Saturday, August 24, 2013

Intermission

 
Over the next three years I stayed in touch with HardtHaven Children’s Home.  I raised money for them, coordinated the donation of four computers (which were ultimately stolen by post office employees on the route to Kpando) and many boxes of supplies (a few of which may even have arrived), and consulted Edem when he asked for help.  I had a shiny new master’s degree in public administration and worked as a fundraiser and grant writer for educational nonprofits in downtown Boston.  Asking people for money was stressful.  And tiring.  And stressful. 

After months of dramatically whining and crying about my stressful and tiring life during weekly therapy sessions, I finally got the guts to quit my job.  I needed the opposite of designer high heels, plastered on schmoozey smiles, and firm handshakes. I was miserable and my soul needed detox.  And so I booked a plane ticket to Accra.

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