Today was a day that will stay in my memory for many years to come. As is said in Ghana, sorry, sorry, I am just writing in Word and will not edit nor correct as I am very tired and want to share my day with you. Right now I am in Tamale, in the northern part of Ghana. Not real far north, but far enough to be different from the Ashante Region. The homes are round with thatched roofs, it is primarily Muslim, more in the country (Tamale is not as big as Kumasi), more laid back (if than can even begin to be possible), red dirt, lots of motorcycles with up to 4, yes that is 4, adults on them without helmets….
I am staying with a new friend named Emelia. She has an organization she is starting to take care of the many orphaned children and the many aged (and I mean aged!) that have little family left. She has provided me with the best of meals, jollif of rice, guinea fowl, a wonderful display for breakfast, a private room with great shower (cold of course), regular toilet, nice big bed, truly the comforts of home.
We got in last evening after a long bus ride; details may or may not be later. The restroom story was the best for sure. But we got in, she had a nice meal prepared, cold water to drink, cold water to shower in, and we talked for about 2 hours afterward. Dropped into bed…up at 6AM
Again, another wonderful meal of oatmeal, fried egg sandwich (very popular here), coffee. And off we went to visit some of her clients. This is where the day really began. At 9 we left the house, it was already hot. We walked to the main road. Oh and before I forget this is the best part. The neighbors down the road have TWO turkeys….Thanksgiving here we come! It will just be a problem of quietly bagging those birds and the bus ride to Kumasi with live turkeys. Then figuring out how to kill and dress them. Well, maybe chicken will do.
So it is hot already but I have my water, toilet paper, peanut butter and jelly, and supplies to do some physical assessments…and my camera. People are VERY particular about taking pictures here. You need to ask permission, so while I have pictures, I only wish I had more of what I saw today. But out of respect, for these people, I understand. We get to the road and hail a cab. Off to visit a family with 3 children, the mother died giving birth to twins (that is common, death in childbirth) and an older child who did not like me at all! Darn scary white lady! This family was kind enough to let me photograph their compound, with the round houses, little round houses for the animals, fires, and a new mom breastfeeding a baby inside a round house. The pole up the center is a tree trunk; say 4 to 6 inches in diameter…then the house build around it and a thatched roof. There is a door and window. Dad had to go get the kiddos out of school. They come back, all on one motorcycle, no helmets. The twins were great, the male child or elder much larger than the female child or second child. The oldest female was the one that didn’t like the white lady, but that is okay, I understand. I checked over the twins…heart, lungs (cough probably from cooking fire smoke), pulse, little tummies. The little boys tummy was quite large and distended…worm’s maybe? The little girl was great. Got pictures. This father is not employed full time, there are probably 3 families, all related, living in this compound. Can I describe it? No…you must be there to hear the sounds, smell the smells, see the clothes hanging, and see the fire heated for dinner with dinner cooking early in the day. But I will say, I have seen poverty in the US…..but nothing, absolutely nothing like this before. And the people, smiling, happy to see me, happy their children are getting a rather cursory check over physically, happy for visitors.
Then off to another home. Another cab, another walk down red dusty roads, smiling people, waving and saying hello. We dodged motorbikes, bicycles, cabs, sheep, goats and cows. ( This is ANOTHER language now…not Twi. I have decided to only learn hello in this language and concentrate on my Twi.) We arrive at another compound similar to the first. The Grandmother greets us and Emelia converses with her for about 20 to 30 minutes (this is done at each stop…socializing and stating your business there). We meet the family there. I am ushered into one of the round houses to see the Grandfather. He is 85 or 90. No one keeps track of birthdates (Muslim primarily, but Christians of this age bracket, or even MY age bracket don’t have a clue about their age. He is ill and I am afraid he might be dying. He has not eaten for 2 or 3 weeks, drinks very little water or tea, is so thin I can put my tiny hands around the calves of his legs. He doesn’t poop often and urine a dark red. One foot is enlarged..he was bitten by 3 snakes on the same foot during his life. I assume the swelling may be due to tissue damage there. His knees are as big as tennis balls and larger from arthritis. I check him over. His BP is running low, about 100 / 60, HR is about 80, lung sounds good. No belly sounds, but he hasn’t eaten. Now this is what disturbs me. He is laying on a cement floor, no mattress, no mat, no sheet, pillow yes,…but nothing else. Yet, he smiles at me as I examine him and asks Emelia to find something to show me. A beat up tennis ball to use to exercise his hands. This, this is one of his few belongings and he is sharing it with me, showing me how to use it and smiling. Wow….at this point, I don’t know whether to smile with him or start crying for the misery he is in. I go with the smile and cover his hands to help him. We have a few moments of fun. Fortunately he is in no pain. I am afraid he will pass away soon.
