Broken promises, procrastination, good intentions, forgetfulness, amnesia, disorganization, poor planning, character flaws, biochemical imbalances, national electrical grid failures, the monsoon season, the dry season, lack of essential fatty acids, Starbucks, much slower planetary revolution/equator speed, peri-menopause, sweat exhaustion, humor deficit disorder, vibrator malfunction, ill-fitting shoes, new glasses, inadequate cleaning products, nostalgia or something has derailed me every time I’ve tried to write this blog. I started this installment five months ago, now it is June. How?? I can’t even blame the presidential election, which incidentally is surreal from here—bizarre snippets indeed. So, I can’t explain my lapses and I don’t entirely understand it, but I do know that a day doesn’t pass without thinking of there and visualizing your sweet smiles….

This time, there are all the usual topics to report, plus the trip home, the return to Ghana, and the big-big lunch with President Bush, Mrs. Bush and Condi Rice as a Peace Corps representative—that’s the preview. Read on if you’re so inclined, but know that I’m still very much here in Ghana until January 2009.

First for this tale, I must back-up to December 07. I was left speechless about my short 30 days in the U.S. Any attempt to describe that visit will only fall short (I’ll try anyway). I came, I saw and I left too soon (veni, vedi, lefty-too-soony, I wish I could remember some of that Latin). I cannot explain how that time unfolded, or how enormous amounts of love, fun and sweetness could dance around the rooms and hang from the ceiling, but it did. There’s just no way to thank everyone, but, I must thank Mary and Tammara for their hospitality and good cheer, despite some challenges (new job, electrical projects, car juggling, Schroeder). A big “gracias” goes to Esther for the loan of her truck, then Martha and Brenda for their van. Much gratitude goes to everyone who made the effort to contact me, whether in person or otherwise. A special hall of fame appointment belongs to Dino for safely delivering me to and from the colonoscopy (that is real love!). Shari, you get a million candles lit for the mountains, dangerous driving and all that snow. TT and Sarah for the money that I used to buy dictionaries for the kids, oops almost forgot Mom and Pop you pushed the amount past the “can do” point. Lynsey, a raised glass to you, for being so perfectly you and always making me smile. And finally, my taste buds thank everyone who cooked for me or had me out to breakfast, lunch or dinner. I was overwhelmed all the time by everything….

In the last blog entry, I stated unequivocally that I would be home for Christmas and I was, but I didn’t say that I’d be returning to Ghana after 30 days. For that little omission, I’ll apologize (as they say, it’s often easier to ask for forgiveness than seek approval!).

A limited number of PCVs can remain at their post for a third year, granted that all their planets are aligned—health, productivity, attitude, etc. My supervisor asked if I wanted to stay shortly before the snakebite and shortly after I shifted to the Wildlife Division at the park. Tentatively, I said, “yes,” because the first year and a half had been so miserable that I couldn’t imagine leaving here without a sense of progress or accomplishment. I felt that another year would give me the necessary time to balance the equation. So, I applied and I was granted the extension. Even though I was “approved,” I knew that once I was home I could change my mind and stay, also, I knew that being there would make the decision clear; besides, I needed to see your lovely faces…. After thirty days, returning to Ghana felt right. Almost everyone could support that decision, but it was still difficult. Now, five months later, I know it was the right decision.

Once back, I resumed teaching English to the JSS3 kids. Most days they make me laugh, but there are days when all goes to hell and I just have to walk away from the classroom. Cultural differences are impossible to tease from all the other pubescent issues. The other teachers liberally use canes and lash as they feel, but I can’t, which means my discipline is “odd”. Offenders in my class have fetched water for me, or written sentences 200 times, or they have stood with their noses in a circle on the blackboard. Forcing them to sit alone may be the most effective punishment—they hate it.

Ghanaian teenagers are generally very respectful and they are deeply motivated to learn. Education is the only road to escape from the village and the grinding physical realities of peasant-farming. The kids know it and they really try to excel. Just last week the JSS3’s took their Basic Education Exams (BEE). Here, the results dictate their future—good scores mean a good school and bad scores mean a bad school or no school at all. The government provides free primary and junior secondary education, but any further education requires funds, as well as proper admission to the school. Last year almost half of my public school kids got to move forward to the senior secondary school level, although about half of those are attending technical schools where they will learn a marketable trade, no one student from the village public school scored high enough to gain admission to one of the country’s premium schools. This year’s students will wait four months for their results—so, now we wait. As they say in the village, “they’re in the house”.

Everything at Moon house is good. The garden has been fenced, but for one reason or another the seeds haven’t grown. Now my shovel has a broken handle and the local carpenter isn’t fixing the thing (urgh!!!!). Perhaps by this weekend I’ll get seeds in the ground. The rains have returned and it is time to grow something. While on the topic of growing things, let me add a note about the plants of the rainforest. I grew up with four big seasons every year, here there’s really only two—rainy and dry. During the dry season many trees lose some of their leaves, but not all their leaves like the trees in Indiana. During the dry season, I always think that the trees look thin, there’s more sunlight getting through. However, when the rains return, the green growth is exponential and that is what is happening right now in the forest. Everything is exploding with new growth, the word, lush, doesn’t do the rainforest justice. I’m just smitten with the rainforest, even though I don’t understand it. It is overflowing with life, for instance one researcher here in the park found 43 ant species on just one tree!!!!!! Still, there are days that I pine for the known world of a North American hardwood forest, known trees, known plants, known sounds, known smells, known insects….

