Mailing Address

I wanted to post my address in case anyone needs the information.

Packages can be sent through DHL to:

Heather Wind
World Education
1st Circular Road
H/No 11B
Cantonments
Accra
Ghana

Letters and packages can also be sent through regular mail to:

Heather Wind
World Education
P.M.B 12, Osu
Accra
Ghana

If anything requires a phone number or if anyone needs to call me:
The office phone number is: Country code (233) 21781889
My mobile phone number is: (233) 243767905
Just make sure to dial 011 for international calls.

A Great Week: Saturday and Sunday

Saturday: I did take one more shower in the morning, but it was hardly like it could relish it. Even in the high 80s, cold showers are pretty shocking. We headed out one last time from Mary’s home and down the windy, bumpy road to Accra. The Aburi Botanical Gardens are not far outside of Koforidua. Although they were nice, the looked pretty neglected. We couldn’t quite figure out where the paths were and Nadia mentioned that it looked like a few of the signs identifying plants had been moved. It was nice though just to walking around in an area that was free from exhaust. We saw a lot of interesting butterflies too. There was a bright yellow one with long wings and a black one with large white spots. It was impossible to photograph them, but it was reassuring to see nature alive and well in the neglected gardens. There were also some chickens walking around. I can’t really remember the last time I saw a live chicken in the US and they are everywhere here. I returned back to the hostel around 3 to find out that not only was the water still not running, but the tanks were completely empty. Also, my spare garbage can of water had mosquitoes in it when I opened the lid. I got the travel book out and started looking up alternatives to this hostel. There has to be something out there.

One of the tall trees in the Gardens



















Pretty purple flowering tree
















The bamboo bent over to create an awning















A windy stone staircase



















This is a huge tree with interesting root structures

Sunday: Here we are to today. Several hours of typing up my week. The coolest place I can find is the office which is still 88.5 degrees with the fan on. I may have to go out and get more ice cream.

A Great Week: Friday

Friday might have been my favorite day. More fried eggs in the morning, but I was starting to look forward to Milo each day. We headed over the community center to find out that the megaphone people had announced to the communities that all of the girls should come not just the ones who had not taken the survey two days ago. After sending about 10 girls back home, we were left with about 10 which did not bode well considering our $100 announcement. I was feeling discouraged especially because the language and culture barrier was really hindering my ability to help offer advice or suggestions. I really had to rely on other people to figure out the best solution and 10 people is not a good result. Nadia, Kwame and I left the staff and the few girls to meet with a local bank to help us design a group savings scheme for the girls. They man and the woman we met with were just as motivated about educating the girls on the importance of savings and keeping business profits separate from personal spending. The woman wanted to speak with the girls on our first orientation meeting, so we had one of the speakers now in place for February 26. They also said that the girls could keep their savings at this bank as long as we designed a system to collect the savings and their staff would not be responsible for that or for transporting it to the bank.

Our next step was to conduct a market feasibility survey. Somewhere along the line it was communicated to someone that I was an “expert” in market feasibility surveys. I really had no idea what it even was or is at this point, so I really was confused about why I suddenly became the expert. I really should not be considered an expert in anything here since it is all so new and different from anything I have ever experience. One thing though that I would say I am a pseudo-expert in is winging it with stuff like this. I asked Kwame to bring us to the largest market around and wrote up some questions that I thought we could ask several of the vendors. The key concern of mine was to make sure that these vocational skills we were providing to the girls would be viable. In no way did I want to set these girls up to fail or to have to supplement their income in other ways, which is what we were trying to prevent with this program. We spoke first with a soap maker, who had clearly been working at it for some time and was very happy to talk with us. The friendliness of the market women was striking. Despite how hard they all have to work, they couldn’t have been nicer and more open to talking about their work. She wore a great hat too! We heard about the process she uses and where she goes to get all of the ingredients. I later purchased some clothes detergent that is formed into a ball. At some point I am going to have to wash my clothes in the buckets.

