At the beginning of April, I felt like everything was crashing down around me. At our All Volunteer conference, I knew that I needed to take control again and stop the train before it really did crash. I approached Peace Corps staff for help.

The Country Director saved me. I spoke with him about what was going on, how I tried to resolve the issue myself and how after months of different strategies nothing was working. I really did feel like I was crumbling in front of him. I thought I was strong enough to overcome these challenges alone. I’ve learned though that it takes an even stronger person to reach out for help when they know they need it. I expressed my fears and frustrations. He listened to me attentively and spoke calmly with me. He assured me that I was not alone. And I wasn’t the first person to go through this. He told me to come down to Accra after the conference, so I could think through things and relax. I felt like I was the number one priority. I felt like Peace Corps staff wanted to do everything in their power to ensure I felt safe and could be an effective volunteer. It was exactly what I needed at that moment.  I needed to be reassured. I needed a mini vacation. And I needed to know Peace Corps staff was there for me. As stoic as our Country Director is, I still felt like I was being cared for. Sometimes you just need that family atmosphere to remind you that people truly do care. You just need to be around people who want what’s best for you. It wasn’t just the Country Director that helped me, but my APCD and the DPT. My APCD has been there for me through thick and thin for the past year and a half. He’s rushed to my side to stick up for me, he’s intervened when necessary, he’s listened to my long rambles about budgets and money, and he’s always given me constructive feedback and helped me find my way. He’s really gone above and beyond to help me through my service. Plus he literally swooped in with my favorite driver and rescued me.

After the conference, I headed to Accra for a weeklong forced stress buster. I spent a lot of time researching stress relief methods, yoga poses, meditation techniques, and other ways to relax. I’ve never felt so relaxed before. It helped that I stayed with my Thanksgiving homestay family as well. (The American embassy workers who hosted me for Thanksgiving.) I spent a week with them a few weeks prior due to a really dumb medical issue. And by dumb I mean, only this kind of weird thing would happen to me. But it didn’t! It affected someone else too in an unrelated circumstance. The couple I stay with are beyond welcoming. I never feel intrusive or awkward staying with them. They have truly opened their home to me and allowed me to heal. The American food, air conditioning, hot showers, pool, and super cute puppy help too. One of them is a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, so she truly knows the hardships involved and how sometimes PCVs just need a hug. She talked me through a lot of the issues I was grabbling with, giving me great advice on how to proceed. She encouraged me to remember why I joined Peace Corps.

A few days later I met with the Country Director, my APCD, and the DPT. They gave me two options: take interrupted service and go back to America or return to site. In my head I imagined Tim Gunn shouting “MAKE IT WORK!” I took a few hours to think through it, but in my mind I had already decided. I wasn’t quitting. I wasn’t going home. I wasn’t giving up. I feel like the CD gave me some tough love, a gentle kick in the ass. Exactly what I needed. I needed someone to give it to me straight. I needed that push. The next day, I walked over to the Peace Corps office and told CD Mike that I wanted to stay. And I 100% made the right decision. Ghana isn’t done with me yet.

Parallel to all of this, I wasn’t feeling well. For months I felt crappy, but I was never able to figure out why. The day I got into Accra, I had a lot of time to think. As I was unpacking, I grabbed my malaria prophylaxis. Suddenly it dawned on me. I looked at a calendar and everything became clear. The three days after I took my medicine, I became ill, but I would get better. Then I would take it again and I was back to sick. The next day I met with the Peace Corps Medical Officer, a quick explanation of my discovery and immediately they changed my meds. All along I thought I was just under the weather, but it turns out I was having a terrible reaction to the medicine for over 5 months! The PCMO has helped me every step of the way along this bumpy road of my service. Ghana has definitely thrown spitballs of salmonella at me, but the PCMO is always there to bandage me back up. When I fell, they were incredibly thorough. When I had my other recent medical issue (seriously, I would be a tropical disease doctor’s wet dream), they had me on the table drawing blood within minutes and off for Xrays immediately after. I loved my doctor in the States, but the PCMOs here have really gone above and beyond to ensure that I am healthy. Would your doctor yell at you for not eating vegetables? Would your doctor text you to check up on you after you got home? There has been at least one occasion where the PCMO has saved my life. Hell, the PCMO even met me at the office on a Sunday evening. The last few times I’ve been down there they’ve even made me de facto PCMO. They joke with unsuspecting PCVs that I’m the new nurse. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with 200 hypochondriac volunteers with weird infections, tropical diseases, and never ending requests for meds. I completely trust and respect the PCMOs we have and I’m incredibly grateful to be in their capable hands. Now if only they could get a thermometer that didn’t take 3 minutes to take your temperature.

