On Optimism

Change is natural, essential, and one of the most dependable things in life.  But at the time, it can be so fucking difficult (excuse my language, but it was the best word to convey the appropriate magnitude). Difficult changes: moving away from your hometown in the middle of middle school, graduating from high school and leaving the comforts of your parents’ home, graduating from college and leaving the bubble of passionate student groups and summer breaks, breaking up with your significant other and missing the security, losing your job, losing your spouse, losing your child, losing your love. That’s fucking scary.

So if you’re thinking, wait, isn’t this supposed to be about optimism?, don’t worry. I’m getting there.

My friend Madeline was an excellent trumpet player.  From the moment she buzzed her lips in a trumpet mouthpiece in fifth grade, she was a trumpet player.  She accompanied the sixth grade choir’s version of What a Wonderful World, battled me every week in middle school band for the acclaimed first chair position, outplayed high school seniors for solos as a mere freshman, belted high notes, danced through technical licks, caressed sweet melodies, and truly loved to play her horn.  Madeline played in symphonic band, jazz band, the Kalamazoo Junior Symphony Orchestra, pit bands, Funktion, solo and ensemble, Band of America camps. Rich with brassy red passion, she was a trumpet player.

After high school, Western Michigan University’s music school accepted Madeline to study jazz trumpet performance.  She excelled through musical theory and music history classes while spending hours shedding in Dalton practice rooms, rehearsing with jazz ensembles, and playing for private lessons with jazz trumpet PhDs. Madeline, the trumpet player.

But after a year in Western’s music school, Madeline suddenly began experiencing intense nerve pain in her jaw.  She couldn’t press her horn to her lips without shooting pains.  Her doctor prescribed no more trumpet playing.

I remember when Madeline told me that she could no longer play the trumpet.  We sat in her car outside the barn at the Black Hawk Inn in Richland, about to listen to open mic slam poetry.  “…so I can’t play my trumpet for more than 10 minutes at a time anymore…” she said.  From my perspective, this proclamation seemed as debilitating to Madeline as loosing ones legs or eyesight.  Madeline was a trumpet player; how could she be without her trumpet? 

But when her path suddenly dead-ended at the water’s edge, Madeline looked around.  She didn’t try to continue running through the water, clinging to the beach.  She dove into something new, she swam, she paddled, and she found new joy.  Around the same time that Madeline had to stop playing her trumpet, she fell in love with one of her English classes at Western.  The professor, impressed with Madeline’s writing and literature analysis, became a mentor and helped Madeline pursue another passion: English*.  Now—not to make this seem too much like a fairytale “happily ever after”—Madeline is studying to get her masters and possibly her PhD in English at Ohio State University.  (If this really were a fairytale she never would have chosen to become a Buckeye—haha)

OK, I don’t want to pretend that Madeline didn’t (and doesn’t) mourn the loss of trumpet playing.  But her example teaches me the spirit of optimism.

Unpredictable changes happen (that’s the only predictable thing in life, right?)  To me, optimism is facing change and not dwelling in fear or regret but welcoming all of the endless possibilities waiting beyond.  My yoga instructor Jasprit taught that chardi kala (boundless optimism) is a lightness of spirit.  Chardi kala is letting go of your attachment to ideas, objects, and passions; feeling comfortable with the fact that these things can change; and feeling limitless in the possibilities that change can create. I want to honor and thank Madeline.  I so admire your openness and fearlessness in the face of change.

(* “English” isn’t really the most accurate word to describe Madeline’s field of study; it’s just convenient.  She studies literary works that are by no means limited to the influences and language of English culture. Madeline could say much more on this topic.)

My next yogi advent topic is peace.  When I first think about peace, the images that come to mind are doves and peace signs.  I think of quiet, tranquility, and calm. Is that peace?

Last night my former roommate from U of M, Janine, visited DC with a friend of hers from graduate school.  Both Janine and her friend are in a program at the University of South Florida in which they take environmental engineering classes on campus for 2 semesters and then complete their masters research while abroad with PeaceCorps.  I think they have a different definition of peace than “quiet, tranquility, and calm.” 

It was fitting that I accompanied these PeaceCorps candidates to check out the MLK Memorial (referenced in my October post) last night.  The memorial is a 30-foot statue of MLK, flanked with a wall of quotes from Dr. King.  I will leave you with this quote from the wall, “True peace is not merely the absence of tension: it is the presence of justice." (16 April 1963, Birmingham, AL)

As always, I love to hear your thoughts and feedback. 

With love,

Codi

 Here are the PeaceCorp girls with MLK.

On Joy

 Prelude: I have to admit that I am nervous to post this.  I worry that it is lame, cheesy, and too “mushy” for a blog.  Well, maybe it is, oh well.  Here goes week one of Yogi Advent: Joy.

