAM! the music stops and before you know it all is back to normal and it's like nothing ever happened? yeh, it's kind of like that. when ghana scores, Azonto (see U Media Films - Azonto - Fuse ODG Feat. Tiffany (OFFICIAL) ), aka pretty much ghana's unofficial anthem, blasts over the sound system for five or ten minutes. the room erupts into mayhem: everyone jumps up, guys rip off their shirts, and go to town on some Azonto. it's impossible to avoid the madness; complete strangers dedicated at least 5 minutes of their precious celebration time to dance with me and teach me Azonto. 

so, in conclusion, this is what happens: goal. people cheer. music turns on. dancing starts. the game continues. everyone still dances. the bartender finally decides it's time to turn the music off. people sit down. silence falls. life resumes.

Azonto.

-i toured the city of Accra: 

its downtown district, its urban poor areas. saw the Atlantic. 

i can't wait to explore the city and get a feel for it, since i've spent most of my time thus far in the ghanian version of suburbs. as we were touring the Kwame Nkrumah Memorial, it began raining HARD: a dry-season rarity! i haven't taken many pictures thus far, but i did take some of the storm clouds around that time. they were breathtaking; it was so good to see something besides dust in the air.

yesterday.

….and then yesterday was a day of its own. it proved another lesson in nothing-ever-goes-as-planned in ghana. i went to church at 8am with a friend and a French-speaking international student to Legon Interdenominational Church. it lasted a VERY long time. on top of the pre-church bible study, there was a baby dedication, a meet-and-greet for first time visitors, several performances, and at least a half hour of announcements. i thought the announcements portion was funny because all the announcements were listed in the bulletin, yet they were announced over the microphone anyhow. the preacher gave a message on the church as Christ's bride, and talked about how we can't discount our past and present selves as we place our faith in what's to come. 

i planned to walk home from church, but this guy that lives in my hostel gave me a ride. we listened to the radio and let me tell you the radio stations here are so weird. they play The Carpenters, random US hits, r&b, traditional African, soul, and gospel. it doesn't matter; come one come all. the exception to the rule: on sundays, they play country music. well, this station does at least. so on the way home from church i sang along to rascal flatts. in ghana. and it didn't feel as weird as it probably should have.

after church i'd planned on going to the beach, because i STILL haven't been and cannot wait to grace the atlantic ocean with my presence, but my friend slash neighbor Rachel fell ill and thought she had malaria. it was just a false alarm (she got antibiotics for her fever/chills/aches anyhow), but we went to the university hospital and spent the afternoon there. it was no beach, still a great experience seeing the inner workings of a ghanaian hospital. the doctor didn't show up for 3 hours, which was apparently better than how it usually works. and it's all open-air, one level. i could pretty much walk anywhere and go in any room i wanted, even though i didn't have clearance. people were laying around in hospital beds, and there were extra beds chillin' outside on the sidewalk. one of our orientation leaders went with us, thank God, because he knew what to do and where to go.

other rando tid-bits of information:

-i did my laundry today for the first time and i think i failed. it's all hand-wash, put outside to dry kind of thing. i think i didn't actually wash it enough though because the stains are still there. in case you were wondering.

-i had two skirts made! and a dress. two ladies camp out in the hostel in the evenings with fabric and measuring tape, and they make amazing pieces of clothing. i picked out some bright and crazy patterns, and i can't wait to have new clothes. i packed rather light, so any new garment is a joy.

and finally, class. ..the reason i'm here. or so they tell me.

well, class starts today. in about two hours. at least, i think it does. there was a huge strike today on campus, the second since i've been here. i don't think it was the teachers though, i think it was the administrators, so we're good.. class should still be a go. people make demonstrations here a lot about salaries and such, since they're government paid (or underpaid) and employed.

my roommate is still not here, but i think i'll have one eventually. apparently she could arrive as late as a week or two from now, since a lot of people just don't show up for class the first week or so. 

here's my schedule, subject to edits/additions/etc. i think i'll have to drop a class, unfortunately.

Poverty and Rural Development (sociology308)

Sociology of Deviant Behavior (sociology314)

Twi Language

Human Osteology and Forensic Anthropology (archaeology312)

Contemporary Ethical and Moral Issues (religion356)

dance class

music (drums)

oh and i might add in an internship/volunteer experience. cause i really want to get involved with a non-profit here.

alright, well the quality of my writing has declined and i have nothing left to say. if you've read this far, bless your soul. i hope this update finds you well in Amurrica, or wherever you happen to be.

sending my love,

meredith

First Impressions.

