part 1: project Hand in Hand

we had arrived in Nkoranza, after our 2 rides, one in the back of the pickup and the next crammed in a taxi (7 people) no bigger than a fiat, with sofie on my lap. after we got out, and as we were walking sofie said...

"sorry about that kacie."

she was referring to the man she had conversed with the entire way here. when we got out of the car, he mixed us up and asked me for my address. i told him i wasn't the girl he was talking to, i was the american. the swiss girl was still standing over by the taxi. "oh oh right" then he walked her way. "please" he said "i would really love your address and your telephone number."

they had had a good conversation, i heard and felt the entire thing, since she was sitting on me. it reverberated through her back and down her legs into my body. he seemed like a nice guy, but still it was apparent sofie didn't want to give him her contact details, so instead she referred him back to me.

"oh did you ask my friend? she has a pen, she'll give you hers."

he looked over at me, waiting.

"well" i started "um, you want my address here in ghana? my house actually doesn't have an address. we live in the bush. we don't get mail where we are at and my telephone number..." i stuttered and stalled and generally felt bad. "yeah my telephone number, you should get sofies."

that was when i left to go buy some pineapple.

"it's okay." i said laughing to sofie. "making me do your dirty work. i'll just send them right back to you!"

"i felt bad for him, but i refuse to give out my address. my pop did that once when he was traveling, then 6 months later a guy showed up on his doorstep in Switzerland and he couldn't get rid of him." she had yelled at andrew for giving the fetish chief in the monkey village his address.

"really?" the story sounded like a lie, but sofie wasn't that type of person to tell outrageous false stories to back a simple point.

"yeah."

we kept walking down the road. i was enjoying this town, it was lively but not threatening and we were on our way to the children's home. i had no idea what to expect.

"it's really interesting what people decide to be proud about." andrew said. "like this children's project, we've walked ages and there has only been one small sign advertising for it. but it seems like a really worthy project that has just sort of been pushed onto the outskirts of town, and not so many people know about it. but at the monkey village..."

he was sifting through thoughts and formulating opinions. i was listening and wondering if what he was saying was true. how did he know not so many people knew about it? had he asked one person who had no idea, then decided everyone had no idea. i couldn't help but hear his and sofie's constant reflections on ghanaian society because they were always talking about them. i disagreed with a lot of what they said, but i never voiced it because i feared sounding like a constant know-it-all, and also i realized they had only been here for a few weeks. if somebody had been next to me analyzing everything i said on my first trip to africa i would have been mortified. the first time i ate deep fried plantain it was dark, and i was certain i was eating french fries. i had wondered why no ketchup?

we were walking in the direction out of town, so i could understand why he might think they pushed what this society treats as the "undesirables" out into a space where this project wouldn't be public, but there were so many other reasons and he sounded so sure of his conclusion. he sounded like an expert and sometimes, i worry about the faith we place in experts.

but the nice thing about andrew is that he is humble, and when another opinion is introduced he works with that too, he considers it, tinkers with it, jokes. he is honestly trying to figure things out. he's not out to prove he's right.

we found what we were looking for once we got to the bottom of a long sloping hill.

"this is it." andrew said.

we walked up to a big solid gate, painted lime green with a sign next to it warning visitors to "watch out for wild dogs." my imagination took over, and although the surroundings were quite peaceful indeed, i had a 4 second panic attack. wild dogs? when i looked a little closer i realized the sign was intended as a joke. the picture of the dog was the happiest looking pet i had seen.

sofie had trailed behind so we waited for her before we stepped through.

