As I mentioned in my last blog post, lately I've been thinking about my life back in America before I started this great adventure in Ghana... My thoughts toward home manifest in a sort of distant fondness, and I sometimes find myself longing to visit places like the grocery store or my favorite cofffee shop. Inevitably, when my thoughts turn to the states, I am reminded of the many things that I've learned how to live without. The subject of this post is slightly ironic, considering the fact that I'm "watching" the Peace Corps sub-office this week while the volunteer who usually takes care of things here is away for a conference. This means that I've enjoyed several days of electricity, fans, internet, and nightly movies, as well as getting to play host to the many volunteers who come in and out of the office on a daily basis. Now that I think of it, I suppose my circumstances this week are quite fitting to my topic today, considering how pampered I've felt since I got to the office...
I know I've mentioned it many times before, but at my site, I don't have electricity and I use a pit latrine. This means when I'm in my house, I don't have luxuries like lights, fans, or a flush toilet. When I put it that way, it sounds a lot like an extended camping trip, where you simply learn to put up with daily annoyances, but I'd also like to share my thoughts on the simplicity and beauty of actually living without some of the things that we as Americans have grown accustomed to in our everyday lives.
I know that in the past, I have certainly been deceived into believing that certain conveniences, like a grocery store or even something as simple as a glass of cold water, are things that I was somehow owed. I think we often grow so accustomed to our way of life that we forget that there are other ways to live. Now, I had traveled a little to the developing world before coming to Ghana, going on a few mission trips to Mexico and traveling to Honduras, so I had some idea about what life might be like here, and the sacrifices that I might have to make to adopt a new standard of living. Yet since moving here and settling into my routines, I've come to realize that living in a place like this is not only about sacrifice, but is also about adjusting to a new way of life. Basically, I've come to realize the many things that I can live without, and yet still be satisfied and fulfilled. I've started to understand the difference between wants and desires in an entirely different way than before, and I think I have become far more appreciative of things that I used to take for granted.
Take, for instance, that glass of cold water that I mentioned before. Before moving to Ghana, I can hardly remember a time when I poured myself some water and it wasn't cold. It was something that I took for granted, because when you are at home, there is no reason why you shouldn't be able to enjoy a chilled beverage. Cold water comes out of the tap, anything can be refrigerated, and we have machines automated to provide us with the convenience of ice without having to open the freezer. We even expect public drinking fountains to spout cold water. A chilled drink was just one of many conveniences that I considered a need, and one that I was sure to complain about if for some reason there was not access to it. These days, I view any water that comes from a faucet as a luxury. Cold water, to me, has become something of a (rare) gift. You see, in many villages around my area, there isn't water to be had without walking a significant distance back and forth to the bore hole (or river) with a bucket on your head. You can't just turn on the faucet and fill up a sink, because there is no faucet (or sink, for that matter). You wait to drink water until you absolutely need to, because you don't want to waste the precious water that you have taken time and energy to fetch. In places like my village, where there is no electricity, there is no cold water to be found. Imagine coming home from a long day working outside. You are sweaty, dirty, exhausted, and so thirsty that you have a headache. When you finally draw a cup of water from the barrel, you take a big sip... of warm water. It's amazing how, after getting used to the reality that your water will always be like bath water (as it sits in a bucket in 110 degree weather all day), you realize that drinking something cold is not a necessity. You can live without ice. You can live without the refreshment of something cool. And when you realize this, you appreciate the ice so much more when you actually get it.
There are other things, like television and the internet, that I have also learned to live without (at least learned to live with minimum access to). Living my life without being fully "connected" all the time has helped me to realize how unfulfilling those connections truly are, especially when they take the place of relationships. Village life has helped me to appreciate the value of living and working through difficult times without falling back on the escapism of television or the internet. Quiet nights have taught me more about myself than any personality test could, and I am continually learning the importance of being happy without having to be "entertained."
These are just a few of the lessons I feel I have learned since living here. While "living without" certain conveniences can be, well... inconvenient, I have learned (and continue to learn) what it is that I can go without in my life and still be satisfied. I have even discovered that living without some things is actually much better than the alternative, and far more fulfilling.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Stella and Stargazing
First of all, I'd like to say that I absolutely can't believe that it is February already... Time is flying by!
Things here are good as usual, though the "Peace Corps Guilt" is once again kicking in with full force. When we get together, we volunteers often talk about a somewhat pervasive, mostly self-imposed guilt that we feel when we're at our sites (or away from our sites, for that matter). It's simply the feeling that you're not "doing" enough work, or not integrating enough, to be considered a "good volunteer." The idea is totally unfounded, we know, but it's hard to feel like you're doing good work when you're sitting in your house munching on mangoes and reading a novel because it's just too hot to walk outside into the sun... Anyway, as my service continues, I'm continually having to remind myself that stressing out because I'm not changing lives daily or comparing my work to the work of other volunteers are not productive ways to pass the time. It is seriously difficult, but at the same time, I'm receiving an incredible amount of grace and support to get me through even the most difficult times.
