Moon House and more....
Past the mistletoe, past the flying champagne corks, past an epiphany, past the Muslim New Year (1428), past the damn groundhog: past it all!
Once again, whole months are missing. How does this happen??
I was keeping company with a slippery little funk, but now I’m better. I think it was just everything and then Christmas thrown-in as a special topping. I can’t really account for the two months; however, I know that I spent Christmas close to the hospitals in Accra. My recent urinary tract infections (UTIs) transformed into an ugly kidney infection that was leaning toward sepsis. It became serious enough that I was having trouble breathing two days before Christmas (don’t worry, it was referred pain). I was lucid enough not notice my breathing difficulties-ohhh my gawdddd???? So instead of going off to explore an interesting part of Ghana for the holidays, I saw the interesting parts of Ghana’s medical system. I’m still scared stupid and I hope I don’t ever have any real medical issues here.
After the breathing difficulties appeared, then not long after calling the PC nurse and seeing the PC doctor, I got drugs. Then, lots of tests, a week of shuffling from place to place, lots of pricks and prods, I was finally announced, “healthy.” Of course there are endless layers to this tale. First, they suspected my gallbladder. Then it was a kidney cyst, which could be cancer?? Near the end they were convinced it was my heart because they had written my birth year 20 years before I was born-1936 instead of 1956. So, the cardiologist, who was interpreting my results, looked me up and down and remarked several times about my “good shape”!! I didn’t realize the error until later and then I rolled on the floor laughing (you’re damn right, I look good for 70!!!).
Ultimately, the infection diagnosis became a quorum and copious amounts of antibiotics solved the problem. The UTIs that started the drama are part and parcel of the traveling in Ghana because it’s inconvenient to stop the tro-tros to go urinate (of course they will stop, but tottering off into the bush isn’t always easy or even available-ugh, this is one of the most irritating and troubling aspects of traveling here and all the female PCVs have travel/toilet stories). So, every week at least once, if not more often, I either dehydrate or hold my urine to travel the 35-40 minutes into Cape Coast. In hindsight, I think the UTI that I had back in November never really resolved, but who knows. Ok, there’s my long-winded tale about my health-ugh!!! (Or, was I just really pissed!?)
I arrived back in Abrafo on the 31st of December after my pals, Urji and Sarah, had pampered me in Accra during the holiday medical extravaganza. Once home, I cleaned the house from top to bottom (I’m slightly superstitious about having a clean house on January 1). Then, I went to church a little before 11 p.m. and listened to the great drumming and singing before retiring and sleeping soundly into 2007. Incidentally, the locals go to church on New Year’s Eve, they do not go out anywhere else--no bars, no dancing, no champagne, no nothing-cold turkey New Year’s. Anyway, the revelry is in the pews and lest you think this isn’t serious, let me mention that they start the evening around 7 p.m. I thought they were kidding when they said 7. By the way, Sunday’s are only slightly less intense; say 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. I need gallons of Gatorade just to attend church here.
Did I mention that Christmas in the tropics is just wrong? I miss snow!! I miss “real” Christmas music-ol’ blue eyes, Burl Ives and Ray Coniff. I miss baking, gawd, how I miss baking. I miss all those great Christmas foods (while reminiscing I could faint on this cascade of dopamine). I miss the Christmas Birdcount, but most of all; I miss my friends and family.
Oh, by the way, now that I mentioned birds, then I must add that they figure into one of my New Year’s resolutions-identify more birds, no matter what!! Otherwise, I have all the usual resolutions-be kinder, be most generous, eat more fiber, be more compassionate, read a book a week--be, be, be, do, do, do….
Valentine’s Day?? (Lynsey, I did not forget your b’day!!!! I’ve thought of you more than I really want to admit….) I spent it at home with the kids, Adom and Wisdom, both of whom are trials in their own little canine ways. I’ve put some new pixs up, so be sure and check: http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/dxebird7/my_photos. Wisdom makes me laugh everyday-he lies around like a dead dog, he eats everything, he’s part male teenager and part old man-farting, itching, scratching and then dragging in dead, stinky things. My dogs are unusual for here--they bark-like me they wanna talk about everything. Adom has a high-pitched wailing squeal and Wisdom howls-they’re quite the duet. I can see my neighbors clucking their tongues and shaking their heads in disapproval. Dogs are type cast here in Ghana-either they’re dinner, or they’re working animals, which means that they are taken to the farm and put to use, for amongst many things, “ratting.” They certainly aren’t pets in the American sense and most of the dogs look sick, infested and/or injured. A vibrant healthy dog is an anomaly here. Yup, my dogs look really healthy and I feel especially protective when someone is complimenting the dogs. Do they see dinner on four legs?
