Espana!

Holiday in Spain.

Here's the blog about Spain, as promised. We traveled in the southern portion of Spain along the Mediterannean coast to places like Malaga, Riviera del Sol, and Mijas Puerto. From the second I touched down in Spain, I was in love with the country. It's striking natural beauty speckled with man-made architecture was the perfect mix of man-meeting-nature. The weather was hot, but not as humid as Ghana, and the Mediterannean Sea's chilly water reminded me of the mountain water back home. We spent most of our days shopping in Fuengirola and relaxing on the many beautiful beaches. At night, we typically cooked our own meals back in the condo. The most difficult decisions we made all week went something like this: "Red or white wine?", "This beach or that beach?", "Ice cream now or later?" It was simply amazing, to put it in small words. If anyone ever gets the opportunity to go to Spain, I highly recommend it. Thanks, once again, to my parents for letting us use their timeshare. It was the perfect vacation after spending 4 months in West Africa and I know that none of us will ever forget it!

My first night in Spain was spent trying to find the resort where my parents had the timeshare. I should probably add that the only Spanish I know is "toilet" and "In the name of Jesus Christ" (Belize mission trip in high school). I am the queen of being ill-prepared when I visit unfamiliar places, and my arrival in Spain was a perfect testimony of that. It was 1 a.m. when I wandered out of the airport. "Riviera?" I said to a taxi driver. He took me to a place called the Riviera Hotel. Not the correct Riviera. I stood outside, less 25 euros, clutching my suit case, and wondering where in the world I was. Thankfully the man working inside this hotel spoke a little English. He informed me that I was still 35 kilometers away from Riviera del Sol. He also informed me that all the hostels in the area were booked. He called a nearby hotel and booked me for one night at the rate of 38 euros. It was more money than I wanted to spend, but still not a bad price for a bed and a shower. I had to climb up a steep hill, lugging along my heavy suitcase, in the middle of the night. I finally made it to the hotel and had to wait several minutes for them to find someone who spoke English. I got the key to my room and stumbled in around 2:30 a.m. I hadn't had a hot shower in 4 months so that was my first order of business. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the water. The shower head shot off the hook and swung around like a pressure washer. I honest-to-goodness could have cleaned my mom's driveway with that shower head. Needless to say, I ended up holding the shower head above my head while I showered. At least it was hot water. The next morning I spent another 38 euros getting to Riviera del Sol.

Katie and Ali didn't get to Spain for a couple of days so I spent my alone time watching old black and white movies in my underwear, drinking milk straight out of the carton. Glamorous, I know. Spain was fantastic. Some journal entries for your perusal:

June 14, 2008

Riviera del Sol

I'm finally at the correct Riviera, sitting on my personal porch watching the pinks and yellows fade behind the Spanish hills. Those beautiful, skinny (Italian looking) evergreens mingled with picturesque palm trees are outlining the horizon. White stucco homes with tiled roofs are speckled thickly up the darker-growing hills. This is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. Solitude is a marvelous thing every now and again. I think I'll add this moment to my box of memories that I can pull out when life gets in the way. The darker clouds are winning now, but they're unaware of what the sun has in store. The sun will always win in the end, like justice and other noble things I wouldn't know a lot about. I feel so priviledged to be able to experience something as wonderful as these last few months.

Madame Sala's Appreciation letter

The following is an e-mail I received from Madame Sala thanking everyone for contributing to my fundraiser. I have a couple hours of video footage and Travis and I will be working on editing it for the next fundraiser. You can really see the children's personalities in these videos. I'm hoping to make a few dvd's so if anyone is interested in me sending them a copy, just let me know. I'll post a blog once we have the videos completed.

