A Love Letter to Wa and a Major Life Update
On June 24, 2019, my life turned upside down. That was the day I found out that I was being removed from my site for security reasons (not coming from my community, but elsewhere), and would only be given three hours to pack up my belongings and say goodbye to the people and the places I have come to know over the last year of my life. The days before that fateful day, I had been in a rut, feeling down because Midservice Training was coming up and I felt like I had not done enough for my community one year in. My lessons felt uncreative, my relationships felt bored, and I found myself looking forward to going home in August to "take a break from my community."
You know that feeling you get when someone dies suddenly and you regret the last thing you said to or thought about that person? When you wish you could have let that person know just how much they meant to you and how much you loved them? That's how I felt when I learned I would never be going back to Wa. I was angry at myself for not appreciating what I had when I had it and for wanting to take a break from my students and friends in the community. I wish I could rewind time and redo those few days before I left, spending every minute with my students and my friends in town instead of staying inside reading and deep-cleaning my house (I still can't believe that was the last thing I did at site).
While I can't do that until someone invents a time turner, I want to make amends with my city by appreciating some of the people and places and experiences that made my time as a Waale woman so special:
I will miss the walk to town and market from my site. I lived just 25 minutes from the center of town and I am a cheapskate, so instead of taking a 1 cedi tro-tro to run my errands, I would walk. I got quite the reputation for this, since walking is seen as something only done when you don't have the means to travel any other way. CHOOSING to walk somewhere? My community could not understand it. A good portion of my trek to town was spent declining offers to ride on someone's moto and shaking my head when camboos (local name for tuk-tuks) slowed down and honked at me to get in. But even though I always declined these offers, in my choice to walk, I got to experience a beautiful aspect of Ghana: the friendliness of its people. While the walk to town was supposed to be 20 minutes, sometimes it took as much as an hour because I would start up conversations with people. Sometimes I regretted stopping (usually after being proposed to by a man I have never met before), but most of the time, this time ended up with me learning a new Waale word or making a new friend. I made so many friends along the road that the long walk in the hot sun ended up being something I looked forward to every weekend. I am so sad I never got to say goodbye to all of those people but I hope they are doing well and have met another nansala to call their friend by now.
I will miss the PCV community in Upper West. At first, I was not sure how I felt about having us all piled up so close to each other (no volunteer was farther than 2 hours from me and most were within an hour), but after a few months, I was thankful to have so many caring and giving and helpful people such a short distance from me. Each volunteer was never hesitant to help another PCV in executing a project, thinking of ideas, and even providing emotional support without expecting anything in return. The best example of such largess happened after a fellow UW PCV sexually harrassed me. PCVs gave me the courage to report the situation (I thought reporting might be an overreaction; they assured me it was not). They later stuck up for me when the offending PCV made any comments about me or ever tried to engage me in conversation (A note: Peace Corps refrained from firing this PCV, believing it would be sufficient to just ban us from speaking to each other again, so he remained in UW). These amazing people never made me feel bad for bringing up the incident months after it happened because I needed to talk about it and always made sure to remind me that it was not my fault. I will always remember how loved I felt talking to those volunteers during my time of need and am so thankful I was placed among them. Many have chosen to go back to the U.S. or have been placed far away from me, but I will never forget what they did for me and will treasure my time with them always.
Speaking of the PCV community, I will miss Prisons, the canteen we all would hang out at for drinks and monthly games and the one place in town that sold red red. So many things happened there, so many conversations, so many people met... and just a 25 minute walk from my house. I will miss sitting under the mango trees watching goats jump on cars (and even giving birth once!!) while talking politics and sharing care packages and just checking in on each other. This place was quintessentially Upper West: so chill, so fun, and so familial.
