“Is That Your Giraffe?”

The fact that skipping my Colonial Rule/African Response discussion class was the highlight of this week’s academic experience is a good indication of my attitude towards the University of Ghana’s learning environment.  It’s just not very good. That being said, we did have an useless engaging discussion on reggae music and the Rastafari movement in Jamaica during Wednesday’s lecture. Also, in my “Sucks That Y’all Were Born in Ghana!” class, Bossman asked the class what the difference between the United Kingdom and Britain is, and one student confidently replied, “The UK is bigger!,” while another added emphatically, “Britain is England!”. Well, at least classes are never short on laughter! What are the classes short on? Relevancy.

Beacon House this week was incredibly different.  Without Katie or Rachel, the girls who had been there every day for a month to teach, there was a noticeable atmosphere change. Things seemed more hushed and even somber when I arrived Tuesday afternoon.   I was still greeted with more enthusiasm than I usually am; the kids were probably excited to see that at least one person hasn’t abandoned them yet.  It was obvious that the attention given to them had precipitously dropped, and unfortunately luckily for me, that meant I got to be everybody’s sole entertainment provider.  This has especially been the case with the younger, pre-school-aged kids who were previously given constant attention by Katie.   While I didn’t do much on Tuesday, I did get to play with Prince (aka my favorite kid of all time), and take this picture with him, which instantly became my favorite ever:

I apparently appear super skinny here. I say my arm is just strategically covering where most of the fat is.

Other than that, I just watched Daddy Day Care with them, yet another movie that I loved when I was 10 but failed to see the appeal in today.  Maybe it’s because many of the scenes felt too familiar.

Thursday was probably the most challenging day yet for me at Beacon House, despite the wonderful fact that I completed my 135 required hours that day (CIEE record? Probably).  The kids hadn’t had class since last week, and nobody I asked knew when the long-term teachers would be arriving.  When I arrived that morning and saw that the kids were just running around/playing, I had to make the decision to either do nothing and hope a teacher comes soon, or put on my big boy panties and create work for them to do myself.

What happens when an infant gets his hands on the homework I provided

The thought of them regressing, forgetting what they’ve learned and losing any progress made the month I’ve been there was unacceptable to me.  I am in no way qualified to teach and I’m not really known for my ability to rise to any occasion, but I surprised myself this week.  It helps when these kids are so eager to learn; they came to me asking for work. I mean, I was pretty enthusiastic about learning when I was 10, but I was one of the losers exceptions.  It’s really nice to see here.

Before the kids could work on the practice questions I created, a FRENCH TEACHER (Zilda!) arrived to work with them for 45 minutes.  My initial excitement over this development  soon diminished when I realized how much of the French I learned over the past 2 years has been forgotten. Next semester should be hilarious.  I’m also concerned that there isn’t any use for Zilda’s lessons; these kids are still learning how to read/write English (why they’re learning English and not Twi at least in conjunction is an issue I don’t feel like ranting about now), so I can’t really see how attempting to learn French is of any benefit to them.

Later that afternoon, after lunch and after my failed attempt at buying some pencils for the kids to use for their practice questions (the store had pens and damned compasses, but no pencils?!), something wonderful happened.  A beautiful, bright, shining beacon (pun intended) of hope appeared to quell my fears of being responsible for the education of these kids long-term: Heather, Beacon House’s co-founder and licensed teacher! Almost cried.  She didn’t stay long that day, so that meant I still had to help the kids alone with the work I made for them, but things went smoothly enough. It’s just hard when everybody’s at a different level and wants my attention at the same time.  I’m used to people wanting my attention never, so it’s understandably overwhelming.

Other Thursday Highlights/Quotes:

  • Romeo (the dog), mounted one of the children. I was frozen in shock.
  • “Is Santa in America?”
  • “Does the President of the America sleep?”
  • “On Christmas, if he’s (Obama’s) bad, he get’s a bad gift.” What’s the bad gift? I asked. Coal? “No. Only water.”
  • “I like your head!” (seconds later) “I like your ears!”

