Easily Fooled

I have been in South Africa for almost two weeks now and it is completely different than anything I have ever experienced.

I was swept off my feet by the beauty of this country...and how easily I was fooled.

Cape Town is the most breathtaking city I have ever been in. In fact, it is so amazing that it manages to cover all the flaws and struggles of the people living here.

No where in the sunsets, ocean, mountains, Long street, music, or cute coastal shops do you see the blemishes.

No where in those things do you see the violence that tore and is tearing apart the lives of its citizens.

No where in those things do you see that out of the whole world, the largest population of people living with AIDS is here.

No where in these places do you see the townships and poverty of millions of colored and blacks that were second class citizens for decades.

Even the clothes worn outside the township act as a mask for the tin shack the person lives in back inside the township- sometimes without running water and electricity.

How easy it is to travel here and never see the truth and how lucky I am to be shown the real South Africa.

This is not the Dominican Republic where the racism sits on the surface of every aspect of life. It is not Ghana where the city still lacks visible infrastructure like closed sewers.

No, not here. In South Africa it is all separated...poverty from the wealth and beauty. Then again...that's how it was planned.

While they may have come a long way, the word apartheid has never been more real to me...separated.

Yes I know, I am in the Dominican Republic...not Ghana

Today we drove 6 hours to the border of Haiti. It is now 10 hours later and I am still speechless.

I sat in our bus gazing out the windows, unable to say a word. Right in front of me stood the mountain that separated the Dominican Republic from Haiti. Everything I had read about became reality.

The 500 yards approaching the border are completely barren. There is a skinny path of gravel for vehicles to drive on but surrounding the path are once homes now completely flooded. Only the roof-tops are visible, peaking out of the water.

Once at the border there are two gates. The first gate you step through takes you to no-mans land. The second gate crosses you into Haiti. There is a market that stands between the two gates. Once you enter no-mans land you are in a completely anarchic existence where no one can protect you.

We were warned of the risk and danger that we would be putting ourselves in if we chose to enter no-mans land but were given the choice to decide. For those of us interested in crossing into no-mans land we would be given one armed Dominican police officer with no official authority once between the two gates.

I chose to cross through into no-mans land. I needed to feel the fear that these people feel everyday.

While Haiti is not no-mans land, the level of security seems relatively the same. Imagine living in a failed state...one where not even the police can protect you; living in a city where 450 gangsters roam the streets due to a collapsed prison.

I did not even spend 10 seconds in no-mans land before turning back and heading for the bus. My heart was in my throat.

I was able to get back on the bus, turn around, and drive away from that insecurity. I get to leave these places whenever I choose. But every time I leave, I know that I leave people behind that are trapped there.

Nothing can explain standing in front of the border, knowing that right through the second gate there is a place so forsaken it seems hopeless.

Haiti was in arms reach of me today but I was not able to do anything. I drove away from the faces of Haitians that are all too similar to those faces of Ghanaians reminding me that they were never supposed to be there to begin with...they were forced.

It is not fair.


Jimani is where we were.

A Blessing

May God bless you with discomfort. Discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger. Anger at injustice, oppression and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears. Tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their pain into joy.

May God bless you with foolishness. Enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

And the blessing of God, who creates, redeems and sanctifies, be upon you and all you love and pray for this day, and forever more. Amen

1,095 Days Later

It was 3 years ago today that I first left for Ghana.

Due to some complications I am not back in Ghana as originally planned. I am still searching for the reason why. I have been needing to write lately but haven't done it and I thought this would be as good of a time as any.

Lately it has been easier not to talk about Ghana. Because when I finally do, it seems like too much to handle.

My heart reaches emotional capacity and all my feelings of love, anger, frustration, joy, and sadness seem to surface. The lump in my throat returns and I know that I could sit and cry for hours if I allowed myself to.

But they wouldn't be tears of sadness. They would be tears of fear, anxiety, determination, passion, and love.

I see what I want to become and I am running towards that but there are times when it seems just out of reach...I never have been much of a runner.

Is it possible that I am too selfish of a person to become who I want to be?

I don't want to just leave a dent, I want to change the world. A dent is not enough, a dent means that I did not try hard enough, that I was too selfish.

I am reading "Mountains Beyond Mountains" right now about Paul Farmer and there are so many things that I relate to. I want to jump through the pages of the book and ask Dr. Farmer, "Wait! How did you get past that? How do you deal with that? How did you make that decision?!" I read that he struggled with some of the same things that I am struggling with, but it doesn't explain how he got past those things, they are just little blurbs in the midst of his successes.

But even though I don't have those answers, I am encouraged, because I know that I am not the first one to feel this way, and I certainly will not be the last. I will overcome these struggles.

I will strive to be selfless. I am striving to be selfless.

Beauty in this World.

I am home-this will be my final blog post for awhile (until I am back in Ghana)

Coming home this year was different, not easier, but different.

I still cried uncontrollably the entire way home-I let out six months of pent up emotions in one plane ride. I cried so hard and for so long that for two days after coming home my eyes were red and swollen. Its no wonder that the woman who originally told me check-in was closed for my flight from NYC to Chicago quickly changed her mind and told me to run for it. (I'm worried I might be blacklisted as a security threat on Delta)

But I landed in Chicago and my best friend was there to pick me up at the airport...I reached home where my parents were not supposed to be but my mom was waiting inside...the following day my dad cut his traveling short and flew home to see me...that same day my friend Max had a BBQ at his house with our other friends so that I wouldn't have to watch the Ghana vs. US match alone...and it continues...