I’ve worked so hard to understand the cultural and the work environment that I’ve ignored the natural environment. As I mentioned sometime ago, I hardly go bird watching here, which seems odd. One of my goals for the year is simply to be out in nature every week sometime. So far, I’m doing ok. Just this evening I went for a little bird walk and found a black cuckoo behind my house (well, there’s one behind and one in….). I wish I could bring you all an ebony tree, their bark is so unusual, it is like a very wide wale corduroy and somehow soft—it is so sensual. Did I mention that many trees here have those enormous buttressed roots? The buttresses grow in a sort of swirl pattern, all that to keep the tallest trees standing. The forest trees are not deeply rooted and since we don’t get many winds they can stand for many, many years and become very, very old.

Besides big buttressed trees, I’ve also fallen in love with epiphytes, plants that grow on other plants, they are not parasitic. These epiphytes “make” their own soil, in fact one biologist working in the park believes that there is more dirt above ground than at ground level (the soils here are remarkably poor). It is all about sunlight. In the park we have endless orchids and bromeliads, even mistletoe. Then there’s the vertical structure of the rainforest, made even visible by visiting the canopy walkway, which offers a glimpse into that “rare air.” From the ground the only way to identify some trees is to use binoculars. In addition to trying to identify plants, I’ve also started on butterflies. With over 600 species in the park, I can stay busy. Just last week, I finally got a butterfly net. So now I can get some in the hand. I’m especially interested in getting photographs because there’s no good reference besides a $250.00 two volume set. Don’t laugh, but I’ve even resorted to inspecting the grills of cars (even more reason for the locals to think I’m crazy!!).

My familiars, the pets, continue to charm my days. My first dog’s puppy DD just had 5 puppies—all cute and now all adopted by good homes. Likewise, the cat followed suit, Crazy has two kittens and since cats are known for killing snakes, I think I’ll keep them.

The architect who designed moon house is sending a platoon of architect students to build a computer center for the village, or so that’s the story (never mind that no one here really wants the computers, they’d rather have teacher housing, but hey they’re getting it for free, this is the heartbreak of development work, lots more to say about this another day). The students will be using my house as a home base while here, which means that they’ll eat their breakfast and lunch here and as far as I can tell they’ll be here all day. So, I’m packing all my things into my bedroom, locking the door and leaving town for the duration of their visit, June 4-27. I’m not yet certain if I’m vacationing or just visiting pals around Ghana—unknowable at present.

Work at the park, improved dramatically when the new Wildlife Division “Visitor Relations Officer” appeared. Tina (there’s the first great part—she’s a female) is a thirty-something go-getter, who schooled in the U.S. (Iowa). We just vibe good together, that’s all I can say. This is a different lifetime at the park. It is now soooooo much fun!!!!

Also, I’ve become more integrated into the Wildlife Division and that translates exponentially into more interesting work. I’ve helped train the tour guides on a variety of topics—epiphytes, biodiversity, interpretive skills and butterflies. I’ve introduced a half dozen of the staff to the World Wide Web (recently I read that less than 1% of Ghanaians have computers, what is the U.S. rate?). Last week I taught a mini-class on customer service to the café staff (customer service is non-existent here, I’m not kidding, but their culture is very gracias otherwise, somehow it didn’t extend from the house??). There’s more in the pipeline and that all makes me cheerful. At last, meaningful AND enjoyable work….

And finally, there’s the village work. For one reason or another, they can’t seem to get going and I can’t seem to kick-start them. The principle players are all somehow compromised with competing personal interests—they all have businesses that interfere with their ability to create community benefits (help the person or the community—this is tough). Meetings feel positive, and then nothing happens, time after time. I keep hoping for a Gandhi-like figure to emerge, but alas, nada. This is the trench-work of capacity building. There’s one guy in the village that seems to heading in the right direction, but he disappears for weeks at a time. I need to write about the apparent lack of initiative here, but it is difficult because it is not that simple. Ghanaian culture is non-competitive and that makes personal benefits unseemly and selfish. Contrast that with an equally repugnant layer that is highly exploitive, dishonest and criminal. They call it, “chopping,” which means you “steal” money and or resources while everyone knows it; no one does anything about it (aren’t words fascinating, “chopping” doesn’t sound as bad as stealing). This is all wrapped-up in their notions of power, prestige and personal value. Remember to add the colonial era scars, deep unfathomable waters, which still inform the social structures and beliefs. Everyone suffers. Obviously, this topic deserves more ink, but for today that must suffice.

