Hellloooo all!
What a week! Phew, I'm so glad it's over.
As the countdown begins to our return to the States, NYU students are dropping like flies. Malaria, respiratory problems, robberies, concussions, typhoid scares, GI issues, flu bugs, strange rashes, meningitis scares--every thing imaginable has hit us all at once. I myself came down with this ridiculous flu that outsmarted every homeopathic trick I had--then proceeded to outsmart every Western medicine trick I had! I was at a loss. In about 2 hours I went from sick to thinking I had strep throat. That turned into flu symptoms after a sleepless night, which then turned into symptoms of a sinus infection. My symptoms changed every 30 minutes on Tuesday and I called into work for my first sick day ever. I was an absolutely miserable mucusy mess. The doctor paid a house visit after a few of the girls had to go to the hospital for respiratory problems and told me that I could develop pneumonia quickly in this part of the world and needed to go on antibiotics. Being onery, I refused. By Wednesday, my "flu" symptoms suddenly went into my chest and I felt the feeling of pneumonia coming on. I decided to give in and take the antibiotics. Of course, the pharmacy was out of my last day's dosage....so I ended up spending WAY more money than I should have :/ But the antibiotics worked like a charm and now I'm suffering from the sniffles and a cough.
That being said, the conference that I was organizing came off yesterday. The conference was geared to be a student discussion on the effectiveness of aid in Africa, based off of the September Aid Effectiveness Conference regarding the Accra Agenda for Action and the Millenium Development Goals. Over the past week, naturally the logistical craze caught up to my team and every thing turned to chaos. Being a complete and utter useless mess, I was pretty sure the conference was going to fail miserably. Half of my team was sick, the other half angry and stressed, our supervisor a complete space cadet, and me hacking through it all. But, I am pleased to say that it was an enormous success. We had about 50+ attendees (non-organizers) which ended up being the perfect size for our small group discussions. The Vice-Provost of NYU attended as well as the Director of our program. While I was running around trying to get every thing running smoothly, I was unable to actually sit in on the group discussions. From what I heard, the discussions were actually very educational and taught both International and Ghanaian students a lot. We ended up getting speakers from the World Bank, UNDP, CARE International, and an NGO. The speakers did a good job, but the discussions were definitely the highlight of the conference.The response was overwhelmingly positive, so I'm pretty happy about it :)
So, not to worry any one, but this past week one of my friends was robbed. We have been warned since day one not to wear our purses diagonally or facing the road...of course, none of us ever listen. Unfortunately, one night walking home from dinner a car came from behind, snatched the purse, and caused her to fall back onto her head. Thankfully the bag's strap ripped so that she wasn't dragged along...also, she did not have very many valuables in her bag. However, 24 hours later she starts vomiting uncontrollably and the hospital here treats her for malaria....yea. We were all pretty pissed that they didn't even know how to diagnose a concussion. At the end of the day she's ok, but we certainly all learned a lesson.
On Monday I changed supervisors. The COP and dCOP had an intervention with me as they had expected way more work from me and had been forwarded my frustrated email from Gigi (my internship professor). I have now taken the lead on data analysis and collection. Of course, then I fell ill. My dad and I had a nice chat about not letting people take advantage of my work ethic...I'm definitely going to have to put that into perspective as finals have begun and the USAID reports are still for an unpaid internship. Sigh. Too much to think about. I really do like working working more than academically working. I think I'll get it done. As long as I don't get sick again!
Other than that, nothing really new to report. I grabbed an ankle in my back bend which gave me a huge feeling of accomplishment :) I'll be returning to the States in 3 weeks. It's either too little time or too much time. I think I either needed to go home a month ago or stay here for another 6....but I guess beggars can't be choosers!
I'm ok with Ghana today. I don't hate being here.
It is, however, getting HOT and HUMID. I thought it was hot and humid when I got here...ha. Ha ha. Funny joke, eh? I will really appreciate being cold and unsweaty. The "hamana" (or whatever it is called) is here--it's when all of the dirt and dust and sands blow into Ghana and linger in the air making it absolutely impossible for the asthmatics among us to live without wheezing, hacking, and getting pneumonia. Superrrrrrrr.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Accra--Workaholic style
Greetings everyone!