APPRECIATION
Tuesday, June 17, 2008 8:14 AM
From: "SALAMATU ABDUL-RAHAMAN"
To: 0vermyhead333@yahoo.com

Hi kim,am sorry i couldn't meet you to say good byr to you,thank you so much for what you have done for us, On behalf of the directoress,the mothers,the entire children of peace and love orphanage,me myself, i say a very big thanks to you,atleast the love that you showed us tell the person you are we really appreciate what you done for us,atleast now we have living room,for the kids whereby they can sit and do so many things thaks so much.

we hope to see you again in next summer.God will also bless anyone who contributed some may you live long to continue to bless as any kind, thanks for coming to our aid.
Good bye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Home at last.

I'm sitting in my brother's kitchen listening to my one-year-old nephew grunt as he waddles around the living room, passy in mouth. My feet are cold. I still haven't adjusted to air conditioning. We drove down to Florida yesterday and everyone gasped when we rolled down the windows and felt the humid air. "Does this remind you of Africa?" they asked. Not quite.

My trip home took a little longer than I was anticipating. I wrote down a basic timeline in my notebook when I was on the flight home from Chicago. This is taken straight from my journal:

June 23, 2008 Chicago, Illinois.

Some people try to make it around the world in 80 days. I did it in 3.

Timeline:

June 21st
7 a.m.
~Woke up in Riviera del Sol and took a bus to Fuengirola. From there got a train to Malaga.
1:45 p.m.
~Flew from Malaga to Madrid to London.
5:50 p.m.
~Arrive in London
8 p.m.
~Was told that I was mysteriously erased from my flight to Knoxville.
June 22nd
2 a.m.
~Find out that they were full of it.
11:40 a.m.
~Flight to Chicago boards, but we still sit on the runway for an hour.
3 p.m.
~Arrive in Chicago and wait 20 minutes for my luggage.
4:20 p.m.
~My flight for Knoxville takes off.
4:21 p.m.
~I arrive at the gate.
7:40 p.m.
~When the next flight to Knoxville leaves.
6 p.m.
~Find out that the 7:40 flight is cancelled due to inclement weather.
6:10 p.m.
~I was told I couldn't leave until 4:35 on June 23rd.
7 p.m.
~I arrived at the hotel Mom booked me in. They said I wasn't booked there.
8 p.m.
~I arrived at a different Doubletree hotel 25 minutes away. Not booked there either. Call the 1st place and find out I was right the 1st time.
8:10 p.m.
~Pay a taxi driver $23 to take me there because the hotel shuttle wasn't driving anymore.
9:00 p.m.
~Finally get to my room. First bed since the night of June 20th. Also my first shower...
June 23rd
8 a.m.
~Woke up and took the shuttle to the airport.
11:50
~My flight to Knoxville finally takes off after 5 gate changes.

It's been an eventful weekend full of more illness and tears and waiting than I would have liked. I should probably add that I came down with some strange illness in London and spent a good portion of the night getting sick in the "loo". Ended up meeting some pretty interesting characters during my 18 hour layover though. Got about an hour of sleep on the floor of the terminal. Had a cup of coffee at 3 a.m. (1st Starbucks in 4 months!) with a man from Peru and a guy from Uganda. Had a guy in Chicago ask me if I knew about Murphy's Law. Told him I know more about Murphy's Law than Murphy himself. Not much else to say.

P.S. Feels good to be in America.

Later:

I stopped counting gate changes. It's somewhere between 4-5. I'm laughing at this point and feel like I should appologize to my fellow Knoxville passengers. My presence on this flight is certainly the source of these gate changes. My fellow passengers are a comforting sight I should add. Orange and white and fat with Southern accents and smiles. 17 A. That's my seat number on this puddle jumper. I'm laughing again at my luck, or lack thereof. There are 18 rows on this plane, you see. I'm always sitting in the back.I'm thinking about changing my name to Murphy.

I'm en route at last. Below me to the left, the Chicago skyline rises imposingly beneath the scattered clouds that resemble floating cotton. Not like cotton balls--they're more like the cotton still found attached to its stem, only whiter. Suburban blocks in neat little rows cover the smaller-growing landscape.