On to a school. Another taxi, more red dirt, more cows, goats, sheep (and may I add in case you haven’t figured out, droppings in the road to dodge!). This school is wonderful. I was not expecting what I saw. This is a school for children 1 year 2 months to age 6 when the kids start regular school. We get there at recess, and you know 130 kids at recess (oh, by this time is must be 11:30 and if it was hot before, it is hotter now and the headmistress serves us water). There was mass pandemonium, how in the heat, I have not a clue, but you know kids. The headmistress shows me around, a library and they have library on Friday, a crèche or nursery for the little ones up to about age 3, classrooms for the over 3 crows. Suddenly there was total organization in the yard…children putting toys away, rolling up mats, and lining up to wash their hands. The headmistress explains it is back to class. They go to class, the women workers take the towels, and wash them so each time the children wash, which is often, they have a clean towel to use (granted 30 kids may use that towel, but it is clean). We visit the class rooms and am I impressed. The children all sitting at a sorta long desk on a bench. The 5 year olds learning division, spelling in another room….reading in another and these kids are under 6 years old. The behavior is perfect.
Off to visit another older person. This a grandmother to Emelia. Same song with the red dust, cabs, trashy street (PLEASE someone suggest what to do with those plastic bags!!!), poop to dodge, urine smell outside the homes or in the fields, and hotter. But we get to Grandma’s house. She is sitting on the cement porch waiting for us with a huge smile on her face. Again the introductions, conversation and statement of business. A granddaughter (she must be about 25 or so) gets a mat for Grandma who is 95 or 96 they think (this they knew by counting back Chiefs…not the Kansas City Chiefs…tribal chiefs). Heart rate perfecto, lung sounds perfecto, tummy sounds perfecto…some hypertension but hey at 95 it wasn’t that bad…let it go. She has some waist pain….lower back pain. But she is sitting and probably sleeping on a cement floor….and of us would have that too. Then, this was the most interesting, she has a granddaughter bring out her funeral basket. This is my first exposure to a Muslim funeral practices so some of you may be familiar. I do know or think that the burial must take place soon after death and there is no casket. The granddaughter brings out a basket about 3 feet in diameter. Inside there are calabashes (?), pans for bathing her after death, and 3 shrouds that this elderly woman has made! By hand from raw cotton. They are woven strips about 2 inches wide, then hand sewn together. Grandma has the granddaughter get me her spinning tools and proceeds to show me how this is done. The grandson is trying to explain this all to me, and in between profusely thanking me for coming over. Wow…I am humbled, truly humbled by their kindness and sharing of the intamacies of their life with me.
After this, I don’t know. How can anyone on the US say they are poor? I know they are, but these people have no beds, flies all over the place, no clean water, no potties, hardly any food to eat and what they have are carbs no fruit or veggies, mom’s dying giving birth or shortly after, families know their children should go to school and struggling to get them there, kids that are well mannered and well behaved, poop everywhere, urine smell all over the place………Emelia provided me with some experiences that are once in a lifetime. And for that I am grateful. Oh, one last note. Remember the new born babe? Well, when a baby is born that baby gets a new, galvanized bucket for his own. That may be all he/she gets, but it is his, to use for bath, washing clothes, water, or whatever. But THAT is the shower gift. That is the shower gift…a new bucket. Think of that next time you buy one.