It has been awhile, no? In true JS fashion I put too much on my plate and got mixed up in a mumbojumbo of work, school, and social activities. Also, some learning experiences left me a little shell shocked and reflective. Per usual. So I'll summarize.
Things that I'm doing:
Then we have work. Work in general just drives me insane. I'm so tired of being talked down to and constantly being out of the loop. Unless I do things myself or say things in a way that persuade others to actually do their job rather than read the paper, nothing ever happens. It's incredibly frustrating. I like to get things done and I am fairly proactive about doing them. When every one of your supervisors is NOT that way, life can be a little difficult. In a moment of absolute frustration, I decided to write a report on September's data and send it to the Chief of Party without having it approved by my supervisor...not in a brown nosing way, but because that is in my scope of work and it was my job. I couldn't wait for her to open her emails and MAYBE look at it the next week.
The report got great feedback from the Chief of Party and we edited it and sent it off to Nigeria, Senegal, and Washington. Even though my supervisor made me feel like crap after it, I can't help but be a little bit proud.
Anyway. I could go on forever. At the end of the day, I'm really starting to miss my friends and family. This town is like high school and the expats all know every one's business. I don't really like that. I love this country, but I'm starting to think I need some thing less comfortable. I was reading through the devex report on the world and realized that I live in a Ghana bubble. Just because I'm in a developing country doesn't mean that the world has stopped killing itself. Wars, cholera, measles, malnutrition, etc etc etc are still happening and I need to stop living in this fantasy world where every developing country is like Ghana. I let myself get too comfortable.
I miss you all and can't wait to see you in December (Reno) and in January (New York). I can't wait to be cold and get to wear clothes again. I can wait to be homeless and cold in New York in the middle of winter....Regardless, we'll have to have a huge reunion fest to celebrate me actually coming back. It's questionable at times ;)
Love you!!
J
It has been awhile, no? In true JS fashion I put too much on my plate and got mixed up in a mumbojumbo of work, school, and social activities. Also, some learning experiences left me a little shell shocked and reflective. Per usual. So I'll summarize.
Things that I'm doing:
- Organizing a conference to discuss aid effectiveness in Ghana (and the rest of the world) with students from Ashesi, Legon, and NYU. This is coming off November 21...hopefully we pull it together! It is a perfect chance for people (like me) to find out what people living in the developing world (national staff) think--eventually we'll be working together, may as well start learning now!
- Finishing up classes for the semester, writing too many papers, and trying to figure out how to get to an exam on a SUNDAY in November.
- Training new counselors from the National Aids Control Programme for the pilot program I'm working on and trying to launch the third aspect of the program before the end of November
- transferring the data to a new system so that I can actually leave Accra on time.
- Trying to figure out how to only take one undergraduate class next semester and graduate. :)
- Took a trip to Kumasi to see the cultural center, visit the palace of the Ashanti king, and roam through the hectic market
- Spent my fall break here in Accra working...
- Took a trip to Kokrobite beach
- Applied for graduation May 2009
- Gave up dairy (it's a slow process, but quite necessary) (no more chocolate velvet cheesecake...)
- Stopped chewing ice! (why I gave up dairy)
- Attempted to vote in the 2008 election. Let's just say that my ballot didn't arrive until Monday, Washoe county won't return my emails, and the Embassy doesn't really just let you add things to the diplomatic pouch....I voted, but it may not be counted. Sigh. Actually, no, it's a complete conspiracy. They have all of this talk about how they want the youth vote to rise and they want absentees to vote and they're doing every thing they can to have your vote counted--but that's crap. They refuse to send out absentee ballots in a timely manner, they don't accept write ins until 14 days before the election, the Embassy makes you wait in line with the people applying to immigrate just to submit your ballot, and no one answers emails! I did everything right. Conceivably, my vote should get to Washoe county. But it won't. Think about how many people are relying on absentee ballots to vote--it's a complete joke. Sigh.
