I attended quite the birthday recently. It was the 50th birthday of one of our drivers, Alex. Most birthdays in Ghana seem to come and go without much to-do, so I was surprised to receive an invitation to a birthday party.
I should have known better than to arrive on time, but I did anyways. You would think I would learn such things after a year here. 6:30pm on Saturday. The music blared over the empty courtyard set with plastic chairs and a decorated table full of fake flowers, glasses, and cake. I waited outside the courtyard making small talk with teachers and staff members who also were somewhat early. One particular teacher seemed to be assigned as the MC for the evening. Turns out my name was on the list of mentionable people in attendance. I was a bit caught off guard, because how did they know I was coming anyways? I didn’t think much of it, until the party was in full swing and I heard my name being announced. Of course, the party did not get rolling until after 7:30pm.
As it turns out, Ghanaian birthday parties are much like other ceremonies, in that they come with a full set of chairpersons for the event. After a brief introduction the party, the MC announced the particular individuals who would occupy the high table. Our chair person for the event was the director's wife, and I was among of the assistants. All of this was going on in Twi, so when the announcer switched to English I was surprised to suddenly hear my name. I was introduced and asked to come and sit at the "high table." The table situated at the front of the crowd laden with decorations, treats, and drinks. I felt a bit awkward, especially since the birthday boy (man) himself was not even seated at the table, and nor were any of his family members. The rest of the program proceeded on in Twi (the local language) and I sat and pretended as if I could understand (while stifling yawns threatening to offend). The MC continued on with the evening's program of tributes, dances, songs, etc. At one point I was called away from the table to join in the dancing. Now, despite the fact that I have been here more than a year, I have not yet perfected my Ghanaian dance moves. I think I managed to spare some dignity despite my haphazard rhythm. We were served drinks, and a small plate of snacks (made from scratch by his wife).
Birthday gifts were presented in political fashion, accepted with a handshake and photograph as if they were national presidents signing a treaty. We then "assisted" in cutting the cake, of which we were served larger slices than the rest of the party guests who only received a small bite. Then a birthday quiche was cut, and again the portions were in our favor. Finally, we received our party favor. The goody bag. Literally. Inside the bag was a plastic bowl. To top it all off, inside the bowl was a bag of meat. Cooked chicken pieces to be exact. This is considered quite the gift. I couldn't suppress the smile that threatened to appear as I discovered my party favors. It was the perfect finale to the most unique and exciting birthday party I have ever attended. I am considering instituting the tradition of having a chairman and chair people to assist at my next birthday party. After all, 25 will be a big year too right?
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
ABCD's
For those of you faithful readers, you will remember a time a year ago when I pronounced my dislike for phonics throughout my university studies. I never wanted to teach early literacy, ever. And yet I find myself in the middle of Ghana as the reading facilitator and chief advocate for the school and orphanage.
I went to Accra last week in order to purchase some free books for the rewards for reading program, as well as some readers for our primary 1-3 classes. (Thank you to the generous donors who made that possible!) I am not teaching p.e. at all this year, so I am teaching mostly reading with a little bit of social studies mixed in here and there. Last week we received 48 new students on campus that were child trafficking victims on lake volta. They have been rescued through the Touch a Life Foundation. They will be staying on our campus for the next year. I was already overwhelmed with the amount of children unable to read, or read well. Then came a whole batch of kids who had never set foot in school before, and who don't speak english. I have realized I need to focus on encouraging and equipping teachers with resources and ideas for how to incorporate reading into the classrooms or my work is in vain.
One young boy who is one of the most recent children rescued is named Jacob. Jacob has some hearing difficulties due to an unattended and inflamed ear drum rupture/infection a few years back. I found him outside of class on his first day in first grade refusing to enter. When I realized the situation, I sat down with him and we thumbed through a few literacy books I was holding at the time with ABC's listed inside. I then lead him into class and we sat down to learn how to write his name. He is a sharp kid. He made connections between the alphabet on the page and his name.
