life at the shelter

so, it has been quite some time since I have given a lengthy update on life in Ghana. For the past few weeks I have been living in the Eastern Region of Ghana. My organization has a domestic violence shelter in a medium-sized town in a rural area of Ghana. And keep in mind, when I say “rural” it means a very different thing than the cornfields you might think of in the rural U.S. In southern Ghana, rural means stunningly beautiful, with mountains, all sorts of lush greenery, palm trees…in fact, one of my favorite parts about working at the shelter is taking a walk every morning and just breathing the fresh air and taking in the beautiful surroundings. The mornings are especially nice…because of the altitude, it is always very cool, and there is almost always some light fog that makes everything seem a bit mystical. Plus, the road that I walk down is a dirt road filled with people carrying things on their heads and wearing traditional dress, so I am always struck by how much the area fits into the image that people might hold of stereotypical Africa.

But, life at the shelter isn’t always as delightful as the walks in the morning. In fact, at the shelter I have at times felt more lonely than I can ever remember feeling. There isn’t really a “family” at the shelter…there are just two social workers who are only older than me by a couple of years. And even they are on a rotating basis, so I have seen four different social workers come and go since I’ve been there. So there’s not as much of a sense of continuity or of “coming home,” which makes it hard. Also, since we are far away from Accra (the capital), there is a lot less English spoken. I know that no one means to exclude me, but sometimes you just sit there while people converse in Twi and think, why am I even here? I am not contributing anything. Sure, I understand basic Twi, but when it comes to long conversations, there is a lot that I of course don’t understand. Plus, it’s really difficult to work with clients, because only one of the clients speaks decent English. So I feel a bit handicapped in doing work at the shelter, because I either shadow the social workers or else have to have one of the social workers translate for me if I want to work with a client.

The other frustrating part about living at the shelter is that I never get time off. Every day of the week I’m going somewhere during the day, running errands, doing work—and then in the evenings I work with clients on either their English skills, reading skills, or computer skills. In essence, I have had no break for four weeks. And let me tell you, when loneliness and frustration compound with no time to rest, life is HARD. So, I have actually been re-evaluating what my second semester will look like…it might be that I spend more time in Accra working at my organization’s main office than at the shelter.

One other thing about the shelter that has bothered me…since it’s in a rural area, I spend a lot more time riding in trotros (those crazy vehicles that I described in some earlier entries). Well, the other week I got in a trotro accident, and while no one got hurt, it was still a big reality check. The vehicles themselves are dangerous, and the way some of these men drive them (yes it is always men who drive trotros) is just out of control. But, there is really no other way to get around. So it’s one of those things where you can deal with the risk, or stay at home and never go anywhere.

Anyway. I think that is about enough about the shelter…I am back in Accra for my break now, so at least for a few weeks I won’t have to deal with all of those stresses.