Orphanage compound

 

I think this may be the sleeping quarters.

 

This building had four rooms. One served as the preschool. One served as some sort of office with supplies, I think some of the kids slept here too. This was the only building with doors. 

 

Top floor of the school. I know, where are the safety inspectors when you need them. 

 

I think this is the wash room for laundry and maybe baths? The school is in the background.

football or futeball

 

 

 

 

Bubbles in Africa

See my little guy with the green bowl...that's my shadow.

P.S. look at that future hall of famer about 2 feet off the ground.

Here is my two little boys that I wanted to keep for my own. They are in front of the boy in the blue shirt.

The happiness just shines out of them!

Okay, so sweet Tammy had packed us a lunch to eat during our mid day break. I had lost track of time because I was enjoying these beautiful faces too much. Finally, Tammy convinced me to come sit in the car and eat my food. I put the bubbles away and started walking to the car but all the children started pulling on me and telling me not to leave. I had to convince them that I was not leaving, only eating my food and that I would get back out when I was finished. Once I got in the car all the children crowded around and and smashed their little faces and there "I love you" hands on the window. So think about how I felt, here I am knowing that these children don't even know what it feels like to have full belly, staring at me while Tammy hands me a sandwich. It was a little hard to have an appetite. I could hear Josephs voice telling the children to get away from the car so we could eat and they slowly dipursed...but two. My little guy and his older brother stayed next to the car and leaned against the brick wall of Josephs house. Every so often he would look up at me, wave and flash his electric grin. I love that smile. It makes my heart giggle. We sat in the car and talked about our day so far. Every so often I would look up an expect that little boy to be gone, off running with the other kids But no, there he was, another wave and smile. Another young boy showed up and tried to get the older brother to come and play. The older brother tried to get the younger one to come along but he wouldn't so they both left him behind to stand at this car and wait. Wait for what? I was not exactly sure.
When Ryan is done with his sandwhich I gave up on nibbling at mine. Ryan opened his car door and at that moment I knew what that little man was waiting for. ME! He ran to my door and threw it open, practically jumping on me. I was so content and in love at that moment. He is the sweetest ball of chocolate I have ever met!
He holds my hand tightly as I walk through the yard of half finished brick structures to my classroom. The kids are already in ther seats and are so excited when I come back in . My little shadow squeezes in between two girls sharing the front desk.

I am more relaxed and feel at home. I decide to try playing some reading games. I write an "A" on the board and ask "Tell me what starts with "A"". I am waiting for the american answer "Apple". "Angel", "Abraham", and lots of other bible words get thrown out at me. It is strange to me because we can't mix religon and school in america but that is all these kids know. I begin to wonder if they even know what an apple is. We go through the whole alphabet in this same manner. I think they named every old phrophet in the bible. Some of the children are named after people in the bible and this was a great cause of celebration when I got to their letter. Kathy Westerby came to check on me and see how I has doing. She spotted the tiny boy sitting in his comfortable spot.
"You are in the wrong place, you better come with me to the preschool."
I wanted to plead with her to leave him but she took his hand and walked away. I watched him as the left already missing his incredable smile. Then he turns around and smiles at me once more except this time there is this mischievious look in his eyes which said
"I got away with that for so long."
He was the cutest little sluffer I ever saw!

African classroom

 

 

 

 

Orphanage pics

Yes, can you believe I am married to that beautiful white man!

I think Kathy was explaining that pink princess underwear is for girls and red superman underwear is for boys...but really...it does not matter. If the girls like superman...go for it.

The Treasures of Africa

Orphanage pics

Mademoiselle Aimee teaching with application...Appliwhat?

Honestly, can they get any more beautiful!

This is the lower level of the school building.

One day in Heaven ( April 16, 2009)

