September 9, 2007- First Week Finish (Alternate Title: Poo)

 

Went to bed with a stomach ache, had some Pepto, woke up with explosive diarrhea. 

My stomach felt gross and my tongue had a black sludgy film on it.  Edem thought it was colored from “taking alcohol” last night, which he does not condone.  I had brushed my teeth, I’m pretty sure.  Maybe I accidently drank some water?  Sonjelle says that black tongue can happen if your body’s PH is off, so maybe it was the Pepto.  I just hope I don’t have some disease from eating poo-contaminated things that kills me, starting with my tongue.  

In the tro tro on the way to the lake.

I wasn’t going to let a little bout of diarrhea and possible impending death stop me from going on the fieldtrip to Lake Volta, though.  Sonjelle and I were taking the kids, and only two of them had ever seen the lake even though it’s less than a fifteen-minute drive away.  I munched on Pepto and Imodium, Matilda handed Sonjelle a travel bag with a rice and hot sauce to-go lunch for each person, and we all squeezed into our tro tro.  

The older kids were psyched and sang and drummed on their knees the whole ride.  It was market day at the lake, so there were dozens of ladies walking along, straining under the weight of the full baskets of goods they carried on their heads.  Emma sat in my lap, gaping out the window as his world got bigger and bigger, and flew by faster and faster.

Justice and Isaac grew up near Lake Volta.  The brothers were proud tour guides for our wide-eyed troupe and negotiated with some fishermen to let us stand on the deck of a ferryboat and sit in a grounded canoe. 

Apart from dealing with the aftermath of stepping in what was almost certainly human feces, I spent most of the time counting the heads of our children as we bobbed and squeezed through the crowded market.  There wasn’t much room between the wooden stalls to begin with, and everyone was carrying huge bags of goods on their heads, so you couldn’t see very far in front of you.  I was relieved when Justice suggested he show us a different, less packed part of the lake. 

We all followed him on a worn dirt path to a residential area past the marketplace, mostly along the water.  Sad looking dogs escorted us from one circle of crumbling shelters to the next.  The trees were few and far between, and our crew started to look sweaty and dusty.  We skirted around discarded tin roofs, smoldering piles of coals, and clotheslines holding articles that appeared both clean and filthy at the same time.  We were deep into the community before I noticed any locals.  As we walked through the middle of one man’s dirt yard he growled “yavu” in a way that sounded like it could mean “dirty scoundrel dog.”   At the next house we were solicited for money, and the woman was less than pleased when we did not oblige, furrowing her brow, pursing her lips and flapping her hands at us to move on.  The next few locals greeted us similarly, and finally Sonjelle asked Justice to turn us back around. 

It took less time to get back to the main parking lot than it did for us to venture into the middle of the slum.  After all that excitement Sonjelle thought we could use a break and bought everyone a soda.  We “took minerals,” as it is called, at a little bar at the edge of the parking lot.  The kids were so delighted you would think it was Christmas morning.

While they relaxed, I went in search of a bathroom.  It wasn’t an emergency emergency yet, but it could turn into one.  There wasn’t one at the little bar, but one of the men who worked there told me to follow him.  We stopped in front of a huge cement building with a fresh coat of white paint on it.  Very fancy.  He pointed to a walkway that went to the back of the building.  I followed the walkway to a ramp leading to a large open doorway.  Inside was a woman selling toilet paper, but I had brought my own (you don’t wake up with explosive diarrhea and go on a fieldtrip in Ghana without bringing some toilet paper).  I shook my head and indicated that I had my own, and stepped in the ladies room.  There were a few stalls and one had a flushing toilet, which I selected.  Everything went just as planned.  As I left, the toilet paper woman called out something and was pointing at me.  Having no idea what she was saying, I just smiled, said “akpe ka-ka-ka,” which means roughly “thanks a lot” or “thank you many times,” and left.  She kept talking at me, and it occurred to me that she may have wanted me to pay even though I didn’t need toilet paper.  I was already down the path so I didn’t turn back.  I felt like there was the possibility that she decided that since I’m white she should ask me for money whether I used the toilet paper or not.  Or, I was supposed to pay regardless and I just stole five minutes on the can.   Part of me was a little afraid that I’d be scooped up and put in a jail cell, but no one came after me.

The kids sat and finished their soda while we waited for a tro.  Sonjelle and I were drinking from bags of water.  All drinkable water comes in little plastic bags.  They cost about 5 cents each (except for the $3 bags at the airport) and taste like plastic if you’re lucky.  If you’re not lucky, the water somehow tastes like a campfire or dirt.  I can imagine how water, stacked next to a fire, might taste smoky, but it’s beyond me how it would acquire the flavor of dirt.

The cab driver tried to overcharge us by 50 cents (most likely because we’re white girls with a bunch of kids) but Justice – our unofficial translator- sorted it out and we got our change.  I wonder if Justice enjoys constantly negotiating on behalf of yavos or if he finds it arduous. 

I made it home just in time (thank you again, Imodium).  

Speaking of poop, this evening two teenagers started taking a dump in the road outside our gate.  Now, I’ve seen people whip it out or hike up their skirt just about anywhere to pee, but despite the “DO NOT SHIT HERE” signs around town, I didn’t actually believe that people would just squat down and take a dump wherever they pleased.  Apparently we need more signs.  Justice got into a shouting match with them.  I can’t be sure, but it looked like he had to threaten bodily harm before they finally zipped up and trotted away.  Ridiculous!

Edem says another volunteer is coming tomorrow.  He can’t pick the guy up because he’s supposed to be at training, and I guess Elvis can’t either.  Elvis is useless.  So, Sonjelle might go pick him up, and I might take two kids to the hospital for a clinic. 

What a place.  What a day.