February 11th-June23rd. That's a short period of time to experience so much and change so much. Have I changed through this experience or merely gained a handful of stories beginning with "When I was in Africa..."? I say Africa instead of Ghana because no one knows where Ghana is. I believe that I have indeed changed. I also believe that I won't realize the extent of my transformation until I've safely made my journey back into American society and culture. I've gained patience through this experience, and self-reliance. I feel like there are very few situations in which I could not safely extricate myself. I've learned to be quick on my feet, as well as quick on my tongue. Kindness, I've also learned, is a more effective weapon than anger. This lesson was learned by doing the exact opposite and comparing results. Angry words take more breaths, and opposed to popular belief, are not as relieving to release. Smiling in the face of adversity goes much further, especially if you can learn to smile on the inside too. I've learned that the best things in life are not only worth waiting for, but are much more appreciated once they are received. i've learned that walking slower is not only less exhausting, but it allows you to witness the things everyone else is missing in their hurry. So here I am now--20 years old and walking slower with my head swiveling around in an effort to see it all...and increasingly irritated that I know I never can. There are too many places for one person to see in a lifetime. I will see all I can though and probably die young of some absurd food-born illness in a place more rustic than romantic.That's a fine way to go though...

So here I am. I went to Africa to find myself and realized that I already knew who that was before I left. I am an ever-changing nomad with a terrible sense of direction and a habit of being ill-prepared for all my inevitable adventures.

And right now I'm happily descending on Knoxville, TN.

I'll post another blog later with more details about my Spain trip.

Heathrow

It's the middle of the night in Heathrow. Suffered another bout of food-poisoning earlier. Have met some very interesting people. One from Uganda, one from Peru and two from Spain. Might as well make some friends while I'm stuck in Heathrow for 18 hours.

me no speaky espanola!

Made it to Spain. I´ll write more later because the internet cafe´s here are expensive. It´s very beautiful and I´m already having a wonderful time just chilling in the hotel room. Had a hot shower and a ham sandwich with a glass of milk today. Doesn´t get much better than that. Next time I´ll bring a Spanish dictionary though. Had a hard time explaining where I needed to go to the taxi drivers last night. Unfortunately ¨toilet¨and ¨thank you¨ aren´t necessary in a conversation with a cabby. Stayed the night in a crappy hotel that I paid 38 euros to sleep in. Oh well, I´m at the resort now(thanks to my parents and their timeshare that they are letting me use!) and loving it! Be home in 8 days!

goodbye.

My last official day in Ghana. Stayed up all night hugging the porcelain god. How is it that I make it 4 months without any illness and then on my last night here I get food poisoning. Lovely. Let's hope I'm not sick the whole way to London. Will touch base in Spain once I find an internet cafe.

Au revoir Afrique!

*I know my mom is going to correct me on my French here.

Go and come.

I was planning on uploading tons of pictures from my last day at the orphanage, but the internet has decided not to work in my favor. I'll be sure to post a lot more pictures once I arrive home [in 11 days!!].

Well, today was my last full day in Ghana. I will be flying out tomorrow night at 10:30. I started out my day by eating breakfast downstairs in ISH, just like every other day. I always order a bread roll, baked beans, and a pancake (which is nothing like a real pancake by the way). Every morning they always have to ask me at least twice what I ordered because they never write anything down. Today I mixed it up and left out the pancake. They didn't ask me what I wanted a second time. I got a pancake too.

I took it easy for most of the day and finished the last of my packing. At around 3 p.m. I left for the orphanage. I hadn't been walking long before this Ghanaian man walked up alongside of me.

-What's up?

-Nothing.

-You from 'merica?

-Yes.

-I like to go to 'merica someday. You make that possible?

-Yes, I think I can arrange that. Why don't we just get married real quick and then I'll get you a visa.

*mumbling things I can't understand*

-Where are you going?

-Madina (a lie)

-Did you know I stay in Madina?

-How would I know that? I don't even know your name.

-Kojo. What are you called?

