Making the Mortaaaaaah (and a Tribute to Diet Coke)

Steven has explained about the arduous process of mixing mortar in the really hot sun, and the awesome guy from Humjibre, Vincent, who helped us out.  Below are a few fun pictures I took from inside the house while Steven and Vincent were mixing it up outside:

Also, this may be one of my favorite pictures from the build site.  Our build team member, Belva, had been jonesing for Diet Coke the entire time.  By the second week, she thought all hope was lost, as our local coordinator told her that there was no Diet Coke closer than Kumasi, a 2.5 hour drive away.  But on a sneaky trip with our driver to Kumasi, Naomi managed to snag Belva some Diet Coke cans and, for added brownie points, had managed to cool it down on the trip back to the site!  I have never seen anyone so excited for a can of soda before.  She looks positively triumphant. 

10 Things We Never Knew About Each Other

We're on board our supposedly cancelled flight and awaiting take off. Case thought it would be fun to do a 10 things we learned about each other. You get all the benefits. We'll try to keep it clean.

Steven:
1. She can sleep anywhere, anytime, in any position. Most likely her mouth will be open. She doesn't like being photographed at this time. Haven't figured out why yet.

2. She has everything you'll ever want or need. With her. Everywhere. She possesses multiple magical bags of holding.

3. Her freezer is broken. If you remind her of this fact she'll grunt and run for water. Oh wait. That's a grass cutter. KC just puts her head down on the table in defeat.

4. When she sunburns you can cook eggs on her legs and forehead.

5. KC sings waltzes and orchestral suites when in elevated areas when death is possible. Seems to be the same time you should never trust an Australian?

6. She's not turned on by eastern European accents. We never got to decide what accent did.

7. I kind of already knew this but KC has all the music you'll ever want or need. And it's always good and mostly appropriate. Except when depressing Bon Iver songs come on in the midst of exciting card games.

8. KC needs to start living like she did in college. She did some crazy stuff in college. She needs more of that.

9. KC uses her arms to pretend to be things. Mostly windows, doors and cacti. And making fun of really crazy people. That seems to be the bulk of her repertoire.

10. KC likes to talk about wearing no pants. She likes trying to convince other people and saying she should herself. She doesn't ever do it though. I think she needs more encouragement. We should all make that happen.

Casey:
Well, amazingly, Steven and I are still getting along, traveling smoothly together, and even still laughing at each other's jokes. We have shared seats on the bus, beer, biscuits, bathrooms, and pretty much everything else that could lead two people to kill each other after two weeks of travel. Happy to report, we are both still very
much alive.

So here are ten interesting things that I have learned about Steven on this trip:

1. He tans as much as I burn. The back of his neck is almost the same
color as his hair at this point!

2. Steven really, really loves music from every cheesy teenage girl
show (think Dawson's Creek)
It's true. His iPod is full of it. He was even able to identify, upon request, the Grey's Anatomy episode and scene from which a song came.

3. Steven HATES mosquitos. He was all about closing doors and checking screens

4. Steven can headbutt a soccer ball. Wait, is it headball a soccer ball? Obviously, I haven't mastered soccer .. I mean football... terminology

5. Steven has a gnarly scar on his leg that I just found out happened in some convoluted altercation between his bike and two cars. It's pretty tough-looking.

6. Steven loves British biscuits of any kind, but his favorite are called Hobnobs.

7. Steven prefers a small trowel. That's all I am going to say about that.

8. Steven wears a Swatch watch. I thought those were a relic of the 80's. I was "proven wrong". He also sometimes wears pegged, stonewashed jeans with his Swatch. (okay, now I am kidding)

9. Steven likes to try strange and sometimes disgusting drinks, like K20 whiskey-in-a-sachet and Ghanaian lemon Fanta that is a trippy chartreuse color. He also makes funny faces as soon as he swallows these concoctions and realizes that no liquid that you put in your mouth should be chartreuse.

10. Steven is an acupuncturist who will admit that he doesn't know exactly how or why sticking needles in people makes them feel better or have more babies. This was acceptable to the other guys on our Habitat team until they found out that he sometimes puts needles near men's ... junk... then they were not okay with it anymore

There you go. 10 things that you may or may not have known about my
wonderful and hard-working Habitat companion.

Mallrats

By Casey

Instructions from the Accra Mall management to Casey in the washroom.

Casey, being a lawyer, of course followed all instructions. Indeed, the seat was very clean.

By Steven

So, when you arrive at the airport after traveling 2 weeks, driving 4 hours from your previous town, what happens to you when the board says on time on every flight but yours. And yours says cancelled.

Needless to say the flights here and appears fine. Someone's having good fun in the monitor control booth.

Finally, Casey's best line of the da: "my legs are so sunburned. They're so hot you can fry an egg on my legs". I felt them. They're pretty damn hot. It's an Obruni problem.

Sign Language: "Please sit on the pot. It is very clean"

CASEY GETS HER FIRST SUNBURN

By casey

I bet you all thought this post would come sooner than my last day in Ghana. I have been religious (and my build team may even say I was a
fanatic) about my SPF 55 coverage. I ground the stuff into my arms when they were covered with mortar, I slathered it back onto my nose as soon as it dripped off with sweat, and I was often known to ask others if they had put theirs on!

Alas, this morning, our last in Ghana, was a beautiful and bue-skied beach heaven. I SPFed to my heart's desire and went out to the pool with Steven to enjoy our last few hours in Elmina. We laid out, walked down the beach one last time, took a quick dip, and then went in to pack up. That's when I discovered that the SPF had finally failed me, in long uneven streaks on my knees and thighs and one strange stripe on my forearm. Oh well. At least it is one good reminder of why I
should go back to the temperate climate in the States. I obviously was
not built for equatorial climates.

And on the bright side, my legs will be toasty warm (read: burning up!) on the chiily ride home.

The last 24 hours of ghana have been a final breath of relaxation before we hit the ground running back in the states. Yesterday afternoon, after a day of toruing all over the town of Elmina, we took a few hours of quiet by the pool, drinking Coke and Savanna. We had bragged to the remaining members of our Habitat team in Elmina that our hotel had the best food we had tasted. And we gave them directions for how to get to us by walking down the beach right around dusk.

Steven and I sat reading on the porch, me with my trusty headlamp lighting the pages of my book. Being the worrier that I am, I kept picking my head up from my book to give a look up and down the beach, waiting for our friends to arrive. Suddenly, Steven looks at me and says "are you a lighthouse???" I was totally confused, until I realized that every time I did my head pickup, full beach panoramic
swivel, I did pretty much give off a beacon to anything out on the water. Oops.

Soon enough, Belva's head popped up from the dunes and we all sat together in the restaurant for lobster, fresh grouper, and plenty of Savanna cider to wash it all down. It was delicious and we all enjoyed being together in such a magical nighttime beach spot.

Steven and I closed the night out with distinctly un-African nightcaps. A Tia Maria for him and a Malibu and coke for me. Hey, you can take the kids out of America, but you can't always take America out of the kids.