Hi, I'm alive and in Ghana and about to write a huge post to squelch any curiosity one might have about my experience thus far. Classes don't start till next Monday, so for now I'm just orientating and registering and figuring out life here. I'm finding I'm starting to miss certain things, like driving around in my Civic listening to Needtobreathe and hugging my friends and calling my mom whenever I want to. But for the most part, this is an amazing adventure!

Cheers.

BEGIN.

I am a huge Jane Austen fan. Always have been. I remember one time in high school I read all her novels within a week or two of each other. I'd stay up reading until 3 or 4 am and sometimes squeeze in a BBC film adaptation, just in time to make it for school at 7:22 am sharp the next day. 

Now to modern day, and the reason for this anecdote. Austen first decided to call Pride and Prejudice "First Impressions." (It was later changed to Pride and Prejudice, and I suppose that title ended up fitting the story best.) But here, for my first account of this glorious place, I will borrow Austen's idea in a way, and list my First Impressions… of Ghana. 

Drumroll.

1. the red clay

There is no brown dirt here. It's all red clay, and so every day I feel like I'm down South in Mississippi visiting my mom's family. If it weren't for the nostalgia and the awesome way the red clay contrasts with the green trees and grasses here, I'd get mad at the red clay. Because it makes all my shoes gross and leaves my sandal-clad feet looking 10 shades darker than the rest of my body.

2. the developing nature

Since Ghana has been free from British control since the 1950s, it's proud of itself as a country and an identity. They don't identify by skin color here, like we do in the US. They identify by nationality, and within the country by tribe. Either you're Ghanaian or you're a foreigner. There are tribes of course under the Ghanaian identity but that seems to be less emphasized. My friend Astchu said that his favorite thing about Ghana is its peace. He said, "The peace here has let our country develop and become great, because it's not worried about bombs or fighting wars." 

A great deal of conversations I've had since arriving here have centered around the discovery of oil in Ghana, capitalism, exports and imports, lack of infrastructure, and China. China is taking over the world (duh), aka investing in resources here and taking it away from the people; one professor from the Univ of Ghana called it modern-day colonialism. More on this later to come, but for now I'll continue my Impressions.

It's mind blowing to be in a developing country and in West Africa, definitely a culture shock if I let myself think about it too much. The lights can go out for hours, other times they flicker. I bought a bucket to keep in my room because the water can go out at any time, in which case a bucket baths would become necessary. This is a little too outdoorsy for some people on my program, but whattteevverr. Losers.

Huge uncovered gutters 2 feet wide and 3 feet deep line every street, so you've gotta watch out for those when you walk around. This makes pedestrian adventures at night especially adventuresome. 

There are no speed limits, nor lines on the road, and pedestrians don't have the right of way. Ever. So driving here would be so fun! ..In my opinion, at least. Some people drive, but most catch taxis (after they bargain a good price) or the tro-tro, which is a passenger van that fits in at least 20 or 25 people at a time and charges a flat rate of 50 pesewas (a pesewa is a Ghanain coin).

3. the food

Ah, food. Spicy food. Fried plantains. Mangoes. Need I say more? The food has been spectacular. I eat a mango a day, at least, and cut it open with my Swiss army knife. haah. The food was REALLY great for the first week or so-- lots of rice, spicy soups, chicken, and such-- but then I moved into my room in the hostel and am now in charge of cooking my own meals. Eventually I'll learn recipes and cook with my floormates (hopefully this week) but for now I'm surviving on mangoes and fresh bread and vanilla crackers and oranges. Nutritious. For now I visit the Night Market or Bush Canteen for food, which are two market places on campus. 

4. when holding hands is acceptable

The program I'm with has run us through several days of orientation, and on top of that, 8 or 9 Ghanaian students have dedicated their semesters to, well, being our friends and hanging out with us. We've had a lot of bonding time and have gotten into some interesting conversations! The guys here are a lot more friendly initially than the girls, but the girls warm up too after a while. Everyone is very sincere.. I have warmed up to the humor and culture pretty well.

One thing I find funny, compared to American culture, is how Ghanaians handle relationships. Several of my guy friends here have held my hand or my friends' hands, especially when crossing the street. They'll also put their arm around me, or any girl, randomly. Partly it's the man's role here to protect, and from what I gather, it's also a sort of male-dominance cultural thing. Regardless, it is normal interaction between friends here, no matter if one is a foreigner or not. Once a couple decides to date or court, however, the hand-holding and touchy-feely stops. Ghana pretty much has a no public display of affection policy! It is VERY rare to see a boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife show affection in public. So if you see people holding hands, you can almost bet your money they're just friends. 