I will miss my students. My smart girls and boys, my goofballs, my best friends. They were so patient with me as I figured out how to be a better teacher and picked up the local signs for things and learned most of their sign names (with over 200 kids in our school, I still hadn't learned all of them a year in). They laughed with me (and at me) freely, making jokes and not being afraid to include me in them. They are so curious, always making up excuses to visit me and enter my room so they could "see America" and inspect the pictures of my family and friends on my wall. They always tried to include me in any games they played, even if they never succeeded in getting me to join their soccer league (sorryoo). My students loved when I got new clothes made and would always compliment me on them. But sometimes they were brutally honest and were not afraid to tell me when they didn't like something (like when I shaved my nape-- they never let me off the hook for that decision). My kids were always trying to help me figure out Ghana, and without them, I never would have made it a year in Peace Corps. Where else would I have learned how to shuck corn, properly wash clothes in a bucket, cut red pepper without my hands feeling like they were on fire, or plant sweet potatoes? But what I will miss most of all was how strong-willed and aware they are. They were not afraid to ask the big questions during girls' club or call me out if I was talking in front of them and not interpreting. If my kiddos are the future of deaf rights in Ghana, then I know the future is in good hands.
I will miss going to church with my students every Sunday. Walking through the bush and brushing bugs off of our Sunday best before arriving to church all sweaty and cursing the headmaster for refusing to allow us to ride the school bus (church was mandatory). Church was where I gained my confidence as a signer. The first time I was asked to interpret, I was mortified by how badly I interpreted. I could not understand the priests' accents but I was also so nervous I was frozen, as if my brain could not conjure up the appropriate signs for what I could understand. But did my kids make fun of me? No-- they saw how bad I felt and encouraged me to try again next week and the next until finally I could jump in and interpret at any point in the mass. I enjoyed making sassy comments about the announcements being made after mass and making the kids giggle. My heart melted whenever I arrived and the kids would be sure to give me a seat right in front of everyone. I loved exchanging peace with them as they jumped over each other trying to shake my hand. But really, I will miss the sense of community church gave my students. Even though only half of them were Catholic, my students really bonded as they helped each other get ready for church in the morning, walked there together, and cared for each other whenever questions or issues arose. I will miss bearing witness to that sense of community every Sunday.
I will miss the deaf community in Wa. Hanging out with them in Wa Market, helping to sell phone credit and candy. They were so patient with me as I asked them question after question, but I enjoyed approaching them for explanations of Ghana things because they never judged me or told me my questions were silly. I learned so much from them about politics, the history of my school, food, and how to sign the names of every country in Africa. I will miss how excited they would get whenever I talked about my deaf sister, how they would light up when I tried a new food for the first time, how they would crack up whenever a small baby saw me and burst into tears (because I am so white) and how they would truly listen to the things I had to say and offer sage advice and honest criticism and lively debate. I will miss how they stuck up for me and helped me pretend I was deaf to avoid marriage proposals from creepy guys. I will miss watching their kids grow up from tiny babies to smiling and clumsy toddlers. I will miss meeting new deaf folks every week and the conversation and candy they brought with them. I will truly miss them all and am so thankful I had the time I did with them.
I will miss my good friends:
Christie, my first and best friend, who made sure I was never hungry or bored. She is the big sister I needed in Ghana, helping me navigate Wa and letting me know when I was doing something stupid. She is the only person I trust with secrets and she was never afraid to tell me hers. If I told her to avoid someone, she would do it-- no questions asked. If the school was gossiping about me, she would shut it down without any hesitation. If I told her I was hungry, she'd find something in her fridge for me. I never got tired of all her stories, even the ones she told over and over. She is such a wonderful person-- so giving (she teaches students basic household skills most parents refuse to teach their deaf children and pays for all of her nieces and nephews to go to school) and so strong (she fought her way into becoming a teacher after being a housemother for years, over the objections of the headmaster and the Ghana Education Service) and so passionate (she continues to fight for deaf rights and is a very active member of the UW deaf community). I will miss making her laugh and sharing stories about the crazy men that enter our lives. When I left, she gave me the warmest hug-- huge because Ghanaians don't give hugs-- and I will treasure that moment forever.
Mauricia, my girls' club extraordinaire. I was worried about starting girls club at school because no one seemed interested. I didn't know Mauricia very well in March, but after seeing me write plans for a girls' club in my notebook, she demanded to be a part. In just a few short months she became one of my good friends, helping me out with favors and helping make girls' club as successful as it was. She is always so positive and cheerful that she made even my lowest days better. WaDeaf is so lucky to have her and her husband Rashid teaching there, as they are two of the most giving people I have ever met and care so much about the students. I am so happy I was able to call myself their friend, even if it was only for a few months.