We walked over to a “fast food” seller. This woman was preparing wassche (the rice and beans breakfast I mentioned in an earlier post). She had been making it for 20 years but had only moved to this location three years ago. She moved because she had gotten a divorce. My first reaction was how sad it is that after all that time in marriage it didn’t last, but then I realized that the divorce was probably the safest and best option for her and she probably had been thinking about divorce for a while. So, here she was making her food. We asked her how she differentiates her food from the others in the market, and she was very proud to tell us that once in a while she adds something extra to the ingredients to give her customers a little extra flavor. She also emphasized the importance of customer service and treating people of all ages equally well. I noticed that she had a variety of price points too – selling children small bags of rice and sauce for 10 cents and then most adults spend about $2 or $3 on a bag of the wassche. She said that some days she doesn’t make any money but other days are good, so you have to be very careful about how you spend your profits. She also informed us that the economy in the area had been in decline for a while and she used to work at the market for three days a week, but had recently reduced it just to Friday.

Our next survey subject was a gari (crushed grain) and dried maize retailer. Kwame knew her from his teaching days, so we were able to have a more candid conversation. She was able to make enough money during the market day not to have to work any other day during the week, but she did sell to people out of her home. Her booth was set up as a table that contained a large bag of the gari and an even larger bag of maize on the ground next to it. A wooden shed was open behind her where we sat to discuss the project. There were 6 foot tall bags of both of her products and she said that she had to travel about 40 km to purchase them, but she didn’t have to go every week. She said that what helped differentiate her business is that she also treated everyone equally and was especially pleasant to people who had to buy from her on credit (not credit cards, but promising to pay either in installments or in the future at some point). During our conversation, a coconut seller sold several to Kwame and we all ate them. The man used a machete to hack off the top of the coconut so we could drink the watery contents. It was certainly better than the canned coconut water I had tasted at Whole Foods. The coconut seller also used his machete to help pry off the coconut flesh so that I could eat. It tasted oddly like avocado, which is how I found out about the whole pear thing. It had a nice, creamy texture. I took a few pictures with the retailer and some girls got excited to get into the picture too. We walked around to look at the other products that were selling at the market. There were quite a few used clothes. I have heard, but have not confirmed that organizations like the Salvation Army actually bag the donated clothes and sell them in bulk to individuals who then sell them on the street. I do see a lot of used clothes and shoes for sale, and I don’t see or hear of places where people can go to get free clothes, so I am starting to believe that this is the process of clothes distribution. Along these lines, I saw a motorcyclist wearing an Eric Lindros hockey jersey the other day. Since Nadia had never heard of hockey, I am guessing that the jersey had made it to Africa through this process. We found one woman who was making a bleach-type project that was used for removing stains and disinfecting toilets and sinks. She was the only one selling this and she said that she sold out of her products everyday. Very interesting… oh, and the best part is that she uses old water bottles for the container, so she is recycling too. We were done with our market survey or at least as far as I could tell since I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to be doing.

Our last stop of the day was at a vocational training institute. It teaches girls cooking and sewing, similar to what we are planning, but the girls live there. Prior to entering the meeting place, I asked where the washroom was since I had been struggling for a while. They pointed in the direction and Nadia held my things. I opened the door and saw a cement floored room with nothing in it but a small drain at the far end. I opened the door back up and motioned for Nadia to come over. I told her that there was nothing in there, no toilets or anything. She said “yes, that is it.” I said, “Well how about that other room that says ‘toilets?’” She said it would look exactly the same. Huh. I stepped out for a moment to compose myself and weigh my options while Nadia went in to use the facilities. I felt stupid and snobby for not just going for it, in addition to being quite uncomfortable. When Nadia came out I decided just to go for it. It wasn’t bad, but it is a little weird that it all just drains outdoors somewhere. After I was done I wanted to ask Nadia what happens when someone needs to go #2, but I didn’t think the translation would work. So, I left it to my imagination.