So, off to bed. Another busy day tomorrow. Thanks for listening and reading. I wish there were ways to send the smells, the sights the sounds….
I am staying with a new friend named Emelia. She has an organization she is starting to take care of the many orphaned children and the many aged (and I mean aged!) that have little family left. She has provided me with the best of meals, jollif of rice, guinea fowl, a wonderful display for breakfast, a private room with great shower (cold of course), regular toilet, nice big bed, truly the comforts of home.
We got in last evening after a long bus ride; details may or may not be later. The restroom story was the best for sure. But we got in, she had a nice meal prepared, cold water to drink, cold water to shower in, and we talked for about 2 hours afterward. Dropped into bed…up at 6AM
Again, another wonderful meal of oatmeal, fried egg sandwich (very popular here), coffee. And off we went to visit some of her clients. This is where the day really began. At 9 we left the house, it was already hot. We walked to the main road. Oh and before I forget this is the best part. The neighbors down the road have TWO turkeys….Thanksgiving here we come! It will just be a problem of quietly bagging those birds and the bus ride to Kumasi with live turkeys. Then figuring out how to kill and dress them. Well, maybe chicken will do.
So it is hot already but I have my water, toilet paper, peanut butter and jelly, and supplies to do some physical assessments…and my camera. People are VERY particular about taking pictures here. You need to ask permission, so while I have pictures, I only wish I had more of what I saw today. But out of respect, for these people, I understand. We get to the road and hail a cab. Off to visit a family with 3 children, the mother died giving birth to twins (that is common, death in childbirth) and an older child who did not like me at all! Darn scary white lady! This family was kind enough to let me photograph their compound, with the round houses, little round houses for the animals, fires, and a new mom breastfeeding a baby inside a round house. The pole up the center is a tree trunk; say 4 to 6 inches in diameter…then the house build around it and a thatched roof. There is a door and window. Dad had to go get the kiddos out of school. They come back, all on one motorcycle, no helmets. The twins were great, the male child or elder much larger than the female child or second child. The oldest female was the one that didn’t like the white lady, but that is okay, I understand. I checked over the twins…heart, lungs (cough probably from cooking fire smoke), pulse, little tummies. The little boys tummy was quite large and distended…worm’s maybe? The little girl was great. Got pictures. This father is not employed full time, there are probably 3 families, all related, living in this compound. Can I describe it? No…you must be there to hear the sounds, smell the smells, see the clothes hanging, and see the fire heated for dinner with dinner cooking early in the day. But I will say, I have seen poverty in the US…..but nothing, absolutely nothing like this before. And the people, smiling, happy to see me, happy their children are getting a rather cursory check over physically, happy for visitors.
Then off to another home. Another cab, another walk down red dusty roads, smiling people, waving and saying hello. We dodged motorbikes, bicycles, cabs, sheep, goats and cows. ( This is ANOTHER language now…not Twi. I have decided to only learn hello in this language and concentrate on my Twi.) We arrive at another compound similar to the first. The Grandmother greets us and Emelia converses with her for about 20 to 30 minutes (this is done at each stop…socializing and stating your business there). We meet the family there. I am ushered into one of the round houses to see the Grandfather. He is 85 or 90. No one keeps track of birthdates (Muslim primarily, but Christians of this age bracket, or even MY age bracket don’t have a clue about their age. He is ill and I am afraid he might be dying. He has not eaten for 2 or 3 weeks, drinks very little water or tea, is so thin I can put my tiny hands around the calves of his legs. He doesn’t poop often and urine a dark red. One foot is enlarged..he was bitten by 3 snakes on the same foot during his life. I assume the swelling may be due to tissue damage there. His knees are as big as tennis balls and larger from arthritis. I check him over. His BP is running low, about 100 / 60, HR is about 80, lung sounds good. No belly sounds, but he hasn’t eaten. Now this is what disturbs me. He is laying on a cement floor, no mattress, no mat, no sheet, pillow yes,…but nothing else. Yet, he smiles at me as I examine him and asks Emelia to find something to show me. A beat up tennis ball to use to exercise his hands. This, this is one of his few belongings and he is sharing it with me, showing me how to use it and smiling. Wow….at this point, I don’t know whether to smile with him or start crying for the misery he is in. I go with the smile and cover his hands to help him. We have a few moments of fun. Fortunately he is in no pain. I am afraid he will pass away soon.
