The Second Week

Most of my time in Sandema is spent three places. Here are some memorable moments from my second week in each of those places.

At Work 

• My supervisor gifted me with the Buli name 'Agonaway' which translated means 'She who sleeps with God.' . The other interns haven't stopped chuckling about this, and I have yet to figure out if there's a misunderstanding with the translation or if I have been given a unique and scandalous name. Either way, I think I will continue to introduce myself as "Brittany. Yes, Brittany. Bri-tt-any.  Yes, that's close." rather than discover for myself the true meaning of this new name. 
• I spent the majority of my work time this week, and lots of non-work time, co-authoring a program proposal. When it was finally ready for submission on Friday we brought it to our supervisor and explained what we had been working on. He immediately commented it was great we'd taken initiative to write this proposal and then finished his sentence with "So you were doing work this week?" acknowledging that he'd thought we'd spent the past week wasting time behind our computer screens. Fingers crossed the program proposal is successful and we have mutually-agreed upon work to do next week, or his fears may indeed be a very real reality.  
• On tuesday all of us interns were pulled in on a 6 hour program meeting. After spending 5.5 hours listening, and taking detailed notes so as to avoid completely embarrassing myself by falling asleep, I was asked to give my opinion. Having only seen two days of the program run I suggested I couldn't comment on the program complexities, but offered a comment on the need for 'templates' for the forms that are consistently used. The fact that I spoke in the meeting, and had a relevant suggestion, was evidently a significant moment and my supervisor urged the room to applaud my contribution (the only applause of the sort). Though this felt patronizing, in some way it must have been intended to be a hilarious sort of honour. That is until the program director chimed in and said to the room "I sent you templates a year ago. You haven't been using them?" With the room dead silent all I could think was "Well done you pot-stirrer. This is how to make friends with your colleagues." 

At Home 

• We discovered one of the easiest ways to make friends with our host sisters is to be completely ridiculous with them and make them laugh. Fortunately this requires no effort on our part. During a recent power-outage (which coincidentally also brings a water shortage to our family as we have an electric pump) Katie and I sported headlamps to go about our evening activities. What to us seemed completely normal was the most hysterical moment of the evening, especially when Katie offered her headlamp to the girls studying. Note to self, normal is weird. 
• I discovered hundreds of termites infesting our washroom, and the sink in the hallway. Calling my host sisters (my go-to response for everything) resulted in them setting a fire in the hallway to get rid of the termites. I now have a giant burned piece of the floor to remind me of the little buggers every time I walk past. 
• While searching for cutlery in the cupboard I came face to face with a giant cockroach. I gasped, and did a little dance as I made my way to the opposite side of the kitchen. This is about when my host sister Laura rolled her eyes and nonchalantly removed it from the kitchen. Both my response and her response were similar to when I discovered a bat trapped in the hallway, and when I found a spider the size of my hand in the door. There may be some ways in which I am relieved to not have to be a good African wife. 

On Bicycles

• We discovered that when our supervisor suggested we not stay in town past 8 or 9 in the evening he wasn't trying to keep us from getting into trouble but that there simply isn't anything happening in town past then. One evening Katie and I decided to venture to town late and failed to discover anything to a beautiful, and quiet town. The positive element however, is that we must be adjusting well to the bike ride to town as this was the first time either of us had suggested returning to town again 'just for fun' and it's ceased to be a chore to make the 2+ trips to town everyday. 
• My roommate and I discovered our Ghanaian hospitality one evening this week when we offered up our bicycle to a visiting friend knowing it would help him get home at a reasonable time and we could get it back the next day at work. This meant Katie and I were left with one bicycle for the commute to work the next morning. After several unsuccessful attempts at doubling (and providing much entertainment to our neighbours) Katie and I made our way down the dirt road to work. As we rode past the elementary school I heard all of the students in the school yard begin to laugh at the two foreigners on one bicycle, and was laughing along with them, until Katie hit a speedbump I wasn't anticipating and I was launched from my perch on the back. Somewhere between my falling off the bike, and my running to catch up and hop back on as Katie pedalled, I heard the schoolyard turn to hysterical laughter. If nothing else, I will succeed at my role as the local SmalleySmalley in providing endless entertainment. 

