Arch-Nemesis

Quick little update for you all this evening.  Malaria still sucks, but at this point it’s probably just a waiting game. 

I’m just going to take a little bit of time to share a thought with you all that has been on the forefront of my mind for a long time. Mom and dad have been encouraging me to share these thoughts for a while, and I thought now might be a good time.  

I wanted to dedicate this post to my African arch-nemesis: ants.

            I never really had developed strong feelings towards ants until I got here. Almost immediately I was forced to rapidly take a stance on the small insect that seem to crawl out of everything.  I mean everywhere, popping up at inopportune times like so many other unwanted entities of this world, like the person you sat next to on the bus who really does intend to talk to you about the color of your aura.  At first, it was just annoying.  My host mom wouldn’t let me lean on the wall because there are ants, and they would crawl on your skin feeling like a bad acid trip.  They also bite, as they are like sugar ants, but red and sent directly from hell.  Then I started finding them in my room.  Once they make an advance into your personal space, just like the nutter on the bus, it is time to put your food down.  Literally. 

 I began committing ant massacres on a daily basis, taking my slipper off and squishing the whole sickening line of them as they weave their way across my wall/floor/desk.  I got some ant repellant from my host mom, which kept them out of my books (why?… why do you want to get inside my books?), but then it got serious.  They got into my peanut butter.  Words were exchanged.  Then they ate a hole through a freezer zip lock to eat my wheat thins, decided they liked my socks and underwear enough to eat a hole through my wall (Yes.  My wall), and they got into my mail.  Ironically deciding to jam themselves into a package containing chocolate, and ant killer (thanks mom!)  I actually cannot express the anger bubbling up as I set the bag of chocolates on the ground and repeatedly stomped the stuffing out of it.  When I see the layer of ants marching across my wall and down onto my floor after choosing the most appropriate language to use, I realize that they all must die.  And now. 

            It officially got serious just a few days ago when I sat down to write an email and realized that they had taken up camp inside the vent of my computer.  They were crawling out from beneath the keys, and all over my bed and lap.  I was so angry. I was angry enough that I was trying to think of how I could make my computer overheat to bake them inside of it, but then realized that would cause some damage I wasn’t willing to incur.  Eventually I sat patiently and waited as each one made a run for it.  I then I squished it with a single vindictive finger.  It took me more than 20 minutes until they were all dead, but it was worth it.

I will not miss you ants.

Malaria PART II

Hey everybody,

Just a quick update to say howdy and let you guys know what has been going down lately.  Malaria.  It hasn’t been particularly fun/as straightforward as originally thought.

            I likely have the strain called P. Falciparum, which is the quick onset kind, and isn’t exactly the good type.   However, the original treatment I received last Friday should have done the trick.  It seems as though I am suffering from the rare, but serious dumbass-resistant form of Malaria.  Evidently, when they tell you to rest when you have malaria, it’s not just a suggestion. 

I got bored around Tuesday and decided to go in to work, and again for a little while on Wednesday.  By Wednesday afternoon I was starting to realize something was really wrong, and after contacting my program, was advised to seek medical attention. 

I won’t sugar coat this for you guys, I was starting to get scared.  As Murphy’s Law would necessitate, all of my friends were out of town, and everyone at my program was otherwise occupied, so I got to do it all alone.  They decided to give me the really heavy-duty emergency injections, and an IV again.  I’ll just say that the drugs significantly lowered my capacity to interact with my surroundings and to deal with my situation.  There were tears.  There will be no pictures posted of this particular visit. 

 It was scary.  It was the first time since I’ve been here that I seriously considered going home.  Confronting the fact that even in one of the best clinics in one of the bigger towns, I might not be able to receive the medical attention I needed was overwhelming.  The doctor simply hadn’t come into work that day, and while the nursing staff was very nice, I couldn’t help but feel like it made the whole situation a more stressful.  The very nice nurse (Matilda) explained (in so many words) that I’d been a dumbass and hadn’t rested enough, not just making it harder to get better, but in fact making it significantly worse.  Pat on the back Lily, way to use your head. 

It is now Friday, and yesterday I was moved to the Proworld house until I am done with my multitude of drugs as they were making the stairs in my house impossible (and thus the bathroom/kitchen/help inaccessible).  I am feeling a little better and, given my heavily druggy state, I really can’t do anything to really overexert myself. 

I should be well soon, and I know I’ve worried quite a few of you on my most recent adventure here in Ghana.  I promise I’ll try for less potentially life-threatening adventures in the future. 

