umbrella
OK, when I said I would attend the peace cell meeting come hell or high water, I thought I was exaggerating. But the weather apparently is making me live up to my words. The little drizzle earlier became a torrent, and the roads quickly become very muddy.
I went back to the guest house in Awutu with taxi - Lawrence and Charlotte and I took the PA system to the house. Apparently we'll be hosting some big shindig soon (a new chief is coronated on Thursday and there's a weeklong celebration in Awutu). That's a little exhausting for me - when I get home at the end of the day, I want to rest. Instead, we've been playing host. And usually it's good and I like the people, but it's still a lot of energy. I have no idea how Emmanuel does it - he is "on" all the time and he gets no break from being Mr. Executive Director. (Well, apparently he's not doing it that well - he has a horrible headache and body aches now, which I had predicted from the stress level I saw in him last night. So, he's kind of taking today off.)
The rain got harder. Katie's friend Ronnie just got here last night from England, so we used that to justify having a taxi actually pick us up at the house - which is such a luxury I've never dreamed of. When we take taxi, it's from and to bus stops usually. So here I am - but I once again forgot to bring the book I'm reading and the curtains to measure to replace. The book is Blue Clay People, and it is really fascinating - about a Catholic Relief Services director in Liberia recently - about how the expatriates create an alternate universe where they buffer themselves from the very hard realities of the need.
What is so fascinating is how really different that is here with us. It's wonderful, really. There is no separation between us, the PCO staff, and refugees in general. There is no buffer - we eat the same food, use the same latrines, and spend our time together. The one difference is money - we western volunteers, though definitely not wealthy, have more than they do, and can do things like go to Kakum National Park for the weekend.
Of course, when you're that close, warts and all are exposed. Lawrence and I were shouting at each other rather angrily yesterday - he was so pissed off that he felt that Christine had usurped his authority and he felt disrespected. And I was pissed off that he was jumping all over Christine's ass when we had discussed it at the meeting and decided as a group but he didn't come to the meeting. Clearly there was a much bigger issue - while the director wants international volunteers to take over everything, the rest of the staff is much less convinced that's such a good idea.
But then we were at peace today. Not that we'll ever be best friends - he's the person here I feel least drawn to. But we can yell and hash out and listen to each other and be ok. And I like that a lot.
I also like the oft-explicitness. Yesterday while I was on the internet, I had copies made of the "Marita" book. The women in my class are obsessed with it - their teacher on Mondays uses it and they cannot get enough of it. I call it the Marita cult, but I will feed them their opium if it makes them come back for more learning. Anyway, I left it with the clerk while I computered away, and then picked it up. He had collated it all very nicely for me. "What is your name?" he asked. "[ME], and yours?" "Clarence. Now we be friends."
That's all it takes? A name exchange and doing something nice for me? Cool. And since then he definitely does act like my friend - ignoring others to help me, always greeting and saying goodbye. Not sleezy or anything, just friendly.
Both the Ghanaians and Liberians are not pushy, and I love it. I get these funny "walk-bys" though. They'll wait until they're past me before saying something showing interest. So, I get the ego stroke without having to deal with it - because I'm not stopping my stride to look back at a man. I'm not rude, I'm just not interested. And I'll argue as necessary, which seems to work for me well - like in the park when somebody was trying to give us flak and I was like, "No, it will be like this." And then he got like super nice to me and the rest of that day and the next was my friend and helpful.
But when I do ask for help, they are so helpful and take responsibility for me. I'll ask a storekeeper how to get somewhere and she'll point it out and when we come back by she rushes out to ask if we found it ok. Or when we asked some what the reasonable tro-tro rate was, they offered to help us negotiate with the driver if we didn't want to. Just like that - everywhere I go there's a community looking out for me, but with a few exceptions not telling me what I have to do. I say no and it means no.
OK, time to cross the muddy camp. I've been hiding in here too long today, I fear.
