spitting in the ocean

I am so sorry that I have been away for so long. I realize that it probably isnt a big deal to not blog, but i dont mean to be out of touch and worry anyone. So much has happened in the last few weeks!!!! I was down for almost a week with Malaria, I learned that Dada does, in fact, know some great ASL, and I have had a hard time watching friends head home. Justin has arrived here safely and as Alyssa leaves tonight (dont even want to talk about it) he and I will begin a traveling adventure tomorrow. He has come with me to the Beacon house for the last 3 days and he is today officially worn out :)    I tell you what. it is so nice to have someone there with me.... more hands and eyes are a gret thing. plus the kids love him. Alyssa came today as well..... good people good places.

speaking of... great people have adopted 6 of our kids since i last wrote and we have brought in 5 more, including one tiny little baby who looks like the ones in the sad commercials. I have no doubts that his life has been saved, and with not one moment to spare.

i dont have any time alloted at the moment.... so i will hopefully come back another day to write to you decently, for the time being, I could really use prayers as I prepare my heart to head back to the states. haha, and pray for Justin who must deal with me while i do so.

I send love. lots of it.
God bless you.

deaf

Sometimes  I can't hear.
I sort of get stuck in my head, thinking too hard, too much, and too deeply. Danny Lee always tells me I'm  not allowed to think anymore when he can see a thought on my brow. He says he can tell by my forehead that i am thinking too hard. (I just happen to have a huge forehead, by the way, Im an Engquist after all... he could probably read my future or draw a map of the world on that thing!) He is a bit of a rasta, so dont worry by happy is a general theme to his thinking.
Anyhow, there are so many parts of me that need work, things Im not proud of, and things I can never seem to fix.... The other day... I just fell to pieces in my head. It was so easy to beat myself up... The best solution to this is to be with the kids or have my toes in the ocean.... and since I had already finished my time at the orphanage in the morning, I hopped into a trotro and headed to 37 station on my way to the beach. When I got to 37, I walked through the station with a drag in my step and my eyebrows scrunched together, thinking, wanting to be better. But you see... sometimes i can't hear... because i choose to be deaf. God doesn't let me stay so stubborn, so he calmly pulls my fingers out of my ears and says.... "Jen, its not about you.... when you want it to be about you, I am sorry, it just isnt.... and on days like today, when you dont want it to be about you.... calm down, rest a minute, it isnt about you, little girl." And it isnt.... and no amount of self loathing in a smelly taxi park will make my rough day center on me.... and thank goodness. I needed that reminder.... that daily lesson that I am filled when i think about others. This is how it happened.

I got into another trotro that would pass by the beach. while i was waiting for it to fill, this girl hands me an envelope through the window. This meant she had a cause that I should be giving money to... but this envelope had words all over it. I read that it was for the education and employment of the deaf in Accra. I was excited, then skeptical..... so i asked the girl -out loud, haha- if she was deaf. she shook her head and signed that she cant hear me. I signed "you know sign language?" She turned to her friend and signed "white girl knows sign language" so we visited -i did a lot of finger spelling- and when th trotro filled, i signed that I would meet her again. Here is the thing.... what made me feel better wasn't -obviously- anything i put in an envelope (which, i must be humble and say it was hardly anything since i dont take anything to the beach).... what made me feel better was this little bit of life that comes from sharing something with someone.... and.... I kept thinking about Atule at the Beacon House and how i wondered so often if it would help him that I try to teach him ASL, since different places have different sorts of sign languge...... but the girls at 37 use ASL! ANd they were so sweet. Ok, so my fingers were pulled from my ears and even I couldnt wreck this sunny day. I got to the beach and plopped my tired self down on a blue bed, on the bed next to me was Eben, whose company I either greatly enjoy or I really struggle with.... we go on an every other day basis, and that day was due to be a good one (I saw him again yesterday, haha, and it was rough, true to form. This means the next time I see him we will be best friends) .... and this was indeed a great day. Eben is the silent type, but he had so many things to tell me about who he is and how he thinks and how he wants me to just be free, dont worry, like him... and then he told me tons about his mom, haha, which was very sweet, and just about what he thinks of his way of life. Eben is a gem who often chooses to hide his goodness, and this tough day for me was blessed by the best and most thoughtful parts of Eben Lee.
But then!!!!! DaDa  came by! I think i have mentioned him before, he is the sweet, uneducated, deaf man who is always on the beach. He helps out with some of the work there, and I assume that is how he makes his life. I adore this guy. He does not know ASL, but we work things out just fine, and Eben understands him really really well..... DaDa and I  pretty much laughed for an hour while I tought him how to play bloody knuckles and he consistantly stole my bananas without me catching him.... then he told a story about a white man who is deaf and he is allowed to drive in his country. ..... people use horns so much here... and so much of the deaf population goes without an education.... who would have ever taught a man like DaDa to drive and to write out forms...... there was no one to do that for him, so it amazed him that this white man got to drive, it was something fantastic and made for dreams. I love to understand him. I made a joke about the way he expresses "white people," which is a certain way of touching his arm. He then pretended to pull the white off my arm and put it on himself. We spent a few minutes stealing each others skin colors. I even took out my sunscreen and put some on his arm, which he laughed at so loudly and with such a wide smile.