Felica Food Network

As a Felica (yet another name for white person) in Sandema cooking is an adventure like no other. I have had a thoroughly enjoyable week of exploring the possibilities, and having minor missteps that always end in laughter. Here's a brief overview & my tips for success for Sandema cooking. 

On Groceries 

• Forget everything you have ever learned about grocery shopping. You don't have a fridge and it's 40 degrees outside. Buy enough vegetables for one day, or two if you have to. Be prepared for them to be mouldy on the second day. 
• Come to terms with it now: Buying eggs will become a balancing act and it will take you a week to finally succeed in getting a full batch of eggs home unbroken. Buy extra, double bag them, and hold the bag on your wrist as you ride home. Ride slowly through the unavoidable pot holes, and extra slow over the rocky-dirt sections of the road. Essentially, ride slowly. 
• If a bag of powdery stuff only costs 10p (~5cents) it's not corn flour. Disregard the lady in the market, she is only saying yes to your question because she doesn't understand you. If you buy this bag of 5cent yellow stuff you are buying ground up tree bits that have no english name. You should also then not put this in your tortilla recipe; it won't end with edible results. If you add this to your tortilla recipe, you should certainly sample it with your host sister to see her reaction. 
• Similarly, if you ask about a bag of seeds and the lady tells you it is in fact pumpkin seeds, don't buy it. Don't try to toast these. If you do though, definitely toast them in front of your host sister. When she tells you it's an inedible seed that needs to be ground and added to a fish sauce begin raiding your cupboard and holding up every food item. "Is this a tomato?! Is this salt?! Is this flour?!" you can say. Watch her laugh hysterically as she confirms you do correctly know some of the food items here. 

On Facilities 

• If you feel like you are being electrocuted when you pick up a pot off the stove, you aren't. You are however being attacked by hundreds of tiny bugs running out of the potholder and up your arms. You may want to handle this by screaming, throwing your arms up in the air, and slapping them off. If you're lucky you will succeed in flinging half these bugs into your roommate's hair just before your african hosts come into the kitchen. Chaos and laughter may ensue.
• If you need water from the kitchen sink move the large brick from off the spout, and fiddle with the inner workings of the tap until water comes out. Turn this off as soon as possible to avoid wasting it, and replace the brick. This will require you to balance the heavy side of the brick slightly to the right of the tap. If you don't get it just right the tap will continue running. 
• Don't try to substitute a freezer as a fridge. Your host family won't be impressed and all your bags of purified water will burst.

Cooking is strictly serious business in Sandema. 

On Hosting 

• Murphy's law suggests if you invite the other interns over for a home cooked meal to celebrate your first week of your internship, your stove will run out of propane and you will have to cook over a charcoal pot. 
• Your host sisters will find it hysterical and wonderful that you are cooking over a charcoal pot in the courtyard. They will however, not approve of the flatbreads you and your roommate roll by hand and grill, or the giant pot of vegetarian chilli you prepare. You may not approve of the fact that it takes 4.5 hours to cook dinner. Such is life. 
• When your host sister's friend Janet arrives to watch you cook over the charcoal stove tell her firmly: "Look! I am learning to be a better African wife!". The fact that you are cooking chilli might dispute this argument, but maintain that you are learning and it's all part of your plan to find a good husband.  
• Enjoy an evening sitting on the roof, under the stars, eating delicious food. Felica cooking in Sandema might not be so bad after all. 

The 'happy first week' rooftop celebration for the SFDers. 

10 Steps to Doing Your Laundry in Sandema

1. Ask your host sister Laura for buckets to wash your clothes. When she provides you with these ask her to show you how to get water and then ask where you can wash your clothes. This will affirm your incompetence before you have started. 

2. Bring a stool with you to the courtyard, and slop as much water as possible out of your bucket as you carry it from the well. Both these items will remind everyone in the house you are not African. 

3. Start scrubbing your clothes and pretend to be unaware that Laura is staring at you from the window. When she appears in the courtyard smirking say to her with enthusiasm: "I'm doing a great job right?! Look how clean this is." She is definitely lying when she tells you "It's not clean." It is. 