Ever since that moment he seeks me out in school and in the evenings to learn letters and numbers. He doesn't have to speak any english for me to realize how intelligent he is. Every alphabet card I showed him today he made real life connections to by pointing or imitating the pictures displayed on the cards. For example, the letter "F" card had a picture of a fox holding a fan. So he picked up a book and began fanning himself. He grabbed his chair and positioned his chair so close to me he blocked the view of the other three boys to the book we were looking at. He leaned intently in to look and listen to everything. I was playing an alphabet song for him to listen to and point to the letters as he went along. It took him a few minutes to realize that the song and the letters were connected. Then he would seriously shout "A!" B, C, and D. because those are the only letters he knows. The rest he doesn't know, so he would just keep shouting those four. I couldn't help but smile at his over enthusiastic shouting. Both at the letters and objects that matched the pictures in the book. I am excited to watch as his english proficiency grows and his first year of school unfolds.
I went to Accra last week in order to purchase some free books for the rewards for reading program, as well as some readers for our primary 1-3 classes. (Thank you to the generous donors who made that possible!) I am not teaching p.e. at all this year, so I am teaching mostly reading with a little bit of social studies mixed in here and there. Last week we received 48 new students on campus that were child trafficking victims on lake volta. They have been rescued through the Touch a Life Foundation. They will be staying on our campus for the next year. I was already overwhelmed with the amount of children unable to read, or read well. Then came a whole batch of kids who had never set foot in school before, and who don't speak english. I have realized I need to focus on encouraging and equipping teachers with resources and ideas for how to incorporate reading into the classrooms or my work is in vain.
One young boy who is one of the most recent children rescued is named Jacob. Jacob has some hearing difficulties due to an unattended and inflamed ear drum rupture/infection a few years back. I found him outside of class on his first day in first grade refusing to enter. When I realized the situation, I sat down with him and we thumbed through a few literacy books I was holding at the time with ABC's listed inside. I then lead him into class and we sat down to learn how to write his name. He is a sharp kid. He made connections between the alphabet on the page and his name.
Ever since that moment he seeks me out in school and in the evenings to learn letters and numbers. He doesn't have to speak any english for me to realize how intelligent he is. Every alphabet card I showed him today he made real life connections to by pointing or imitating the pictures displayed on the cards. For example, the letter "F" card had a picture of a fox holding a fan. So he picked up a book and began fanning himself. He grabbed his chair and positioned his chair so close to me he blocked the view of the other three boys to the book we were looking at. He leaned intently in to look and listen to everything. I was playing an alphabet song for him to listen to and point to the letters as he went along. It took him a few minutes to realize that the song and the letters were connected. Then he would seriously shout "A!" B, C, and D. because those are the only letters he knows. The rest he doesn't know, so he would just keep shouting those four. I couldn't help but smile at his over enthusiastic shouting. Both at the letters and objects that matched the pictures in the book. I am excited to watch as his english proficiency grows and his first year of school unfolds.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
B.Y.O.S.
Today I learned a valuable lesson. When eating lunch at the school, you must b.y.o.s. (Bring Your Own Spoon). Lest you be caught sitting in the back of the library spoonless, chopstickless, knifeless, forkless, staring at a bowl of rice as I was yesterday. I was left with two options: drink my rice out of the bowl or eat with my fingers. The first option has its obvious problems. The second has no immediate difficulties, except how to wash your hands afterwards. There is no sink or running water at the school. The only prospects for hand washing is a bowl of dirty water the children have all been using all day to rinse their hands. I didn't feel like have tomato sauce all over my hands was very professional either.
I finally decided to use bits of bread to eat as much of the rice as possible. Turns out bread is not really an effective rice scooping tool. When the slice of bread was gone, I resorted to more embarrassing means of eating my bowl of rice. I won't be caught spoonless again.
