Creative cooking.

For the past few weeks, my usual lunch provider, my counterpart's wife, Vivian, has been out of town. Normally, she doesn't get to go anywhere much because she's always super busy with every possible household chores and then some. (My counterpart, Peter doesn't help much either. Wither her being gone, there were left two people who had to cook to feed themselves. I can't really speak for Peter, but I was quite ready for the challenge of not starving without her. It's a challenge because I opted to not buy a gas stove when I first came to site. There were several reasons behind this. - I wanted to eat Ghanaian food cooked by Ghanians. - The sparse food produces in Ghana did not inspire any culinary inclination in me, I simply didn't know what I would of could make. ( I hate/don't know how to cook beans, eggplants, okra...) - And figuring how to lug a gas cylinder and stove top back to site was the furthest idea from fun, and then having to commit to the task of refilling the gas cylinder every few months also did not appeal. So I bought a coal pot and called it a day. It was really my lucky break that Vivian loves to feed me and is an amazing cook. So for the last year and a half, I would buy the monthly food products, and she would prepare lunch for me everyday. During training at homestay, my host sister provided me with considerable amount of Ghanaian food, but Vivian's cooking allowed me to learn more about all the local cuisines made with local ingredients -- eating soup made from bush leaves, flowers, ect... Otherwise, I probably would either slowly desiccate or get MSG poisoning from overloading on ramen, or just have terrible acne. With that system in place, I had a routine. Regardless of what I was doing, lunch is serve at around noon or 1pm, and I would never be hungry afterward. Lunch is my favorite meal in Ghana because Vivian would feed me to the point that I can't walk straight or have to stand slightly bend forward. She always wants to make up for my lackluster breakfast (popcorns) and dinner (nothing). It used to take me 45 minutes to light the coal pot and the idea of making a meal died with every dead match mounting in piles. Slowly, I started to get better at lighting the coal pot, and would be able to make hot water for tea without losing the entire morning trying. That allowed me to sporadically cook now and then -- still just ramen though, nothing serious. But with Vivian gone, I had to step it up. I stocked up on enough veggies that would not rot for 4-5 days without a fridge and other miscellaneous carby things that I generally dislike but still tolerate like bread and pasta. (Though I look forward to the day when I never have to eat bread ever again). Every morning, I made a fire, boiled water and cooked creative dishes from the 5 ingredients I have available. I managed to have soup, pasta salad, moringa omelette and only ate real ramen twice. Eggs were my main proteins but a PCV friend recently went to Germany and brought back some summer sausages, and I put some in every meal and they were delicious! Summer sausages, what a treat! It had been really fun cooking this way, pretending sometime that I was going camping somewhere in the wild, playing house by myself (I live alone afterall). Ghana has a lot of ingredient that I normally would not opt for back home, but my taste buds have changed over the course of times, and green peppers, bread, tomato sauce found their way into my bowl more often than I though. Probably due to hunger and limited options but I'll go ahead and call it improvement by circumstance. Maybe I can even put that on my resume... The year and a half spent watching Vivian cooks also allowed me to learn a lot about Ghanian cuisine and nutrition, which is good for me when talking about health and nutrition to other community members as a part of my job here. It has been strangely fitting, cooking for myself with a coal pot, to how I had imagined my Peace Corps service would be. Except that, I probably could not manage to do this while actually do other work at the same time. I had to constantly tending fire and cooking during the day time, and by the time I finish and want to rest, it's night and the day is gone. Eating Vivian's food is definitely more authentic, but I enjoyed the autonomy of cooking for myself a lot more than I thought. PCVs talk a lot about the lack of vegetables and fruits in meals, but I enjoyed the pleasures of greens in the form of moringa "the miracle tree", and shea oil (the very same ingredients that makes your lotion or anti-aging make up so expensive is actually used to fry my yam chips and other fried things here.) I think my eating habit is a lot better here than back home (no late night Denny's chicken wings and banana split run -- but I miss it so...) and I hope it sticks when I return in seven months. In the mean time, summer sausages is my latest and greatest cuisine crave. Feel free to send some my way. They don't have to be refridgeratd and is good with everything. What!? So Brilliant! Chau Ngo P.O Box 5736 Accra North, Ghana West Africa.

A good week.

