Does buying fair trade ‘stick it to the man’ or just hurt the small farmer that is trying to survive?

            I have this thing with cocoa. About 60-70% of the whole world’s cocoa supply comes from West Africa. Apparently the majority of that cocoa is farmed by underpaid workers or child slaves living in horrible conditions. The fact that something like this is still going on in the 21^st century and we support it by buying Nestle chocolate bars seemed outrageous to me when I first heard about it in January. It was enough to get me to stop eating chocolate that was not fair trade. My logic was as follows, the small bit of control I have is over my own actions and my own purchases, so I could do my part by buying fair trade. It has been about ten months now, and after living in Ghana for a month, discussing cocoa farms a lot, and listening to what people here have to say, my mind has perhaps been changed (sorry Ben!).

            Ghana and Cote d’Ivoire are the largest cocoa producing countries in the world. Perfect for me then, to live in Ghana and to be able to do a little bit of first hand research on an issue that is near and dear to my heart. What I have learned is that cocoa production here is completely controlled by the government. Each town has a central cocoa station and farmers can only sell their beans to them. The government buys the beans from the farmers at a low price, brings it into factories to refine and package, and then sells the powder to make a huge profit. Now my question is, by not buying cocoa that was farmed in Africa, am I really making it harder for the corrupt government, who will evidently always find a way to profit from the less fortunate, or am I really just depriving the small farmer of the little that they had to feed their family?

            Furthermore, I have yet to see a giant cocoa farm with underpaid workers in Ghana. Yes, the children do work on the farm. Yes, they may be forced to and not make any money. But it is a family business and they are helping out their parents. Is it really all the different from our parents who worked in the orchard or our friends who help milk the cows on the weekend? Not from my point of view. Yes they are younger than we may like or agree with, but it is also a different culture and way of life. I do not know if I can really look down my nose at that. Western standards cannot always be simply applied to non-Western societies. Life is much more complex than that.

            Ok, so you may be thinking “This is just an easy way out so she can eat the good part of Dairy Queen ice cream cake again.” But truly it is not. I am not going to give it up just yet. Everything I have told you about is based on what I have actually seen and different people I have spoken with, but there is so much more to learn. I want to find out where those so-called slave farms are, and what the workers actually think of their jobs. I think that all too often I see a situation as sub-standard with my Western standard goggles on. I do not take the time to dig deeper and obtain the necessary context to see the situation clearly. One cannot pick a single thing out of an environment and evaluate it from that angle when so many issues are so complex and interwoven with one another.

            Even if all the farms in Ghana were ‘fair-trade certified’, the government would still be controlling profits and wages. They would still find some way to exploit and take advantage of the farms. I just don’t think that the solution lies in charging farms a large fee to obtain the certification. It could easily turn into a situation where the big, rich farmers are able to bribe and pay for certification, while the small farmers who cannot afford this, and really need the sales, are left behind in the dust. What I am really trying to get at here is that when the government seems to be the root issues, maybe we should try to do something about that, rather than buying fair trade so we feel better about ourselves.

            I must admit that my abstaining from chocolate was mostly because it was all I really wanted to do. I knew that it is definitely not the solution to the problem at hand, but it was the easy way to feel like I was at least making a small difference. Because a small difference is still something right? Wrong. Not when it is with the wrong attitude. Deep down I knew the truth. I could devote my spare time, even my life to a cause, trying to influence the government and strive to get check and balances put in place, or I could just do without the warm chocolate brownie. Easier choice = no brownie. In my head, buying fair trade justifies taking no other action. This is a severely flawed and dangerous mindset, which I have been made painfully aware of. I told myself that I would stop eating that chocolate until I really found out what kind of action I would take. Now ten months later I still have not actively searched for a solution. Embarrassing to admit, yes; completely honest, yes; wholly necessary, absolutely. I thought that after this long of sticking to a principle so strictly I would feel like I have accomplished something, but now I realize all I’ve really accomplished is 10 months of apathy.  I’m not sure what the next step is, but I know it must be intentional.

A cocoa tree on the farm I visited.