Joy has challenged me much more than I anticipated.  At first, I couldn’t narrow my concept of joy.  Everything seemed to bring a smile to my face: sunshine, 3-year-olds graduating to the “big girl swing,” phone conversations with friends, mid-morning coffee, Christmas lights and paper snowflakes in my window (see the picture below).  The more I thought about joy, however, I kept circling back to the many moments that have not been so joyful.   I thought about the inevitable lows in the middle of workweeks at the office, the stressful moments between the blissful bubble of Ann Arbor and “the real world,” and the grief of loss.  

 

Memory makes me think that joy was easier once.  I was so joyful as a little kid in elementary with nothing to worry about, so joyful  graduating from high school and starting undergrad with only possibilities ahead.  Have I lost my knack for joy?  But I know my memory is dishonest.  I cram the sorrows into a tiny box and give ample space to the laughter and joy.  Every time of my life has held both joy and sorrow.  My friend Robbie sent a poem by Khalil Gibran this week about the balance of joy and sorrow, and I’d like to share it here.

Joy and Sorrow Chapter VIII

By Khalil Gibran

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Thank you so much Robbie.  I am still learning to embrace my sorrows as deeply as my joys.  Or maybe I need to re-frame my concept of sorrow all together.  I think the balance of joy and sorrow is more real than a fantasy of finding perpetual joy (which for some reason I always desired…where ever did I get this idea of a static “happily ever after”?). 

I love this excerpt from a novel by Terry Tempest Williams: “…we hold the moon in our bellies.  It is too much to ask to operate on full moon energy three-hundred and sixty-five days a year.”  Part of me wishes I could experience the glow of a full moon’s joy every day:  I want to laugh, smile, and entertain friends all of the time.  But this joy would be empty without understanding the quiet darkness of a new moon night.

As my joys and sorrows wane and wax, I still want to take a moment to celebrate pure joy here in this post.  I loved the quote from Jose, that joy is what makes our hearts fully alive.  I found that one of the things that makes my heart most alive is singing (just like my Grandma Lois singing “I’ve got joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart J).  So I will conclude with lessons of joy that I have learned from singing: 

1. Open.  I open my mouth, my throat, and my lungs to let in the air and also let out my song.  I am as open as a child who has not yet learned self-consciousness, fearless of any judgment from listeners or self-criticism.  The song opens my heart and lifts my emotions into the world.  This openness brings me joy.
2. Create. I can create beauty with the air I breathe, the power in my belly, and the stream of my melody.  It is empowering to turn my emotions into bouncy love songs, reverent hymns, and jazzy ballads.  Sometimes I like to hum aimlessly without lyric or rhythm, just to release.  Feeling my own creation resonate through my body also brings me joy.
3. Share.  When others join my song it is like a relationship, we listen and we compromise.  We combine the rich low tones and floating high notes with the juicy inner harmonies.  And we connect.  My yoga teacher, Jasprit, taught the concept of Ik onkar, oneness.  To me, Ik onkar realizes the connection of all atoms, every object, and every form of life.  And it celebrates the connection between every person: we all have fear and love that we need to express.  Singing together expresses this oneness.  The connection as voices sing in harmony, the shared openness, and the combination of many voices in one song, is one of my greatest joys.

I am continuing my Yogi Advent and this week I am focusing on Hope and Optimism.  Thank you so much to everyone who offered their thoughts on joy during this past week. Please continue to share your quotes, poems, songs, and experiences of hope this week; it is so wonderful to hear from all of you.

With love,

Codi

Re-connections and Yogi Advent

 Hello all,

I can’t believe how much time has passed since my last update!  Good gracious!   

The past couple months have been full of "re-connections."  At the end of October, I met up with friends from both high school and college with a spontaneous trip to New York City.  I survived an epic bus ride through the blizzard and met up with Kristine at Penn Station. Like true Michiganders, Kristine and I trekked to Times Square and the Highline despite the falling snow and inches of slush on the sidewalks.  Later that evening Kristine and I joined Steve and Jeff and enjoyed a beautiful performance by the Hillary Reynolds Band (they just released an album—check out their website!)

In November, the re-connections continued with my former roommate Emily.  Emily works for a software consulting company in Chicago, but she was assigned to work with a client in DC.  The fabulous result: Emily now spends Monday-Friday in the District every week!  So far we have met up once a week after work, eaten fun Peruvian and Thai dinners, indulged in chocolate treats, and spent hours exploring the neighborhoods of DC.  Spending time with Emily feels like home.  I love seeing her, and it’s wonderful to find (and create) home here in DC.