5. it's said "chree" not "twee" 

I've started learning a little bit of Twi, the largest spoken language in Ghana. Most everyone speaks it, and also speaks a variation called Pigeon that mixes Twi and English. In Twi, I know how to say "thank you" and "I would like to buy…" and "water" and "thank you." I also know how to ask for a price reduction when bargaining. "Te so kakra": reduce it a little. Everyone knows English, but people cut you more of a deal if you throw in a little Twi.

So really, I'm set if all I need is water at a reduced price. Thank you.

6. baby there are sharks in the water

The water. I brush my teeth with it and shower in it, but that's about it. No one here drinks it, because the piping system isn't all that great and can carry typhoid, cholera, et cetera. 

So, everyone drinks water in a bag or a bottle. The bottle is more expensive, so I bought a pack of 20 or 30 water bags for 1.5 cedi. That's less than a dollar! Water is so cheap here. If you went to my elementary school, and you're reading this, you'll know what I'm talking about when I say the bagged water is exactly like the bagged milk we used to get in the lunch line. cough Chad and Rich cough.

7. i sit under trees, look at the stars, and smoke weed

Okay, I don't really. But this was one girl's, my neighbor Rachel's, first impression of me. She said I'm really chill and outdoorsy so she thought I was one of those kids who got stoned while chillin out under the stars around a campfire. Not too far off, Rachel, except for the fact that I'm still a sheltered soul and haven't smoked the stuff… BHAHA it's probably the greatest first impression story I've ever gotten.

8. the dancing here

We went out, and I tried to learn how to dance like a Ghanaian. I failed. They dance to Azuntu music, and reggae. How do you dance to reggae? Exactly.

Don't worry though, I'm not leaving without a fight. I'll learn, master, and bring my skill back to Amurrica.

9. when the internet isn't all that global

You might have noticed the lapse in blog posts, and if you're really observant, the lack of action-- or sporadic action-- on my Facebook profile. That's because I don't have internet in my hostel unless I want to pay for it, and the nearest free wifi is a 25 minute walk away. My mom just called my international phone wondering if I was alive because she hasn't heard from me in a few days. Sorry, madre, for the scare. I'm alive and well.

10. the Hama Tan, or why the sky is grey

I haven't seen blue sky since arriving here seven days ago. This is because Ghana is in the Hama Tan season, when European winter winds blow across the Sahara Desert and carry all the sand into the atmosphere. All of West Africa is covered right now! The sky looks cloudy all the time, visibility is poor, and dust covers everything. When it clears it'll get REALLY hot; March will be the hottest month, and then it will begin to "cool off" as I prepare to return to the states.

11. this campus needs a PRT

Sidenote to Chad and Rich again: I'm not kidding you, this campus is bigger than WVU's campus. Well, maybs, if you could cram the downtown campus and main all together. Anyhow, take note, broskis. I'm getting a taste of what you dealt with in Morgantown and I have mad respect for you. Ghana needs a PRT.

It takes 30 to 40 minutes to walk from one side of campus to the other. There is a shuttle, but it costs money and I don't know how to use it yet or how often it runs. I'm sure that will soon change. Regardless, that is neither here nor there. Campus. is. huge. It's like its own city. It's weird to go to a school with at least 20 or 30 football (soccer) fields (or dirt patches) around campus, and street vendors, and marketplaces, and cotton trees. Yep, cotton TREES.

12. i promise i'll end soon but first i wanna talk about CHURCH

There are so many churches here. And I thought South Africa was religious.. Ghana wins, hands down. The whole city shuts down on Sundays. Taxi cabs don't run as much, stores are closed, campus closes. The kids doing homestays went to church with their host families, if they felt comfortable. Our program director told us that people here find it mind boggling when someone doesn't go to church. They're becoming more welcoming of Islam and of course the traditional African religions. There's a very small Jewish community here. Anyhow I'm excited to start going and compare Ghanaian church worship styles with the ones I'm familiar with in the US. And I'm preparing myself for lots of drumming.

