Hello, my little monkeys.
(Speaking of which, we are sad to report that we have seen no more monkeys. More on that later.)
We said goodbye to University Basic Schools on Friday, which was an incredibly sad ordeal of course. Previously, on Wednesday, the Headmistress announced our departure plans to the school assembly, and I was asked to share a few words (mostly sad ones). We also toured the Junior High classes we were teaching in to say goodbye. (Also sad.) On Friday we again were bid farewell to in front of the Primary Assembly (the little kids… oh so cute), and we were given some beautiful gifts from the administration. Kaylee received a set of earrings, necklace and bracelet which were crafted in traditional glass beads. We both received lovely Kente cloths. We will miss this place.
We were then taken by our host Ms. Fortune to her seamstress and tailor. She had purchased some beautiful traditional fabrics to make us clothes. Kaylee and I were both fitted for them: she is receiving an African style dress, and I am getting a tunic-like shirt. They will be matching too! (Gross.)
Now for the fun stuff! Our good friend and favorite server from our neighborhood haunt, Timothy, joined us on a trip to Cape Coast. We made arrangements to meet at 5:00am so that we could depart early and have gobs of time to enjoy ourselves. We would meet at the restaurant and then travel to the bus station. Kaylee and I were eight minutes late at the restaurant, and we felt terrible because Timothy was quite adamant about the 5:00 departure.
5:15 rolls around. Still no Tim.
Then 5:30. I call to see what the problem is, and Tim assures us he is on his way.
5:45.
6:00. Finally 6:10 and Tim shows up. Apparently there was some early morning traffic, and he did not get home early from work the night before. As much as Kaylee wished to strangle him, as she missed out on some valuable beauty sleep, I was able to subdue her and we got on our way.
After a trip down to the city center transit station, we hopped in a large van bound for Cape Coast. The trip took about two hours, and we finally got our wish to see the landscape outside the city. It was incredible. Rolling hills, lush foliage, the ocean. Amazing.
We arrived at Cape Coast, which is a beautiful little city and much cleaner than Accra. We took a cab immediately to Kakum National Park, essentially the purpose of our entire adventure. We didn’t know this yet, but the high price the cabbie was charging was to ensure his presence with us all day long. A blessing in disguise.
Kakum was magnificent. We joined a group of obronis that were ready to depart for the “Canopy Walkway.” This elaborate system of suspended rope bridges is located over a hundred feet off the rainforest floor. Did I mention we were in a rainforest? A real one? It was awesome. The view from the bridges was enough to invoke the acrophobia which Kaylee inherited from her father. I was fine. Thanks mom! We saw a myriad of butterflies and armies of ants marching up and down the trees. Oh man, the trees. We were suspended only halfway up their massive trunks, and I still felt a mile high. We will post pictures: don’t worry!
Alas, the voices of our party frightened away all hopes of seeing a monkey. Bastards.
After this we left Kakum to find a bite to eat. We stopped at a somewhat-touristy spot that featured a crocodile lagoon. We got out of the cab and our friend Tim immediately recognized a server there. Apparently they worked together at another restaurant. This man led us down a path behind the buildings to “see a crocodile.” We saw two in the water right beside us (no fences by the way), and much to our surprise, a massive male just sitting on the path ahead of us. Our new-found tour guide showed no signs of stopping.
“What are we doing?”
“We’re going to see the crocodile.”
“Oh my gosh.”
We walked right up to this guy. Touched, poked, petted. He just laid there, and we were assured that he would not move a muscle. I was certain that I was moments from digestion.
Yup. Kaylee and I manhandled a man eater. No cage, no trainer, no hope for survival. Something tells me you wouldn’t find a similar place in the U.S.
We then scarfed down a sub-par meal and continued on our journey. Our last stop would be the famous Cape Coast castle, a noted slave port during the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. This castle, very well preserved (down to the piles of cannonballs everywhere), was full of other tourists and guides explaining the various purposes of the rooms we were in. We toured the male slave dungeon (creepy, to say the least) and the main courtyard. Again, I can’t wait to show you pictures of this.
The view of the ocean was spectacular. Amazing how a place built to house such evil could look so incredible.
We took a cab back to the terminal we arrived in, just to learn that the bus we would be taking was full. This was particularly sad because it was a much nicer bus than what we arrived in. So we hopped over to another terminal to board a rickety bus. At that moment, Tim realized he no longer had his cell phone. He would have to join us back in Accra while he tried to get his phone back. Yay. Traveling alone on a rickety bus next to strangers where we don’t know how the stops work. Perfect.
After a LONG trip back due to traffic and frequent stops, we arrived at the “end of the line,” where we were forced off the bus. Timothy told us that we would find ourselves at a busy market, where we should wait for him. That’s great, because we’ve had excellent practice in waiting for Timothy. 45 minutes later, Tim shows up and we take a cab back home.