Although DC is finding its way into my heart, I will always relish returning to my first home--Michigan.  I flew home for Thanksgiving this year and had another set of wonderful re-connections.  During my visit, I gathered briefly with the “Sophisticats” (a group of high school friends) and met some of my U of M friends for sweet potato pancakes in Detroit.  I also shared a wonderful Thanksgiving feast with my Snyder relatives on Thursday and then celebrated my grandparents’ 80^th birthdays with Snyder and Sheffield relatives on Saturday.  The Snyder family has so many things to celebrate this year: my cousin Ben won an engineering competition sponsored by Stryker (his WMU team beat several Big Ten schools—including my alma mater!), my aunt was selected to direct the Grand Rapids Sweet Adelines chorus (an acclaimed women’s barbershop chorus), my (almost) cousin Sara just received her associates degree, my sister SarahLiz has become quite a long distance runner (and is looking fabulous!), and I am so grateful that my grandparents are so happy and healthy as they enter their 80^th years of life.

Thanksgiving came and went so quickly this year.  It was wonderful, but between the reunions and travel, I didn’t spend a lot of time reflecting on gratitude or getting into the holiday spirit.  So I have a new project for December, which I have decided to call “Yogi Advent.”  Loosely based on my sparse knowledge of Christianity’s advent, my Yogi Advent will focus on four Christmas-y themes during these four weeks preceding Christmas.  Maybe this is kind of hokey, but I want to dedicate my yoga practice to each week’s theme and journal to further explore and embrace how it fits in my life.

This week I am focusing on Joy. 

Joy is defined (by various online dictionaries) as the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune, or by the prospect of possessing what one desires. 

Joy is delight: extreme satisfaction, bliss: perfect happiness, and gaiety: light-heartedness, merriment, and vivacity.

Joy is feeling rich with the gifts you already have, joy is laughing out loud, joy is colorful and playful, joy is uninhibited song and dance.

I would love to share my “Yogi Advent” with all of you, if you’ll humor me. Please share (post a comment!): How do you define joy? What brings you joy? Any poems, songs, YouTube clips or pictures? I plan to post more of my own reflections on joy later this week.

Sending love--and joy!

C#

DC Moment

 Hello all! I hope this post finds you well.

This Sunday, I had a DC moment that I want to share with you all (wow, this ended up being a long DC moment, but I hope you enjoy it). For me, it was meaningful and uplifting and purely delightful.

My day started rather early (6 AM), and I made my way into the city to run the Boo Run for renal cancer—my first 10K. Although I had signed up somewhat spontaneously with a friend from ICF, Justin, I couldn’t have picked a better day and place to run.  The course bordered a little peninsula along the Potomac so throughout the race I enjoyed views of the early sun sparkling on the river, the moon setting above Virginia, and the Washington monument triumphantly poised beyond the finish line.  I spent my run thinking about SarahLiz, who inspired me to start running this summer, and my cousin, Skyler, who would have celebrated her 18^th birthday last Friday. It was very meditative.

After the race, Justin and I meandered a few blocks over to join the growing throng by the memorials. I don’t know how widely the news has spread, but—as of this summer—there is new memorial on the Mall. This memorial breaks the precedents of the other memorials commemorating past (white) US presidents; it is dedicated to Martin Luther King.  Although the memorial was completed in August, hurricane Irene postponed the official dedication ceremony until last weekend.  So Justin and I thought, Why not? Let’s check it out.  

As we merged into the crowd, Justin and I became aware of our race. Being a minority doesn’t make me quite as uncomfortable as it may have once, perhaps Ghana softened that edge, but it still challenges me.  It heightens my sensitivity to my clothes, my speech patterns, my hair.  And I think the experience is invaluable for me in all my white-ness.

White, black, purple or polka dotted, we were all welcomed on the lawn the Mall—they even gave us Tommy Hilfiger baseball caps: “Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial: Celebrate the Life, Dream, Legacy.”  Most of us stood, although some families and elderly came prepared with blankets, picnics, and folding chairs, and we watched the distant stage (and projections on video screens) as speaker after speaker shared their hopeful, inspirational, and commemorative words. 

John Lewis, a Representative for the state of Georgia, is the only person still alive who spoke alongside King on the day of his “I have a dream…” speech. It gave me chills to hear his voice and stand so close to the reflecting pool where those iconic speeches once rang.  Lewis said he is repeatedly asked if Obama’s election as president fulfilled King's dream. His answer: “it's just a down payment.”

Actress Cicely Tyson, spoke about passing the torch onto the next generation, and then invited twelve-year-old actress Amandla Stenberg to speak.  “You see, in Zulu, Amandla’s name means power,” Cicely said.  Amandla lived up to her name with a tribute to the four young girls, killed in the 1963 church bombing of Birmingham, Alabama.  I must admit, I got choked up as Amandla said, “They’re lives were too short, but as Dr. King said, ‘They lived meaningful lives.’ I intend to live a meaningful life too.”

Then Aretha Franklin stepped up to the microphone! She sang Precious Lord—a song, she said, that MLK often requested.  Her voice resonated on the Mall without ostentation, glowing from a deep reverent place.  (Need I say goosebumps?)