So with full bellies and sunburned legs, we two are in a car inching towards Accra and the airport, where we'll change into our jeans and hoodies for the first time since arriving in Ghana.

Oh. Except we have decided to stop at the Accra Mall on the way there. What is more African than that?

The Harrowing Journey to Coconut Groove

By Steven

Right now we're stuck in nasty traffic heading from our ocean paradise in Elmina back to Accra for our flight, on what must be the first true blue sky day. Whatever humidity or haze or smog was over the country has lifted: the perfect day for my pale companion and I to spend out by the pool and ocean catching some rays and balancing on fallen palm trees. We'll treat the sunburns later.

As I said, our beach is fraught with peril. The night before we had decided to reunion with our Habitat comrades who all happened to be staying down the beach at another hotel. Now when I say down the beach, I mean if we walked on the crazy potholed road it would have been about 2km and taken a bit. On the beach it was only about 1.2 with the tacit understanding that you might get a little wet in the areas where 'sand winning' had occurred. Seemed like a no brainer. I like shortcuts and walks on the beach. I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain too, if you're asking.

As the light was fading we hit the beach and started our adventure. At first all seemed quiet and normal. About 3 or 4 minutes in we saw this dog hanging out at a backpackers inn next door. We waved and continued walking, but soon found we had picked up a tail. We tried walking faster but there was just nowhere to hide. All I could think of was my assistant who got bit by a wild dog in India and yelling at me for not getting a rabies vaccine, and KCs doc with the advice of 'just don't run after any rabid dogs'.

Like veteran movie stars, we walked on, trying to ignore the rabid paparazzi as much as possible. Of course, a few minutes later, we realized our tail had turned to 3. What was our plan? Run into the water if necessary. We were basically walking up to our knees at this point anyway.

Then the obstacle course got trickier. Sea urchins.

For those who don't know, a sea urchin basically looks like a black volcanic rock and a porcupine had a baby. A very spiky baby.

KC: Just don't step on them.
Steven: I think they're poisonous, right?
KC: All I know is if you do I think you're supposed to pee on it. I don't know if our friendship can handle that!

So we quick stepped our way through a minefield of sea urchins. Luckily for us, our canine companions chose not to navigate into the asteroid field. Wait, that was Star Wars. Focus Steven.

After we left the sea urchins and the possibly rabid dogs, we came upon a completely different rabid species ... teenagers.

Ghanaians are seriously friendly. Especially the kids. But the boys, especially as they get older, seem to mock more than be friends. So I was healthily skeptical when two out of this group of ten splashing around a shallow inlet came up asking our names. I told them mine and didn't introduce KC to at least save her some torture. Hand slaps with snap (the ghanaian hand shake) were exchanged and we kept walking to try and get past them. The one kid screamed my name to all the others and for the next five minutes my name must have been repeated 18 times as they jumped up and down in the water.

What I've left out so far is that half of them were bathing in the ocean in their birthday suits. Some parts of Ghana are just poor and somewhat innocent. They just didn't care. KC just kept walking eyes averted and I had to run to keep up.

With our journeys end and the hotel in sight we saw our final obstacle: massive piles of horse poop. Coconut Grove (the hotel) offers horse back riding on the beach and apparently they leave their footprints in multiple ways. Add in pretty rough surf and we had some bobbing and weaving to do.

Poop averted, finally we had arrived; to dine with old friends, reminisce and play ping pong!

The End

Tune in tomorrow for the next Chapter. We return to our hotel along the beach ... in the pitch black of night!

Actually, nothing happened on the way back. Someone must have forgotten to reset the obstacle course. But man was my adrenaline pumping the whole way. Our hotel owner said the next day: "The walk is perfectly safe at night. The only thing you have to worry about is your imagination."

Amen, brother.

Pictures Pictures Pictures

By Steven

I spent a lot of time yesterday playing with the new iPhoto on my iPad. Before leaving I got an eyefi card for my old Casio and eyefi has a new app that lets you sync wirelessly to the iPad without a wifi connection. It actually creates its own LAN by powering on your camera and you can sync between the two. It's slow, but better than needing a cable and an adapter.

Below is a link to a page for 'Journals' as Apple is dubbing them. One's an oldie from the Outer Banks, the other is my Humjibre pics from my Casio. All the pics posted to the blog so far have just been iPhone snags.

It's a fun layout. Just click any image to enlarge it.

Journals

BEACHES AND JUNGLES AND MONKEYS, OH MY!

By Casey

On Wednesday morning, the band broke up. We started the morning with
breakfast in Bekwai, loaded up the big bus and retaced our steps through the Ashanti region back to Kumasi. At that point, on the side of the road next to a busy traffic circle, four different groups
splintered off... Some going straight back at Accra to catch flights
home, some off for a little more adventure (for one member of the team, Adam, he was catching a flight to Thailand to do another Habitat build... What fun!). Steven and I met up with our Humjibre driver Hodge, who was going to be taking us down to our R&R spot in Elmina Bay. The two of us rode together in the big van, snacking on biscuits and looking back every once in a while at the three empty rows of seats behind us where for the last couple of weeks, 14 of us had
squeezed our mortary, sweaty bodies back and forth to the build site.

After a 3.5 hour drive through beautiful foothills and mountains, hodge delivered us safely to the Elmina Bay Resort. It's gorgeous. A series of two-story pavilions overlooking the ocean, with a great pool and restaurant right up against the water. And I am not just talking beach view... last night at dinner, I was sitting with my back to the ocean and at some point recall asking Steven to warn me if a wave was coming over the railing. Mostly, though, the proximity of the ocean is
a cautionary tale and a sad reminder of how Africa and traditional African obstinancy can ruin a great thing. Our hosts, Ben and Suzi, explained that Ghanaians have been engaged in the practice of "sand winning," which is basically taking dump truck loads of sand from the local beaches to make bricks or sell for construction. A little bit of this practice would probably be fine, and could even be regulated in a
way that benefits both the economy and the beaches. But, between 40 and 50 truckloads per day have been "won" from the beach around Ben and Suzi's, and as a result, they have lost 30 meters of beachfront. It's absurd! I didn't quite realize how much that was until Suzi showed us a photo of the restaurant and pool area from 14 months ago. The restaurant used to front on a long, broad sand beach where now it is basically cantilevered over the crashing waves. A gazebo that used to sit on the edge of the same sand beach has now fallen into the ocean. I am not always a strident environmentalist, but given my family history and my grandfather's
commitment to ocean preservation, I feel deeply for Ben and Suzi and their fight to save their little spot of heaven.

In any case, the hotel is lovely. We reveled in the small luxuries
that we had been missing in Humjibre:

Cold drinks

Cool breeze

Showers

Hot water

Fresh fish

Elmina really is a cool little spot. Our hotel is about 5k from the center of town, but this stretch of beach is quiet and beautiful. Right next door to our proprty is a thatched-roof backpackers' lodge called the Stumble Inn, and about 1/2k beyond that is the Coconut Grove resort, which I found out is owned by the family of one of my friends from Princeton! I e-mailed him last night and we had a great
back-and-forth about Elmina, and how small the world is when I am eating my dinner at a hotel that his family owns and runs in Ghana, half a world away. He is currently living in DC, so we will need to meet up and trade stories when I get back.