This is good life. This is good. I still have a whole lot of me to work on, but I need to remember more often to "be here now"... which has been a theme for several years now. I dont know how to fix myself, and that really gets to me.... but in the mean time, God has placed the focus elsewhere.... blessing me with the movement of hands and faces....... This is good life.

as a little note.... im pretty thankful to Ed, Alison, Steve (who I have lost touch with), girl scouts, and shauna who have helped me learn the sign language that I know....What a sweet blessing to give me.

Mount Afajato, round 2!

Sorry this took so long

I havent really had a decent connection in a couple of weeks..... sorry all

7 April 2009
Last Thursday I spent I don’t even know how long trying to send emails and post a blog…. Most of which are lost in the great abyss…
but that is ok, now I have a surprise adventure story for you.

My visa had expired. Couldn’t be helped.  To renew it, you can cross the border and come back, so we planned a trip to Cote d’Ivoire (we would call it the Ivory Coast, but it is much better to use its French name). The main strategy was that if we had trouble re-entering Ghana that we would slide the officials some cash…. Which, I hate to say, is a tactic that is pretty much flawless in West Africa. The other challenges included strategizing travel with some help from guide books, being self-sufficient in a French-speaking country, and… not getting mugged. Many travelers return with stories of small horror and no camera. Nonetheless, we needed to renew our visas and we wanted to be brave but not stupid travelers. Off we went. John, Aubrie, Alyssa, and I.