"if we don't like it here we don't have to stay the night." she said. "let's just give it a look and decide in a bit, yeah?"

sounded good to me.

the gate opened magically, a watchman had heard our chatter and warmly welcomed us in.

if i could liken what was about to happen to us to something remotely similar, i would have to say this was the beginning of a day long trip into a world as bizarre and unpredictable as alice in wonderland.

the first thing i noticed was how it looked nothing close to what i had imagined. although i wasn't trying to conjure up any type of image, the word 'children's home' immediately gave me one. i saw a big house, 2 stories, dark and smelly. old plastic toys strewn about and weird left over smells from yesterday's dinner. i imagined a tired maid yelling at the children, and a happy but wasted "mother" spreading the love to all her "sons and daughters". in the down time, she'd sit us down and confide in us the strife of her life's work. she was tired and growing old. what would the children do when she couldn't care for them anymore? little Claire was just 6 months and mothers years were limited. she worried, and in this home, my make believe home, mother had no support system. we would vow to try and help someway, because as we sat and talked we were touched by her selflessness and her way with the kids. they truly loved her. but in a few weeks time, after we had left the desperate energy and direct needs, we'd forget.

a woman walked out from a small enclosed patio type area.

"welcome, do sit down." she was young and beautiful, in a down to earth way. her eyes sparkled and she had a smile that never seemed to end, only it was punctuated with some serious dimples. her hostessing skills were refined, pulling out our chairs and letting us know she would be right back.

we 3 looked around. our heads were moving in complete circles trying to soak in all that we could see. nobody said much because there was too much to look at but once we had absorbed enough our observations came spilling out.

"this place is really nice."
"yeah, it's nice... and... really strange!"
"i don't get it?"
"it feels really free in here."
"where are all the kids?"
"it kind of reminds me of mexico, the architecture." ... "ya, it does huh?!"
"what do you suppose they've built all these little houses out of?"
"looks like adobe painted white."
"the property is huge, look down there it keeps going."
"i wonder what the donkey's are for."
"look at all those bicycles."
"they sell wine in that shop? that's weird."
"this tablecloth is nice. my stepdad would like it."
"do we want to stay tonite?"
"let's wait to decide."

a medium sized girl walked up to the foot of our table and let out a loud long scream. then she shuffled off.

"that must be one of the kids."
"i'd like to go and see the kids."
"i'm hungry, is anyone else?"

our hostess came back and we were quieted for a bit.

"my name is charity, if you have any questions feel free to ask me. and where are you from?"

"switzerland." "london." "usa."

"alright wonderful, we are happy to have you here. and are you going to stay this evening?"

"we aren't sure yet."

"fine, fine. no pressure at all. you can walk around, enjoy the sights, see the children. when you decide just come and let me know, the rooms fill up and we want you to have a place to stay, so don't wait too long!" then she flashed her charming genuine smile and walked away. she turned around quickly and said "you can leave your bags on the table, they'll be fine there."

i knew we all felt comfortable because we deposited our things and walked away from them with a free mind, like a parent who has found an excellent babysitter. as a traveler watching your bag is as second nature as breathing, but comes with an ever present internal nag that has been fueled by horror stories and first account tales of worst case scenarios. it is a faint steady scratching inside, a constant but unobvious priority. nothing has ever been taken from me in ghana, but still i have heeded to other people's advice.

"which direction should we go?"

the land was expansive, and sprinkled about were bright white cottages painted with cheerful trim in either red, yellow, or blue. in fact, the more i looked around the more i noticed EVERYTHING had been doused with a little red, yellow or blue. it gave the place an elementary feel, of simpleness and accessibility.

directly in front of us, underneath a thatch-roofed structure a man had built a fire and was stirring an enormous black pot (the size of a buoy) of what looked like porridge. he had his shirt off, and both hands on a large wood stick, working the food around in a slow steady motion. he was making lunch for all the children.

"how many kids live here?" i asked. andrew had researched a bit so i figured he'd know.

"i'm not sure, somewhere around 50, i think."

