Operation Ghana

Sunday January 27, 2008

That’s Just Part of The Experience!

There is a crocodile outside Aaron’s bedroom window… Let me repeat… there is a CROCODILE outside Aaron’s window!! Yes, you guessed it we are at the botel. But the botel story will have to wait. You will not believe the day we have had.

I got up at 6:30 this morning. That is the first “normal” nights sleep I have had. Though I do not normally wake up at 6:30 in the morning, but whatever! The plan was for half of us to go to church at the deaf school and the other half would go to church with Marco. Derek, Alex and I went with Marco. Everyone else stayed in Mampong. From what I hear the older deaf students came in and put on church for the younger deaf students. Since it is the weekend, there are not many teachers around.

But I HAVE TO tell you about our adventure!! We needed to take a taxi an hour to the church in Medina. We would not be returning to Mampong after church. Everyone else would pack up for Cape Coast and pick us up on the way to botel. I still feel confused about days and times! Anyway, I knew church started at 9 and we needed to leave by 8. So, I started packing two days worth of everything when I got up at 6:30.

Yesterday Curry pointed out how many people were wearing all black or all red. He said they were on their way to funerals. Today as I got ready for church and pulled on my red skirt I thought, “Oh No!! Am I allowed to wear red?” Heidi said it would be fine if I wore a red skirt. Marco met us at our door a little before 8. He asked if he could borrow a “new” Signing Time DVD. The school only has #1 My First Signs, #2 Playtime Signs and #13 Welcome To School. Marco keeps the Signing Time DVD’s at his home so that they don’t get stolen or sold. We had brought a full set and a few extra #1’s. I handed him #3 and he put it in his pack. I assumed he wanted it for one of the days we would be traveling in Cape Coast.

As we waited for the taxi, Marco told us it is often difficult to get a taxi on Sunday. Many drivers take the day off. He said that there was one Sunday where he waited on the side of the road for over 2 hours and finally gave up and went back in. Well I figured we might need a taxi with the right saying on the back. “Thy Will Be Done” or “In His hands” would work. I’d even take “My Partner the Savior”. What we got was the smallest, oldest taxi in the world. I asked Derek to PLEASE snap a picture of the back passenger side tire. The wheel looked like it was a spare that had been bolted, braced and willed into place. Of course I was sitting right over that tire.

Marco was in the front. Alex and Derek were in the back with me.

We headed toward Aburi and as the little car coughed and chugged up the hill, Derek looked at me and whispered, “I think I can! I think I can!” It worked. We made it to the top of the hill and then took the windy road down toward Accra. Derek smiled and said, “Can you believe how fast he is going?” I glanced at the speedometer which had no needle at all! Half way down the winding mountain road the car began chugging loudly and then KABOOM!!!! It felt and sounded like the tire under me exploded. The car filled with dark smoke. We covered our faces and coughed as the driver pulled over. My window was up and I had no way to roll it down, since the handle was missing. If I had a pair of pliers maybe, but no such luck! Everyone jumped out of the car. Everyone except me, the window was not the only thing missing a handle!! Marco was outside my door and I banged on the window – “Open! Open!” I signed. I was still holding my breath. “Please!! Open!! Nothing!!” I signed and pointed to my door. He popped open my door and signed, “Sorry!” He thought I was asking if it was safe to open my door now.

The jimmy-rigged tire was still intact, much to my surprise. I looked on the road to see if there was any tell tale sign of what had exploded. Nothing! But I had felt something. It was right under my seat. We looked around and under the car but could not see anything NEW that was wrong with it. It was still a tiny rust bucket with mismatched panels. The driver got in and started letting the car roll down the hill. Was he abandoning us or was this just the routine starting of a taxi? He popped it in gear and it started sputtering as it drove a few yards. We cautiously followed. He stopped the car and got out. “My exhaust” he said, “No! It’s good! Come on!” And he waved us back toward the car.

I looked alarmingly at Marco and Derek. “Are we really doing this? Are we getting back in?” We were and we did. There were still some funky odd fumes in the car. My eyes were watering and since my window was still closed tight, I leaned in toward Marco’s window. We were on our way. Suddenly the car started making a clanging sound. Alex, Derek and I braced for another KABOOM. No KABOOM came, but Marco turned around and asked if there was a new “tick, tick, tick”. I said, “Yep!” Even without his hearing aid, he could hear it, or feel it.

