Bold

Come let us go, I know a place
where the suns set so red
in a thick melting sky

Damp air clings to your skin
and it sinks deep within

Down one more rutted clay road,
as you’re thinking of home
did you see it, her face

Yes this is my life,
and how can you be so bold

Hard years of toil rendering
age unrecognizable, eyes
liquid and wise, hands
calloused and old,
feet blending with road

The deep lines in dark skin
tell where she’s been
and who am I
to say hello

And who am I to be so bold

I should be studying…

Rainclouds coming down to caress the smoke rising from piles burning garbage. Vibrant green grass thrusting from red clay earth. Birds soon to be a Memory, like the crickets and bullfrogs that lulled me to sleep last night.  That lovely cool breeze that happens only when The Rain is coming.  The Excitement in the air thickens as thunder rumbles in the distance. 

Something inside me becomes Wild, like some untamed beast that would rise up out of my body to soar along the wind amid the lightning and thunder. I feel like it could absorb all the electricity in the air and do anything it Dreams of.  It could become one with the swiftly moving African Sky and maybe I would never know the Difference.  And what difference would it make, if I were to fall to earth again and come up a blade of grass?

Nothing

Trees toss their heaving branches in the wind

laden with leaves as thick as the air that settles

into the cracks of the afternoon, picked clean

by a silhouette cut away from the grey clouds

 

And how do I see it.

 

It fills the parking lot and the red dirt road

It echoes the constant cackle of the crows

and shapes the words of people walking by

 

It holds the wings of the plane, ascending

into a sky that is drooping with its weight

as if it has lain across the clouds in slumber

A giant hammock stretched between horizons.

Weightless

Walking through a field at dusk

Purple sky

tall grass

Ripples

beckoning, forgotten friend

Arms lift weightless

Head full of warm sunshine

Purple lupine

rustling aspen

Shimmer

golden hilltops of wild strawberry

Oh make me weightless, forever

to bow with the grass in the wind

Will write bad poetry for water, or Too much time in Ghana

I twist a knob and you pour from a spout

a steady supply, the end of which I doubt

Until one day, you are nowhere around

I twist the knob and hear not a sound

 

Alas, I am as sad as can be

where have you gone, sweet amenity?

 

How could I take you for granted so

I depend on you greatly, I now know

 

Without you there, life has lost its flare

buckets and stairs just cannot compare

when the time has come to wash my hair

 

By far, you are the best for many things

from washing dishes to toilet flushing

 

My love has never been this strong

a day apart would seem far too long

But three days was like an eternity

without you there in great quantity

 

For you make all of life’s necessities

fly by with the very greatest of ease

I praise the day that you were invented

and you may often be taken for granted

 

but when you’re gone, you’ll be lamented

Just another day

Today is Christmas Eve, and it hardly feels like it.  Even though I started running before sunrise, tripping over holes in the dirt road, I feel like I have sweat about half my body weight.  It’s the dry season now and the harmattan winds are blowing ever so slightly, creating a haze in the dawn sky.  The rising sun is red, gradually warming to a glowing orange.  Soon it will be a brightly blazing white-hot yellow, baking down onto the clay earth.  A dry, fine clay that filters into your shoes and covers your feet with a film of red grit as you walk.

Rising sun, I salute you and your illuminating rays that I must soon seek shelter from.  Here, you rule and mankind must labor in thirst or find refuge in the shadows created by trees that drink your burning nectar.  You scorch the earth where trees no longer grow, dusty deserts.  

When evening comes, the sunlight will turn to amber, filtering through the dense green leaves of the trees and creating dappled pools of gold.  Everything will come to life again after hibernating from the daytime heat that only the lizards endure.  The birds will flit down from their trees and people will stretch out of their shadows to gather, talk and eat.  Like yesterday and the day before here at the equator, there will be that fleeting hour of golden spun time, as the sun becomes a crimson ball again in the distant haze and leaves the thin sliver of moon to guard the night sky as it shines elsewhere.  The crickets and bullfrogs will sing their lullabies endlessly into the thick darkness.

Bleu cheese and chimpanzees

I was looking at the moon last night, and it got me thinking.  What was it like to live before man had been to the moon?  Before we knew it was nothing more than a ball of empty craters reflecting the sun?  How much more mysterious was existence before we had so many mechanical scientific data retrieving technological information sharing satellites littering the night sky?  Before MTV had permeated every corner of the globe and taught people how to dress and act?  Before plastic was invented and carelessly discarded into the last place of discovery on earth?  Before the “American dream” became the world’s dream and traditional ways of life that held ecology in balance were forgotten?

Don’t get me wrong, I still find the moon absolutely amazing.  And I find science absolutely amazing.  This is coming from the girl who wanted to be an astronaut when she was 7.  But what was it really like to land on the moon?  Do you think Neil Armstrong was disappointed?  What, no little green alien dudes to welcome us and explain the workings of the universe?  Just a vast, barren landscape.  And what exactly was this “giant leap for mankind”?  An American flag staked, Direct TV, cell phones, Google earth?  All pretty cool, but I’m not quite convinced it was such an advancement for humanity as a whole.