Around a year ago, I made a list of all the potential projects I could or would do in my village. There were 8 or 9 things, counting that if I shoot for the moon and fail I'd still land on the stars. I have 5 and a half of the things on this list crossed off right now and the ambitious Asian in me wishes for recognition and a solid pat in the back.

Even as I am bragging about the things I have done, I know that I have not changed any lives. Compare to much much much better Peace Corps volunteers, my projects are small fries. People might remember me because I am the first foreigner they see, or that person who keeps talking to everyone about how they shouldn't poop in the bush or sleep outside without nets, but there is nothing that I have done for them that couldn't have been done by anyone else. Talking about my Peace Corps service like this is not a way of fishing for compliments – it's a reminder to myself to keep my ego from inflating from all the praises I received for the small things that I do.

Anyhow, last week, my Alternative Break Goli Youth Workshop finally came together. I got a small grand of 385 cedis (about 195 dollars) to fund a 3 days workshop during the school break for the JHS students in my community. I named it Alternative Break in honor of my main college involvement. After the grand was funded and per some students' request, a 4th day was added for ICT teaching – mainly to give my kids the opportunity to actually use a real computer. We have no electricity in the community and they learn how to use the computer almost entirely through a text book. The other 3 days, we cover Life Skills, Health and Food Security.

About only 13 students ended up making the workshop out of my original 20. Some took the opportunity of break to travel and find works and couldn't attend. But I guess that was a silver lining because the extra money for materials went into making the 4th day happen. The smaller group also allowed for me to have better control of the environment so in the end, I guess I still win.

But I couldn't really run 4 days of workshop without any help, so beside my local counterparts, some volunteers in my region also came and helped out. That was one of the most amazing thing. My village has never seen more foreigners before and all of a sudden, a bunch of white people are just roaming around – shock to the system I'm sure. I would like to think that my friends had a great time helping facilitation and sleeping on my floor. And I was also amazing to have some many people in my big empty house at the end of the night. Made me imagine what it could have been like if I had housemates.

The fund for my grant came from PEPFAR, which is money for HIV/AIDS awareness, so tried to focus a little bit more on HIV education than the other subject. I planned to have an HIV awareness mural and a play performance for my community on the 4th day, but we ran out of time. But my students went above and beyond and decided to commit to an extra 5th day to do the mural and the play – without me having to feed them! So on the extra last day, we met up again, and even though only 6 or 7 students showed up, (mostly girls, yay!) we managed to put together an amazing HIV awareness mural.

Initially, I wanted to have the students come up with their own idea about a mural, but that proved unsuccessful, so we decide to have another copy of the one I did when I was still a trainee (a smiling yellow condom holding hand with a smiling AIDS ribbon, it is a goofy as it sounds). I think some of you might recognize it. The great thing about this is when we did the first mural, we would joke about how that would be my main project, painting a smiling condom in all 10 regions in Ghana. So, two down, eight to go.

Not only able to paint an awesome mural, my students also put together a great play for the whole community. I had to ask them to scale back several time and focus on just HIV because they had wanted to act out everything they have learned (malaria, nutrition, hygiene, open defecation...), and we simply just didn't have time. Five condom demonstrations and one flip chart of nasty STI infection symptoms later, the community was buzzing about what they have heard or seen. My students, the newly crowned peer educators, could not wait to do it again and it felt wonderful to see such motivation.

So that was one of the busiest week of my Peace Corps service, and a great learning experience in term of being responsible and in charge of some sort of an operation, as small scale as it was. By the end, I was completely pooped but it felt great. This workshop ended on such an unexpected high note for me that I feel so much more confident in beginning more projects that I have been thinking about. Most of the time, the fear of failure holds me back, and maybe this is a late realization 18 months in, but in Peace Corps, I do what I want, and it's great.

Love in the Peace Corps is a wonderful and long lasting thing. Just ask my friends. Heart break in the Peace Corps is craptastic on just the same magnitude. Sad. Alone. Third world country. Crap. And that's all I am going to allow on this blog.

A vacation, a funeral and a wedding.