"i wonder where they are."

the walkways were wide and smooth, they were handicap accessible. on our left was a large area, the size of a park, filled with grass and a row of small basic houses, all strung together.

grass, maintained and well kept in the form of a lawn, is not an african concept. you don't see it here, except... now i was. the look of it was both familiar and ordinary but incredibly strange and uncommon. my two worlds colliding made me feel out of sorts. i kept my eyes focused in that direction, was it really just the lawn that was making me feel so odd about everything?

further down that direction in a reserved space of natural beauty, large rock formations, popped out of the ground and caused me to stare a bit. i didn't feel like i was in ghana anymore. the rocks resembled the mountains in northern california, some place you'd spend hours to hike to. a secret spot, where mountain lions would mate.

directly in front of us was the cook, but behind him perched interesting looking cottages making their way down a hill, and a spectacular view of the distance, with nothing but nature and sky.

on our right was a path, that curved around a few exciting open looking rooms, into an area i couldn't quite see.

"which way should we go?"

noise was coming from the right, people were walking about, shrill laughter and more mystery.

"let's go to the right."

we followed the yellow brick road, and when we poked our heads around the corner it appeared we had made it to munchkin land, to the lolly pop kids, and they were all in the pool.

"there's a pool?"

it was a childrens pool painted a sharp crisp blue and the depth didn't surpass 2 feet, but that didn't seem to matter. all the kid's were inside, crowded together peacefully and energetically, splashing, wading, standing underneath one of the many sprinklers. i wanted to go down there and get in on some of the action, but first i had the feeling we were supposed to greet a group of people who were sitting and chatting on some lawn furniture. they looked incredibly comfortable, like maybe they lived here.

sofie had involved herself in introduction while i was staring at the pool scene, and andrew was already engaged in conversation. if it was possible they could speak for me i was going to let that happen. i hung back.

after a few minutes i noticed one of the men was standing up. he got out of his chair in a similar fashion to Ma, that is, as if the chair didn't want to let him go. then he scooted himself over to me.

i turned and made eye contact, not ignoring his outstretched hand.

he didn't let go for quite some time and towards the last shake he pulled me in close to his eyeballs and asked in a long slow jazzy voice "annndd youu aree???"

his accent took me off gaurd, i thought it had to be a joke. he was white but sounded more african american, his voice was smooth, deep and soulful. i couldn't place which part of the states he was from.

"i'm kacie." i said, aware of the ease in which i said my name. i knew he'd understand it the first time around without deliberate pronunciation on my part.

"kaaaa-cciiee. kaaaciiee what?"

his glare was all-consuming and intense, he hadn't blinked once. and his teeth were thick, white, and incredibly glossy. i was having a hard time taking him all in and answering the simple questions. i would have much rather preferred to put him in a glass enclosure and observe before any sort of interaction were to take place. he seemed like the type of guy that would do very interesting things alone in a glass enclosure.

"kacie mutscheller."

"mutscheller? that must be german, am i right?? am i right??" he was jabbing me with his elbow, like we were already best friends. "but where are you from kacie? let me guess?! you couldn't be from... the states could you???" his speed was picking up but the directness with which he spoke was still intact. we were inches away from each other's face and he looked like he couldn't have been more thrilled to be talking to anyone else. i wanted to burst out laughing. who was this guy?

"yes, california."

"oooohhhhhhhh!!! CALLLLIFFORRNNIIAA!!!!" at this point he linked his arm into mine and burst out in song. we were swaying back and forth and he was singing about california and love and the birds, some old fashioned song i didn't recognize.
he had a lisp that came from his back teeth, like he was chewing on a mouthful of skittles. but it only came out when he pronounced certain letter combinations, like "th" and "ch". i began to wonder... maybe this home was for foreigners too?

andrew walked over.

"so" the guy said "we have annnddrreww and kaacciee from caalifforniaa. oohhhhh calllifooorrnniiaaa! ohh-"

"and what is your name again? i'm sorry i already forgot it." he had mentioned it in between the song he sang but i hadn't paid attention.

"that's okay sweetheart, it's a tough one to remember. okay, got your pen? are you ready? here it is...sure you're ready...okkkaaaayyy-... Bob." then he broke out in laughter, still keeping undisturbed eye contact and with each chuckle moving closer to my face.

"okay i think i can remember it."

andrew looked like he was watching a magician at the climax of his act. then he asked "so the kids, they've got a pool and..."

bob interrupted. "we live a middle class life here! i mean- WHY NOT? everybody deserves a little luxury, right andrew???" then he continued "kacie from calliifforrnia. which part?"

i consider myself from 3 parts, but i only mentioned one. "chico."