Yesterday, our adventures included the Kakum National rainforest canopy walk, which is an adventure of long, swinging Indiana Jones suspension bridges that criss-cross the enormous trees of the Kakum rainforest. It was so muc fun, like being a tightrope walker 150 feet above the jungle. We got some great pictures from way high up there and I amused Steven by whistling and humming Strauss waltzes as I
tiptoed across the rocking bridges. It just seemed the perfect soundtrack.

On the way back down to ground level, we came across a man with a pile of coconuts and a machete. For 1 cedi, he would lop the top off of a
coconut for you so you had a 100% fresh, cool in-its-own-container drink. Now I am known to most folks back home to be a terrible hater of coconut water (I think it tastes like feet, to be honest), but this was a totally different experience. Fresh from the nut itself, this stuff was sweet, refreshing and perfectly balanced. And besides, what
is a more appropriate picture than me jauntily hiking down the side of a jungle hill, drinking out of a giant coconut and singing Strauss? Really, just a normal Thursday.

After the canopy wk, we met a Kiwi med student named Jen, went to a
monkey sanctuary run by a crazy (and not the fun kind of crazy) Dutchman, ate lunch at a crocodile farm, and got caught in a downpour. After that set of odd enounters, we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon lounging by the pool, swimming, and walking on the beach.

Every day is an adventure here. How often do I get to say that back home?

I Knew There Was a Vacation Here Somewhere

By Steven

Sorry for the short radio silence. Our last day with Habitat came and went and yesterday was a travel day and all I wanted to do was space out and read Ready Player One (thanks Atul for sharing the addiction) when all was said and done.

Our last build day had it all: mortar slinging, Queen Mothers dancing, k-20 shooting, kids breakdancing, dust up-kicking ... oh you get the picture.

Yesterday morning it was like we'd forgotten everything we'd learned. Gerard (who finally admitted he wasn't a Gerhard after it'd been spelled wrong all over the whole time), Ed and Paul and I only were given this small 10 foot wide outer wall to finish via scaffold. We were sloppy and just couldn't get the wall smooth. Took us 2 hours to do what had been done for days in an hour.

We went to break and kind of felt useless. Not a good way to finish. Then we saw Mark had done the upper part of this massive outer wall (maybe 25 feet) in the same amount of time and on a scaffold. That got us determined. So with 45 mins left, before we had to leave early to get ready for our closing ceremony, we did what Americans do best: mediocrity followed by a grand BIG finish.

We grabbed Kareem and new addition and local Peace core volunteer Raven, Ata Papa (aka Vincent) and Gerard mixed up a massive batch of mortaah and a-slinging we went. I had Mark's über trowel and it was like it all came together. We attacked the bottom part of the huge wall, all 25 feet wide and 10 feet tall (thanks to Kareem and Ed's height); done in 45 mins flat. Now that was an accomplishment.

From there the grand celebration began. They'd set up these huge speakers connected to a desktop with an old school winamp setup and 3 canopies. At first it was like the start of a post war treaty. Humjibre locals under one canopy, the chief under another, and obroni (white people) under the third with a big space in the middle. No one spoke ... till the jams came on. Then the locals started grooving and when people groove, us obroni join in. Every piece of the ceremony where our Habitat head spoke before the chief had a dance off musical interlude between speeches. Definitely how all celebrations should be.

Ribbons were cut, the kids showed us some awesome local dancing which looked like the peppermint twist and many a picture were taken. And the chief smiled. All we needed was the crane to rise the camera above the dancing and the swirling dust and grab a shot of jungle and blue sky for the Hollywood close.

Fast forward the Habitat hugs and goodbyes as we all went our separate ways and somehow KC and I are back at the coast, shells collected, feet dipped and back for adventure to a high walk through coastal jungle canopy.

Fade to black. Cue Israel Kamakawiwo'ole.

BUILD A HOUSE, EARN A BLESSING

By Casey

Just like our last day in Humjibre today, this post is going to be split into three parts.

1. Same, same
We woke up on our normal build day schedule today. Brush teeth, slather sunscreen, boots and work clothes on, layer 2 of sunscreen, spray bug spray, take malaria pills, head to breakfast with the team.

On our way to the build site, we all had the odd feeling that this was the last time we would be taking this journey, and we were all a little subdued. But once on site (and with the nicest and coolest weather we've had yet), we set off to the three different houses to
finish as much as we could before the dedication ceremony. I had a great build day. Frank, the most critical artisan on site, sized me up this morning and said "you finish the front, girlfriend". Right. Apparently he had picked up on Mark's favorite nickname for me. So after picking off the bottom of the front pillar of the house, I realized it was me v. the front archway of the house. Me, my trowel, an endless basin of mortar, and a scaffold that had been nailed together on site five minutes earlier. Ok, girlfriend, time to prove what you've learned from these Ghanaian dudes! On went my gloves, up went the first full basin of mortar balanced on my head down the hill, and up I climbed onto thjat bouncy, shaky scaffold. But after these
days of frustration, my mortar game was spot-on today. Within a half-hour, I had completed nearly half of the front archway and was slinging mortart up into the high reaches of the ceiling edge just like the artisans. At some point, I looked down and found all of the artisans (except Frank, who was slinging mud on the othe side of the
archway) standing below looking on to the "Obruni girlfriend". When, as Frank taught me, I let out a high-decibel call for "motaaaaahhhhh"(mortar call), he came around to my scaffold smiling and said "You are a hard-working girl.". Finally. The biggest compliment I could imagine.

Of course, then proceeded a discussion amongst the artisans and
collected friends on whether I was, in fact, a hard-working "girl" or whether I was a hard-working "woman.". I let them guess my age for a while. They had me pegged as 29, which apparently is just under the cut-off for girl, so I had to break down and admit that I was actually properly called "hard-working woman.". Which again sparked the discussion of why I was not married, and who amongst them should be the one to marry me and move with me to America. I'll tell you,
Ghanaian men are great for the ego. After finishing the marriage discussion- including some suggestions from the artisans on why I should marry Ghanaian men (good dancing and many sheep were two of the
main highlights) _ and also finishing the archway mortaring, I headed up to our last lunch with the team.

2. After lunch, we all piled back into the minibus, needing to do a
thorough mortar removal and sweat screening process before the afternoon's celebration. A couple of hours later, we returned to Humjibre, dressed in our finest, to find a full-village party underway, featuring none other than us! Ceremonial tents were
erected, chairs were dusted off and arranged, a DJ was spinning some
local tunes, and most of the village's children (which tops out around 150 or so, I would guess) eagerly greeted us. The chief and his entire entourage of elders and advisors processed towards us up the hill, under giant colorful fabric parasols, coming to witness the
celebration. The Queen Mother (the chief's sister and the ever-important matrilineal head of the family) presented each of our team with a beautiful hand-embroidered Ghanaian sash with each of our names stitched in.