People all over this country were waiting for me to arrive, waiting to hug me, waiting to support me with something that they know I struggle with.

But I also had a changed attitude.

During the past 2 years I have lost 5 people in my life. I have seen that my time here is not guaranteed. I've learned the importance of life the painful way, but I am glad I learned it.

I've realized that being angry with family and friends back home doesn't make me miss Ghana any less...but that instead, loving them and living life with them brings a happiness that can over-power even some of the hardest days.

I have seen that me coming back home safe is an amazing blessing. Just last week, I heard about the death of Nate Henn, a 25 year old American who was working with Invisible Children in Uganda. He was killed from terrorist bombings while watching the World Cup with local friends and children he mentors.

I acknowledge the burden I place on my family and close friends when I live in Ghana-EVEN if I have just as good of a chance of getting killed here.

So while leaving hasn't gotten easier, I've learned how to live here and be happy with where I am when I am there.


Today is the two year anniversary of the death of Adam Schatz, my should-be uncle. He was 26 years old when he was taken off life support a week after a karting accident.

So it is with Adam, Nate, and the other 4 people I have lost that I quote "From now on, for you, I'll be searching for those moments of always within never. Beauty, in this world."

The good news? I think I am finding that beauty.

Words

It has been awhile since I’ve blogged

Lately words don’t seem to cut it.

Words have always been something that I have relied on whether it is through lyrics, books, or conversation-I have depended on them.

I am lacking words.

What I desire to tell you can’t be explained in words. What I want you to feel won’t be felt by reading these words. But once again I’ll try my best.

For example, when I am asked how I feel about coming home next week I have no answer. A word hasn’t been created yet to describe that feeling…and no, bittersweet is not the word.

But here is what I can tell you. I am choosing to get lost in this world. I have been pushing back the pangs of sadness that come right as I fall asleep. I know that there will be plenty of time to be sad once I leave here so I can’t waste anytime I still have.

I am allowing myself to get caught up in spontaneity, which is something I am normally horrible at. I am being carried away by World Cup fever and the shutter speed of my camera. I am stretching every nerve within me.

Last week I decided to leave the wooden shelter I was standing under and play football in the pouring rain on the pitch that was quickly turning into a sinking mud bath. For an hour I kicked that ball with one of the U10s players (joined later by another volunteer) until we realized we were wading in sewage water. Mud was being flung onto my face each time the ball was kicked.

I then attempted to walk home at 6:30pm in that rain but it started falling so heavily that I could no longer open my eyes. (This kind if rain can’t be described using words-it is something you have to experience before you understand). I got stranded at a friends house for a couple hours until I eventually had to wade knee deep out to a taxi who graciously took me home for free while water poured in through the doors of his car. Most of Accra was knee deep in water.



On Sunday I went to Koforidua, a town 2 hours outside of Accra. I went to visit Edward (one of the boys living in my group home) at his all boys Senior High School. I watched the first Ghana Black Stars match of the World Cup with him at his school. After being mauled by 1,000 boys when Ghana won their match I attempted to go to the street and get a taxi back to the tro station to head to Accra. But what I found at the junction was hundreds of Ghanaians parading through the town of Koforidua in jubilation.

I could have waited an hour and then gotten a taxi but instead I asked someone where the station was; when they pointed in the direction where the crowd was headed, I joined in the parade. I was running alongside the locals that had their faces painted, flags wrapped around them and metal cans to make as much noise as possible. Apparently words couldn't express their happiness and pride either. They were singing, jumping, and shaking their hips. I ran with the parade for 45 minutes celebrating Gyan’s goal/Ghana’s win until I ended up at the tro tro station and got a car back to Accra.

I wish that the United States could have unity and pride like these people.

I hope that words come back to me soon. Until then...

A Yearning Heart

Ever since I was a little girl my mom has told me that she believes I feel emotions more acutely than other people in the world.

I have been accused of being too excited, loving too much, being too sad, caring too much, being too angry…and the list goes on.

So I am going to attempt to explain one of the emotions I feel so deeply that it creates a physical response within me.

The act of yearning: 1) to have an earnest or strong desire; to long for something 2) to feel tenderness, be moved or attracted

This is something I regularly feel in Ghana.

The word itself is something that when spoken can actually be felt...it is a word that carries with it a slight twinge of pain along with desire.

Sometimes I think I can truly feel my heart yearning; I feel my heart move closer to the surface of my chest where it sometimes feels like it will burst through. It is a longing so strong that I am actually physically MOVED.

At times it can make me feel sick, it seems as if the contradiction of what my heart yearns for and what is actually happening causes a painful reaction within me.

My heart yearns for the boys living in my group home to break through their devastating past; it yearns for the other children left at Osu Children's home to survive in a place where hopes and dreams are too frequently snuffed out, it yearns for the boys at Cantonments to succeed in whatever they choose for their life, it yearns for the people of Ghana, for the people of Africa.

But the words above are just words, they can't express the strain I physically feel inside of me when I wish for these things.

They don't reflect my occasional sleepless nights and tensed muscles I acquire when I yearn.

The words can't reveal the sacrifices I would be willing to make to change the circumstances.

But I am yearning and its OK, cause deep down, I know that this is what gives me the understanding that my work here has meaning.

And when it seems these emotions become too much for me to handle I will remember the comforting lyrics of a song that my friend played for me:

"You were blessed by a different kind of inner view: it's all magnified.
The highs would make you fly, and the lows make you want to die."