So, what are you actually doing?
It's not just Americans that ask. Ghanaians are curious, too. I just wish it were a little easier to answer: What are you doing here? To many people I've met, the fact that a yevu (white person) has decided to settle down and make a home in a small village in the Volta region seems to be somewhat inexplicable. So for those of you who are reading this, I'd like to provide at least a little insight into what exactly it is I'm doing here in Ghana.
I've been in Ghana since February, but have only officially been a volunteer for a month. Before that, I was a Peace Corps Trainee. If you'd seen me at that time, you might have been impressed by how much I was accomplishing. From eight to six every day--or sometimes longer--I was busy studying Ewe, learning about health issues and Ghana, and trying to understand a brand new culture. Needless to say, I somewhat overestimated my free time (and access to technology.)
So what's it like now that I'm a volunteer? Well, I'm still studyig Ewe--I am far from proficient, but I hope to be in two years! I'm still learning about new health issues and being surprised by the culture that surrounds me. It just looks a little different than it did during training.
I've only been at this for a month, but from what I can see so far, the most important personality trait you need to be a successful volunteer is self-motivation. Now that I'm a volunteer, how I spend my time is up to me. If I wanted to waste a day in my room watching TV, no one is around to stop me. Instead, every day, the choice that I make, and that thousands of volunteers across the globe make, is to go out and spend the day doing the very best we can.
A lot of what I'm doing may not look like work to the American eye. Peace Corps' philosophy of development encourages us to spend our first three months in our communities working to integrate with locals, on the premise that people might be a bit reluctant to follow the lead of a complete stranger. Seems reasonable to me. So right now, I'm not building anything, or teaching anything, or doing anything at all with which you might imagine Peace Corps volunteers fill their time. What do I do instead?
Well, I spend a lot of time shelling peanuts. I live in a small, rural farming community (pop. ca 200), and one of their main crops is the peanut. Consequently, they, and now I, spend several hours a day pounding each but with a heavy rock to release it from its shell--they were delighted when I told them a former President of the United States was a peanut farmer!
About once a week or so, I head to the regional capital, Ho, to buy food at the market. It isn't as simple as hopping in a car and heading to your local Walmart. I haven't bought a bike yet, so market day means walking 6.5 miles to the man road, often in 100 degree heat. There, I wait for a van called a tro tro to pick me up and take me to the market, where I get to practice bargaining in another language--and at the end of the day, I get to go back the way I came.
I go to farm. As I said, I'm living in a farming community, and most people here spend most of their time working the land. They hoe, till, and prepare the soil by hand, and I'm honestly in awe of how hard they work. When they let me come along to plant a couple of acres of corn, I planted maybe half a row for every two my companions planted. However, I did wind up with some gnarly blisters, so I think it was clear I made an effort.
However, the activity I spend most of my time doing is the one that will probably impress Americans the least. I sit. For hours.
I walk to people's houses, and they pull out a chair, and I sit. I go to the mothers sitting with their children under a tree, and I sit there for a few hours. Eventually, I move to a different home, a different tree. I sit and watch the boys weaving kente; I sit and watch the women tend their fires; I sit and watch the girls play jumping games.
And you know what? It's working.
When I first came to this place, most children under the age of three burst into tears at the sight of me. Maybe it's the glasses, maybe it's the skin--either way, I was a terrifying presence, and was treated accordingly. One month later, they've stopped crying. Instead, they wave. They even call me by my Ghanaian name: Adzo.
So if you've been wondering what I'm up to, this is it. It's not flashy work, but it is important--and it's work I'm proud to do.
I've been in Ghana since February, but have only officially been a volunteer for a month. Before that, I was a Peace Corps Trainee. If you'd seen me at that time, you might have been impressed by how much I was accomplishing. From eight to six every day--or sometimes longer--I was busy studying Ewe, learning about health issues and Ghana, and trying to understand a brand new culture. Needless to say, I somewhat overestimated my free time (and access to technology.)
So what's it like now that I'm a volunteer? Well, I'm still studyig Ewe--I am far from proficient, but I hope to be in two years! I'm still learning about new health issues and being surprised by the culture that surrounds me. It just looks a little different than it did during training.
I've only been at this for a month, but from what I can see so far, the most important personality trait you need to be a successful volunteer is self-motivation. Now that I'm a volunteer, how I spend my time is up to me. If I wanted to waste a day in my room watching TV, no one is around to stop me. Instead, every day, the choice that I make, and that thousands of volunteers across the globe make, is to go out and spend the day doing the very best we can.
A lot of what I'm doing may not look like work to the American eye. Peace Corps' philosophy of development encourages us to spend our first three months in our communities working to integrate with locals, on the premise that people might be a bit reluctant to follow the lead of a complete stranger. Seems reasonable to me. So right now, I'm not building anything, or teaching anything, or doing anything at all with which you might imagine Peace Corps volunteers fill their time. What do I do instead?
Well, I spend a lot of time shelling peanuts. I live in a small, rural farming community (pop. ca 200), and one of their main crops is the peanut. Consequently, they, and now I, spend several hours a day pounding each but with a heavy rock to release it from its shell--they were delighted when I told them a former President of the United States was a peanut farmer!
About once a week or so, I head to the regional capital, Ho, to buy food at the market. It isn't as simple as hopping in a car and heading to your local Walmart. I haven't bought a bike yet, so market day means walking 6.5 miles to the man road, often in 100 degree heat. There, I wait for a van called a tro tro to pick me up and take me to the market, where I get to practice bargaining in another language--and at the end of the day, I get to go back the way I came.
I go to farm. As I said, I'm living in a farming community, and most people here spend most of their time working the land. They hoe, till, and prepare the soil by hand, and I'm honestly in awe of how hard they work. When they let me come along to plant a couple of acres of corn, I planted maybe half a row for every two my companions planted. However, I did wind up with some gnarly blisters, so I think it was clear I made an effort.
However, the activity I spend most of my time doing is the one that will probably impress Americans the least. I sit. For hours.
I walk to people's houses, and they pull out a chair, and I sit. I go to the mothers sitting with their children under a tree, and I sit there for a few hours. Eventually, I move to a different home, a different tree. I sit and watch the boys weaving kente; I sit and watch the women tend their fires; I sit and watch the girls play jumping games.
And you know what? It's working.
When I first came to this place, most children under the age of three burst into tears at the sight of me. Maybe it's the glasses, maybe it's the skin--either way, I was a terrifying presence, and was treated accordingly. One month later, they've stopped crying. Instead, they wave. They even call me by my Ghanaian name: Adzo.
So if you've been wondering what I'm up to, this is it. It's not flashy work, but it is important--and it's work I'm proud to do.
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