Two weeks ago, the unimaginable happened and we lost our fellow PCV and friend. Our grief was overwhelming and it was shared by the staff. The way they handled the memorial and allowing us to mourn was beyond amazing. They kept their composure, but it was clear they were in agony. The speed and efficiency at which they organized homestays for us was truly impressive. The embassy employees opened their arms and their homes to almost 140 of us. At the memorial service, I was moved by CD Mike’s speech about Dani. CD Mike, the very definition of stoic, stood up and shared his grief with us. His tears showed us that it was okay for us to cry, it was okay to mourn, we didn’t have to pretend to be strong. After the memorial, he came around and hugged us all and told us to stay healthy. It reminded me of my own father, hugging me and telling me to stay safe in Africa. It reminded me of that fateful morning when I entered security at the airport. My dad hugging me goodbye. Once I got to country, I found a note he left in my backpack telling me to stay safe.

Every single one of us has a family, a group of friends waiting for us back home – sending us love, worrying about us, scared out of their minds, and amazed at our adventures. I imagine as a parent it is incredibly difficult to allow your child to disappear away to Africa for two years. Before this, I was only concerned about how this would affect me. My parents would learn to accept it in time, but know I realize what stress and concern I’ve put them through. Now they know that life is even more fragile over here and it could have been me. I’m sorry Mom and Dad for putting you through this! But know that I’ve grown as a person, I’ve learned more than possible in the 19 months I’ve been here, and I’ve had an amazing time.

I know though that my parents can take comfort knowing that I’m in good hands. From my APCD always having my back. From Ernest the driver being my personal body guard. From the DPT offering support when I needed it the most. From the PCMO saving me, caring for me, calling all my PC neighbors to help me, and putting up with my seemingly endless strains of salmonella. And our fearless Country Director who gave me the kick I needed, the hug I needed, and the support I needed. I’m so grateful to know these people have my back.

Last week, Peace Corps lost a beautiful soul. Someone everyone loved and aspired to be. She was the Super Volunteer who still puts us all to shame. Her mother came to scoop up her baby and comfort us in our time of grief. Her mother’s strength gave us all hope that we too could be strong enough to carry on her legacy. At the memorial, Dani’s mother gave a speech that still brings me to tears. Dani was also an only child and I can’t imagine the pain her mother is going through and will continue to go through for the rest of her life. I hope that my mother never has to endure such pain.

Inspired by Dani’s mother’s speech, here is my promise to you mom:

I promise to always appreciate the people I love.
I promise to do what’s best for me and not be stubborn.
I promise to hug you every chance I get.
I promise to remember every lecture you gave me growing up.
I promise to listen to my heart.
I promise to be a good “aunt.”
I promise to cherish every good moment and learn from the bad.
I promise to do fulfilling things.
I promise to thank people.
I promise to always keep my safety and security the number one priority.
I promise to teach you how to do the azonto.
I promise to force Martha’s son to listen to the Backstreet Boys!
I promise to support your decisions and give you my advice when you need it.
I promise to appreciate the lessons I’ve learned in Africa.
I promise to take care of myself.
I promise to do things that make me happy.
I promise to laugh.
I promise to cry.
I promise to pick myself back up and keep my head held high.
I promise to respect people.
I promise to no longer hold grudges and learn to forgive.
I promise to smile.
I promise to love the rain and deal with the heat.
I promise to show you how I’ve changed.
I promise to show up to some podunk town in Oklahoma wearing all my crazy Ghanaian clothes.
I promise to never run out of makeup.
I promise to never forget our wonderful moments together.
I promise to love you forever.
I promise to sing our song when I need you.
I promise to call you with all my mundane questions, even when I know the answer.
I promise to listen to all the “need to hears” and not just pine for the “want to hears.”
I promise to stay happy, healthy, and safe.

Anoma antu a Ɔbua da.
If a bird does not fly, it starves.
Meaning nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I decided to come up with some of my own proverbs based on my life as a Peace Corps Volunteer in West Africa. Can you guess the meaning of some of them?

You find patience and grace in a tro, they are sitting right beside you.

A cockroach in the latrine is a sign of a healthy diet.

If you throw the paper down the hole, you will never see it again. If you throw the paper in a bucket, you will have to see it many times. If you use your hand, you only see it once.

A run in the rain beats running in place.

Don’t ignore the roaring lion, he can run faster than you.

It only takes one drop in a bucket to bathe.

If you stand in the bucket, your water will become dirty.

A burnt finger is a sign of a good meal.

Fufu is in the eye of the pounder.

You can’t starve if you have good neighbors.

A fat cow produces better milk.

If you travel all day down a bush path you can look at yourself and think either “I’m dirty” or “I’m tan!”

A stich in time saves nine, but nine tailors can’t stich in time.

The cock that crows the loudest tastes the best.

The grass is always greener during the rainy season.

The bite of a mosquito only itches if you scratch it.

A good hoe should be between your legs.

Don’t put all your eggs in one Bolga basket, they won’t survive the taxi ride.

One yard of fabric can cover your head, but two yards of fabric can cover your ass.