We made it down the windy mountain. We mostly rolled. We made it through a small toll booth were police officers stood with guns on either side. And finally the little engine that could- simply couldn’t. We pulled off to the side of the road and got out again. Our driver said he would find us a new taxi. We stood on the corner and waited. Marco looked at his watch and said, “We are going to be late.” I was more concerned about being safe.

After 15 minutes we could no longer see our driver anywhere. We were just standing on the corner of any street, any town, Ghana. I was shaking my head in disbelief. Finally our driver came running toward us shouting, “I found a car!!”

We walked down a dirt road and up another. I kept looking back at the main road to get my bearings in case this wasn’t what it was supposed to be. Another dirt road with shack shops lining the sides and that is where our chariot awaited us. Marco saw the car and turned to me signing, “This guy must have a thing for old cars!” We were standing next to another mismatched heap with the words “FEAR NOT UNDERSTANDING” printed on the back window. Then the new driver got in and said, “Wait here!” The car was facing up the street. We needed to go down the street. We stood. We watched. We waited. The driver and two other men got behind the car and began pushing it up the dirt road. The driver hopped in and the men continued running and pushing until Ta-Da!! It started! He turned the car around and we all warily got it.

We arrived to church 15 minutes late. I’m sure no one took notice of the 3 of us walking in Marco sat in the very front row and took the chair beside him, and turned it around for me to interpret for him. Yes I was facing the entire congregation. I made it through the first session. Now, just so you know, I am not an interpreter. I am a mom. So I interpret often for Leah and others, but I am not trained to do it. Sometimes people think, “Oh you know some sign language, come interpret!” Which is, I am sure, what happened to with Marco’s interpreter in college. The other thing is that church signs are an entirely different language. I managed deciphering the accents pretty well, but found myself fingerspelling a lot of words and then Marco would show me the sign. For example I know the sign for “Gospel” but I didn’t know “Bible”. Plus there are so many names, fingerspelling Abraham, Isaac, and Noah every time slows you down a bit.

After 45 minutes we went into the next class. Marco teaches a sign language class at church! I did not realize this until I was sitting in his class. There are two women in his class. They were so excited to see me. “We LOVE Signing Time!” they said, “You make it so easy to remember the signs!” These women had seen #1, #2 and #13. Marco brought #3 for them! So, I got Signing Timed again, in Ghana.

I talked to them about Leah and Lucy. One of the women had tears in her eyes and said that hearing my story about Leah and Lucy had renewed her faith in Christ. At Curry’s recommendation, we had brought 15 pictures of our family. I gave her one of our family pictures.

Then we watched Signing Time #3 – Everyday Signs. I watched it with them and saw it through their eyes. I could only imagine what they thought of the homes, rooms, schools and other environments you see in the background of Signing Time. Watching it today, everything looked so green and clean. They commented, “All the children look so happy!” I didn’t know how to respond.

We wrapped up and I told them that I would send a DVD #1 – “My First Signs” with Marco, for each of them to take home. They were thrilled! I followed Marco to a meeting for men. I interpreted there. Halfway through the meeting an older man collapsed right outside the door. Some other men helped him up. Church ended at noon.

I called Curry from Marco’s phone and I was not happy to hear they were just about to load into the tro-tro and leave Mampong. I cringed. That meant we had an hour to kill. I hung up and the church cleared out. Then Marco realized that Curry, Heidi and company had never been to this church building before. It had recently changed locations. Uh-oh! We started walking toward the main road. I tried calling Curry twice and got no answer. Marco sent a text, still no answer. We followed Marco to the main road and waited. It was hot and dusty.

We were next to a Shell Gas Station and across the street from a tro-tro stop. We went to the gas station and got cokes, fanta and Fan Ice (vanilla ice cream) and Cocoa Fan (chocolate ice cream). We went back to the corner and waited, assuming that they would easily spot the three oburunis on the corner. Keep in mind this is the third time I have been standing on the side of a road today.

Finally on the third try, Curry answered saying, “We missed the street and are turning around to go to the church.”
“Wait! No! We aren’t at the church. You couldn’t have missed the street. You would have seen us.” I explained again where we were and I could hear Curry repeating the instructions to the driver and DonKwa. Then Curry said, “Give the phone to Marco and have him tell DonKwa where you are.”
“What? You want Marco to talk to DonKwa and give directions?” This seemed absurd since Marco is deaf, but I couldn’t get off that corner fast enough. Curry answered, “YES! Give the phone to Marco.” I handed the phone to Marco and he relayed the exact same information to DonKwa. Telling him we were next to the Shell station across from the tro-tro stop. We waited another 20 minutes and FINALLY our tro-tro pulled up. Glory Hallelujah!!! We climbed in and Marco took a public tro-tro home.