Ok, onto a lighter palette. In February, the big boss of Ghana Peace Corps called me into his office when I was in Accra and asked if I would like to have lunch with President Bush, Mrs. Bush and Condoleezza Rice at the American ambassador’s residence. Hmmmm, I couldn’t refuse. I dislike the man, but I was offered an opportunity to represent Peace Corps and that I could do without hesitation. During his tenure, Pres. Bush had not entertained any PCVs, so while in Ghana he selected reversed the slight by strategically meeting in the first country that Peace Corps entered in 1961. The Country Director here in Ghana, Bob, selected ten PCVs to represent all PCV’s. Somehow I covered a couple of strategic demographic categories—over 50, female, from the Midwest, democrat, feminist, socialist, Buddhist, humanist, bird watcher, semi-vegetarian, blah, blah, blah….

The entire event was surreal, not that surreal isn’t already an overused concept here, but we were first interrogated by the Peace Corps staff on basic stuff: what are Peace Corps goals, how many volunteers in Ghana, etc.????? Then more sophisticated matters like which fork to use when. Yes, they were very concerned that our village-ways left us unable to use cutlery. The country director assigned me to sit between the pres and Condi; I think the cutlery issue tipped the balance in my favor.

We started the day in quarantine at the Peace Corps office, and then we were driven without looking sidewise to the Ambassador’s residence, screened and led behind a velvet rope that separated us from the throng of expats, embassy staff, media reps, etc. The big motorcade arrived and they disappeared into the Ambassador’s home. After a very short time, they emerged and addressed the crowd, and finally they posed for pictures and kissed babies (I’m not kidding—since Mrs. Bush was here last year, I had more or less seen the same drill then). Our gang was slipped into the Ambassador’s dining room, where we stood behind our chairs like good boarding-school kids.

You know when you haven’t seen a full complement of crystal, china and real silver on a white damask tablecloth in a long time, it can produce vertigo. This was no ordinary table service; this was the presidential china, crystal and sterling. I held onto my Louis XVI chair for support…. The pres, Mrs. Bush, Condi and the press entered the room. #43 told us to relax and sit—we did. Then the media had three minutes to snap pictures and that’s how that “tiara” picture happened. The press was swept out and dinner was served by white-gloved staff. Since arriving here, I have been suffering from uninspired cuisine, I didn’t know it, but lunch was the proof. We had light lobster bisque, followed by a chicken mushroom béarnaise concoction, real bread, real BUTTER, did I say, REAL BUTTER??, a salad of imported greens and raspberry vinaigrette and finally, an apple tart with vanilla ice cream. All accompanied by various American wines (HE had an O’Doul’s).

The conversation was very casual. Our country director gave a few serious remarks, but then we went around the table introducing ourselves with the pres working us. He joked about PCVs home states, their schools (since many of the 20-somethings are school-identified) and their Peace Corps work. He had already heard about my snake bite. He seemed genuinely interested in all of our stories. Most of us talked about our work and how we’re making a difference. I talked about poachers at the park and teaching English.

During our hour and a half lunch, the pres poked my arm several times, called me “Dixie chick,” and “honey.” I felt like I was sitting by my younger teenage brother. Yes, there was a lot of snickering. Madame Secretary of State, on the other hand was quiet, more formal. She said very little besides stating her plans post S.O.S., “back to Stanford and teaching.” The event ended when the handlers arrived and whisked us out for individual photos (yes, if I can get it scanned I’ll post the picture of me standing between Pres. and Mrs. Bush). The entourage left for another function and we were ushered through the kitchen to the back door (literally) to wait for our vehicles to come fetch us after the motorcade had cleared the Ambassador’s residence.

I have pictures to prove all this, but some days I have to pinch myself or look at the lovely Tiffany engraved-pewter box that we all received as our “gifts” to remember that it was real. Very, very, very, very real.

Now a fitting segue? How? Coming up? Besides the unknowable, I’ll keep on doing all the usual things. I just remembered how I miss those PCV pals, especially Sarah, Katie, Kate, Mary Jane and Donna. I hope the RPCV world is sweet. I was a trainer at the SED IST and believe me, this world ain’t the same without you’ins….

Belated birthday wishes to all the January girls—lil’ sis Amy, Sarah S., Sharon L., Vicky P., Miki M., Shari S.; Feb—Miriam, Jean, Lynsey, Paula; March-- Lorri, Martha, Georgette, Shelby, Nan Joy; April—Evie (oh Evie, you’ll be missed), lil’ bro Mark, Becky L., Kate S., FJF, Kathy S., Larry Peavler; May--Mom, Deb Bussard. Then June—Jena, Melinda H., Annie B., TT, Rebecca J. (where are you??), Melynda and lovely Tammara. Whew, please forgive me if I’ve missed your day, they all roll around in my gray matter somewhere.

I send healing to Jen, Carole Edson, Shari’s Mom, Vi and anyone who needs it at all—it works.,

I wish you all great and wonderful days.

Always…xo…d

p.s. if possible I’ll post more pictures at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dixiebird/