- went to Aburi gardens yesterday--we ate cinnamon bark, smelled all spice leaves, rubbed some menthol leaves on us, and rode bikes around a village. We had the PERFECT day. We also spent a good amount of time sorting through Halloween's festivities, commiserating on our health, and gorging ourselves on jollof rice and fried chicken. Yum.
- Avoiding any and all political arguments.
Then we have work. Work in general just drives me insane. I'm so tired of being talked down to and constantly being out of the loop. Unless I do things myself or say things in a way that persuade others to actually do their job rather than read the paper, nothing ever happens. It's incredibly frustrating. I like to get things done and I am fairly proactive about doing them. When every one of your supervisors is NOT that way, life can be a little difficult. In a moment of absolute frustration, I decided to write a report on September's data and send it to the Chief of Party without having it approved by my supervisor...not in a brown nosing way, but because that is in my scope of work and it was my job. I couldn't wait for her to open her emails and MAYBE look at it the next week.
The report got great feedback from the Chief of Party and we edited it and sent it off to Nigeria, Senegal, and Washington. Even though my supervisor made me feel like crap after it, I can't help but be a little bit proud.
Anyway. I could go on forever. At the end of the day, I'm really starting to miss my friends and family. This town is like high school and the expats all know every one's business. I don't really like that. I love this country, but I'm starting to think I need some thing less comfortable. I was reading through the devex report on the world and realized that I live in a Ghana bubble. Just because I'm in a developing country doesn't mean that the world has stopped killing itself. Wars, cholera, measles, malnutrition, etc etc etc are still happening and I need to stop living in this fantasy world where every developing country is like Ghana. I let myself get too comfortable.
I miss you all and can't wait to see you in December (Reno) and in January (New York). I can't wait to be cold and get to wear clothes again. I can wait to be homeless and cold in New York in the middle of winter....Regardless, we'll have to have a huge reunion fest to celebrate me actually coming back. It's questionable at times ;)
Love you!!
J
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
a weekend with Habitat and a premature death
Well I certainly had an enlightening, maturing, and "interesting" weekend. This weekend I went to a village outside of Accra to build a home for Habitat for Humanity. There were 30 students, 3 RAs, the Associate Director, and the Director of Community Service. With that much man power, one would expect a lot of work to get done, right?
From my high school years of Mexico trips, I was used to the efficiency of Richard Shaff leading the way, utilizing the most of what little time we had to get the job done. When we built houses, we all had a job and worked until that job was finished. At the end of the day, exhaustion would set in and we would all retire for the night, resting in anticipation for the next productive day. Despite our weary bodies, we would still give it our all.
Well, welcome to the real world, I suppose. Habitat for Humanity is a well known organization. They are international, have projects in the US, and are renown for the "work" that they do. Imagine my thoughts when I realized how disordered and half-hearted this entire project was. As we drove up to the village, I observed the half built houses perched in various corners of the land.
Let me pause by saying this village is like paradise--even though it is literally right off the high way, the village has a sense of seclusion from society. The green is just GREEN, the dirt RED, and the sky a medley of blues and grays. The clouds threatened rain, but we can never tell in this part of the earth. Life was vibrant and the simplicity was just beautiful...I can't wait to show you the photos!
Back to the story. The Habitat people arranged "homestays" for us--we grouped ourselves into four people and marched our way through the village. Every so often Christa (the Associate Director) would yell out "FOUR PEOPLE!" in her ever so grating nasalesque voice and four of us would step forward to drop our stuff off into our new homes. No introduction, no explanation, just a drop off. As we made our way through the village, my group realized that we were the only people with out a home. When we brought this to Christa's attention, she made this confused face and said, "Oh, that's not a problem." The Habitat people didn't look so certain. The four of us followed a boy down a path to a cluster of "houses" and watched him open a door. Christa said that it would be just fine and none of the girls in my group knew what was going on. As far as we were concerned, we were intruding on these people's homes and just wanted to be as little trouble as possible. The room was about 8x10 and was simple as could be--concrete floors, concrete walls, wooden windows on either side and a tin roof. The walls were a beautiful baby blue and the spiders were a deep maroonish red. FYI--they do explode upon impact.