Speaking of rats, last week someone asked me if it was true that “Americans just kill and throw away rats?” Gulp, er, well. While scuffing my shoes into the dirt, I finally answered, “yes.” To my village, that’s an unimaginable waste. Since arriving in Ghana, I’ve increased my life-list of gustatory animals. Here, I’ve added rat, snake, sheep’s head (I thought it was brains, but not sure??) and grasscutter, which is a rabbit-sized rodent. I resist all dinner invitations for cat, dog or songbirds. Local children make sport of killing birds with slingshots (they are really, really good) and I’ve made a corresponding sport of bringing the stunned birds back to life. Especially the littlest children seem to know that killing is wrong and they bring these little lifeless forms, cupped gently in their little brown hands. Sometimes it works, after holding and breathing into the bird’s beak, it will revive and I can let it fly away…. I’ll take any success here….
Hmmm, what else??
Happy days, yippee!!! I finally moved into the cool house up on the hill, although I still don’t have electricity, which is another story altogether. I waffled on this move, but two weeks ago while walking with one of the young, adorable teachers from the private school, he told me that the house was called, “moon house.” Well, that cinched it, period!! I must live there, or anywhere named Moon House. So, I’ve changed the locks, cleaned out the place and rearranged some of the furniture. I’m still unpacking and trying to stuff the 4 rooms of accumulation into 2 rooms. Despite the organizational challenges, I’ll happily report that for the first time while living in Abrafo, my morning alarm is consistently birdsong. I’m so cheerful…. Even the dogs like moon house much better. They romp, they roam, there’s a yard…. But my cat is another story, he has returned to the old haunt twice. I won’t move him again, he has voted with his paws and the women from the house of beautiful women promise to feed him.
I’m hoping for electricity in the next two weeks, but who knows. I may need to pay more bribes; of course they call it something else. For the time being the NGO house, where I lived before, has all my necessary electrical gadgets-computer, camera charger, rechargeable light and iron (yes, I iron my clothes here, which is another long story, but suffice to say here, a woman of any substance doesn’t not go about unpressed here). Which also means that moon house doesn’t have working ceiling fans, although they’re there. A couple times this past week, I’ve returned to the NGO house just to sit under the fan. Currently we’re having hot weather (ha!!). Even the Ghanaians say it’s hot, which means that the rains haven’t returned yet. I think that happens in March, regardless, the rains bring cooler temps, although I’d hardly notice since the humidity also seems to rise. This week someone broke both my outside thermometer and my rain gauge-death by a thousand needle pricks….
So even without electricity, I really need to have some peace in this village before leaving. There’s much to like about here-er, that really means that there are many people to like here in Abrafo, especially the students. Last Friday, the day after I moved, my public school students came to the house and worked. This is quite common here; regularly students fetch water, haul trash, or do little odd jobs for their teachers. I should note that in many small villages the teachers are at the top of the status food chain, since most have at least completed Senior Secondary School, if not gone to a teacher’s training school (thing US about 30-40 years ago-didn’t teacher’s have more respect??). So, the students came over and they cut the grass (with their machetes), they burnt the trash (yes, everyone burns everything here, esp. plastic and rubber-yummm) and, they fetched some water for me (yes, buckets on the head).
Of course I loved having all that work done, but what was most magical was seeing the kids outside the school environment-seeing them play. I got to observe some of the quietest students playing, or joking around and others just being curious or freer than I’d ever see them in the classroom. It was a day I’ll never forget.
Next week the first 80 bikes are scheduled to arrive, finally. This has been a challenging project for so many reasons. After starting on this project, I heard from several other PCVs about the delays, frustrations, etc. I know once everyone has their bike I’ll feel happy, but in the meantime communication failures plague this project…. I’m just praying that we don’t have another postponement.
Ok, that’s enough of a ramble, next time I’ll write more about moon house. I haven’t written here for so long, this all seems so lame. Please know that I think of everyone. Not a day passes. I’m homesick for real friends…and I know the difference.
Belated b’days to all the great January gals, Sarah S., Sharon L., Vicki Perry, darling little sister Amy, my mountain friend Shari S. Then Lynsey and soon Paula R., and my other sweet sister Lorri, Martha (the Ides blow calm for you) and Shelby S. Sorry, if I’ve forgotten anyone.
Healing to for anyone who needs it-Jen, Shari’s Mom, Carole’s Dad, my cousins Diane and Melanie….
Many thanks for recent holidays and care packages-not a day passes that I’m not grateful for all the love, it really makes a difference. Also, please forgive me for not writing for awhile, I just got behind in my correspondence and now that I’ve moved, I hope to resume with vigor.