We made it through a good deal of Ghana before stopping for the night in Axim, where we slept in a quaint and very simple little hotel. We at rice and hard boiled eggs in the street and took showers… that was about all the further we got before we simply fell asleep. In the morning we had toast and egg and tea. A great start. We took a taxi to the border town of Elubo, and along the way we were stopped at a a checkpoint where the guards asked us to marry them. Once in Elubo, the fun really began.  As English and Twi faded into history, we had a somewhat sketchy time actually getting  into Cote d’Ivoire. Safely there, we found a trotro that would take us to Abussio (that cant be spelled right…. ) where we would get a bus to the capital of Abidjan.  Throughout the many checkpoints we went through where we showed our passports, etc, I think it was only this one jaunt from the boarder where we were not proposed to. John, being an African American was likely sick of traveling with white girls after the millionth such happening. He was also probably sick of people thinking he should know for sure how to speak French… since he is black and all. Poor guy, brave guy, guy with the happiest go-lucky attitude ever.  I am going to keep him somehow.
     When we got to Abidjan, we were dropped off in a taxi park that we later learned was probably not the best place for us to have been, but we made a successful walk away from there and into better parts of the city. Abidjan is not a thing like Accra….. it is much slower…. Just different and somehow empty. Beautiful but empty, much like Kigali, Rwanda felt. I truly believe that this is because of the recent conflicts such places have known. There seems to be a haze placed over capitals that are in a deep place of carefully healing. 
    We spent the night in a semi-pricey but safe hotel. We did lots of walking and in the morning we went to Saint Pauls Cathedral (worth a google, but don’t be confused with the one in London) for Palm Sunday (PALM SUNDAY!!!!) We got palms and we experienced Mass in French.  After some more walking we packed up our things and took a taxi which brought us to where we could get a bush taxi to our next stop, Gran (Grand?) Bassam. A bush taxi is a marvelous thing…. It is a station wagon, often white, that is used sort of like a share taxi or a trotro. 8 passengers, sometimes 9, and the driver make their journey together in the bush taxi, stopping now and then to drop a person off who will be quickly replaced by another traveler. Once in Bassam, Alyssa and I found bananas and baguettes with which we made PB&Js. (only the smartest know that bread is cheap and pb and j travel easily. We felt so accomplished and thrifty.)
   Aubrie and John had opted to eat lunch in a restaurant, so Alyssa and I had a little spare time on our hands after eating our sandwiches.  We walked to get sachets of water, and it was just after we had opened them that we noticed the police. Don’t be afraid, they weren’t doing anything. –also common—but they strutted across the street and smiled at us, laughing when they learned that Alyssa spoke limited French and that mine is… well, laughable if existent. Nonetheless, they decided that she and I needed a beer. Really? Yep. To be honest,  maybe we did, haha…. But we certainly didn’t expect to get one like this. So they have us walk across the street and they make paying customers of the chop store get up and move. Alyssa and I are confused by this and we say, no no, stay in your chairs. The customers are all smiles as they move. I don’t know if this is just commonplace or if they were just being smart to adhere to police orders as if it would be their honor to do so.  The same basic confusion/principle/ridiculousness follows when the officers say they want to get us big big beers (a liter), to which we shake our heads and say, oh, just a small one please. We have joined the club of all smiles, partly to hide the “what is going on?” feeling we had. Without any payment, we are kindly served these beers and then the police officers politely flirt until their boss comes in. They had expected him to join in the fun, but he thought it would be more impressive to flex his muscle, so he spent a minute ordering everyone around and then left. The officers came back all smiles still and Alyssa and I faked that we were engaged, they said we needed African husbands, we giggled, and I told Alyssa that I had not gulped down my beer so that she could nicely sip hers, hint hint, haha, and we began our  attempt to leave… which seemed a lot like “baby, its cold outside,” but Alyssa and I are no failures and we made it away without any wedding ceremony. The whole experience was mildly uncomfortable and wildly funny once it was over. Never scary. But I wanted to punch the officer in the nose for being so rude to the couple who gave us their seats and to the owner of the shop who was never paid for the beer. It was time to get closer to the beach.
     We found the place where we would stay.  Little bungalows that were not much, but certainly enough. We spent the afternoon on the beach and headed in well before dark so as to stay safe. Early to bed, early to rise. We spent the morning on the peaceful beach after Alyssa and I went for a walk to get more bread so that the 4 of us could have more PB&J J

Another bush taxi (which at one point held 12 people and a chicken) took us all the way to the border. To our surprise, we crossed without getting in any trouble for our visas (some people have met with icky challenges) and we took one vehicle all the way back to Accra. 14 hours of travel left my stomach in search of ground that wasn’t moving, and one of our group members fell in a gutter soon after we felt we had made it home without casualty, but alas, we made it. 

Perhaps not the most riveting adventure story ever…… but I have just joined the small but growing club of people who have seen Cote d’Ivoire and come back with positive thoughts. Others who weren’t so lucky still say it is worth it, by the way. It is beautiful. We traveled through so much jungle and we crossed so many rivers.

It feels good to be home! Now if it only felt good to know that I should head to class…. 

14 April 2009

So the internet…. Well you know. Anyhow, I have just been saving this on a public computer which I come visit sometimes and then I laugh because I know the internet wont be working. Like now, for example :P

Nonetheless, I wanted to keep writing, so im sorry that this will be so long. I hope you read it in shifts. J

This is actually my last week of real class. Next week is revisions week and then we will have 3 weeks for final examinations. After that I will be here for 2 more weeks and then its home again home again, jiggidy jig.

The plan is to spend as much time at the beacon house as possible and to travel, mostly to the Volta Region, and to spend time with the good friends I have here. The day after I finish my finals, Justin is coming to visit me here, which should be lots of fun. There is plenty of history and foresty stuff for him to play with in Ghana J

I hope you all had a happy Easter. I really loved it. I went to Mass…. And I have no idea why, but the word Hallelujah was always sung in a minor chord and I think the homily was about toilets (im not kidding…….. ask me about that someday if you ever want to know the context). At any rate, it was really odd, and I felt like there was something missing.  What is Easter if we don’t rejoice?
Don’t worry though, even the Church cant stop us from being church. From being community and faith and living fellowship. Let me tell you that we did our very best to prepare a feast to celebrate the day. It seemed almost magical.  No, we didn’t have a ham, but by miracle, Aubrie found cheese slices…. You don’t understand how precious things like cheese are. We made garlic humus and ate it with flatbread, then Alyssa and I spent time turning the little slices of cheese into fabulous grilled cheese sandwiches. We had juice and music and we sat in the grass together. Nothing like a picnic. Alyssa and I had bought fanice (sachet soft serve ice cream) and hidden them in a freezer… so there was a surprise dessert as well.
Not quite Mashed Potatoes and Gravy followed by chocolate bunnies, but I certainly won’t be complaining!