We were told that mattresses would be brought to the room and we left our things to meet up with the rest of the group. As we walked over to our site, we wondered whose room we had taken over and why they had never been introduced to us--we are staying in someone's home, intruding on their daily life, and are expected to be ok with that? All four of us were raised to greet and thank any one who showed us hospitality...the fact that we didn't even have that option was unnerving.
We walked up to the build site to figure out what our job was going to be. There was an existing structure with about 3 rows of bricks. We were to clear land, make bricks, mix concrete, bring the bricks to the site, and add to the foundation. As everyone stood around, I went to figure out how we could get started--we were only scheduled to work for about 4 hours. If we really hustled, we could get a lot done. If we stood around and wasted time, we would get nothing done. Christa immediately picks up a tool and asks if she can help...and proceeds to invent jobs. For the next 4 hours, we cleared land for no apparent reasons, spent our energy ripping out roots and kasava, and poured our sweat into doing made up jobs. I carried bricks on my head and cleared land while other students romped around in a mud pit, attempted to mix the mortar, and pretended to lay bricks. The girls on the program started stripping, the boys wrote all over their bodies, and half of the people stood around doing absolutely nothing. There were a few of us who worked ourselves to exhaustion, but for what? In the end we layed about one line of bricks, made a bunch of "bricks" that were obviously going to fall to pieces the minute they dried, and ended up covered in mud. When the rains started to flood upon our "work," I wanted to cry with exasperation. Why did I give up a weekend of my time to watch students make a fool of themselves? Why did we intrude on this village? Why did we disrupt the lives of these people? What are we trying to prove? That rich American's can prance into a village and "help?"
As my future is in the Non-Profit world, one can only imagine the sense of despair, disappointment, and hopelessness I feel right now. I saw first hand the inefficiency of NGOs in the developing world and it shook me to my very core. Is this the life path that I have chosen? A path of inefficiency, inadequacy, and disaster?
The most enjoyable part of the weekend was playing with some of the kids in the village. As their parents worked from dawn to dusk, the children raised the children--I saw seven year olds who acted like 20 year olds, 13 year olds who paraded around as adults. The facade immediately vanished when they asked us for our empty water bottles...but still. These kids had to grow up so fast.
The rain was relentless and probably ruined any "work" that we had attempted. Our room flooded, but the girls I was with were absolutely amazing. I'm so proud of us. We pooled together our resources and made it work. Our host family couldn't speak to us, but on the way out on Sunday morning we said, " Me da se!" Which means "thank you" in Twi. The woman jumped up and smiled and waved and said "Yoooo!" Despite the language barrier, that one gesture gave me hope that we hadn't intruded too much on their lives.
On Sunday, we had the opportunity to attend church. In a state of complete self-pity, I did not want to go--eventually I heard the service would be in English so I jumped on the bus when I got tired of listening to people complain. Of course, the service was in Twi, but the message is always the same, the actions just a bit different! We definitely did a few rounds of dancing, clapping, and introductions. At one point in time, an elderly woman sang praises--I haven't seen someone with such a genuine glow of happiness in a while. Even as she crawled on the floor, her eyes were filled with joy. I guess that made it all worth it.
On Sunday, I spoke to a little boy about my thoughts. He was a 3rd grader and wanted to get out of Ghana. He studied hard, received good marks, and dreamed of London. He's articulate and wise beyond his years....but he will most likely never leave that village. No matter how well he does in school, his education will not prepare him for the exams that ultimately determine his future. Unless a miracle happens, he will be destined to live the same cycle of his parents, their parents, and their parents. That's the life in the rural village--you wait, and wait, and wait until an opportunity happens to arise. Anyway. I asked him a bit about the Habitat project.
"How often to groups come to help build these houses?"
"Not very often...but hard to say."
"Do groups just show up here and pick up where another group left off?"
"Yes."