 My cocoa beans in the sun!

“What time will we leave?” “Mmm… When the sun shines, then we go.”

I have learned that Ghana time is different than my time. I know that everyone says that there is time, and then there is African time. But I experienced this on a much larger scale on Friday and Saturday. Friday we went to Accra Mall for a few hours, because we needed some supplies for teaching, and other stuff for our house that you cannot get in Asamankese. Anyways on the way home we took a taxi to the crazy crazy tro-tro station. It’s called ‘Circle’ because it is on the corner of a huge roundabout in town. We had been there once before, but Mr. Anim-Addo was with us and he could easily navigate through the maze of hundreds of tro-tros going to various towns all over the region. This time, it was Heather and I versus the world. Oh man was it ever overwhelming. Here’s the thing, it’s not your typical bus station per se. There are no signs pointing you in the direction of your ‘platform’ or a huge board detailing which bus leaves at which time. Some tro-tros have signs on the top of them that say which town they are going to, but mostly everyone just knows where they are going so they don’t need signs. We, not being native to the country and area, have no idea where stations are. We may have gotten lost in a sea of tro-tros, vendors, stalls, and taxis. Heather managed to keep her head about her and just kept asking people for our town name, and with continuous pointing, we finally got there. So we paid our fee (2.20 Ghana Cedis, or roughly $1.5) and got on the tro-tro. And proceeded to wait in the steamy van (by this time it was 3 in the afternoon) for an hour. An hour. A part of me thinks it would have been better had we known it would be an hour. This was one of those times where you think you could leave in 5 minutes, which turns into 15, and so on and so on. So, that was one experience with Ghanaian time.

The next one comes with Auntie Jo. So I was very excited to see a cocoa farm in action on Saturday, I have never seen a cocoa tree before and for some reason I am just super interested. Saturday morning around seven Auntie Jo came into our house to say good morning, so I asked what time we would be going to the cocoa farm. Her answer? “Mmmm, when the sun shines, then we go.” Really Auntie Jo? When the sun shines? It’s already shining as far as I am concerned, it has risen into the sky… So we left at 9. Lesson learned: always be ready to leave your house at a moment's notice.

Monday I went for a very long walking tour around the town. I generally know the layout from going to the market and trips to Accra, but I haven’t weaved in and out of every street. Part of my job is to make a directory of all the banks and loan companies in Asamankese, so I began by taking picture of all of the locations and making a primitive map with their names on it. Needless to say, many things can happen to you on one walk here. Let me just list a few:

• Random guy insisting on walking with me for about 20 minutes down the street, asking for my phone number, asking if I wanted him to buy me a lollipop, and proceeding to sing me the song Lollipop. Worst. Ever.
• Discovering that stopping every few minutes and taking a picture of a building is very odd in Asamankese and everyone will point and stare and laugh at you if you choose to do so.
• Women in the market helping you find sweet potatoes (or ntomo), to the point of actually leading you out of the market, down and across the street to a vendor quite far away. Success.
• Most women really do like it if you speak English with their daughters so that they can have the practice. I was trying to speak some Twi to obtain groundnut paste (natural peanut butter), but I was told “No, speak English with her.”

I began my individual interviews with the women from our classes yesterday and for the most part they are going really well. It is so interesting to hear more details about their lives and to get a bit off topic. It is also cool to see the trends and form ideas about what the main issues are here. One thing I have noticed is a stark difference in levels of wealth. Some women seem to be dirt poor with no husband and 5 children to take care of. They might make 2 Cedis a week and they need to feed everyone and send everyone to school. The numbers just do not really add up. I am not sure how they manage, but they say they do. I also feel a little bit awkward asking them such blunt questions like “How much money do you make?” or “Do you have a bank account?” or “If you do not have a bank account, where do you keep your money?” (I always get lots of giggles with that question). Really, most of them don’t have bank accounts, because there would be no point. They put the minuscule amounts that they make right into their purse because they will have to spend it soon enough on something else. My heart is breaking for these women, especially because with their joyful demeanor you would never know that this struggle plagues them each day.