As each of the speakers and performers inspired and touched me, the crowd’s energy lifted me in equal measure.  They cheered their approval as MLK’s son, Martin Luther King III, supported the “occupy” economic movement; they quoted the Bible references along with Reverend Al Sharpton; and then they began to chant: “Four more years! Four more years! Four more years!” And I knew who our next speaker would be…

I got to hear OBAMA!  Despite my almost-opportunities to hear President Obama speak at U of M’s and the Kalamazoo Central’s 2010 commencements, I had never witnessed him live. Obama did not disappoint.  His speech honored MLK’s humanity: his flaws and challenges that don’t appear in the 30-foot stone statute made in his likeness. Despite these personal and political setbacks, MLK used courage, faith, and peace to cope.  Obama credited Dr. King for paving his way to the Presidency of the United States.

DC moment: spontaneous trip to the mall, amazing political and civil rights speakers, a quick visit with the President and his family.  These moments make me remember that I am in our country’s capital.

Sending my love,

C#

PS. Work picked up a lot this week! A really engaging project is just starting up right now analyzing the ecological and health effects of pharmaceuticals in our drinking water.

 

September Snapshots

 Hello all! Happy September! There was actually a chill in the air here yesterday: the first wonderful hints of fall.  I can't believe I have already been here for three weeks already.  Here's a picture-studded post to fill you all in on my latest adventures. 

September finds me much more at home in my new apartment, city, and job. I have all of my furniture finally, and it feels good connect some of my old things with this new place.  Here’s the virtual tour:  

My bedroom

The delightfully spacious kitchen!

The living room, refulgent with afternoon sunlight. The window/doors in the back are my favorite place to sit and read, journal, eat breakfast, and check email (I’m actually looking out as I type right now.)

The dining room (our table barely fill the space!)

In addition to nesting within my apartment, I continue to explore in wider circles around my area. SarahLiz and her college roommate Emily visited over Labor Day weekend and helped me venture into DC. (The picture below shows .)  We watched to U of M vs. WMU football game* among tons of maize-and-blue clad wolverine fans at a Michigan bar in the city (it felt almost as good as walking down State street to the stadium…).  On Sunday we tasted samples of peaches, tomatoes, hummus and salsa at Eastern Market (a year round indoor and outdoor farmer’s and flea market in DC).  With our produce purchases, we ended up cooking a delicious peach-tomato-goat-cheese pizza!

Emily and Sarah at my nearest metro stop—Braddock Station

SarahLiz adding goat cheese

The perfect little housewife...haha

 

My DC explorations continued last weekend with a visit from my high school (KAMSC) friend, Bri.  Bri just started her PhD studies in Chemistry at the University of Virginia this year, so she is only about a two-hour drive away from DC! During our afternoon in the city, Bri and I ate empanadas, explored the Museum of Unnatural History, experienced a brilliant restaurant called Founding Farmers, and saw the President! OK, so we didn’t actually see Barack, but we saw his car and convoy driving out of the white house and had to take a walking detour because all of the roads and sidewalks near the white house were blocked off for about 30 minutes after he departed. (For security reasons, it surprised Bri and I that Obama was actually in the city that day because it was September 11^th.) 

Julia's Empanadas - yum!

Explorers of the Museum and Unnatural History

Bri and I at Baracky's house!

Work is going really well so far. The first two weeks were slow (I spent my hours doing online Excel trainings, toxicology tutorials, and watching “webinars” about software that calculates “Benchmark Dose Levels” for toxic chemicals). This past week, however, I actually got some projects to work on: I kept busy looking up coordinates of ethanol refineries on GoogleEarth, compiling references about potential consequences of occupational exposures to nanoparticles, and summarizing articles about effects of naturally occurring asbestos exposure…it’s an eclectic mix, but I’m already learning new details about each topic. It feels great to have more purpose in my workday.

The best part about the office is definitely the people.  Last Wednesday Amy (my roommate) and I organized a dinner party and invited all of the other research assistants from work.  I thought that maybe 5 or 6 of them would actually attend, but we ended up having 19 people come! Can you believe it? I have friends! We made several varieties of pot stickers (which is a type of Chinese dumpling) including mushroom-cabbage, tofu, spinach-feta, pork, butternut squash-beet, and even nutella-strawberry! Everyone contributed a different filling and then we assembled and cooked together. I had some great conversations: Justin and I reminisced about Ghana because he was also there over this past summer; Paula told me fun about coffee shops and music venues to explore in DC; and Alison and I really open up talking about our families and our experiences moving away from home.  Overall, the dinner party was quite a hit—I hope we started a trend.

I am really glad that Amy and I were brave enough to host our coworkers (planning a party can be stressful).  I feel so lucky that I am finding so many wonderful people to connect with.  The more leaps I take to get together with and talk to new people, the more I begin to feel at home here.  I've been resonating on this connection: Courage = Trust = Openness.  In a way, each requires the other and they are all the same.  I am trying to embrace all three.