I finally arrived back at site yesterday afternoon, it has been quite an interesting month and a half. Here’s what went down:

Meeting with business man interested in expanding his juice business to create cashew fruit juice concentrate.
Frantic call from PCMO, went to Accra for medical. Still to this day don’t know exactly what it is, but I’m about 95% sure of what it is. And I’m 50% sure that juju was involved. Since we are throwing stats around.
One day back at site to pack.
Agriculture Reconnect Training – I talked about business trainings and helped out for the training.
Easter
Helping Scott with Our Talking Hands (see the previous post)
One day with Cara helping her find ways of diversifying and bringing in more profit to her project. It will need a lot more attention though, so I’m hoping to go back and help her convince her community to invest in some small stuff.
Warden training! Hell yeah, go safety training! I was pleased that I remembered a lot of stuff from training, but I guess security is in my blood. Thanks Dad!
All Vol. The All Volunteer Conference. It was pretty fun, not as fun as I remember from last year. But I also didn’t drink very much, so that makes a difference in my perspective I think. Prom was fun once the music started going. I unfortunately had a very bad reaction to mefloquine during All Vol, so I didn’t have as much fun as I could have. Also, during All Vol I came to a very difficult and hard realization that led me to give up something I truly treasured. Sometimes though, you have to accept defeat, bow out gracefully, and do what’s best for yourself. Another hard lesson that I’m glad I learned, but I’m very sad that it had to happen. (Imagine saving up money for your dream vacation for over a year, you finally get to go on vacation and something horrible back home happens, so you have to leave early before you get to really enjoy any of it.)
After All Vol, I headed to Accra. I had a meeting with the Country Director Monday. I spent the week staying with “my expats.” They work for USAID and hosted me for Thanksgiving and while I was sick in Accra a few weeks before. They were incredibly gracious, accommodating, and supportive during my week of internal hell. They fed me delicious food (homemade lasagna including the noodles!, enchiladas, cheeseburgers, spaghetti, Swedish meatballs, and fried chicken). They even let me go to the beach with them on Saturday. One of them is an RPCV, so it is like having a mentor. She really helped me to deal with my internal struggle and discover ways of changing my situation. It was exactly what I needed to help me get back to my normal self (screw you mefloquine!). I met with the PCMO and they switched me off mefloquine, so I’m slowly starting to feel like I’m emerging from a fog. It’s wonderful.

Monday, I met with the Country Director, Director of Programming and Training, and my APCD. They gave me two options – return to site and “make it work!” (my words, not theirs) or take interrupted service. During the week before, I spent a very long time thinking about why I joined Peace Corps. Have I accomplished my goals? Do I feel like I made a difference? Do I want to go home? Am I strong enough to overcome this hurdle?

This is why I want to be a PCV and why I decided to continue my service:

I want to help others. I want to give back. I want to share my business knowledge and skills with HCNs who otherwise wouldn’t have access to these ideas. I want to put my skills to good use, teaching people how to improve their lives by adopting simple principles, such as recordkeeping, accounting, knowledge of the value chain, and marketing.

I want to be immersed in another culture.

I want to learn about myself, grow, and benefit from others’ experiences.

I want to prove to myself that I am capable of living and working in an environment that is difficult, stressful, dirty, and sometimes dangerous. I want to prove to myself that I have the endurance to survive two years in a developing country. I want to prove to myself that I am strong enough to handle any circumstance that comes my way.

Last Thursday, I attended the Swearing-In Ceremony for 20 new Health PCVs. I’m incredibly glad that I was able to attend, because the speeches from the Ambassador and the Country Director reminded me of why I was here. I am here because I want to serve my country, by serving others.

I didn’t join Peace Corps to quit with only 8 months left. I didn’t join Peace Corps to take the easy way out. I didn’t join Peace Corps to mope in the corner because of this that and the other thing.

I am a Peace Corps Volunteer because I want to be here.

I’ve dealt with issues I never imagined I would face. I’m done with letting other people dictate who I am as a Volunteer. The only person who can judge my service is myself. If I feel that I have accomplished my goals, helped my community, and made a positive impact than I have succeeded. I will complete my service. I will not let the obstacles in front of me impact my last 8 months.

When I returned home, I grabbed some kenkey, but the lady forgot to give me mako (salsa). Bummer. I haven’t had anything to eat outside of breakfast. I get home and I can’t open my lock, it has rusted shut. A few bangs and I get it to open. My kitchen/porch is a mess. Clearly, it rained heavily while I was gone. My flax seeds have been nibbled on and there are tiny little flax seeds everywhere. I open my cabinet and 100 teabags from South Africa have been devoured by that bastard mouse. My ranch dressing packets and chickpeas were also not spared. I opened another cabinet and saw that fat little mouse just eating whatever his heart desired. On top of my bookshelf was a venerable mouse playground. He had carried my chickpeas all the way up the bookshelf and ate them under my mask. My wardrobe also made a nice little dining room for the guy right on top of my dresses.