Sweet wishes to you all…
D
Past the mistletoe, past the flying champagne corks, past an epiphany, past the Muslim New Year (1428), past the damn groundhog: past it all!
Once again, whole months are missing. How does this happen??
I was keeping company with a slippery little funk, but now I’m better. I think it was just everything and then Christmas thrown-in as a special topping. I can’t really account for the two months; however, I know that I spent Christmas close to the hospitals in Accra. My recent urinary tract infections (UTIs) transformed into an ugly kidney infection that was leaning toward sepsis. It became serious enough that I was having trouble breathing two days before Christmas (don’t worry, it was referred pain). I was lucid enough not notice my breathing difficulties-ohhh my gawdddd???? So instead of going off to explore an interesting part of Ghana for the holidays, I saw the interesting parts of Ghana’s medical system. I’m still scared stupid and I hope I don’t ever have any real medical issues here.
After the breathing difficulties appeared, then not long after calling the PC nurse and seeing the PC doctor, I got drugs. Then, lots of tests, a week of shuffling from place to place, lots of pricks and prods, I was finally announced, “healthy.” Of course there are endless layers to this tale. First, they suspected my gallbladder. Then it was a kidney cyst, which could be cancer?? Near the end they were convinced it was my heart because they had written my birth year 20 years before I was born-1936 instead of 1956. So, the cardiologist, who was interpreting my results, looked me up and down and remarked several times about my “good shape”!! I didn’t realize the error until later and then I rolled on the floor laughing (you’re damn right, I look good for 70!!!).
Ultimately, the infection diagnosis became a quorum and copious amounts of antibiotics solved the problem. The UTIs that started the drama are part and parcel of the traveling in Ghana because it’s inconvenient to stop the tro-tros to go urinate (of course they will stop, but tottering off into the bush isn’t always easy or even available-ugh, this is one of the most irritating and troubling aspects of traveling here and all the female PCVs have travel/toilet stories). So, every week at least once, if not more often, I either dehydrate or hold my urine to travel the 35-40 minutes into Cape Coast. In hindsight, I think the UTI that I had back in November never really resolved, but who knows. Ok, there’s my long-winded tale about my health-ugh!!! (Or, was I just really pissed!?)
I arrived back in Abrafo on the 31st of December after my pals, Urji and Sarah, had pampered me in Accra during the holiday medical extravaganza. Once home, I cleaned the house from top to bottom (I’m slightly superstitious about having a clean house on January 1). Then, I went to church a little before 11 p.m. and listened to the great drumming and singing before retiring and sleeping soundly into 2007. Incidentally, the locals go to church on New Year’s Eve, they do not go out anywhere else--no bars, no dancing, no champagne, no nothing-cold turkey New Year’s. Anyway, the revelry is in the pews and lest you think this isn’t serious, let me mention that they start the evening around 7 p.m. I thought they were kidding when they said 7. By the way, Sunday’s are only slightly less intense; say 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. I need gallons of Gatorade just to attend church here.
Did I mention that Christmas in the tropics is just wrong? I miss snow!! I miss “real” Christmas music-ol’ blue eyes, Burl Ives and Ray Coniff. I miss baking, gawd, how I miss baking. I miss all those great Christmas foods (while reminiscing I could faint on this cascade of dopamine). I miss the Christmas Birdcount, but most of all; I miss my friends and family.
Oh, by the way, now that I mentioned birds, then I must add that they figure into one of my New Year’s resolutions-identify more birds, no matter what!! Otherwise, I have all the usual resolutions-be kinder, be most generous, eat more fiber, be more compassionate, read a book a week--be, be, be, do, do, do….
Valentine’s Day?? (Lynsey, I did not forget your b’day!!!! I’ve thought of you more than I really want to admit….) I spent it at home with the kids, Adom and Wisdom, both of whom are trials in their own little canine ways. I’ve put some new pixs up, so be sure and check: http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/dxebird7/my_photos. Wisdom makes me laugh everyday-he lies around like a dead dog, he eats everything, he’s part male teenager and part old man-farting, itching, scratching and then dragging in dead, stinky things. My dogs are unusual for here--they bark-like me they wanna talk about everything. Adom has a high-pitched wailing squeal and Wisdom howls-they’re quite the duet. I can see my neighbors clucking their tongues and shaking their heads in disapproval. Dogs are type cast here in Ghana-either they’re dinner, or they’re working animals, which means that they are taken to the farm and put to use, for amongst many things, “ratting.” They certainly aren’t pets in the American sense and most of the dogs look sick, infested and/or injured. A vibrant healthy dog is an anomaly here. Yup, my dogs look really healthy and I feel especially protective when someone is complimenting the dogs. Do they see dinner on four legs?