Post-pomp, the entire conglomeration headed to one of the houses we had finished (the one upon which I had been slathering mortar that
very morning!) and we held a ribbon-cutting with the Queen Mother. I
was right up front with her and when she held out the scissors to cut the ribbon, she firmly took my hand and placed it on top of hers. We
together cut the ribbon and, looking in at the smooth floors and high stucco walls of that house, I was proud. That house is something tangible. That house will be there for 30 years. And though I didn't put my handprint in the cement like I was tempted to, my handprints and footprints are already all over it.

I will let Steven comment and post pictures on the next couple of hours, which consisted mainly of us Obrunis dancing like crazy people with swarms of Humjibre kids, doing a shot of whiskey with the artisans, and then sitting down to dinner with our whole team, all of the Humjibre artisans, and all of the local Habitat executives. Regina and Nancy, our cooks, must have had a soft spot for our team on our last day, because they went all out on our feast, presenting dish after dish of our favorites from the last 10 days: dirty rice, spicy tomato sauce, vegetable salad, fried chicken, the most amazing homemade french fries, spicy red sauce, and mini banana doughnuts.

Yup, you heard me. Banana doughnuts. I have never eaten or heard of anything like them back home, but they are out of this world.

Full and more than a little nostalgic already, we said our goodbyes to all of the Humjibre-ians and boarded our bus in the dusk for our last ride through the village. The village kids gave us an amazing send-off, running alongside the bus and waving as we left.

3. Shortest and sweetest section of the day. Back at the hotel, we got our briefing for tomorrow... Breakfast at 6am, departure at 7am back towards Accra. The main group gathered on the hotel porch one more time to drink some Coke and Ghanaian beer and play one last, long round of cards. Then off to pack (or blog in my case) and figure out one last time how to shampoo really long hair with a trickle.

At one point at dinner tonight, at the long communal outdoor table, I was sitting next to Steven and I said "turn around and look behind you.". Her did, and we both realized that we had really done it. Our vacation panorama was the normal sundown activities in a remote African village. Little kids being bathed in buckets outside of Habitat-built houses, older kids playing outside, chickens pecking for food, sheep running between the houses, and a huge African sky just starting to show its moon and stars. And we were completely satisfied... and full of doughnuts.

p.s. For those of you who are wondering, I finally figured out the trick of more efficient hairwashing. Before I even get into the tub, I use a 1/2 liter empty eater bottle under the sink tap to fill three larger, empty 1.5 liter bottles with water. Those big bottles are each enough for a good full-hair rinse. Voila!

NO, I AM NOT NAPPING MY WAY THROUGH GHANA

By Casey

The title of the post has nothing to do with the content, but with Steven having full control of the picture uploading function, I thought I should clarify. I did, in fact, take advantage of downtime on the rare occasion it happens, but Steven has been downright stalking me for the moment when my hat goes over my eyes or I lay down on a nice, warm pool deck! I protest!

What I DID do today was to learn a totally new construction skill: pouring concrete floors. Without a concrete mixer, without a leveler. Just me, a wheelbarrow, a stick, and a trowel. Oh, and a fellow Habitat hanging me by one arm out over a sea of concrete. Yup. Just another morning on vacation.

The process is pretty simple. After mixing up some giant batches of
mortar (concrete, sand, and water), we wheelbarrow loads into the room and dump it in piles. I used the back of a large trowel to push the piles into rough layers about 3 inches deep. After that, take a 3-foot piece of lumber and shake it back and forth across the wet mix, settling it down into rough level. Then skim the top to height with the same bar. After that we spinkle dry concrete powder across the
surface and use the trowel to smooth the surface into what basically looks like a big sheet of grey pudding (yum, now I am craving pudding. Add that to the list of things I intend to procure when I get home, along with apples and guacamole). We sprinkle and smooth three times until the surface looks like whirled glass. Beautiful!

Oh right, I forgot to mention how the teammate hanging me out by one hand fits in. Well... it is sort of a game of trust and circus at the same time. The way the mortar is spread, often you can't reach across the entire surface to smooth it out. So the locals taught me the trick. Basically, a teammate grabs your non-trowel hand and braces his
feet on the ground, and you let the rest of your body hang over the mortar, only one foot left back in the concrete-free zone and your trowel arm reaching gracefully out over the surface to smooth the far reaches of glassy concrete. In reality, this translated to my fellow builder Adam gripping my right hand in both of his, laughing and
soothing "I've gotcha. I've gotcha" while I was canted out over the wet floor like a precarious, drunken ice skater, giggling and shouting "don't let me fall! The builders will kill me!". It was a very fun experience and, I'll tell you, a real revelation of how much I have grown to trust my team here.

Tomorrow, only a half-day building rush to complete two of the houses,
then we come back to the hotel to clean up and get ready for the afternoon's dedication ceremony. Two families will be receiving the keys to their houses tomorrow, houses that our team have mortared, floored, and finished in just over a week. I am so thankful to be seeing the results of our work. I am proud of our entire team, who have triumphed (or at least survived) over back strains, travelers'
tummy, scrapes, jammed fingers, heat, stress, and each other here in
Humjibre. I am thankful for Steven's friendship and relentless good cheer throughout this entire trip. And I am honored to be part of this chance to show the people of Humjibre that we are people who don't just send money, we came to them with open hearts and willingness to work, and we will leave a little part of ourselves here in these
houses.

Now that I have waxed poetic for the day, it's time to go grab a cold beer and enjoy one of the last remaining nights with this team of misfit toys who have come together so beautifully far from home.

Church is Church, but Football is Football

By Steven

And weekends are for relaxing. What a glorious do nothing Sunday in prep for the big game. After yesterday's lovely jaunt to the mining town's pool, we spent the morning like good little boys and girls attending a local Hujimbre catholic mass. Save for a slight additions to the choirs repertoire, all catholic masses are the same. Years of altar boydom means I can basically say the whole thing by heart, regardless of if it's in English, Latin, Twee or Sefwi. Granted I say it in English. You know what I mean.

After making sure our african shirts were on track to be finished by Tuesday's celebration, we lazed about and played spoons and continental (I'll let you all figure out what kind of games those are). Then the time had come. We had no idea who our opponents were, but by god were about to get our soccer on.

Carlos, our Mexican dynamo, was clearly going to be the man to get the ball to. We just had to figure out where to put everyone else. We went into town, bought a new leather faux jubilani ball (all the locals had to play with were plastic balls) and figured out strategy when we arrived at the pitch. By pitch, I mean red clay and dirt rectangular area with two upright bars and a crossbeam all made of tree branches.

Our opponents: the local 12-16 year olds; all wearing Chelsea FC uniforms and looking like they were going to run circles around us. And they did. When I tell you I've sweat while on the work site, that was all mere beading compared to the drenching that happened after two, 25 minute halves. I actually thought I was gonna just pass out right before the final whistle blew.