Claudia and Annacleta, my neighbors, seamstresses and bada** business ladies. Our relationship started off admittedly rocky after a string of misunderstandings, but over the past few months, we started developing a relationship involving even exchange of artwork, food, and questions about life in our respective countries. They was not afraid to tell me when I was doing something wrong and always corrected me on it. For Claudia, I will miss helping her make TZ and fufu and having her laugh when I got tired after driving for only a few minutes. I will miss our photoshoots when we got new outfits made and her cry of "Chaleeeee" when she approved of a new shirt or dress I brought home. I will miss stopping by her store and learning what goes into starting a business in Ghana and all of the work she put into it. I will miss our shouting through the door at each other to make sure the other was doing okay when we were sick or feeling sad. I will miss laughing as she tried to sign things to her student but signed it completely wrong before having me interpret--much to the amusement of her students. For Annacleta, I will miss our firey conversations about racism and sex education at her store while I watched her sew. I will miss her offering me mangoes when I visited her and proudly showing me pictures of her grandkids. I will miss her insights into the problems Ghana faces and how she would fix them and hearing about how she told off men who were being sexist. Both of these ladies are outstanding examples of how strong and independent women in Ghana are, and I am so glad I got to learn how to be more confident in myself from them during my short time in Wa. I hope to be even half of their level of awesome when I return home to the States.
Gabriella and Christy, my mothers. To be honest, our friendship started out selfishly as I would stand around their kitchen and hope they would offer me bofrot, bread, or whatever they were cooking (they always did). But that ended up creating a relationship where we would ask each other about things in the other's country and share funny videos. They treated me like a student, letting me broil chicken and bake cakes and bread with their BDT classes. Although there have been plenty of times where they have said things that have offended me (they once called me a witch doctor for talking too fast), I know now they did so because they viewed me as their daughter, whom they had to put in her place sometimes so she could learn how to conduct herself better. I am grateful for the food and the mothering I received from them and know I would be a lot skinnier and a lot dumber without them.
Abiba, my Waale teacher and other "American-style" mother. We met so randomly-- she was getting her hair done and I was with a friend getting hers done. She saw my PC bracelets and told me she used to be a counterpart for a PCV years ago. This was the start to a beautiful relationship where she would teach me Waale ever so patiently and cook food for me and I would play with her kids and teach them all sign language. I can't believe how lucky I was to have her in my life. She understood how Americans like to be treated after all her years as a counterpart, so if I just wanted a hug or a sympathetic ear, I'd head straight to her house. The most illustrative example of her motherliness was when I was sick a few months ago. When I told her I couldn't go to her house for lessons since I was feeling ill, she ran straight to my house and brought me food to make sure I was eating and called every few hours to make sure I was taking my medication. I will never forget the cooking lessons, the laughing as we made mistakes trying to learn each other's languages, and the stories from PC circa 2000.
Omar, my good friend and trusted phone credit seller. Whenever I walked to town, I made sure to stop by his stand to talk about school and teaching strategies and to learn a little Waale. I loved how enthusiastic of a person he is about all things, whether it be teaching, selling things in market, or being a proud Ghanaian. I will miss that positive energy in my life.
The priests of St. Benedict, who invited me into their home and allowed me to ask them all sorts of questions about their home countries. I learned so much about how incredibly different each region of Africa is and I enjoyed their delicious food in the meantime. These guys were so nice to me, offering me mangos to bring back to WaDeaf for the kids, supplies for my home, or even the opportunity to watch news on their nice TV. I am forever grateful to have met them and to have found another community of "nansalas" to share the experience of being a foreigner with.
Finally, I will miss the feeling of home. After living in Chicago all of my life, I never thought I would love a city as much as I love my hometown. But you know the feeling you get when you have travelled someplace and you get close to home (in Chicago, that means seeing the skyscrapers!)--that beautiful feeling of relief and love and excitement all rolled into one? That's how I felt whenever I came back to Wa after travelling to other regions and even towns just an hour or two away. Once I saw an ad for a hotel or restaurant in Wa, the ten or twenty minutes to my house couldn't go by fast enough. I just had to get home-- to my students, to my friends, to my makeshift couch (a small mattress on some wooden benches-- best place for naps). Wa was truly my home away from home, and even though I only spent a year there, it was one of the best years of my life and I am so lucky to have been placed there.