   

Good food, good people, a good place to be.  Everyday has certainly not felt as bright as these highlights (there have been some lonely, homesick lows too), but in general, I’m feeling very happy here.

I hope that you are living healthfully and joyfully.  I love you all!

C#

*No, I didn’t watch the U of M vs. Notre Dame game—Gahhh, I can’t believe I missed it! I decided to be social and go out with some friends from work instead. However I have heard and read ample highlights: what an amazing game! Go Blue!

Weathering the Quakes and Storms

Greetings from Alexandria, Virginia!

I can’t believe it’s already the end of August! My blog is jumping straight from Ghana to Virginia. Luckily for me, I had a luxurious break to enjoy Michigan between these moves. I spent the past 6 weeks dancing to live music at Bells Brewery, visiting Emily and SarahLiz in Chicago, playing BananaGrams with the Sophisticats up north, eating my uncle Chris’s delightful tomatoes at Rocky’s campground, doing Russa yoga in Ann Arbor, and water skiing on Gull Lake.

I arrived in Virginia Wednesday evening, after spending Monday night with Zac and Becca in Oberlin and Tuesday with Madeline in Columbus, Ohio on my way. I thought the 7.5-hour drive by myself would be torture, but the changing landscapes were gorgeous and instead of lonely, I felt meditative and empowered. I coasted down the rolling hills for hours in my red Toyota Corolla singing Old Crow Medicine Show, Ingrid Michaelson, and Next to Normal.

Arriving in Alexandria, the magnitude of the distance hit me. The highways, the aggressive traffic, the high rises and polluted air seemed so far away from Michigan. I nearly had a breakdown that first night. Virginia seems to reflect the tumult of my life: within the space of a week the state is getting quaked, shaken, and blown about by a level 5 earthquake and now hurricane Irene. (As I type, my new roommate, Amy, and I are sitting in our cozy living room watching Irene blow in—we’re actually kind of excited for a good storm and an excuse to spend a lazy Saturday indoors).

However, as Irene still approaches, I feel much more optimistic about my new job, apartment, and life here in Virginia. I spent the past few days exploring the grocery stores, gelato shops, and yoga studios in the area. Yesterday I ran down to a neighborhood called “Old Town” and walked along the Potomac—I saw the capital building across the water! I think as I become more and more familiar with Alexandria, Arlington, and DC I will love them more and more.

Although I don’t start work until Monday the 29^th, Amy introduced me to some IFC coworkers last night in Arlington. (I hope wasn’t inappropriate to have those first impressions at the bar!) I met several other Research Assistants who work on my floor and they gave me some of the scoop about the office. I actually had a random connection with one of the guys: he did the same study abroad program that I did in New Zealand, called EcoQuest!

I'm excited to start work soon and continue getting acquainted with my new home. I post further updates soon with details about the job.

Sending my love!

Good bye Ghana

Almost Ghanaian

Hi everyone!

Guess what? I'm back in the good ole US of A! I flew into Detroit yesterday afternoon and now I am basking in the luxuries of a real mattress, Michigan blueberries, and speedy unlimited internet. It feels so good to be back on (and in) Gull Lake! Most of all, I can't wait to reunite and catch up with all of you!

Now that I'm home, and my pictures are all downloaded to my computer, I wanted to augment my previous blog posts with some images:

Team Ghana

(Standing: Allison and Elizabeth, Kneeling: Emmanuel, Mozhgon, Rachel, Sowah, Charles) This is at least most of "Team Ghana" (sans Kaylee and I) hanging out after our last day of surveying.

Kids of Kejetia

Here's our questionable use of child labor--haha! The kids loved carrying our backpacks and research stuff for us (Gifty is wielding our 7 foot "height stick" on the right).


This is Kaylee with the twins (Alhassan is the boy and I can't remember the girl's name). They waved "bu-bye" to us every time we went past because I don't think they knew "hello..."

Allison brought these Dollar Store sunglasses on our last day in Kejetia. The "specs" were a big hit. (*Side note: I don't know if you can see, but Kelvin's yellow shirt says "Obama" on it. The Ghanaians love Obama!)

Land of the Lumps

Fufu in Groundnut soup

Banku with fish (above) and Banku with Okro Stew (below)...yum...

Mole National Park

Warthog (just like Pumba!)

Bushbuck

Baboons (right outside my window)

ELEPHANTS!

Patas Monkey

Sharing American Culture

We made Sowah, Charles, and Emmanuel try pizza at our favorite restaurant, Swap. (It wasn't exactly like American pizza, but they got the idea.)

We also made the translators try guacamole! Although there are no tortilla chips in Ghana, plantain chips sufficed. The Ghanaians said they liked both the pizza and guacamole (maybe we'll start a guacamole sensation in Bolgatanga).

Crusader Fellowship

This is 14-year-old Crusader Nancy and I when I visited her house. She was very disappointed that I couldn't pay for her to "follow me" to the US. I hope someday she can get a scholarship or some other opportunity to come and visit.

