I Whip My Hurr

Or actually, now I don't. I went native. Well, as native as purple cornrows makes me. Which actually turns out to be quite a bit. That's right, I gots my hurr did. And it's awesome. Now, before you freak out Mom, since I know you and Aubrey are the only ones reading this, they aren't that bright of purple. More of a dark purple, which only seems bright at the ends or in the light.
Let me tell the whole story. My hair has been driving me crazy. It has grown to be lusciously long and smooth, which is great in many other places besides Ghana. Instead I have simply been fed up with the fact that hair down = nasty sweaty neck and hair up means some variation on the same hairstyle everyday. So I guess I just opted for the exact same hairstyle every day for a month. I won't explain the reasoning behind it, because honestly, there wasn't much.
So after a few days of considering, I decided to have Margaret take me into town and show me the greatest "beauty saloon" in town. She happily complied, and Vida came with.
It wasn't the first time I've done something somewhat drastic with my hair on a whim. Probably won't be the last.
I sat in the patio chair outside the shop and waited as Margaret explained that the obroni wanted obibini hair. After some consideration, I was informed that my hair was too "slippery" for just natural braids, something I'd actually been quite proud of in the past, and that I would need some artificial hair braided in as well. I was then presented with an assortment of hair in a large array of colors. My eye fell naturally on the pink, but after some discouragement from Vida and Margaret, I remembered that I was on school business, and instead chose the purple. Purple is much more professional.


With no direction from me or Vida, the hairdresser got to work. She had her pick, her hands, and a girl to hand her clumps of fake hair, and she was set. The crowd around the shop was in interesting mix. There were about 5 girls in yellow and green uniforms doing odd jobs, until it got busy enough for them to have work to do as well. Then there was me and Vida. Other customers came and went, along with passers-by who all needed to come and give their opinion on everyone's styles. Luckily I kept getting unsolicited reinforcement, which is what every girl needs when they do something spontaneous with their hair.


The process was slow going, but tedious. It only hurt when she would get to the little hairs and insist on pulling them all into the braid. I may have cried, but I'm pretty sure it was just watery eyes. The strangest part of the process was when one of the girls brought over a boiling pot of water. I didn't realize it was for my head until I felt it being poured over the newly fake ends of my hair. And by felt I mean I sensed the steam and intense heat on my back, through the bowl and my shirt. But I'm pretty sure it was to seal off the ends of my hair, so the braids stayed braided. Then she put in some gold accents to finish it off, and I was finished.

As we walked home, Vida cheerfully translated the shouting as we walked home. The benefit of this was that I learned that not all of the yelling is bad. In fact, most of them were quite complimentary. So I took that as a sign that my purple cornrows are, in fact, bringing me a hair closer to being African.

Gotta Get Down on Friday

So last Friday was an awesome day. It started off fairly early - right after breakfast we headed into town to volunteer at the local health clinic. We definitely have some spare time, and so we want to do some good around the community. Although we don't have any technical skills in the health profession, I'm pretty sure we still helped. After a small amount of time wandering, each of us obronis were snatched up by a nurse and given a job. I'm not sure what the boys were doing, but Chelsey and I were in charge of checking people in. They had to go through one checkpoint first, to get their insurance information, then they went to Chelsey. She was in charge of writing their names in a register and finding their patient number, then retrieving their records. Then they came to me and Loretta, our nurse in charge of our station.
They would hand me their records (a little book with lots of space to write), then Loretta would take their blood pressure, pulse, temperature, weight, and symptoms. She would translate, and I would record them and send the books off to the doctor. It seemed that many people had similar symptoms, and I picked up a few of the words. Mostly the word for headache. (Which sounds a lot like Nietzsche, which is also equivalent to headache for me...) In the few hours we were there, we checked in about 70 people, ranging in age from 3 months to 86 years. They came for a whole host of things, from yearly checkups, or "reviews," to one lady who had had a miscarriage.
While we were there, an emergency case came in as well. About 4 guys rolled up in a red sedan, and they brought one of them up to the clinic over their shoulder. As I found out from Loretta later, he'd had a stroke, and would probably be paralyzed on his left side. He wasn't even old, only in his 20s or 30s. (It's really hard to guess how old people are here.)
Speaking of guessing ages, Loretta seemed to be astonished that I am only 21. She laughed out loud before telling me that she thought I was 45. Yes folks, 45. In an attempt to soothe my poor bruised ego, I asked her how old she thought Chelsey was. She guessed 19 without a second thought. She was exactly right. I am going to blame her guess on my height, since she also assumed I was in the military "because of my stature." Great, so now I'm white, freakishly tall, and I look old. Thank you Ghana, for the sucker punch to the gut of my self-confidence.
Luckily that evening was a much more uplifting time. We got to attend a baptism! The family is really cute. There are the parents and a son and a daughter. All of them were dressed in their Sunday best and waiting with the missionaries. Unfortunately not a lot of people came, but there were about 10 people in total there to support. The services were short but pleasant. There was a sweet Spirit in that church house in Abomosu. Afterward we all pitched in and cleaned up the church. It basically consisted of all of us setting up the chairs and sweeping the dirt out. It was great to be able to have helped in some way though.
Life is good in Ghana. More to come soon.

