Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Transformation

As I get ready to head to the airport in an hour, it occurs to me that each time I travel from the developing world to the developed world and vice versa, there's a certain transformation that takes place. 

Now that I'm moving back to the US (although my next trip to Ghana is in just a month), the transformation feels more pronounced.  A week or so ago, I wore my jeans - just to get used to them again.  Today, I picked out my travel clothes - layers that will get me through the not-air-conditioned airport chaos (which is normally chaotic, but traveling with 2 dogs and 2 very hefty suitcases will no doubt be a whole other layer of chaos), the over-air-conditioned plane and a stopover in Amsterdam where I can change into my "developed world" clothes.  I have my "Ghana wallet" in my purse - one made of recycled water sachets and filled with cedis, my Ghanaian driver's license and very, very worn out and have my "Europe/US wallet" in my carry-on - filled with dollars, euros, my US driver's license and nice, smooth leather in a hip green color.   The puppies who spend their days here rolling around in the rainy season mud in my garden have both been bathed and groomed and I keep telling Zig Zag how exciting it is for a little dog from Ghana to immigrate to the US! 

Then, there's the mind shift.  I'm getting myself prepared for a faster-than-the-speed-of-light world filled with automation.  Reviewing in my head how to use a debit card and use the self check-out at the grocery store.  Praying I'll remember that turning in front of people and agressively fighting for your spot in traffic is a style frowned upon on Vashon. 

I'm sure it will all be fine, but I suspect the pupies and I will be a bit dumbstruck for a few days, so if you see us with eyes glazed over, moving at a much slower pace than the world around us, please be patient :) 

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

A Little Slice of Life

I've had a couple of quintessentially Ghana experiences lately and they're the type of things that define life in a developing country. 

Vodafone is the main phone and internet provider here.  Despite the fact that they are a major global corporation, they can't seem to get basic, reliable service in place in Ghana.  For example, I don't receive a bill for my monthly internet service at my house.  I have to remember when I paid it the prior month and get it paid the following month or, without warning, they shut off my internet.  This happened last week while I was out of town.  I went to the main Vodafone office to pay my bill and was told that I couldn't pay because the link was down and I should try another of their offices.  I laughed at the fact that the internet company couldn't take my money to restore my internet service because the internet was down.  I drove across town to another of their stores and tried to pay.  Again, I was told the "link" was down.  So, no payment therefore no internet (thankfully, I have a modem to use as backup). 

Today, I needed to get confirmation from KLM that the dogs can fly with me next week.  All morning, their phone lines were down - service provided by Vodafone, of course.  So, I decided it would be best to just go to the KLM office and sort out the dog issue in person, rather than wait for the phone lines to come back up.  I checked the internet (which was working)  and found the location of the KLM office.  I went there only to find an empty building.  No signs, nothing.  Someone on the street told me they had moved to an office tower near the airport.  I drove back across town to one of the new, shiny office towers in Accra (there are many that are partially built, but few completed and inhabited).  I got on the elevator and realized this is only the 2nd elevator I've been on in Accra.  Once to the floor of he KLM offices, I was told this was their administrative offices and I should go to the airport to the ticketing office.  The elevator felt......questionable to me on the way up, so I took the stairs down.  I noticed on each floor a good-sized metal hammer with a sign "In Case of Fire Break Glass" next to it.  I thought it was encouraging, as fire safety is not something you see often around here.  I've seen smaller hammers and signs in the US, but usually the hammer and sign is next to a small glass box containing a fire alarm to be pulled in case of fire.  There was no box - just a large hammer and a sign.  I realized that the instructions meant to break the glass of the glass exit doors in the stairwell in case of fire!!!!  I supposed you could hack the hell out of the glass door, hope you don't injure yourself with the broken glass and then head for a speedy exit in case of fire.  I guess it's the next best thing if there is no alarm to pull to alert the fire department.

I then headed to the airport where the airline offices are.  A guard directed me down the hall and to the left to get to the KLM office. I never found the office but did find an employee of another airline wandering around.  He informed me that KLM had their own building outside and I should just go out and look that way (he points).  So, I did that and finally found KLM's shiny new ticketing office.  Complete with an orderly "take a number" system and friendly agents sitting behind functioning computers with nice flat screen monitors.  But of course, the phone lines were still out!  I guess development is one step at a time........