The man at the vocational training institute was incredibly helpful. He offered his space to any of the girls who were interested in learning the skills for which they had equipment and also said that he would talk to his team about how they could provide trainers in other areas that may not be located at his place. We also talked about which skills are actually viable and how his former students are doing. Our program is somewhat hindered by the fact that the girls are getting only 3 to 6 months of training, so we have to find something they can learn that quickly which eliminates things like hairdressing and dressmaking which is what most girls want to learn. He said that girls can learn and earn a living doing parts of the dressmaking process, such as doing embroidery and making test patterns for dressmakers. He also mentioned the emergence of vegetarianism which certainly piqued my interest. We mentioned how we had heard about the possibility of teaching the girls mushroom farming and he confirmed that it is a growing field and that people are eating more mushroom fried rice instead of the beef fried rice. We came to the conclusion that we could create a whole mini-supply chain for some of the girls. With a few mushroom farming, a few processing the mushrooms and then a few preparing the mushroom fried rice. He also mentioned how they are looking to brand some of the products they make include a uniquely scented hair pomade and liquid soap. My CSR instincts kicked in and I thought of how their products could talk about how they are made at this school and each purchase helps to fund programs that train girls to become entrepreneurs. That would certainly differentiate it with a feel-good brand.

We returned to find the team at the office. Only 10 more girls had shown up so we were still well under our target of 250, but had enough to conduct quality quantitative research. We went back to Mary’s house to see her before she left for a funeral. She mentioned wanting to buy me a funeral dress so that I could accompany her to one on February 23^rd. She also gave Nadia beautiful sea green fabric for a new dress. We thanked her and decided to stay one more night because it was raining fairly hard. Our driver is pretty good, a little quick with the brake, but I was not the comfortable driving with him at night or through rain so that combo of the two on windy dark roads in an area that is literally closer to Timbuktu than I have ever been before all suggested that we should just stay. Plus, we could stop by a botanical garden on the way home. Nadia went to bed early. I finished my book and then took one of my last showers for a while.

A Great Week: Thursday

More fried eggs for breakfast, between suddenly introducing meat into my diet and the amount of eggs I am eating I am a little worried that I am going to end up like that guy on Supersize Me. We met a little later at the Red Cross office to debrief on the day before. I attempted to compliment the moderators on their energy throughout and their commitment to the project, but it was lost in translation and everyone thought I was talking about the mothers there. Oh well, they too deserved recognition. My feedback was that we should split the communities into two groups next time and have half of the girls come in the morning and half in the afternoon. We just don’t have enough staff for this kind of project. We also strategized on how to recruit more girls to the survey and the program overall. It was decided that at an announcement would go out Friday at dawn to tell the girls to come to a community center. There are two ways to get news and announcements out to people in these rural areas. One is through churches and town leaders who walk around from home to home to communicate the message and who tell people as they come to church. The other is to hire people who go around in a van with a megaphone at dawn and announce any messages. I asked Nadia if these teenage girls would be awake by then and she replied, “Oh yes. They all have to fetch water for the day for their homes.” I feel like I am getting good material to use when I am the parent of a lazy American teenager. We opted for the megaphone approach which cost $100. It is bizarre to me that something so arcane would be that pricey.

After the meeting, Barnard, Nadia and I went out to get fufu for lunch. We went to a little chop shop and I was told that I would have to eat with my hands. Luckily I had come prepared with my packet of Wet Ones hand wipes. We stood looking into the pots of meat and I was noticing some different option that I had not seen before. A dark clump of something was put onto one man’s fufu and I sort of assumed but had to ask Nadia. Sure enough, it was snail meat. She asked if I wanted to try it and I should have censored myself but the face automatically conveyed a look of shock and horror at the possibility. The other new option they had for me was grass cutter meat. I have been told that this animal looks like a large rodent or guinea pig. I ended up ordering fish with the fufu and spicy tomato broth. And I ate it with my hands, but of course chewed it. You can only venture so far from your comfort zone. It was pretty good though and the guy who was pounding the fufu (it is a combination of pounded cassava and plantain) wanted me to watch him and take some pictures. I know they say necessity is the mother of all invention, but it really amazes me how much work goes into the main staples of food in this country. Pounding fufu looked exhausting and one other person has to reach his hand in to turn the dough. A slight distraction on timing could easily result in a broken metacarpal.