This was one packed day, full of excitement, and my legs are still sore this morning after our hike through the rainforest. Pictures are coming as soon as we get back home. Kaylee and I would have felt so cheated if we didn’t get to have an experience like this. How can you say you’ve been to Africa if you never left the megacity you arrived in? Unacceptable. We like adventure! And I think we definitely had one.
Praise God for Timothy coming with us: it would have been a difficult journey by ourselves.
Today we pack and depart. Pray for safe travel and REST on the plane. Thanks for everything you’ve done while we were here!
Much love,
The Freemans
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Homeward Bound
Greetings, dear readers.
If the title didn’t make it clear, Kaylee and I are returning home. The ultimatum that we mentioned earlier did not pan out in our favor. There is no option to remain here that is logistically possible: we had the perfect situation at University Basic. Because we can no longer remain there, we simply cannot afford a different venue; nor does my wife feel safe heading out on her own.
Trying to explain all this to GST is like banging our head against a wall. Instead of looking at our perspective in a logical manner, they seem to believe that we are stubborn little kids who refuse to comply with their “options.”
We just want to stay here. We just want to teach! Is that so much to ask?!
Unfortunately, we must keep our cool as we are still being placed through the GST program in Las Vegas to complete our student teaching experience. If one more thing falls through, or if I get one more condescending e-mail from these twerps, I’m recruiting an army and we are marching to Morris. Torches and pitchforks in hand.
We made it one month: we leave here Sunday evening.
God showed us this place for a reason.
If the title didn’t make it clear, Kaylee and I are returning home. The ultimatum that we mentioned earlier did not pan out in our favor. There is no option to remain here that is logistically possible: we had the perfect situation at University Basic. Because we can no longer remain there, we simply cannot afford a different venue; nor does my wife feel safe heading out on her own.
Trying to explain all this to GST is like banging our head against a wall. Instead of looking at our perspective in a logical manner, they seem to believe that we are stubborn little kids who refuse to comply with their “options.”
We just want to stay here. We just want to teach! Is that so much to ask?!
Unfortunately, we must keep our cool as we are still being placed through the GST program in Las Vegas to complete our student teaching experience. If one more thing falls through, or if I get one more condescending e-mail from these twerps, I’m recruiting an army and we are marching to Morris. Torches and pitchforks in hand.
We made it one month: we leave here Sunday evening.
God showed us this place for a reason.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
The First Lady’s Undies (Maybe), a Giant, and an Ultimatum
Hello, dear readers.
We agree that it has been far too long, but at the end of the work day we are just too pooped to stroke the keyboard. My arms are particularly tired from beating kids all day. Kaylee can hardly speak from all the verbal abuse she dishes out. Suffice to say, these kids suck the life out of us! (Only 75% of this paragraph is made up!)
Now to today’s business (to quote our dear friend Mr. Owusu). It has been one helluva week. We find that, by the time the weekend rolls around, we are exhausted. So we spend our weekends doing awesome things like writing lesson plans, taking naps, and reading our textbooks. Jealous? We’re quite the social butterflies.
But seriously. We are pretty tired because the art of teaching here requires a loud voice and a lot of charisma. Sometimes when we get particularly animated in our efforts to control the class, a student sometimes leaves the room, finds a suitable-sized stick, and hands it to us. “Use it!” they tell us. We of course choose our victims carefully, and the beatings only last about four minutes before the kid passes out. Usually the kids wait at least twenty-four hours before trying another disruption.
In all honesty, my classroom management strategy utilizes the “hippie” approach. “All I want is love and understanding, guys.” or “There are no disruptions in my class. They just don’t exist.” These are the phrases I employ to get the kids to “feel” the quietness I seek. My wife’s strategy involves self-victimization, or putting tally marks on the board in an effort to get the kids to visualize their naughtiness. (Enough tally marks and the fun is over. I have yet to see this actually happen.) Compared to the management of other “seasoned professionals” at this establishment, our methods totally blow. Next time they hand us the stick, I think we might … well, think about it. (At the very least, visualize it in our minds and then describe it to the class)
We saw a monkey!
Moving on. On Friday there was a birthday celebrated by one of our coworkers. You can imagine our surprise when we saw the case of Guinness rolled in, coupled with more than one bottle of cheap Champagne and sangria. They also had some excellent grilled chicken, among their other not-so-excellent local cuisine choices. They almost literally forced these items down our throats, alcohol included. Keep in mind that school is currently in session, and kids quite frequently wander in to ask questions or collect their graded coursework. T.I.A. applies here.
Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering about the undies. Today we were invited to attend a church fellowship gathering following the service. After a lurching hour-long voyage in Professor Dodoo’s suspension-free sedan, we arrived at his home, where we spent our first night in the country. The gathering would take place next door, at the home of a man we met at a similar gathering a couple weeks ago. As he took us to tour his grounds, he indicated that the private residence of President Mills (yes, President of Ghana) is right next door. They share a wall. In fact, it happens to be his brother-in-law. This could also explain why he drives a very nice Lexus. (I am told that it has suspension!)
We enjoyed a wonderful time at this gathering. Never once have we felt unwelcome at any gathering. The food was excellent, and we laughed almost too much. The meal kicked off with an unbelievable beef soup: the best local cuisine we have sampled thus far. After everyone finished we were led to a buffet table that was loaded with the following fare: three kinds of nicely seasoned rice, chicken and fish, yams in some kind of spicy stew, beef and olive kabobs, a variety of cold salads, and our personal favorite- the fried plantains. We also received strawberry ice cream for dessert. Ha-mi-na, ha-mi-na, ha-mi-na! (sp?)
On that note (and I mean the ha-mi-na, ha-mi-na, ha-mi-na note… sp?), we met a man from Nigeria at the party, who happened to be named Austin. And he also happened to be a giant. (Don’t worry, he was a friendly giant. Perhaps even jolly.) When we were introduced my hand literally disappeared into his. He spoke like James Earl Jones, and happened to be very funny. We hope to see more of this guy (or giant) in the future.
By the way, he says that he finds basketball utterly boring. This amazed me, as I thought all giant Nigerians loved basketball. He says that he prefers knitting, and I could tell because of the snappy cardigan he was sporting. (Again, only 75% of this paragraph is made up.)
Oh yeah! Back to the undies. The homeowner (whose name is ALMOST Professor Ghandalf, but instead its Gyandolf… that would have been AWESOME) has a balcony above the veranda, and Kaylee and I went up there to look around after the meal. Much to our surprise we saw a lady hanging up the President’s laundry. We snapped more than one picture of what must be the First Lady’s undies. (Or perhaps that’s how the President rolls) Who among you can make such a claim? The undergarments of a Head of State?! I think not.
Now to the not-so-fun part. The ultimatum. We honestly thought we were past all this, but it seems the Global Student Teaching program is out for blood. It seems that Kaylee needs to be transferred to a high school institution, as teaching junior high will not meet her requirements. (Funny, they should have known her requirements before they placed her, as we sent all of our transcripts long before we arrived) We have been pleading with the program director to allow her to stay, because a transfer would not only detract from our feelings of security (the men are VERY forward with my wife), but would add a considerable dollar amount to our transportation budget. Therefore we have been in some pretty thick negotiations with the goal of transferring at the end of March so that she can still meet her requirements, and because we both have to transfer at this time anyway: the term at University Basic JHS ends due to a statewide examination and Easter break.
The ultimatum we received from GST was this: either accommodate the transfer, or come back to the U.S. to finish our student teaching there. We must decline this ultimatum for reasons of budget and time. This was their fault in the first place, and now they’re expecting to force my wife into a potentially unsafe situation and increase our budget to a point that we simply cannot afford.
Our e-mails have been so accommodating and professional, but GST has simply denied all fault and reason while telling us to “bite the bullet.” We have sent one last “hail Mary” to the director in an effort to remain where we are. If she says “no,” we are coming home to pursue legal action. If some of you still don’t understand everything that is going on, please ask our parents or let us know so that we can send a detailed message. I don’t think it’s too professional to put EVERYTHING in the public domain. And believe us, there’s even more.
Are we still having fun? Absolutely. Little ventures like tonight’s party make certain of that. In fact, we might pop in “Surf’s Up” for the third time since we got our DVD player working again. WOO HOO!
Much love to all of you,
The Freemans
We agree that it has been far too long, but at the end of the work day we are just too pooped to stroke the keyboard. My arms are particularly tired from beating kids all day. Kaylee can hardly speak from all the verbal abuse she dishes out. Suffice to say, these kids suck the life out of us! (Only 75% of this paragraph is made up!)
Now to today’s business (to quote our dear friend Mr. Owusu). It has been one helluva week. We find that, by the time the weekend rolls around, we are exhausted. So we spend our weekends doing awesome things like writing lesson plans, taking naps, and reading our textbooks. Jealous? We’re quite the social butterflies.
But seriously. We are pretty tired because the art of teaching here requires a loud voice and a lot of charisma. Sometimes when we get particularly animated in our efforts to control the class, a student sometimes leaves the room, finds a suitable-sized stick, and hands it to us. “Use it!” they tell us. We of course choose our victims carefully, and the beatings only last about four minutes before the kid passes out. Usually the kids wait at least twenty-four hours before trying another disruption.
