So it has been forever and a day since I last posted. At that point in my life, I was still in Ghana. I hadn’t been to Fredericton yet, one of the most beautiful cities I’ve been to yet with over 80 km in walking trails which I tried to use daily; I hadn’t met my amazing host family (my mother being from the Philippians; my host dad Canadian) who opened up their home to me and my counterpart, right in the middle of town in a very convenient location; I hadn’t worked with the amazing St Mary’s Youth Leadership Enrichment (S.M.Y.L.E) where we built a curricular for the aboriginal youth group focusing on  R.E.S.P.E.C.T (an acronym for Responsibility, Empathy, Self-sufficiency, Productivity, Empowerment, Co-operation, and Tactfulness/Teachings) as well as supervised ice-skating and swimming for the children; I hadn’t contracted malaria, leaving me with a five day stint in hospital with blood being drawn every 12 hours (my favourite!!); I hadn’t experience the worst moments of the program with bickering and fighting, and neither had I experienced some of the best moments of my life with snowball fights, group gatherings and conversations next to a dying fire under a brilliantly bright moon. All this was Fredericton, and much, much more.

Looking back, I realize now what an impact Ghana had on me. Whilst there, I journal religiously – I wrote daily, sometime multiple times in a day, often up to 10 pages. I returned to Canada, and felt it more difficult to do so. I went through an entire book that side – my new journal has a grand total of two pages. I know I should have been recording my thoughts and feelings (at least in the blog) but I felt it hard to do so. Sometimes I thought it unnecessary, sometimes like I just couldn’t, but all the time it was easier to just not – not think about it, not do it, just not have to deal with it.

The funniest thing is that now that the program is over and I have left those people who will forever hold a very big part of my heart, that seems like it was the easy time. As anyone who knows me knows, I cry easily and often. I try not to cry about my own issues, but show me a good movie (or maybe even a not so good one) and I’m weeping, a good book and I’m bawling, the sniffles start when I listen to a good song (believe it or not I’ve cried to a Spice Girls song before!) and don’t even get me started on those good old television commercials! I’m an emotional wreck – but that is nothing compared to December 17^th when I left those wonderful 19 people. To be fair, I did warn everyone I would be crying hysterically, although I don’t think people took me seriously. But it happened. A lot. And often.

But then I returned home to South Africa. I saw friends and family, my baby niece and nephew for the first time. I travelled to Mozambique in a squished car for 9 hours in 100 degree weather; I literally saw paradise in its clear blue oceans and white sand beaches where I swam and tanned, climbed a sand dune and went snorkelling; I counted down the New Year with an amazing family who have embraced us as their own, and climbed Noah’s Ark at 8 am on January 1^st. I danced and sang, laughed and ate, relaxed and swam in one of the most beautiful countries on earth.

On January 8^th I travelled to the Centenary celebrations of the ANC where we sat with the masses in a stadium in Bloemfontein. It was boiling hot, with very little relief from the sun, however the energy in the place was electric, and what with all the singing, black, gold and green it was definitely a day to remember.

I went to Swaziland for a very short visit, back to WK to say hi to some teachers who I really appreciated in all the support they provided me with when I left.

I travelled to Botswana for the first time in a visit that was way too short but long overdue and great none the less. I saw friends who I haven’t seen in a long time, who may have been far from sight, but definitely not far from mind.

I got a second home in different city, with friends who graciously let me stay with them for long periods of time without expecting anything, whilst I ate their food and relied on them for transportation. 

I was having a great time, a fabulous time – or so I thought.

And then it hit me. Something had changed once my sister and mother left in January, leaving me alone with my dad who was staying in a different city. This is the part of the story where if there are any INFJs reading this (and I’m sure there is at least one), I’m sure you can relate. I didn’t realize it at first – I thought I was just bored. In case you don’t know, I love to cook. I love reading recipies, executing them and tweaking them to my liking. It was one afternoon, after having finished the first three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy and in the middle of the second season of Desperate Housewives, after having made homemade bread with a gooey mozzarella filling, a seven layered lasagne, two coffee and Nutella cheesecakes and two apple and plum fudge cakes (made with homemade fudge), did I realize what was happening. For those who don’t know, INFJs are characterized as over indulging in Sensing activities if they don’t deal with their stress properly (i.e. eating, watching tv, listening to music – in other words, overloading with anything that is distracting and will cause us to tune out. Just ask my mother – she saw me go through the entire 10 seasons of Friends my grade 11 year by the end of January, when I had received the box set for Christmas!). I had watched all these shows and made all this food for one. Maybe if I had been journaling, I would have realized earlier that it wasn’t just boredom – that I was finding reasons to not meet up with people, I was avoiding friends and family in favour of McDreamy and pie. That I was going through that program low that we talked about during debriefing of CWY, that ex participants talked about, feeling like you don’t want to go out and talk to people, meet up with people.