Chinese Miner Picnic

Sadly, we were not able to have a second picnic with the Chinese miners, but the memories from this one are indelible.

Number 8...

Throughout our 7 weeks of travel to and from Kejetia and Gorogo we had 10 flat tires... This photo captures the tire-changing-efficiency of our driver, Akailija (kicking the tire in the foreground) and our group's general enthusiasm for flat number 8.


Good bye Ghana!

I hope these pictures give you a little better sense of how I spent my last 2 months. It was quite an adventure. Without a doubt, I am happy to come home. I missed the amenities of the US (toilets that flush toilet paper, the ability to drink tap water, actual soft beds and chairs, seat belts, mosquito-free showers), but my greatest challenge was the cultural unfamiliarity (the food, the lack of a sense of time, the religious fervor). Living as a minority was difficult, even though we were genuinely welcomed. The kids would wave and call, "solomia!" (which means white person). Everyone on the streets of Bolga and in the communities of Kejetia and Gorogo wanted to meet us, to get our contact information, to "be our best friend" because we were white. They expected us to be rich, give them medicine and money, and bring them back the US.

I have grown up as a white, English speaking, educated, upper-middle class American girl. In the US, I am pretty "normal." Ghana gave me a new perspective. Although it was waring, it was invaluable for me to experience standing out in a crowd. I got a small dose of the prejudice that minorities face. Except instead of people assuming that I was lazy or violent or a great athlete or stupid or a terrorist, people assumed that I had money to solve their problems. I wish I could have given the people of Ghana more. I wish I did have ample funds to set up Mercury-free gold extraction methods for the miners, feed the malnourished farmers, distribute bed nets to protect people from malaria, install pit latrine toilets, pipe in clean drinking water, fund more public school teachers and the improvement of public school facilities, pay for students' university tuition, and buy plane tickets to the United States.

I wish I could have made a more tangible impact on the communities where we surveyed. I hope that our research will result in not only scientific papers but some real changes in Kejetia and other small-scale gold mining communities. I hope that our findings in this area will also spark the awareness of the Ghanaian government and NGOs to implement infrastructural changes. Sigh.

For now, I have to say good bye to the beautiful people, languages, animals, trees, and fruits of Ghana. I will miss the delightful families that I met, our wonderful translators, the precious children, and all of the Ghanaians who looked out for us and helped us along the way. When we left, the Ghanaians all asked: when will you return to Ghana? I don't know the honest answer to this question; unfortunately, it might be never. But living in Ghana has re-sculpted the way that I look at the world. In a way, I will return to Ghana often as I face "the real world"* in my future.

Thank you all so much for sharing in this Ghana-experience with me. I hope you have enjoyed the stories and pictures. Your support means so much. Thank you.

I hope to see all of you this summer and have some beach-going, group-cooking, Russa yoga-ing, SELMA-breakfasting, family-camping, rock-climbing, and general-singing-frolicking adventures! Stay tuned if you're interested in future blog updates. Sending my (almost-Ghanaian/future-Virginian/always-Michigander) love to you all,
C#

*"The real world" = real job, real apartment, real budget, etc... I can't believe I am moving to Virginia at the end of this summer! I already have an apartment in Arlington, VA (less than 5 miles from DC)--it's an exciting time of life :)

Land of the Lumps

Hello! I hope you are all well and happy as the month of June comes to a close.

Updates from Ghana: we just finished our surveying in the mining community today, and tomorrow we will move to our control community (where there is no gold mining).

It was sad to leave Kejetia because we’ve made some good friends along the way. The carpenter’s wife, named Love (isn’t that adorable?--Love), was particularly sad today. She has a particular attachment to Rachel, and she bought “Maltas” (a malt drink) for Rachel and Kaylee and copied all of Rachel’s contact information. We have also grown attached to the kids in Kejetia. Gifty, Tina, and Theresa play follow-the-leader and do the chicken dance with me. They also delight in carrying our backpacks and equipment around the mining site (oh no, I’m exposing the unethical use of child labor in this study!) A little boy, named Calvin, hangs out with us almost every day. He holds three of my fingers in his little 4-year-old hand as we walk around the community searching for households to survey. We also hang out with Calvin’s buddy, Junior. We call Junior “Baby Driver” because one day when Allison finished her survey early, he climbed into our van with her and sat right in the driver’s seat pretending to steer the van! (I sing Simon and Garfunkel to him often: “…they call me baby driver, and once upon a pair of wheels, hit the road and I’m go-o-one…”) Allison, Mozhgon, and Kaylee have provided ample “toffees” (candy) to the kids throughout our visits, and this last week Allison also gave out stickers, silly-band-bracelets, and star-shaped sunglasses (priceless pictures!).