"oooohh chico!!! i know all about chico!!! do you know the author-" then he mentioned some obscure name and title. "-you don't know? well, don't worry about that kacie. he was from chico anyway. so kacie, chico, there is a university there, right? university of...? university of...?-"

"university of chico." i said.

"oooohhh right!!! yes, university of chico. so tell me kacie, what do you do back home?"

"i work with special need's kid's in the classroom."

"oohh wonnndderrfullll, just wondderfull. and is that what you studied, did you go to school?"

"yes. i got my BA in Humanities."

"ohhhhhhh HUMAN-ities," he screamed out "what part of humanities???"

"well, i mostly studied art... and literature... and-"

"so you are well educated in how to be HUMAN! oh Kacie! i can tell, you are human!"

his energy was starting to wear me out, but i really liked him. he was bizarre and i hadn't been around somebody strange in this way, for quite a while. i felt comfortable with his oddness, feeling a big part of me could hold my own with my secret supply of crazy kacieness.

"well, andrew and kacie, howabout i take you on a little tour of the place. are you staying tonite?"

"uh, we aren't sure yet."

"oh no problem kiddos, no problem at all! howabout, well, here just follow me, and grab your other friend, i'm gonna take you into my house here." then he turned to the people he was sitting with prior "i'm going to take my friends on a little tour." and he fluttered his hand in the direction of a patio and walked away from them like he wasn't enjoying their company much any way.

i whispered to andrew "i don't get it." and we both laughed.

bob walked us through a door and we found ourselves in a living room that looked exactly like a room in the u.s., accented with decorations from an eccentric man and his wife. i had insta-culture shock seeing so many knickknacs. i had been living in an empty house with bare walls. this room was filled from bottom to top with books, rugs, pictures, couches, chairs, tables; the typical things.

he didn't stop in the living room but walked to the back room, turned left into an outside area covered in bouiganvilla. the house was low to the ground and appeared to center around the courtyard.

"the space feels very south american." andrew said.

"oh you think? we like to call it the puerto vallerta of ghana! c'mon back here, oh but first take a look at this." he put his finger on a picture hanging from the wall, then turned to look at all of us. "we all have our fantasies, you don't tell me yours and i won't tell you mine. but here is my wifes."

then he walked away, leaving us curious for a closer look. it was a clipping from a newspaper and his wife was the subject. she was in some big city, usa sitting on a low wall outside a skyrise, putting on clown make-up. the next shot of her was in a group of people, frozen with a very dramatic look on her face.

"she's a self-proclaimed mime, clown, whatever you want to call it! on the side. let's keep going..."

we walked through the courtyard to a back room, where his wife, entreprenuer and founder of Hand in Hand was busy typing away on a lap top. her desk was artfully cluttered, and the room breathed creation. i hadn't seen art in such a long time, so when i looked at the paintings on the wall my soul suddenly remembered how hungry it was for it. i had forgotten the power of visual art. i wanted to digest every inch of the place. i wanted to tour a big famous museum from open to close, till my knees got weak and my eyes went blurry. i wanted to see more.

"these are all Inneka's pieces. she's an artist too! hey-" he looked over at my feet "i really like those moccassins! okay kids, lets keep moving"

we trailed behind and backtracked through all the places we had just been. then when we reached the room right behind the living room bob asked us all to sit down. he plopped down into a big chair and let out a long sigh of exhaustion. i noticed his hair, a short cropped grey mullet. the back was tight curls, not too long. he had a large nose and a beard, and was overweight enough to produce breasts while sitting down.

"you guys like movies?" then he stood up again and brought us over to the bright red bookshelf which covered the entire room- wall to wall. layers upon layers of dvd's lined up in a row, begging to be watched.

andrew said "we were just all talking about how it'd be nice to watch a film."

"well whatda like? huh?"

his selection was diverse.

andrew laughed.