And why are we so interested in outer space?  If it’s about the unknown, we can find that in our oceans and rain forests.  The cure for cancer could be disappearing at this very moment, and we’re more interested in frozen water on Mars.  What do we think, life is so dispensable that when we use up this planet we can go on to another one?  Or do we really have some secret agreement with aliens that if we spend billions upon billions to make it look like they don’t exist, in the process neglecting our planet and exterminating ourselves, they’ll leave us alone?  Talk about a catch-22.

So, all conspiracy theories aside, why are we always looking outward?   Why do we overlook mysteries in our hands and attempt to demystify pinpricks that are light-years away in the sky?  Is it our obsession with heaven, an afterlife, aliens, the origins of our existence?  Or is it a competition to be the first where “no man has been before”?  I’ll be the first to say that solar systems, black holes, nebulae and all are incomprehensibly amazing.  But isn’t a blooming flower?  An ant?  Being alive itself?  Could it be that in our race to discover the furthest reaches of the universe, we’ve missed something vitally important that was right in our faces all along?  

A Ban on Neglect

Yesterday I had the opportunity to begin working with people who are starting a nonprofit organization called aBAN On Neglect, designed to tackle the problems of plastic waste and children on the streets.  We met with two charitable organizations that help street children by offering education, trade training and services for pregnant girls.

People buy water here in 500 ml plastic sachet bags for about 5 cents a piece.  The problem is that every day, roughly 40 tons of these empty water sachets end up littering the streets and gutters.  Not only that, but there are an estimated 21,000 children who sleep on these streets every night.  These are second generation street children who have been born on the streets of Accra and are now having their own babies on the streets.

aBAN is working to tackle both of these problems by teaching the children to make handcrafted goods out of sanitized, recycled water sachets and other recycled materials.  The two girls who started the organization will be returning to the US on Sunday, and we will be continuing their work here.  We have already begun selling products here, and we have Ghanaians on our team who will be able to involve local people and keep the organization going.  We will eventually be exporting products to be sold in the US.  All proceeds go directly to the charities and the children themselves get a percentage of every product they make.

The website is just in the beginning phases, but feel free to check it out for more information: http://www.abanonneglect.com/

Botanical Gardens

Engulfed in leaves emerald green

guarded by moths of silver sheen

invoked with ancient call silently

awakened in timeless simplicity

 

Crimson petals bloom splendidly

betraying their humble greenery

selfless displays of fading grace

beauty laid bare without a face

 

Glinting gold of drifting leaves

borne to earth by gentle breeze

the seamless voice of eternity

whispers to all impermanency

 

Raindrops fall with sanity

red earth cleansed of vanity

join the resounding symphony

all is carried back out to sea

You know you’re in Ghana when….

There are five stands in a row at the market selling the same thing, and the owners are all friends

You sweat so much while sitting still that you feel like you’re getting a workout

The businesses have names like “God is great hair salon”

Taxis and tro-tros have similar sayings and pictures of Jesus stuck to the windows, not to mention plenty of flags and various colorful decorations hanging from the windshield

You can see the ground through the holes in the floor boards of the tro-tro, and the door falls off while you are riding in it

None of the taxis have working speedometers and you don’t know whether the fuel gauge isn’t working or if it’s actually on empty

People honk just for fun, such as in rhythm to a song playing on the radio (which always works)

You hear the same song everywhere you go, and sometimes while you are trying to sleep… “No one be like you…”

Hissing or snapping or smooching is an acceptable way of getting somebody’s attention

You never expect anything to start within thirty minutes of the set time, and it can take all day to do one thing

You automatically begin using your right hand for everything, even if the left is more convenient

Finding something in your food that shouldn’t be is no longer a surprise, but expected

You drink water out of plastic bags (sachets)

Everywhere you go you hear “pue wata, i’s pue!” and “plantain!”

You start saying things like “ah!” and “ehe”

The doctor prescribes antibiotics for everything

Political campaigns involve people piled into a pickup driving down the street, blaring music from megaphones

You see men carrying huge machetes around and don’t think twice, they’re just cutting grass

Seeing guards and police with AK-47s is normal

You can bribe a guard with 1 cedi, or sometimes an orange

You’re used to checking your bed for bugs, dead or alive, and always travel with your own sheet

There is something rather large living in your roof that runs around at night, and nobody knows what it is

People pray in tongues all night, then preach outside your window at 6 am

You’re afraid to swim when you go to the beach, and it’s not because of the undertow

Kids use the styrofoam garbage they find at the beach as floaties

You’ve run over more than one chicken in a taxi

And the number one sign you’re in Ghana is…

When you’re shown the village’s pet grasscutter after you’ve been served one for dinner!