Merry Christmas; Happy 2006!

I have to say, during those few days leading up to Christmas, I was getting nervous. This was going to be the first Christmas I'd ever spent away from my family and friends. Instead of brushing the snow out of my hair in Maine, I'd be wiping the sweat from my face in Ghana. I am not a big fan of the cold and snow, and I never could understand those silly people who said it "just doesn't feel like Christmas without snow." Until now. Honestly, I think I'm going to miss having the white stuff around this Christmas. One day when I was especially worried about being away from home for the holidays, I met two different Ghanaians named Ebenezer. That can't be a good sign... I'm happy to report that my worries were for nothing. I got to talk to my family Christmas morning. They even let me say a prayer with them before they hung up on me to go open all their presents. And apparently, warm sand and palm trees are actually a decent Christmas substitute for cold snow and evergreens. Even my fears as to what it meant to have met two people named Ebenezer so close to Christmas were aleviated when I met the guy who ran the call center I used to call my family. His name was Emmanuel.

Christmas in Ghana was great. There were nine of us total on the trip (7 volunteers, 1 visiting sister, 1 visiting boyfriend), and everyone was psyched to make our first Christmas away from home a memorable one. Christmas Eve, we hung our stockings that Patrice had made each of us and hoped that Santa would find us by the time we awoke the next morning. Fortunately, thanks to a $5 purchase I made at a supermarket in Ouagadougou, we were not disappointed.

Even after Santa got hot and cranky and had to take off his suit, Christmas morning continued gloriously. We all tore through our stockings admiring all the random trinkets and candies with which the others had stuffed our stockings. We ate Christmas lunch at a place called "The Lobster Man." We ate Christmas dinner at a place called "Dan the Pancake Man." That night, Stephanie treated us all to a small celebration of the first night of Hanakuh. Later in the evening, for the third night in a row, everyone fell asleep watching "It's a Wonderful Life."

All in all, good Christmas. One part of this Christmas I was really looking forward to was to be able to go to a Mass in English for the first time since I left home. You see, Ghana was colonized by the British, so they speak a version of English that, while interesting and often very amusing, is quite understable to any native English speaker. Oh, how easy a life I would have if only the British could have beat the French to Burkina Faso! In any case, Mass on Christmas morning was not quite what I expected. It was held in a small classroom, even smaller than my classrooms in Bomborokuy. By the end of the Mass, there were about 20 of us there, mostly older women and a few small children. The priest was very old and very nice. He spoke very little English. At the beginning of Mass he went off talking to all of us for about ten minutes in a local Ashante dialect. After he was done, he turned to me and did his best to translate:

"I have just said, 'This is our Christmas.'"

He tried to translate for me a few other times, and for the readings he would put the Mass on hold while he dug through an old beaten-up English bible he had in order that I might follow along. I wanted a Mass in English. I needed a Mass in which I felt like I was a member of the same Church as all the other Catholics here in West Africa, even those who don't speak my language. God, of course, gave me the latter.

After Christmas, most of our group headed back to Burkina Faso. There were two of us who were not ready just yet to say goodbye to these Anglophones and their amazing beaches. We continued on along the coast to Cape Coast and after that to Elmina. Both of these bustling cities are home to absolutely beautiful forts which tell absolutely revolting stories. These castles were an integral part of the slave trade. Africans would be captured in Ghana and nearby land-locked countries (like Burkina Faso) and sent to waste away in the dungeons of these forts. If they didn't die in the dungeons themselves, they were likely to die packed like sardines in the ships that would transport them to America. And if they were lucky enough to survive that, they have the life of a slave to look forward to. In one of the dungeons, you could still see the marks where people had tried to claw through the walls and floors with their fingernails, delirious from a lack of food and sleep. One of the dungeons was used for the sole purpose of killing. A "slave" that was getting out of hand would be sent to this dungeon and forgotten about. Every few weeks, the soldiers would clean out this dungeon, dumping all the dead bodies into the sea. It's hard to imagine, but important to realize, how disgustingly inhumane and cruel one man can be to another man.

While at the forts, we met a couple of American marines who were working for the United Nations in Liberia. We caught a ride with them up to the rainforest at Kakum National Park, home to a large canopy walk some 100 feet up in the air. You walk from tree to tree on this suspended bridge of sorts. You are actually walking on a plank of wood set on an extension ladder which sways quite a bit- Sorry Mom, not something you'd be able to do.

In talking to our marine friends, it turns out that if you want to make a lot of money as a civilian, you should work abroad for the UN, not for the Peace Corps. If only I had known that 12 months ago...

We finished up our vacation where we had started it, on a secluded beach near the town of Busua. The British owners of the place call it "The Green Turtle Lodge." I call it "Paradise." Good food, good waves, good British people... Good times. We spent our New Year's there playing board games, drinking by the bonfire, and setting off fireworks (though not necessarily in that order).

Now the only part of the vacation left was the trip home. I try to keep these posts positive, so let me just say this: It was supposed to take 12 hours. It took 30. 'Nuf said.

But now I'm back and ready to get going on the teaching thing. This term I'm going to try to reign in some of that competitive energy my students seem to have and start up a little Bomborokuy Math League. So many of my kids who just seem not to care at all about learning light up when we play a game or have a little competition in class. I'm hoping I can work out an after-school math competition that will motivate some of those kids. Plus it will give me a chance to distribute all the goodies you guys have all sent to me (rulers, pens, backpacks, markers) in a meaningful way. I'll let you know how it goes.

Quick trivia before I sign off:

Which of these presents did I NOT receive from my kind, compassionate parents?

a) A shirt with a bat on it
b) A rubber bat
c) Batman playing cards
d) A battery-operated bat that really flies
e) The car I've been asking for every Christmas for the past 10 years...

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, everyone!

Regards,

josh