Curry signed to me from a few rows up. “DonKwa never believes me. He doesn’t think I know where I am going. I told him where you were but he thinks I am a dumb oburuni, so he wouldn’t believe me until he heard it from Marco.”

Curry and Heidi were not surprised at all at our taxi tale. They just smiled and said, “Welcome to Ghana! That’s just part of the experience!”

Sunday January 27, 2008 Part 2

Welcome to Croc-Land

It was on the road to Cape Coast that we saw our first bush meat for sale. It is some kind of big rodent splayed out on sticks and it has been cooked. It looks like a squirrel kite. Curry said they were rats, but they look like big squirrels. Maybe the term bush meat is all-inclusive when it comes to rodents.

We also saw a whole new level of villages. Homes made out of dirt and clay with grass roofs, some without roofs. None of these are abandoned buildings. They are homes. I was tired while we drove, but I didn’t want to close my eyes. I knew I might never see anything like this again.

It is so hot, humid and sticky here on the coast. I am so thankful we haven’t had the amount of humidity we anticipated before now.

We checked in at the botel. It’s called a botel because it is built around a swamp. They call it a lagoon. Think Boat and Motel. Oh, yeah there are crocodiles in the lagoon as illustrated by the inviting sign below. “Hey You!! This Way To Crocs!”

One of our four rooms has a bathroom in it. The others use a community toilet and shower. But hey, water comes out of the faucet and the toilets flush! Woo Hoo! Heidi noticed that the sink drains into the bottom of the shower and then it drains outside through a floor level pipe. When Leah and I brushed our teeth I showed her that the water was draining from the sink into the shower. She looked at it, very confused, and asked, “Why?” I had no answer.

At the botel restaurant there are some restrooms, each time someone washes their hands, water streams out from pipes in the wall into the lagoon. You can tell who is using soap and who is not washing at all.

Heidi and I are in the room with the bathroom. Keep in mind that running water does not mean it’s safe. We can’t brush our teeth with it and we still sanitize them after washing them. The fan over the beds gyrates in the most disturbing fashion. The towels in the bathroom are frighteningly stiff and they look filthy. The bathroom “window” is just an open square.

The dead bolt doesn’t work, so we have to lock ourselves in the room with the key. I can hear my mother’s voice asking, “What will you do if there’s a fire?” Maybe it’s not my mother’s voice. Maybe it’s mine. I won’t be using the pillow and I didn’t bring my own. The mattresses are hit or miss. Aaron complained that he could feel slats on his back and had the worst night’s sleep of his life. The light switch is on the far side of the room so you get to stumble in the dark before finding it. There is not a lot of extra light around. Aaron hunches when he passes the fan, the ceiling is so low he is afraid of getting clipped.

A crocodile was bobbing in the water next to where we had dinner in the restaurant. Alex and Leah had spaghetti. Aaron and I had chicken kabobs with rice. The chicken was too spicy for me to eat and I like spicy. The sauce tasted too much like the spicy sauce from the hot dogs a few days ago and well, what more can I say?

I talked to Lucy tonight. She has a cough and a runny nose and she threw up yesterday. (Great!) She started crying really hard as she told me about it on the phone. I know it is NO fun to be sick and it is worse to be sick when your family is on another continent, sleeping next crocodiles and being dumped out of broken taxis, eating beef jerky and dumping well water on our heads.

The good news is I think I am cured of nail biting! I have been a nail biter since I was a little girl and have never been able to break it. Well after this trip I can pretty safely say that I NEVER want to put my hands in or near my mouth again! NEVER EVER, EVER!!

And I swear there is a seven-foot crocodile outside the window! There are signs all over stating that they are not responsible for accidents. It says, “Parents are advised to monitor their children.”

Now, I am in room 4 and my toothbrush is in room 14 and these rooms are ground level, or should I say swamp level? Do you really think I am going to go traipsing around out there in the dark? Can you say Bates Botel? And I am the bait!

Goodnight from Croc-land~

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