I will take a moment here to point out that I have the best sister/friend in the whole world.  She has been as close to by my side as someone a couple thousand miles away can be; keeping calm, telling me to get my butt to the clinic, making me laugh, updating people at home, and generally being an amazing human being.  You rock, sister-o-mine.  I love you.  Plus thanks for helping figure out the notifications on my blog.  :)

Malaria sucks, y'all

Well howdy folks.  As many of you know by now, I’ve had a little bit of an adventure the last couple of days.  It all started Friday during my bucket shower when I was feeling a little woozy.  I thought to myself “put on your big girl panties, Lily” and continued with my morning until while sitting eating my breakfast I got unreasonably emotional and began feeling a little disoriented.  After bursting into tears in the hallway, my host mom made me call in late to work. I lay down for a little while and consulted my trusty Bradt guild, which informed me that the sudden onset of nausea, and the headache, dizziness, and disorientation meant (bum bum buuuum) that I should go to the doctor immediately.

 I was picked up by Brooke, one of the wonderful proworld staffers, who gently rushed me to the clinic.  After seeing the doctor who proclaimed that he was 99% sure I had malaria, I had the test run anyways, and after only about a 2 hour wait (where I slept curled up in what seemed to be old theater seats outside of the laboratory with the one eyed lab tech with about 30 other people) I got my newest Ghana souvenir of the little sheet officially saying I had got the bug.

 I thought to myself “this isn’t so bad.  You’ve been sick before” and the doctor even mentioned that I was looking pretty strong for having “severe malaria”.  He asked if I’d barfed yet, I said no and he laughed heartily and responded with “not yet!”

I do have to say however that in the clinic the service that I received was exemplary, and although I know much of that had to do with the color of my skin, that’s one form of racism I’m just not ready to complain about. They did, however, read my passport wrong and thus I was called by my middle name, Katherine, all day.  It’s also written on all of my paperwork.  Honestly, I just really didn’t care. 

They decided that the emergency intervention was the best idea because of the impending barf-iness of the situation, and due to the amount of the parasite in my blood sample.  "Over reaction", I thought at the time. But then (faint of heart, look away) I got to have a shot in my bum, and was hooked up to a slow drip IV.  Suddenly, BAM!  I felt like utter shit.  Turning over in my clinic cot was struggle city.  But, my lovely friends and host family came to visit, and then about 4 hours later to take me home. 

I may have mentioned the 5 flights of stairs to get to my house here.  And by five flights of stairs I mean the hugest, most daunting feat of sheer athletic prowess I’ve ever completed.  It took like 20 min, and my dear Margarita’s support to make it all the way to my room. 

So here I am.  I’ve been basically stuck in my upstairs room since then.  I had the panic moment later that night when I realized my muscles were seizing, and my fever was rapidly spiking.  I was comforted with the news that “it will just get worse before it gets better”.  The meds are half the bad part honestly, and make you want to barf and crawl into a tiny ball.  A feeling you must fight in order to keep the drugs in your system.  

My host mom was quickly back to trying to feed my too much, and has been very supportive, even if she is convinced its all “just the change of environment’.  “Nooooo… I think to myself, I think it’s that whole pesky parasitic-mosquito-thing”.  I do have to admit that the idea of a fresh salad for dinner that night was appealing until I was muscling my way through a raw onion, green onion, tomato, and cabbage salad.  But I digress. 

For anyone who wants to ask: Yes, I sleep under a net every night.  Yes, I have diligently taken my meds every day; I must have gotten the resistant strain.  Yes, I wear bug repellant every single day.  Shit happens folks.  Luckily, I’m starting to feel better, and have the energy to be bored already.  TO THE NEXT ADVENTURE!!

*this is a later update made a couple of days after writing this – Malaria sucks everybody.  Malaria sucks real bad.  Its been a miserable up and down where when I wrote this I was feeling pretty alright, the next day I was feeling like death, the next day I was feeling alright, and then today, I made it to work and now I’m kinda stuck here because I really honestly don’t have the energy to get home.  So… malaria sucks.  That’s just the truth. 

What I told everyone it felt like to have malaria:

 What it actually feels like to have malaria: 

OHMYGODHURRY! INTERNET GOOD ENOUGH FOR PHOTOS!

This is a support group meeting in THLD district.  Thats my supervisor from HFFG with the camera.  

This is my host brother Jude!  Sometimes I think he likes me.  

My host mom making fufu, which I attempted to explain already. 

Ohhhhhhh the beach.  The wonderful beach.  

This is me (duh) Chantal, and Margarita, my two BFFS from my program 

This is the view from the meeting room in, I believe, the THLD district health assembly? Maybe?