We won 1-0 due to me drawing a foul when I got slammed into while passing a stopper, Carlos bending the free kick around defenders and goalie alike and our local habitat guy/ref Eric blowing whistles in our favor 10 to 1. I suggested we do penalties anyway for fun but after 6 tries and being tied at 5-5 we just called it a tie. We gave the team the ball as a gift and thus concludes my entire check list of things to do in Africa.

1. Drum Circle
2. African Dance Party
3. Move bricks
4. Learn what one actually does with a trowel
5. Make up for US world cup defeat to Ghana.

My work here is done.

Well, except for the mortar slinging that needs to happen at 8am.

Routines

By Steven

I feel like most of you have a sense of my life to an extent. The word 'routine' is one that basically doesn't exist. Sure, my basic work structure maintains some consistency, but only some. My non work life maintains zero. I average a 1-2 am bedtime and amount of sleep hasn't been a priority in a while. I also don't do the same things at night or in the morning daily. Totally different ways of getting out the door depending on the prior evening or the mornings needs. Sometimes I just go to work at 9, sometimes I gotta make the babies at 6am.

So it's amazing to me how immediately I fell into my foreign 'zone' when I got here. I wake up at 6:30. I step onto my deck and it's the same picture every day; bizarrely gray sky, but a good morning sky. The roosters are crowing and the two chocolate lab puppies in the mini village next to our hotel are chasing all the chickens around. I think the chickens love it cause when the puppies get bored the chickens come over and peck their heads.

Morning time is all about the broom in Ghana. Everyone in every house in my vision is sweeping the red dust and dirt from their porch and steps. Once the sweeping is done the long poles with a rounded edge come out and the casaba pounding begins to get food ready for the day.

As for me, my foreign zone has been the same since I went to India in '95. I wake up early, I go outside, and I do some tai chi. It's like how I acknowledge that I'm not home and that my body needs to be ready for something new and nothing gets the body and mind better than a little yang style. I think its the smell that does it. China, India, Ghana, Singapore all have this gritty smell that I feel like I only get in foreign countries. I'm sure it's just a combo of dust and smog but it definitely triggers the knowledge in my head that I'm not in the States anymore. Post Tai Chi I usually just sit and listen to the world. Being calm, when I so rarely am, and figuring out where in this new place I can fit in.

There's also something wonderful about a set time for dinner, knowing everyone's gonna be there, and knowing there will be some interesting if not great conversation till the night ends.

I should probably learn something from all this zen....probably.

Bu then I'm sure KC will have another crazy 6am dance party and all will go back to local normal.

Tai Chi's done. Off to the day.

Septuagenarian Postscript

By Casey

P.s. Directly after composing my last entry, the team sat down to (another delicious) dinner. Afterwards, Russ posed an open question to those still gathered at the table of "Well, do you guys think that Africa is on its way up?". Thus proceeded a two hour discussion with Russ and Belva leading the charge, about what we "young folks" thought about Africa's future. We digressed into AIDS prevention, Egyptian revolution, lack of creativity in China, and the Generation Me culture in the U.S before Belva and Russ rounded it out with: "Well, in 50
years, when you come back to see it like we have, we will want to hear all about it."

An intellectually-stimulating end to a much-needed relaxing Saturday!

IF YOU WANT SOMETHING DONE, ASK A SEPTUAGENARIAN

By Casey

As we've alluded to before, there is an interesting generational mix on this trip. Steven and I are firmly in the middle of the age bracket. But I really wanted to make this post all about the three senior members of our build team. Ghana is tough. Habitat builds in
Ghana are even tougher. And building at the heat of the day at the hottest time of year in Hunjibre sometimes seems impossible. Sounds kinda whiny, right?

Except we have 3 team members who top 70 years old and they are doing it with us every day. Without ever complaining. They slop mortar, hike
the hills, and even take their places in the block line -- heaving 35 pound concrete blocks in 95 degree heat, making sure to both take and pass on the heavy blocks in a way that protects everyone's fingers and toes.

Russ E. -- retired education policy guy. despite being 73 and having
freakin' Parkinson's disease, Russ does absolutely everything. I think
that all of us had the expectation that we should help him out, not have him do the heavy stuff, encourage him to take rests. But that would be like asking the sun not to shine here in Ghana. While at first, he was a little hesitant to participate and he sat out the first day of it. But after hearing us talk about how cool it was to
move those huge piles of concrete, he put on his gloves and said "put me in!" And he did it. He stayed at his place in line for the entire time and when the task was done, I heard his wife say "you doing alright, Russ?" He looked at her with a somewhat confused expression and said "well, it's hot but I think EVERYONE is hot!". Just like that.

Russ is also known on our team for being the first out of the bus every afternoon when we return home from the build... hot, sweaty, and tired. He makes a swift beeline.... for the bar. He emerges 30 seconds with a liter of cold beer and a glass and disappears off to his room to shower and get ready for dinner.

Russ also told me a great joke on the way home. "Casey, did you know that Moses was the first mediator? He came down from the mountain and
said 'Guys, I have good news and bad news. Good news is, I negotiated him down to ten. The bad news is, adultery is still in."

Belva-- 70 year old wife of Russ who has been author, editor, and educator. This trip marks the 50th anniversary of her time in the Peace Corps in Ghana. She and Russ decided to commemorate and honor her service there by doing this trip with Habitat.

She takes her grandkids on safaris to Kenya and hops down to Peru with
Russ just to see what it's like. She is smart, wickedly funny, and once she starts a task on site, it will be finished perfectly and done with style. She is who I want to be when I grow up.

Rex-- what a southern gentleman. Rex is a retiree who has decided that
if he is not working for money, he should be working for communities.
He has done a number of these trips by himself. He is still trying to convince his grandkids to come with him. He's got a wonderful southern drawl and when you ask him, "How are you this morning, Rex?" he responds with "Faaaaantastic, darling"

The three of them provide such a sense of perspective on our time here, on our journeys in life, and on pure grit. Although you all can't see it, I am right now sitting on the porch at our hotel in the evening air and raising a glass of cold beer to Russ, Belva and Rex. I hope I am as awesome as them when I turn 70.

African Dance Party ... In Freaking Africa

There are seriously times where you have to stop what you're doing, look around, and basically think "Holy crap this is actually happening!" When you're in a small African village surrounded by 50 villagers and their kids, 3 guys drumming, 5 dudes singing, a dust cloud forming and a whole lot of dancing, that is one of those times. It's utterly surreal.

Ok. So Friday takes on some serious meaning when THAT was your work week. My left arm won't lift anymore after twisting up a saucer of mortar, I'm running low on ORTs and I actually had to bow out off doing a scaffold cause I really didn't think I could keep my balance from sweat loss for sure. The weekend for rest and recouping was desperately needed. And clearly instead of resting we danced our assess off, drank the nastiest African whiskey that put Chinese bai jiu to shame and played over share drinking games. I suppose exactly what r&r is meant to be after that.