-*thinking* Becky (not the most glamorous name I could come up with)

-Who gave you that name?

-I probably shouldn't tell him that I just gave it to myself. My mother.

-I will escort you to Madina.

-No you won't.

-But yes, I am going there also.

-I would like to go alone.

I finally made it to the orphanage (without an escort, thankfully), and got to hang out with the kids for the last time. I handled it a lot better than I thought I would. I didn't allow myself many tears. Tears mean closure, and I don't want closure. I want to come back. I need to. So it was Au Revoir, or as the Ghanaians say, "Go and come." I am going, and I will [hopefully] come again. Benjamin, who is an aspiring footballer, got really serious with me for a minute. "Now Kimber," he said. "Don't forget we need footballs and jerseys." I nodded with the most serious face I could muster.

Don't really know what else to say. I will miss those kids like crazy!

Bracing for goodbye.

I'm leaving in 2 days. Tomorrow I will be going to the orphanage for the last time. I'm planning on losing 5 pounds in tears by the time I leave. My journal entry from June 6th pretty much sums up how I feel about a lot of things:

I feel like I need to write. Like if I don't--even the most spectacular moments will slip away from my memory just as quickly as my footsteps that were washed away by the sea. I've left no trace of my existence here. A lonely, introspective walk down the beach has left me pensive and unsociable. I've been thinking about how even if you do your best to make a difference, there will always be those opposed to your efforts and ideals. This opposition should never stop you or even slow you down though. It should instead be transformed into a driving force and a source of ambition.

Prove them wrong.

I walked along the beach and imagined baby dadum wadling alongside of me. Her tiny footsteps just as easily erased by the Atlantic.I thought about how much I will miss her chubby hand in mine, as well as her solemn, yet contented expression. She, however, will not remember me. She won't remember the time I kissed away her tears after she was smacked in the face by a soccer ball. She won't remember how I would walk backwards through the schoolyard, holding onto both of her hands and letting her feel that freedom of walking. No, she'll forgt about me just as quickly as I walk out that large green gate for the last time. I'm not really bothered by this though. I don't need her to remember me, but I need to remember her. I need to remember Blessing Omaboe and how he taught me the fragility of life. he wa abandoned at infancy just like me, and then tossed into a careless world. I, his "next of kin", will be forgotten. He won't remember me feeding him, changing his diapers, or taking him to the hospital countless times. I wonder if anyone will ever inform him of his market birth and soon-after abandonment. It's okay if they don't. He will be orphanage-toughened and handsome, with probably a few more scars than necessary. And I will love him, as his "next of kin", but from afar. I will always think of him as the dependent little baby he is now. I will miss him.

Yesterday I went to the orphanage to pay for the last bit of the tile. The other day, Emily told me that her and Emma (another volunteer) were going to put their money together to finish the tile. The amount of money they needed after they had put all of their avilable money in, was $160. Mom called me the other day to say that I got 2 checks in the mail and they amounted to $160. Crazy how things work out sometimes, huh.

Cassandra, my roommate, came with me to the orphanage yesterday. She picked up Dadum, her personal favorite, and carried the diaper-less little girl with us down the street so that I could purchase more diapers. We bought the diapers and then started walking back when all of a sudden I heard Cassie shriek. I'm not going to go into too much detail here for those of you who have a weak stomach...but I'll let you guess what happened. Cassie handled it like a champ though and surprisingly Dadum is still her favorite. She was walking down the street, holding Dadum out away from her body, and saying, "I am a mommy now, my baby just poo-pooed on me." I couldn't help but laugh and I'm just happy that she was able to laugh about the situation too.

Anyway, I better run. Be home soon! = )

Who said white girls can't dance??