I open my fridge and dear god I’ve never smelt anything so putrid. It was crawling with flies and bugs and all sorts of gross things. I quickly closed that door. I’ll deal with that later. I left it open when I left, the wind must have slammed it shut. There’s a cut in my screen, but at a weird place so maybe it is just recent storms. Nothing is missing. Inside my house is just dirt, but not as much as I was expecting. I found a worm on my bed. I sat down and wanted to cry. I forgot how small my house is. I felt so lonely now. It is always like that when you return from travelling though. And I couldn’t even eat because I had no mako for my kenkey. BAH HUMBUG.

So I got some kids to come over and fetch some water. Then I offered them 5cd to scrub my fridge, a little pricey but I wasn’t about to touch that thing. Even they thought it was gross, so that was some sort of awesome validation. At least it had been unplugged. They took it upon themselves to clean the rest of my porch, take out my trash, wash the floor, and overall make everything look 1000x better. It was fantastic. I decided to put some music on and I played Antenna by Fuse ODG. (Go look up the videos on youtube…NOW, but then come back and finish reading.) Like every azonto song in Ghana, a few beats and all the kids are dancing.

So a dance party started on my porch and the kids taught me some new azonto moves. Akua who helped clean the fridge is a great dancer and teacher. I think I found a new way to exercise. We danced for about 10 minutes, then I had a brilliant idea.

I ran back to my room and searched around for an American song that had a dance associated with it. So what did I decide on?

Gangnam Style.

Seriously, how much more American can you get that listening to a Korean song that went viral on YouTube with the most ludicrous dance? That’s what America is to me!

I taught them the dance and laughed so hard. They were so good! I wish I would have filmed it. I’ll have to do it again, so I can get pictures. Imagine a really tall skinny white girl teaching a bunch of 5-10 year old Ghanaian kids how to do Gangnam Style on a tiny little porch. I’m sure we looked awesome.

We danced for a couple hours until the rains came. It was hands down the best welcome home I could have asked for. Despite the fridge, the mouse, my lock, and the daunting task of cleaning, I felt great about coming home. It completely represented my past few months. One thing stacking on top of another, nothing seems to be working out, frustration, and disappointment, but then suddenly something happens and reminds me why I am here.

I’m here for impromptu dance parties. And I’m here to find creative ways of making that mouse pay for his indiscretion in my absence.

Here’s to the last 8 months!

I feel like a major part of my service has been focused on goal two and three of the Peace Corps mission – helping Americans better understand Ghanaians and vice versa (goal two is the vice versa). And I think I’ve accomplished this through fashion. Bringing Western styles and influences to my tailors, helping them to create new designs that challenge their defined skill sets. I know that my tailor used to share my designs with her fellow tailors, teaching them new styles to expand their offerings. I would have dialogues with my sisters and tailor about how Western designs are influenced, why we are so daring to reveal our thighs and our shoulders.

I hope that my pictures and blog posts over the past year and a half of helped to tell the story of Ghana’s fashion culture and helping my fellow Americans to better understand Ghanaian culture. For instance, Ghanaians rarely show their thighs and tend to cover most of their shoulders. Why? Ghanaian culture is conservative and some Muslim principles have an influence on daily life. During my service I’ve also talked about kente cloth, batik, and adinkra symbols. I want to research the influence of the Dutch on wax print here as well.

Last week I had the pleasure of being a visiting artist/business consultant for another Peace Corps Volunteer’s project – Our Talking Hands. It was a great way for me to marry all the Peace Corps goals and it was incredibly fulfilling.

Our Talking Hands is unique in that it works with deaf students to create beautiful accessories, home items, and designs. The project is based in the Volta region which, like the Ashanti region, is known for its beautiful kente cloth. The Ewe tribe has different influences than the Akan, so the kente is slightly different. The PCV working with this project, Scott, has been working with his students to teach new ways to weave kente that combines the traditional skills and designs with influences from the Northern regions (and their smock fabrics) and Western aesthetics.

Working with the students was incredible, they are truly talented. I even picked up some sign language! And I can’t express to you how wonderful it was to be in a place that was so quiet.

When I first got there, I met the students and learned about each of their unique talents. I explored the workshop and learned about the available resources. Then working with Scott and his Ghanaian counterpart Promise, we came up with some ideas for new designs.

There are a few things that are hard to find here in Ghana or they are less than ideal quality wise. I’ve become fairly good at analyzing demand and supply for accessories and clothing in Ghana. I keep a notebook with drawings of ideas for products, including magazine cutouts. We picked up a few of my ideas and decided to make prototypes during the week.

It was wonderful picking out fabrics, tweaking the structural details, and working with the students. You think you know what a language barrier is. Then you remove language all together and you see just how important communication is. I didn’t know sign language. They couldn’t heard me. I didn’t know Ewe either. But the amazing thing was discovering how to communicate using no language at all and realizing that I could understand what they wanted to say without knowing what they were signing. Body language is universal and I used it as my Rosetta Stone.

