The World Keeps on Turning

Recently, I have received numerous emails from varied parts of the globe about the tumultuous events taking place in both my family and my friends' lives. My heart is continuously dropped into new rhythm and pace at the thought of this earth turning in so many different ways, for different people, in different places.
But, I believe in the power of thought and prayer and how it is able to bridge all of these gaps we believe to be so achingly far between. I am thinking and praying for you all and if you want to sit in a moment of quiet contemplation away from the haze of chaos that can surround us at any given moment in time, I am sure you will feel the love I, and many others are sending you.
All of these turbulent and emotional events that I have read about on the glaring screen of an all too unemotive computer have shifted the tone of the blog that I am about to embark on this afternoon. Rather than speak of larger events and ceremonies and of the many customs and traditions of the Ashanti people, I will instead give a few snapshots into what village life is like here in the small community of Ejura - what life is...

All at once the lights burn to black and we are shrouded in darkness sitting on wooden benches of the conrete porch of Namascar House. The five of us volunteers give a groan of despair at the countless number the blackouts have reached when our cries are fast over ridden by the voices of the eight school boys, housed here at Namascar, and their accusingly defiant calls of "Teef! Teef!" - which, loosely translated into english, is "Theif! Thief!"
They have caught a boy in the act of robbery - 2, 000 cedis was the amount stolen; converted into canadian currency, it roughly amounts to 20 cents.
The eight boys and a number of other young villagers take up arms with tree branches and chase the accused boy admist their warrior cries for the prevailment of justice.
When the accused reaches his home, he promptly shuts the door, leaving the Justice League stunned and consequently, out of work.

Every Monday there is a large market in Ejura set up on a wide spanning lot of dirt. Mostly, the market is composed of vendours selling cheap Chinese imports, locally grown vegetables and spices and beautifully bright coloured African textiles.
Upon entering the market for the first time last Monday, my first vision of it was a medicinal man standing slightly to the right of the entrance gate. He had a chart hanging from his umbrella with crude sketches of different medical conditions: a man keeled over vomitting in splashes on the ground, a man squatting down excreting burning diahrea and a man with his pants down passing bloody urine were a few of the images he claimed to have a cure for. The various cures were sitting in mangy, previously used soda bottles, each one a slightly varying colour from the first bottle of blackening green sludge I layed my eyes upon.
And maybe, just maybe, they all looked the same because what I ignorantly couldn't discern from the Twi explanations below the cartoon illustrations of medical conditions, was that they were all the same - a cure-all for any ailment you're likely to receive in Ghana.

A countless number of times now, I have been truly touched by the honesty, generosity and welcoming nature of the Ghanian people here in the Ashanti region.
A few days ago I got lost on my way home from town. Bumbling my way through open air kitchens, showers and gardens along a twisting, branching dirt pathway I sheepishly asked a boy of twelve years old to lead me back to Namascar House. He complied but not before asking his mother. When she gave him permission, he slung his baby sister over his back and toted his friend along for the walk back to my dwelling.
On the way he enlightened me on the way in which Ghanians make their brooms: spines of palm nut tree leaves are stripped of their green flesh and tied together in bunches - and on the way in which they make their fans to keep the coals of their kitchen fires burning: by weaving together the leaves of a coconut tree.
After my educations was complete for the journey home, he dropped me off at Namascar and now visits me everyday to say "hello." He'll sit with me, sometimes hours at a time, mostly quiet, content to be in my company as I am in his.

What a wonderful place to be.

My internet time has run out for today so I'll have to update you on the challenges of the education system here next time.
Thanks for reading and know that I am thinking of you all and wishing you nothing but love, health and happiness.
David