2nd Africa Blog

So sorry the blogs are not going out in a timely fashion. The electricity keeps going out. Then once the electricity is back the server is down.Here is blog No. 2March 19, 2007 ~ Rachel DentonGreetings, friends in Farragut, Tennessee, & beyond.We've survived our first real day of work in the Village of Hope. Not surprisingly, it was another day of blistering heat and sun. We sweat ed our way through our various jobs, occasionally relieved by the breeze coming off of the ocean. Regardless of the breeze, though, the heat was stifling, inside and out.The clinic-goers arrived early in the morning, gathering in the shade of the tree in front of the clinic. They arrived via taxi, bicycle, and by foot. The doctors set to work, "healing the sick," as my dad likes to say. Jean and I headed to the nursery school to meet with Fostina, the director of the preschool. While Jean explained the concept of a skills assessment to Fostina, I sorted through several dozen decks of flashcards with topics ranging from feelings to analogies. I was supposed to be separating preschool level flashcards from grade level, and the analogies set worried me because as a high school senior, I still know people who can't do analogies. I then spent a good half hour wandering around in search of Anna and Katie who, incidentally, I never located. (From Katie - We were in the library/computer lab getting reading assessments off the Internet for reading packets & trying to send out the first ~ then the server went down) When I made it back to the nursery school, I learned that the kindergarten teacher had been called upon to translate in the clinic since the designated translators were MIA. I was sent to the kindergarten classroom to help the teacher. To my great surprise, I was handed a pointer as the teacher took a seat in the back of the room.One counting/spelling lesson and an out of control worksheet completion later, I had affirmed my one-time statement that I would never teach elementary school. It was lunch time and I gladly escaped to the house where the group was congregating over ground-nut paste & jelly sandwiches. After hearing about the overwhelmed state of the clinic, I thought perhaps I would be of greater use in the swamped clinic. I found it relatively deserted, wo I meandered over to the makeshift pharmacy, or collection of medicine-filled trunks enclosing part of the village church where already-examined patients would bring their prescriptions to be filled. I found myself scrambling to find antibiotics & ointments and malaria treatments while trying to decipher the instructions from the Ghanaian pharmacist. WE distributed vitamins and pain relievers to nearly every patient, providing malaria medicine to at least every other.I noticed that many of the people sitting patiently in the chairs and solemnly taking dosage instructions in their native tongue bore peculiar horizontal markings below their eyes on their cheeks. The marks were common almost exclusively to the elderly, and during a lull in the flow of patients I asked the pharmacist what the marks meant. Halfway into my question I noticed identical marks on HIS face, and embarrassed, I prayed that it wasn't an offensive topic. Fortunately, he gladly explained the significance of the identifying tribal markings. Originally, children were cut on their cheeks at six or eight months of age. The orientation and location of the scars then indicated the child's home region and tribe affiliation. He continued, almost regretfully imparting the attitude of the younger generation. They feel the ritual uncivilized, and so it has been almost completely extinguished. His own children, even, are free of the traditional markings. Similarly, the livelihood of the local village had always been fishing until recently the young men and boys opted to go to school instead. Now the tradition is continued only by the old men.All in all, it was look into a culture that, while advancing in technology and prosperity, is slowly losing the face of its heritage -- and consequently, its identity.