In all honesty, my classroom management strategy utilizes the “hippie” approach. “All I want is love and understanding, guys.” or “There are no disruptions in my class. They just don’t exist.” These are the phrases I employ to get the kids to “feel” the quietness I seek. My wife’s strategy involves self-victimization, or putting tally marks on the board in an effort to get the kids to visualize their naughtiness. (Enough tally marks and the fun is over. I have yet to see this actually happen.) Compared to the management of other “seasoned professionals” at this establishment, our methods totally blow. Next time they hand us the stick, I think we might … well, think about it. (At the very least, visualize it in our minds and then describe it to the class)
We saw a monkey!
Moving on. On Friday there was a birthday celebrated by one of our coworkers. You can imagine our surprise when we saw the case of Guinness rolled in, coupled with more than one bottle of cheap Champagne and sangria. They also had some excellent grilled chicken, among their other not-so-excellent local cuisine choices. They almost literally forced these items down our throats, alcohol included. Keep in mind that school is currently in session, and kids quite frequently wander in to ask questions or collect their graded coursework. T.I.A. applies here.
Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering about the undies. Today we were invited to attend a church fellowship gathering following the service. After a lurching hour-long voyage in Professor Dodoo’s suspension-free sedan, we arrived at his home, where we spent our first night in the country. The gathering would take place next door, at the home of a man we met at a similar gathering a couple weeks ago. As he took us to tour his grounds, he indicated that the private residence of President Mills (yes, President of Ghana) is right next door. They share a wall. In fact, it happens to be his brother-in-law. This could also explain why he drives a very nice Lexus. (I am told that it has suspension!)
We enjoyed a wonderful time at this gathering. Never once have we felt unwelcome at any gathering. The food was excellent, and we laughed almost too much. The meal kicked off with an unbelievable beef soup: the best local cuisine we have sampled thus far. After everyone finished we were led to a buffet table that was loaded with the following fare: three kinds of nicely seasoned rice, chicken and fish, yams in some kind of spicy stew, beef and olive kabobs, a variety of cold salads, and our personal favorite- the fried plantains. We also received strawberry ice cream for dessert. Ha-mi-na, ha-mi-na, ha-mi-na! (sp?)
On that note (and I mean the ha-mi-na, ha-mi-na, ha-mi-na note… sp?), we met a man from Nigeria at the party, who happened to be named Austin. And he also happened to be a giant. (Don’t worry, he was a friendly giant. Perhaps even jolly.) When we were introduced my hand literally disappeared into his. He spoke like James Earl Jones, and happened to be very funny. We hope to see more of this guy (or giant) in the future.
By the way, he says that he finds basketball utterly boring. This amazed me, as I thought all giant Nigerians loved basketball. He says that he prefers knitting, and I could tell because of the snappy cardigan he was sporting. (Again, only 75% of this paragraph is made up.)
Oh yeah! Back to the undies. The homeowner (whose name is ALMOST Professor Ghandalf, but instead its Gyandolf… that would have been AWESOME) has a balcony above the veranda, and Kaylee and I went up there to look around after the meal. Much to our surprise we saw a lady hanging up the President’s laundry. We snapped more than one picture of what must be the First Lady’s undies. (Or perhaps that’s how the President rolls) Who among you can make such a claim? The undergarments of a Head of State?! I think not.
Now to the not-so-fun part. The ultimatum. We honestly thought we were past all this, but it seems the Global Student Teaching program is out for blood. It seems that Kaylee needs to be transferred to a high school institution, as teaching junior high will not meet her requirements. (Funny, they should have known her requirements before they placed her, as we sent all of our transcripts long before we arrived) We have been pleading with the program director to allow her to stay, because a transfer would not only detract from our feelings of security (the men are VERY forward with my wife), but would add a considerable dollar amount to our transportation budget. Therefore we have been in some pretty thick negotiations with the goal of transferring at the end of March so that she can still meet her requirements, and because we both have to transfer at this time anyway: the term at University Basic JHS ends due to a statewide examination and Easter break.
The ultimatum we received from GST was this: either accommodate the transfer, or come back to the U.S. to finish our student teaching there. We must decline this ultimatum for reasons of budget and time. This was their fault in the first place, and now they’re expecting to force my wife into a potentially unsafe situation and increase our budget to a point that we simply cannot afford.
Our e-mails have been so accommodating and professional, but GST has simply denied all fault and reason while telling us to “bite the bullet.” We have sent one last “hail Mary” to the director in an effort to remain where we are. If she says “no,” we are coming home to pursue legal action. If some of you still don’t understand everything that is going on, please ask our parents or let us know so that we can send a detailed message. I don’t think it’s too professional to put EVERYTHING in the public domain. And believe us, there’s even more.
Are we still having fun? Absolutely. Little ventures like tonight’s party make certain of that. In fact, we might pop in “Surf’s Up” for the third time since we got our DVD player working again. WOO HOO!
Much love to all of you,
The Freemans
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