You know I went through a few of our cast here yesterday and after last night realized something. Every single one of them chose to do this instead of an African safari or Mediterranean cruise. It seems like everyone here has done those too but they came here this time. Every one of them, even the 73 year old, is working their ass off; ignoring scheduled break times, skipping the bulk of lunch to get stuff done and making up for any lack of skill with perseverance and ridiculous amounts of sweat. It's humbling to say the least and has made me have massive respect for all of them.

I don't know if it's that or the fact that everyone's picking this up fast that I actually think, time wise, we're being a net positive and helping things get done faster. It helped yesterday to actually get to be on a site with a homeowner. There was something in his eyes that definitely gave me the first impression I've gotten from a local that none of this would be happening for him without habitat and it's actually changing his life. That works for me.

Apparently, this was my feel good post.

My Very Long Ghanaian Beauty Routine (aka How Casey Gets Mortar Out of Her Hair)

By Casey

In the mornings here, I wake up 15 minutes before breakfast, choose the least dirty pair of work pants, grab a shirt drying in the bathroom, slather myself in first sunscreen, then DEET, lace up boots, grab bandana, and head out the door. Super fast.

In the afternoons after build days, however, the prep time is quadruple. Here is what happens:

Come in the door, go straight to the balcony to leave dirt-caked boots and socks. Back in, slide off pants which often stand up in the corner of the room by themselves (I mortar them pretty liberally). Into the bathroom, take face wipe and try to rediscover skin underneath dirt/sunscreen/sweat mix that has its own mortar-like quality. Shuck off shirt, bandana into the sink for handwashing.

Wash arms as best as possible in the small sink (it has slightly better water pressure than the shower), brush out chunks of mortar and knots from hair, then proceed into bath to do round 1 of dirt removal. After that, assess any critical injuries - today's count was big
bruise on knee, cut on calf, and concrete brushburns on both forearms-
I thought I had acquired one really strange bruise in the crook of my
arm but it turns out that I just didn't soap it enough... It was concrete dust just ground really far into my skin. Because the shower head has the water pressure just over a trickle, it takes about 20 minutes to get all my hair wet and shampooed. I gave up with rinsing out conditioner, I figure it's probably better anyway! After round
two of soap and a finak check for remaining mortar and dust, I am finally looking Irish again.

Wash out and hang dirty shirt and bandana, one more face wash at the
sink, and I am ready to roll. You know, one hour later.

I'll tell you, it's not easy being clean!

Purple Duct Tape Extravaganza Thursday, Build Day 4

By Casey

Amen to Steven's blog about this being the hardest day yet. But here
it is at the end, and I am hydrated, belly full of dinner, and feeling pretty damn good! Last night was tough indeed. After heading to bed, I heard the generator kick on after a brownout. My AC died (I can only turn it on using the remote from Steven's room) and so I was relegated to using the fan. Honestly? Was totally fine! Then around 4:30am, I woke up tangled in covers and sweating like a sauna because the meager electricity we had from the generator had finally run out. I heard the hotel guys slamming the truck doors and cussing (you can pretty much tell when anyone is cussing in any language) so I figured they had been roused from their slumber for a pre-dawn fuel run. Oh well, no fan, no AC, still at least 85 and muggy in the dark. So off came the
sheets, open went the window and I spent the remainder of time until
wakeup drifitng in and out of sleep and finally hearing what sounds Ghana makes when it is waking up. A whole chorus of roosters competing to fill the empty air, the smell of cooking fires, the pounding of cassava, and mothers cajoling kids into getting up and at 'em. I hadn't had the chance yet to absorb Ghana without the interruptions of car engines, generators, radios, or other Habitat foreigners.... and
it was a nice reminder of just how loud and harmonious the "quiet" can be.

But back to the workday. We did move on to the tough outside work at
the insistence of our team leader. At first, I thought he was crazy. The first task, moving 35 pound cement blocks off a pile up a slight hill, and stacking them where useful around the foundations of the house, seemed impossible. But there we were, forming a human chain. Graduate student passing to retiree. Retiree passing to young scientist. Scientist to MBA. MBA to acupuncturist (you can guess who
that was!). And before you knew it, in the insane equatorial heat and
beating sun, we had accomplished it all.

Well, and also due to the duct tape. I am going to make a little digression here. One of the challenges with the teamwork aspect of a block chain is to figure out the best and most efficient way to get your hands on the block when the passing person's hands are already on it, and so on. So if Steven is holding front right corner and back
left corner of the block, I need to be ready to grab the two open diagonal corners. And so on and so on down the line. It takes more communication and trial-and- error than you think! In any event, a number of people end up grabbing the block from underneath and resting it on forearms, which causes some nasty brush burns. So out came my trusty roll of purple duct tape and we found use #523 for the darn stuff! We made duct tape cuffs for the "forearm grab" block liners
and it worked like a charm. I have pics of the very useful (and stylish!) cuffs, will try to upload them some other time!

Here are some of the other uses to which we've put the purple duct
tape this week:

Marking people's water bottles with a certain specific purple duct tape pattern so that we don't steal others' water

Making purple water and mortar-proof bandages for blisters and stubbed toes

Purple nametags plastered on the middle of our back so that the local
artisans can shout our actual names when we are doing something
dangerous like dropping a block on our toes

One of the many things I have learned on this trip is never travel without duct tape. And also plenty of clean underwear, of course.

I am absolutely floored that tomorrow marks our last build day of the week, and marks a full week since I left the States. After work tomorrow, we are going to have drumming lessons from some local folk. I can't wait to learn a bit and hear some local music, especially since our hotel has played a steady rotation of Celine Dion and
Boys2Men at the bar.

p.s. Someone mentioned water ice today and it sounded like heaven in
this hotbox of a country. So if one of you fine people wouldn't mind
FedExing me (preferably for delivery in the next ten minutes) some of that fine stuff, half cherry and half chocolate, that would be great. Thanks, friends, I am sure you will figure out how to make that happen. :)

pps from Steven... If you just write on the packaging "white people in Sefi Bekwai, Ghana" it will probably get to us. I prefer lemon or mango. We already have the vodka to mix :)

Cast of Characters

By Steven

Yesterday I went drinking with Chris and Carlos. Trips like these are defined by the people you're with almost more than the things you do, so I thought I'd give you the Shakesperian synopsis.

Chris - our fearless trip leader on HFH number 20. He's the guy who interviewed me while he was at an airport making a connection to Nicaragua and I had 5 people coming over in 15 mins for a roast chicken that was nowhere near done. He got into it as a writer because he was writing a book on habitat. He's a former dead head connecticut dad of 3 and level headed enough to see the important things in all this. His best line was saying we're the ones learning from you all how to be a community. Humjibre is one of those places where kids can roam free cause everyone knows them and will protect them. It's kind of wonderful.

Carlos & Diana - From Chihuaua. I've only really talked to Carlos. He's doing an MBA at Northwestern and spent a month in Africa in 2010 doing world cup and 3 safaris. Loves his soccer and nFL but said he didn't care about women's world cup cause 'women shouldn't play soccer'. May be the best traveled of everyone here though. And as soon as the inoculations have run their course plans on knocking up Diana with twins. Seriously.