4. When Laura tells you she will wash your clothes for you tell her you must learn. If this fails, remind her you can't possible find a good husband if you don't learn. Wait for her to stop laughing and tell her you are serious. Remind her of this fact every time she critiques your washing. 

5. Wash alongside your roommate and Laura, until the second host sister, Jennifer, arrives home. When Laura calls to her from the courtyard and starts to giggle mid-sentence, shout "She is telling you about how good we are this isn't she!?" to Jennifer. Wait to hear Laura say quietly "I'm telling her to come wash your clothes." 

6. Repeat steps 2 - 4 as often as necessary, with both Laura and Jennifer. When their friend Janet arrives repeat these steps with her. 

7. Dump your clean clothes in the rinse water and watch as Laura and Jennifer add soap to the bucket and begin to rewash everything you have just washed. 

8. Start to wash your underwear, and don't be worried when Janet takes your underwear away from you to clean it better. Laura and Jennifer will rewash all of it anyways, even the pieces Janet has scrubbed. 

9. Attempt to look busy washing the same pair of underwear for a long time until finally one of the girls says "You've got it!". Nod and smile. If you have open sores on your knuckles from scrubbing hard, you may actually be somewhat close to knowing how to wash properly. 

10. Attempt to help them finish by hanging clothes on the line, and disposing of the water. They won't let you do either of these things, but you can try. Beg them to compliment you on how clean your clothes are and what a good job you have done. This will end in laughter. Thank them endlessly for helping. 

After all of this is done you'll see Janet head back to her home. You will conclude correctly that she has come over simply to watch you wash your laundry and laugh at you. If you're lucky, later that night, you will hear your host sisters retell this story to their friends. Congratulations you crazy SmalleySmalley, you've made their day.  

a smiley smiley thing.

I have finally sorted out this internet thing here in Ghana, and expect to be able to post semi-regularly. The below post was meant to be published on monday May 20th but was interrupted by a power-outage. It's finally up now. 

Also check out the "Welcome to Sandema" post just below. 

If us SmileySmileys (aka 'SmalleySmalleys, meaning white people) weren't crazy enough already, our african sisters in our house have just witnessed my roommate Katie and I roaming our backyard for the better part of an hour searching for phone service and an internet connection. I'm fairly certain they didn't know what to do with us when we borrowed lawn chairs from the front room and toted our computers around, giddy at the thought of finding enough bars to establish an internet connection. Of course they didn't realize we'd already searched the house, and the roof for an internet connection. The yard is our last resort. This is Africa, or TIA, is what us SmileySmileys like to say when things go this way. We've already spent an adventure-filled 3 days in Sandema and had our first official day on the job today. 

I have begun navigating the language barrier of communicating in English. I speak too fast they say, and they pronounce words very differently from how I do, but re-learning how to communicate in my native tongue may not be easy. After hearing me introduce myself to a colleague, my supervisor confessed he needed to confirm my name. "Oh it's Brittany?" he asked, showing me my phone number in his cellphone contact list. "I thought it was this." I literally had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing when I saw he'd written my name as 'Brainy'. 

"Keep it." I told him. "It makes me look smart." 

This same supervisor, Maxwell, invited me to accompany him to a funeral on Saturday. It was an exciting opportunity to meet many of the respected individuals from Sandema I may work with over my time here. As we were leaving the funeral three men said something to Maxwell in Buli. He laughed, grabbed my hand, and we started walking away. (I am, for the record, also attempting to adjust to hand-holding being acceptable between anyone and everyone and not meaning anything) 

"Did you understood what they said back there?" Maxwell asked me. 

"I understood well enough." I replied. "Are they offering many cows?" At this Maxwell went into hysterical laughter and we began to retrace our steps. As soon as we were close enough he shouted to the men. 

"How many cows will you offer? She wants to know!" The men too, began to laugh, and one approached me. 

"How many cows are you asking for?" He questioned. I smiled. I know the fair price for a bride is around 10 cows. 

"Oh well, I thought at least 200 would be fair." 

"200!" He shouted. "Fair?" 

"Minimum." I replied back. And soon enough there were ten men circled around me, engaged in a bidding war, for how many cows they would offer. I haven't yet, accepted any of these proposals. However, I have bumped into at least one of these men in town and he complained about how high my bride pice is and lamented that he may not be able to find the money. I told him my father is the one he should talk to, but that he is very picky. 