I went back to the guest house in Awutu with taxi - Lawrence and Charlotte and I took the PA system to the house. Apparently we'll be hosting some big shindig soon (a new chief is coronated on Thursday and there's a weeklong celebration in Awutu). That's a little exhausting for me - when I get home at the end of the day, I want to rest. Instead, we've been playing host. And usually it's good and I like the people, but it's still a lot of energy. I have no idea how Emmanuel does it - he is "on" all the time and he gets no break from being Mr. Executive Director. (Well, apparently he's not doing it that well - he has a horrible headache and body aches now, which I had predicted from the stress level I saw in him last night. So, he's kind of taking today off.)
The rain got harder. Katie's friend Ronnie just got here last night from England, so we used that to justify having a taxi actually pick us up at the house - which is such a luxury I've never dreamed of. When we take taxi, it's from and to bus stops usually. So here I am - but I once again forgot to bring the book I'm reading and the curtains to measure to replace. The book is Blue Clay People, and it is really fascinating - about a Catholic Relief Services director in Liberia recently - about how the expatriates create an alternate universe where they buffer themselves from the very hard realities of the need.
What is so fascinating is how really different that is here with us. It's wonderful, really. There is no separation between us, the PCO staff, and refugees in general. There is no buffer - we eat the same food, use the same latrines, and spend our time together. The one difference is money - we western volunteers, though definitely not wealthy, have more than they do, and can do things like go to Kakum National Park for the weekend.
Of course, when you're that close, warts and all are exposed. Lawrence and I were shouting at each other rather angrily yesterday - he was so pissed off that he felt that Christine had usurped his authority and he felt disrespected. And I was pissed off that he was jumping all over Christine's ass when we had discussed it at the meeting and decided as a group but he didn't come to the meeting. Clearly there was a much bigger issue - while the director wants international volunteers to take over everything, the rest of the staff is much less convinced that's such a good idea.
But then we were at peace today. Not that we'll ever be best friends - he's the person here I feel least drawn to. But we can yell and hash out and listen to each other and be ok. And I like that a lot.
I also like the oft-explicitness. Yesterday while I was on the internet, I had copies made of the "Marita" book. The women in my class are obsessed with it - their teacher on Mondays uses it and they cannot get enough of it. I call it the Marita cult, but I will feed them their opium if it makes them come back for more learning. Anyway, I left it with the clerk while I computered away, and then picked it up. He had collated it all very nicely for me. "What is your name?" he asked. "[ME], and yours?" "Clarence. Now we be friends."
That's all it takes? A name exchange and doing something nice for me? Cool. And since then he definitely does act like my friend - ignoring others to help me, always greeting and saying goodbye. Not sleezy or anything, just friendly.
Both the Ghanaians and Liberians are not pushy, and I love it. I get these funny "walk-bys" though. They'll wait until they're past me before saying something showing interest. So, I get the ego stroke without having to deal with it - because I'm not stopping my stride to look back at a man. I'm not rude, I'm just not interested. And I'll argue as necessary, which seems to work for me well - like in the park when somebody was trying to give us flak and I was like, "No, it will be like this." And then he got like super nice to me and the rest of that day and the next was my friend and helpful.
But when I do ask for help, they are so helpful and take responsibility for me. I'll ask a storekeeper how to get somewhere and she'll point it out and when we come back by she rushes out to ask if we found it ok. Or when we asked some what the reasonable tro-tro rate was, they offered to help us negotiate with the driver if we didn't want to. Just like that - everywhere I go there's a community looking out for me, but with a few exceptions not telling me what I have to do. I say no and it means no.
OK, time to cross the muddy camp. I've been hiding in here too long today, I fear.
posted by NOLA at 7:17 AM
1 Comments:
Big shindig, huh? You have to think of a title, Heidi. Remember that no one in our circle ever has a party without dubbing it some ridiculous acronym.
Jen
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