"And do these half built structures just sit here waiting for the next group?"
He paused for a moment and looked up at me with an expression I can only describe as resignation.
"Yes."
This confirmed my fears and suspicions. Habitat for Humanity isn't doing squat.
All in all, I'm still trying to come to grips with what happened this weekend. Apologies for such a depressing email.
To make it even more depressing, here's the story of little Shedrack.
Shedrack is Joe's nephew. I work with Joe at SHARP, he's the stats guy. Last Wednesday, Joe and George (another coworker) drove me to my night lecture at Legon as I had to stay at work late to finish up a presentation. Nosey as usual, I eavesdropped on Joe's phone conversation. His sister had taken a job and had placed her 1 year 4 month old son into a creche, a daycare. Wednesday was his first day. Shedrack went missing on Wednesday, and Joe was to go out with a search party. On Thursday they still hadn't found him. On Friday Joe was out of the office. Today I stopped in Joe's office to see if his nephew was ok. He told me to take a seat.
"We found him on Thursday evening..."
"Oh goo--"
"Dead.. Dead dead dead."
"WHAT?! You are joking. Please say you're joking."
"We found him in the bush one kilometre from the creche...dead."
Shedrack, a one year old boy, was found in the bush. An area that had been combed through by over 100 members of the community Wednesday night. He was found with no shoes, no socks, and clean feet. According to the owners of the creche, the creche was locked and he had been on the second floor. Imagine for a moment, a little one year old boy walking down a flight of stairs, opening a gate, and waltzing off into the bush. Exactly.
One of the men who worked at the creche eventually led them to his body. He claimed that he saw the little boy on Wednesday night crying out, "Mamma, mamma" on the side of the road. He claims that he believed the mother was defecating in the bush.
Now. Ghana is a country where a child is raised by the community. Allowing a Ghanaian child to leave Ghana by means of adoption is considered one of the greatest evils. In this community based country, how can a man, who KNEW that this child was missing, drive BY a crying child that he recognized? You've got to be kidding me.
Joe and the rest of the community told the mother that the child had died in the hospital. They couldn't bear to hell her the horrid details.
Tell me, please, tell me why on earth a one year old boy deserved such a horrible demise.
I just can't figure it out. It's times like these that I begin to lose hope in humanity.
Apologies, again, for being such a Debbie Downer.
Despite how disappointed I have been the last few days, by Habitat and by the Ghanaian community, I can't help but see this as an opportunity to DO something about it. I suppose that's what I'll have to do eventually. I can sit and write and complain about this all that I want, I can cry over Shedrack, I can cry over the downward cycle the village kids have been born into, but what GOOD is that going to do?
I hope you all take this to heart. Our lives are so privileged, it's not even funny. We have running water, electricity, bathrooms, and educational opportunities. We don't have to stop work at dusk, we aren't awoken by roosters before day break, and we can afford to procrastinate. When a child goes missing, the search effort is in full force on the police's behalf...they are paid enough to have incentive to do their jobs.
Consider your impact on the lives of others. Believe it or not, your very presence has an impact on another. As Gandhi so famously put, "Be the change you wish to see in the world." I can only hope that I attempt to measure up.
Love to you all,
J
From my high school years of Mexico trips, I was used to the efficiency of Richard Shaff leading the way, utilizing the most of what little time we had to get the job done. When we built houses, we all had a job and worked until that job was finished. At the end of the day, exhaustion would set in and we would all retire for the night, resting in anticipation for the next productive day. Despite our weary bodies, we would still give it our all.
Well, welcome to the real world, I suppose. Habitat for Humanity is a well known organization. They are international, have projects in the US, and are renown for the "work" that they do. Imagine my thoughts when I realized how disordered and half-hearted this entire project was. As we drove up to the village, I observed the half built houses perched in various corners of the land.
Let me pause by saying this village is like paradise--even though it is literally right off the high way, the village has a sense of seclusion from society. The green is just GREEN, the dirt RED, and the sky a medley of blues and grays. The clouds threatened rain, but we can never tell in this part of the earth. Life was vibrant and the simplicity was just beautiful...I can't wait to show you the photos!
