Rising and Setting With the Sun

Off the Accra to Kumasi road begins a paved road towards Boumadumasi. The pavement is deceiving; for once you reach the top of the first bend a dirt road awaits you. The taxi ride with four people in the back seat always gives my insides a good shaking as we hit the potholes and water puddles on our ride to Bouma. In fact, my body has begun to resist, opting rather to take the two-mile walk on foot. The walk is a peaceful one: Plantain trees and corn crop tower far above me, occasionally making way for the scenic landscape in the distance.

Walking into town at 7am makes me feel late and lazy. Children skip energetically in their bright yellow uniforms. Storeowners sweep vigorously, sending the dust back to the road it came from. Vats of water are carried atop heads to their respective homes, vegetables are neatly arranged into piles for selling and oil is heated to start frying yams. If I didn’t know better I would think it was the middle of the day.

I am now more synchronized with the village; I rise and set with the sun. In a place where electricity comes and goes at its leisure and water is accessible for all at a central pump, the sun is more than your friend; it is your protector, caretaker and provider. Now my eyes open at 6am and start to droop around 7pm.

As I hit the two-month mark in rural Ghana, I realize and have come to respect my own limitations. Reluctantly I admit that I am an American, raised in a comfortable environment with all amenities available at my fingertips. Never have I had to fetch the water I use to wash my body, the dishes and my clothes. For each drop fetched I sweat a couple more. A sink is so commonplace that I never once stopped to appreciate it’s worth. To think, all these years I just stacked my dirty dishes in there, spit my toothpaste out in there, rest my soap conveniently next to the handle. I can’t do that now and I miss the sink. And, of course: electricity. Thank you Benjamin Franklin if it was, in fact, you who discovered it flying a kite. To have light at night, a computer to type on, a phone to call family to has become invaluable to me. Once again, I never anticipated a life without these things.


From these reflections begs the question as to why I’ve come here. Why I have opted for a circumstance so extremely different, no difficult, compared to mine. My thoughts are two fold: one for myself and one for others.

I don’t care what explanation someone gives for volunteering, there is always a selfish component. It is there so I think it is worth acknowledging. In this case my selfish gains are perspective on the world greater than myself and appreciation for so much I take for granted in day-to-day life. Beyond these things, is hearty nourishment for my soul from being surrounded by such enriching company. In simplicity lies truth, there isn’t enough “stuff” to hide behind or distract one’s self with. You see real people, talk a real talk and are forced to acknowledge and accept the environment around you. I do spend time with the stray cat, countless chickens and corn crop everyday…brushing my teeth.

The second part is for the work. The education we go through to become a doctor compared to how we are utilized (at least as Pediatrician’s in the US) are so incongruent. It is hard to justify that giving someone cough syrup or convincing a parent a child doesn’t need antibiotics is the richest career I can have. Coming to rural Ghana has reignited this drive to figure out exactly how a snake bite is treated or what not to miss when treating Malaria. Additionally it pushes me to expand my medical knowledge for a greater purpose: education, education, education. Educating communities on having healthier children, on decreasing Malaria and controlling their hypertension seems to have a much larger and satisfying impact than treating sniffles (unless, of course it is Syphillis…I’m a nerd, I know). Not to mention that the clinic closes at 3pm (a perfect working day finish time).

As the three remaining hours of sunlight last, we wrap up our daily duties. Knowing I have no where to go, no one to report to or any TV shows to watch, I accept my current reality and prepare to shut down not too long after the sun sets.