On another completely different note, Heather and I head out to the mountains this weekend. It is supposed to be a bit colder there so we’re bringing sweaters! Yes, this is wildly exciting to me, if you can imagine. So I will leave you with another attempt at a bullet list, because there are many more things I want to tell you about but time is of the essence I suppose.

• I have created a document titled ‘useful things Heather tells me that I will want in the future’ because Heather continuously tells me about fabulous places I must go or things to do and I know once we leave I will immediately forget them all.
• Each night we have a bit of a tradition of Trivial Pursuit and Tea Time. Not the best title but it is pretty self explanatory. We will have all the cards memorized by the end of this trip. I now know who Kevin Keegan is, so my IQ is already rising. Yes, we do get stuck at the end of the game on the orange piece (sports) and resort to giving mad clues.
• New favourite snack: banana with groundnut paste. The bananas are small and delightful and the groundnut paste is just so nutty. Mmm.
• You should never give your phone number out when living in a foreign country such as Ghana. Even if it is to the nice girl that you pass by every day on the way to the market. I know this. I have gotten 4 phone calls from boys since then. One of which, I might add, was at 6:10 in the morning! Probably my biggest mistake since coming here.
• The kindness of people still amazes me. Example: we got out of a cab, walked across the street, down a little bit, and got on a tro tro. A lady came up to the window of the tro tro we were on because she had picked up the nickel that Heather had dropped when getting out of the cab. She had followed us and given it back. Yeah. Insanity. She would not take it when Heather offered it to her.
• Our house got hit by lightning today. We freaked out. There was the loudest popping/crashing/exploding sort of sound, our bedroom light bulb went out, and I screamed. Heather screamed. Nothing else happened.

Ok lengthy, yes, but what else did you expect? I have not been one known to keep my stories short and to the point. I blab on until the whole point of the story is lost. But I hope that the trees are beautiful and the pumpkins are orange and the air is crisp.

Love

Awake My Soul

So I may have mentioned Mumford & Sons already (the band), but now I am going to semi-force a song upon you. It is hard for me to pick a favourite song by them, but this is up there for me. And since I have not been particularly inspired this week for a new post about our life (even though a lot has happened), I will leave you with this taste of aural beauty. I also recommend listening the song as you read the lyrics.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHWsKTSdS74
(might not be the best quality, I couldn't watch the whole thing because of our internet)


Awake My Soul - Mumford & Sons

How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes
I struggle to find any truth in your lies
And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know
This weakness I feel I must finally show

Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all
But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall
Lend me your eyes I can change what you see
But your soul you must keep, totally free
Har har, har har, har har, har har

In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your life
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love, you invest your life

Awake my soul, awake my soul
Awake my soul
You were made to meet your maker
Awake my soul, awake my soul
Awake my soul
You were made to meet your maker
You were made to meet your maker

 

I tried to capture the sky. Gorgeous.

"Intense..." "Just like camping!" thanks Heather

Our program has really been established now and we have somewhat of a routine. Heather looks after the larger level 2 class and I look after the small level 1 class. My class moved into the kindergarten building which is still on the church premises. I had such a surreal experience with that though. Here we were, in a dimly lit room, with tiny tables and tiny chairs fit for 4 or 5 year-olds, but the women just sat in them with no complaining or moving around. They couldn’t have been very comfortable but learning is so much more important to them. Then, it started raining so hard on the tin roof that you could barely hear the teacher. I thought we might just pause class for a while until it let up. Auntie Julie (the teacher) kept teaching, however, and the ladies kept their attention as though they couldn’t hear anything else. And then it started to rain even harder. I could not hear a word she was saying. Furthermore, there were leaks in the roof, so some of the ladies were getting dripped on. They just nonchalantly moved their books over so they wouldn’t get wet and didn’t make a fuss or anything. I couldn’t help compare it to a classroom in Canada. Maybe younger kids can be excused for bad behaviour and attention span because of their age, but even in university students don’t put the same amount of effort into our studies. Heather and I were talking and if the power went out for 5 minutes, our profs would probably cancel the rest of class, even though it came back on ten minutes later. It’s just a different world.

