Suggestion #1: Find fragments

On a VERY bumpy road to a small, tropical town called Kyepi, we entered a large village. Along the road were hundreds of people running to the windows of the car trying to sell sweet breads, dried fish, and water. behind them were the little roadside stalls with more of the same goods. The scene is frantic, with snarled traffic, dusty roads, and people all in commotion. Amidst the calamity came the calm: a clear, clean sign for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I have never felt much from fonts (though a good sans serif gives me occasional glee), this fragment of familiarity buoyed me up on a turbulent road.

Outreach: Teshie

Our group of 11 volunteers crammed into a van and rode through hectic traffic to a poor neighborhood on the outskirts of Accra called Teshie. I thought Bismark made a mistake when we pulled off a dirt road onto an even worse road that went around a school and into a field where a church building stood with an outdoor pavilion. Goats and chickens ran in horror as our van pulled up. Inside the large, cement church building were 200-250 people, mostly over the age of 40 patiently awaiting our arrival.

The ophthalmic nurse, Dennis Baah gave a short presentation about common misconceptions about treating eyes ("Do not try to treat eye problems with urine or breast milk" was one of the key objectives). After we had introduced ourselves, the patients went through a series of stations where we measured their visual acuity, received an examination by Dennis, and received eye meds and/or glasses. I spent most of my day assessing visual acuity and dispensing medicine and glasses.

The entire time, little kids would stop and stare. The brave ones would play games with us or say hello. One 3 year old girl came up from behind and grabbed my hand. She didn't know any English (they speak a language called Ga in this particular area). She spent most of the day playing in the courtyard, picking up rocks, chasing other kids, and playing peek-abo with me. Children seem more resilient here--very few cry, even if they take a tumble in the dirt.



One of the old women who helped organize the event told me that she was going to go get water, "But not the one that makes your stomach runny." She came back with bottled water. So far, my stomach is not runny.

One of the things I appreciate about the women in Ghana is their fashion sense--although glasses are not the fashion accessory of choice her, they get very particular about how they will look. We have to make sure that they don't choose the frames over their ability to see. They wear these beautiful dresses, gowns and head wear--so bright and detailed!

I am a Ghana

In an instant, I am gone.

Well, more like after 16 hours of flight time, I am gone.

Jamie dropped me off at LGA yesterday morning. Fighting back tears we said arrivaderci (which, looking back probably wasn't the most accurate language to use). All 145 pounds of me moved all 160 pounds of my luggage through a coral of check-ins, security check-ins, security screening, check-in-check-ins, and onto the plane.



My bags contained the following essential items:

1 indirect opthalamascope (it sort of looked like the medical devices Will Smith was selling in the "Pursuit of Happiness," only with less beige and more bubble wrap...more on this later)
250 pairs of glasses
6 pounds of beef jerky
~10 L'Oreal products
20 pounds of granola/energy bars
1 1-person tent
4 cans of 100% DEET
5 outfits (variety on an African/medical theme...NOTE: some articles, i.e. pants and shirts that don't show dirt/stench may appear in multiple looks)
1200 copies of patient intake forms & informed consent
1 water-bottle fan
1 tropical first aid kit that should earn me another First Aid merit badge

I felt like I got away with something by sneaking all my heavy items into one of my carry-ons. All was rosy until I attempted to heft the rolling anvil warehouse into the ultra-slim overhead compartment. Shifting a lump of granola bars around, I was able to ram the bag in, though I made sure that it would not be resting precariously over MY head during the flight.

I made it to Atlanta ok, where it was once again confirmed to me that Chick-Fil-A, Jesus, and big hair are all the rage.

Knowing my time in the Western hemisphere to be limited, i paid my tribute to the western cuisine and got on a plane for Ghana.

On this leg, I was extra lucky--I was on an aisle seat, AND the person next to me failed to show up (maybe they asked to change seats after smelling my insect-repellent soaked clothes. The flight was mixed with snoring, a man walking around without his shirt, a breakfast items that looked like a chocolate brioche but ended up being a Jamaican pie with black beans (words cannot describe my surprise).

After a long flight, we arrived in Accra, where my luggage had arrived mostly intact. The final test was to run the customs gauntlet. Keep in mind, that I was low-hanging fruit for a customs officer: I was obviously not Ghanaian, I had way too much luggage, and I wore glasses (we are the first to be picked on). Sure enough, I was pulled aside and asked to display the contents of my luggage. The first bag was the one stuffed with glasses and the sketchy-looking medical device. When opened, the women's surprise was obvious: "What is this thing?" she asked. Panicked, i started to make a medical explanation "You see, traditional opthalamascopes only allowed doctors to visualize a certain portion of the retina..." I could see she was losing interest...my plan was working! Next was my large back-lacking bag, where i noticed a watermelon-cucumber-sunscreen-min toothpaste smell emanating from a moist portion of the bag. I had packed my cloths in tight bright duffel bags which closely resembled plastic explosives. Miraculously, she waved me on. My other Unite For Sight friends had their glasses held in customs for an hour, while I slipped through.





We were greeted by Jerome and an assistant who helped us pile into a large van/bus/leftover piece of cold war transportation. The streets were crowded with men and women trying to sell plantain chips, drinks, soccer balls, super glue, even puppies to the gridlocked traffic. Women balanced large baskets of goods on their heads as they gracefully moved between the cars. A man on the corner was chopping coconuts with his machete, while another was churning cassava into fufu. The roads were in terrible shape; pot holes the size of small dinosaurs pocked the streets. Finally, we made it to our little hostel, a clean place in the northern part of the city.



We unpacked, exchanged money, got a bite to eat (I had joffah rice and kewele (fried plantains)) while flies buzzed around our table. now we are back and the journey that started more than 30 hours ago is finally catching up.

I am thrilled to be in Ghana, working with amazing physicians, nurses, and volunteers. From my first impressions, the Ghanaian people are very kind and happy. The attendant at the front desk of the guest house was so excited when I told her that my parents were moving to Ghana that she clapped her hands and let out a little cheer. I can not help but think of my parents and the adventure they are in for.

Most of all, I miss Jamie--it is a funny thing how oblivious I have been to the large role she is in my life. I am glad that she is busy in NYC, and that her sister can keep her company. Jamie is supportive of me and my dreams, even if they make her life more challenging. She deserves big blessings.

I will post periodically, so if you are looking for time to kill, check back often.