We recently had a funeral in my village – which really isn’t an uncommon thing since funerals happen here all the time. Generally I tend to avoid giant social gathering such as these because if there is anything I love more than getting my wisdom teeth remove is being the local attractions for drunken men and women from out of town. The man who passed away was apparently someone I knew, and by descriptions I thought of a particular old man, so I thought I really did know the deceased until I saw that old man still alive and well hanging out under the mango tree and realized that I didn’t know who died after all. Regardless, I made the decision of leaving my living lair and venture into the funeral grown to pay my respect – and to find out who died.

Peter, my counterpart, met me at the funeral ground and guided me near the open coffin viewing. I circled the deceased, stared at his face and his picture, racked my brain to find the slightest recognition in this person who had already crossed into the other world – and nothing came up. I learned that he was the brother of the first old man whom I thought had died, but even then, I still didn’t recognize his face. Sometime, it’s incredulous how well my counterpart reads me, because after we walked away, he turned to me and said, “you still don’t know the man, do you?” and there was no point for me to lie.

Later, I followed the crowd to the burial ground; a perfect rectangular cement box was made inside a hand dug pit that holds the coffin. Men gathered around to help the family lower the coffin into the pit and the three cements slaps to cover it. Witnessing all this gave me hope that the latrines that we are building can also be just as secure.

Two months ago, went to home to America for a vacation from Peace Corps. On one of my flights between Barcelona and Philly, this old hipster dude laughed at me couldn’t believe that I chose to have vacation in America. I just smiled and shut up because I didn’t want to tell him that all you can eat buffet, flushing toilet and cold cold beers are definitely a vacation from my regular eat-poop-drink options. There were certain things that I didn’t miss in America: the DMV (my license expired, and SoCal traffic, but seeing friends and family and late night drunk burritos really made up for them. Things were a bit strange in the beginning, I forgot how to deposit a check and every time I saw a white person I blatantly stared, so it was awkward to be in a public place. But about two weeks in, I missed Ghana, and I guess it was a good thing because if I didn’t miss it, the next 9 would be terrible. My latrine grant was filled while I was in the states too so that was a great motivation to go back and do work.

This time last year, things were starting to get a little rough in Peace Corps for me, but today couldn't have been any more different. I took a bath and combed my hair to attend one of my Peace Corps friends’ wedding. He had been here for about 2 years and made the decision to married his Ghanaian girlfriend, so we gathered together and helped him put up a wedding. Some vows and beers later, we are now waiting for it to get dark to have a bond fire celebration. This and next month, a lot of my friends here are going to finish their service and go home to continue their lives somewhere else, and it’s kind of a bitter sweet feeling being the person who stays behind watching them leave, (even thought I will be doing the same thing in 9 months). So the wedding has also been a good time for me to see some of these friends one last time.

Work wise, my latrines work is slowly starting after a long hibernation of waiting for fund. My community is excited for the supplies even though each of them is only receiving some portions and will have to cover the rest themselves. Nothing makes my day better than sweet small Ghanaian elders telling me in broken English that they appreciate me – an ego booster, even.

As usual, these have been the more exciting moments in my Peace Corps life, unless you count those great goat moments. I’ll try to be more interesting next time. Until then, feel free to send me post cards, small packages of candy or love letters.

Tess May.

Grandmothers also always cry.

Tonight feels somewhat familiar. 16 months ago, I was getting ready to leave home to Ghana for the first time, nervousness, excitement and relief were some of the emotions that came about. As I am packing to return to Ghana after some vacation tonight, the same emotions also returned.

Though I know this time what to expect in Ghana, where I will be, who will be there, and what I will be doing, somehow, I am still hesitating of whether or not I want to return there. I hope this is a normal feeling, like, before every "life adventure" one has doubt. Returning to Ghana is a continuation of my current life adventure, and therefore, it's okay for me to have doubts as I did 16 months ago. Knowing where I am living, who is there and what I am going to do might provide some security but also so intimidating. I have work that needs to be done when I get back, can I really do and finish this after all? Will I have enough time to even do all of that? And what if I fail?

I missed Ghana while I was gone. Between multiple giant meals everyday this past 3 weeks, I thought about my house, my little children, my students who are actually adults, my adults who have been my family and even the stupid goats that shit in front of my house. All that have been normalcy for me, and I wasn't ready to outside of it. So even though the food was copious and scrumptious, I am looking forward to get back.