I am getting pretty excited about the program. I know that my part isn’t  really the literacy program, but I love helping out and interacting with the women. I have built some relationships and next week I will begin interviewing them about their trades and their jobs. It is honestly just such a cool way to learn. I just hear some sort of new information every day. Like the other day I found out that health insurance for the year in Ghana is 14 cedis, or around 11$. Then they don’t have to pay for doctor visits or medication. The sad thing is that many people cannot afford that seemingly miniscule amount, so when they do get sick, they somehow have to pay the 50 cedi or more for whatever treatment they need. I just want to find out who doesn’t have health insurance and buy it for them! Gah!

Ok another thing I learned is that at the one school there are too many kids so half of them come from 7-12 and half from 12-5. We were walking home from class and like 15 kids were following us on their way home. They walk about 5 miles to school every day. That’s pretty far, especially for a young child about 7 or 8 walking on a busy road with no sidewalk. My mom would have a heart attack if I did that when I was that age. But there is no other choice for these kids really.

Did I ever mention that we met two British boys (Dan and Max) whilst in Kokrobite? We got to talking, a lot about development, and found out that they are filming a documentary about volunteers in Ghana. They actually asked us if they could interview us for their film. We didn’t think anything would really come of it, but Monday night Dan called me and said “so how does Wednesday work for you?”. So they came all the way from Accra (2.5 hour tro tro ride) to our small town of Asamankese. We asked the ladies in the class before they came if it would be ok, and they all got really excited. When we arrived with them on Wednesday, all the ladies were in nice clothes and a few of them had gotten their hair done for the occasion. It was really endearing. They did really well though, concentrating hard on their studies even though they knew there was a camera watching them. I know it’s just a small documentary, but it will still be cool to send to the women so they can see themselves in a real movie. My favourite part was that they interviewed one student, Alberta. They asked her about how the program was affecting her after 2 weeks and what she thought of it. Hearing directly how she is benefiting was so promising. She said she can already see how they are improving and the new things they are learning (like past participle). Dan also asked her what she would think if the program continued all year. She said “like school? I think everyone would love that.” That is mine and Heather’s big goal, we’ve discussed it a bunch of times. Mostly because we aren’t even the actual teachers, we just provide some capital, lesson plans (Heather does that), and other teaching materials. We also mark the workbooks and make sure classes run smoothly. The teachers ask us questions from time to time. But really we would love to see that if we left money here, they could continue the program in January when we aren’t here. We still have to figure out the logistics of it all, but that is our dream.

These blogs just seems to get out of hand. I start typing and I just keep going and I don’t even feel like I scratch the surface of telling you about what is happening here. Oh well, all I can do is try right. Today we are going to meet an American girl who is also living in Asamankese, working for an organization called Flower that works to empower women. So that will be interesting and good to talk to someone new. Saturday is looking to be a pretty eventful day. I am going to go see a cocoa farm! Many of you know that this is a soft spot for me and holds a lot of interest, so I will get to see if there are indeed child slaves working there. Although I’m pretty sure there won’t be because it won’t be one of those massive farms. Regardless, I am excited to see the process, maybe buy some cocoa beans and grind them with a mortar and pestle. Yeah, I am that hardcore. Also on Saturday Belinda is going to show us how to make donuts. And yes I do realize that this is possible to do in Canada. But it’s somehow still cooler in Ghana right? At 4 on Saturday on of our students, Juliana K, is coming for extra help. Really we are going to go over Wednesday’s lesson. She can never come on Wednesdays because she has to go to Accra to purchase her fish to sell in the market here in Asamankese. Saturday is full, and I love full days. I’m pumped.

