August 30, 2011
*****
As imagined, the last seven days have been incredibly up and down. We did our calabash celebration at the Tamale office to commemorate the 50th anniversary. Some of the Volunteers have been working the last few months on various murals at the office that highlight aspects of Northern life. They turned out amazing and I'm in awe when I walk into the living room. We grilled out, ate way too much food and then proceeded to watch Game of Thrones. That's right - the show that's on right now. We watched almost the entire season (before we all passed out into food comas).
After that, I had a few days with the just the girls at the office and, no offense, guys, it was amazing. The house was clean, it was quiet, it didn't smell so bad. We had an all-day movie marathon starting with (sigh) The Fountain, then The Brothers Grimm, Who Framed Roger Rabbit and finally Shutter Island (whoah! crazy cakes!). It was like I was in college again and it was raining on a Sunday afternoon. And, also like I was in college, we cooked a monstrous pot of Ramen noodles and chopped up hot dogs in it for dinner.
The next day, we all headed down to Accra for the swearing in ceremony. It was a long ride (but it can always be longer!). I had all of my bags with me since I'll be going home at the end of the week, so it provided a nice excuse for a taxi cab to the office. Since everyone was coming down for swearing in, the office decided to hold a meeting on Peace Corps policies and how to report allegations of various natures and our rights as Volunteers. It was great to see everyone and that meeting was a lot less painful than it could've been.
We also divided everyone up into committees to help out on the day of the ceremony - we needed ushers, trash gatherers, photographers, social media folks, gift givers and the like. Rob, our programming and training director, had these two huge cow horns that have a hole cut in the side of them and was trying to get some people together to blow the horns at the event. I tried a few times and got pretty good on one of them, but couldn't do the other one. I was going to be the co-horn blower, but when I found out I'd have to do it in front of pretty much everyone, I started to get a little nervous, to doubt my horn abilities. I practiced all night last night (sorry to those of you sleeping in Club Medical), but had to hand over the horn this morning (and “my lips hurt real bad”).
Today was the day of, the final toast for the 50th anniversary of Peace Corps. There will be more events in Washington, but for us, today was the day. Fifty years ago, almost to the hour, about 50 men and women stepped off the plane in Accra to become the very first Peace Corps Volunteers to begin service. We were honored to have one of those men in our midst this afternoon, along with several dozen other RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) who came to commemorate the event. It was held at the Ambassador's house (Mr. Teitelbaum and his family have been very gracious to us over the years, as I'm sure those of you who've kept up with this blog can attest to) and he, along with the Deputy Ambassador and the Ghana Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Peace Corps Africa Regional Director were also in attendance.
There were speeches and toasts and dances and drumming. There were sausages and hummus and tiny pizzas and sheet cake. We had new Volunteers do sign language to Michael Jackson songs (it's not a party without the King of Pop) and thank you speeches in Twi. There were TV crews there, journalists - it was a pretty big affair. I spent most of the day updating our Facebook page and trying to keep things as interactive as possible, so I didn't get to hear a lot of the speeches. I did hear one, however, that really stuck with me.
The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Alhaji Mumuni, talked of his time as a young boy in Tamale and one teacher that he had that truly made a difference in his life. This teacher was a young woman, just out of college and he said she really inspired him to think about giving and sharing, about volunteerism and how relationships build peace. He was a high schooler and she taught him French and was very influential in his desires to go into the government sector. This woman, Dorothy George, was a Peace Corps Volunteer. She served in 1963 in Tamale. Mr. Mumuni expressed today that he's fallen out of contact with Ms. George and would very much like to get in touch with her, to thank her and to show her what he's become.
As he was talking, it made me think about the young guys in my village, “my boys” as I call them. They're around the same age as this gentleman was when he knew Ms. George. They're probably my best friends - Abukari, Mohammed, Somed and Baba. They're four little troublemakers that I've taught how to play checkers just so they'll be under supervision while playing on my porch at night.