During the course of the week, I not only helped with designing products, but with the business side as well. Including, cost analysis, inventory controls, break even analysis, and figuring out ways to minimize expenses while increasing profits. Helping Scott and Promise with these business principles was fulfilling in a way that I never thought possible. Do you know how happy I am when I stay up all night doing spreadsheets and tweaking the numbers? Figuring out how to convince Ghanaians about not only the importance, but the necessity of keeping books is another one of my favorite activities. Throughout the course of the week, we analyzed how to manage supply and demand, how to adjust prices, and anticipate seasonal swings. This is my bread and butter. This is my element, combining business accounting principles with production practices and marketing principles to turn a good business into a great one. I also helped Scott to streamline his ordering process, making his life much easier.

On Saturday, we arranged a photo shoot to help Scott advertise his products better. Working with the photographer – a fellow PCV, I helped to pick out the products, do storyboarding, and decide on a general feel for the campaign. It reminded me of being back at the ad agency! Working with the client to streamline and refine their campaign, working with creative to come up with the best ideas for making the products stand out, supervising the actual shoot, and then helping with post production editing. It was like stepping back into my favorite shoes.

This is Jennifer a junior high student who helped me to create braided headbands. I’m adjusting her styling.

One of the most popular products, the piecey piecey backpack.

Setting up the next shot.

The batik queen size duvet cover, which doubles as a picnic blanket.

Two things I designed and helped create – the braided batik headband and fabric adinkra earrings.

The clutch in three fabulous sizes, tiny, just right, and gigantic.

The yoga bag.

The batik messenger bag.

And the bun in the oven apron with oven mitts and oven squares.

A few days later, at our All Volunteer Conference I helped Scott with inventory tracking and sales analysis. So for two weeks I was in complete heaven, doing everything I love with a group that is simply fantastic. Working with each of the students was amazing, they are talented, motivated, driven, and an inspiration. A lot of them went from being kicked out of their schools and communities, to being welcomed with open arms into a caring environment, which is teaching them useful skills.

Check out Our Talking Hands website and Etsy page to learn more and order some of the products! You can special order items too.

http://ourtalkinghands.com/

http://www.etsy.com/shop/OurTalkingHands

What even is identity? My handy dictionary application says there are two main definitions that are relevant:
1, The distinct personality of an individual regarded as a persisting entity
2. The individual characteristics by which a thing or person is recognized or known

Throughout the past year and a half, definition one has become clearer. I’ve been able to tap into myself and finally see who I think I really am. Because of some recent circumstances though I’ve started to question even that. And that’s because of definition number two – by which a person is known.

Does that mean my identity is dependent on what other people think about me? At what point does it stop being my identity and become someone else’s perception.

Does the Peace Corps Ghana community define who I am as a person? Do they establish my identity? And why does it matter to me either way? Why do I let other people define who I am as a person? Why is it so difficult to separate perception from reality when it comes to identity?

Do I really know who I am? The answer to that question used to be yes. Now, I just don’t know. Is who I think I am enough for other people? Or do other people have to put in their two cents to establish who I really am?

Mosquitos are more than just a nuisance here in Sub-Saharan Africa. These tiny little beasts can carry a parasite that once released into your bloodstream will sit around and wait patiently. Suddenly the parasite breathes to life and a fire slowly starts to build inside your body. After a few hours you start to feel better, but then once again the fire starts to build. Fever, chills, body aches, vomiting, headache, and the strong desire to kill every mosquito on the planet are some of the symptoms of malaria.

Malaria’s symptoms are actually very similar to the flu, the cyclical fever is fairly common with malaria though. Just like mosquitos, the flu is something most Americans shrug off as a common illness during winter. During the 2011-2012 flu season in America 34 children died from the flu.

In 2010, 216 million clinical cases of malaria were recorded worldwide. 655,000 cases were fatal; 86 percent of those were children. That’s 563,300 children who died from malaria in 2010.

Let’s read that again.

563,300 kids died from malaria in 2010.

That’s about the same as the population of Wyoming. Imagine the entire state of Wyoming obliterated in one year because of those pesky mosquitos we love to swat away.

Alright, so I’m sure you’re wondering how so many people contract malaria every year. Clearly, there are a lot of factors, but let’s start at the beginning.

Here in Ghana we have two main seasons – the rainy season and the dry season. Mosquitos lay their evil little eggs in nice clean patches of water. Any standing water will do, just as long as it is clean and oil free. During the rainy season, there are plenty of little puddles of standing water, so mosquitos can basically just buzz around, fly down anywhere wet, and release their evil spawn into the world. I’m pretty sure vampire legends were actually inspired by mosquitos because once the sun starts to set, these little buggers decide it is feeding time! The females are the mean ones and they carry the parasite. And mosquitos love dark places, how are they not real vampires?!