My neighbor, Diana, just poked her head in the door and handed me a beef khebob. "You're supposed to be dancin'," she said, with a little more emphasis on the last syllable of "dancing." I pointed to my monitor at the Word document containing my Creative Writing assignment. She nodded in understanding and then left to go back to her party. I went in there a few minutes ago to check it out. The lights were out except for one lonely candle on her desk. "Roomie!" I heard from across the room. It was Cassandra and she was dancing. She made her way across the room and yelled Obroni over the music. We have this little on-going joke about the Ghanaian men's pick-up lines. I just giggled and responded to her hip movement with a little hip action of my own. She just laughed out loud and then rejoined her dance partner. I retreated to sit on the desk. Another dancer made her way in front of me. She was immaculately dressed and danced like Michael Jackson wishes he could. It was River dance, only something more natural. Every part of her body moved to the music and made me believe that it really is "in their blood." Her dance partner got a little too close for comfort. She shoved him off in that don't-mess-with-me-I'm-Ghanaian kind of way. Then my conservative little pint sized roomie took the main stage. My jaw dropped to the floor as she moved across the peeling linoleum like a billion dollar pop star. A Ghanaian guy approached me. "Kim, why don't you dance," he asked. He knows my name, I thought. I've met so many of her friends it's hard to remember them all though. Cassandra yelled, "Because she is obroni! They dance like this!" She swung her hips off-rhythm without moving her feet, laughing all the while.

She couldn't be more right.

5 days to go.

On Wednesday, I went with some friends to Green Turtle Lodge which is about an 8 hour trotro ride up the Western coast of Ghana. It's just your typical Ghanaian beach resort that has numerous hammocks with my name on it. It was nice to relax and hang out with other exchange students who are all heading their separate ways over the next couple of weeks.

On our first night there, I was sitting at the dinner table when a rather heated debate ensued. One of the people at the table asked me if I feel like I have actually done anything to help the orphanage. I looked confused. He then said that he feels Americans should pull out all foreign aid going to Africa and let them learn some independence. While I agree that "Africa needs to help Africa", as I have said before; I believe that we should not justify our inactivity by saying we are helping the Africans learn independence in order to further their development. I explained to him that Africa became dependent on other nations when they were stripped of their working class during the 17th-19th centuries. Many scholars believe Africa's under-development is largely a result of its tumultuous and economically unsound past. Do I personally think that Africa could ever develop? Yes, I do--but only if they want to. Just because some African countries survive on the most basic neccesities of life does not neccessarily mean that they are not "developed" or "cultured" people. Is it such a bad thing that kids in Africa are not growing up in front of a brain-washing television screen, or clinging for dear life to a game controller, killing people (virtually, of course). The culture is different here, but that does not mean that it's worse than our own. Of course there are things that need improvement...there always are. A Utopian society only exists in the most hopeful, and slightly nieve, persons imagination. The work I've been doing at the Peace and Love orphanage was not aimed at making the children more culturally acceptable. They are perfectly fine the way they are. I have, however, been working toward making their childhoods a little easier on them. I can't change the world, and I'm not trying to. Maybe what I've done in Ghana hasn't been a very tremendous contribution to the betterment of mankind, but at least I know that there are 40 kids in Africa who won't wake up in a pool of sweat and don't have to lounge around on dirty concrete floors.

The morning after I this dinner table debate, I was reading a book by Dave Eggers. It's not exactly a profound philosophical book, but rather a novel I borrowed from a friend to pass the time while at the beach. I smiled, however, when I read these lines: "For every secretary giving her uneaten half-sandwich to a haggard unwashed homeless vet, there is someone to claim that act is only, somehow, making things worse. The inactive must justify their sloth by picking nits with those making an attempt." I will add that I am not calling my dinner table challenger "slothful". I am perhaps calling him slightly ignorant and misinformed.