I think what Alhaji said, about how that woman made a difference in his life, about how she didn't even know, how she was just going about her job, not really thinking she was doing anything special...well, it was special to him and I think that's something that every Volunteer can relate to. After you serve for a while, your expectations get knocked down a few notches and you quickly realize you're not actually going to save the world. You're probably not even going to 'save' your village. Your scope becomes tightened, your focus intense and you zero in on a few people. My boys are my few people. It's probably my greatest realistic hope (because I definitely have greater hopes that will probably never be realized) that those boys all go on to be something special. I know they will, in their own right, but when I talk with them, when I see how they grasp certain concepts or think about things, I just know they have something great inside of them. I want very much for them to be able to realize their full potential and do whatever they want to do in life, because I know that they can.
I've shown them how a computer works or explained how satellites send information around the world. We've talked about parables and Greek tragedies, debated politics and painted school rooms. I've kicked their butts in card games and they've handed me mine a few times. Those little things, those throw away moments, have been the best part of my service, probably because somewhere, in the back of my mind, I know what a difference it can make in the life of a young kid - to be encouraged, to be given a chance, to be taken seriously and to be listened to. I think back over my life and how many people have stepped in and taken notice, supported me and prayed for my success. I guess this is my way of returning the favor.
I talked with Abukari one night about what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said that he wants to be a Minister as well. When I was listening to Alhaji speak today, I had a flashback to that conversation. We were sitting on stools outside my house, in the dark, staring at the stars. I'd just used my phone to teach him about Facebook and what e-mail was when he said that he wanted to study politics in senior high school. I thought about things my mom and dad have said to me over the years and, echoing them, I told him that he could do it, if he really put his mind to it. He laughed a little, but I told him, no - if you really want to be a minister, then you are the only person standing in your way. And since I knew he was going to do it, he had to promise me one thing - he couldn't chop money. He really laughed then, but he went on and promised, then said, “When I am a minister, I will remember this.”
So, maybe on the 100th Anniversary of Peace Corps, Assan Abukari can be the keynote speaker.
As imagined, the last seven days have been incredibly up and down. We did our calabash celebration at the Tamale office to commemorate the 50th anniversary. Some of the Volunteers have been working the last few months on various murals at the office that highlight aspects of Northern life. They turned out amazing and I'm in awe when I walk into the living room. We grilled out, ate way too much food and then proceeded to watch Game of Thrones. That's right - the show that's on right now. We watched almost the entire season (before we all passed out into food comas).
After that, I had a few days with the just the girls at the office and, no offense, guys, it was amazing. The house was clean, it was quiet, it didn't smell so bad. We had an all-day movie marathon starting with (sigh) The Fountain, then The Brothers Grimm, Who Framed Roger Rabbit and finally Shutter Island (whoah! crazy cakes!). It was like I was in college again and it was raining on a Sunday afternoon. And, also like I was in college, we cooked a monstrous pot of Ramen noodles and chopped up hot dogs in it for dinner.
The next day, we all headed down to Accra for the swearing in ceremony. It was a long ride (but it can always be longer!). I had all of my bags with me since I'll be going home at the end of the week, so it provided a nice excuse for a taxi cab to the office. Since everyone was coming down for swearing in, the office decided to hold a meeting on Peace Corps policies and how to report allegations of various natures and our rights as Volunteers. It was great to see everyone and that meeting was a lot less painful than it could've been.
We also divided everyone up into committees to help out on the day of the ceremony - we needed ushers, trash gatherers, photographers, social media folks, gift givers and the like. Rob, our programming and training director, had these two huge cow horns that have a hole cut in the side of them and was trying to get some people together to blow the horns at the event. I tried a few times and got pretty good on one of them, but couldn't do the other one. I was going to be the co-horn blower, but when I found out I'd have to do it in front of pretty much everyone, I started to get a little nervous, to doubt my horn abilities. I practiced all night last night (sorry to those of you sleeping in Club Medical), but had to hand over the horn this morning (and “my lips hurt real bad”).