Back to the story. The Habitat people arranged "homestays" for us--we grouped ourselves into four people and marched our way through the village. Every so often Christa (the Associate Director) would yell out "FOUR PEOPLE!" in her ever so grating nasalesque voice and four of us would step forward to drop our stuff off into our new homes. No introduction, no explanation, just a drop off. As we made our way through the village, my group realized that we were the only people with out a home. When we brought this to Christa's attention, she made this confused face and said, "Oh, that's not a problem." The Habitat people didn't look so certain. The four of us followed a boy down a path to a cluster of "houses" and watched him open a door. Christa said that it would be just fine and none of the girls in my group knew what was going on. As far as we were concerned, we were intruding on these people's homes and just wanted to be as little trouble as possible. The room was about 8x10 and was simple as could be--concrete floors, concrete walls, wooden windows on either side and a tin roof. The walls were a beautiful baby blue and the spiders were a deep maroonish red. FYI--they do explode upon impact.
We were told that mattresses would be brought to the room and we left our things to meet up with the rest of the group. As we walked over to our site, we wondered whose room we had taken over and why they had never been introduced to us--we are staying in someone's home, intruding on their daily life, and are expected to be ok with that? All four of us were raised to greet and thank any one who showed us hospitality...the fact that we didn't even have that option was unnerving.
We walked up to the build site to figure out what our job was going to be. There was an existing structure with about 3 rows of bricks. We were to clear land, make bricks, mix concrete, bring the bricks to the site, and add to the foundation. As everyone stood around, I went to figure out how we could get started--we were only scheduled to work for about 4 hours. If we really hustled, we could get a lot done. If we stood around and wasted time, we would get nothing done. Christa immediately picks up a tool and asks if she can help...and proceeds to invent jobs. For the next 4 hours, we cleared land for no apparent reasons, spent our energy ripping out roots and kasava, and poured our sweat into doing made up jobs. I carried bricks on my head and cleared land while other students romped around in a mud pit, attempted to mix the mortar, and pretended to lay bricks. The girls on the program started stripping, the boys wrote all over their bodies, and half of the people stood around doing absolutely nothing. There were a few of us who worked ourselves to exhaustion, but for what? In the end we layed about one line of bricks, made a bunch of "bricks" that were obviously going to fall to pieces the minute they dried, and ended up covered in mud. When the rains started to flood upon our "work," I wanted to cry with exasperation. Why did I give up a weekend of my time to watch students make a fool of themselves? Why did we intrude on this village? Why did we disrupt the lives of these people? What are we trying to prove? That rich American's can prance into a village and "help?"
As my future is in the Non-Profit world, one can only imagine the sense of despair, disappointment, and hopelessness I feel right now. I saw first hand the inefficiency of NGOs in the developing world and it shook me to my very core. Is this the life path that I have chosen? A path of inefficiency, inadequacy, and disaster?
The most enjoyable part of the weekend was playing with some of the kids in the village. As their parents worked from dawn to dusk, the children raised the children--I saw seven year olds who acted like 20 year olds, 13 year olds who paraded around as adults. The facade immediately vanished when they asked us for our empty water bottles...but still. These kids had to grow up so fast.
The rain was relentless and probably ruined any "work" that we had attempted. Our room flooded, but the girls I was with were absolutely amazing. I'm so proud of us. We pooled together our resources and made it work. Our host family couldn't speak to us, but on the way out on Sunday morning we said, " Me da se!" Which means "thank you" in Twi. The woman jumped up and smiled and waved and said "Yoooo!" Despite the language barrier, that one gesture gave me hope that we hadn't intruded too much on their lives.
On Sunday, we had the opportunity to attend church. In a state of complete self-pity, I did not want to go--eventually I heard the service would be in English so I jumped on the bus when I got tired of listening to people complain. Of course, the service was in Twi, but the message is always the same, the actions just a bit different! We definitely did a few rounds of dancing, clapping, and introductions. At one point in time, an elderly woman sang praises--I haven't seen someone with such a genuine glow of happiness in a while. Even as she crawled on the floor, her eyes were filled with joy. I guess that made it all worth it.