The second part of the day saw me, Nadia, Kwame (the regional Director of the Red Cross) and two of his team members meeting with microfinance institutions in the Eastern Region. We wanted to find out what types of loans they had available for girls, if they would be willing to present information to the girls, and their overall opinions and advice for us. I have to say that this was a truly amazing and educational experience for me. All of the organization are locally staffed, essentially Ghanaians lending small amounts to other Ghanaians instead of international organizations driving the microfinance movement. I was starting to get a little cynical about development in Africa because foreign aid, despite the huge quantities, seems to be doing little good but Africans are not stepping up to improve their communities either. However, these organizations demonstrated an exception to this pattern and were able to speak frankly about the cultural challenges inhibiting development.

The first encouraging piece of information we heard is the emphasis on the girls being able to demonstrate an ability to save money, even a small amount over a period of time. The microfinance organizations want to reduce the “dependence syndrome” which sees too many looking for an easy handout and making excuses for why they can’t move forward. These problems are not unique to Ghana, but the pervasiveness here really stunts the growth of the economy for more so than it does in the US. We had included a section on saving money in the questionnaire and realized now that it had to be an essential component of the training. Another problem we heard about from these microfinance organizations is the consistent pattern of people gaining capital from their business on spending it on material goods not essential to the business. We heard about one man who used all of his profits to buy a BMW and then when he came back to get another loan and the loan officer turned him down, the man accused him of being jealous of his new car. Materialism is certainly not unique to Ghana but it is difficult to hear about how women will skip their babies’ doctors appointments because they can’t afford a new outfit and how there is no money left for food when a week’s salary was spent on a new funeral outfit. All of the Ghanaians agreed that the public needs to be disabused of its perception that material goods are a higher priority than basic goods like food for their kids. It was also very validating to hear that the organizations agreed with the number of people we are targeting for the vocation skills training. All 250 will receive HIV educations and hear presentations from a variety of people in the community, but only 40 will receive training in a specific skill such as cooking and weaving. The microfinance specialists agreed that it was important to start small and focus on getting the 40 girls up and running in a microbusiness before attempting to expand it out to the rest of the girls.

The night was dominated by Ghana’s Black Stars facing Cameroon’s Lions in the semi-finals. Again, as I had mentioned before everyone was wearing their Ghana gear and even one of the men we met with at a microfinance organization had a very silly fuzzy hat on in the pattern of Ghana’s flag. People were nervous. Cameroon was known for having a very good soccer team and always dominating in the Africa Cup. Also, one of the best players of the Black Stars had received a red card in the previous game and could not play in this one and their captain was injured. It was fun getting to watch it with a few locals. Nadia and Mary were screaming at the TV and falling on the floor at different times. Bernard refused to watch fearing that his hypertension would be severely worsened by watching the game live. Sadly, Cameroon scored late in the game and Ghana was never able to capitalize on its few chances. The newscasters were so dramatic. There were comments such as “the hope of a nation has been crushed,” “an entire has been silenced by one goal,” and “the nation of Ghana is devastated.” All of the players were weeping at the end and the newspeople described them as “inconsolable.” The most surprising moment of the game for me came when one of Cameroon’s players was injured on the field. The Red Cross staff were on the field attempting to help him when one of the other soccer players from Cameroon ran up to a Red Cross medic and pushed him to the ground. He was tossed and rolled for a bit. It was very bizarre. I have never seen anything like it and couldn’t imagine why a team member would want to harm the people who are helping his teammate. Perhaps steroids aren’t only a problem in baseball.