I had gotten so used to giving that one liner with a smile on my face – “Yes, I loved the program. I love Ghana, and I love the group. It was an amazing experience, and I wish I could go back. It was great!” Now whilst all that is true, I was also frustrated a lot of the time, homesick and fed up. I got angry, and nervous, sad and anxious. There were times when I wanted it to end, and others when I hoped it would never end. It was difficult and maddening. But that’s not what people wanted to hear. They wanted a one liner to hear – the second I started saying more, it’s like I would lose people.

At the beginning, everything felt like an inside joke. Our group loved to joke and laugh, and to suddenly end that was difficult. No more ‘Crocobile Dars’ and ‘I can’t say noooooos’.

But life moves on. At least now that I am aware of it I can begin to deal with it. On Friday, two months to the day after the end of CWY, I leave for Senegal. I will be spending time with my mother, learning French and enjoying everything that country has to offer. I hope to travel more in the region, to Burkina Faso and maybe even back to Ghana. There is so much to look forward to: more blogs to be written, more food to be made and eaten, and definitely more shows to be watched. But there is also more to see, more to do, and more to experience. I’m sad to be saying bye to SA and to all my friends and family, but happy to be seeing a new and different part of the continent. Still armed with my backpack and journal, I now set out on my fourth great adventure of this year. And it sure is exciting!

If there is one thing I have learned on this trip, it is how learning is a never ending process. Whilst reflecting upon the past three months, this has been made more clear to me. Before starting my gap year, I though I was postponing my learning for a year - after all, I will be starting university in September 2012, a year behind most of my class. I think there is a serious flaw in our education system, as that is what we are told: we go to school to learn, and that is the way to become successful in life. If anything, the things I have learned in the past three months feel more relevant to my life than the past 12 years of schooling. And one of the most important lessons I have learned is just how continuous learning is. This is made most plain to me through the importance of water…

When I first arrived in Accra, we were told not to drink the tap water. Now by the time I left for Ghana in July, we no longer were buying juice in our house - I was solely consuming milk or tap water. As dairy was not easily available, and tap water was out of the question, I began to gain an appreciation of how important clean water was to my life. Ghana is fortunate in that sachets of water are easily available and relatively cheap - one bag is approximately 33 Canadian cents. Still, not being able to reach for a glass of water whenever or wherever I liked, I thought I understood the importance water plays in my life.

That was, until I arrived in Paga. All of sudden, I no longer had easy access to running water. Fortunately, my family had a tap in the center of the courtyard that I could use. All of a sudden I was showering with a single bucket of water, whilst at home I was guilty of the 15 minute showers (even 20 min on a bad day). Now I was sure - I understood the important role water plays in my life and how necessary easy access it.

That was, until the day the tap stopped flowing. I was stranded, unable to do anything: showering, washing clothes, washing dishes were all out of the question. Apart from those obvious things, I became aware of the things that I didn’t even consider: cooking became nearly impossible - how were they to boil the yams, let alone wash the pots?

We were very fortunate - it was the middle of the rainy season. I had always noticed a big drum in the corner of the coartyard: as I found out, that would be our salvation as it collected rain water that we could then use. For the meantime, half a bucket of water would have to be used, and clothes washed only when the tap started flowing again as the water in the drum was quickly depleted with more than 10 people living off it.

This time, instead of deciding that I finally understand just how important water is, I realize that all I have gained is an appreciation. I can’t know - I haven’t lived through the dry season when there is no rain water to tie us over until the tap works again. Furthermore, there will always be another situation that can teach me about the importance of water; I have never lived through a flood, or a drought.

I realize now that nothing is definitive, and that is a serious flaw in our education system: ‘there is only one answer, it’s at the back of the book, and don’t look because that is cheating!’ In reality, you can never know everything, and learning is a continuous process. To tell children that if they read enough books, they will become an ‘expert’ in a subject area only creates an idea in the world that there is an end, a definitive point at which you will ‘know’.

Maybe I’m too harsh on all the experts out there.

At least for myself, I now that I will never ‘know’, but will continue to learn.

So as I type, I am in London for the 12 hour stop over before heading to Canada. Leaving Ghana was one of the most chaotic experiences on the trip yet. After arriving at the airport, queing up at customs, checking the weights of bags and subsequently repacking those that were overweight, we lined up to check in. All was going well, three of the Ghanaians had made it through when one of the attendants noticed that the Ghanaian visa’s to Canada expired on December 17th.