I finally decided to use bits of bread to eat as much of the rice as possible. Turns out bread is not really an effective rice scooping tool. When the slice of bread was gone, I resorted to more embarrassing means of eating my bowl of rice. I won't be caught spoonless again.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Meow
Thanks to Pam Mears I have been dibling it up this week. By that I mean that I have been administering DIBELS reading tests to all the 1st-5th grade classes. Thus far, with the help of some volunteers, I have made it through all the 1st-3rd graders along with about a quarter of the 5th grade students. I am pretty sure I could recite the materials in my sleep. Each test must be administered to a single student at a time as it is not a written test, but oral reading.
One aspect of the 1st grade test is phoneme segmentation. For everyone who is not a teacher, that means taking apart the phonetic (sounds) in a word. So the word hit becomes /h/ /i/ /t/. I asked one particular student to tell me the sounds he heard in cat. He said "meow."
Despite the cute answers, the overall outcome has been quite discouraging. Of the couple hundred students tested so far probably only about 5 are on or above grade level. I expected as much, but without the concrete stats it was a little easier to imagine I was wrong. Reading is not a subject on their syllabus, or in their timetable (subject allocation). Therefore the only direct reading instruction comes from me. I have my work cut out for me this year. Especially since the teacher they hired to take over teaching reading has decided not to come.
One aspect of the 1st grade test is phoneme segmentation. For everyone who is not a teacher, that means taking apart the phonetic (sounds) in a word. So the word hit becomes /h/ /i/ /t/. I asked one particular student to tell me the sounds he heard in cat. He said "meow."
Despite the cute answers, the overall outcome has been quite discouraging. Of the couple hundred students tested so far probably only about 5 are on or above grade level. I expected as much, but without the concrete stats it was a little easier to imagine I was wrong. Reading is not a subject on their syllabus, or in their timetable (subject allocation). Therefore the only direct reading instruction comes from me. I have my work cut out for me this year. Especially since the teacher they hired to take over teaching reading has decided not to come.
Monday, August 23, 2010
What Planet is This?
I flew into OKC with Francis Flair last Thursday to bring him to America for college at Oklahoma Christian University. Seeing the USA through the eyes of Francis has been a whole new experience for me. I had the opportunity to introduce him to things that were completely new and fascinating for him. Such as mailboxes, ice machines, grocery stores, chocolate chip cookies, dead bolts, etc. He mentioned he felt like he was on a different planet all together. Our lifestyles are so completely foreign to him.
I might have almost drowned him trying to teach him a cannon ball in the pool. Good thing my dear friend Amy Hubble came to the rescue. I might have been too busy laughing to notice that he was actually panicking. Bowling went a little better. He actually came out on top during the second round. The movie theater, was impressive. So much so that he fell asleep. (I'll let him off the hook with jet lag on that one)
Francis was amazed at the campus of OC. He has never seen a school compound like it in his lifetime. I had a great time giving him the tour and introducing him to the faculty and staff we met along the way. I was completely overwhelmed with the love and support with which he has been received. Gifts from cash, to cookies, to bicycles and open arms awaited him. God is truly wonderful. I am amazed at the way he has taken care of Francis. I hope the OC community will continue to help him adapt to life in the USA.
I tried to teach Francis the things he could not say in America. Let me give you a few examples of our America lessons:
#1: Don't ask for a rubber.
(a rubber is a plastic bag in Ghana)
#2: Don't say you are going to flash someone.
(flashing means to call and hang up after your phone number has appeared on their phone)
#3: Don't hiss at people. In America, it will still get their attention. But not the kind of attention you are looking for.
#4: Lock public bathroom doors. (He learned that one the hard way)
I might have almost drowned him trying to teach him a cannon ball in the pool. Good thing my dear friend Amy Hubble came to the rescue. I might have been too busy laughing to notice that he was actually panicking. Bowling went a little better. He actually came out on top during the second round. The movie theater, was impressive. So much so that he fell asleep. (I'll let him off the hook with jet lag on that one)
Francis was amazed at the campus of OC. He has never seen a school compound like it in his lifetime. I had a great time giving him the tour and introducing him to the faculty and staff we met along the way. I was completely overwhelmed with the love and support with which he has been received. Gifts from cash, to cookies, to bicycles and open arms awaited him. God is truly wonderful. I am amazed at the way he has taken care of Francis. I hope the OC community will continue to help him adapt to life in the USA.