A Great Week: Wednesday

I awoke early because we were to arrive at the Red Cross’s office by 8 that morning. Nadia made a breakfast of fried eggs and sausage and showed me how she cuts vegetables in her hand – no cutting board, just in your palm. I also had Milo for the first time, which is Nestles version of hot chocolate. Nestle has quite the monopoly on dairy products here. The hot chocolate was delicious, but difficult to drink in 80 degree weather. The Red Cross office consisted of a single room with a large table that took up the majority of the space and two small desks at the far side of the room. There was very little open space in the office and you had to slide from chair to chair to move about. The goal of the meeting was to go through the questionnaire question by question to discuss the proper translation of it and the answer choices and to make sure everyone was on the same page for what they would tell the girls. I thought it would take 45 minutes at the most, but ended up taking over two hours. Finally, we finished and had to head out to the school where all of the girls were to meet.

We arrived to find approximately 60 girls there on time. The program is expecting to train 250 girls, so it was very discouraging to only see 60. By the end of the day though, a total of 132 had taken the survey at varying time. Let me back up though, we gave introductions and explained what was taking place today. It took an hour and 15 minutes just to register everyone and get them to sign consent forms. The lack of literacy makes everything take much longer. For girls who can’t sign their name at all, we have to use ink pads so they can stamp their thumbprints. Many did not have phones either, so we had to get house numbers to be able to contact them in the future. I started getting nervous that if something as simple as registering took this long, how long was the survey going to take. Well, we started the survey at 2 and ended at 6. Four hours for an eight page survey in a school with little air circulation. Many of the girls had babies and toddlers and I was truly amazed at the patience of these little ones. Really, I was amazed by the perseverance of the girls and the moderators as well. We had divided the girls up between those who could read and write and those who could not, but really when it came to writing sentences they all needed help. There were about 2 moderators for 20 girls and we could have used twice as many moderators. We were lucky that all 250 didn’t come because it would have taken twice as long. Everyone stuck it out though and seemed to be able keep up their interest in the survey questions during the long four hours. At the end, the girls were all given a small stipend for transportation costs to the school and were given packets of drinking water.

Mary invited us all out to join her friends at a bar for dinner and a few drinks. I couldn’t wait. It was my first time going out with people to a bar and I would be with all Ghanaians, so I would get the local experience. There were about 15 people around the table outside of the open-air bar, lights in the distance and highlife music playing in the background. I ordered a Club beer and Mary took out some friend chicken and onions prepared by ones of her friends. Nadia and I ran to the bathroom where I was hoping to be able to wash my hands before touching the chicken. There was no light and no actual seat for the toilet. How I miss the California toilet seat cover law! I used my handy little blue flashlight, but of course was totally out of luck with washing my hands since there was no running water in the bathroom. I would just not touch any of the food. As soon as I picked up the chicken leg though I realized this would be difficult. I am just a bad meat eater. When I am faced with having to eat meat, I pick it apart to ensure that the only pieces that go into my mouth are perfect tiny pieces of white meat. This is not easy to do with no utensils and very little light. I noticed the others were eating everything down to the bone. How do they do that? The one saving grace is that it was so dark that they could not see me discard the fried pieces of skin onto the ground. I managed to eat a few and tried to eat as many onions as possible and then Mary called me up to dance. She had wanted me to dance all day with her, even at the school. So, just a quick side note… it has been difficult for me to get used to the loud volume of everything. Mobile phones go off all the time and not at normal volumes, they are all on loud and they all are unique songs not ring tones, so when a phone is ringing there is no break from the sound until someone decides to finally answer. Similarly, there are often radios or TVs on during meetings and a few of the Red Cross staff wanted to play music while the girls were trying to take the survey. This has been especially difficult for me because the accent is so difficult for me to understand that they may as well be speaking another language, especially when you add the noise of a radio announcer speaking Twi. OK, so back to the dancing. Mary had me show her some of my fantastic moves at the school, which I have really just one or two and then insisted that I do more dancing at the bar. The music wasn’t bad to dance to; it was no hip-hop, but it was sort of an 80s version of hip-hop. They have something called hip-life here which combines the “poppy” highlife with hip-hop. We all danced and Nadia joined us too. It was fun. Mary kept saying “Heather, get low” which meant that she wanted me to slowly bend my knees and wave my arms. For those of you who know him, I felt like I was dancing like Joel. They loved it though and I was told that I dance like a Ghanaian – which is hard for me to believe, but it is nice that I have found out who I dance like. At night, I introduced Nadia to the show Aliens in America, which I am able to download on iTunes also. I was a little nervous about the themes presented in the show and really emphasized that all Americans are not like these people. She loved it and thought it was hilarious – I wonder if we found the same things funny.