My family is sad once again that I am leaving them, and that in turns makes me sad, which in turns makes me have these feelings. However, I know what hesitation I am feeling right now will pass once I am there again, being stared at by everyone, center of attention to all. Who wouldn't miss that, right?

You've got a friend in me, or other lines from a Hallmark card.

Three days ago I turned 25. Four days before that, we found out that one of friends in the Peace Corps passed away from a brief illness.

Needless to say the news was both shocking and painful for all of us. I still don’t really know how to formulate what I have been feeling in the last week into proper thoughts and expressions – so this blog post might be a pathetic attempt, please bear with me.

None of these feelings is about me. When you find yourself in a situation in which you are the third party witnessing lighting and thunder happening in someone else’s world, life ceases to be about you.  I am not sad for myself. I am sad for my friend Dani who was taken away from this world so unexpectedly and on some levels, so unfairly.

Since the moment that I was told that she passed away, the one year of us knowing each other replayed in my head. What she was like the first time I met her. What she was like the last time I saw her. What we promised to do together the next time we see each other. I was hoping that they made a mistake. That she was just in a real deep sleep, a coma, and she would wake up eventually, and we will all be free of grief. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. She was impressive, and now there’s a hole in our lives.

I couldn’t cry for Dani and that was shit. I have shed tears over much lesser things (ex-boyfriends) and she deserves all my tears, but I had nothing. I know she would have cried for me, and for that, I am forever guilty. My heart hurts for her, and I hope she understands.

·         Peace Corps did a press release about her, you can read it here. https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=13-641-017

In one of our last conversations, we talked about our hairs, how I really admire black women’s fros while she wished for the Asian smooth locks. We both agreed that we will trade hair in our next lives, so here’s hoping that she has silky strands and live pass a hundred in the next one.

It was also during this time, that I learned to appreciate my Peace Corps family even more. Just three weeks ago, we had an All Volunteers Conference, and I got to meet everyone. I wrote about the interesting characters I met in the last blog. I returned to site looking forward to run into them at a sub office or work on a project together in the next year. Dani’s news brought us together again all too soon, but I was glad once again that they were there. Everyone got together to put on Dani’s memorial service, and it was impressive to see what we could accomplish as a whole.

My birthday was in the midst of everything. I was looking forward to have a good birthday this year only because I like the number 25 and felt that this was a milestone. Plus, entering the quarter life, who doesn’t want an excuse to drink? But I also did not want to make my friends feel that they were obligated to celebrate with me while they were grieving for Dani. It felt improper. But some of my closest friends made it clear that they were there for me as well. We had a small celebration. I didn’t pay for a single drink or food. Ate everything I wanted for the night, and went home at a decent hour. I had pants on. It was all very classy. To be cheesy, I am overwhelmed by love. I couldn’t appreciate these people more if I try.

To end all this babbling, I guess I’m just so glad to be in Peace Corps right now. I am going home to America in one week to visit, part of me isn’t ready for it at all, and I am probably going to cope with it through excessive food consumption. You are free to join me then.

And finally, a shameless plug in about my latrine project – donations are tax deductable. https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=13-641-017

Something about Self Reflection

This time last year I swore in as a Peace Corps volunteer, hyperventilated and eager to leave the realm of training to enter the real world of the “toughest job I’d ever love”, completely self assured that I would no doubt make my marks, big or small. Now, as I am sitting here fatigued with some unexpected sickness, the thought of another year to go really poses the question, can I really make a mark at all? And it made me sad.

We recently had an All Volunteer Conference in which everyone single Peace Corps Volunteers in Ghana gather together for some fun socializing time as well as learning about the new tricks and bits of the development work world. It was during this time that I realized I am not as an impressive Health volunteer as I thought I was. It’s not a self pitying statement. I know what I have done, and most of them don’t fit under my sector’s category. My peers’ passion and motivation really leave something to be desire in my work.

I have been going through some rough spots lately, but it's nothing out of the ordinary in term of the rollercoaster of emotions that that us PCVs experience through out our service. My discoveries above only added to what I have been feelings, self-hate and doubts, and my response to it has been massive consumption of alcohol under the name of fun. However, as I make it to the otherside of debauchery, I realized something.

I am not an A student, and that’s okay with me, and I think Ghana has changed me.

