the journey continues, bike rides, babies and more fresh fruit!

The health outreaches continue to impress me, as we (me and the 26 other local health volunteers) ride our red messenger bikes into the remote villages surrounding the clinic, and give our talks on Family Planning. The journey to get there is always dynamic, across this flooded bridge- wind up the path of the cocoa grove- down a crumbling washed out road- through the head high grasses- jump the fallen tree- zoom through this random person's yard while they stop and stare, hey! a white girl!- watch out for those millions of poisonous ants-...!

When we arrive to our destination, we park our bikes and set up a circle of wooden benches under the shadiest tree around. These trees are usually well known and have folks under them already. If not, somebody will run and beat the gong gong drum to bring attention to our arrival. The communities we visit are minute, and usually only fill up about 3 benches or so. Each volunteer has their spiel, and does it with as much zest in front of 4 people or 40. You'd think they were auditioning for Broadway with how animated and passionately they talk of things like the Depo Provera Injection, Male Sterilization and the advantages of using a condom. (The prop of a freshly picked banana and our flip board of images always help with the lessons)

Question and answer sessions are always lively, except for the Muslim village we visited who when offered condoms kept their fists clenched tightly and shook their heads. I tried to look closely, to see if, although the general consensus was disapproving, I could recognize any of the women who come secretly in the middle of the night to receive their birth control. An interesting discussion followed, and I felt a bit imposing being there, even if I do believe in the power of our message. I sometimes wonder when we gather together and our turnout is less than 5, or in this case the people aren't receptive, what the point is. But i try to remember that we are only educating and offering services, and if one person can benefit then we have done quite a lot for them.

i was nervous to visit our next village, quite well known to be dwelling place of the only fetish priest around. people come from distances for his cures, his potions, and even for his curses (on other unsuspecting folks of course). From experience i remembered at an outreach last year he had a lot of criticisms of Western medicine, and i wanted to be warmly welcomed but prepared otherwise.

The turnout for his community was high and they even prepared beforehand by bringing out the plastic chairs and lace doilies for us! Sophie had remembered the fetish preist enjoys hard liqueur and gifted him a huge bottle of (gin?) from London. She pulled it out of her backpack and everyone began to cheer. In turn, he gave us two bottles of "his stuff" and an open forum to talk. a powerful storm interrupted our meeting and everyone ended up crowded together in a small shed for a little over an hour clapping and singing while i bumped butts dancing with a feisty elderly woman with a hoarse voice.

Most communities agree, that yes, The Pill is a wonderful option to prevent conception AND to get beautiful. "Ladies" they say "if you want to become fat we advise you take The Pill, it will make you feel to eat tooooooo much!" Then they all laugh.

But what seems to be a big hit with the women is the IUD. Trained by Dr. Radhika, Efreeyeh (the midwife's assistant and my best girlfriend in the village) is now competent and waiting at the health center to fit the IUD. I was thrilled to finally get to see my first cervix, and had no idea it would look similar to a strawberry donut! (oh the things which excite us!) and the ladies like this method mostly because it is effective for up to 12 years. A lot of them who have already had 4, 5, + babies are walking out with relief on their faces.

Sophie and Radhika have gone back to the UK, and this Saturday my friend Simone, a nurse, will be arriving to travel around and finish up the last leg of the project with me.

Sophie donated a laptop, and everyone is curious how to use it. I've officially opened up classes for 2 weeks at "Kacie's School of Computer Training". So far, a handful of people know how to turn on the computer, turn off the computer, and move a mouse around. Things are lookin' good! I jumped the gun a bit and secretly brought one of the more educated guys to the Internet lab. He seemed to be taking it all in pretty well, nodding his head a lot and rubbing his eyes, but how do you explain, when somebody is still trying to figure out how to double click, that there is a virtual reality at your fingertips. I tried not to blow his mind too much.

In the ward deliveries have continued to come, and Ma (the 75 yr. old head midwife) feels 100 percent confident in allowing just Efreeyeh and I to be at the births. In fact, she seems to have slipped into the shadows here and on her way into retirement. This has increased my hands on learning and I have been able to deliver a few more children. "Akua, put your hands in the baby's ears here, and pull gently..."
I never cease to be amazed at how quickly the moms here birth their children, and how (what appears to be) effortlessly. I am grateful for my training to be happening in a place where the normalcy of birth is innate, the drama has been reserved for the occasions it actually occurs (which is rare), and the mothers are open to including me in their most intimate moments.

Occasionally I'll walk through the village and see a face that seems to be etched into my soul. Usually the women then reach around and pull their child from off their back and hold them up to me with a smile. I know these are the mothers i spent intense hours with and saw deliver last year. One woman in particular, who was referred last minute due to complications and had her baby in a nearby hospital, seems to be forever grateful for my emotional support at her birth and won't stop insisting that each time i try to buy rice from her (which is daily) i take it for free. "no please" i say, handing her the 20 cents "take it." She turns her head and waves me away.

With the little amount many people here do have, they are generous people.

and the land seems to be generous with them, as well. the baby orange trees i saw being planted last year have grown prolifically.
The tops of the mango trees are rustling, from the little boys who climb up high to retrieve it's gifts by shaking them down. and each day now someone comes to adorn me with more fresh fruit, "take the papaya" or "your sisters have left to the UK, oh! you must be lonely. have this pineapple." i usually end up sitting cross legged somewhere, with a new friend, fruit juice dripping down my chin and elbows, a penknife filled with pulpy remnants, engaged in simple conversation.

Thank you for your emails and updates, they make the journey to the Internet lab worthwhile and moments of missing home bearable. Take care!