Until next time, UW! Northern region, here I come!
You know that feeling you get when someone dies suddenly and you regret the last thing you said to or thought about that person? When you wish you could have let that person know just how much they meant to you and how much you loved them? That's how I felt when I learned I would never be going back to Wa. I was angry at myself for not appreciating what I had when I had it and for wanting to take a break from my students and friends in the community. I wish I could rewind time and redo those few days before I left, spending every minute with my students and my friends in town instead of staying inside reading and deep-cleaning my house (I still can't believe that was the last thing I did at site).
While I can't do that until someone invents a time turner, I want to make amends with my city by appreciating some of the people and places and experiences that made my time as a Waale woman so special:
I will miss the walk to town and market from my site. I lived just 25 minutes from the center of town and I am a cheapskate, so instead of taking a 1 cedi tro-tro to run my errands, I would walk. I got quite the reputation for this, since walking is seen as something only done when you don't have the means to travel any other way. CHOOSING to walk somewhere? My community could not understand it. A good portion of my trek to town was spent declining offers to ride on someone's moto and shaking my head when camboos (local name for tuk-tuks) slowed down and honked at me to get in. But even though I always declined these offers, in my choice to walk, I got to experience a beautiful aspect of Ghana: the friendliness of its people. While the walk to town was supposed to be 20 minutes, sometimes it took as much as an hour because I would start up conversations with people. Sometimes I regretted stopping (usually after being proposed to by a man I have never met before), but most of the time, this time ended up with me learning a new Waale word or making a new friend. I made so many friends along the road that the long walk in the hot sun ended up being something I looked forward to every weekend. I am so sad I never got to say goodbye to all of those people but I hope they are doing well and have met another nansala to call their friend by now.
I will miss the PCV community in Upper West. At first, I was not sure how I felt about having us all piled up so close to each other (no volunteer was farther than 2 hours from me and most were within an hour), but after a few months, I was thankful to have so many caring and giving and helpful people such a short distance from me. Each volunteer was never hesitant to help another PCV in executing a project, thinking of ideas, and even providing emotional support without expecting anything in return. The best example of such largess happened after a fellow UW PCV sexually harrassed me. PCVs gave me the courage to report the situation (I thought reporting might be an overreaction; they assured me it was not). They later stuck up for me when the offending PCV made any comments about me or ever tried to engage me in conversation (A note: Peace Corps refrained from firing this PCV, believing it would be sufficient to just ban us from speaking to each other again, so he remained in UW). These amazing people never made me feel bad for bringing up the incident months after it happened because I needed to talk about it and always made sure to remind me that it was not my fault. I will always remember how loved I felt talking to those volunteers during my time of need and am so thankful I was placed among them. Many have chosen to go back to the U.S. or have been placed far away from me, but I will never forget what they did for me and will treasure my time with them always.
Speaking of the PCV community, I will miss Prisons, the canteen we all would hang out at for drinks and monthly games and the one place in town that sold red red. So many things happened there, so many conversations, so many people met... and just a 25 minute walk from my house. I will miss sitting under the mango trees watching goats jump on cars (and even giving birth once!!) while talking politics and sharing care packages and just checking in on each other. This place was quintessentially Upper West: so chill, so fun, and so familial.
I will miss my students. My smart girls and boys, my goofballs, my best friends. They were so patient with me as I figured out how to be a better teacher and picked up the local signs for things and learned most of their sign names (with over 200 kids in our school, I still hadn't learned all of them a year in). They laughed with me (and at me) freely, making jokes and not being afraid to include me in them. They are so curious, always making up excuses to visit me and enter my room so they could "see America" and inspect the pictures of my family and friends on my wall. They always tried to include me in any games they played, even if they never succeeded in getting me to join their soccer league (sorryoo). My students loved when I got new clothes made and would always compliment me on them. But sometimes they were brutally honest and were not afraid to tell me when they didn't like something (like when I shaved my nape-- they never let me off the hook for that decision). My kids were always trying to help me figure out Ghana, and without them, I never would have made it a year in Peace Corps. Where else would I have learned how to shuck corn, properly wash clothes in a bucket, cut red pepper without my hands feeling like they were on fire, or plant sweet potatoes? But what I will miss most of all was how strong-willed and aware they are. They were not afraid to ask the big questions during girls' club or call me out if I was talking in front of them and not interpreting. If my kiddos are the future of deaf rights in Ghana, then I know the future is in good hands.