As far as work goes, I've been busy planning for the next few months of work, which will mostly consist of continuing our 32 village HIV testing campaign, starting up a health club at the Gushie Primary School, and helping to train the members of the ITFC Health Committee so that their committee will be self-sustaining in the future. I've got a busy few months ahead of me, which I am both looking forward to and slightly nervous about, as usual. :)
The other day I was thinking about how I was feeling this time last year compared to the reality of being here now. Last February, I hardly had an idea of where I would be posted, or even if I would be receiving an invitation to join Peace Corps. I remember having some pretty grandiose ideas about what it would be like to be a PCV: living in a village, speaking the language, working on many projects, and having my heart warmed by the cute children. Looking back, I now realize that many of my expectations were far rosier than the reality of living here has turned out to be. Yes, I live in a village with no electricity and use a hole in the ground as a toilet, but it's rarely as self-sacrificing as it sounds. In reality, I am lucky to have semi-running water, to be within walking distance of a company where I can charge my electronic devices whenever I so desire, and to live literally right next to the best road in the Northern Region. Speaking the language is certainly not as glamorous as I thought it would be. Most days I barely struggle through more than a few sentences without having to search for someone who speaks English to translate for me. As far as the cute children go... well, they are pretty great, especially when they're calling out "Madam Kate! Madam Kate, how are you, I am fine, thank you!" (said in one fast, frantic, run-on sentence). But they're not quite as cute when they are peeking into your windows while you nap or demanding "Tim ma toffee!" (give me candy!) over and over again, despite the fact that you've told them 50 times in the past week, "CHELLA! N KA TOFFEE!!!!" (Stop it! I don't have candy!). All of this to say that living and working here is, in so many ways, not at all what I imagined it would be, and yet it's somehow so much more.
Lately, I've been spending my evenings curled up reading a good book by candlelight with my kitty Stella flopped on my stomach sleeping. I doubt that I'll have too many other times in my life where I will have so much freedom to just relax and enjoy simple pleasures, so I'm trying to soak up these moments while I have an abundance of them. Another recent night time habit of mine has been to go stargazing, which always puts me in a better mood and makes me appreciate the beauty of the place I live in. The stars are incredibly intense, considering the fact that most nights are entirely cloudless and clear, and there are no lights in my village to obscure the sky. Once again, I realize that it is a rare gift to be able to enjoy moments like these in a place like this, and I'm trying to do my best to take the time and breathe in the beauty and simplicity of these moments.
As usual, you're in my thoughts and prayers. Much love from Ghana :)
Things here are good as usual, though the "Peace Corps Guilt" is once again kicking in with full force. When we get together, we volunteers often talk about a somewhat pervasive, mostly self-imposed guilt that we feel when we're at our sites (or away from our sites, for that matter). It's simply the feeling that you're not "doing" enough work, or not integrating enough, to be considered a "good volunteer." The idea is totally unfounded, we know, but it's hard to feel like you're doing good work when you're sitting in your house munching on mangoes and reading a novel because it's just too hot to walk outside into the sun... Anyway, as my service continues, I'm continually having to remind myself that stressing out because I'm not changing lives daily or comparing my work to the work of other volunteers are not productive ways to pass the time. It is seriously difficult, but at the same time, I'm receiving an incredible amount of grace and support to get me through even the most difficult times.
As far as work goes, I've been busy planning for the next few months of work, which will mostly consist of continuing our 32 village HIV testing campaign, starting up a health club at the Gushie Primary School, and helping to train the members of the ITFC Health Committee so that their committee will be self-sustaining in the future. I've got a busy few months ahead of me, which I am both looking forward to and slightly nervous about, as usual. :)
The other day I was thinking about how I was feeling this time last year compared to the reality of being here now. Last February, I hardly had an idea of where I would be posted, or even if I would be receiving an invitation to join Peace Corps. I remember having some pretty grandiose ideas about what it would be like to be a PCV: living in a village, speaking the language, working on many projects, and having my heart warmed by the cute children. Looking back, I now realize that many of my expectations were far rosier than the reality of living here has turned out to be. Yes, I live in a village with no electricity and use a hole in the ground as a toilet, but it's rarely as self-sacrificing as it sounds. In reality, I am lucky to have semi-running water, to be within walking distance of a company where I can charge my electronic devices whenever I so desire, and to live literally right next to the best road in the Northern Region. Speaking the language is certainly not as glamorous as I thought it would be. Most days I barely struggle through more than a few sentences without having to search for someone who speaks English to translate for me. As far as the cute children go... well, they are pretty great, especially when they're calling out "Madam Kate! Madam Kate, how are you, I am fine, thank you!" (said in one fast, frantic, run-on sentence). But they're not quite as cute when they are peeking into your windows while you nap or demanding "Tim ma toffee!" (give me candy!) over and over again, despite the fact that you've told them 50 times in the past week, "CHELLA! N KA TOFFEE!!!!" (Stop it! I don't have candy!). All of this to say that living and working here is, in so many ways, not at all what I imagined it would be, and yet it's somehow so much more.
Lately, I've been spending my evenings curled up reading a good book by candlelight with my kitty Stella flopped on my stomach sleeping. I doubt that I'll have too many other times in my life where I will have so much freedom to just relax and enjoy simple pleasures, so I'm trying to soak up these moments while I have an abundance of them. Another recent night time habit of mine has been to go stargazing, which always puts me in a better mood and makes me appreciate the beauty of the place I live in. The stars are incredibly intense, considering the fact that most nights are entirely cloudless and clear, and there are no lights in my village to obscure the sky. Once again, I realize that it is a rare gift to be able to enjoy moments like these in a place like this, and I'm trying to do my best to take the time and breathe in the beauty and simplicity of these moments.
As usual, you're in my thoughts and prayers. Much love from Ghana :)
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