A Great Week: Tuesday

This past week I was in the Eastern Region, where the Girls 1^st project is taking place. The two things that needed to be accomplished were to administer a survey asking about HIV knowledge and familiarity with saving money and managing a business as well as conducting a market feasibility survey. Bernard, Nadia and I headed out to Koforidua again after finalizing the survey with the Boston team on Tuesday afternoon. One thing that complicated this process is that the questionnaire was written in English, but needed to be translated into the local language. Most of the girls are illiterate, so it would have to be read to them, but the local language of Twi is not really a written language either. I suggested that we type it out in Twi, but was told that most people do not know how to read or write in Twi or that it is uncommon and would not be helpful to assuring that the questionnaire would consistently be translated to the girls.

Tuesday night: Mary, Mike’s newest fan and one of the Red Cross staff generously invited us to stay at her home for the duration of our trip. It was a beautiful home surrounded by a high spiked fence and protected by a policeman outside and two little dogs, Bruno and Rocky, on the inside. I was shown to my room with its private bathroom and running water!! There was still no running hot water, but hey, I would finally be able to get all of the shampoo out of my hair. We headed out to eat and I had my first beer since early January. They have two local beers here Star and Club and they are typically served in large bottles with small glasses to pour the beer into. The way recycling works here is that stores and restaurants send the bottles directly to the manufacturer to be used again. I don’t believe they break them down like we do based on the slight flaws in the appearance of the bottles. You are not able to remove glass bottles from stores and must drink them there. The beer was pretty good. It reminded me of a light version of Becks. We returned to the house and I got to shower before hopping onto my very firm mattress. I read Michael Crichton’s Airframe that I had found at a bookstore here during my week in the Eastern Region and am not sure if I feel better about flying or am more nervous now.

Hilda’s Birthday

The birthday weekend overall was nice; mellow for the most part except for my excursion to the Art Center. Friday, the day of was also Tawiah’s birthday, so the whole office went out to a Chinese restaurant. I think I actually like Ghanaian Chinese food better than American. It is less sauce laden and has more vegetables, in particular onions. We also had ice cream for dessert, but not green tea ice cream just chocolate and vanilla. Ice cream is my new favorite thing here since it goes so well with the heat. The street vendors sell it in plastic packets which are called Fan Ice. We ate so much at lunch that for dinner I decided to treat myself to Special K which costs $9 here. My birthday evening was thus spent eating cereal and watching Superbad which I had rented on iTunes. It wasn’t bad, but I look forward to really celebrating when I return.

The next day I headed to the Art Center which was described as a collection of art and artifact dealers all clustered together. I was told that it would be best for me to go with a local to bargain for better prices, so I figured I would just look around and see what they had. On the plus side the variety of goods was excellent and everything seemed of a higher quality than I have seen in similar markets. There were giant masks from the Ashanti tribe, ornate wooden stools and footrests, colorful fabrics and watercolor paintings, and I even found a dealer who sells antique teeth from lions and kangaroo bones. I can’t imagine what people would use the latter for, but he had been there for a while so there must be a market. The down side of the market is the aggressiveness of the vendors. I was inundated with vendors yelling “sister come this way,” “friend, I want to show you something,” “free to look,” “just look for a minute” and everyone wanted to shake my hand and know my name. This is where the Hilda part comes in… Heather is very difficult to say in most languages outside of English. I was Hedder and Etter in Italy and now I am Hilda here in Ghana. I say my name several times and there are looks are complete confusion until they finally exclaim “Oh, Hilda!” Apparently most have never heard the name Heather, but somehow they have been exposed to Hilda (old American movies maybe?).