So it’s killing me that I can’t just add pictures that correspond to each of my stories. At the internet café, I can only upload one picture each time and it takes 15 minutes to do so. But hopefully our internet situation will improve soon and I can share with you some visual aids of what my life is like here. A picture is worth a thousand words, after all. Alright, shout out to everyone who is in midterms… not the best, sorry about your luck, but study hard! It is your second last semester, after all. Also I thought I was missing out on a lot because people are getting engaged and married while I am gone, but those things seem to pale a bit in comparison because Heather’s sister went into labour last night. New niece = winner. Until next time…

Sun, Sand, and Shoprite

Wow, a lot has happened even in 4 or 5 days. It’s funny, each individual day seems to hold a weeks worth of information and new experiences. I am never really prepared for what it ends up bringing. I guess my new motto should be ‘expect the unexpected’. That just seems so cliché though.

I will start at the beginning, with a general overview of our weekend and the events that transpired. We set out on Thursday morning for our beach ‘resort’ getaway. We took the 3 hour tro-tro ride to Accra and from there went to a small village called Kokrobite. Turns out Accra isn’t actually set on the ocean, its more inland.

So we arrived, dusty and sweaty, to the beautiful sight that the ocean almost always is. I’m not sure, but I always take such comfort in watching the waves come in and out, constant and true at every shoreline they touch. So although I do not live on or anywhere near the ocean, it felt like a bit of home halfway across the world. The beach is familiar. What wasn’t so familiar was the small commune of Rastas planted just outside the gate of our abode. But I will get more into that later. Lets just say we drank in the view and felt the delicious sea breeze on our skin and knew this was exactly what we needed.

On Friday our friend, Michael Duah, came to visit us. His family actually lives in Ghana, in a town called Kasoa not too far from Kokrobite. We know him because he goes to Redeemer with us in Canada. Lucky for us he has been in Ghana since May and came out to see us in Asamankese last week and came to visit us again. So we hung out all day, watched the drum show that they have every Friday night, and went to bed (much earlier than all the other expats, I might add).

Saturday Duah came back to visit and take us out for a bit. We saw the inside of a grocery store! Shoprite, it was called. Who knew that Nutella was available in Ghana? Not I, that’s for sure. Only for 18 Cedi, no less (about $15). So that was interesting. We got to see a part of Ghana that we hadn’t really gotten a chance to yet. The more wealthy parts I would say. Huge houses that sit atop huge hills, and a beautifully paved toll highway with few potholes. I felt a world away from Asamankese with its few paved main roads and rocky dirt paths used as roads. We also got to see the church and new school that Duah’s father is building, so that was pretty cool.

We left on Sunday, hoping to avoid the chaos that might ensue in Accra because there was a Ghana football match that afternoon. The actual match was in Kumasi, but I guess everyone watches it and gets right into it, so riots can break out in Accra as well.

Now we are back in our guest house, back in the swing of things and it’s oddly comforting to have a home away from home to come back to, with familiar faces that we know.

Throughout this overview I have been dying to offer small anecdotes of details of what happened, but for ease of reading I have decided to attempt the bulleted list approach once again. I will try to go in order of sequence.