In saying this, I can say that the most fruitful of my Peace Corps experience has been about self realization and discovery. Every project I have done, I have tried my best. Some worked and some faltered and some are on the edge. I can only live and learn from my mistakes and try not to be so hard on myself. A year ago, I would not have been able to think this way, and I think this is a sign of my growing up. Scary.

Getting further into this, I can say that I couldn’t have gotten to this point without a network of support by the friends I have made here in the last year – incredibly interesting characters from all the corners of America that I otherwise would have not met living in Southern California half of my life. They have gotten me through some rough spots and embraced me with so much love one person, whom otherwise could have been a total stranger to me a year ago, could give the other even as we all live as least 5 hours away in any direction.

And for those who really knows me, I don’t talk openly about love or feelings this much, or ever. So really, Ghana has changed me.

I guess to sum it up, I’m still glad to be here, warts and all.  

... And now for the sponsor's portion: I am currently helping my community build 146 individual and shared latrines. We are at the funding stage waiting for supplies to proceed. I am looking for donation for the project from anyone under any amount. If you are reading this, and you don't even know me, it's okay, I will forgive you for just $5 or $10 or more.

https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=13-641-017

i'll shut up for today, here are some pictures instead.

This time last year, I was enjoyed being fed a ridiculous amount of good food because of Lunar New Year, and navigating the unnecessarily confusing Houston high way systems --was still pretty fun.

Now I'm pretty sure I won't get that food anytime soon, and Houston is really, really far away. Instead I'm reminiscing about the last 11 months of my life remembering the good parts and forgetting the bad, while considering raw ramen as a great mid night snack.

A friend of mine mentioned that my blog posts have been quite depressing, and she was worried. I want to clarify that my babbling on this reflects the 35 or 40 percents of my experience. I keep good days in my heart, and I write about bad days to get them out of my system.

As me and the twenty something people in my group are reaching our one year mark, we are also reaching on mid way point. For some of us, this is the high/low emotional point -- happy that we made it this far and sad that expectations didn't reach. For some, it's the realization of our self and the work's limit, and the fear that we are running out of time.

I am one of them. Within the last month, I have experienced hope, frustration, disappointment, satisfaction, bitterness, and happiness. One followed the other, not seamlessly but somehow still fittingly. Things didn't go well, but somehow it worked out in the end. Something seemingly so easy to accomplish somehow turned out to be impossible.  My ego is bruised and failed plans hurt me tremendously, but somehow, I also recover more quickly. I can't stay angry for long, and it's easier now to admit faults or make apologies. Don't dwell on no shit is going to be my new motto.

Anyhow, I could spend the rest of this post talking about why I experienced those feelings this recent month, or I could let you see the better outcomes for yourself and make your day. I'm even going to dash (Ghanian's term for give a little extra somein' somein') you 3 more months (so that's from September, in case you couldn't do math) in pictures of my work since I've been a Peace Corps volunteer.

Hope you have good internet to load all this shits!

JHS students signing up for several different youth clubs 

the first of many Neem Cream demonstration 

steaming hot fufu and groundnut (peanut) soup for lunch -- periodically.

a little spiel about proper nutrition and more neem cream demo for some mothers, and nosy children.

women and children.
this picture is bigger because you have to find the photobomb in it. 

goats on a bench! come on, there are some GOATS, on a BENCH!

more neem cream demo at a baby weigh-in, so many crying babies that days, lawd...

net hanging demonstration at the school, and this boy showed us how he sleeps in it.
 oh , youth. 

waiting for our soaps to cool down.

one of the many community mapping that we did, "tell us where you shit!"

little gremlins who are actually my minions.

little girls with chairs on their heads. it's exactly what it looks like. 

our first ever spelling bee,
 and me.

talking about "don't be a fool, wrap your tool" in the house of God.

the dance team that represented our entire region to go to Accra and show off their skillz.
something like Ghana's best JHS dance crew, but everyone wins.

this old man practically dug this pit entirely by himself. it's 8 feet deep.

hanging posters about latrines.

hanging posters about latrines inspections.

one day, Simba, all this will be yours.

last minute strategy meeting before our football match.

drawing AIDS ribbon on people who were tested (108 tested!)

wearing it proudly!

showing it proudly!

So there you have it, my last 4 months-ish of work related things. I hope this makes up for all the downer posts I've been throwing at you this entire last year. Check my facebook if you want more!