On Sunday, I spoke to a little boy about my thoughts. He was a 3rd grader and wanted to get out of Ghana. He studied hard, received good marks, and dreamed of London. He's articulate and wise beyond his years....but he will most likely never leave that village. No matter how well he does in school, his education will not prepare him for the exams that ultimately determine his future. Unless a miracle happens, he will be destined to live the same cycle of his parents, their parents, and their parents. That's the life in the rural village--you wait, and wait, and wait until an opportunity happens to arise. Anyway. I asked him a bit about the Habitat project.
"How often to groups come to help build these houses?"
"Not very often...but hard to say."
"Do groups just show up here and pick up where another group left off?"
"Yes."
"And do these half built structures just sit here waiting for the next group?"
He paused for a moment and looked up at me with an expression I can only describe as resignation.
"Yes."
This confirmed my fears and suspicions. Habitat for Humanity isn't doing squat.
All in all, I'm still trying to come to grips with what happened this weekend. Apologies for such a depressing email.
To make it even more depressing, here's the story of little Shedrack.
Shedrack is Joe's nephew. I work with Joe at SHARP, he's the stats guy. Last Wednesday, Joe and George (another coworker) drove me to my night lecture at Legon as I had to stay at work late to finish up a presentation. Nosey as usual, I eavesdropped on Joe's phone conversation. His sister had taken a job and had placed her 1 year 4 month old son into a creche, a daycare. Wednesday was his first day. Shedrack went missing on Wednesday, and Joe was to go out with a search party. On Thursday they still hadn't found him. On Friday Joe was out of the office. Today I stopped in Joe's office to see if his nephew was ok. He told me to take a seat.
"We found him on Thursday evening..."
"Oh goo--"
"Dead.. Dead dead dead."
"WHAT?! You are joking. Please say you're joking."
"We found him in the bush one kilometre from the creche...dead."
Shedrack, a one year old boy, was found in the bush. An area that had been combed through by over 100 members of the community Wednesday night. He was found with no shoes, no socks, and clean feet. According to the owners of the creche, the creche was locked and he had been on the second floor. Imagine for a moment, a little one year old boy walking down a flight of stairs, opening a gate, and waltzing off into the bush. Exactly.
One of the men who worked at the creche eventually led them to his body. He claimed that he saw the little boy on Wednesday night crying out, "Mamma, mamma" on the side of the road. He claims that he believed the mother was defecating in the bush.
Now. Ghana is a country where a child is raised by the community. Allowing a Ghanaian child to leave Ghana by means of adoption is considered one of the greatest evils. In this community based country, how can a man, who KNEW that this child was missing, drive BY a crying child that he recognized? You've got to be kidding me.
Joe and the rest of the community told the mother that the child had died in the hospital. They couldn't bear to hell her the horrid details.
Tell me, please, tell me why on earth a one year old boy deserved such a horrible demise.
I just can't figure it out. It's times like these that I begin to lose hope in humanity.
Apologies, again, for being such a Debbie Downer.
Despite how disappointed I have been the last few days, by Habitat and by the Ghanaian community, I can't help but see this as an opportunity to DO something about it. I suppose that's what I'll have to do eventually. I can sit and write and complain about this all that I want, I can cry over Shedrack, I can cry over the downward cycle the village kids have been born into, but what GOOD is that going to do?
I hope you all take this to heart. Our lives are so privileged, it's not even funny. We have running water, electricity, bathrooms, and educational opportunities. We don't have to stop work at dusk, we aren't awoken by roosters before day break, and we can afford to procrastinate. When a child goes missing, the search effort is in full force on the police's behalf...they are paid enough to have incentive to do their jobs.
Consider your impact on the lives of others. Believe it or not, your very presence has an impact on another. As Gandhi so famously put, "Be the change you wish to see in the world." I can only hope that I attempt to measure up.
Love to you all,
J
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