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PC Adventure

Name:
Location: formerly Indianapolis, IN, Central Region, Ghana

INFP, prone to fits of outrageous behavior and supporter of same

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Good morning to all from sunny, hot-hot Accra,

I'm feeling a bit guilty for not writing for so many weeks, but I've been in a centrifuge of activity for an entire month and most of that time focused on health--mental, dental or physical. So, here is a quick update and a stab at loving the ambiguity and fits and starts that defines this Peace Corps life.

I am in Accra for medical/dental reasons and don't worry because I am basically well, although I'm frustrated with all that is Peace Corps and all that is Ghana--bureaucratic slowness, the absence of personal transportation, foreign illnesses, different cultural values, the emphasis on "togetherness," weird food, you name it--I'm grumpy. All that, plus I have been sick. Absolutely, without a doubt, I know that if I don't feel OK, then nothing is OK. Nothing has been OK.

My last entry introduced the noise drama-trauma in sleepy Abrafo. The noise has not changed, but my residence has changed. I moved out of A19 and back into the Pedu house. You may recall that I desperately wanted to leave the Pedu house for the Abrafo house. Definitely not OK! I now live 30 kilometers from where I work, which means some sort of transportation challenge every day. (I'll leave that for another day!)

Thus far, I have only moved a few things--clothes, toiletries, etc. I most definitely moved Wyoming (now there's an unforgettable notion--where?). During the 30-minute tro-tro ride she puked, pooped and peed into her transport box. At least I found out that she needed to be wormed (but every thing here needs to be wormed!). At Pedu, my housemate Joel cannot pronounce Wyoming. It sounds like, "Yoni." We're quite a pair--Sister Dizzy and Yoni. But I digress, back to the noise problem that ultimately chased me out of A19 in Abrafo. Wellllll, it was too much to live with and it did not go away for a month--day in, day out--blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.... Mudville was not happy and I'm smart enough to recognize when my sanity is at stake, so I moved back into the Pedu house for the third time. The NGO boys are on the problem (wasn't 40 years the biblical measure?). Incidentally, Abrafo is getting a new chief and the "enstollment" is scheduled for May 1-5th. I received an official invitation and my neighbors insist that I wear something Ghanaian (more on this later too).

No sooner had I moved back to Pedu than I had a toothache, which meant a trip into Accra and the Nigerian dentist. He sorta looked at my mouth, but since it was the Thursday before Good Friday and the fella was leaving for the UK the following day, he suggested I return when the pain was "keeping me awake at night." I left his office in mild discomfort with another appointment in two weeks and antibiotics and pain killers (codeine). I'm a big fan of modern medicine and legal drugs. After the codeine, NO PAIN. So, off I tottered back to Cape Coast and the Pedu house.

Two PCV pals, Urji and Mary Jayne, came to visit Easter weekend. Of course, we couldn't stay in Abrafo, so we piled into my room in the Pedu house, which was like hosting houseguests in your hotel room. Hey, we're Peace Corps, so we made the best of it. Despite the lodging, we enjoyed a giggly, busy weekend. We visited Elmina's castle, the local Cape Coast destinations, and Kakum National Park. The best fun was cooking for them. We dined on fresh fish, loads of veggies and the sweetest pineapples you can imagine dipped in melted chocolate. Thanks to K. Shrum we even had Easter chocolates--yippee!! Great fun, especially singing with Mary Jayne, thanks to her parents, we know many of the same songs. Again, all that with NO PAIN.

Let me add a note about chocolate. Chocolate from the US is such a treat here. Even though most of the world's chocolate is made from cocoa that is produced in Ghana, their locally produced chocolate is bland and waxy--not worth eating in my opinion. I'll leave the international cocoa market, or why Ghanaian farmers get screwed for another day.

The day after Easter, the three little PCVs traveled to a beach resort near Accra for our business-sector in-service training. The "resort" is really an educational/cultural center and the African-American proprietor, Renee, is part visionary, artist and historian, plus, a great chef. The atmosphere was healing and the food was sublime--curried chicken, pesto, cheeseburgers, french toast--big yum! Besides meetings and eating, we played pictionary, charades, volleyball and ping pong, then we would sing any song that anyone could remember, even hymns (the old rugged cross is buried deep in my brain??). I gave a workshop on listening skills and appreciative inquiry, which asks, "what's right" about an organization rather than, "what's wrong" (cool research on this topic if anyone is interested). Just a nice week by the ocean and by Saturday morning, still NO PAIN.

Then, while trying to leave the resort for Cape Coast, just last Saturday, I started heating up. I mean, as in FEVER heating up. My pals had enough sense to direct me toward the Peace Corps Accra medical office. Actually, there was a prelude by three other PCVs earlier in the week and I had "nursed" one of the sickies. I limped into Accra and my fever soared to 104 degrees. Even with malaria my temp wasn't that high. Our PC nurse looked me over and ordered, "rest, fluids, and a phone call if anything changes in four hours." I crawled into the PC medical unit "sick room" with all my clothes on and besides going to the toilet, I stayed there in the same clothes for 24 hours. I wasn't delusional, but I was physically disorganized--my legs, feet and arms did not respond well to instructions. I must have looked like a day-old calf; I drunkenly bounced from surface to surface when I tried to walk. Sometime during the night, I had to crawl to get back to bed--perfect misery. I was beyond gratitude when the fever left and I was exuberant when on the third day I felt "pretty good." Diagnosis? Flu? Food poisoning? Not certain, but still NO PAIN.

Today, I had that #*%%$ root canal from the dancing Nigerian dentist (oh, I miss you Jennifer Taube). Tomorrow, I'll return to the Pedu house and I'm hoping, yes, by now you have guessed, that I'll be traveling with NO PAIN.

See, how a month can pass? Blink, blink!! What did I do? Darn, if the answer isn't simple, I did my best despite countless obstacles and blunders (mostly mine). Since, I'm still trying to define my work here, spending so much time on health and logistic issues feels frustrating. I'm trying to be patient and centered. I hope that the move into a quieter, more peaceful home will help with the soul work. Regardless, I know: to trust the breath, trust the feet, trust the friends, eat well, sleep well, exercise, balance people and alone time, learn something everyday, give something everyday and remember to smile at the moon...that should be enough, no? (Did I mention that my Spanish has improved here??). So, how was your month?

Of course, "NO PAIN" is illusionary. Everyday, I try to hold that which is nearly unbearable--the distance from the beloved.


Thank you, thank you to all the faithful writers and for all treats sent. My life is sweeter thanks to ya'all.

As always, healing thoughts to Jen, Lynsey, Carole...everyone!!

Also, birthday greetings, sorry some belated, to Becky L., darling "little" brother Mark, Jeanette, Larry Peavler, Deb Bussard...

Special greetings to the falconheads! I miss our time together. Kudos to Laura, the blog is great. Big hug to Richard!!


More soon...love to all...xoxox...d