Alright. I know that a mother should say that the day I had each one of my kids was the best day of my life but lets be honest here. That hurt like H-E- double hockey sticks. So that pulls the rug out from letting it be the best day of my life. But imagine if you will a day were you get to fall head over heels in love with 60 kids (they way you are head over heels in love with your own) and ...tada..without pain. Yes, it was one of the best days of my life.
I wanted to go and spend sometime in an African orphanage. It was of the only things I knew I had to do if I went. After being there for a few days it was looking as if I was not going to be able to and that depressed me. The orphanage we thought we would go to had a new director and she did not like American volunteers or something so it was a no go. Finally Kathy ( a retired school teacher who's husband was serving as a lawyer for the church) called us. She had been using her spare time to help the orphanages, which doubled as schools, with their reading and writing. She was going out to on e tomorrow and we were welcomed to come if we wanted. I was so happy. The next morning Ryan woke up early with the African gombu -I think I ate some bad typhoid - issues. It was not looking good until I remember that I filled that expensive Travelers diarrhea medication. (Note to the wise...don’t skimp on these pills if you are going to Africa the work fast and the proof is solid...tee hee) So everything was looking rosy again and we left.
I was nervous for few things. First off, I tied my hair up in a scarf because, for those of you who do not know me...I am scared to death of lice. Scared to death, have nightmares, flip the light on at 2 in the morning, Ryan check my hair scared. Second, No diapers in Africa so if I am holding a kid who pees...you get the picture. Third, and most overwhelming, Am I going to be so overwhelmed with sadness that I can’t pull it together.
As we drove to the orphanage Kathy and I figured out hat her grand daughter Katherine H. was in the same kindergarten class as my Belle. Small world. She asked us which age group we wanted to work with, warning us that the younger kids were a little too much and we might get tired of them. I said I would do the younger ones and she began giving me advice about how to deal with them...I said “Bring it!”
As we pulled onto the dirt road that lead back to the orphanage/school, my heart thudded. These beautiful black faces with pearly, shinny teeth glowed at me and chased the car. I wonder what kind of things they were thinking. I could tell that they were excited to see us, not only by the smiles on their faces but also the way the jumped and clamored for me when I got out of the car. Within second I was already feeling at home and being tugged on to pick up toddlers that crowded at my feet...That is when I saw him...

Love at first sight! I felt a pull on my pants and when I looked down this happy little chubby face with teeth to large to be baby teeth was holding a bowl of porridge of some sort and offering me some in his dripping, sticky, bare hand. I wanted him that very second... I could see me taking him in the car as he waves goodbye to all his friends ( much like the scene in any when Mrs. Farroll whisk Annie away in the limousine), loading him onto the airplane, waving goodbye to Africa and Hello to America...I will stop here and tell you that did not happen and I knew it would not happen so I forced it out of my mind that second. The African government and adoption process is horrible. So many children with no home there and so many homes with no children here. It would be the perfect solution to two heartbreaking problems. Sadly enough, that is not how the African governments see it. So good for you Madonna and Angelina for cutting through the red tape. I could care less if you are famous or not. The fact that someone gets a kid out and gives them a chance to be healthy, educated and most of loved is huge. The media should butt out.
Kathy takes me to room that has a locked door (one of only rooms that even has a door). She gives me a stack of books and some instructions and we are off to the second grade class. Sh leads me to the cement room which is to become my classroom. She introduces me to the teacher sitting in the corner and tells him I am here to help today. He says thank you, shakes my hand a disappears never to be seen again. “ Well, they are all yours. Have fun.” She walks away from me on the little covered porch and I see something peek around the corner. A very familiar set of brown eyes over two very chubby checks. My cute little boy makes a b line for me when Kathy has cleared the area. “You want to stay with me?” He nods a big “Yes.” “Well, All-righty then” I say as I take his hand. And Peter Pan found her shadow.
Three things I am not worried about. First of all, It just lice. Whats the big deal. I can buy a shampoo for those little critters anyway. Second, Its just little pee. Like my kids never peed on me before (or my brothers kids...Zack , you knucklehead). Besides whats a little pee compared to the only affection these kids might get. Thirdly, and most importantly, happiness is infectious and it burst out of these kids at an alarming rate so you have no time to even be sad or think sad...until it’s time to leave (but we will get to that part in due time).
So I begin by finding my little man a seat. The kids know him so they don't mind him squeezing in the middle. I say, "Good morning class,” because Kathy told me to say that. “Good morning mademoiselle,” sounds the unison chorus, “How are you today?” Kathy did not tell me about this and I giggle a little at the cuteness of it all. “I am fine thank you.” I reply, “How are you?” “very well. Thank you for coming to our school today.” SO CUTE!
I am defiantly having an out of body experience as it all begins to sink in that I am teaching second grade in the dirt in Africa. Me, this simple, silly girl. Will someone explain to me how I got here?

Bead Market...continued (April 15, 2009)