The Survey:

I realized that I never really explained what “surveying” entails… here’s the gist of a day in Kejetia: First, we split into 3 groups and each group locates a random household to survey (we use a GPS maps that we constructed when we arrived in May of all of the household structures in the Kejetia to select random houses). We often traipse to several households before we find one where the inhabitants are both home and not too busy working. Once we find willing participants, the survey begins.

“The survey” comprises four smaller surveys: a household, occupational, malaria, and diet-and-nutrition survey. We start with the household survey to obtain a record of the full names, ages, education levels, and occupations of all of the adults in the household. We define a “household” as all people who eat from the same pot. Households in Kejetia vary widely in structure. Today I interviewed a wife and husband with their 9-month-old baby, but I’ve also interviewed a household with 10 adult men, who all crush rock, and a household with 5 adult women with a slew of children, who cook and sell food in Kejetia.

After the household survey, we conduct up to 4 occupational surveys per household (depending on how many adults live there and/or how many adults are available and willing to participate). The occupational survey is by far the most time consuming because it includes lengthy questions about work and health history. In addition, we take biological samples of participants’ hair and urine, measure blood pressure, and lung health during this survey. We measure lung health with little machines called “spirometers.” Throughout our 54 surveys in Kejetia, our translators and us girls have become pros at the spirometry technique. We always elicit laughter and Fra Fra jeers as we demonstrate: “Blow out as FAST, HARD, and LONG as you can!” It’s fun to have a good laugh every day. :)

When the occupational surveys are all done, we continue the other two surveys with the household head. The malaria survey attempts to understand how well people understand the cause of malaria (i.e. mosquitoes), symptoms (fever, vomiting, headache, shivering, body convulsions, and diarrhea—if you weren’t aware; I didn’t know before, but I have them memorized now), and how people treat malaria when they contract it (go to a clinic or take medications, etc). I know malaria sounds scary; I always cringed at the thought when I heard statistics back in Michigan. Malaria is so common here, however, it’s regarded more like the flu than some deathly disease. Most Ghanaians have malaria several times throughout their lives; it’s just a fact of life.*

The final survey about diet and nutrition is the shortest of the 4. We ask about foods/beverages that participants have consumed in the last 24 hours. Luckily Ghanaian cuisine is rather limited; everyone eats banku (or some type of lump)**, goat meat, dried fish, a leafy green (called bitto) and maybe some shea fruits.

We conclude the surveys by compensating each participant with 8 Ghana cedis (which is about 6 US dollars). We also ask if our participants have any questions , comments, or suggestions for us. Almost everyone asks us if we will give them medications. To this we have to answer: “Sorry, but we are not doctors, so we cannot diagnose what’s wrong or prescribe drugs. We will bring back your results next summer, and we can make suggestions then of whether you need to go to a doctor…” It feels a little dissatisfying. I wish we could offer more tangible and immediate help. But after they ask for medicine, most participants also express gratitude. They thank us for spending the time to consider the problems in their lives. I can tell that our study brings them hope. I just hope that we aren’t encouraging a false hope that our study can solve all of their illness and poverty.

*Kaylee experienced this “fact-of-life” first hand last Thursday and throughout this weekend. Her symptoms started with a terrible headache which lead to vomiting, diarrhea, and shivering for several days. Now, like we tell the people of Kejetia, “we’re not doctors,” but it seems very likely that Kaylee had malaria.

** “Ghana, land of the lumps.” I think this slogan summarizes Ghanaian food well. Ghanaians eat lots of starchy grains in big lumps. “Banku” is a big white lump of fermented corn, “fufu” is a big white lump of cassava, “oso” is a dense white lump of white rice, “gaari” is a (more cous cous-like) lump with the texture of fish eggs, and “tee zet” is a (more porridge-like) lump of millet. Ghanaian cuisine usually consists of one of the fore-mentioned lumps and a very oily stew with hunks of meat. They rip off pieces of lump to sop up and consume the stew. Unfortunately, I’m not a big fan of lumps.

GuacaMOLE

Hi all! I just returned yesterday from a particularly exciting week in Ghana. This weekend my group and I journeyed to Mole National Park. Most of all it was AMAZING! However, the trip was also arduous and (forewarning) slightly disgusting.

The ardor: getting there

First, we took a 3 hour tro-tro* from Bolga to Tamale. (*Tro-tros are big vans that provide public transportation throughout Ghana. They pack 19-24 people in the backs of each van. Thus we were squeezed sweaty shoulder to sweater shoulder, butt to butt, and thigh to thigh, holding our bags on our laps and praying for bigger windows.) Upon our arrival in Tamale, we bought bus tickets for the daily bus to Mole. They told us the bus boards at 1:30 pm, so we arrived at the station just after 1:00 ready to go. 1:30 came and went. Around 2:00 we started asking around if we missed it. 2:30…3:30…we sat in the shade and read our books. I attracted confused stares as I started doing yoga in the middle of our fellow-bus-waiters…Finally the bus arrived at 5:15 pm. We spent another 4 hours on the bus, similarly crammed together with bags in laps or between our legs. The last 2 hours of the ride, we departed from surfaced roads. The bus windows began to rattle and then bang like shot guns and the floor and seats vibrated (unfortunately not as comfortably as those nice massage chairs that they have if you get a pedicure…haha). To say the least, we were quite relieved to finally arrive at Mole Park around 9:30 pm.