So you get bit and the parasite starts floating around in your body looking for something yummy to snack on. Once the parasite takes hold it starts a lovely little life cycle every 1-3 days. So now you feel like crap and you don’t know what to do.

If you have the anti-malaria drugs you can start taking a course of tablets after being diagnosed. But these meds aren’t cheap.

And in case you’ve forgotten, Sub-Saharan Africa is poor. A lot of people can’t afford the malaria medication. And like most manageable diseases, they are only manageable with medication. If you don’t start taking the medication quickly, complications start to arise. Pregnant women and children are the most susceptible to malaria because of increased complications with the baby and decreased immunity respectively.

Malaria is nasty, but the complications are the real killers.

So, let’s recap. Mosquitos are evil vampires hell bent on destroying life in Sub-Saharan Africa.

So why do so many people get infected when everyone knows about malaria? Simple. Prevention isn’t a priority or people simply don’t know how to prevent the disease.

I’ve never met a single Ghanaian who wears mosquito repellant. Only a few of my Ghanaian friends sleep under a mosquito net. No one takes prophylaxis, it’s too expensive and frankly dangerous to take for a lifetime. No one really does anything about standing water.

Prevention education just isn’t widespread. And then you have to ensure adoption of the prevention practices too. That’s where Peace Corps Volunteers come in. Volunteers educate their villages about proper prevention techniques. Volunteers also raise awareness of the issue and try to get Ghanaians to start thinking critically about malaria. The Government of Ghana and other NGOs are also working to improve awareness.

Malaria’s impact is far-reaching. It is truly a barrier to development in Sub-Saharan Africa. Remember the swine flu in America? Remember how many people missed work, had to go to the doctor’s office, spent their money on medication, and how many people just stayed home to avoid being around sick people? The same principles apply here. People are spending their little money on medicine. They aren’t able to work. They are caring for their sick children. They aren’t able to go to farm. They are filling the clinics to capacity.

Malaria is preventable. It is treatable. But malaria isn’t going away anytime soon. The best thing we can do is educate and raise awareness. Prevention is key.

I want to reflect back on lessons learned, strengths and weaknesses uncovered, and how I’ve changed since becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer.

1. Never trust a fart. The wisest words an older PCV ever uttered to me. This knowledge has been essential, especially given my plethora of stomach problems.

2. I’m mellower, but more confrontational. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it is true. I used to be slightly high strung, impatient, and a bit of a drama queen. I would get antsy if I had to wait more than 5 minutes. I would deal with it, but I was still in a heightened state of huffy sighs. Everything here takes time. I never wear a watch because it is rather useless. I still have moments where I actually do need to be somewhere on time and I can feel the anxiousness creep back, but I have to just shrug it off and realize, I’ll arrive when I arrive. I’ve adopted that attitude – it’ll happen when it happens. There are things you can control and things you cannot, it is useless to stress over the things you cannot control. But why am I more confrontational? That’s a direct result of two things – taxi drivers and my situation at my old site. Most people try to cheat you here, they see white skin and you can watch the $$$$ pop into their eyes. Market ladies are easy enough to haggle with, because once you speak in the local language they realize there ain’t no cheating her. Taxi drivers are a rare breed though. My fellow PCVs and I have often remarked that there must be a taxi driver secret school here in Ghana. A school that teaches drivers how to scream on top of their lungs, repeat a city’s name faster than imaginable, and how to cheat anyone and everyone out of their money. I’ve been cheated so many times that anytime a driver tries to cheat me, I go postal on them. Just a bit. Taxi drivers are my breaking point, they have no shame in what they are doing – so I like to make sure that shame resurfaces. It is hard not to let it get to you, you know they are just looking for more money – but I’m broke.

In fact, PCVs have recently diagnosed ourselves with “Obroni Travel Aggression.” This illness presents itself immediately upon entering a taxi station. Travel aggression is often manifested by rapid onset of bitchiness, short temper, and a low grade fever which induces blood boil. It is also common for patients to experience elevated heart rate, dilated pupils, and a low growling noise coming from the throat. By the time the traveller makes it to their final destination, the recommended course of action is a nap and possibly alcohol.

Back to the topic at hand, a part of that confrontational attitude has carried over though. I think it has made me play devil’s advocate more though and I think that is important. I’m no longer afraid of bringing up the messy alternatives because I might upset someone’s “perfect” idea. I think in order to have a great idea, plan, or direction you need to consider all facets.

3. Never go to the market “just to look” at fabric. Yeah, I’m addicted. It’s true. I love the feeling of getting a new dress or shirt back from the tailor. But going to the market just because the fabric is pretty often results in rapid loss of money.

4. Teamwork has been one of my biggest struggles so far, but for reasons I never would have expected. We work with such a variety of people and personalities here – both American and Ghanaian. With Ghanaians, you get the big man syndrome, with Americans you get the “holier-than-thou” syndrome. But there is one thing in particular I’ve noticed about working with my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, everyone thinks they know it best. Volunteers all have an ego – we develop it when we join. We are sacrificing two years of our life to change the world, one person at a time, therefore we are awesome and our job is better than yours. We get catty when we think another PCV is doing better than we are. We compare ourselves to each other, despite the fact that we all have such different experiences that is pointless to try to compare. This ego gets in the way though.

