mom, dad -- i'm a thespian.

it's true. ghana has uprooted my morals and transformed me into a proper performance artist. and i say that with the utmost pretension. it's not what i intended when coming here: i thought i would be in a clinic of sorts, building on my work experience. rather, my first week in ghana, my heart was hijacked by dance and has yet to be released.

my politics and goals remain the same. my social justice roots and budding performance skills joined together this weekend in perfect harmony thanks to Theater For Development. it's just as it sounds. students in the UG performing arts depts travel to different parts ghana to foster relationships with marginalized communities using theater and dance. this project was in Kintampo (which Amanda and I coined Contempo-Casual) with secondary school girls to promote community -- especially women's -- involvement in government and politics. i was invited into the project by a sweet little ball buster nana fosua. (she's all of 75lbs soaking wet and runs the joint) to put it lightly, i love her. and of course, amanda -- being the yin to my yang, the sid to my nancy, the pepper to my stew -- came along too.

we embarked on our 12 hour journey late thursday night. little did i know sleeping is a luxury afforded only to those in drug induced comas. the dancing and drumming and singing lasted well into the morning hours when we all eventually collapsed in our seats. this is QUITE contrary to the bus trips we've taken with the oboruni students. let me tell you. this is serious. this bus probably dates back to the great depression. it smelled of fried fish and gym socks, that is only when you could decipher such odors from the smell of exhaust. the seats looked like a baby dinosaur had been trapped inside and snacked on the leather covering. so we're talking: lap.of.luxury. despite the adverse transportation situation, it was the most fun i've had on a long bus journey. ever.

we arrived in Kintampo beyond exhausted for a morning rest complete with 2 square meals and a trip to the Kintampo waterfalls. the high school group of girls joined us for the falls. i tried to to chat with them, but it was hard. i am a cross between something really cool and something totally ghoulish and scary. it's a fine line. the falls were epic.

to say i had no clue what i was supposed to do for the performance is an understatement. we weren't really told anything that was to happen, therefore i nearly had a panic attack when the entire town of Kintampo paraded into the community center to see our performance. before i knew it, i was slapped into a costume and dancing bawa with 5 others from my 300 course.

seeing a foreigner is an event in and of itself for many of the children in Kintampo. thus, seeing a foreigner performing traditional dances is off the chain. the cheering and laughter warmed my heart beyond belief. the laughter continued as a sported more traditional african wear as the sole oboruni member of the PPP -- People's Peace Party -- for the faux rally the girls put on to promote community involvement in the upcoming elections. It was a sweet sketch and i got goosebumps watching these girls come into themselves. they were so cute and excited i wanted to pinch them.

we took off for home after the performance -- same driver. same bus. and by after the performance, i actually mean after purchasing a goat, about four body bags worth of charcoal, and yams for nearly everyone and their mother. you can imagine how surprised i was to load the back of the bus only to be greeted by a baby goat and forced to rock climb over an obstacle course of charcoal bags. we hit the road a couple hours later and there was no drumming this time around. we all passed out in our seats -- or on charcoal bags -- dreaming of home and bed.

we cruised about 2 hours when the bus croaked -- 3 hours north of kumasi -- and at this point it was about 1am. we filed out of the bus to assess the damage and find a mechanic. eventually a mechanic -- or actually a 15 year old boy with a fist full of wrenches arrived to work on the bus. i was so hungry and delusional that i ate an entire loaf of bread: remorse, regret, nausea immediately followed. after my binge eating excursion i returned to the bus only to find the 15 y.o. mechanic with what looked like the bus's fuel injector and 2 packages of super glue sprawled out on the ground. i watched in amazement as he used the super glue to fix said bus piece. not kidding. true. true. said bus piece, now super glued, was placed back into the bus and by the grace of god, the bus drove on...

...for about an hour.

this time, we were in the middle of the bush and it was getting close to 4 am.
amanda and i were at the end of hour rope. we latched on to our friend patience (ironically enough, the least patient of anyone on the trip) who absolutely needed to get back to accra. the 4 of us taxi'd to kumasi and caught the next luxury STC bus home. in about 6 episodes of nigeria's finest telenovela, we were finally home. our comrades weren't so fortunate. i called several times for updates on their progress. they made it home late saturday after another 2 hour break down. porbrecitos!

the last 24 hours of recuperation have involved 2 hotel pools and napping like it's thanksgiving. i have my last week of classes this week and only 2 weeks before Etou Ato Bare! (the play i'm in. thespian strikes again)

i can't even believe the semester is coming to a close. it's flown by. and i still have so much to do. more on this next time.
xo.