Vision Questors and Emergency Travelers June 8, 2010

Two newbie Peace Corps Trainees (PCTs) came to spend five days at a working site, mine. They had been in country all of five days, and got here on their own via public transportation. Tro-tros, shared taxis, etc. So they got here early afternoon, and we walked around the village, brought home cold beer, had a proper dinner, and made an early night of it. They probably hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since they got here. Next day Grace, a runner who has done several marathons, ran early morning, while it was cooler, but she was followed by a whole parade of kids who were fascinated. Then we went to a nearby market town, checked out the (stone-age) internet café, ate Ghanaian food at a chop bar, and got totally soaked by a sudden rain. In bed by nine, but remember it’s dark here by 6:15.

So my cell phone rings at 10:30, which seems like the middle of the night, and Osa is calling to tell me I have a visitor. He is bringing the visitor up the hill. I’m thinking it’s some crazy friend who came to surprise me (I can always hope), but it is five women loaded down with produce and other market goods. They had purchased goods at a village beyond us, on a very treacherous road, and were on their way to Accra when their vehicle lost its steering and went over the side. They made their way, carrying all the market goods, a couple of kilometers to town, where someone took them to Osa who then brought them to the guest house. Great hubbub on the porch outside the room where the newbies were sleeping. The women were telling Osa what happened, and he was translating for me in English, but everybody was very voluble and Osa kept saying how lucky they were to be alive. It was Grace that saved them, he kept saying, great Christian that he is. Only by Grace are they alive, and etc. Meanwhile PCT Grace, who doesn’t understand any of this, hears a lot of shouting and hears her name over and over. She is afraid she has broken some taboo of the village and they have come to complain. She ran in shorts, could that be it? Maybe she said something wrong to one of the children? Osa and I scramble around to get mattresses so they can share one room; they were pretty traumatized and didn’t want to be separated. And probably had enough money for only one room, since they were on their way TO market, not from. But we finally have them settled in for the night, and the newbies creep out to find out what was going on. Great confusion, many explanations, and much laughter. Poor Grace, however, has pumped so much worry-induced adrenaline that she can’t get back to sleep, the roosters start right on time, and soon it’s time to get started on the rest of the quest.

We go to the Bead Market in Kofaridua, visit the living quarters of another PCV and another village where jewelry is made from the beads, have chicken and real vegetables for late lunch, and call it a day. (But it was a 15-hour day, at least, and all done on tros.) Next day they did bucket laundry, some Peace Corps home work, and Osa took them on a three-hour Cocoa Tour. Everybody got overheated, which only confirmed their love for the bucket bath. Patience made us a splendid dinner of Ghanaian recipes that Westerners like, and the next day they headed out on their own to make their way to the PC Training Hub in Kukurantumi.