Maxwell later questioned me about how I knew men were expected to offer cows, clearly impressed I would play their game. I simply chuckled at how easy it is to play. Most of the men don't actually want to marry the crazy white girl. 

And it's just another day navigating Africa and getting ready for my internship to start. 

Welcome to Sandema

This post was written on May 17th. 

My thermometer tells me it is 40 degrees in the shade but all I know is I've drank nearly three litres of water today and still have yet to pee any of it out. Instead every surface of my body is covered in one, immensely thick coat of sweat, so that every time I move a little more drips off my nose or pools in the creases of my elbows. I am sweating much more than I ever have before. 

The contents of my first aid kit are strewn around me, and I attempting to jimmy-rig the sole electrical outlet in the room to keep power pulsing through the fan for more than 5 second increments. It takes me many cycles of electricity-on-fan-on-electricity-off to discover not only does the electrical outlet only work when perfectly poised, but that the fan doesn't work at all. I switch to trying to get the fridge running, and start duct taping the outlet to keep it running. As I'm putting the finishing touches on my duct tape creation I hear my name being bellowed from a front room somewhere. 

I make my way down the hall to a see a man I have never met before shouting my name. 'Bridgany. Bridgany!' He calls. Finally I am close enough that he sees me. 'Uh huh.' he says. After we shake hands, the man and the woman accompanying him, simply stare at me. "I'm Brittany." I say, stating the obvious. They nod but make no move to introduce themselves, though I have no idea who they might be. 

"How long have you been in this house?" The man says in a way that sounds accusatory but I know is not. 

"I just arrived." 

He smiles,  "From Canada." he says "Welcome to Ghana. I'm here to see Pastor." 

The man finds pastor and I return to my room. On the way feel the familiar snap as my flipflop breaks beyond repair. I pull out my first aid kit and start digging for a way to make a temporary fix, getting lost in thought as I do. 

It's friday afternoon. I have just traveled from Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso to Sandema, Ghana. On the way I detoured to Temiele, accompanied by a Dutch man I met at the bus station, to see the famous houses there. Our on-the-fly sightseeing arrangements are the kind best made in Burkina and the 2 hour detour went seamlessly - filling time before I needed to cross the border to make the 2:00 bus and adding another fun adventure to my Burkina travelogues. 

Just before the border my taxi driver warned me not to make conversation with the border officials. Though I promised to follow his advice I somehow found myself in a discussion with the senior officer about my thesis. Regretting this immediately, and fearful he would suddenly tell me I wasn't allowed in the country, I tried to figure out how we'd got on this topic of conversation. "Do you think there is child labour in Sandema?" he asked me. "I've never been there, I'd have no way of knowing." I replied back, praying this was the right response. He nodded, and moments later I was on my way.

The 2:00 bus was not a bus at all, but a trotro - a van that's usually filled past to capacity and that drives to the smaller towns. It was market day in Sandema, so there were a lot of people going. I got to ride shot gun, which was especially interesting on this trip. I had the clearest view of the moment when our vehicle clipped a moto on the road beside us, and the moment right following, when the driver decided to drive faster instead of stopping. Fortunately the moto driver was fine, and we all made it to Sandema in one piece. 

From there my supervisor Maxwell picked me up and brought me to where I'll be staying: Pastor's House. It's a hike into town from here, but Maxwell promised to bring me a bicycle in the morning. He also introduced me to some British girls staying a little ways down the road and immediately they invited me for dinner. Someone will pick me up, Maxwell tells me, for now I should go home and get settled. 

There's a knock at my door, interrupting my thoughts, and I scramble to answer. There is a woman I haven't met before standing with Maxwell's 5 year old daughter. She smiles at me but says nothing. "I'm Brittany." I say, again stating the obvious. This time though, she gives her name, and soon we're on the back of her moto headed for dinner. As we drive down the dirt road as large bug snaps into the side of my face. I reach up to brush it away and can feel that it's several inches long with large wings. I don't look at it - it could be anything. 

As they say, This is Africa. And I've finally arrived for my three month stay in Sandema.  