The program ends in Canada on December 17th. They fly out of Canada ON December 17th. However, they arrive and fly out of London on December 18th. According to the logic, they would not be able to transit through Heathrow without a valid visa. By the time all the Canadians and the three Ghanaians who had managed to sneak by had checked in their baggage, it was clear that there was no way they were getting on the plane. So after all the preparations, and planning, packing and arranging, they were denied onto the plane.

After about 20 minutes, an official of the airport walked up and asked the Canadians to follow her - I had no idea what was happening, yet the next minute we were being ushered through to Immigration, without our supervisor, and without the rest of our group. Once through, we managed to borrow a cell phone from a woman, and called our supervisor. With reassurances that the group would be coming, we sat down and waited to board. Just as the boarding was beginning, another staff member walked up to us, and the names of our group off a piece of paper, handed us some money, and were told the rest of the group would not be flying out with us.

As I type, half our group remains in Ghana, whilst we have the grewling 12 hour wait by ourselves in the airport. As none of us have phones, we are assuming we will be met by a CWY person in the airport whilst we arrive, and that the Ghanaians will be able to sort things out within the next couple of days. Still, the thought of moving on to the new community and host families without my counterpart is daunting. For now, we hope to be reunited soon.

The one thing I keep thinking about is the stupidity of this situation. When we first embarked for Ghana, at the airport I realized that the Canadian’s visas to Ghana were only valid for 60 days, whilst our stay was around 85 days. When I inquired about this, I was told that it was easy to renew the visa once we were in the country. Simple. Yet the same courtesy cannot be extended to the Ghanaians when the situation is reversed. And their difference was only one day. More than ever this has opened my eyes to the power structures that exist in this world, and how the West are afforded privilages and advantages that the rest of the world are denied. Let alone the Canadian government who would never consider giving a visa for one extra day past the end date of the program…

A couple of weeks ago, on a quite Saturday afternoon I decided to call home to see how the family was doing. I diligently waited until 2.30 pm my time, making it 10.30 am in Canada to give time for the family to sleep in. I made myself a cup of tea and went to sit at the front of my house, which overlooks the one of the main dirt roads that links the smaller, outlying villages to the town. Since it was not a market day, the road was fairly quite, with just a few people passing by on bicycles, on foot, and a couple of goats, chickens, dogs and cats wondering around.

First I called my sister. Despite the fact that I waited until 10.30, I woke her up. She had just finished her first week of science camp for middle-schoolers that she has been planning for the whole summer, and was exhausted. That’s ok. I would leave her to sleep - we could always talk on Sunday.

Next I called my mom. After a couple of rings, she answered. I could immediately tell by the tone in her voice that she was with company, and therefore busy. Se said she could call me back later, which later turned out to be Sunday. As she later explained, she was in the middle of sorting out things in the house with two friends - things for short term storage, long term storage, throw away and give away. Moving to another continent is obviously no easy feat!

After hanging up, I took a sip of tea. I would try my dad next.

Just when I thought it was about to hit voice mail, he picked up. In the background, I could hear things being moved about. He was in a hurry, and had to leave the house in the next 5 minutes. His battery was low, and he hoped to charge it in the car, but was looking for the charger. He would call me back. When he eventually did, we had a short conversation on a bad line as he was traveling, and we eventually hung up.

Sitting in the shade, under the tree, sipping my tea, it really struck me how fast paced life is ‘out there’ and how slow life can be in a small town. I will be leaving Ghana in less than two weeks, and I can’t help thinking if my life will return to the craziness that it was before I left, and that I clearly saw that day of those around me. One thing is certain, that no matter what will happen, sometimes you just have to take time to stop, sit and watch the goats walk by.

Despite the fact that we have been here for almost three months, there is still one thing that I cannot get used to. At first I hoped that they would get used to me, and then I hoped I would get used to it, yet every time it happens, I cannot help but cringe and wish I were invisible.

When riding in the streets of Paga, it is not uncommon to hear people (more specifically children) yelling at you as you pass. And when I mean yelling, I mean children will run from their houses, drop what they are doing, and sprint to the side of the road just to yell and wave as you cycle past. What exactly do they yell?

“Fele, Fele Goodmorning. Kasena, Kasena, Dinwaro”

In the local language, Kasem, this can be loosely translated to

“White person, white person, goodmorning.Black person, black person, goodmorning”

Now when this was explained to me by the tenants who live in the same courtyard as me, I was very confused: they couldn’t be talking to me, could they? After all, living in South Africa, from the time I was really young, it was made very clear that I am definitely NOT white! (and nor do I define myself as such) They had to be yelling at the people I was riding with…

Yet when I rode by myself, they yelled the same thing. A chanting mob of kids, who run next to you as you cycle down a dirt road, yelling ‘goodmorning’ at all hours of the day is something I still can’t get over. I have begun to realize that the term ‘Fele’ is more loosely applied to mean any foreigner who can be visibly identified, just as I have learned that ‘whiteman’ is a term applied to all foreigners, regardless of whether you are white, or a man.