I didn’t buy anything at the market and was actually a little worried about entering the little booths the vendors displayed their goods in for fear of never exiting, but I look forward to returning with a local so that I can purchase some souvenirs. From there, I overpaid for a taxi to bring me to the Chinese designed National Theater to see if there was a show playing. As I have mentioned before, it is very difficult to find out schedules of things. The National Theater was completely deserted, but it was nice to walk around in peace for a few minutes. The Saturday night birthday dinner was a step up from Special K. I went to a restaurant that NPR mentioned recently and was described as “African food Bon Appetit would love.” Buka is in the touristy Osu neighborhood and it is second story open air restaurant. It would be the ideal spot if it overlooked the ocean, but the palm trees surrounding it made me feel like I was in a tropical setting. The furniture was all bamboo too with cushions which just added to the atmosphere. I had some sort of collard green stem atop white rice and the best fish I have had here. All of the fish is served with bones, which has been difficult for a picky eater like me to negotiate. This fish was not too bad bone-wise and it was delicious with my accompanying fresh pineapple juice. Speaking of fruit, I found out that they call avocados pears here and that oranges are the color green here. When I asked Bernard if he was confused by the name and wondered why oranges in Africa were called orange since they were in fact the color green, it had not occurred to him. It is funny how outside perspectives bring attention to things one would never think to question. One of my favorite parts of the birthday weekend was when the security person from Buka walked me to a spot to get a cab. I paid a fraction of what I normally pay for a cab in this area and realized how much more affordable taxis are for locals than for foreigners.

It is hard to believe, but it is actually hotter these days than when I first arrived. Weather.com consistently says that it is in the mid 80s here but that it feels like low 90s with high humidity. My alarm clock thermometer consistently reads 84 at night when I am trying to sleep. It is pretty brutal trying to sleep in those temperatures, which is why I felt little guilt going back to the Alisa pool on Sunday. It is my new favorite place. With the sun setting at about 6:15 here, I stayed for a few hours and then walked back to get on the internet again to talk to Mike and my mom on Skype.

I haven’t talked much about the Africa Cup of Nations soccer tournament, which is like the World Cup but just in Africa. Ghana is hosting it, so the whole country is going wild for Ghana’s soccer team (of course they call it football, which made it very confusing when I was trying to find a place to watch the Superbowl and kept having to say “American football”). I think Boston does a good job of demonstrating its support for the local teams, but it is nothing like what they do here. First of all, everyone is wearing at least something related to the team, whether it is a scarf, a pin, or a t-shirt. I have also seen women wearing dresses made of the colors of the team with the team’s logo in the pattern. Business people and news anchors are all showing their support of the team too with t-shirts on instead of the usual suits. Ghana was playing in the quarterfinals against Nigeria, their archrival. There was tension throughout the country the entire day and all TV sets were turned to the game on Sunday night. As I was walking around, you could see that people had gathered together at markets that had TVs and neighbors were standing and watching together outside to get better reception. Everyone was watching this game. Nigeria scored first early on with a penalty kick and then Ghana tied it up later in the game. As I was walking back from the office, Ghana scored the go-ahead goal and it was like the entire country erupted in cheer. I could hear the chorus of celebration from the stadium at least a mile away, but could also hear women screaming and men yelling “Goal.” It was intense and lasted for a while. I don’t quite understand the pleasure of watching soccer. It takes so long to see a goal and it is not unheard of to go the entire 90 minutes without seeing a score. Hearing the celebration though, it kind of made sense to me. You sit on the edge of your seat for an interminable amount of time and then the degree of joy of seeing that goal is so intense that it makes the majority of time all worth it. Mike often tells me that sports are not just a game. And thinking about all of the troubles in Africa right now with Chad and Kenya adding to the countries on the verge of civil war and contrasting that with the way Ghana was universally united behind their underdog team, it made me realize that sports really do have the potential to be much more than just a game.