See that island?  Its mine.  You are welcome to visit.  But its still mine.  

Balancing things on your head seems to be a natural Ghanaian talent.  I saw a woman texting while carrying a huge bucket full of water with no hands and climbing stairs this morning.  Baller.  

Fufu. The other white meat.

Hello dear blog followers! 

It’s been too long (again…) since I’ve updated my blog, which I apologize for if you are depending on this for updates. 

So the past week and a half or so has been pretty good.  I believe that first off, however, it is time to do the much anticipated work update. So as a few of you know, I am actually in the process of moving to a new NGO.  I’ll be in the same city so no need to move or anything like that.  The NGO that I was working for is a relatively large one and is staffed by some of the most well educated and motivated people I’ve meet in Ghana.  That being said, after a month of observing I was noticing that there was little room for improvement from one little white girl from the US.  So when my own project offered the opportunity to begin working with a newer/smaller NGO that needs some serious foot work I agreed to change (anyone out there thinking of teasing me because I don’t know how to relax, can it.  I already know that. :) Thanks.).  I will simply say that there was “a little” backlash when I told them I was leaving and after multiple somewhat confrontational meeting with the higher ups I think (hope) that I left without stepping on any toes.  I will say that this was one of my first brushes with the bluntness of some Ghanaians.  Asking “why are you giving up?” to someone who is going to a new job would be shockingly inappropriate in the states and I will admit that even though I understand the cultural difference, I still bristled at it.  All three times.  But I’ve agreed to come back as often as my schedule can manage as a kind of contractor to help with a couple of projects I helped to start. So tomorrow (that’d be Monday as I’m writing this, but we’ll see when I actually post this.) is my first day at my new project working doing health outreach to youth through sports.  I don’t think I’ll have much to do with the actual sports aspect, but they need some big time help with organization, curriculum development, funding, and all that.  I’m trying to stay positive about the new situation, and I am expecting good things.  (Later update!  The job went really well today! They have about a million bajillion things they want me to do, but I'm very excited.  I was even attacked by children today!  My new coworker had to pull me out of the pile by my arm.  I wanted a shower almost immediately, but it definitely made me smile!) 

So what’s new, what’s new?  Here are some thoughts. 

I went for a short outing today to my project office and decided to keep track of the people who yelled at me on the street.  23 people yelled at me, mostly men and children (WHAT A COINCIDENCE.), two people offered me rides in their private cars (Ohhhhhhellno.), had 2 little boys walk and talk with me for a while, and 3 people asked for money. 

I’ve been to the beach two weekends in a row.  I believe I could swim in warm water, sit in the sun, and eat fruit for lunch every single day for the rest of my life and die a happy person.  Ok, I’d probably get bored and make myself overly busy somehow, but seriously everyone.  Swimming in the ocean is awesome.  Really, really awesome.  Also, the last time we went to the beach some extremely friendly South African gold miners paid for everything all day after we talked to them for a little while.  Not a bad deal.  A little odd.  But still not a bad deal. 

I ate my host mom’s fufu for the first time today.  It was such a momentous occasion that Uncle Archer, Auntie Doris’ best friend, actually took my picture eating it.   Fufu (for those of you who think that fufu sounds more like a name for a small dog) is kasava root and plantains pounded with a stick until (as far as I can tell) the starch breaks down.  This process produces a food with an indescribable texture that one is supposed to eat with the hands, and you are instructed not to swallow.  I will compare it to… powdered mashed potatoes that have been cooked for too long and can now be rolled into a very sticky, yet kind of elastic ball.  That’s the best I can do.  Auntie Doris promptly forced a large glass of red wine on me just before I was about to leave the house.  Anyone who has ever had red wine with me knows that I turn a striking bright pink when I drink it, the perfect shade for going out in public.  Honestly, sometimes it is hard to be this attractive all the time.  It’s a burden.

Auntie Doris also said something to me today that made me feel really good.  She said she was going to miss me when I am gone.  Today marks my official 1-month from leaving home, although you’ll have to give it another two days before my arrival in Ghana anniversary.  I woke up missing everyone so badly, just wishing for a lazy day in my pj’s in front of the fire, and wanting a hug (there is a SERIOUS lack of hugs here).  But after a little food, kind words from Auntie Doris, and the realization that I’m actually making friends here, I started to feel a little better.  I can now sing along with the popular songs, give directions on the street, speak a little (a VERY little) bit of fante, hail a cab like a boss, recognize the signs of rain, sleep through my neighbors slaughtering a goat, joke around with my family, and eat soup without utensils.  It feels like a world away today, but I think I’ll be making it through the next two months.