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!
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