Welcome to the Jungle!

Welcome to the jungle, we take it day by day!

We've got everything you want:

Exotic Wildlife



Lush Tropical Plants





Miles of Open Road



Fresh Air Facilities

Welcome, Welcome, Sabbath Morning

First Sabbath in Africa! A list of things I wish I would have had today:
1. A personal hymn book
2. An English – Twi dictionary
3. Flat church shoes
4. A notification on Facebook
Well, I woke up fairly early and “showered” to get ready for church. Honestly, Chelsey and I are super lucky with our accommodations. We only have to share the bathroom between the two of us. The fact that we have a bathroom and running water is awesome. But the shower has proven tricky, as it is just a bathtub with a handheld showerhead. It takes a lot of squatting and awkward rinsing, but it’s effective. After the average breakfast of hot cereal, eggs, and bread, George walked with us to church. The building here is actually really nice. It has a chapel and about six little meeting rooms. It also has some offices, a baptismal font, and a supply closet. When we got there, one of the counselors in the branch presidency welcomed us. I was third in line, Aaron was fourth. When we sat down, Aaron informed me I was going to say the closing prayer. It took a little convincing to assure me that he wasn’t kidding.
Throughout the meeting, more and more people came. By the end of sacrament meeting, there were probably around 80 people there. They announced a baptism on Friday, gave a certificate to another new member, and announced a missionary’s call to Nigeria. It’s a great little branch, full of excitement and growth. The counselor who welcomed us also conducted. He spoke mostly in English, but would repeat the important things in Twi for emphasis.
After the sacrament, there were two “youth speakers.” The first one had to only be 7 or 8, and he was adorable. He stood up, recited a scripture in Luke, and sat down. The next was one of the boys that passed the sacrament. His didn’t last much longer than the first one. It was mostly just a bearing of testimonies. Then a lady spoke that was apparently new to the ward. She spoke mostly in Twi, I’m pretty sure, but something happened that made everyone laugh. I think she didn’t speak very good Twi, so she may have confused some words.
We sang a rest hymn. All of the songs we sang a cappella. They didn’t even have any kind of piano, but had a chorister who would sing the first line of the song to get us all in the same key, then we sang. They surprisingly had quite a few hymn books in the chapel, but we didn’t have our own in Relief Society, and they didn’t sing a song we recognized. So I kind of just hummed along. It was great. The last speaker also spoke mostly in Twi, but the Spirit was definitely there in the meeting. I love the Gospel, and am so glad that it is strong in the hearts of these amazing people in Abomosu.
The Sunday School teacher was a really sweet guy. I was able to follow most of the lesson, since he would write on the board and read out of the book in English, then they would discuss in Twi. It’s such a mesh of both languages, but it’s beautiful. I’m trying to pick up what I can, but it’s so different from everything I’m used to. Luckily in Relief Society, where the ladies almost exclusively spoke Twi, we had Mary, a girl who is actually also living with the Abus for a week or so. She translated occasionally, probably when Chelsey’s and my face started looking ridiculous.
We met a few more people after church and then walked home with George, Mary, Vivienne, and Augustina. Mary, 22, is from Accra and is a niece (I think) of the Abus. She is just staying for a while to visit. Vivienne is 20 and is here on break from studying nursing in Kumasi. I didn’t get to talk to Augustina much, but she’s 16 and seems very sweet.
The rest of the day was passed incredibly lazily. I mostly read and slept. Hooray for Sunday naps! Especially here, where it is so hot. So maybe I should call them Sunday siestas. Dinner was fantastic. When Joey warned me that everything here is one flavor, I thought it would be bland. Actually, it’s pretty spicy and reminds me of curry. In other words, I love it! I was so worried I wouldn’t taste spicy for months. We had black-eyed peas in the sauce over fried plantains. So yummy! I’m excited for Margaret to get back so she can teach us how to cook. I want to be able to make this food later.
We wrapped up a lazy day with watching Casablanca. An excellent choice anytime, especially while one is in Africa, I think. Tomorrow we start meeting with past loan recipients and we’re also going to go check on the bank in Kwabeng. It should be great!

This One's for Africa!