Ed - real estate MBA from Wharton that works for Bain and lives in Chicago. He's part of my crew at the awesome house that has since disbanded so everyone can share in the awesomeness of our head mason Mark (aka, kcs boyfriend). I still have no idea what makes this dude tick but he seems to like beer, can smooth plaster like nobodys business and did a trip with Chris before.

Gerhard - the super friendly Vietnamese guy who never is quiet. He's basically Bill Clinton. He's friends with everyone in the hotel and work site and needs you to be friends with him. He also is the only other person who other than Atul who has a lower comparative fun scale (CFS) threshold than I. CFS is a new measuring tool for fun seekers recently invented. It means in your head, your constantly weighing if something else is more fun than what you're currently doing. Your threshold determines whether you go and do that or stick it out with whatever fun you're having right now. I have a pretty low threshold, as anyone who has a conversation with me knows when I only can spend half a conversation looking at you cause some lizard/child/dirigible just bolted across the room next to you and clearly that's more fun to look at than you talking.

Anyway, if mine's a 20/100, Gerhards may be a 2. He's an ADhD billboard.
KC does a great impression of him that sounds like the dog from Pixar's 'Up'.

Alright, my thumbs are tired. And my body. Holy crap we moved a lot of brick.

ORT Are the $&%£!

By Steven

The skies of Humjimbre and Bekwai remind me of China and India. You can't really tell if clouds or smog are graying up the skies and you long for a rare blue sky day. Except in West Africa, a blue sky day means the sun has a clear shot of UV laser to your body.

Well today was a blue sky day, which would have been fine except our normal day of plastering inside turned to brick laying and mortaring in the full view of the sun. Of course it was a work day I decided to wear short sleeves and not my wicking long sleeve sheets which are amazing.

Needless to say, even a Greco-Roman man can recognize when he's 10 seconds away from lobster-dom. I hit that point at about 2. Luckily there was still plenty of plastering to do till quitting time at 4. (we start at 8 so don't go thinking we're being lazy).

Somehow even though I sweated more, worked harder and longer than any day here, slept the night with no AC because even when the power was back on mine had died, I still had enough energy for some post work soccer. Bad ass. Now tomorrow will hurt, but today I thank the gods that invented oral rehydration tabs.

Dinner time. More to come.

MY DAY AS MARK'S GIRLFRIEND

by Casey

Day 3 of the build is over. I now fully understand why Habitat advises you to bring "bags for dirty clothes.". Honestly, I am not sure that dirty even begins to cover it. In fact, a number of our team have said that they will simply be leaving their build clothes in Ghana.

An eventful day nonetheless! I will say up front that the day turned out to be great, because the beginning looked a bit precarious. Yesterday, I contracted a bit of the proverbial Delhi Belly (I guess I have been overenthusiastic when it comes to the delicious Ghanaian food) so I was feeling pretty cruddy and incredibly tired this
morning. I finally caved at breakfast and popped one of the Cipro tabs
that every traveler keeps, and headed off to the site. I don't know how that stuff works, but it is worth its weight in gold. By lunch, I was hungry enough for some plantains and rice and felt progressively better as the day went on. In fact, Steven just called me out for skipping up the stairs at the end of the day while everyone else looked to be dragging.

Today, they switched some people up and I got to work with Steven and
his posse on their all-male (well, up until now that is!) work crew. Steven is right, their local volunteers are amazing. Mark and Vincent are like Penn and Teller. Mark never stops talking the whole day through and Vincent says about 5 words, smiling and shaking his head at Mark's antics.

Within the first ten minutes of my arrival, Mark had shot out the
first of many questions to the sole lady on the crew:

What is your name?
(Casey)

Are you married?
(No)

How old are you?
(YOU guess, Mark!)

Are you 33?
(Yes! Holy shit, how did you know that?)

What do you do as a job in America?
(I am a lawyer)

Do you put lots of criminals in jail?
(No, that's not the kind of law I do)

Silence. Because really, what do lawyers do other than put people in
jail???? The man's got a point.

So after a couple of lessons from Mark, I was slinging mortar like a pro, all the while answering more questions...

Casey, what happened to your head?
(I had an operation, because I had a cancer there)

From why do you get a cancer on your head? (Because my skin is so light, I spend too much time in the sun and my skin is not strong enough)

Oh. It's Obruni Disease.
(Pretty much, Mark)

"Obruni" is the local word for "white person.". Again, Mark's got a point. I got skin cancer because I am so, so white. I am going to start using that response "oh, I suffer from Obruni Disease" when people ask me about the scar, it will sound so much more fun.

After lunch, Mark decided that I was his girlfriend for the day. Please, everyone, don't tell Mark's wife if you ever meet her, I am no man-stealer and I bet she could kick my ass! But for the remainder of the day, when Mark wanted to find me, he would call, "where is my girrrrrlfriend? Come here, girlfriend!".

We agreed at the end of the day that it was not meant to be, mostly because of the following:

Casey, when will you get married?
(When I find the perfect husband)

What does he need to be?
(Rich, and .... no, just rich)

But if you work, and he work, who will take care of your children?
(Maybe he can not work and he takes care of the children)

Oh, no, Casey, that cannot be.
(Maybe my sister or my mother?)

Much better. How many children do you want?
(I think one)

No! This is too few!
(Well, Mark, how many do YOU want?)

I want two. No more.

He already has a son, who is 17 months old and named Julius, so he is
halfway there. He now wants a daughter, which makes some sense in a matrilineal culture like Ghana.

So that's a day in the life of being Mark's girlfriend. I did not agree to take him with me when I go back to the US, but I did agree that we should take a picture together before I go. You know, because that's what girlfriends do.

(Oh, and we also met the chief of the village, drank some cheap ceremonial gin, and went through the weekly market ... but honestly, none of it held a candle to my day as Mark's girlfriend)

Finding the Groove

Day 2 was a step above work wise. First, thank god for rehydration tabs cause sweating as much as we do and playing drinking games at night is possibly not the best idea.

Yesterday I felt useless. Today my team and I found some serious groove. I have the chatty San Fran chatty pre med, a 44yo guy from new Orleans who has 14 cats and a guy from Chicago I'm still yet to figure out his shtick but man does he make the walls smooth. I'm the third man in the system in getting the wall from muck to almost smooth before the finisher comes in. And today as opposed to wussing out I led the team to stay to the very end to finish one more wall.

At night, had a bit of an adventure into town looking for Pringles. 6 people on a journey for salty chips to go with the beer. A true Arthurian quest that quickly turned Quixotic cause this whole town has nary a salty snack. We did score a plasticky soccer ball for some post work action and 2 guys got some new pants. This crazy guy led us around on our Pringles journey asking every market seller if they had them. He even tried to sell me a ghanaian world cup shirt but my bitterness from our loss in the round of 8? has yet to pass and couldn't do it.

Early bedtime and no booze tonight. Work to be done!