I tried to teach Francis the things he could not say in America. Let me give you a few examples of our America lessons:
#1: Don't ask for a rubber.
(a rubber is a plastic bag in Ghana)
#2: Don't say you are going to flash someone.
(flashing means to call and hang up after your phone number has appeared on their phone)
#3: Don't hiss at people. In America, it will still get their attention. But not the kind of attention you are looking for.
#4: Lock public bathroom doors. (He learned that one the hard way)
Sunday, August 22, 2010
painting the town red
I am not really the domestic type. Nor do I really get into interior decorating. But for some reason I had the urge to repaint the house. Perhaps it was the mildew yellow color. Or perhaps it was the fact that it looked like chalk on a cement slab (because it is). Whatever the case may be, Alayna* and I made the executive decision to paint the house. Well at least the bedrooms and hallway. Not that it was really our decision to make. Because it is Tommy's house. But, he is in America right now. I still haven't told him. He'll like it. Right?
Painting in Ghana is not like painting at home. You can't just go to Sherwin Williams and whip up a batch of fabulous paint and go home with all the accessories to paint like a pro.
Step1: The Friday before paint day we took the 1 hr tro-tro ride into Kasoa market to find a little paint stand to buy the first oil based paint we could find. Turns out you have to mix turpentine in with it. Then we had to find a way to get the 4 cans back to the VOH along with our other market purchases.
Step 2: Pull a Tom Sawyer and pretend like painting is great fun and find some recruits. Thankfully it worked. Shaibu, Asuo, Dana, Francis, and Sualesu joined in the "fun."
Step 3: Sandpaper the walls. Now, what should have been step 3 is take all the furniture out of the room. Because suddenly everything in my room was CAKED in yellow chalk powder. Including my body.
Step 4: Without the blue painters tape, drop cloths, or anything besides a brush, paint, and a pan dominate the walls. Turns out that beige color does not look like the sample. Thanks a lot paint man.
Step 5: We ran out of paint. So...while I am covered in paint splotches I have to put a skirt back on and make a three hour trip to get more paint from Kasoa. As if they don't stare at me enough when I go into "town" I had to add some paint marks.
Step 6: Spend all afternoon repainting the ceiling white. Turns out those boys have never painted before and let the roller of beige paint hit the ceiling on every stroke. Or so it seemed. Without any ladders, my perches were precarious as I made my way around the room fixing the ceiling lines in the bedrooms.
Step 7: Repaint the bathroom. The beige looked like puke. So it had to be re-painted white. Finished around 1:00am.
Step 8: Sleep out in the hall with all the doors to the rooms closed, because the turpentine was about to give us cancer with the fumes.
Thank goodness I did this all the day before I left on vacation. Let's hope the smell is gone when I come back. Its amazing what a fresh coat of paint can do to a house. And new curtains. Did I mention that we had new ones made? Hope Tommy doesn't mind.
*I met Alayna in 2008 at VOH. She is currently in Ghana implementing a new curriculum project and is stayed with me for a couple of months.
Painting in Ghana is not like painting at home. You can't just go to Sherwin Williams and whip up a batch of fabulous paint and go home with all the accessories to paint like a pro.
Step1: The Friday before paint day we took the 1 hr tro-tro ride into Kasoa market to find a little paint stand to buy the first oil based paint we could find. Turns out you have to mix turpentine in with it. Then we had to find a way to get the 4 cans back to the VOH along with our other market purchases.
Step 2: Pull a Tom Sawyer and pretend like painting is great fun and find some recruits. Thankfully it worked. Shaibu, Asuo, Dana, Francis, and Sualesu joined in the "fun."
