Morning in the Life of a JF in Damongo

5:00 am bowel wake-up call. I am lucky to be living in a compound that is blessed with a toilet…no seat, but no worries. Fumbling in my room for my flipflops and toilet roll, resistant to turning on the light because it will wake me up too much, I make it out the door and to the toilet. Grab a bucket, fill ‘er up from one of many places (I try and find the least useable water so as not to 10 L of good water on a flush) and fill the back of the toilet and proceed to flushing.

6:30 am: the roosters and girls who are sweeping are determined to disrupt my sleep…so is the need to pee, but I stick my head phones in my ears and try to ignore the world for another 30 minutes.

7:00 am: ok, now its time to get up. Stretches, sit-ups and a few measly pushups and its time for a bath.
Emerge from my layer, greet the people in the house, who seem less enthused and energetic than I am trying to muster up (maybe if they went to bed earlier…everyone in the house goes to bed so late, even though they wake up at 5:30am.)

7:15 am, bucket shower time. some days it’s a welcome wake-up call…somedays when its rainy and cold…a little bit of a struggle. Wrapped up in my cloth, my small bucket containing my sponge (impossibly long mesh thing that when bunched up is like a rough loufa), face wash and shampoo, I make my way to the bath-house. I use my small bucket to scoop water from the bigger bucket, and dump on my sleepy body…I usually acquaint the first dump with jumping in the lake at camp. Refreshing and exhilarating, but scary! The soap I use is one of the one's my host mother makes...all natural ingredients, nice scent and lathers well!

7:30 am: breakie with the fam. This consists of bread and tea normally (I know, tea in Africa when its so hot!? You get used to it, and these days, its rather chilly). Kids are leaving for school, and me, bede (host brother) and the parents are getting ready to go to work, so the household is moving, dynamic and busy, but there is usually someone else sitting with me enjoying breakfast and a nice chat. The tea is delicious, let me describe:

-Tetley tea bag (by far the best variety here)
-local honey (its really dark and has a smokey rich taste)
-‘ideal’ condensed milk from a small little can (delicious…though I’ve stopped taking it due to my antibiotic ridden stomach, dairy isn’t so good for it)

I’ve introduced groundnut paste to the morning ritual, which is delicious. Organic fresh peanut butter is a good way to start the day. but there is some risk involved, because I am pretty sure is not a Ghanaian thing to eat groundnut paste this way, even though the kids join in and love it. mostly groundnut paste is used in soups and stews, boiled to death, so good hygiene may not always be practiced when dealing with it raw. So far the risk has felt worthy of the benefit.

7:50 am…iron my clothes! Just because I am in Africa doesn’t mean I can be wrinkly…people are very conscious of their appearance, and wrinkles are not acceptable! I have never ironed properly in my life, so I think its funny that I have started in Ghana. I am no domestic goddess, so ironing some of my things often is unsuccessful anyway, but I need to try! Though I have been lovingly scorned that you shouldn’t be ironing your clothes the day of…but I don’t see why not.

8:15 am: jump on my bike and head to work. I carry my computer in my bag with me, usually wrapped up in a rubber (plastic bag) in case of sudden rains. I say hello to a few of the regulars I pass…Ashumaa! Awoo (good morning! Fine.)
Lanto de noosa? Awoo (how is your house? Fine).
Adesba de Noosa? Awoo (how was your sleep? Fine)
Lanto bi? Alanfia (how are the people in your house? They are well)
And so on.

Today I stopped for a boiled egg on the way to work. Food vendors sell boiled eggs, and you can just eat them like that (no plate!), or you can get it with hot pepper and onion. I just eat it straight. I clasped it in my hand, and soared down the hill. I make the sketchy transition from paved to dirt road and continue on for some way. I stop at the side of the road to eat my egg. I crack it on the bicycle handle, and begin to peel away at it. here it is customary to just litter on the ground, and even though this is just an egg shell I am dropping, I still feel like the two farmers who are passing me on their bike are going to yell at me for littering. Obviously they don’t, they greet me and continue on their way. The egg is delicious and creamy, I am satisfied and continue on to work. The day will be tough, but I have a bit of plan today, so I am feeling better than most days, and its cool out and I am not even sweating, that has to be a good sign!