Friday, July 9, 2010

Under a Baobab Tree

What an amazing week at work - I just returned to Accra after spending the week in some of the most remote areas in Ghana.  The MoTeCH team and I went around to rural health outreach clinics to sign up pregnant women and children under 5 for the MoTeCH service.  By the end of the week, we had registered around 700 women and kids - all via inputting the basic personal and health data into a simple mobile phone.  It was a lot of work, but also a lot of fun.  The clinics are held anywhere the community gathers - most of the ones I attended were literally under the local baobab tree.  The nurse would drive up on a motorcycle, benches would appear, a baby scale would be hung by one of the branches of the tree and the next thing you know, women and children are showing up from all over the village.  Each baby has it's own "sack" to be weighed in.  The babies are hung on the hook on the scale in the tree and their weight is charted in a health book the mom is responsible for.  That's the only health record the kids have and by the time a child is 5 or so, those little books are in pretty shabby condition.  Vaccinations, vitamin A, dewormers and basic health information was given out.  There were a few newborns and this constituted their first "well baby" check since the first check at birth.  Amazing. 

I totally enjoyed being out in the villages, watching how the moms interact, how the toddlers kept themselves amused with dirt and a pair of flip-flops and how old men hung out under the tree, ready to help with whatever was needed.  Some babies had "medicine" around their necks - little pouches of various concotions or skins that were the local, traditional medicine for one ailment or another.  Kids peed wherever they needed to, moms sat around on benches waiting for the nurses to log the kids' information in their health book and get it back to them, nurses shamed mothers for the condition of the books, goats bleated and men plowed the fields nearby and generally it was just life....under the baobab tree.  I just kept thinking how very different a child health clinic would look in the US - stressed moms who needed to get back to work, big strollers and well-packed diaper bags, toys and a sterile, confidential environment for receiving health care. 

Despite missing the kids desperately, it was a really great week at work and reminded me of exactly why I am here. 
A rural health clinic under the baobab treeA baby being weighed

Saturday, July 3, 2010

It's "Finished"

When we order food in a restaurant, we often get the response "it's finished". When the electricity goes out, it's "finished".   When anything is not available, completed or over, it is "finished".  So, it seems fitting to say that on the day that Ghana lost a heartbreaking match with Uruguay in the World Cup quarter finals, I put the kids on a plane to the US - this phase of life in Ghana is "finished". 

Our Ghana Family (Sophie, Rosie, Japha, Patience, Xavier, Zig Zag, Kirsten)

The last few days of good-byes were sweet.  My favorite was visiting the family of Xavier's best friend, Atis.  The kids all gathered together to pose for a photo (below) and Atis' little sister (a budding drama queen) declares that everyone must sing "the anthem".  Given that their family is Swiss and Serb and has lived in both Rwanda and Ghana for most of the kids' lives, my kids are American and were living in Ghana for the past year, I was not sure which anthem would be sung.  But, all the kids knew - and they sang us a rousing rendition of "God Bless My Homeland Ghana".  It made tears come to my eyes and was one of the sweetest things I have ever witnessed! 

The kids' last full day in Ghana consistied of a visit to Patience, our housekeeper's,  village.  It was one of the ones most affected by the floods of a few weeks ago.  The kids and Colleen took a big bag of rice and lots of clothes to the village.  Sophie was able to get some amazing shots of village life and the juxtaposition of the joy displayed on people's faces with the devastation of the floods. 

It started pouring rain when we woke up to head to the airport yesterday.  We arrived with ankle-deep water on the airport drive and I told the kids all of Ghana was crying because they were leaving.  The rain stopped about the time their flight departed.  Twenty-four hours after getting the kids to the airport in Accra, they have arrived safely in Seattle with Colleen.  All went well, although it sounds like none of the three got any sleep to speak of.  I am lying around moping with the puppies, missing the kids and all the amazing energy they brought to our world here in Ghana, remembering the countless adventures we shared in the past year, thinking of the profound ways every one of us has changed and feeling grateful knowing that there are so many people on Vashon that are happy they are back.

Yes, this phase of their lives is "finished" but the impact of it will no doubt last forever.........