In the middle of this this large village market you finally come to what looks like a the ruins of a 3 foot high cement foundation. Not sure why or how it got there but it is the Bead market. Rows and rows and Bead vender's sit at their stall and wait for costumers...especially the white Americans. They are the hard core bargainers trying to sell you their beads. They will tell you all sorts of things to make you think their beads are the best. It was funny going with Tammy because she has been around the African block a few times and knows more about the beads then she looks like she does. They would tell her that they were old ( antique) or something else and she would look at me and say “no their not.” Some people recognized her and and showed her beads they thought she would like but for the most part...all us white folk must look the same to them.
At one point I turned to Ryan to say something and he had completely disappeared. I normally don’t worry to much about my Gandolf of a husband. He has keen sense of direction but we were in uncharted territory and here is this tall white man with a video recorder. It made me a little jittery. When 20 minutes past and he still did not resurface I began to get really scared. About 10 minutes and a little prayer in my heart, he showed up just beaming with pride. He said he filmed these people and they were so happy and he talked with them got it all on tape (come to find out when we got back that he did not have it on record and missed it all. He was so devastated). Well, I bargained my way through the market and came out with some awesome beads. By the time we were done i felt like I had jumped into river with me clothes on. sweat was dripping done my sore back (still sore from the car ride and we still had to drive back). Plus, My clothes were stuck to me showing everyone the bumps and groves I was hiding in the first place. Luckily by this time I knew that African don’t care...they already thought I was too skinny...now come on, ladies. How can I not love Africa!
We got back to the car, tip the security attendant guy. and we were back on the road..sort of. Traffic jam. No one was moving an inch. The Traffic rules in Africa are as follows...
Do not leave any room between you and the car in front.
Crouch or be encroached upon. 
There you have it folks. Now you can drive in Africa. So Tammy found a tiny crack and nudge her way through and then we were off. ( just a little note here for you boys...and by boys I mean the ones Tammy had. You should be so proud of your mother. I mean she has adapted and boy she knows her way around Africa with out fear. I love her for this. Well, I love her for many reasons but this is defiantly one of them).


Next stop on our bead tour was the famous Sedis Bead Factory. And when I say famous I mean famous. The wise and knowing Ebenezer was not even there because he was in Vegas at a bead show or something. He had been all over the world because of his bead making skills. His brother walked us step by step through the bead making process. It was painstaking, so much so that I am too lazy to even type it but Ryan recorded it all (yes, it actually recorded) and you can watch it when I figure out how to get it loaded up on here. Plus, it more of an experiences to try and figure out what he i saying. you kind of have to concentrate hard on their words for a few minutes until your brain gets use to the dialect. 
Then I bought beads and a cute bowl made out of...you guessed it dirt and termite secretions and we drove home. A funny note...When we passed the lady with the sewing machine, she had gotten a lot done and it was a wedding dress.

The Bead Market (April 15,2009)

Back to my story... So we headed down the road and followed our tour guide Tammy in to a market. This was more like the African market I was expecting...not the city market in Accra. There was scarfs and handmade soap, poultry and oh, oh, oh, that horrible smoked fish smell that turns my insides out. From behind me I could heat someone shouting “O’brunie, Hey O’brunie” Then It said “Hey White Lady!” “Wheres another white lady”...I thought to myself” oh I am the white lady. So I turned around to see these silly girls in there uniforms all giggling. I started to laugh too and waved at them. They waved back and then began to run up to me and feel my skin and hairy arms. This was on my favorite things about Africa. How the children are so curious about you and have no fear about other people. Once they know you are friendly they have no inhibition about figuring you out.

Ryan ended up behind me as we walked single file through the crowded market. He was being quit the shutter bug. I looked down as I passed a poultry stand to a dozen freshly banged-on-the-head dead chickens for sale. I knew they were freshly dead because one jerked just as I looked at tit and scared me to death. I pointed at it and turned to Ryan so He would get a picture. When I turned back around I almost ran right in to the guy whose job it was to Pluck those things . He was plucking like crazy, just tearing out those feathers. Wow, What a sight. Only in Africa...okay, maybe in Arkansas too.

I had seen so many beautiful women with their scarfs all tied on their heads in fancy ways. I have always been a”scarf in my hair” kind of girl so I wanted to buy one. I saw a two older ladies sitting in their scarf store ( the term “store” is used very lightly here) so I went in. I picked out a cute one and did not even barter for it when she told me how much it was. I think it was 2.5 Sedis which is only about 2 buck in America...I was not about to take that ladies smoked fish and rice dinner out of her families mouth. I asked her to tie it like hers was tied and you would have thought I had brought her publishers clearing house check. She was so flattered that I liked her “ways” and jumped to the chance to show me how she tied hers. She wanted to pose for picture and then Ryan turned the camera to show her. She was so thrilled she hugged me. I love these people!
As we walked I got all sorts of hoops and hollers. When I turned the old women everywhere were pointing to my head and laughing. I started to feel a little “wannabeish” with my African scarf but Tammy assured me that they were laughing because it made them so happy that this white girl liked their customs and wanted to be a part of it. She said if I had tied it on the honky way they would be making fun of me. I was not sure I agreed until the next time I turned and a little ol’ lady pointed at her head and gave me thumbs up. She was so cute. I got all sorts of comments about how beautiful my scarf looked when we finally reached the bead market.

