But fear not, I am (mostly) better now. I've been seen by a doctor (that is a story deserving about three blog posts of its own). And I am back at home in Logba now, resting and doing everything I'm told to fully recover.
For those who aren't familiar with sachet water, in Ghana, tap water is generally not considered potable, so you get your drinking water in 0.5L plastic sachets, tear off a corner, and drink it from the bag. Sachet water is really not a bad thing (the alternative is expensive plastic bottles of the exact same water), but it can sometimes be a bit iffy. So now we are only purchasing the ones with the official stamp of approval from Ghana's certification board, even though locally that particular type is considered inferior (most people here drink rain water, aka 'God's blessing,' but nobody will let me).
The sun definitely can disturb me, but as long as I'm left to my own devices my shade-seeking behavior and thick layer of coconut oil is usually enough to prevent any suffering. There have been occasions when well-meaning friends have not quite understood that when I say the sun is too much I'm not joking... After one particularly long day at the university and a late-afternoon of trying to find shade in an utterly shade-free marketplace while shopping for ingredients, a friend laughed that the sun was too much for me and teased me for looking so miserable. The next day he asked why there were bruises on my face. I said, "They're not bruises! It's sunburn." The level of melanin in my skin is not quite up to the task of dealing with West Africa's sun for prolonged periods in the same way as most of (all of) my friends here.
So, next time I see a West African in the UK (or a Californian in Washington...) who looks very unhappy about the weather I will remind myself of this experience and be as supportive as I can, saying, "Oh, my friend. I can see that you are suffering."
And I will definitely not tease them!
For the full story of last week's adventures, stay tuned. I'm still not up to 100% energy levels, and it's a challenging story to write, but I will do what I can to put it into a blog-ready format soon.
In the mean time...
And, by popular request, here is where I am located on the map (since you won't find it by doing a Google Search):
In case you're curious, here is the officially compiled list, as has been explained to me, of:
Reasons Why Lydia Got Ill- "You, you don't relax."
"Yes I do! I make cups of tea and go for walks when I'm studying to take breaks."
"No. That is not relaxing! You must sit. And enjoy your life. You are working too hard." - Drinking sachet water
- "The sun is disturbing you."
I think a variant of this is... - "Ah, it's the weather."
- Riding a motorbike.*
This is accompanied with an exasperated, "The roads here are not good!"
(*I'm sorry, Mom! It was against my will. And luckily, now that it's on the official list of Reasons Lydia Got Ill, I have a support team who will back me up when I say I will not ride a motorbike...) - Malaria
- Eating peanuts past dinner time (morning and afternoon are apparently fine times to eat them, though)
So, you can pick your favorites.
For those who aren't familiar with sachet water, in Ghana, tap water is generally not considered potable, so you get your drinking water in 0.5L plastic sachets, tear off a corner, and drink it from the bag. Sachet water is really not a bad thing (the alternative is expensive plastic bottles of the exact same water), but it can sometimes be a bit iffy. So now we are only purchasing the ones with the official stamp of approval from Ghana's certification board, even though locally that particular type is considered inferior (most people here drink rain water, aka 'God's blessing,' but nobody will let me).
The sun definitely can disturb me, but as long as I'm left to my own devices my shade-seeking behavior and thick layer of coconut oil is usually enough to prevent any suffering. There have been occasions when well-meaning friends have not quite understood that when I say the sun is too much I'm not joking... After one particularly long day at the university and a late-afternoon of trying to find shade in an utterly shade-free marketplace while shopping for ingredients, a friend laughed that the sun was too much for me and teased me for looking so miserable. The next day he asked why there were bruises on my face. I said, "They're not bruises! It's sunburn." The level of melanin in my skin is not quite up to the task of dealing with West Africa's sun for prolonged periods in the same way as most of (all of) my friends here.
So, next time I see a West African in the UK (or a Californian in Washington...) who looks very unhappy about the weather I will remind myself of this experience and be as supportive as I can, saying, "Oh, my friend. I can see that you are suffering."
And I will definitely not tease them!
For the full story of last week's adventures, stay tuned. I'm still not up to 100% energy levels, and it's a challenging story to write, but I will do what I can to put it into a blog-ready format soon.
In the mean time...
So you can have a better idea of where I am living, here is an evening-time photo of the road going through the Logba Traditional Area:
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| Logba Alakpeti as seen from the road from Accra looking towards Hohoe in the North. |
And, by popular request, here is where I am located on the map (since you won't find it by doing a Google Search):
View Larger Map
How to wash your hair in a bucket bath
Lastly, I'm sorry I left you all hanging about how to wash hair in a bucket bath! Turns out my Grammy spoke the truth all along. Grammy always told us how her mother used to wash Grammy's naturally-curly, red hair (which is now bright snowy white) in rain water when she was a kid growing up in North Dakota. And sure enough, rain water solves the 'can't get the shampoo out of your hair' problem quite well. The tap water here comes from a bore hole and has lots of salt in it, so I'm told. Someone with faster internet and a better understanding of hair chemistry can provide a more detailed explanation, I'm sure. But it works!
The other trick is to use local soap, which is made out of burnt cocoa pods and locally-produced oils of various types (I'm fairly certain palm oil is one of them). My colleague, Cephas, has a nicely transcribed video of some women from the Likpe area further north of here explaining the process in Sekpele, a language closely related to Ikpana. Cephas is from Likpe and doing language documentation work in the area for his PhD now.
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| alata samina, one type of local soap, wrapped in paper. Apologies for the lack of scale. It's a lump about the size of a grapefruit, and is very soft. |
That's all for now! If you simply can't wait for my next blog post, I invite you to read this one from the last time I was told I had malaria while living in rural Ghana: http://lydia-goes-abroad.blogspot.com/2009/10/tomorrow-or-two-weeks-in-rural-ashanti.html
I'm always happy to hear from any of you, with requests for topics to cover or with stories from your own life adventures. My greetings from Ghana!
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