Chapter 4 - Too Many Things

There are too many things to write about. Here, a day feels like 2 or 3. Which is the amount of showers I take in a 24 hour period. And I am still dirty. But the humor these kids provide trumps all of the aforementioned, here and in the other chapters. Never a dull moment with these awesome Ghanaian children.

There is this small boy, no more than 2 feet tall, who lives by the trail to the park where the kids play futbol. I passed yesterday and I said HI! and I don’t think he knew what that meant. He ran towards me, got in a sumo wrestler position, got an evil smile on his face, and yelled back, HI! while he stomped his feet. It was hilarious. We kept doing that back and forth about 10 times, and everyone around us - including his mom - was cracking up. It is the hardest I have laughed in a while. We passed today and he did the same thing, it is so funny because he is so small and I think he has no idea that HI! means Hello! I hope I see him tomorrow again.

Diana used to tell me, MADAM STE-FA-NIEEE, YOUR BUTTOCKS IS PLLLLENTY. And she still does. Except this time she said, “TOO PLENTYYYYYY. Side eye. Last time I was here, we had an epic (friendly) battle out in front of the volunteer house that ended with me having smashed banana in my hair, and missing a toe nail. When I walked to the kitchen today, the front door was closed so I had to go around the side. I walked halfway in, and Diana stuck out her fist at me and was holding a live (struggling) bird. It got into the kitchen so she caught it. And then she put it in my backpack. Side eye. But I appreciate that she is still the same, and I laughed.

Today one of the kids asked how old I was, and I asked him how old he thought I was. He said, “ fifty-nine.” I didn’t correct him, but I did give him an open mouth wide eye face. Tonight in the kitchen another kids asked, and I replied the same, and he said, “twenty-two.” I didn’t coronet him either, and I didn’t give him any kind of face. LOL.

At dinner tonight, I got out my camera, and the kids started jumping around. When I told them I wanted to take a video, it was all over. I ended up getting my own private Ghanaian rap show, so that was an awesome way to kick off the night.

After dinner when it was a little bit cooler out, (82 degrees), I challenged the kids outside of the kitchen to keep-away dirt soccer. Morris, the 7 year old, said, “WOW, DO YOU KNOW HOW TO PLAY SOCCER IN US?!” Haha. I remember last time I came, they were amazed that a white girl knew how to kick a ball. I don’t think I won, but I don’t think I lost, either. Romeo is the best, and Clemens is also very good. It ended with me dripping sweat and surrendering before I passed out. So I guess maybe I did lose.

To end the night, a few of my favorite kids came over to my room, and I gave them hot wheels, and we ate suckers and watched Ghanaian television and they went through all of my stuff.

It is both hard and easy to be here. Once you get over being constantly thirsty and constantly sweaty and constantly dirty and constantly pointed out for being white, it is another kind of wonderful you would never realize unless you are in it.

Lastly, this post was brought to you by Sir Richard, my friend and the computer teacher who let me take the router to my room for the weekend so I could get internet on my laptop. Thank you, Sir Richard!