Ghana is Home

I know I have not been blogging as much as I once was. It is coming from the simple fact that nothing about Ghana is that fascinating anymore. I have been here long enough for Ghana to have become like home. Each morning the roosters wake me at about 5:30 a.m. I stretch. I lay there until 6:00 a.m. I get up, strap on my dirty, well-worn, tennis shoes and take a 2 mile jog around Kakumado. The locals wave at me. I say good morning in Fante. They laugh. They like me a little bit for trying. I come home and eat breakfast. One of two options. Oatmeal. Eggs and Toast. I then take a quick bucket bath. Cold water. I am well awake. I go to the kitchen and make my lunch. Steamed veggies. I get dressed and head to whatever school I am going to teach history in. This week I have been teaching in a high school. I say something unlike what their teachers say. They learn. They laugh. The students like me. I like them. A lot. I eat my packed lunch. School ends. I go to town and buy a few things. Fruits. Veggies. For lunch tomorrow. I buy some grilled beef of the street. It is good. Too salty. The market ladies teach me Fante. I repeat what they say. They laugh. It is hot. I take a cab. The cab driver trys to over charge me. I yell "BULLSHIT!" at his price. He laughs. He charges me like the locals. We are friends. I get in the cab. I get home. Read. Alice Walker "In search of our mothers gardens". Gabrielle and Christina call. They have made FuFu and I am invited. I eat at their house. I have fun. I leave late. Very late. I walk home. I am scared. I run home. I take a bucket bath. Warm water. I love it. I hold a group meeting. I brush my teeth with bottled water. I go to bed. I do it all again the next day. I am happy. I am loving it. Next time, you should come with me...