I have been requested to write a post about things I have seen and experienced. Not knowing where to begin am just going to freetype this up. I have seen a man performing Ju-Ju with a chicken (he slit its neck and watch it flop around for a good 5 minutes or so…if it lands breast up than whatever the man has come to question the spirits is true, breast down, it is false). Everyone here carries anything and everything on their head, even if it is something like one roll of toilet paper. Taxi drivers here usually don’t have their license, so when stoped by the police, they have to pay a 5,000 cedi “fee,” and they are permitted to continue. Also some tro tros (van taxi) or taxis don’t have head lights…a friend told me the other night that she was picked up in the lit city, not realizing that the taxi had no lights…then when they reached the unlit rural area, the driver lit a tourch and held it out the window. Improvisation is huge here. Roosters rule the realm of auditory night here…I can hear them from far away starting a wave of response that gets to my compound, passes, and makes its way back. I have yet to find a reason to appreciate roosters. People here are friendly, and most work hard. I am trying to advise a small kiosk owner by my village during training. He is from the area where I will be stationed, so it is also providing me practice with my language. He is very friendly, and works quite hard. This past Sunday I sat with him and his brother for a good hour and a half talking about comparisons of life in Ghana with that of the States. “I work so hard,” he tells me, “I eat once a day. How much do you eat? How hard do you work? How much money would you make if you were in America?” He asks and states without judging, but it is almost as if circumstances were judging me…hard not to think that at least. It put me in a depressed state of trying to figure out why I was blessed to be born in America to an amazing family. I couldn’t justify anything. We, the “Obrunies,” (white man, or foreign person…some educated Ghanaians are also called this) which was Peace Corps Trainees played some local futbol team in a close by town later that day. It lifted my spirits tremendously. They “scored” us, as they like to say, however. Their age ranged from probably 12 to 18…ours from 22 to 36…it was humbling. I realized that they have health and a positive attidute in spades…brought on by their simple way of life. Two things which most Americans yurn for…the grass is always greener I supose. When I arrived home, my house was filled with two huge families negotiating the price of a bride. It was quite the entertaining event, though I could not understand what was said. (Historically, brides were purchased by the family of the groom with keri (spelling?) shells.) I didn’t ask what was exchanged for this bride, but it seemed everyone was in agreement with the final outcome at the end of the meeting. Following this I went outside with my homestay brother Kelvin, who is 23. He is working to get his IC which is equivalent to a CPA in the States. I listend to his story of academic success while we sat under the night sky. (Nights are beautifull here by the way…more stars that I have ever been able to see before…and sunsets, indescribibly unique, and always a site worth slowing down and appreciating.) So Kelvin was able to take out a loan for his university education, he will have to serve what they call National Service, for almost a year, with very small pay. Then, he will be able to get a well paying job, save for furthering his education. He wants to attempt to get his ACC certification which is the international equivalent of the IC, and to go England. All of this is absolutely possible for Kelvin. This made me feel better. However, Kelvin’s family is considered quite weathly, and if he had not gone to private school, he probably would not have been able to go to university. Still, the opportunity available to these intelligent, hard working Ghanaians made me feel a little less circumstancially guilty. The sum of my moody Sunday…as I feel most Sundays to follow will bring. I wish to type more, but I am low on funds and time here at the internet cafe, so I must depart for home and dinner. Oh, food here is growing on me as well, but that is a topic for another day. I send yall my thoughts and love…I know yall will send the same.