The way of Ghanian life is a simple but beautiful one. Clothes are hand washed and hung on a clothesline to dry and cooking is done outside over coals. The power cuts out 4 times a day on average, for anywhere from 5 minutes to 5 hours. I’ve made great use of my head lamp. African people of ALL ages live to dance. They have such exuberant smiles and spirits!
One of my room-mates fell ill yesterday with incessant diarrhea and a fever. Luckily one of the other girls had packed a thermometer – temperature of 103 F. I went to the clinic with her, Emma (another volunteer), and Seth (the head of the orphanage). I was perturbed beyond words at the lack of know-how and knowledge when it comes to the pertinence of sterility. Then again, after having just completed my first year of nursing school, I’m obviously going to be a harsh critic.There’s no such thing as donning sterile gloves here – or putting on a new pair between procedures for that matter. Instead the nurses use Purell on their gloves and consider them good as new to move onto the next thing. I would lose all sanity if I had to go to the clinic here. The nurse used an extremely small gauge needle for the IV so the 2 bags of fluid and antibiotics took 3 hours all together. They don’t diagnose or use indications as an educated or logical judgment tool, but merely presume that a fever surely means you have malaria and diarrhea means cholera. There is a lab but with the frequent occurrence of power outages it’s not exactly efficient. Efwa, one of the girls at the orphanage, split her leg open yesterday afternoon as well…surprisingly my nursing experience has been put to decent use so far. My experience last night at the clinic has further inspired me to do medical work throughout Africa when I graduate and in other countries that are less privy to safe healthcare.
Thus far I’ve had one Ghanian ask me to marry him. His name is Francis and he teaches at the school right by the orphanage. Based on my skin color he automatically sees dollar signs circling my head like a glowing halo. Incase you’re wondering, I didn’t accept his noble offer. Oh, I’ve concluded that I’m going to be singing African nursery rhymes for months after I return to the states – we sing the same ones on a daily basis at the daycare.
Basically, I’m loving it here. Ghana is one of those places that’s far too easy to fall in love with. It is such a vibrant and colorful country with some of the most genuine and tender-hearted people I’ve ever encountered. They’re friendly beyond measure and here in Senya, fascinated with white people as it’s quite rural. The kids still haven’t realized that my freckles can’t be picked off and they’re constantly stroking my hair. Becky’s orphanage was founded only a year ago and the first group of volunteers arrived May 1st – that being the first time any of the kids had seen a white person.
Wild goats and chickens are bantering back and forth and the roosters serve as personal alarm clocks at the first sight of dawn while the breeze from the ocean reaches through our bedroom window with a soothing touch of hope for the new day that’s about to begin. I find myself already struggling with thoughts of what the kids’ futures hold in store. I want so badly for them to have beds to sleep in, clothes, and health insurance. For them to be able to wake up and be cared for rather than having to fend for themselves and wonder when they’re going to be hugged next. To attend school and perhaps college if that’s a desire for some of them. For a mentor to be available to them to provide encouragement and assist them in setting goals and working towards their dreams and passions with zeal with the inner knowledge that they can achieve anything they wish if they truly want it.
One of my room-mates fell ill yesterday with incessant diarrhea and a fever. Luckily one of the other girls had packed a thermometer – temperature of 103 F. I went to the clinic with her, Emma (another volunteer), and Seth (the head of the orphanage). I was perturbed beyond words at the lack of know-how and knowledge when it comes to the pertinence of sterility. Then again, after having just completed my first year of nursing school, I’m obviously going to be a harsh critic.There’s no such thing as donning sterile gloves here – or putting on a new pair between procedures for that matter. Instead the nurses use Purell on their gloves and consider them good as new to move onto the next thing. I would lose all sanity if I had to go to the clinic here. The nurse used an extremely small gauge needle for the IV so the 2 bags of fluid and antibiotics took 3 hours all together. They don’t diagnose or use indications as an educated or logical judgment tool, but merely presume that a fever surely means you have malaria and diarrhea means cholera. There is a lab but with the frequent occurrence of power outages it’s not exactly efficient. Efwa, one of the girls at the orphanage, split her leg open yesterday afternoon as well…surprisingly my nursing experience has been put to decent use so far. My experience last night at the clinic has further inspired me to do medical work throughout Africa when I graduate and in other countries that are less privy to safe healthcare.
Thus far I’ve had one Ghanian ask me to marry him. His name is Francis and he teaches at the school right by the orphanage. Based on my skin color he automatically sees dollar signs circling my head like a glowing halo. Incase you’re wondering, I didn’t accept his noble offer. Oh, I’ve concluded that I’m going to be singing African nursery rhymes for months after I return to the states – we sing the same ones on a daily basis at the daycare.
Basically, I’m loving it here. Ghana is one of those places that’s far too easy to fall in love with. It is such a vibrant and colorful country with some of the most genuine and tender-hearted people I’ve ever encountered. They’re friendly beyond measure and here in Senya, fascinated with white people as it’s quite rural. The kids still haven’t realized that my freckles can’t be picked off and they’re constantly stroking my hair. Becky’s orphanage was founded only a year ago and the first group of volunteers arrived May 1st – that being the first time any of the kids had seen a white person.
Wild goats and chickens are bantering back and forth and the roosters serve as personal alarm clocks at the first sight of dawn while the breeze from the ocean reaches through our bedroom window with a soothing touch of hope for the new day that’s about to begin. I find myself already struggling with thoughts of what the kids’ futures hold in store. I want so badly for them to have beds to sleep in, clothes, and health insurance. For them to be able to wake up and be cared for rather than having to fend for themselves and wonder when they’re going to be hugged next. To attend school and perhaps college if that’s a desire for some of them. For a mentor to be available to them to provide encouragement and assist them in setting goals and working towards their dreams and passions with zeal with the inner knowledge that they can achieve anything they wish if they truly want it.
“I always wondered why somebody didn’t do something about that. Then I realized I was somebody.” ~Lily Tomlin
This comment has been removed by the author.
Beautifully written by such a gorgeous glowing soul. Your smile has never looked bigger.
Thank you! Love to you JJ!