Speaking of rats, last week someone asked me if it was true that “Americans just kill and throw away rats?” Gulp, er, well. While scuffing my shoes into the dirt, I finally answered, “yes.” To my village, that’s an unimaginable waste. Since arriving in Ghana, I’ve increased my life-list of gustatory animals. Here, I’ve added rat, snake, sheep’s head (I thought it was brains, but not sure??) and grasscutter, which is a rabbit-sized rodent. I resist all dinner invitations for cat, dog or songbirds. Local children make sport of killing birds with slingshots (they are really, really good) and I’ve made a corresponding sport of bringing the stunned birds back to life. Especially the littlest children seem to know that killing is wrong and they bring these little lifeless forms, cupped gently in their little brown hands. Sometimes it works, after holding and breathing into the bird’s beak, it will revive and I can let it fly away…. I’ll take any success here….
Hmmm, what else??
Happy days, yippee!!! I finally moved into the cool house up on the hill, although I still don’t have electricity, which is another story altogether. I waffled on this move, but two weeks ago while walking with one of the young, adorable teachers from the private school, he told me that the house was called, “moon house.” Well, that cinched it, period!! I must live there, or anywhere named Moon House. So, I’ve changed the locks, cleaned out the place and rearranged some of the furniture. I’m still unpacking and trying to stuff the 4 rooms of accumulation into 2 rooms. Despite the organizational challenges, I’ll happily report that for the first time while living in Abrafo, my morning alarm is consistently birdsong. I’m so cheerful…. Even the dogs like moon house much better. They romp, they roam, there’s a yard…. But my cat is another story, he has returned to the old haunt twice. I won’t move him again, he has voted with his paws and the women from the house of beautiful women promise to feed him.
I’m hoping for electricity in the next two weeks, but who knows. I may need to pay more bribes; of course they call it something else. For the time being the NGO house, where I lived before, has all my necessary electrical gadgets-computer, camera charger, rechargeable light and iron (yes, I iron my clothes here, which is another long story, but suffice to say here, a woman of any substance doesn’t not go about unpressed here). Which also means that moon house doesn’t have working ceiling fans, although they’re there. A couple times this past week, I’ve returned to the NGO house just to sit under the fan. Currently we’re having hot weather (ha!!). Even the Ghanaians say it’s hot, which means that the rains haven’t returned yet. I think that happens in March, regardless, the rains bring cooler temps, although I’d hardly notice since the humidity also seems to rise. This week someone broke both my outside thermometer and my rain gauge-death by a thousand needle pricks….
So even without electricity, I really need to have some peace in this village before leaving. There’s much to like about here-er, that really means that there are many people to like here in Abrafo, especially the students. Last Friday, the day after I moved, my public school students came to the house and worked. This is quite common here; regularly students fetch water, haul trash, or do little odd jobs for their teachers. I should note that in many small villages the teachers are at the top of the status food chain, since most have at least completed Senior Secondary School, if not gone to a teacher’s training school (thing US about 30-40 years ago-didn’t teacher’s have more respect??). So, the students came over and they cut the grass (with their machetes), they burnt the trash (yes, everyone burns everything here, esp. plastic and rubber-yummm) and, they fetched some water for me (yes, buckets on the head).
Of course I loved having all that work done, but what was most magical was seeing the kids outside the school environment-seeing them play. I got to observe some of the quietest students playing, or joking around and others just being curious or freer than I’d ever see them in the classroom. It was a day I’ll never forget.
Next week the first 80 bikes are scheduled to arrive, finally. This has been a challenging project for so many reasons. After starting on this project, I heard from several other PCVs about the delays, frustrations, etc. I know once everyone has their bike I’ll feel happy, but in the meantime communication failures plague this project…. I’m just praying that we don’t have another postponement.
Ok, that’s enough of a ramble, next time I’ll write more about moon house. I haven’t written here for so long, this all seems so lame. Please know that I think of everyone. Not a day passes. I’m homesick for real friends…and I know the difference.
Belated b’days to all the great January gals, Sarah S., Sharon L., Vicki Perry, darling little sister Amy, my mountain friend Shari S. Then Lynsey and soon Paula R., and my other sweet sister Lorri, Martha (the Ides blow calm for you) and Shelby S. Sorry, if I’ve forgotten anyone.
Healing to for anyone who needs it-Jen, Shari’s Mom, Carole’s Dad, my cousins Diane and Melanie….
Many thanks for recent holidays and care packages-not a day passes that I’m not grateful for all the love, it really makes a difference. Also, please forgive me for not writing for awhile, I just got behind in my correspondence and now that I’ve moved, I hope to resume with vigor.
Sweet wishes to you all…
D
posted by Dixie | 9:46 AM
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