I will miss going to church with my students every Sunday. Walking through the bush and brushing bugs off of our Sunday best before arriving to church all sweaty and cursing the headmaster for refusing to allow us to ride the school bus (church was mandatory). Church was where I gained my confidence as a signer. The first time I was asked to interpret, I was mortified by how badly I interpreted. I could not understand the priests' accents but I was also so nervous I was frozen, as if my brain could not conjure up the appropriate signs for what I could understand. But did my kids make fun of me? No-- they saw how bad I felt and encouraged me to try again next week and the next until finally I could jump in and interpret at any point in the mass. I enjoyed making sassy comments about the announcements being made after mass and making the kids giggle. My heart melted whenever I arrived and the kids would be sure to give me a seat right in front of everyone. I loved exchanging peace with them as they jumped over each other trying to shake my hand. But really, I will miss the sense of community church gave my students. Even though only half of them were Catholic, my students really bonded as they helped each other get ready for church in the morning, walked there together, and cared for each other whenever questions or issues arose. I will miss bearing witness to that sense of community every Sunday.
I will miss the deaf community in Wa. Hanging out with them in Wa Market, helping to sell phone credit and candy. They were so patient with me as I asked them question after question, but I enjoyed approaching them for explanations of Ghana things because they never judged me or told me my questions were silly. I learned so much from them about politics, the history of my school, food, and how to sign the names of every country in Africa. I will miss how excited they would get whenever I talked about my deaf sister, how they would light up when I tried a new food for the first time, how they would crack up whenever a small baby saw me and burst into tears (because I am so white) and how they would truly listen to the things I had to say and offer sage advice and honest criticism and lively debate. I will miss how they stuck up for me and helped me pretend I was deaf to avoid marriage proposals from creepy guys. I will miss watching their kids grow up from tiny babies to smiling and clumsy toddlers. I will miss meeting new deaf folks every week and the conversation and candy they brought with them. I will truly miss them all and am so thankful I had the time I did with them.
I will miss my good friends:
Christie, my first and best friend, who made sure I was never hungry or bored. She is the big sister I needed in Ghana, helping me navigate Wa and letting me know when I was doing something stupid. She is the only person I trust with secrets and she was never afraid to tell me hers. If I told her to avoid someone, she would do it-- no questions asked. If the school was gossiping about me, she would shut it down without any hesitation. If I told her I was hungry, she'd find something in her fridge for me. I never got tired of all her stories, even the ones she told over and over. She is such a wonderful person-- so giving (she teaches students basic household skills most parents refuse to teach their deaf children and pays for all of her nieces and nephews to go to school) and so strong (she fought her way into becoming a teacher after being a housemother for years, over the objections of the headmaster and the Ghana Education Service) and so passionate (she continues to fight for deaf rights and is a very active member of the UW deaf community). I will miss making her laugh and sharing stories about the crazy men that enter our lives. When I left, she gave me the warmest hug-- huge because Ghanaians don't give hugs-- and I will treasure that moment forever.
Mauricia, my girls' club extraordinaire. I was worried about starting girls club at school because no one seemed interested. I didn't know Mauricia very well in March, but after seeing me write plans for a girls' club in my notebook, she demanded to be a part. In just a few short months she became one of my good friends, helping me out with favors and helping make girls' club as successful as it was. She is always so positive and cheerful that she made even my lowest days better. WaDeaf is so lucky to have her and her husband Rashid teaching there, as they are two of the most giving people I have ever met and care so much about the students. I am so happy I was able to call myself their friend, even if it was only for a few months.
