Rainy Season

Last weekend was definitely a slow one. Supposedly, we were going to a monkey sanctuary on Saturday but that didn't work out because it rained for eight hours. When it rains here, all operations shut down and people take cover. In America, life would carry on normally with a few sprinkles on your shoulders, while everything here is put on hold. Before the flash floods started, however, I explored more parts of Abuakwa. Going off the main road to Kumasi, I delved into the red dirt streets where crowded shops, colorful markets and rambunctious kids packed the road. Often I debate in my mind if I could take home either the sounds or smells of Africa, which would it be? It's hard to decide. In a typical day I hear babies screaming, obruni chants, drums banging, oversized trucks honking and pentacostal tongues babbling, while I'll smell banku steaming, canned fish at every corner, sewage and nose-clogging pollution. Such a toss-up.

Anyways, Saturday afternoon I bought some kente cloth for only 5 cedi. I was tempted to purchase the cloth that had guilding on it until I found out it was 25 cedi. Of course, I would like the most expensive option but I rationalized this time. Nana Opoku's wife Rebecca has a tailoring company, so she will make me a traditional dress out of the material I bought. As of now, I don't plan on wearing it at home but maybe I'll slip it on for our closing ceremony here or something of the sort.

Sunday I went to the Catholic church with some of the student teachers who I've befriended here. The service was nice, but I couldn't quite follow anything since it was in Twi. I just remember a lot of dancing and drums that helped keep me awake. The rest of the day was slow. We watched some Disney movies, since Elliott brought about 30 of them to donate to the library. Later, though, Elliott, Laura and I went to the only hotel in town to meet up with some Americans we had met earlier. They were able to get us in to use the hotel pool, which was very refreshing just surreal. Our new American friends happened to be all black too, so Laura and I were the only obruni looking people there. Ghanians do not know how to swim, but they do like to wear transparent bathing suits, do belly flops on you, chicken fight and belligerently splash you just for the heck of it. The three of us didn't stay too long, but we invited the other Americans to come to the Manyhea library one day and meet the kids we tutor.

The Asenemaso school is basically a zoo right now. There is never any method to the madness. Next week is some type of cultural festival so they are dropping all education to prepare for that. Teachers are in meetings all day so they leave their students to roam the school, while student participants in the festival practice their drumming and singing. Last Friday, they even pulled kids out of class for the day to help weed the surrounding fields and decorate the school grounds. We, or at least Lorna and I, still attempt to teach amidst the loudness. I just know the kids would hate to miss an exciting chapter of the Boxcar Children.

I had a great day at the library today! Finally, I helped some boys who really were interested in learning to read rather than speeding through a book. This one boy, Emmanuel, immediately called me over saying, "You. Come here. I don't know how to read so teach me." He was capable, just slow. I told him if he had trouble with a word to try breaking it up into syllables and pronouncing those. He caught on quickly and was able to remember the corrections I gave him. He even explained the stories back to me after we finished reading them. It really made my day to meet a kid who was so thankful to have someone to read with.

While leaving the Manhyea library today, another downpour sneaked up on us. Diana, Elliott, and some of the kids and I had just spotted a rainbow when the first drops fell. The rain arrives too quickly to make it home in time so we took shelter in an abandoned building near the road. The building was going to be a hotel, but like many other times funds ran short, and it never made it past the cement stage. Families and stragglers actually moved into the building to set up temporary homes, so there are sporadic clothes lines and fragments of blankets and furniture around. The handful of us ran to the top floor and got a great view of the storm rolling in over the skyline of giant African trees. We were stuck there for about an hour, so the kids taught us a few dancing games. It took me a minute to get the odd rythym down but soon Diana and I got it. Their dancing is innocently provocative. Some of the moves of one game were emulations of a man paying for a prostitute, oddly. Others, however, were not so promiscuous. It's just funny to see kids as young as six mastering all these moves.