A couple Yevus in Klikor

Wow. This week has been a whirlwind to say the least. I feel like we’ve been here for a month, and it’s only been a little more than a week. So much has happened, so bear with me… this post is about as organized as this country is.

We headed out Tuesday (yes, we were supposed to leave Monday, but as is often the case, there was a “misunderstanding”) for the orphanage (a village called Klikor), taking frightening trips in a mini van. Three and a half hours of heavy traffic and dirt roads with a maniac driver left us with our lives flashing before our eyes and our stomachs out of sorts.

The second we jumped out of the death wagon, we were greeted by about 100 little children who literally grabbed on to us from every angle and begged for our undivided attention. Though they don’t speak much English, the kids all know one phrase: “What is your name?” They ask it repeatedly, even if you’ve already told them the answer. If they’re satisfied, they might follow up with the same question about your mother, father, sisters and brothers, and they might ask how old you are. Even people on the streets yell “Yevu” (pronounced “Yeah-vo”), which means “white person” and ask what your name is. I guess it’s just a standard greeting.

They have definitely struggled with saying “Lindsay,” but they don’t have any trouble with “Clark.” However, because of Clark’s esteemed status as the older male, he is often referred to as “Mister Clark.” I have not received the same formality.

After finally escaping from the adorable little kids (by the way, the orphanage doubles as a school, and the orphans stay after hours), we settled into our room. It’s actually pretty nice all things considered – we have a bed, a table and a fan! Clark broke the bed trying to hang the mosquito net, and they hired a carpenter to build a new one on the spot.

Following a required “resting” period, we ate lunch. The orphanage feeds us three meals a day. Lunch was about 1/3 cup of spaghetti noodles, some sauce that kind of tastes like bolognese and chunks of slightly cooked cassava. Dinner was the same thing (minus the cassava, plus white rice and an egg), and every lunch and dinner has been some combination of those things… usually topped with an ample amount of grit and sand. Breakfast is usually a cup of Milo (like Ovaltine) and some white bread. If we’re LUCKY, we get fresh fruit and soda (no, not diet). So, obviously this is not the place for a low-carb diet. If I come back 15 pounds heavier, you know why.

Our first assigned task involved going into the neighboring community to determine which kids attending the school might deserve subsidized lunches. We were told to interview the family members and note the living environment to come to a conclusion. Keep in mind we are literally in the jungle! Most of the “homes” don’t have roofs, there is no running water, kids and grown-ups are unabashedly using the restroom in full view, and animals are running wild. There is nothing more depressing than seeing a family with nothing more than solid walls to surround and deciding they DO NOT qualify. And they don’t, because someone else doesn’t have a wall at all.

Although Ghanaian lifestyle is often frustrating – nothing is on-time, organized or remotely logical – the people here are some of the happiest on the planet. Kids living with nothing never cry when they fall down and scrape their knee. They never complain (although they don’t hesitate to beg for money, shoes or whatever), and they are always smiling. We haven’t passed a single person in the street who hasn’t grinned widely, and more often than not, they walk right up to you and say, “You are welcome” and that they are happy we are here. The kids are some of the cutest things you’ve ever seen, and the orphans have surprisingly strong personalities. One of our favorites, Peace, a five-year-old diva, is quite a little rascal. Overall, they love to learn – craving math problems and reading time, and they have an insatiable appetite for playtime.

After an intense four days, we left the orphanage (this is standard procedure on the weekends), returned to Accra, and then headed down the coast to a “resort” located where the Volta River meets the ocean. We stayed in huts, lounged around on the beach and sat around with the other volunteers near a bonfire at night. The other kids here are awesome, and it’s been just as much of an experience to have conversations with them.

We love you and miss you all! I’ll upload some pictures soon… I left my camera in the house.

-Lindsay