It was another long day at Beacon House on Friday.  That morning I helped Heather and the kids start to clean/organize the classroom. Heather has the cleaning ethic of my mother, meaning there can be nothing out of place and anything potentially unimportant needs to be thrown away.  Immediately. I helped create ‘Good Behavior’ charts, something I always loved growing up. I was shockingly obnoxious during elementary school (can you imagine me being labeled consistently as the “Class Clown?” I can’t either.), but always looked to get some Gold Stars, especially if food rewards were involved. I was the French Fry King of East Broadway Class of 2003, evidenced by my…healthy girth appearance:

So. Fat. But at least I look happy about it!

Heather’s 10 year old son, Jayden (Jaedan? Eh. Britney Spears picked “Jayden,” and I haven’t seen any reason to doubt her choices) was also there.  He’s a cute and somewhat insane kid, which means he fits in well with the others.  Having another white boy there who is actually their age meant the kids paid less attention to me, which I wasn’t about to complain about. Let Jayden get chased around all day while I sit and roll a ball with Prince or help build some puzzles.

So sad when he didn’t even know what Winnie the Pooh is

Somebody knows he’s not supposed to be in there.

My other Friday experience involved interviewing two young mothers for the blog who live and work at the orphanage. I’m still a bit skeptical that they’re 18 and 19, and unsurprisingly not much was revealed (my interviewing skills are nonexistent). Of course I couldn’t make it through the interviews without something uncomfortable happening during one of them: Breast feeding.  This might come as a surprise to none some of you, but I haven’t been exposed to any many breasts, let alone ones with a baby latched on.

Other Friday Quotes:

  • “Do you have a mother? Do you have a father? Do you have a poopoo?”
  • “How are you? (without waiting for a response) I’m fine!”
    • Prince said this. He doesn’t know much English, but whenever he says something like this it’s the cutest. Ever.
    • “Is that your giraffe?” No. “Is that your dad’s giraffe?” NO!!

      My father and I with “our” giraffe at Busch Gardens

Saturday was CIEE Community Service day! About half of us (the other half had better things to do were traveling, or intentionally accidentally overslept) went to Future Leaders, an underprivileged children’s center that provides education for at-risk kids and houses orphans.  Admittedly, I contemplated skipping the trip because leaving at 7:00 AM seemed really unappealing, but thankfully I haven’t reached the level of asshole required to use that as an excuse.

It was a long but really productive day of manual labor; we helped build

I wish you could see the airplane painted next to the elephant that’s seemingly flying down towards his face.

a classroom and painted a lot of the walls that needed some revitalizing.  After sanding and painting moldy walls for a while, I helped drag carry some wooden planks over to be cut and made into the walls of the new classroom.  Things became comical as many of us attempted to use a handsaw to cut the wood. I’m sure you can guess how well I did with that.  My particular skillset isn’t really suitable for anything construction, but hey! At least no bodily harm was done! That’s all that matters. We got to paint designs on the walls of the classroom, and I helped fingerpaint an elephant that my friend sketched.

By the time we finished working at around 3:00, it’s possible that I was the grossest I’ve ever looked.  My hands were covered in paint and turpentine, but that didn’t stop me from devouring the pizza that was provided.

Week 9 in Ghana has come and gone unnaturally fast.  I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that there is only one more month of classes. I don’t want to think about having to choose next semester’s courses in a few weeks or going home at all, really. Life in DC is hard, and is stressful.  There never seems to be enough time in a day or week to do the things I need to do, and I find myself struggling through one moment just to make it to the next one. Time here is…different. Things are slower, calmer.  The people I’ve met, the experiences I’ve had…I just feel that my life here is filled with purpose, something I’m not sure I’ve felt in a long time back home.  I feel warm.  I feel like a better me.

Alrighty! Again, thank you for continuing to read this! If you’re insane and haven’t listened to Adele’s James Bond theme song, today’s your lucky day!

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