Since it was mentioned in a comment in my previous entry, I figured (since I have some time to kill), that an entry on the process of adusting to life here in Africa would be worthwhile.

As loath as I am to admit it, I have gone through the three phases that we were told to expect at our pre-departure orientation. The first few weeks in Ghana were definitely honeymoon time; everything was new, fresh, and exciting. A random power outage? How quaint! I just got laughed at by a crowd of Ghanaian college students? How funny! I nearly got struck by taxi? How exciting! It's funny how, when an experience is totally new, the brain tends to chalk it up as somehow being a fun and pleasant little diversion, an adventurous romp into the unknown for just long enough to taste the new and unfamiliar. It didn't help that we were traveling around a bunch, either - orientation felt more like being on a week-long conference vacation, which only added to the problem..."hey, it's vacation time! I'm going to click the heels on my ruby slippers together come Monday and have hot water again!"

And then the new and unfamiliar becomes the familiar and patently annoying. By week 3, the temptation to flip off taxi drivers for honking because I have white skin (and thus must be incredibly rich and lazy) was growing, and I came EXTREMELY close to cracking on one day. Between the taxis, the heat, the annoyances of a "professional friend" (a Ghanaian whose livelihood comes from "befriending" white tourists/students to get business as a laundryman, tour guide, drug dealer, etc...mine offered me all of the above services, all of which I declined), my body only just getting over being in full revolt against the heat and the food, my overwhelming desire for some Mexican food, and getting very openly laughed at by Ghanaians while having them yell "hey Jesus!" at me resulted in a week or so of sheer, unadulterated anger and frustration at the world in general, Ghana in particular. Add trying to cope with the emotional fall-out of homesickness and the depression triggered by my anti-malaria pills, and I think you can understand why I was not my usual self for a few weeks. Kevin back home doesn't spend afternoons curled up in a ball on his bed, staring at the wall and listening to sad music on repeat.

So, I did the only thing I could do to keep sane, which was to work overtime at making friends, devote plenty of time to taking care of my spiritual health, and going out and doing fun stuff, and...it worked. It kept me distracted and in higher spirits, and then one day I woke up and realized that it didn't bother that the water wasn't back on yet when I went to go take a morning shower, or that I had to take 45-minute bus ride just to pick up a package (which I had to open in front of an official and then pay for), or that I seem to be a constant source of amusement for the local population between my appearance and attempts at speaking Twi. I've just come to accept that I'm in Ghana, not Texas. Having first world expectations in the third world simply does not work; the water will go off here whether I want it to or not, the traffic will be atrocious and keep me on the edge of my seat no matter how much I might fantastize about the orderly traffic on the interstate, it will continue to take weeks for mail to make it to me from back home no matter how many times I might go check and see if there's anything new for me in the ISEP office. This is West Africa, and it's different here - all I can do is accept that this is not my home turf and that the rules of play here aren't the ones to which I've become accustomed over the past 21 years.

Coming to that realization has made life immeasurably easier, and I think I understand life a bit better than I did before January 13th. If absolutely nothing else, I'm getting along much easier now than I was a few weeks ago - you just have to let things roll off your back, take a deep breath, and then go have a smile and a Pepsi to beat the mid-afternoon sun.