Landing on Two Feet In Ghana

Once in a rare while has life presented a moment where I step back and think, “Wow! This is happening to me.” Two days ago I felt that.

I departed Accra (the capital of Ghana) by bus en route to Huttel Clinic. I was told that if I follow the map to the nearby town, Duampompo, it will get me within a 5 minute taxi drive of the clinic. It wasn’t on the map.

Rest assured the bus driver guaranteed he would drop me off there. Who am I to doubt him? I said a long hard prayer to God that morning with a little reminder, “I am in your hands today.”

My bus was quite cozy. I got a seat by the window with the seat next to me open for my excessive things to unravel and breathe for a minute. It was not long before I saw the bus piling up at our next stop. My things reluctantly resumed their condensed positions back in my backpack; my backpack reluctantly resumed its position on my lap. Low and behold, just the largest lady took that open seat next to me. Not only was my spare seat gone, but part of my own seat as well.

“Patience. Flexiblity. Openess. Acceptance.” I repeated to myself.

“Good afternoon,” she told me.

I concurred.

We exchanged a few kind words. I was quick to disclose my journey to this remote location off the typical Accra to Kumasi route.

“You are new here? Welcome to my country!” she proclaimed.

What a sweet woman! She could share as much of my space as she liked. At points our bodies nuzzled into each other; one nudging elbow permissive and relaxing towards the other. I had to, in fact, hold back from leaning on her shoulder and nodding off.
I asked her if she spoke Twi. “Yes, of course!”

She did not hesitate to start teaching me Twi. “Go on, say Medasi (thank you) to the driver when you get off,” she said.

We were 4 hours into the bus drive and I was just finding my comfort zone when the bus halted. I looked around for any identifiers: No city. No town. Just farmland.

I looked up. The driver was looking at me. “This is you,” he said.

I hesitated to depart from my new best friend. I looked at her longingly. “Remember to say Medasi!” she smiled and chuckled.

The driver unloaded my embarrassing, ginormous pile of bags on to the dirt road. Around me gathered three women. They were clucking in Twi and I was staring at them with my eyes crossed and probably the dumbest smile across my face.

So I was dropped in the middle of rural Africa. I stood there thinking: ‘Wow, this is actually happening to me.’ There was only one thing left to say: “Medasi.” Smile. “Medasi.”

One of these kind women read my mind and fetched me a taxi. I, being MonaVarsh and being a Puri, found myself negotiating a cab fair with no leverage, 4 bags, no clue as to where I was nor how far I needed to go. I quickly realized- his price was the right price. We drove about 32 seconds before we pulled to the side and four men piled into the back seat. With a Twi vocabulary of one word, I hugged my backpack tight and sent God a reminder “Medasi for looking out for me today?” Two miles down a bumpy, dirt road we pulled into a pink clinic.

I would be lying if I didn’t say there was an element of shock to what I had enlisted myself for. The clinic is small and basic compared to the luxuries we take for granted at home. However, the love and intent with which it was built was apparent on first glance.

My room is in humble conditions though it has shaped up quite nicely. I will take bucket baths, use an outhouse style toilet and wash my clothes myself. What actually pulled me out of my state of shock are the people with which I live. I look around and see my neighbor, Jan. Not only did she quietly, but dutifully arrange my room and bed for me when I arrived, she cooks and shares her food with me on a daily basis. Jan wakes up daily, preps herself very respectfully and is timely for work. Every time I pass her room I notice that it is maintained in a very tidy fashion. Her sandals are religiously removed prior to stepping into her room. Why, if Jan can live in these standards comfortably, should not I? Especially when realizing that the standards of the clinic rooms are significantly better than the poorer surrounding villagers.

Today I busted out the old school India squat and broom and swept my place clean. I squatted and, probably rather inefficiently, washed our dishes. Before I could huff or puff to myself I looked up to see Jan carrying a bucket of water retrieved from the well on her head for us (she did this three times by the way)!

It is strange how perspective changes so quickly. But my room is cozy now. It is dust free now. It is mosquito, cockroach and bug free! I have my host of books (including a Cecil’s and Nelson’s), a comfy little couch to lay on, space to yoga it up and, of course, Jan as my neighbor.

Jan is one of the four nurses assistants who work at the clinic along with MaVic, the very gracious nurse in charge. I will be speaking Twi before I leave primarily because they won’t be speaking to me if I don’t. These five ladies are just wonderful. They greeted me and continue to receive me with open hearts, generosity and authenticity. They only make me reflect on the kind of world I have been living in that I expect the opposite. A world devoid of contempt, animosity and competition has a calming effect on the soul. Granted I am three days in, we’ll see what 6 weeks down the road has in store for me…

Next up patients, population and providing care in limited resources.