Malaria and Friendliness

Things have been moving right along, now that school is in session. The teachers and Headmaster Ben are trying out an intense new plan, expanding the night classes for the oldest students -- to help them better prepare for their upcoming exam (which determines if they will be accepted to high school). It will be interesting to observe the progress made -- it is just a trial period, and a new frontier for all of us.

The students and community are getting used to me, slowly. Increasingly, I'm greeted with "Madam Shawna!" (the madam part is still weird) instead of "BRUNI!" (white person)... Sometimes, walking in town, a child will instinctively fire off an "OBRUNI" yell, and then upon closer inspection realize it's me, and revise it to "Madam Shawna!" Much better.

Teacher turnover is a constant problem at private schools here in Ghana, one that the trainings and incentives offered by Tomorrow's Stars is helping. Many of the teachers work for a couple of years after high school to save up money for University, and then up and leave when they find out they're accepted in the middle of the term -- leaving classes without teachers, and headmasters scrambling to replace them. Tomorrow's Stars incentives program is doing a great job though, increasing their pay for every year they stay with the school. Progress is slow, but so is everything else in tropical Africa!

My lack of contact with the outside world recently has been due to a little bout with malaria. Don't worry, I'm fine, the doctor confirms that I will live. However, this lovely debilitating sickness brings me to my next point: Ghanaian hospitality. How, you ask? Read on, my friends.

It all started on a normal Saturday, at a beach hostel far from Elmina. I had just started my quest to find a "share taxi" for the last leg of my journey. Share taxis are great because they usually cost somewhere between 20 and 50 cents, and travel certain predetermined routes, stopping along the way to drop people off and pick new ones up. It is the life ambition of the taxi driver to keep the cab full at all times: this means two people in the front passenger seat, and at least four in back. (Yesterday I was lucky seat #2 in back when in climbed a (LARGE) woman with a baby on her back and another rotund girl dressed for school. The baby lady took over half my lap, baby playing with my nose.) So anyways, Ghanaian hospitality rule #1: they are generally honest people who rarely try to rip you off. Case in point: first guy I approached, asking where I could find a share taxi to my destination, replied that he'd drive me for $4.00 and there ARE no share taxis that go there, just ask anyone. As I was contorting my face into a "WHAAAAAT?!?!?!" formation, some OTHER cab driver who overheard the conversation came up and lightly tapped me on the shoulder, pointed to his almost full share taxi, and says "Let's go." HAHA in your FACE, mean guy! Ghana looks out for you.

Ghanaian hospitality rule #2: they are incredibly helpful and caring people. So Saturday night, when I was suddenly reduced to a sweaty shaking feverish aching ball of hopelessness rocking back and forth with chills and a headache from somewhere you don't want to visit, the entire Ghanaian staff of the (fully booked) guesthouse was there, offering everything from blankets to advil, free of charge. When I checked out, they wrote down advice and instructions, refused payment for anything they'd given me for my illness, and walked me to a cab.

Everyone really is over-the-top nice, which is suprisingly hard to adjust to at first! When every second person wants to "take you as my friend," it's hard to believe that there is no ulterior motive involved. Now granted, money is often the ulterior motive...but sometimes people are just plain nice, and want you to enjoy their country. In fact, sometimes they're too nice and don't know when to just leave you alone. And I'm not talking about the interrogations that have led me to create a fictional husband and two lovely children that I sadly had to leave at home (in case you're wondering, their names are Bruticus, Stewie, and Bianca, respectively), I mean innocent non-marraige proposal scenarios. Sometimes, and I never thought I'd say this, but even just another friendship can be too much. And now, the final example you've all been waiting for.

Tuesday, I went to the "hospital" to get tested for malaria. I have a huge fear of needles generally, so that fear expands exponentially when I'm in a third world country with a questionably trained, WAY-too-smiley guy collecting my blood. Keep in mind, this is a hospital, most people are visibly miserable, THIRD-WORLD-miserable, can barely muster the strength to hoist themselves from their wooden benches, and certainly have no urge to strike up a bubbly conversation with their practitioner. So sadistically happy needle man sits me down, and after i glance over to insure that yes, good, he IS unwrapping a new needle, I quickly avery my eyes as he plunges it into my arm. Halfway through the process, he idly goes, "Shaaaw-naa." (people often read or repeat my name aloud because they have never heard it before) "Yes," I squeaked, still looking the other way. Then, vial half full, needle still sucking my arm dry, he goes, "I would like to take you as my friend!!!"

I rest my case. :)

I will leave you all with my favorite non-Jesus/God/Holy Ghost sign so far:

"Don't Mind Your Wife Bar"

Miss you all!