13. the only time i like snails

Snail mail is the best. Several of you asked for my address so if you've decided you really wanna send something, send me an email/Facebook and I'll give it to youuuu

14. Nets-4-Nets

That's the only  organization I know about that gives out mosquito nets, but now that I sleep under one I realize just how important they are in the prevention of malaria. It's really fun to sleep under a mosquito net, in case you were wondering. Add it to your bucket list.

mental pictures of everything

some days have proven themselves better than others, but certain moments of every day go by unnoticed. today we spent the majority of time working with the organization we've all come to love dearly, sisters4sisters. shortly after, our team of 11 embarked upon a hike at dusk, facilitated by a full moon and the light of my headlamp. ryan and i hiked it last year, so we knew that the hike was strenuous. i think we failed to communicate that to our team as well as we should have, however. oops. a couple of them really hated us for a while until they got to the top and saw the beauty for themselves. it's an unbelievably fast ascent-- 2195 feet in no time.

lion's head is worth it though. it's part of table mountain national park, so the experience is one of a kind and the view atop takes your breath away, even if you're not a nature person at heart. if you ever go, make sure to take food. food makes everything better. at the top, i ate the pesto sandwich i had patiently, and somewhat painstakingly, saved for that very moment. also, random, but... i also partook of a bite of hamburger from a very nice lady. yep that's right, da burger. (some lady brought burgers and wine to the top for a picnic. i would be scared to drink wine and then go down a mountain like that. i would die, this i know for sure.)

all i could think as the sun set over the vast ocean was how creative god is. we think WE are creative? where do we think we get it from, that's my question to the world. it emanates from the Creator. this is just a drop in the bucket of the works he's created. tonight, god brought me and 10 of my dearest friends to that very place, to see that very specific sun set at that very specific moment. it made my head spin thinking about other moments like these that i've let slip by, unnoticed. no more. i'm gonna notice everything. watch out, world.

the colors faded in and out, from rich, dark blue to golden yellow with a neutral grey situated in between either extreme-- just like i learned in art class, by painting the color scales. nature is the best artistry out there. and the moon-- oh! so bright. we've been able to see it by day and by night the whole time we've been here in south africa, but tonight it was full and uninhibited, graciously hanging in the expansive chromatic display of a sky.

but the most important mental picture i didn't take until we got home. i showered and went outside in the backyard to journal and let my hair dry in the breeze. as i wrote the word "january" at the top of the page, i began laughing. knowing the january i've known for 21 years, complete with snow and ice and cancelled school days, it clicked that i'm in for an experience like never before in these next few months... in more ways than just this one.

i sit in a chair

full moon and starlit sky

the moon so full it drowns out the stars nearest it,

kind of like it steals all their light as fuel

it harnesses their energy that way

the stars though, they shine on

strong as ever

their formation unfamiliar to me,

but their language still the same

the wind, it blows

not one direction--but all

it whips around my person,

blows my hair and pierces my soul

blows the cuffs of my pants against my feet and my ankles

blows through all fabrics and kisses my skin

i hear it rustling, through the gaps and openings in my earbuds

earbuds that pump The First Days of Spring

just like it is the first time

ever

i can't explain why i'm here, why i'm me and why i was born to parents who love me and care for me and work to give me this sort of opportunity. should i feel guilty? satisfied? undeserving? thankful? motivated? i can't explain any of this, and i can neither explain why my parents and my brothers and friends and the people i met today and yesterday and the day before yesterday cannot experience this very moment. why am i the only one out here in this chair, looking at the moon perfectly situated in the night sky surrounded by stars and wind and natural glory? for some reason, inexplicably so, this mental picture is orchestrated and enjoyed by myself. myself alone. (unless you find it just as beautiful as i do, now that it's out on the interwebs.) 

i'm sure many around the world are gazing at the moon's beauty right now this very second, and perhaps some of them are thinking about it as introspectively as i. ...probably not as introspectively. that's a long shot. meh, you never never know.

regardless, for the moment, i'm content with being overwhelmed by god's love for me: how he gave me breath and painted the skies and numbered the stars and the grains of sand and the number of hairs on my sunburned head. i can't explain, but something within me declares thank you. i love you too.

i sit back, revel, soak, and enjoy alone. the sounds of Noah and the Whale continue, this time a new take on the old favorite "I Have Nothing":

so walk with me
on this new spring morning
i'll walk you till your fears are none
i'm a new baby weeping
i'm the flower you're keeping
that without love will wilt and die

and one last thing-- i'm not really using a camera right now, and i'm not taking pictures at work sites to protect privacy. but if you want to follow scenic adventures, check out http://inkstagram.com/#/users/3033772/photos. that's the best i can do.

and one more thing-- mom, i know you're reading this. hi madre, i love you and i promise i'll send you a large email full with love soon! 

ramblings from a scattered brain in cape town

i have a few minutes to myself tonight and a bar of dark chocolate at hand, so i thought i'd update the interwebz on my life. it's in no way cohesive or conclusive, i assure you.