On the way to the Bead Market (April 15,2009)

Driving to the bead market was quit the adventure. Almost like a amusement ride. Not only were the sight and sounds intriguing but I finally realized why Rusty had been so excited for the nice roads. Since this day we had driven on pretty decent, new roads...until this day. I did not realize how bad my poor back would ache until we got back home. Dirt, pot holes the size of small cars, traffic jams etc. But enough of my American whining... I am in Africa and when in Africa....

Tammy has been so excited about these beads since she first stepped onto African soil. When she brought back boxes the first time she came home to visit...I must say, I was hooked. So I was pretty excited to see how this was all done. We first stopped by a place called TK beads. I guess they had recently landscape the yard and remodeled one of the buildings into a shop. It this was my favorite place we would go to because of the great selection of colors and beads to choose from. I was overwhelmed here because I wanted it all. They had tons of purple and greens. Their painted beads were a little different then I had seen before as well so I had lots of fun. I filled my basket but fearing I would love the other places just as much I put some stuff back so I would still have enough money. If you see what you like in Africa...get it. You won’t see it again. You don’t really have the luxury of shopping around. The sweet girl there gave a quick tour of everything and explained how they do their beads. There was a small boy Washing the beads on a rock. When Ryan went to take his picture he got nervous and told Ryan “no”. When we got back to the car I looked at Ryan pictures and he had snapped one anyway when the boy was not looking. I wondered why this boy was so nervous...maybe he had run away or something. It was not the usually “ No’ we had been getting from others who did not want to be our photographic subjects.

The funniest sight was when we passed this huge flat bead truck that had wood on both sides. They were stacking this old T.V. sets about 10 high so I thought they would for sure just ker-plop out onto the road. There were a ton of them too. The only thing I could think of was...” you better make sure you buy one from the top.
Our next stop was the Bead market in Buddabura. Once again we were headed out on the bumpy road. We drove through small villages with crazy business signs. My favorite was “loverboys undertakers” with a picture of a women all dressed up...I assume dead. We also drove by a women with a sewing machine sitting outside of her little shack of a house. She was busy sewing something shiny and white. It looked like a wedding dress. We finally reached Buddabura and it was packed with people in the streets heading here and there, children in uniforms and little shops all lining the street. It was a regular metropolis. We pulled in to a gas station (of sort) and asked a security man if we could park there. He said yes and he locked up and headed out. The minute I got out of the car sweat started to drip down my back. It was hot and muggy.

We walked a few yards down the road and came to a girls sitting in on a bench. The Sign read...Cold Drink. She must have a generator or something running on a ice box.Ryan ordered a coke, Tammy ordered a sprite, I ordered an orange Fanta. She had she did not have one so I thought of something else I would like to drink ( I don’t like pop much so a was a little bothered. She pulled out various drinks for me to choose from...coke, diet coke, sprite, Dr. Pepper...Orange Fanta... “Oh, I will take the orange Fanta.” That's Africa for you. She handed us our glass bottles and we wiped them of with a antibacterial wipe. I wondered if this ritual ever offended them or made us look strange. Tammy said “straws?” Because you should always use a straw in Africa. She did not have anymore and Ryan looked at me with fear behind his baby blues. “ It’s okay,” Tammy said “ just don’ put your whole moth on the bottle.” Ryan began to walk away with his drink and the lady said... “no,no.” Tammy explained to us that we only paid for the drink not the bottle and that they sale the bottle back. If we would like to buy the bottle from her we could. So we sat and drank...carefully. We found out that she was 14 years old and that this was her Aunts store who had left for a funeral (There is always a funeral). She was also watching her niece. I had a thought while I packed my bags that bringing a bottle of bubbles might be fun if I had a chance to show them to some kids. Ryan thought it was silly and would only end up exploding in my bag somewhere over the Atlantic. They didn’t. I had put them in my purse before we left on our field trip. I took the bubbles out of my bag and blew them in the air towards this little girl who just sat starring at my scary white face. She looked at the bubbles in awe as they floated down. But as they came closer she was not so sure about them and became a little upset as she tried to get out of the way of these strange oncoming orbs. One popped on her face and you would have thought it had burned her by the wail she let out. I felt bad that I had made her cry. My first bubble attempt had failed. Ryan mocked me as we gave back our empty bottles and headed back out on the road.
I need to add her that soda pop is so much better in Africa. It may be because its in a glass bottle or that it is made differently for other countries...but I normally do not like it and can pass it up. It gets me all bloated and burpy...a feeling I can do without, thank you very much. But, here it is not so syrup like and the bubbles are little so it is almost flat compared to our stuff. I could drink it by the gallons.