The 3 Year Visit

My first true update from Africa is a little bit overdue but, due to internet issues, I am hoping you'll accept that's it's better late than never. I have been blessed with the opportunity to spend the past week and a half in Burkina Faso. I have spent the majority of this time in Yako, reconnecting with Sheltering Wings, spending time with old & new friends, cuddling babies, and learning lots about what is happening in Yako these days.

One friend told me he knew at the beginning of the year I was coming this year to visit again. I asked him how he knew when I didn't even know at that time, and he told me it was simple. Three years ago he, and Edouard, had asked me when I would come back to visit. "Will you come next summer?" they asked. "No. I don't think so." I'd replied. They nodded. "What about in three years?". I smiled, and said "Yes. I will be here again in three years." And three years later I was reminded of this promise I had long forgotten, but still was blessed enough to be able to fulfil. 

All in all, my heart is so full of stories and wonderful moments from this visit that for one of the first times in all of my time in Africa I have no words to begin to describe it all. I'll leave you with a few photos (more photos on my photo blog) until I find words again. They're simply a sampling of a little bit of the Yako life... 

The Big Kid Yako Family (missing 3 kids). 

Spending time with old friends & cuddling babies. 

There were so many adorable little ones!  

Like these two. 

My pal Achille digs his new wheels. 

Visiting my family's sponsor child Fatimata and her family. 

Being silly with the big kids. 

Got to spend time with this remarkable woman. Love Mama Ruth!


Tomorrow I leave for Ghana. I hope to update here soon. Until then, I am travelling and getting settled in my Students for Development Internship in Sandema.  

The Travelogue

The short of the story is that 17 348km later I have finally arrived in Ouagadougou! 

The long of the story is there were lots of fun travel moments, but I wanted to share with you my absolute favourite. 

It starts back in 2009 when I first came to Burkina: while flying in I was shocked when the plane started its descent into near perfect darkness. Though we were landing in Ouagadougou, the typical indicators for a city landing of street lights and bright skyscrapers was absent from the city-scape. Ever since that first flight I have dreamt about landing in Ouagadougou in daylight so I could see what the city ‘really’ looked like. It was one of those 'silly' dreams that doesn't actually factor in to any significant life change, but that I thought would be a cool moment. 

This year I booked my flights with Air Ethiopia, and confirmed all aisle seats for the extra comfort factor. As soon as tickets were finalized I realized the 1pm arrival was my perfect chance to get a seat to see Ouagadougou in the daylight, but that I’d missed it by requesting all isle seats. I considered trying to change it, but never got around to it in the midst of all the busyness of preparing to go.

Today I thought about this again as I was walking towards the gate to board. “How cool would it be,” I thought, “if something happened and I got that window seat.” I quickly forgot about it, boarded the plane and found my seat. Only there was someone else sitting in it. We compared boarding passes and we were both assigned to 16C on the aisle.

I tracked down a flight attendant and she nervously disappeared to sort out the issue. She came back, profusely apologizing, and asking if I would be willing to sit in the emergency exit row instead. Of course I was – I wanted the extra leg room. “It’s a window seat though.” She said.

Of course it was.

How cool is that? Just a little moment, that felt like a note of encouragement, and had me smiling the whole flight.

I watched the transition from the rolling green hills of Ethiopia to the flat burnt red of West Africa. Each of these landscapes, and the ones in between, dotted with shimmering tin roofs that could just barely distinguish a village from the land that surrounded it.

It was simply, a totally loveable flight.

So I am here in Ouagadougou now, eagerly anticipating an early morning wake-up so I can get myself out the door, onto the bus, and to church in Yako tomorrow morning.

I’ll update you from there! 

Africa Bound

The whirlwind weeks of school, work, packing, and visiting with friends and family are now officially behind me. And I am Africa bound! This evening I will start the first leg of my days of travelling to Burkina Faso where I'll spend two weeks reconnecting with everyone at Sheltering Wings. After that the next part of my journey in Northern Ghana commences.

I'll be updating here frequently. You can also sign up for my email updates & prayer newsletter here if you want to keep in touch that way. 

Peace & blessings. Next time you hear from me I'll be in flip flops and enjoying the sights and sounds of one of my favourite places.