Claudia and Annacleta, my neighbors, seamstresses and bada** business ladies. Our relationship started off admittedly rocky after a string of misunderstandings, but over the past few months, we started developing a relationship involving even exchange of artwork, food, and questions about life in our respective countries. They was not afraid to tell me when I was doing something wrong and always corrected me on it. For Claudia, I will miss helping her make TZ and fufu and having her laugh when I got tired after driving for only a few minutes. I will miss our photoshoots when we got new outfits made and her cry of "Chaleeeee" when she approved of a new shirt or dress I brought home. I will miss stopping by her store and learning what goes into starting a business in Ghana and all of the work she put into it. I will miss our shouting through the door at each other to make sure the other was doing okay when we were sick or feeling sad. I will miss laughing as she tried to sign things to her student but signed it completely wrong before having me interpret--much to the amusement of her students. For Annacleta, I will miss our firey conversations about racism and sex education at her store while I watched her sew. I will miss her offering me mangoes when I visited her and proudly showing me pictures of her grandkids. I will miss her insights into the problems Ghana faces and how she would fix them and hearing about how she told off men who were being sexist. Both of these ladies are outstanding examples of how strong and independent women in Ghana are, and I am so glad I got to learn how to be more confident in myself from them during my short time in Wa. I hope to be even half of their level of awesome when I return home to the States.
Gabriella and Christy, my mothers. To be honest, our friendship started out selfishly as I would stand around their kitchen and hope they would offer me bofrot, bread, or whatever they were cooking (they always did). But that ended up creating a relationship where we would ask each other about things in the other's country and share funny videos. They treated me like a student, letting me broil chicken and bake cakes and bread with their BDT classes. Although there have been plenty of times where they have said things that have offended me (they once called me a witch doctor for talking too fast), I know now they did so because they viewed me as their daughter, whom they had to put in her place sometimes so she could learn how to conduct herself better. I am grateful for the food and the mothering I received from them and know I would be a lot skinnier and a lot dumber without them.
Abiba, my Waale teacher and other "American-style" mother. We met so randomly-- she was getting her hair done and I was with a friend getting hers done. She saw my PC bracelets and told me she used to be a counterpart for a PCV years ago. This was the start to a beautiful relationship where she would teach me Waale ever so patiently and cook food for me and I would play with her kids and teach them all sign language. I can't believe how lucky I was to have her in my life. She understood how Americans like to be treated after all her years as a counterpart, so if I just wanted a hug or a sympathetic ear, I'd head straight to her house. The most illustrative example of her motherliness was when I was sick a few months ago. When I told her I couldn't go to her house for lessons since I was feeling ill, she ran straight to my house and brought me food to make sure I was eating and called every few hours to make sure I was taking my medication. I will never forget the cooking lessons, the laughing as we made mistakes trying to learn each other's languages, and the stories from PC circa 2000.
Omar, my good friend and trusted phone credit seller. Whenever I walked to town, I made sure to stop by his stand to talk about school and teaching strategies and to learn a little Waale. I loved how enthusiastic of a person he is about all things, whether it be teaching, selling things in market, or being a proud Ghanaian. I will miss that positive energy in my life.
The priests of St. Benedict, who invited me into their home and allowed me to ask them all sorts of questions about their home countries. I learned so much about how incredibly different each region of Africa is and I enjoyed their delicious food in the meantime. These guys were so nice to me, offering me mangos to bring back to WaDeaf for the kids, supplies for my home, or even the opportunity to watch news on their nice TV. I am forever grateful to have met them and to have found another community of "nansalas" to share the experience of being a foreigner with.
Finally, I will miss the feeling of home. After living in Chicago all of my life, I never thought I would love a city as much as I love my hometown. But you know the feeling you get when you have travelled someplace and you get close to home (in Chicago, that means seeing the skyscrapers!)--that beautiful feeling of relief and love and excitement all rolled into one? That's how I felt whenever I came back to Wa after travelling to other regions and even towns just an hour or two away. Once I saw an ad for a hotel or restaurant in Wa, the ten or twenty minutes to my house couldn't go by fast enough. I just had to get home-- to my students, to my friends, to my makeshift couch (a small mattress on some wooden benches-- best place for naps). Wa was truly my home away from home, and even though I only spent a year there, it was one of the best years of my life and I am so lucky to have been placed there.
Until next time, UW! Northern region, here I come!
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