*Stepping down from my soapbox now*

My favorite part of this weekend was the tiring trip home. We left Green Turtle around 2 p.m. just as we saw dark rainclouds rolling in above us. We began walking down the dirt road toward the nearby village in order to catch a trotro. This road encompassed everything I love about Africa. First off, the road was dirt, which makes for a really fun off-road-ish experience in a vehicle. Secondly, the foliage surrounding the road was painted in the greenest of greens. It reminded me why that is my favorite color. Lastly, the sky hovering above the road was filled with dark gray rain clouds that moved at a faster pace than they do at home. Everything surrounding me was full of life and vibrant colors. On the way to Green Turtle, we were stuffed into a 12-person trotro that was holding 21 people (plus 2 on the roof). We bounced along the pot-hole filled road and braced ourselves for fear of physical injury. As we were walking down the road toward the village, we saw a similar trotro (with 2 people on the roof) speed by us. We waved at the driver and he shouted out the window that he would be back. Five minutes later he fulfilled his promise and returned with an empty van. Austin, Katie, Kindy, and Zach all climbed inside the back of the van, but the mate told me to sit up front. I just hopped up there before realizing that he probably just wanted a closer look at my [5 days unshaved] legs. I'm glad I did sit up there though because it gave me a great view for the trip into Agona Junction. We flew down the bumpy hills like we were on a rollercoaster--the wooden kind, not the steel kind. Then we topped one of the highest hills in the area. I turned around and saw one of the most beautiful sights I've seen in all of Africa (or the U.S. for that matter). The ocean waves crashed against the rocky shore below as dark rain clouds pelted the surrounding mountains creating a grayish-blue curtain over the landscape. Of course the battery in my camera was dead. It wouldn't have been able to do it justice anyway. Overall it was a fantastic send-off from Africa. It left me with enough intrigue to make me want to come back...

...Which is something I'm hoping to do next summer. I'm embarking on a year-long fundraiser as soon as I get home and will hopefully be able to do more "useless" things at Peace and Love Orphanage. This may sound childish, but I'll help Africa if I want to.

I should give him a tour of the rat-infested orphanage. Better yet, I'll let the children show him around.

fish head stew.

I'm guessing it's been an eventful day...considering this is my 3rd blog post. Tonight (after eating pizza), I came into my room where my roommate sat cutting yams. "Eh roomie, you want yam tonight?" she said. I was full, but I always have time for her boiled yams and cabbage stew. So Mavis came over and the 3 of us sat at the desk eating the tasty Ghanaian dish. I felt something crunchy. I figured it was a bone...but when I spit it out I realized that it was round. Cassandra's face lit up like a Christmas tree and she began to laugh histerically...and then Mavis joined in on her laughter. You guessed it...I was chewing on the eyeball of a fish! I must say, it was a lot more crunchy than I had anticipated. I always figured an eyeball would be chewy. I think I can now say that I have had the African experience.

I have chewed on an eyeball.

mmmkay, goodnight.

Return trip perhaps.

I went by the orphanage today. Blessing seems to be doing better and is getting more and more alert every day. He was a little sick earlier today though. Probably because the nurse tends to give him milk that has gone sour in the heat, but other than that...he's doing just fine. I got stranded there in another thunder storm today. The older children were still in school so I just helped out Emily in the kitchen with the little ones, fixing bottles and such. We talked about how many things need to be improved at the orphanage. I had to change Dadum's diaper and I couldn't find any baby wipes. So Emily went in the closet next to the kitchen to get toilet paper. She slowly opened the door and took a long look around before dodging in there and snatching a roll of toilet paper off the shelf. I started laughing and she told me that last time she went in there a huge rat ran out from the closet. I've seen rats there too, as well as cock roaches. These rats are probably the only fat things in Ghana. I'm pretty sure both the rats and the cock roaches are shooting some roids. Fat and ugly.