The AMAZING: Mole

I woke up Saturday morning to a screech outside my window. 4 baboons chased one another across my line of sight, only meters from our bedroom window! As I looked out the window, I counted more than 20 baboons sitting in the grass, scampering on their hands and feet (with gaits like dogs mixed with human children), and preening. My group mates and I had our cameras out in a flash (bad pun…). We laughed at the baboons’ weird butts: it looks like they are covered in pink and tan plastic.

After our auspicious baboon-alarm morning, we proceeded to see a variety of other Ghanaian species. We took both a 2.5 hour “walking safari tour” and a 2 hour “car safari tour” with a guide named Abraham. Abraham helped us to spot and identify tons of antelope species including: kob, bushbuck, waterbuck, roan antelope, and hartebeest. The kob lined the roads as commonly as deer in Michigan corn fields (or U of M’s North Campus). According to Abraham, it was a rare treat to glimpse the small herds of waterbuck, roan, and hartebeest stampeding across our path. We saw several birds: red-throated bee eaters, a kingfisher, and Senegal cuckus. We met a warthog—like Pumba (naturally I had to sing some “Hakuna Matata”), saw some adorable patas monkeys, and glimpsed the ominous eyes of several crocodiles lurking in the ponds. Seeing these species outside of Disney animation and the zoo was surreal.

The most incredible moment of my weekend, however, occurred during our “walking safari.” We saw ELEPHANTS! As we approached a pond, we heard rumblings and then 3 massive, dark shapes came into view: 3 elephants cooling themselves and frolicking in the water! (Incessant picture-taking, jaw-dropping, and awed exclamations ensued for the next hour—yes, we watched the elephants for a whole hour, and we could have stayed longer!) Playing in the water, 2 of the elephants locked trucks and “wrestled” back and forth, their tusks dipping into and out of the water. Although playful, each movement seemed stoically slow because elephants are just so big. Soon they climbed up the steep slope out of the pond to join 3 more elephants in a nearby field. We followed them around and continued to watch. The elephants pawed their massive feet into water holes to stir up the mud then they lowered their whole bulk down into the mud to cover themselves. Abraham explained that the layer of mud on their skin helps them to stay cool. We gawked as they flapped their ears (the size of car doors) and stood with one of their back legs crossed over to the other (as nonchalantly as country-club boys relaxing after a game of squash). All six of the elephants were males, Abraham said; apparently elephants usually travel in same-sex groups. Soon enough, one of the elephants indiscreetly displayed his “manlihood” with, as Abraham put it, his “fifth leg.” (Amazingly this euphemism isn’t a great exaggeration. Elephant penises are huge: 3 ft long and probably 6 inches wide, it nearly dragged to the ground!) If you can’t tell by this rather detailed account, seeing elephants was spectacular!

The disgusting…

After our safaris, tours, and ample pictures, we went to the Mole restaurant for some dinner. I got a Spanish omelet (because the menu-picture advertised large chunks of vegetables). Unfortunately the omelet offered neither liberal veggies nor a pleasant night for me. I didn’t start to feel queasy till around 8 pm. At first I thought it could be cramps. After my bucket-shower, I wondered if maybe I should switch with Mozhgon and sleep on the bottom bunk for easy-toilet-access. By 2 am, I appreciated this decision, and I felt significantly better.

But “the disgusting” wasn’t quite over. The bus back to Tamale on Sunday left at 4 am, so the five of us woke up in the pitch dark at 3:30 to board the shot-gun-windowed-, vibrating-seated-bus. Still feeling quite queasy and dizzy, I took a window seat—just in case. This was another wise decision. After about 15 minutes, I emptied any remaining contents of my stomach out of the moving bus window…so there’s a first (and hopefully last): vomiting out of a moving vehicle.

(sorry for the lack of transition to the next topic…guacamole is definitely not part of the disgusting category)

Quick coda: Guacamole

They grow huge and delicious avocadoes here in Ghana. There are also tomatoes, onions, and garlic available. Thus Mozhgon, Rachel, Allison, and I decided to make some guacamole! Yum. They don’t have tortilla chips here, so we bought plantain chips from the market; it was delightful (even Kaylee, the finicky eater, loved it). After this success, we wanted to share our “American”-guacamole-culture with our translators. Emmanuel, Charles, and Sowah all thought the guac was “quite good.” (I thought of all of my sophisticats and hipsters--eating pounds of guacamole at any gathering.)

Missing you all, sending my love—and looking forward to sharing guacamole with you soon!