• I am not sure if I will ever get used to the blatant relieving of oneself on the side of the road here. Especially the school boys who literally reach up their shorts to arrange themselves rather than using the zipper. Do they know it could be easier?
• I have conceded to the sad truth that I will be generally filthy until I go home and have a good long shower. Even after I scrub and scrub, I still feel like there is a layer of dirt permanently etched on my skin. Tro-tro rides do not help this cause very much. I made the mistake of wearing a white shirt… the outside of which is just caked in dusty dirt. Mmmm.
• Our ‘resort’ consisted of a collection of tiki huts. Ours, luxuriously, had a washroom attached to it. An outdoor washroom. No lie, there was no ceiling. Furthermore, the shower (which was a pipe that came over the wall) was about 3 feet away from the toilet, in the same area, nothing dividing it. So if you take a shower, the toilet gets soaked. It was interesting to say the least. Also it may sound really earthy and exciting, but it isn’t the best in the pitch black of night when ants litter the toilet seat and you can’t really see what is going on.
• The bar in the center of the tiki huts started playing music at 8 in the morning and continued until about 2 or 3 in the morning. I haven’t listened to that much consecutive Bob Marley in a long time. Some other treats were Ja Rule, Tupac, and my favourite which was a song that went “Obama, Obama, Barak, Obama” over and over again. What a gem.
• Rastas smoke a lot of marijuana. A lot. We were made painfully aware of this fact when we would sit atop the lounge looking out at the ocean and wafts of the scent would constantly drift toward us. All they did all day was smoke, drum, and try to sell their overpriced goods to unsuspecting tourists. Ok that is a huge generalization of Rastas, but that is what I experienced.
• Duah visiting us was a huge blessing. It was so nice to see a familiar face and hear first hand of his honest opinion about his country, what he thought of fufu, and to talk about Redeemer. He seemed to genuinely care and wanted to make sure we had a good time in Ghana, which was really comforting. Also, I tried this stuff called fan milk, purchased from someone on the side of the road. It’s basically a vanilla milkshake in a bag. Like it used to be ice cream but since its so hot all the time, its just cold liquid deliciousness. You just bite a hole in the bag and suck it out, like you do with the bags of water here. Best thing ever, and now it is all I can do to restrain myself from buying one every day.
• The last thing I wanted to talk about was the fishing boats that were on the beach. It was really cool to watch. Every morning a boat would go out and drop fishing nets. Then everyone, men, women, and children, would help pull the nets in. They all worked together beforehand too, organizing and untangling the nets. Then when all the fish came, the kids would pick up the small ones that escaped from the net and the ladies would put them in their big bowls on their heads and prepare them for smoking. It was really cool to see everyone doing their part and taking their fair share to live off of. Inspiring, even.

So now it’s already Wednesday and so much more has happened but again I will just post this blog now and try to keep up better! Also, remember that time I made bullet points but they were really just paragraphs? My bad. 

"Everyone in Ghana loves Weezy"

Every once in a while at night we hang out with Belinda and Kwaiku who work for their grandmother on the compound that we are living in. We live in a guest house on the property of a lady we call “Auntie Jo”. Older women are usually referred to as Auntie here. Anyways we play music that we brought for Belinda and Kwaiku and see if they like it or know it. I, of course, being a no-so-secret Lil Wayne fan (guilty pleasure artist) decided it was fitting (Kwaiku loves Jay-Z and other rappers…) so I started up some Lil Wayne (a.k.a. Weezy). Kwaiku immediately recognized it and said “Weezy! Everyone in Ghana loves Weezy!” This was great news for me to hear. P.S. Not really sure if it is Wheezy or Weezy. I don’t think it really matters too much… Just saying.

Other music that I am listening to on a consistent basis here is A Fine Frenzy – One Cell in the Sea. Two of the songs on it I have loved for a while but I only recently started listening to the whole album start to finish. I love it. Ray Lamontagne is a classic, and Mumford & Sons is a mutual love between Heather and I so they get a lot of play time. It makes me sad that I am missing out on three months of discovering new music (one of my favourite pastimes). I will have lots to catch up on when I get home!

We began the literacy classes with the ladies on Tuesday. It really rejuvenated my spirit because it was so interesting to hear all of their stories and why they want to be able to speak/read/write English. Many of their children are in school and come home speaking English but they cannot respond to them so their kids laugh at them. Almost all of them sell things whether in shops, on the road, or in the market, so when people come that only know English and no Twi, they cannot sell their goods or communicate how much things cost. Again, the English speaking people laugh at them. The freedom to travel around anywhere they want to go is also a big motivator for the women. Even in Ghana the official language is English so there are some areas that do not speak Twi. There are many more specific, heartbreaking stories but that is the summary. It was refreshing because they all are good humoured, bright, and eager to learn. I was so encouraged by their passion to learn.

Have I mentioned the generosity here? We have already been given gifts of bananas, pineapples, and papayas. The lady who brought us pineapple got them from Accra, which is a 3 hour tro-tro ride. I have no idea how to express my gratitude to them except to say thank you very much in their language. It does not seem sufficient, but I have nothing else to offer them! Or at least I have not thought of anything yet.

One of my challenges while I am here is to love everyone. It might seem like it would be easier to do when in Africa, however frustrations still come about with people and different cultures. Anyways I love the book of Romans and especially Romans 12. I want to leave you with Romans 12: 9-10.