When you join Peace Corps you imagine it will be a certain way. Most of the time people imagine Peace Corps as sitting alone in a mud hut in the middle of nowhere chatting with locals, eating the local food with a family, and teaching something under a tree in town. The key word in that sentence being “alone.” Most people imagine PC as a solitary assignment with little contact with other PCVs, friends and family. Maybe it is in some countries, but Ghana is small and we have a lot of Volunteers. My closest Volunteer is now a 5-10 minute drive away based on the taxi driver. If I took a car north, northeast, south, west, or east I’d be at another PCV’s site within 20 minutes.

The structure within the Agriculture sector here is focused on working together as PCVs on a set of projects – cashews, shea, bees, maize, and chickens. Working together is truly better than sitting alone trying to change the world. Here is where the ego comes back. Teamwork is essential in any job and it is becoming increasingly important in Peace Corps Ghana. In college, I had group projects in every single class I took. In all of my jobs prior to Peace Corps, I had to work closely with other people (wait, what? you do that in an office environment?! MIND BLOWN.). I’m used to working with people, but most of the time it is people from similar work backgrounds. There is only one other Volunteer in Ghana that has a similar work background to me – and she lives in the capital and I’ve seen her maybe twice. Here though, I work with people from all over the spectrum, people whose majors range from Philosophy to Environmental Science. This combined with the Peace Corps ego has made teamwork one of my biggest challenges and learning moments.

When everyone thinks they know best, wants to try and be the superstar Volunteer, is judgmental of everyone else’s work as a Volunteer, and has different priorities – it makes for a very interesting meeting or group dynamic. It has been challenging trying to balance the notion that Volunteers are largely self-serving with the idea that we are here for others. But Volunteers have to work together, we have goals larger than ourselves that we all find important. I know that I haven’t been the perfect team player and I have certainly been all of the above Volunteer ego categories. If Peace Corps teaches you anything though, it is how to deal with people.

I’m still struggling, learning, and actively working on improving my teamwork skills – but I have learned something invaluable. You won’t always be surrounded by people with similar backgrounds. In work and life, you have to work with people from all over the spectrum. In order to be effective as a team, you need to accept each other’s weaknesses, play off each other’s strengths, compromise, be willing to accept defeat, and share responsibilities. You have to accept that people might not like you and may not like working with you. Do your best, know that you are doing the right thing and it won’t matter. You can’t please everyone, but you can do your part to be inclusive, supportive, and a team player.

5. I now know what it is like to be a minority. I told my friend the other day – some days, I feel like I’m a lesbian Pacific-Islander living in a small town in Alabama. Sounds strange, I know. (I’m not by the way, clearly.) Being white in Africa makes you stand out, period. But even within Peace Corps, I feel like a minority. Here in Ghana, we have about 9 people who are business focused out of about 190 PCVs. And even being from Oklahoma puts me into a minority (although we are representing in Ghana). Oklahoma has only 47 Volunteers worldwide serving, 4 of which are here in Ghana. It’s hard to have your voice heard when it seems so small. But lucky for me, business tends to run the world so my voice isn’t drowned out so easily.

Part of being in a Peace Corps minority has made me also realize that I’m not a typical Volunteer. I’m not doing what I expected to be doing. I’m not alone in the mud hut. My work as a Volunteer is different from just about everyone else here in Ghana. I’m not really working in my village – I travel to other Volunteers’ sites to teach business basics in their communities. Just last week, I was in another PCV’s site teaching recordkeeping, how to track expenses, how to calculate profit, and how the global cashew market impacts their bottom line. I’m the Chairman of the Cashew Initiative, so I work on facilitating trainings, working with Peace Corps Staff, coordinating with partners. And with that I’ve also started basically doing business consulting. Entrepreneurs and businesses have started approaching me asking me how they can get involved with our communities, how they can bring new business opportunities to Peace Corps villages. And since the beginning of my service I’ve been coordinating pilot programs with SAP.

Sometimes I think: “This isn’t Peace Corps!” But my expectations of Peace Corps were romantic. I expected Peace Corps to be the 1960s version – cut off from the world. I’m something different and that’s perfectly fine. My responsibility is still to the farmers, the market ladies, and the communities in which they live. If my role is to connect them with resources and partners they otherwise would never have encountered, that’s perfectly fine. After all, Peace Corps is about finding ways to help locals help themselves, and sometimes that means connecting them with the people who can help them. Grassroots development of the value chain, or something like that.  

There you have it, six ways I’ve changed, six lessons learned, and six reasons I’m happy to be a Peace Corps Volunteer.