Casey's First Day Recap

Day 1 of the build is over. The weather is insanely hot and humid, we are supposed to count our fluid intake during the build day, and today I drank 4.5 liters between 8am and 3pm. The work is hard but satisfying, sometimes I think the local artisans are just humoring us by letting us "help" with tasks that they certainly do much better and faster. But Chris Stearns's lessons on plastering walls are paying off in spades and I also have been practicing the Ghanaian art of the head
carry. Basically, I am transporting large metals basins of mortar on my head between mixing site and house. I am down to needing only one hand on the basin to carry, but maybe by the end I will be able to do the casual hands-free version that every Ghanaian seems to have been taught as a child.

The reviews from the last team were right, the food is amazing. Our cooks Regina and Nancy served up scrambled eggs with scallions (along
with beans and hot dog pieces) for breakfast, lunch was rice with sweet tomato sauce, carrot and onion salad, and fried plantains. Yum. Dinner was roasted spiced chicken, more rice with tomato stew, and potatoes.

I'm also happy to report that I have been downing my share of orange
Fanta -- which, if you've ever had the European version that they serve here, is worlds beyond the American crap, and Savanna cider. Erin will particularly appreciate that last one, I think she is the only other person I know who would prefer to drink South African cider over water.

The team is coming together slowly. We have a huge age range from 24
to 73 on the build, so we are trying to find common ground in whatever we do. Our trip leader is one cool cucumber and his "trust the process" mantra helps us all. We also learned to say the phrase "wawa" when things are a little screwy, which stands for West Africa Wins Again. Sadly, this kind of wawa doesn't come with Shorties or Icees.

The only real tribulation I have right now is that water pressure is a
mere trickle here in the hotel and my hair is ohhhh so long right now. And we weren't kidding when we named the blog the Mortar Diaries... we
were literally covered in the stuff by the end of the day. Luckily, after a day on the build site, a 30 minute cold-water hair washing process seems downright indulgent.

Long, even hotter day tomorrow, so I am off to sleep, tucked into my tent of mosquito netting.

-cas

Pics from Steven's Phone

I've always known I was a wuss...

But It gets pretty clear when everyone around knows more and can do more. I've always been amazed by Jim watching him remake his house. You never want to think that you're the weaker guy but lifting his damned heavy dining table proved not only is he clearly stronger than me but man I just punk out after a few hours and everyone else seems to be able to keep going; amusing since I'm usually the energizer bunny convincing people 3am is a perfectly fine bed time for normal adults.

Also, you know you're a wuss when you can't move any more and the trip leader is like 'this is a light day and it was nowhere near as hot as it normally gets'. Well shit. I need to learn to man up.

Well, yesterday was all bus ride and today was all work. The build's been interesting. We're essentially doing finishing work by doing the interior mortaring on a cement block house. I don't know if you've tried, but 'slapping' a trowel full of mortar onto a wall and getting it to stick ain't like seeing if the spaghetti's done. Most of it splatters right back at you and then falls on the ground until you have the technique down. I don't. Apparently kc's ahead because of the many nights replastering her walls

I have absolutely no idea if what we're doing is actually useful to anyone here. I feel like our masons could have easily done what we did in half the time and without having to fix so much. Hopefully by the end we'll be good enough to make this a net positive. Either way I'm psyched for the Sunday soccer match against the locals. I need me some football with Ghanians to make up for Landon and the boys. Hopefully no one feigns a 4 minute injury like the world cup.

Wifi is spotty and slow. Unclear if picks will come through. You'll have to settle for listening to me go on. KCs posting from the same account but I think you'll be able to figure out who's talking.

The long and winding (bus) road

As I remember from my time in South Africa, time is a different sort of thing here. It reminds me of the difference between the phrases "just now" and "now now" in South Africa... The former could mean anytime between now and when you die, while the latter meant you had a chance in hell of it happening in the next hour.

So we awoke and had breakfast at our hotel in Accra with the full team minus one (one poor girl is stuck in Heathrow and will be coming up to meet us tomorrow). Then our bus "missed the hotel" and, instead of coming back, just kept on going. So a new bus was procured, we loaded up our bags, all of our food supplies for the next week an a half, and our chefs and headed off. Seven hour plus bus ride to Humjibre today, then to meet the chief. Steven and I made sure o hit up duty free at JFK to bring offerings o whiskey for the chief... And maybe a liter or two for us as well! (granted, I also had an impulse buy of a bunch of Jelly Bellys)

Ghana is fascinating so far, I am brushing off my rusty haggling skills for negotiating cab fares and it's all coming back to me quickly.

And although the weather has been merely hot and not unbearable yet, I am preparing myself for the red-faced, sweaty mess that I am going to be once we start building on site.

For now, I am just going to enjoy the AC on the bus and the scenery rumbling past. And maybe some jelly beans and whiskey for a mid-morning snack.

-casey

We found the beach ... And the Irish

Nothing like coming to Africa and hanging out with the Irish. Wait. Something went wrong here. Oh right it was St Paddys day.

Josh, we found Elizabeth. And the ocean. And a sim card (sort of).

Our crew is hilarious. Leaving the hotel to Kumasi so gotta run.

We have cookies

Thanks to KC's mom there was bread and meat and cheese to send us off. More importantly there was a box of cookies. A big box. Cookies = Happy Me.

KC wants to know if her bag weighs more than 50 lbs and is convinced she packed so much more than I did. My two bags deceptively make me look like a light packer.

Here's a pic. Really I'm just testing out the blogger app and nothing exciting is happening.

Wait, I have to work on this trip...

I was just going for the peanut stew.  Aw man.  Well, if this is what Case looks like with spackel....

... imagine what happens when she gets a trowel and some cement in her face.  I mean her hands.  I have absolutely no intention of cementing her face.  Yet.


I just spent the last half hour looking for a pic of me looking more excited for peanut stew than the one posted.  Apparently that IS my most excited face caught on camera.  I clearly need more photog friends cause I know I can and have done better than that.


The dentist (who was lovely enough to make me come in at 7am cause he had no other time for me) said my tooth is fine so I'm ready to go.  Well, I'll be ready when all that stuff on my floor actually gets in a bag.  It has its orders.


All I have to do before I leave:

1. Prepare a lecture about Lupus
2. Treat 24 people
3. Hire a new assistant for Bryn Mawr
4. Find a new person to rent our studio space
5. Teach a class on Lupus....for 4 hours. 
6. Download as many episodes of Vampire Diaries that will fit on my iPad
7. Holy crap I need to stop blogging and do something.........

This is what we're in for...

This is how excited Steven gets over a shrimp po'boy at the beach.  I can't wait to get a picture of what fresh-made Ghanaian peanut stew Steven face looks like.

53 hours until take-off for Accra.  Neither of us is packed.  I am still at the office and I do believe that, in fact, Steven is currently driving somewhere in the Philadelphia area in a Beetle convertible, soaking up the sun. 

Still, assuming we get our a**es together in time, we leave from JFK at 11pm on Friday, carrying approximately 100 pounds of mosquito net, work gloves, and chemically-treated pants.  Doesn't everyone take vacations like this?