I finally made it to Abomosu! It took months of planning and days of traveling, but so far, it’s definitely been worth it. The journey was pretty long though. The first flight from Salt Lake to Minneapolis went by smoothly. I read the Royal Wedding edition of Time Magazine (Thanks, Logan!) and talked to the couple sitting next to me. They were on their way home from a vacation in California. That was my first real brush with a true Wiscansan accent. If I could type in an accent here, I would.
We had practically no layover there, and got on our plane to Amsterdam. Flanked by two Mac-wielding Dutchmen, I choose sleep this time. I only woke up for the occasional meal and glance of Reese Witherspoon or Vince Vaughn, which is too bad, since my middle seat in the second row back from the TV put me in prime movie-watching position. My second trip to the land of tulips and Van Gogh was unfortunately short. There was only enough time to look out the windows and wish I was instead strolling along a canal, go through another round of security measures, and then have reality hit me that I was soon to be a minority. The plane was huge, and I could count on my fingers the white people that were in my group. My reality check had not bounced.
Although six hours, I almost thought my plane ride wasn’t long enough. It was my first flight with personal screens, and I easily busied myself with movies and TV galore. I glutted on True Grit, Wall Street 2, The Office, Glee, and Modern Family. I justified with the fact that I probably wouldn’t see this much technology in months. I probably wouldn’t make a good missionary.
Just walking onto the tarmac was signal enough that I was not in Utah anymore. The night air was hotter than the last few days of Utah weather added together. And it’s okay that I can’t drink the water here, because I sure can breathe it. But I morbidly like the humidity. There’s something comforting about the fact that all the lotion and moisturizer I packed was a waste of time. Stephen Abu, Jr and his wife and kids (a three year old girl named Rhea and a two year old boy named Kobe) picked us up. He and his wife are USU alumni and great people. Since our flight got in after 9 pm, they took us back to their house to stay the night. Little did we know this meant about an hour of driving in a giant van on the worst roads I’ve ever seen in my life. Never in my life have I wanted a jeep with giant mud tires more. I could have had a grand time in those puddles.
We woke up early and got ready for another few hours in a car. We got back to Accra and picked up supplies: a large stock of Oreo’s and Ramen Noodles (amid other groceries), a SIM card for our phones, and an internet modem. Then we had to wait, since Stephen found two nails in the car tire. Luckily the mall there was pretty cool. (Actually better than the CV mall, we all agreed.) Then we were on our bumpy way.
One of my favorite sights so far has been the names of the shops. Everyone here is vibrantly religious, so the shops so nicely reflect that, with names like Thy Will Haircut, Our Redeemer Lives Barbershop, I Trust God Spare Parts, and By His Grace It Shall Be Well Mechanic Shop. Gospel reminders and scriptures are also written in the back of almost all the cars. It’s fun and definitely brings a smile to my face.



About halfway through our drive, another tire blew. Stephen was pretty ticked, but after about an hour of work, six people helping, and an additional 20 watching, they got the spare on. It was quite the pit stop. The foliage here is gorgeous. Everything is super lush, with orange trees and palm trees abounding. We were practically driving through jungle, and then a town would pop up and be gone as quickly as it came.



After a long day of driving, we finally made it to Abomosu about 5 pm. The town is bustling with people and goats. I picture it about the size of Smithfield, but in a third-world country and Main Street is the only paved road. …Paved being a loose definition... After dumping our bags at Stephen Abu Sr.’s house, eating a quick dinner, and saying goodbye to them (they had to go to Accra for a funeral), we took a tour around the town. Since it was evening, the streets were lined with people trying to catch a cool breeze. As we walked, the kids would smile, point, and yell “Abrone!” (Pronounced like “a brownie!” without the ow sound, but it means quite the opposite. Basically they were pointing out the fact that we were white.) Which we would then wave to, and so it quickly felt like a parade. Don’t worry; I’m totally prepared for parade waves. And I thought I was going to miss Black and White Days.
The sun set as we walked back home, and I noticed the bugs were quite noisy. And then I saw a firefly. YES A FIREFLY! Make that one seen in my entire life. Well, after that walk, you can make it about a hundred. But anyway, it was magical. It’s as close as the real world will ever come to looking like Pandora.
Well, the summer is off to an excellent start! I don’t know how consistent I’ll be with this blog (as you can tell by my sad try at that 30 day challenge… Oops), but I’ll attempt to keep it updated. It’s not like I have an African jungle to explore or anything.

Day Seven: Guide Me To Thee

The Gospel has definitely had the greatest influence in my life. It affects so many of my choices and actions. I'm so grateful for its guidance and blessings in my life. I don't know where I would be without it.

Day Six: Save the World

Ahh, Superman, aka Clark Kent, aka Tom Welling



This man will always have a special place in my heart. I'm not sure why he caught my particular attention, but who wouldn't love a man who can lift millions of pounds, stop a bullet, and look amazing in the process. I'll be his kryptonite anytime.