Two Years

Today is the two year mark from when I joined the Peace Corps. It is crazy to think back of all the ups and downs that have happened during this journey. I can think back to different time periods of my service. The beginning I was so positive, seeing sunshine and rainbows. I integrated really well into the community. I visited people all the time and put myself out there trying to get to know the community members. Then came my excitement to start projects time, full of ideas and expectations. Then came the disappointment period, project failures and people lying to my face who I had thought were my favorite people in the village. The constant laughing at my expense started to wear on me. Then was my miserable period, questioning why I was here and if anyone in the village actually cared if I stayed. Then I visited home and was reminded that I have loving family and friends, with a lot of support for me. Following my return to Ghana was my depression time and unhappiness with people shouting at me all the time. There is a blurred line between this time period and the numbness period. The numbness came from living with a dull spirit, lowered expectations but still making a huge effort to try and accomplish something. Then came the beekeeping group time! My one functional group, started from the ground up, given total ownership over themselves, my pride and joy. Just having one project finally go right really boosted my morale and gave me something to do. That time period has come to a close, and now I am in the not much to do but also trying to make sure I don’t forget anything that I want to do before I leave. I leave the village in 37 days. I want to get pictures of me with my favorite people, print them, and give them a copy. When I think about who these people are though it adds up to over a hundred people…it’s a daunting project. It is also rainy season which makes the weather great right now but makes it hard to do things in the afternoon. I hope I can get it all done in time. I will leave too soon.

So...two long years.

 Two years of heat.

Two years of sweating.

Two years of bug bites.

Two years of no electricity.

Two years of squatting.

Two years of stooping.

Two years of body aches.

Two years of noise.

Two years of anti-malarial medication.

Two years of instant coffee.

Two years of seeing my little sister poop in the yard.

Two years of having a phone doctor.

Two years of freedom.

Two years of time.

Two years of no craft beer.

Two years of no hugs.

Two years of being itchy.

Two years of dirty feet.

Two years of fufu.

Two years of spicy hot food.

Two years of bad smells.

Two years of no new music.

Two years of being the minority.

Two years of being looked at.

Two years of eating with my hands.

Two years of sunshine.

Two years of funny children.

Two years of effort.

Two years of challenge.

Two years of the little things that count.

Two years.

In other news I am really disgusted with my morning oatmeal these days. First I bought a bag and it had obviously been stored next to mothballs. It smelled, and tasted of moth balls. It was all I had for breakfast though and tried to drown it out with cinnamon to no avail. I was committed enough to air it out with several bowls and it actually lost the smell and flavor by the time I reached the end of the bag. Yay! But then I bought another bag from a different place. When I opened it and poured it into a ziplock bag a lot of the oats stuck to the sides of the bag because of something that looked like spiderwebs. I threw those away but seriously these gross spiderweb things are all up in my oatmeal and it is all I have for breakfast until I go to town again and so this morning I tried to pick them all out and eat the oats that don’t have that on them. Ghana has really taught me how disgusting I can be in terms of what I eat. Maybe this is a sign I should switch off the oats for a while…

Ok lastly I want to elaborate on something I posted as a facebook status. Pregnancy in the village. So many women have been pregnant since I've been here. This isn't like the million people in my news feed posting pictures of babies and baby bumps. This is different from back home. The people I went to high school or college with posting pictures of babies is not shocking because they are at a point in their lives where it is normal to be doing that. Those pictures make me feel like I’m in the minority, because I am nowhere near ready to have children, nor do I even have a boyfriend. People are posting pictures showing clever pregnancy announcements with their faces shining brightly with anticipation for this next part of their lives. They’re posting pictures of their baby bump, showing it off with their hand tenderly placed on the womb. Now here’s the contrast: Women in the village do not plan their pregnancies. I have seen 17 year olds bring forth and I’ve seen old ladies nursing. Getting pregnant is just a part of life here, for a woman. So many babies have been born in the village since I’ve been here. I keep seeing more new pregnant women. It is shocking to me. They don’t use any type of birth control. They don’t tell anyone when they are pregnant. They wear their clothes differently and some can even hide the fact that they are pregnant up to the time they give birth. I am pretty sure my host mom is pregnant right now and my feelings are a little bit hurt she hasn’t told me. That is where I can see our cultures colliding. I don’t know the appropriate way to ask. What makes me wonder even more is that her husband had said that three children was enough for him, when I asked him a long time ago if they wanted to have more. (At that long time ago She had said that adding a boy would be nice). I guess the shocking thing is the short time that I have been here and how many of my friends and neighbors have been pregnant, old and young. They can’t even go two years without having a baby. Is that what it means to be a woman in Ghana? I just can’t imagine going through life getting pregnant all the time with no second thoughts. It seems as though they don’t even have control over their own bodies. I don’t mean to sound like its bad to get pregnant. They see every baby as a blessing and probably like getting pregnant. I am just blown away by the lack of planned pregnancies. And I’m writing this to try and capture the moment when it really hit me. You can read that people here get pregnant at inconvenient times in their lives and don’t plan their babies, but you don’t fully realize the extent of it until you see it yourself. At least I didn’t.