Step 3: Sandpaper the walls. Now, what should have been step 3 is take all the furniture out of the room. Because suddenly everything in my room was CAKED in yellow chalk powder. Including my body.
Step 4: Without the blue painters tape, drop cloths, or anything besides a brush, paint, and a pan dominate the walls. Turns out that beige color does not look like the sample. Thanks a lot paint man.
Step 5: We ran out of paint. So...while I am covered in paint splotches I have to put a skirt back on and make a three hour trip to get more paint from Kasoa. As if they don't stare at me enough when I go into "town" I had to add some paint marks.
Step 6: Spend all afternoon repainting the ceiling white. Turns out those boys have never painted before and let the roller of beige paint hit the ceiling on every stroke. Or so it seemed. Without any ladders, my perches were precarious as I made my way around the room fixing the ceiling lines in the bedrooms.
Step 7: Repaint the bathroom. The beige looked like puke. So it had to be re-painted white. Finished around 1:00am.
Step 8: Sleep out in the hall with all the doors to the rooms closed, because the turpentine was about to give us cancer with the fumes.
Thank goodness I did this all the day before I left on vacation. Let's hope the smell is gone when I come back. Its amazing what a fresh coat of paint can do to a house. And new curtains. Did I mention that we had new ones made? Hope Tommy doesn't mind.
*I met Alayna in 2008 at VOH. She is currently in Ghana implementing a new curriculum project and is stayed with me for a couple of months.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Knocking
Jesus looked at him and loved him. Go, sell everything you have and give it to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.
Mark 10:21
I took the weekend off to celebrate the completion of the school year and to just chill for a bit without the persistent shout of "knocking" at the door accompanied by "madam chelsea!" (In Ghana, knocking is a statement you make at the door not something you do to the door) I dearly love these children. I'm sure you all know that. But sometimes one has to take a chance to breathe, reflect, and rest. Since school vacated on Thursday the children are free--and are therefore continually wanting attention for one reason or another. I tried to get some cleaning done a the house on Thursday and failed miserably for the steady stream of interruptions.
I read the gospel of Mark this weekend. I was struck by the constant demand for Jesus' attention. I know there is no comparison between my life and the ministry of Jesus. There are not thousands of people following me from town to town wanting to be healed or expecting to hear me preach. My small glimpse at endless needs makes me more in awe of his patience and compassion that he displayed for the people. In Mark 6 it recounts how Jesus had tried to sail away in a boat to a solitary place. But the crowds beat him there. Instead of responding in exasperation in verse 34 it says that Jesus had compassion on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd.
Often times Jesus tried sneak away at times to pray, or to teach his disciples alone. It rarely worked, the people found him. It amuses me at the kids' ability to find me wherever I am on campus. One little boy came to interrupt girls devotional Thursday night because he wanted batteries. How he knew we were meeting at a different location that night is beyond me. I need to learn that practice of sabbath and solitude. Taking time away so that when I am working I am working from the fullness of God's love within me, and not my own strength.
In chapter 10 of Mark, the author tells us the story of the rich young man who thought he had it all figured out. He thought he had figured out how to follow God's laws, be righteous, be rich, and get to heaven. Until Jesus rained on his parade. As I was reading this morning I just stopped at smiled at verse 21. Jesus looked at him and loved him. Not because he had it figured out. But perhaps because he was so naive to think he did. I think it must be similar to how I reacted when a student asked if we grew the same fruits in Oregon as they do in Ghana. When I showed him on a map that most of our tropical fruits come from Florida. He asked if we had been going to "the down there" to get our fruit. I couldn't help but smile at his precious innocence. I wonder if that's not how Jesus felt. Looking at the rich young man and thinking. "oh my friend, you have a long way to go."
I'm quite certain that he must do the same with me. I hope he looks at me and loves me, despite my naive attempts at serving and loving in Ghana. I'm sure he looks at me and thinks, "oh child, you have much left to learn." But I sure am thankful that he is able to look at us and love us inspite of it all.
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