This is Africa

I sit down to write this blog with the thought that it will be one of my final entries concerning my journey here in Africa. What an incredible, eye-opening, soul enriching experience it has been for me. I want to start by thanking all of you who have continued to read and take this journey with me. I would look forward every week to reading your comments and emails of love and encouragement that only helped to strengthen my light and sturdy my heart and feet on the unpaved road ahead. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you. My flight may leave in a week's time but my experiences in Africa will continue to carry me in many ways through my life.
I will continue a blog entry about many of the new experiences to come in my life at www.loosechangetrio.com. This is my band's website and the people and projects I have decided on to help here in Africa I will fundraise for with "Loose Change Trio." So, to keep up to date with this progress and the progress of the band, I would invite you to read my new blog on our website. It should be up and running just after Christmas and if not, I ask for your patience until it is.
And now, here lies a few stories of the past two weeks...
Last weekend, I took a good friend of mine who I have mentioned in past entries, Mahadev, on an excurion to Nkoranza and Kintempo falls. On Friday night we stayed in a place called "Operation Hand in Hand" that houses mentally handicapped children who have been abandoned by their parents. Traditionally, it is the belief that a mentally handicapped child is born when the mother has been raped by a water spirit. After birthing the child, the mother will then take the new born to the river's edge so it can be collected by its rightful parents. Now, as education increases on this subject matter, less are being abandoned but it still remains a large problem.
I believe it was seven or eight years ago that a Dutch woman, along with two or three locals, took it upon themselves to buy some property and then collect these children from poorly run and over populated medical facilities that were housing the abandoned, and care for them.
Not without its fair share of trials and tribulations, "Operation Hand in Hand" has currently grown into a gorgeous verdant, tree shaded property with a playground, small swimming pool and fountain, and many different huts used for activities such as music, dancing, napping, movies, art and the absolutely essential, cuddling. It houses over forty children and provides a vocational school where the older children can employ their skills in beadwork, by both making glass beads with recycled bottles they crush and melt into various shapes in the clay ovens, and by stringing together unique jewelery, each piece tagged with the name of the child who created it. They also have a kente weaving room where the children learn to weave shirts and traditional dress. The money from their work, along with the money from traveller's that stay the night, an internet cafe they have started, a small store they now own and the generosity of donors help to fund this amazing project.
We spent the night with one of the owner's, a Chicagoian in his seventies who loved the theatre and Frank Sinatra. We were serenaded for a good portion of the night by this jolly bearded Jewish man who looks for the smallest of opportunities to take the stage and educate the ears of those who are unfortunate enough to not have heard the little known Sinatra tunes that are brimming in every corner of his mind.
School ended on Tuesday with the "Cultural Performance" that was to showcase each class singing the individual songs Nathan and I taught them. And though the children are now in exams, Comfort continues to come after school to Namaskar house for more tutorials. As each day passes, she brings a larger contingent of friends who are all equally as eager to receive extra education.
Soon after I arrived here in Ejura, I wanted to do something with my nights that would bring me closer to the boys at Namaskar and help open up their imaginations and english comprehension. One night out of the week I took them to the field to play football, which grew exponentially with all the local kids eager to join and live out their football day dreamings. Another night of the week I took the boys into the meditation room to read a story to them.
Over the last month I find myself reading stories to them most every night upon their beckon call of "Hey, Story Master! Are you ready?" The kids in the room range from nine years old to sixteen and all listen with eager ears, hearts and minds. Two nights ago I read them "Pinochio." They gasped and their eye lids flapped open - like pull down blinds you absentmindedly let go of - at the notion of an old man floating on a makeshift raft in the belly of a whale at the bottom of the sea. The mention of the possible death or endangerment of a main character ellicits this same pure, unbridled reaction that is a blessing to witness.
I will miss these boys.
There are so many other stories and I look forward to sharing them with you when I return home, as well as hearing your own.
Again, I invite you to keep up with my next phase of adventures at www.loosechangetrio.com. The band soon plans to travel over seas to promote the new record that is going to be released in February.
I may squeeze out one more blog here before then, but if not, thank you all again for reading. And now to leave you with an experience that brought to mind the phrase I have heard time and time again here - "This is Africa."
On the red dirt path that runs the course of the neighbourhood, sitting cross-legged, belly overhanging his elastic waistband, a little boy of no more than one or two years of age sits hunched over a knotted coil of metal, knawing the rust off it between his chubby cheeks.
I pass him, first amused at the sight, then stop and turn around shaking my head saying "No" and gesturing for him to remove the thick, infection- born wire from his mouth.
He pauses for a split second, eyes wide at what I have asked him to do, facial muscles taut with attention. Then in one crack of his thoughtful rigidity he throws back his head in a gut-busting laugh erupting his shirt up and over the his naked belly bulge.
He continues to laugh - as I walk away laughing myself - with a knowledge beyond mine, possibly to say, if he could yet form the words, "Hey, buddy, this is Africa."
Sending my warmest thoughts your way,
David