Yet, I can understand the fascination associated with seeing foreigners - now that I have been here for almost three months, when I see a white person passing  in a car(I have seen about 5 in total), or walking down the road (one lonely man by the boarder), I will immediately point and say ‘white person’! In such a homogeneous environment, it’s hard not to get excited…

So it has been a really long time since the last post… Life has been crazy, moving along at a surprisingly fast pace - I can’t believe we have reached the mid point of the Ghanaian phase! So here is a quick update on how my life has been going:

We are now well into our work project. We work Monday through Wednesday in Kazugu, the village 7 km out of Paga on a dirt road. Since coming to Paga, I literally have been a car three times - all the times to come to the internet cafe in the larger town. The rest of the time is spent cycling everywhere, including to the work site. It takes about 30 minutes to cycle there, but about 40 - 45 to cycle back as the way back is uphill. Although I knew it when coming, this is definitely manual labour! As we are working on a reforestation project, we aim to plant around 330 trees a day, for a total of 990 every week, or in other wards an acre every three days. Although we only work for three hours a day from 9 am to 12 pm, the work is very tiring, and very stressful on the body. The place where are working is reached only by a dirt road with numerous pot holes, so I think everyone can imagine that we are not working with any type of farm equiptment besides handheld hoes and machetes. The first day I was taught to dig with one, and bent over, wacking at the ground to dig holes to transpant trees is no easy work! Added on to the fact that we work in either the blisteringly hot sun, or get trapped in a torrential downpour (as it is the rainy season) I am as far removed from my comfort zone! But then again, as according to CWY’s catch phrase, I am definitely facing my limits!

All complaints aside, we are really working hard and I think are making a big impact. As the Young Leaders in Action project, we are in theory a group of young people all workng towards making this world a better place. We work in partnership with the youth group of Kazigo - as we learnt when we arrived, the term ‘youth’ is applied very loosely, as they don’t discriminate against age. In a recent feedback report that we, the volunteers as well as community members, gave to the CWY, one community member said that one of thier major issues is finding people to work with us. The reasons are two fold. Firstly, our group is comprised of people ranging from 17 - 22 years old. Ideally, the community would provide people within the same age brackets to work along side us in the tree transplanting. However, in the community there is still not a huge emphasis placed on early childhood learning. This means that most children wait until a certain age when THEY decide to go to school, usually at around age 8 - 10, meaning that most 17 - 22 year olds in the community are still finishing high school. Thus, most of the people we work with are over the age of 30. Secondly, the last group to come here started in with the Canadian phase first. This gave them time to fundraise money when they were there to bring back to Ghana. They then bought school supplies, and as an incentive for people in the community to volunteer, they would hand out school books and wrighting supplies to people. As we have started with the Ghanaian phase, we are unable to do so, and so people have been hesitant to come help us. This is not to say that youth haven’t been coming - the outpouring of support has been tremendous, and as I begin to get to know the people of the community better, it really is making me question my own actions back home even more. Given the opportunities that I do have, have I actually taken advantage of them?

I was speaking to one of the workers the other day. He told me his story of why he is choosing to work:

He has never been away from home before, besides to visit his aunt in a town 25 km away. That town has a population of 80, 000 and besides that he has never been far from home (his village can’t have more than 300 people) except for once when he travelled to Accra. He took the 18 hour bus journey to the capital for the first time in his life to submit his papers for CWY - he wanted to join the program. However, by the time he got there, the deadline had passed, and he found out he did not have the correct papers. He has just finished high school, and is waiting for his results. Due to insufficient funds, this was the only year he could apply, as if he didn’t get it, he has to start working. When I asked him what his dreams are, he said he wishes to be a chartered accountant. However, he does not have the money to attend university: instead, he will take advantage of the education system here - he will go to teacher’s training college to become a teacher, and then teach for three years. After that, he is elligable to take education leave, where the government will pay for him to go to school. This will enable him to achieve his dreams. He told me that although he is frustrated because he didn’t get on the program, and he can’t afford to go to university, he works everyday on the fields because he wants to become friends with us as he thinks we could really help him reach his dreams. So nearly every day, he comes to work with us - this, despite the fact that he works on other farms as well. All the time he was saying how he hopes to keep in contact with us so that we might be able to help him, I kept thinking how much he is affecting my life - meeting someone so determined to reach thier goals by all means necessary, and so focused, coming from such a small town, what have I done with all the opportunities given to me?