we've been doing amazing sightseeing stuff mainly since arriving here. that's because south africa takes the holiday srrsly and basically stops functioning from middle of january till 1st/2nd week of january. (which means that a lot of the organizations we're meeting with aren't open till tomorrowish aka HI, free time for educational non-service-related ventures!) i've gotten tan already, except we've probably had too much sun because one of the group members is currently in bed with sun poisoning. ...we went to the beach yesterday for new years day and i don't know if she wore sunscreen. oops. but i swam on the africa side of the atlantic yesterday and OMG IT WAS SO COLD! but so worth it. i always swim in the ocean wherever i go. just putting your feet in isn't good enough. it's diving in that matters. i couldn't stop smiling.


correction-- i stopped smiling once i remembered seeing an article in saturday's paper with an article about shark attacks on the front page. remembering that great whites frequent the waters off the cape coast turned that smile into a gasp rather fast.


there's so much to cover, idk how i could accurately tell you what we've been doing. we've gone to the top of mountains and toured Robben Island, where Mandela was imprisoned. we've been to townships which are the equivalent of slums for south africa i guess. they started in apartheid and haven't changed in the 17 years since it ended. which is a whole other issue in itself. and we have had the privilege of spending hours with people who lived through apartheid, mainly black people or mixed people (south africa historically classifies itself racially as white, black, colored, etc. and in this case colored means mixed.) we learned basic xhosa phrases, xhosa being the largely spoken dialect in this province. "molo" means hi. i would say "molo bhuti" to a boy, you would say "molo sisi" to me. "kunjabi" means how are you. stuff like that.
oh, and i've started eating substantial quantities of meat, this time WITHOUT the four hour long stomach ache. i ate ham the other day actually, which made me quite proud of my progress. i'm realizing i like meat more than i thought but i'm still excited to give it up again when i get back, because i just love being a vegetarian. so much healthier and humane and environmentally sustainable. and cheaper. the guy i marry should be grateful for my eating habits, cause they're cheaper. bam.


i think the two biggest things running through my mind are 1) how recent apartheid was and therefore how recently it ended. it's not exactly like that in america because it's been around 150 years.. although current and institutionalized injustices in america still blow my mind. anyhow, people i meet here lived through apartheid (!!), and that's not the case for america in its present day state. 17 years ago was in my lifetime. and that just blows my mind. i interact with people everyday who used to or probably still do see the white as the oppressor, or with people who used to be seen as the oppressors themselves. for the former, they have experienced this oppression or torture or injustice or mistreatment or discrimination firsthand-- more than just through history books or family stories. sometimes in the places we go my group of mostly white people is the minority, and getting used to the fact that people may see me as evil or oppressive is hard. not because they're in the wrong, because they're allowed that. but because that's just painful for me to imagine being in their position. the stuff people have been through...
2) but then there's also indescribable joy. i think one thing i am realizing is that there is that human component to anything and everything and it cannot be smothered or vanquished or belittled. in every policy, behind every rule, in every family, in every situation, there's humanity. without recognizing this, good things go bad. great ideas go sour. i'm reminded that smiles and eye contact matter. just being in some of these peoples' presence is transformative. some of this just can't be taught in a class or presented through a documentary. i'm grateful to be in college right now and to have this opportunity and others like it to travel and seek to understand at least a little something about how the world works.


tomorrow starts our real "service learning" component of the trip. we're working on a cultural exchange venture with some middle school aged girls, and i cannot wait. i know and love dearly the director of the organization, a woman named eunice. i went over to her house for tea today and i'm pretty sure i coulda stayed there forever. just being in her presence makes me feel more whole. we have meetings all through the week and then start working with a new organization in a few days. i'm prepared for lots of dancing, lots of smiling, lots of questioning and sharing and learning.


it's weird not being in the everyday lives of the people i love most from back in amurrica. i feel bad, like i'm doing something wrong by abandoning them. i feel awfully selfish, but at the same time i know this is an adventure i need to go on. i know god has prepared the way for me to walk, and i know not walking in it would be a sin. so really, all is well.
i do, however, feel like a fifth grade girl saying this: i think the thing i miss most at the moment is not having the capability to text my friends. that disconnect is strange. but at the same time it's wildly liberating! so overall, i love it. i am excited, however, to rid myself of the burden called alternative break leadership (although it IS a wonderful role, i promise) and strike out on my own. in ghana. i'm excited for time to write you all and read the books i want to read. currently i'm reading ellen degeneres's latest book, and it makes me chortle pretty much every stinking page. people leave the room when i start reading it because i distract them too much with my laughter.


i pray you blessings over your New Year. 2012. crazy life right there. when did it become 2012. i remember it like just yesterday when it was y2k; people stocked up on water and food and camped out in their basements, prepared for the worst like there was some atomic bomb. i challenge you to do the opposite. stop preparing and just DO already, you know? don't make goals for yourself, make challenges.