I'm going to try to come back here next summer, armed with a lot more fundraiser money. I would like to rebuild the kitchen (shack) out back as well as repair the kitchen inside the orphanage. It could use better sealed doors, new cabinets, etc. There are a lot of other things I would like to do to improve their condition, so hopefully this return trip will happen. I am also hoping to get a medical student or two interested in going so that the kids can have check-ups. The hospitals here are not very sanity, practical, or useful. I learned that during the 4-5 trips I took to take care of Blessing. Emily weighed them this week and found that the majority of them were very under-weight and malnourished. She told me that if she asks the house mothers if the children have eaten at night (when she's trying to figure out who still needs to eat)...they never know. The older kids usually end up taking care of the younger ones. It's a miracle [some] of them have made it past infancy. They have big malnourished bellies and I would guess most of them have worms. I entertained the idea of taking some of them to the hospital for check-ups, but there's no way. The hospitals around here almost always make you stay the night, even when it isn't necessary. You're more likely to pick up some sort of illness while at the hospital trying to get better. Anyway, stay posted for more fundraiser information for my trip next year. I will have to raise a rather substantial amount of money to do all of the things I need to do. I may end up having to use some of it to cover my flight. Flights here run anywhere around $2,000 and I doubt I will be able to raise that much with school and all. I'll see what I can do though. Thanks everyone for your support so far!

Africa needs to help Africa

Stephanie and I hanging out in Kwame's shop.

Stephon and I before I left Kokrobite.

This weekend I went back to Kokrobite (for the fourth time) to relax after taking all of my finals. Kokrobite is not very far from Legon. It takes about 1.5-2 hours to get there depending on traffic and the availbility of trotros. I hung out with Stephon again, as always. Before I left, he gave me a drum and would not let me pay him for it. He said I need to learn how to play so when I come back we can play together, haha.

On one of my first weekend trip with ISEP, our program director made a comment that "Africa needs to help Africa." I saw that happen this weekend in Stephon's shop. He was sitting there carving salt and pepper shakers out of calabash when all of these children started pouring in. They stood there like they were waiting for something. He reached behind him and pulled out a bag full of bread and began feeding these children. I asked him if he always feeds them and he nodded and said that sometimes they wake him up in the morning because they are hungry and want some breakfast. These children are obviously very poor and he knows that they might not get a decent meal that day if he doesn't do his part. I think that if there were more people like Stephon on this continent, the African predicament could be greatly reduced and more easily developed.

On Sunday afternoon, I ran into some exchange students I know from Legon. We were walking down the beach to visit a monkey sanctuary in a nearby jungle when we saw some local village fishermen dragging something up the beach. Upon closer observation we found that this "something" was a giant sea turtle that they were going to cook for dinner. There was a rope tied around one of the turtle's legs and they were dragging it on its back. Stephanie, who is a mild vegetarian and definite hippie, ran up to them and started begging them to let it go. She kept on telling them it was an endangered species, a term I'm sure they could not understand. She then told them that she would pay them 10 cedis to let it go. The people were getting angry with her and some of them thought it was hilarious that this tiny little obruni girl was telling them to set their dinner free. One man began taunting the turtle and kicking it. Stephanie, as well as the rest of us, were very upset about all of this. One man told us that the turtle would feed them for a long time. It made me think...where do you draw the line between protecting endangered animals and feeding hungry people. I love animals, and I've always been that way. My mom always catered to my animal-loving desires and helped me nurse a lot of creatures back to health when I was a child. I hate the thought that these beautiful, 100-year-old sea turtles could no longer be around in the next decade. But I think there comes a time when you have to allow these things to happen for the sake of human existance. I don't know if this is the case in Kokrobite, but when I visited Butre I noticed a lot of lights from fishing boats at night. Yow and Keira (the owners of Ghana Spirit in Butre) told me that those lights were coming from Korean fihing boats. Apparently a Korean fishing company signed a contract (probably through bribary) with some Ghanaian governmental figure. This contract allows the Koreans to fish off the coast. The problem is that when the local village fishermen pull in their nets in the morning...they are empty. I don't know if this is a problem in Kokrobite, but it would make sense that they would need to eat this turtle.

Anyway, I will be going by the orphanage later to pay the tiler. If anyone is planning on sending in money to help out with the tiling costs (as I have run short of money), please send the checks to my mom's house as quickly as possible. I will be leaving Ghana in 9 days. : (

525 Timberline Drive

Lenoir City, TN 37772