“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves.”

There is so much more goodness after that, really I want to write the whole chapter, but attention spans are getting shorter and shorter these days I expect. Yeah, no bullet list today. Maybe I will have some short events to describe after this weekend! Heather and I are heading out of this village into a bit more of civilization and the beach! We are going to Kokrobite. It took me a while to learn how to say it, trust me. Anyways, until next time.

Awesome thing: Clean laundry. No matter where you are. It’s always awesome (but more than ever when you washed each item by hand). Ok maybe not the folding part so much. But you get the idea.

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving!

 

(my finished laundry)

Also I wrote this last Tuesday and didn't have internet until now... hence why some of this may seem very out of date. Love!

The Rains Down in Africa

Ghana is hot.

Knowing this, maybe I should have brought more simple cotton clothes. I have worn the same 3 skirts every day so far. I throw my one dress on whenever I get home and I know we are not going to leave the house again. Essentially, I brought too many clothes, thinking that I might, on the off chance, actually want to look stylish. False. I have a small amount of hope that I will get used to the heat and maybe then I will want to wear my cool new cotton pants I got super cheap at French Connection. Mostly I know that the first time I will wear them will be on the plane ride home. I have accepted my fate.

More on the weather. It is actually beautiful in the mornings before 9 am. Breezy and not too hot. However, between the hours of 9 and 3 the sun breaks through the clouds and makes me sweat right through my clothes. Gross, I know, too much information, perhaps, but c’est la vie. After 3 it starts to cool down again, to about 25 degrees. The humidity lingers though. The sun sets at about 6. Which makes for a long night but everyone goes to bed at 9 ish and gets up around 5. Such a different life, I have not quite adjusted. We usually go to bed around 10 and get up at 7. 9 hours of sleep… hmm... maybe sleeping too much?

Ok so the whole point of me explaining the weather to you was to tell you a story. The clouds come and go at a rapid pace here, it continuously looks like it is going to rain and then fails to. One blessed day however, the heavens released their splendor and we got a thunderstorm. Oh glorious pouring rain. Naturally, we stood outside in the courtyard and got soaked to the skin. It felt so good you don’t even know. It felt like God was literally washing away our frustrations and anxieties away with every drop. Beauty.

Heather and I have been to the market three times this week. Each time is a unique experience. Mondays and Thursdays are market days. This is code for insanely busy and loud. Initially I thought this meant that the market was only open Mondays and Thursdays. Not true, it’s open every other day as well. So you can get everything you need any day. I guess there are a greater variety of vendors on market days.  So part of my job while I am here is to interview the ladies selling goods at the market. For some reason, I naively thought that this would be a simple task. I sort of pictured a farmer’s market in Canada, but a bit more hectic. Again, I was very mistaken. Everything is so loud and crazy the first time I went I was so overwhelmed because I could see no method to the madness, any organization, or way to navigate. Inside I was panicking, how was I to find these women, let alone take fifteen minutes of their time to do my silly questionnaire that they probably will not appreciate? After going a couple of more times, my thoughts have settled. I have time here to learn where everything is in the market and to meet the ladies. I just won’t be asking them any probing questions my first few weeks here.

Oops, so much for bullet points. Here are a few simple things:

-          Men walk around with machetes all the time and it is completely fine so just stay cool and stop staring…

-          I suck at pounding Fufu. It’s tiring!

-          I am also the worst at mashing tomatoes with a mortar and pestle. Everyone straight up laughed at me. Nbd.

-          It is helpful to have a boyfriend back home and proof of it because everyone asks you and if you say no they inevitably think its ok to suggest that you marry someone from their country.

-          Women here love gold earrings that have words on them such as “Nike” or “Hot Girl”

-          Handkerchiefs are legit to wipe sweat off your face. That’s how everyone does it. (This is in contrast to handkerchiefs being used in place of tissues for blowing your nose. Not legit.)

-          Listening to Lauryn Hill seems so much more fitting when you are in Africa

Alright that’s all for now. Much love!

Awesome thing: blasting The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (or some other classic late 90’s album) and still knowing all of the words.