On to a school. Another taxi, more red dirt, more cows, goats, sheep (and may I add in case you haven’t figured out, droppings in the road to dodge!). This school is wonderful. I was not expecting what I saw. This is a school for children 1 year 2 months to age 6 when the kids start regular school. We get there at recess, and you know 130 kids at recess (oh, by this time is must be 11:30 and if it was hot before, it is hotter now and the headmistress serves us water). There was mass pandemonium, how in the heat, I have not a clue, but you know kids. The headmistress shows me around, a library and they have library on Friday, a crèche or nursery for the little ones up to about age 3, classrooms for the over 3 crows. Suddenly there was total organization in the yard…children putting toys away, rolling up mats, and lining up to wash their hands. The headmistress explains it is back to class. They go to class, the women workers take the towels, and wash them so each time the children wash, which is often, they have a clean towel to use (granted 30 kids may use that towel, but it is clean). We visit the class rooms and am I impressed. The children all sitting at a sorta long desk on a bench. The 5 year olds learning division, spelling in another room….reading in another and these kids are under 6 years old. The behavior is perfect.
Off to visit another older person. This a grandmother to Emelia. Same song with the red dust, cabs, trashy street (PLEASE someone suggest what to do with those plastic bags!!!), poop to dodge, urine smell outside the homes or in the fields, and hotter. But we get to Grandma’s house. She is sitting on the cement porch waiting for us with a huge smile on her face. Again the introductions, conversation and statement of business. A granddaughter (she must be about 25 or so) gets a mat for Grandma who is 95 or 96 they think (this they knew by counting back Chiefs…not the Kansas City Chiefs…tribal chiefs). Heart rate perfecto, lung sounds perfecto, tummy sounds perfecto…some hypertension but hey at 95 it wasn’t that bad…let it go. She has some waist pain….lower back pain. But she is sitting and probably sleeping on a cement floor….and of us would have that too. Then, this was the most interesting, she has a granddaughter bring out her funeral basket. This is my first exposure to a Muslim funeral practices so some of you may be familiar. I do know or think that the burial must take place soon after death and there is no casket. The granddaughter brings out a basket about 3 feet in diameter. Inside there are calabashes (?), pans for bathing her after death, and 3 shrouds that this elderly woman has made! By hand from raw cotton. They are woven strips about 2 inches wide, then hand sewn together. Grandma has the granddaughter get me her spinning tools and proceeds to show me how this is done. The grandson is trying to explain this all to me, and in between profusely thanking me for coming over. Wow…I am humbled, truly humbled by their kindness and sharing of the intamacies of their life with me.
After this, I don’t know. How can anyone on the US say they are poor? I know they are, but these people have no beds, flies all over the place, no clean water, no potties, hardly any food to eat and what they have are carbs no fruit or veggies, mom’s dying giving birth or shortly after, families know their children should go to school and struggling to get them there, kids that are well mannered and well behaved, poop everywhere, urine smell all over the place………Emelia provided me with some experiences that are once in a lifetime. And for that I am grateful. Oh, one last note. Remember the new born babe? Well, when a baby is born that baby gets a new, galvanized bucket for his own. That may be all he/she gets, but it is his, to use for bath, washing clothes, water, or whatever. But THAT is the shower gift. That is the shower gift…a new bucket. Think of that next time you buy one.
So, off to bed. Another busy day tomorrow. Thanks for listening and reading. I wish there were ways to send the smells, the sights the sounds….
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