September 8, 2007, Evening- Keeping Score

September 8, 2007

Evening

I felt like having a beer.  After spending the day at the hospital with Kafui and Ernestina, Sonjelle needed one, too. 

Margaret Marquart Hospital is only just down the road, but I haven’t been there.  From Sonjelle’s descriptions, I don’t think I want to, either.  The children’s ward, like the rest of the hospital, is understaffed, and the staff are under qualified.  Sonjelle has stories: in the waiting room next to a man with broken, dislocated bones, moaning for hours on end; in the hallway because no rooms were open, sitting next to an expectant mother who was alone and wailing on the floor; laying awake all night with one of our babies in a cot next to a crib where the child’s soul had passed on, body forgotten.  I am sure there are stories of healing and recovery, but those aren’t the ones that keep her up at night, and a sorrow shared is a sorrow cut in half. 

We hacked away at our day’s sorrows on the walk to the Maxi Spot.

We bought our “Big Star” brews, which set us back about 80 cents each, and sat in white plastic chairs at a white plastic table under the canopy, as far as we could get from the subwoofers that thumped with early 90’s hip hop and Celine Dion. 

Soon after sitting we were joined by Tim, a Peacecorps volunteer, and Vin, a German Expatriate.  I made it through the small-talk, and then Sonjelle thankfully took over as the conversation turned toward the finer points of capitalism, socialism, and international stereotypes.  I started zoning out as they started exploring Marxist theories as applied to the local economy, but was snapped out of it when Tim asked me how long I’d be in Kpando. 

“Two weeks.  I have about a week left of my stay.”

“See.  That’s part of the problem,” Vin said, flapping his hand in my direction.  Part of what problem, I wasn’t sure, but I felt ashamed just the same.  “You young Americans think you can come to this place and make change in two weeks and then you go home to some high fives and never think of it again.” 

I blushed.  “I just wanted to volunteer.  And experience a new place.  And.  And hug some kids.”  I didn’t mention how number five on my “List of Ways to Make the Most Impact” was “You Know… Make an Impact.”

“Yeah.  And what of those kids?” he spat out to the whole table.  “I see these volunteers come and go.  And those kids.  They stay.  They stay and watch you go.  What of them.  They have nothing.  They have no one.  And you come and go.”  He dismissed me with a flick of his wrist.

“Vacation volunteers,” Tim said down his nose at me.

But I haven’t done anything wrong, I thought to myself.  I just wanted to...  I don’t know.  Do something good.  I came here to be helpful.  Vin, you’re a self-righteous prick.  Being an expat doesn’t make you better than the rest of us.  And neither does being a Peacecorps volunteer, Tim, so quit nodding your head.  But the next sip of Star couldn’t extinguish the fire that had re-kindled in my throat.  They weren’t wrong.  I’m going to go home in a week, and what of those kids? 

I threw back the last gulp of my Big Star and stood up, steadying myself for a second before heading to the bathroom.  Quote, Bathroom, unquote. 

This adventure began by pushing open a dirty swinging door with the back of my hand.  The door led to a positively filthy four foot wide alley between two glorified shacks with a ditch running between them.  The door didn’t lock so I had to hold it shut by pinching a rusty nail that was sticking out where a handle might have been.  Closing the door left me perched on a cement strip about as wide as my foot.  It was too dark to see much, but I could tell that something, possibly another door, was blocking the alley at the street, and piles of beer crates blocked prying eyes from the other direction.  The opposite side of the ditch didn’t have a ledge, so I couldn’t straddle it while holding on to the rusty nail to pee straight down.  My only option was to step to the side of the door, hold the nail with one hand, pull up my skirt with the other hand, and lean back against the building with my hips jutting out, and hope I could get enough of an arch so I wouldn’t have to walk home with my feet smelling like urine. 

Success.  With minimal backsplash I pissed into the ditch like a champ. 

Daily score: Ghana (specifically Matilda and Vin) 2 points, Dana (Bathroom Skills) 1. 

(photo credit: Erika, 2010)