"hey! do you like sinatra?" then he burst out into a frank sinatra song. "or what about-" grabbing andrew by his arm "you say potato, i say pohtahtoh you say tomato, i say tohmahtoh, potato..."

andrew "pohtahtoh"

bob "tomato"

andrew "tohmahtoh"

together "ooohhhh let's call the whole thing off!".

then he stopped abrubtly, abandoned andrew and zeroed in on my eyes again. "i'm an actor. i love the theatre. i used to live in chicago..."

"oh you're from chicago!" i said.

"thank you for saying it correctly sweetheart."

his origin explained parts of his sound.

"so i was saying, i'm an actor, oh and i used to direct. but all you need to know is ACTORS DON'T BLINK."

i nodded.

"but here, i teach Jewish studies, because if you couldn't tell, I'm Jewish. so anyway kacie, i should also let you know, i'm a flirt. but i'm not dangerous. really. look at me, i'm 76 years old."

"76?" i didn't believe it.

"whose that charming fellow?" he pointed over to a picture of some boy in a black and white marine photo. i stepped closer to it.

"that's you!"

"ohhhhh, back in that time you either got stationed for training in San Diego or the Midwest."

"i'm from San Diego." i said.

"really? do they still call it Day-go?"

"um, no, i haven't heard that."

"well, whatdayathink, let's sit back down."

we all found our original seats.

"so here, we like drama. i'm dramatic. i forgot to tell you you're dealing with a bi-polar! well any way, did you meet Charity? she's a real sweetheart. promise me, when you go back out there, next time you see her you have got to say 'hey! weren't you in 'who's afraid of virginia woolfe?'" he slapped his knee and found a lot of humor in what he was saying "just do it! tell her you saw her playing the lead. she'll never believe it. we performed a play here, with all the kids. it was great. so can you do that for me?"

i had numbed out. he was talking to quickly and passionately about too many different things. i suddenly became very tired and irritable, feeling like i was never going to escape.

he switched the subject back to films and kept andrew and sofie engaged for a few minutes. i tuned in when i heard him mention he was a writer.

"so, i write. i'm a writer. but i don't write very well. i have this idea for a story, do you want to hear it? okay great." he waved his hands all around and told stories with a trembeling frenziness. "here it goes... there is this man, he's an actor, but all he wants to do in life is be a waiter. he can't seem to find any openings, and no one will take him, so he keeps acting to pay the bills. do you see what i'm doing here? the reversal? haha the actor wanting to be a waiter. those really are some great moccassins kacie. oh it's nice to talk to someone from the states. and you two also. it's just nice to have some conversation. you know? it really turns me on, physically and intellectually. and to tell you the truth, this is what i do. i talk to people. i make them feel comfortable. my wife does all the work, and i do all the talking!"

i was officially wiped out, and when he segued into politics i stood up and literally ran out of the room.

"i think i scared her off!" he joked.

i was close to the front door and i yelled "i hate talking about politics! i'll come back in if you don't ask me any more questions regarding politics!"

i slowly made my way into the room.

"oh sweetheart, don't worry, shwartzennegar, daygo, i'll stop. but actually let's go back outside. you guys can tour the place. decide if you want to stay."

as we were making our exit i was still in awe over all the clutter. "you have so many things." i said.

"HEY! you are a true american. stuff and things. you say things, or WE say things. things and stuff. but your friends here, they don't say stuff and things. i haven't heard an american in quite a while. ahhh, kacie, it's nice to have you here. i hope you all decide to spend the night."

even though he had launched an energy assault on us, some part of him was incredibly endearing, and i could tell all 3 of us did want to stay the night if we could just go back to our rooms and rest a bit.

"i think we'll stay." sofie said.

"okay, great! let me take you back to reception, and we can get you a room and settle you in. stay as long as you'd like. 1 day, 1 week, 1 year!"

andrew, sofie and i were only going to spend one day there but after the introduction episode i had already felt i had been there centuries. we were all looking forward to exploring the grounds and understanding the project a little more.