We moved on and our guide Wes told us about the different birds we saw flying by. He pointed out things I never would have even noticed, I really appreciated that. It made the experience all the more enriching. Sitting at the front of the car was our tracker – a highly trained local with eagle eyes and a penchant for animal poop and tracks. He said something in Afrikaans to our guide and he deftly drove us over to a tree, hiding behind the tree was a giraffe, extremely close and skeptical of our intentions. We drove a few feet further and out of nowhere another giraffe emerged from the thick trees. Then another one. And another one.

Giraffes like to go solo, so seeing a large group of them isn’t common. In the end it was about 12 giraffes travelling together. In the waning light, we watched as sun set over this beautiful group of animals. From the trees, we noticed a smaller giraffe lumber out with his mom and dad. We watched as a group of wry warthogs taunted the baby giraffe, scaring him so much that he leaped into the air. Our guide remarked that he had never seen a giraffe jump. Soon afterward a herd of zebras also came out of the trees accompanied by even more giraffes. A little spook from the warthogs and the giraffes and zebras went running together. All of this happened surrounding our car. I’ll never go to a zoo again.

As the light faded we went in search of the nocturnal creatures. As we stopped to watch some funny impala, the guide and I heard a faint noise in the distance. The roar of a lion. We travelled along for a short time before the tracker pointed out something in the dirt below us. The guide and the tracker started chatting quickly in Afrikaans and pointing to the ground. We followed the prints in the dirt for sometime. Finally the guide told us they were lion tracks, fresh ones. It was dark now and we were guided by the spotlight on the car. As we turned a corner, the tracker scanned the spotlight over the horizon and right there was our lion. A lovely lioness lounging on a rock. I couldn’t get a good picture of her because of the bad lighting, but she was beautiful. At one point she stood as if to pounce on something but then decided against it and laid back down.

We watched her for about 10 minutes before moving on. We rounded another corner and were greeted by a black rhino trying to cool off. The rhino had rolled in some nasty mud earlier in the day and let it dry against his thick skin. He found a low stump of a tree and we watched as he scratched the mud off. Off his back, sides, butt, and ummm giant rhino oysters.

We slowly moved on and heard big footsteps. As we turn to our right, we found the source of the early evening’s noise. A male lion. The male lion was on a private reserve, fenced off from main Kruger. The male was giant and the ladies in Kruger knew it. The lady lions could tell based on his roar that he had some mighty fine genes that they wanted to get their paws on. Every night the male lion would pace the fence hoping the ladies would somehow sneak in. It was incredibly sweet and sad at the same time. The male lion laid down for us, he looked so defeated and sad. Our guide wanted to perk up the lion, so he reved the engine – mimicking a roar. The male lion finally got upset enough that he stood up, stared at us, and bellowed out a earthshattering roar. Being that close to a male lion’s roar is phenomenal. You can feel it in your entire body. It reverberates through your bones. Soon after our friendly scratching rhino made a second appearance and we watched as the male lion got up and walked along the fence side by side with the rhino.

Two fierce animals, going about their business deep into the night in South Africa.

I made the fateful decision to go outside early in the morning. The small girl next door was already outside and starting the wash. She asked me for some washing powder and I gave her the bag. I stood at my gate and waited for her to return it. She didn’t immediately give it back. So I stood and waited patiently for a few minutes. The sun had not yet risen, but you could see it straining to break out of the horizon.

I went back inside, threw on some real clothes, and put on my Chacos. I’ve been meaning to go exploring for a while, this morning is the perfect time. The cool weather, the painted sky, and the light breeze were calling me to get out of my house.

So I left my house and ventured to an area I’ve never been. I discovered my neighbors’ cocoa trees, some lovely compounds, and a road just south of my house. I followed the road and discovered the hill which I thought was much farther than it really is. I climbed the steep cliff and stood on the edge of Techiman. I’ve seen these cliffs before, but from the other side. I always wondered how beautiful it would be from atop the cliff.

I stopped at the precipice, climbed on a small rock, and looked out over the Brong-Ahafo. I could see farms, houses, cashew trees, mango trees, and some of the beautiful rock formations nearby. In the distance I could see a small bushfire still smoking. Even farther and you could see Nkoranza on the horizon. But, the real sight was the morning sun. Through the veiled cloud cover the sun peaked through. Slowly, the sun rose into the sky as a giant ball of fire. The sun looks so much bigger here. I never will quite understand that, how can the sun appear so giant here in Africa, but so small in America? Maybe it is because the sun shined on Africa first. Maybe it is because the sun is life here. Maybe it is because the sun dictates everything here. Nothing competes with the sun. At night, it is darker here than you could imagine. If you venture out to an area with absolutely no power and the moon is not out, you will be surprised by how engulfing the darkness is. You can barely see your hand in front of your face. That kind of dark is suffocating. But here, we have the stars, untainted by city lights. Sometimes they seem so close, you try to reach out and touch them.

Watching the sunrise over Ghana never gets old. There is something truly magical about the dawn in Africa.