Feeling Better

I woke up feeling much better, not 100%, but still so much better than the day before. I had a little bit of porridge for breakfast, and managed to eat most of a banana (my first meal since breakfast yesterday). Samantha and I dragged ourselves out of the compound to confront Believe about the exorbitant price she was charging for our garments, and to request more alterations. I hate confrontation of any kind, and I didn’t want to outright accuse her of cheating us, but part of the problem I knew had been and was going to be the language barrier. I think Believe lets on that she understands more English than she actually does. Either way, I wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. Mama had said she didn’t want to come with us because after we leave, Believe would have it in for Mama, which of course we didn’t want… but at the same time I wanted Mama’s support.

The meeting with Believe went better than I expected. We sat down, and I explained that two years ago, she only charged me 2 cedi per skirt, and that 35 cedi for two skirts and a dress was much too expensive. She nodded and smiled, so I continued, trying to find simpler words… just in case. I explained we didn’t have that much money left and we could pay her 5 cedi per garment, which was more than fair. She agreed, though I think she was slightly embarrassed. I then went on to specify some alterations: replacing a shiny ribbon as the band of the top of the skirt with a simple piece of leftover fabric; She had cut the dress in two pieces to shorten the length, and hadn’t put it back together yet. I seized this opportunity since I didn’t like the way she had placed the fabric for the top of the dress differently than the skirt of the dress—I asked her to convert the skirt of the dress into a skirt just like the others, and I would use the top part as fabric for my own projects when I get home. I’ll be much happier with three skirts instead of two skirts and a misshapen dress. The skirts I must say have turned out well so far, so I’m looking forward to the final product. Samantha went on to specify her alterations, and then we explained that we would need it all by Friday night since we’re leaving on Saturday morning. This was the point where surprise crossed Believe’s face, putting a time crunch pressure on her work that I’m sure she’s never felt before, given the widespread adoption of “Africa time”. As we were finishing up our discussion of alterations, Mama walked over, with Cicho following reluctantly behind her. He was sleepy. She had come to see how I was feeling and saw us so she came over, but kept her distance as to not interfere or let on that she supported our ambitions to lower the price.

After we finished at Believe’s compound, Mama and Cicho walked with us back to our compound. Cicho was getting cranky while Mama cleaned up after our breakfast and emptied our trash with her hands (had I known they didn’t just dump the wastebasket upside down I would have been more neat with the way I threw away banana peels and Q-tips…). I showed Cicho a book we had lying on our table, The Fox and the Hound. He immediately left his cranky mood aside and became elated as he turned the pages. After every turn of the page, he would squeal and giggle, and clap his hands. Mama finished cleaning up, prompting Cicho to tease her. He would lift the curtain over his head and walk until his face pushed against her face. They were both laughing, and it was really nice to see. As I may have mentioned before, Mama is one of the only adults I ever see playing with and enjoying their child. Mama said they needed to go, and Cicho rediscovered his cranky side. He walked halfway through the compound, picked up a small stone and walked back… Mama apparently has dealt with this decision before and exclaimed, “If you throw that stone at me I will beat you!” He threw it. Mama just shook her head, and said, “Bye Cicho,” as she continued to sit on our step. He picked up a rock this time, bigger than his little fist. Mama reminded him of her previous threat, this time with more conviction. He came to the bottom of the step, arm back holding the rock by his ear, ready to throw it in her direction. He paused, visibly considering his options, and slowly lowered his arm and put the rock down on the step.

After Mama and Cicho left, Samantha and I watched Marie Antoinette on my laptop, and then savored our fan for a little while until lunch time. I was hungry, which was a good sign, but also slightly uncomfortable. We were brought French fries for lunch, which pleased me. Though, when Samantha gave me a significantly smaller portion than hers, I scoffed in protest. But she was probably right, I shouldn’t push it. We relaxed the rest of the afternoon; I caught myself up on blogging, and Samantha read a book. Around 2:30pm, Michael came over after school. We asked if Mama knew where he was and if he’d been home yet; to both questions he answered the usual “yes.” He colored for a really short while, sat on the chair next to me, and next thing I knew he had fallen fast asleep. At 4pm, it was time for the Primary 4-6 study session, so I woke him up—drool dripping from his chin, and eyes tired and red, poor thing. We walked him home, and headed for the library and school compound.

I am not… meant to handle mobs of children. A few well-behaved, sweet ones like Michael, Jessica, Kofi, Mawufemor and Cicho are a breeze. But when there are 40 or 50 loud and energetic children, a scene of utter chaos ensues. We gathered the children in the library again, and Samantha is meant to lead the sessions. Though I love Samantha very much, she doesn’t really have any ounce of a disciplinary figure in her. She asks in a sweet voice if what she had planned is ok. Half of the children don’t understand and run amok anyway; the other half behave and do what they’re asked and try to explain it to others. But for the most part, even if they do understand, they don’t listen. Tearing apart the shelves with books, it looks like a tornado blew through the library. You tell them choose one book and we’ll do an activity, and they grab one book, look through, throw it on the floor, and go back for another. They surround you like vultures, and pretend they never got a book or a crayon or a piece of paper, when they really have gotten a few. When you only have enough paper and crayons for every child to have one of each, it’s frustrating when you recognize some kids have already had their share, you tell them no and tell them why, and they snatch it anyway when you turn your head to look at the mob of children that have backed you literally into a corner. Usually of the two of us, I’m the one who raises my voice loud enough for all the children to hear, and I’m the one who says anything with conviction enough to be respected, and the children usually fall in line. I’m sorry if I sound like a dictator, but seriously… MOBS. At any rate, I gave up. Not feeling 100%, and not being born with enough patience to deal with this situation, I sat down and waited for it to be over. Granted, I was cranky. The kids were generally happy and excited; it went fairly well despite the chaotic mess they left behind.

Exhausted and hungry, we went back to our compound and rested and waited for dinner. We had jollof rice; I had just a small scoop, again trying not to push my luck with my stomach. Bright came by to see how I was feeling, as did Mama and Sema. Shortly after dinner I was ready for bed. Our last Market Day is tomorrow, and therefore my last entry until I update this when I get home… probably on Monday I’ll update it, and maybe post some pictures. I start my journey home in only 4 days!