Hehr nem is JULIAHN.

Let me take a moment to assert how much I appreciate that you all have continued to read and comment on this. You have no idea how much it has helped to reduce and rationalize the absolute insanity that it is necessary to simply come to terms with.

Well, where to start. Yesterday the lady who is charge of the care placement for all of the ghana locations came to the orphanage to help us confront them about their issues. We set up a system for diaper dispersion so that the staff will be more accountable for the diapers they steal and volunteers will no longer be asked/feel obligated to buy diapers for the children. I tried to find a solution to the lack of basic medical attention that is paid by the house mistresses (things as simple as putting a band-aid on a large, deep, and infected wound), but this is more difficult. I am trying to set up a placement position that would involve someone going around to the different schools and orphanages and giving them this basic care, as the current attempt at this - "outreach" once a week for medical volunteers - is merely proving ineffective. It was nice to talk to someone who understands instead of denies the problem, but I'm not sure things will be amended as we would like. There are simply too many people who are not on our side. However, progress was made and that itself is an achievement.

Joined by Andrew and our directors, Alice and I left work early to visit Maeve's school. They were putting on an Open Day, which means the children did some dances and poetry recital in the hopes (or well, as I will explain, certainty) of raising money. Ghana is so very strange. As children read poetry, sung, or danced, parents would come up and rub or smack a cedi note on their face. The man in charge would announce ocassionally over the microphone that not doing so would psychologically damage the children. After each performance, the children were forced to remain on stage until someone paid for them to go. Imagine picking teams for PE on an even grander and more mortifying scale...

Last night I had a bit of a scare as I was driving home from going out with my host parents. I felt really hot and all of a sudden my lymph nodes felt as if they were going to eat me alive. I took my temperature, assuming I had a fever again, but it was 94.9. I took it repeatedly and tried Alice's ear thermometer with similar results. I decided to go to the hospital today, in order to definitively be diagnosed with malaria and perhaps receive some stronger drugs. Which is where I have just returned from. What an odd, terrifying experience. Luckily I was able to go with Andrew, who works there, and got to skip the lines (which made me feel horrible, as people were waiting on benches all around and looking at me with wide eyes). Gabby (one of our coordinators, luckily the best one) kept me company for a while, but most of the time I was alone while I waited to be shunted from one annoyed, rude caregiver to the next. They took my blood from the top of my hand (?), and I sat there shaking, overwhelmed by a flood of Twi and needles, as he pulled the plunger (connected to a STERILE needle, mum) in and out for about 5 minutes. When he pulled out the needle, he sucked up the residual blood that dripped from the injection site, and cavalierly waved me out of the room. Or should I say wooden rectangle. Then I sat and waited for 2 hours until they tossed me into another wooden rectangle, in which a doctor (I think) said my blood contained the malaria parasites. Then he tried to tell me I had a sore throat (which grew into tonsilitis) and swine flu. I'm pretty sure he wrote that on my folder, but I will definitely not be taking whatever having that entails. In the end they gave me some more antimalarials, a slip of paper for things to get from the pharmacy, and some very vague directions. I think I'm the better for my trip? Certainly an experience...but probably not one I'd like to have again.

This weekend is a short trip - just saturday and sunday with 3 other girls to see the monkey sanctuary, bat caves, and a waterfall. I hope that after confirming my malaria I can relax, knowing that I don't have the plethora of other things I read about in my guidebook. Never thought I'd say "I hope I have malaria!" but that's what I was thinking as I awaited test results. There are so many more horrible things I could have had, so I am quite grateful.

By the way, I think I've had vivid dreams about all of you by now. Malaria pill dreams are great. I had one dream in Mole that I came home and hid in the bathroom until I had fixed my hair. Then I hugged everyone and someone gave me a donut and as I bit into it I woke up grinning. Only to realize that I was in Africa...at the beginning I also had dreams that Alice was sleepwalking and woke me up. We still don't know if that was a dream or not. OH! I totally forgot. So like a week ago, Alice and I kept hearing banging in the night. I joked that there was a shoot-out going on, but when we asked Francis in the morning he said the bangs were him, shooting at robbers outside the house! The next day, I went out and bought a machete. We have been sleeping better.

I also can't wait to tell you about all the funny/cool/weird people I have met here. It's quite a good set up, really, because you have the opportunity to feel like a local during the week and a backpacker during the weekends. A bit of both worlds. Anyway, I'm surprised at how easily I've learned to trust everyone and how nice it has been exploring Ghana with them. If it weren't for the other volunteers, I wouldn't miss it here quite as much as I'm realizing I will. Kumasi has really become like home, in a really strange and comforting way. I will miss fratenizing with locals and foreigners and I will even miss the devilish children.

Speaking of the devilish children - despite being gone so much this week, I've actually had a few mini breakthroughs. They might not sound like much, but here they are significant. On tuesday I was tickling some girls on the swings, which they find endlessly enjoyable, when one lept off, hugged me (which is distinct from clinging), and breathed an overjoyed "thank you!" as she grinned up at me. I was so taken aback that she had recognized my playing with her as nonobligatory kindness. Additionally, I have been teaching the girls to say please and use my name in place of obruni. Now, they shout at each other "Hehr nem is JULIAHN!" which just about breaks my heart. They also seem to be following my example in the way they interact with the younger ones - I even caught one gently comforting a crying toddler! While these developments, so long in coming, will make it harder to leave, they also help to remind me why I came.

Alright, now I'm going to attempt to respond to some emails. I responded to all the comments! Thanks everyone! Have a wonderful weekend.