Autumn tree

As just mentioned earlier!

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Fall

As October prepares to roll in, one kind of tree has been turning and shedding its leaves. It's nice to have a reminder of autumn, even if the temperatures are only going to get warmer.

There have been some power problems in Accra lately. A few times in the past few weeks we've had the power issue in our neighborhood that I mentioned earlier, where power is out for almost every house in a 3-block radius apart from ours and a few others. This has to do with phases... as I understand it, power is provided in 3 phases, which are like different wavelengths. And houses are connected to one or two of these phases. If you are connected to one that goes short, you have no power; if you are on a phase that is still working, you are lucky and have power.

All this to say, I'll still be happy when we get our generator. It'll either be "late this month" (which is quickly running out) or more likely next month some time. it's still nice to have a much more tangible date than ever!

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Cool bug sighting!

a praying mantis on the balcony! The coolest part was when I made some noise by opening the window to get a better shot, and it swiveled its head over to look. Before that it could have just been an uncanny leaf or even a dead bug.

I think it's the first time I've been fascinated in a totally non-grossed-out way by any kind of insect, arachnid, or whatever.

It was so cool!

plus, there was still a big window between me and this bug. That probably helped.

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on the sunny side of the street

When I came home from German class, the neighborhood looked pretty dark.  But coming up to the house, I saw we still had power.  Could it be we got the generator our landlady was promising for the end of this month?

Nah.  The power's cut across the street - but not on our side.

In fact, even in some of the houses around us the power seems to be cut.

I'm just thankful we still have it!

ten years

I've been debating lately... as we all know, today's the tenth anniversary of 9/11.  How publicly do you acknowledge this?  What is authentic and when does it turn into "everyone else is doing it," or "proving I have grief too," or "will people think less of me if I do - or if I don't? - say anything?"  Will people think I'm brushing it off if I don't say anything?  Will people, on the other hand, roll their eyes that yet another person is remembering exactly where they were when it happened?

I'm gonna tell.  This is a blog, after all, and blogs are for telling.

Here's my take on it.  It's my "party piece," as it were.  You know, the little ditty you always have on hand, in case someone turns to you and you're expected to come out with something entertaining.  A poem, a joke - something that'll always be around for public performances.

I do feel that I'm doing this unnecessarily - it doesn't need to be said; others' stories are more poignant, touching, or relevant - but this is my blog, and people can choose whether or not to stay tuned.  So I freely admit I'm indulging myself, for which I ask forgiveness.

I was Back East with my mother visiting colleges on Labor Day weekend, 2001.  We spent some time in New York City.  It was the beginning of my junior year.

I was in a bad mood.  I don't remember why. 

My mom said to me, "Look up: you can see the World Trade Center."

I said to myself, "What's another building?  That's not special.  I'll appreciate it next time.  I am too annoyed to look up now."  I didn't take the time to look.

That night, I bought a t-shirt embroidered with the tragedy/comedy masks, underscored by the word BROADWAY.

A couple of days later, I wore that shirt to school.  In the parking lot I ran into my best friend.  His greeting was, "I'm glad we're not in New York right now."

He told me he'd been listening to NPR and had heard that a plane had flown into one of the towers.  I was shocked, but didn't know what we could do.  Our first class started: English.

The whole room was abuzz with people talking about it.  A few minutes into class time, our principal, Mr. Castagna, made an announcement over the PA about it.  He was so audibly shaken, I realized - this is a huge deal.  Most classes moved into classrooms that had TVs.  As we sat in the psychology classroom, we watched the second plane hit.

I moved around in a state of shock that day, but what stayed with me was this:

Last weekend I had my last chance to see those towers, and in my self-righteous anger I missed it.  By taking for granted that something would always be there, I lost my last opportunity to appreciate it and all it stood for.

The lesson I try to remember, this and absolutely every day, is not to wait to do anything, see anything, experience anything.  You really never know when it'll be gone forever.

My life didn't change that day, not in the foundation-shaking way that the lives of many did.  I disagreed with going to war in Iraq and I wondered how Gore would have dealt with it.  I overheard my brother watching a conspiracy-theory video on YouTube.  I complied with the new airplane security regulations.  School continued; the world continued.

But I never wore that Broadway t-shirt again.

With love, respect, and solemn memorial of those lost to the attacks and their extended, destructive aftermath; and with prayers for peace.

Multilingual taxi drivers

Here's a quick funny story. On my way out tonight, I was looking for a taxi. I headed towards one before I saw there were already people getting into, it and the driver hails me with "Alles klar?" I respond in German, natürlich, because I can. He asks if I'm German; I ask him why he thought I was. apparently I look like someone he knows.

Yesterday we went to a festival in Teshie which consisted of people jogging up and down the middle of the main street in companies with chants, uniforms and occasionally a two-foot-tall can-shaped symbol carried above their heads. We sat down for a beer at a local spot, and Teshie-ites started to come and take pictures of us. Then we were filmed for a documentary; what were our expectations and had they been fulfilled? We took a tro-tro home.

Today while shopping at Global Mamas, the tourist shop geared towards helping local women by selling batik-everything and recycled-bead jewelry at Westernized (oh no, I mean fair trade) prices, I ran into an Esoko colleague who was showing around this photographer who works for Getty Images. How do you even land a job like that?

I had dinner with the photographer, his writer, and their friend who's a fresh new USAID transfer from Afghanistan. It was the birthday of a little boy in a party of 10-plus in the corner and they played an unfamiliar birthday song for him.

It is now entirely too late for me to be awake. Work awaits in the morning.

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