so much to say!

Hello! I wrote a blog post a few weeks ago, but the lights went out so my work was erased. Hopefully the electricty will stay on long enough for me to finish this post.

We swore in to the Peace Corps on August 13. I was a part of the African dancing troupe who performed at the ceremony. That was interesting. ha. Basically the ceremony seemed to be focused on our host families being able to witness us making fools of ourselves, whether during the dance ceremony, due to our somewhat gaudy, elaborate attire, or during our language presentations. They loved it, though, and I actually had a good time. I usually shy away from fan fare like that, but in Ghana, the more elaborate and what would appear over the top to us (facial expressions, clothing, etc) is all the more welcomed and praised. So I just roll with it and have a good time.

The morning after the swearing in ceremony was one of the most stressful of my entire life. Two of my homestay brothers traveled down to the town I was staying in to meet me. I think my homestay mom maybe didn't just say meet me, but perhaps, come see if you want this person to be your wife. It was pretty intense. I had gone to bed late the night before since all of the PCVs went out to celebrate. I had to wake up early and figure out a way to shove all of my stuff into a bag, say goodbyes, take pictures (I always wait to the last minute), and go see the seamstress to pick up my dress that she should have had done a week ago. So I am shoving everything into this huge bag and the zipper breaks while at the same time that I am attempting to dry out my water filter and my homestay mom is getting quite angry at me because she thinks that she is supposed to keep the water filter and does not want the PC to accuse her of stealing. So then she sews my zipper and runs all over town asking all of the other PCVs whether I am telling the truth about how I do need to take the water filter. Then my youngest homestay brother (about 27) is trying to get me to sit down (I am running late like usual!) and have a serious conversation with him about why I will not respond to his comment about how he wants to see me again and what am I going to do about it. I really don't know what to do about any of this, least of all his demands, so I tell him I have to pack and walk out. I am packed and on time, but then the seamstress is still sewing my dress as I go to her house. Ah! I go to the taxi station to wait with the other PCVs and try to locate my host mom to say goodbye. She is still on her crazy mission to verify the truth about the stupid water filter. Finally she comes, but then my dress is still not done so she runs to pick it up. Finally, I can leave. Given the oddities in my homestay family and the interesting experiences I had with them, I really did have a good time. It was quite entertaining and they did the best they could to accomodate me. As I was leaving my host mom ran to the house once more and handed me 10 oranges before I left. Then I saw that as she turned away she was beginning to cry. She told me once before (she imparted to me many interesting tidbits of knowledge...not necessarily wisdom) that people do not need friends. She said that she is happy with her life of just her children and her husband (though she also told me we should run away from him together?!) and that friends will bring you down. Having said that, I think that she enjoyed having someone else to talk to, perhaps a friend, even.

So fast forward...I have been at my site, Tutukpene, (Google map it!) for almost two weeks now. Right now I am in my market town, Nkwanta, to buy a gas stove and meet with other PCVS tomorrow. This is also where I do my banking. Even when I am in Nkwanta, I miss the people in T.P. I have an entourage of 12- year old small boys (term used to describe boys under the age of like 16 who generally fetch things for you and do chores if need be by bribing them with some candy) who come to my house about 4 times a day. They help me fetch water, cook, etc. They also just sit on my porch alot and sing African pop songs, bust some dance moves, are learning to knit, etc. I enjoy their company and we just have a good time together. Hanging out with them reminds me of hanging with my cousin Steven. Though, with Steven, there is more license to get into mischief, and I miss that. Keep up your crazy ways boy!

For the first three months, the PC does not want volunteers embarking on extensive projects. The purpose of the first three months at site is to become integrated within the community and understand what the needs of the community are and how to address those needs. The literature in the PC is very strengths-based, which is a social work term for looking at what is going right in the community as opposed to what is going wrong. The philosophy is that there are always things going right and the way to make more things go right, or improve the community, is to build on these strengths. To be able to identify the strengths, I need to spend time in the community and with community members conducting censuses (censi?...my English is so poor!I need a dictionary to read for fun. ) I will also travel to some of the satellite communities in which I will be working every so often this week. At this stage, it is all about community assessments.

Since I have only been at site for two weeks, I have just been working on getting to know people. Last night, I went with one of my friends to watch a football match on TV. In T.P., we do not have electricity, except for one store and one bar. The bar has a satellite so when there is a football or boxing match, you can pay 50 cents to watch it. In terms of entertainment, there are funerals, church, playing boards games, playing football, watching me try to cook over a coal pot (pretty much a disaster). There is going to be a huge funeral this next weekend and people in the town are already asking if I am getting ready to dance, due to the last funeral weekend when I cut a rug. Funerals are crazy, at least when the sun goes down! There are strobe lights, a huge sound system, a million rug rats mosh pitting and gyrating like I have never seen, and the party doesn't stop until the wee hours of the morning. I am not exactly sure why funerals are like...death is seen differently all over the world and experienced differently. I do know that death happens so frequently and seemingly without a reason. Everytime you ask why someone has died, the answer is simply that he or she fell sick. So much for our obsession with autopsies.

I have had quite a bit of free time, as is common in the PC. Thus far, I have knit a headband, a coin purse, a potholder. The small boys want to learn to knit. One thing that would be a great present would be some cheap knitting needles and yarn so that I could actually start a club. :D I have also read about three books in the last two weeks. I highly recommend When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris. It makes my life of going to the bathroom down a hole in the ground with cockroaches seem not so strange after all. (Hint, hint...Michael, hurry up and send me your Sedaris book. I need some comic relief!)

I'll write some more posts in the following weeks about stuff some of you are interested in...women's roles, economics in Ghana, sociopolitical stuff. Living in a developing country again is so eye opening. I won't deny that it is hard and frustrating (waiting for 3 hours at the bank to do a simple transaction), but the people are so down to earth and welcoming. I think, as in most places where the living conditions are not favorable, it is the people that make it worth it.

tata!
Linds