Then, as we planned, 6 of us went to a leprosarium.  We really didn’t know what we were going to be doing there… if we would have conversation or be put to work, but it didn’t matter. Leprosy is something that we never have to think about back home, and when it occurs here, it is quickly treated. Still, there is such a large stigma surrounding it. (thus the P.C. “Hanson’s Disease”) All who live in the community/colony were born in the 1930’s or 1940’s, and one of them has been with the community since it began in 1950. Her name is something like Adobia. She and a man whose name sounds like Agrey spoke good English and taught us so many things….  I cant tell you how good it was to spend the afternoon with them, and I cherish the opportunity. As I am writing, I am just realizing that the day spent there cant really be written down… I hope I get to talk to some of you about it when I get home. I should, however, tell you that they were safe to touch, they were aged and wise, and they were so welcoming and full of hospitality. Agrey only came to the community 3 years ago. He said in the community he is free, that he was not free before, though he had been treated. His hands and feet had been eaten away severely by the bacteria that causes leprosy, but he was clean and proud and he had a great wide smile. I felt about him that I was greeting my own grandfather and not some “rejected” man.  What a day.

As a final part of this entry, I wish I could write about everything that went on at the Beacon House yesterday. I am so happy that that place exists. We have 4 new children who need very much to be spoken tenderly to and to be hugged. Also, I have fallen in love with all these kids, but there is simply one that I want to take home. I know I cant and I am sure that it is normal for volunteers to feel this way… but I just love him. I think he may have a family lined up and I pray and pray and pray that they are lovely and good.  I know that this is the casualty of all love, but my heart will simply tear when I must leave him. Still, so worth it, and I can’t wait to go back again tomorrow.

I send my love!!!!!! (sorry this entry is a bit odd, I feel myself being so overpowered by the things I can’t express…. I hear that this is the place where the Spirit intercedes.)

15 April 2009

Still no use with this computer, but I suppose that that is ok. I just really miss hearing from home, so checking my email would be quite the luxury.  That and I need to get a hold of wellsfargo since my atm card apparently hates me or it hates Africa or something…. Either way, there is hate, and I would like to discuss the importance of being always loving with my bank.

I got up nice and early today and headed to the Beacon House. I love those kids. The new ones just make my heart ache. What a crazy transition. The hokie pokie and Ring around the Rosie were large successes, though they had me worn out before 8:30. Haha. 
last night I spent some time with my dear friend Laura. I cant tell you how much I am going to miss her. She is so lovely……. This far into the trip, my heart strings are doing that whole attachment thing that will get me into trouble and be my greatest reward all at once. I feel the same way about a few others… for example, my dear friend Sami and I walked to the night market to get some food…. We have little Twi jokes –He isn’t Asante, so Twi isn’t his real language, he speaks Ga, but he helps me with my Twi anyhow- and along the way he started humming “don’t worry, be happy” which I then joined in on and before we knew it we were doot-doot-dooting our little hearts out.  He is a semi-rasta beach guy… sweet as can be… and phrases like “don’t worry, be happy now” are certainly a mantra of sorts for him. He says things are fine like fanta, cool like coke, and nice like fanice. I sort of want to just bring him back to the U.S. just because he is simply a bundle of joy, and last time I checked, you don’t need any special permit to carry bundles of joy across the border.

one last little note. Today, while the kids were having snack outside, I went in and found several of the women in the dining room. They looked tired but happy. Knowing that the kids were all being watched in one area, I stopped to talk with them. Mainly because Edna, the cook, was there, and I love her to pieces. Anyhow, she was actually laying on the floor with her legs on a bench because her lower back and legs were hurting. I laid down too, putting my legs up and telling her to watch  my face turn pink. We admired the ceiling and talked about where the children come from and other simple things…. For example, Edna can call an Avocado an avocado or a pear…. But she doesn’t know what a pear is.
so Im going on a pear hunt
           going on a pear hunt
gonna get a big one
gonna get a big one

--- the children and I may on occasion go on bear hunts--- J

Love!