Today was the day of, the final toast for the 50th anniversary of Peace Corps. There will be more events in Washington, but for us, today was the day. Fifty years ago, almost to the hour, about 50 men and women stepped off the plane in Accra to become the very first Peace Corps Volunteers to begin service. We were honored to have one of those men in our midst this afternoon, along with several dozen other RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) who came to commemorate the event. It was held at the Ambassador's house (Mr. Teitelbaum and his family have been very gracious to us over the years, as I'm sure those of you who've kept up with this blog can attest to) and he, along with the Deputy Ambassador and the Ghana Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Peace Corps Africa Regional Director were also in attendance.
There were speeches and toasts and dances and drumming. There were sausages and hummus and tiny pizzas and sheet cake. We had new Volunteers do sign language to Michael Jackson songs (it's not a party without the King of Pop) and thank you speeches in Twi. There were TV crews there, journalists - it was a pretty big affair. I spent most of the day updating our Facebook page and trying to keep things as interactive as possible, so I didn't get to hear a lot of the speeches. I did hear one, however, that really stuck with me.
The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Alhaji Mumuni, talked of his time as a young boy in Tamale and one teacher that he had that truly made a difference in his life. This teacher was a young woman, just out of college and he said she really inspired him to think about giving and sharing, about volunteerism and how relationships build peace. He was a high schooler and she taught him French and was very influential in his desires to go into the government sector. This woman, Dorothy George, was a Peace Corps Volunteer. She served in 1963 in Tamale. Mr. Mumuni expressed today that he's fallen out of contact with Ms. George and would very much like to get in touch with her, to thank her and to show her what he's become.
As he was talking, it made me think about the young guys in my village, “my boys” as I call them. They're around the same age as this gentleman was when he knew Ms. George. They're probably my best friends - Abukari, Mohammed, Somed and Baba. They're four little troublemakers that I've taught how to play checkers just so they'll be under supervision while playing on my porch at night.
I think what Alhaji said, about how that woman made a difference in his life, about how she didn't even know, how she was just going about her job, not really thinking she was doing anything special...well, it was special to him and I think that's something that every Volunteer can relate to. After you serve for a while, your expectations get knocked down a few notches and you quickly realize you're not actually going to save the world. You're probably not even going to 'save' your village. Your scope becomes tightened, your focus intense and you zero in on a few people. My boys are my few people. It's probably my greatest realistic hope (because I definitely have greater hopes that will probably never be realized) that those boys all go on to be something special. I know they will, in their own right, but when I talk with them, when I see how they grasp certain concepts or think about things, I just know they have something great inside of them. I want very much for them to be able to realize their full potential and do whatever they want to do in life, because I know that they can.
I've shown them how a computer works or explained how satellites send information around the world. We've talked about parables and Greek tragedies, debated politics and painted school rooms. I've kicked their butts in card games and they've handed me mine a few times. Those little things, those throw away moments, have been the best part of my service, probably because somewhere, in the back of my mind, I know what a difference it can make in the life of a young kid - to be encouraged, to be given a chance, to be taken seriously and to be listened to. I think back over my life and how many people have stepped in and taken notice, supported me and prayed for my success. I guess this is my way of returning the favor.
I talked with Abukari one night about what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said that he wants to be a Minister as well. When I was listening to Alhaji speak today, I had a flashback to that conversation. We were sitting on stools outside my house, in the dark, staring at the stars. I'd just used my phone to teach him about Facebook and what e-mail was when he said that he wanted to study politics in senior high school. I thought about things my mom and dad have said to me over the years and, echoing them, I told him that he could do it, if he really put his mind to it. He laughed a little, but I told him, no - if you really want to be a minister, then you are the only person standing in your way. And since I knew he was going to do it, he had to promise me one thing - he couldn't chop money. He really laughed then, but he went on and promised, then said, “When I am a minister, I will remember this.”
So, maybe on the 100th Anniversary of Peace Corps, Assan Abukari can be the keynote speaker.