You Are Welcome

My first few weeks in Kpando I was introduced to loads of people and almost every time I met someone new they would say "You're welcome." Immediately I thought, "Oh no I didn't say 'Thank you', was I supposed to say thank you?? Am I being rude? Why are they telling me you're welcome when I didn't say thank you" As these panicky thoughts ran through my mind at every instance I would just awkwardly smile and giggle. About a week ago I realized that they are saying, "You are welcome." As in, "you are welcome here in Africa, here in Ghana, here in Kpando, you are welcome here in this community, my community." In which the proper response would be a smile and a thank you. I guess I am so used to the exchange of "Thank you and You're welcome" back in the states that it threw me off every time I heard some one say "you are welcome" after meeting me. I never really sat back and pondered the meaning of the exchange, but now that I have, I think it makes more sense the way the Ghanaian people do it...

You are welcome.
Thank you!

So this weekend I found out that Ghanaians really LOVE to party! Funerals here are a big deal, tons and tons of people attend, the family saves for months and they last 4 days! This particular funeral was for a woman and her mother in the compound across the dirt path from my home and it was quite the affair! They were close friends of Mary and Peter. The girl was 35, finishing up her masters at Cape Coast University and complained of chest pains, she went to the hospital they gave her an injection and she went into a coma, I think she was probably allergic to the medicine. Her mother, who lived across the road from where I live was told the news and collapsed a week later.

The funeral for both of them was held last weekend and was a full on celebration. There were probably 800 people in town for it! Cars and vans and buses lined both sides of the street. On Friday afternoon, the family and friend pick up the bodies from the hospital and play drums and trumpets as they caravan down the main street in Kpando, dancing, crying and shouting praises the whole while. During this part of the ceremony is also when the friends and family mourn, and boy they REALLY mourn...outbursts of sobbing, murderous screams, wailing and flailing, they don't hold anything back, which I think is healthy..."Get it all out girl, get it all out," I thought to myself while witnessing one woman mourn. But during the funeral ceremony there is a great deal of celebration as well. They were playing drums and doing the traditional bo bo bo dance until the better part of 5am Saturday morning. They had at least three bands and everyone, the men especially were DRUNK! I pulled out my trusty CVS first aid kit (which I have used at least three times every day here) and patched up several cuts and scrapes on drunk mens faces. Where almost every time there was a marriage proposal.

My bed time around here is usually 8pm. I am SO TIRED everyday I just pass out. When I tried to go to sleep Friday night it never happened because of the blaring music (my door and window face directly where the celebration was happening.) SO I decided that I would join the fun!I went to the shop to help Patience (my sister) serve alcohol. At about 1am Peter, my cute sweet dad around 57 years old, (who was also hammered) insisted that he take me "downtown" to get a drink with his brother who had just arrived from the Northern region (a 12 hour journey). Downtown was all of a two minute walk to a shack with a blue light. We chatted about Barrack Obama, Ghanaian royalty (my family is the royal family here...which I like to think makes me a princess!) and stole chairs from a drunk who passed out at the table next to us.

After we drank our huge beers Peter grabbed my hand as we stumbled back to the party. They tried to teach me to bo bo bo dance (specific to Kpando), which is basically bending over and shaking your booty while in a moving circle around men playing the drums and trumpet. Then we paid our respects to the bodies and viewed the corpses. This, for me, was by far the most strange part of the ceremony. Mainly because everyone who went into that room to pay their respects was at least four sheets to the wind! After viewing the corpses you take a shot of palm wine (so gross and like 100% alcohol) and continue to dance. I went back to helping patience in the store until about 3am then called it a night, but they were still going!

At about 6am they transported all of the chairs and tents to the church of the deceased, which must have been a lot of work because there were tons of chairs and at least six tents. I went to the actual funeral mass Saturday morning with Mary...it was very sad, they are survived by one brother. I thought I was going to pass out because I was under the noon sun, dressed in black and I thought hungover! But I later found out it was because I had Malaria.

Don't freak out, because I am fine now, but being sick is never fun, whether you are in Texas, Ghana or Switzerland. It just brings out the worst in you and you never really feel yourself when you are sick! That is the reason this post is so late because I have been ill this past week. So I went to the hospital on Monday when I had an on and off fever, headaches, chills and terrible stomach pains. (I am taking anti-malaria meds and sleeping under a mosquito net, but there is nothing that 100% guarantees you won't get Malaria.) I am friends with Jones, one of the Pharmacists at the hospital and he made it his job to make sure I was O.K. and taken care of properly. I think I got faster treatment here than I have anywhere back home.

There were several people waiting on the benches to be seen. I told Jones and James that I wanted to wait in line because it wasn't fair that I cut in front just because I was white. They looked at me like I was stupid and completely ignored my request. Next thing I know I am ushered into a room with a nurse taking my temperature and blood pressure. I tell my symptoms to a nice Cuban woman doctor and then she ordered a blood test. I go to the lab, they take a sample and it turns up negative for Malaria. They take me back to the Cuban woman and she says that I have all the symptoms of Malaria, so the bacteria must be premature and not showing up on the lab work and she wants to treat me anyway.

Off to the injection room we go, which is no bigger than a small pantry. Again I asked to wait in line, but another Cuban doctor, took my hand, told me he was paying for my medicines and took me into the injection room. In the room there was another nurse, a mother and two little girls. One girl screaming as the nurse administered a shot right in her buttocks! I was thankful it wasn't me because injections in the ass hurt the most!

The Cuban doctor fills up the syringe with the meds and as I start to roll up my shirt sleeve he gives me a smile and says, "Around, its for your butt." UGH I think, but if it will make me feel better its worth it. I didn't get one injection, but two...one in each cheek. I was so glad it was over, but little did I know that there were two more of those I had to take for the next two days. Painful? yes. Worth it? Hell yes! I finished my treatment on Wednesday and feel like a new woman today! No more stomach pains, headaches or fevers! TAKE THAT Malaria!!!!!

Sorry it was long!
Peace and Love from Africa