Chupacabras and festivals.

June 23, 2012

THERE IS A CHUPACABRA LIVING IN MY ATTIC.

Ok, I don’t know if this house has an attic, but I’m about 123% sure there is a chupacabra living right above my head. It wakes me up at night with its constant rustling and eating of small children.  It likes to adjust and nest right when I’ve fallen into my REM cycle. I wonder if my secondary Peace Corps project can be educating this town on the dangers of chupacabras. I’ll prepare a powerpoint and everything. Maybe if I'm convincing enough I can get a grant to catch and study chupacabras.  

I got done with my first week of practicum. I still have one more week to go. Practicum is where the Peace Corps teaches you how to teach. I went to a senior high school and tried to teach them art. The key word in that sentence being tried. There was an incident with a rude school employee, the smelliest toilets I have ever crossed paths with, I have to speak like I am trying to control a stutter just so the students can understand me, I’m basically treated like a substitute because I’m only with these kids for maybe 2 classes, I don’t really know what the rules of school are, and also there was also a festival this week.

There is a period of time in southern Ghana where everyone is quiet because the ancestors are coming to eat and they need calm to come visit. We arrived while this was going on and it gave me the false impression Ghana was a quiet country. This period of silence ended a couple of days ago and the drums, music, and radios have been blaring ever since. I actually enjoy the most of the music because people will just start dancing in the streets if they hear their jam.

Yesterday I went to town named Old Tafo to watch what could only be described as a mix between a parade, a tailgate, and some sort of huge block party. There were people in every nook and cranny of this somewhat small town. 

Before I get into the festival itself, this is the reason I only “tried” to teach (and all the other reasons I listed). Basically every kid in town skipped class and went to the festival. I couldn’t really blame them. Why come watch a boring white lady teach very basic art when you could go watch the entire town of Old Tafo go completely nuts?

So the festival was a mix between celebrating the re-introduction of noise pollution and something special happened to the palm trees (I still don’t really know what that something was). The chief was carried through the town in a canoe while men played trumpets and banged drums around him. Every once in a while he would stand up and dance with some sort of duster and a very elaborate knife (I don’t really know what he had in his hands, I'm just trying to relate their appearance to something I know).  When he danced everyone would go wild and wave white hankies in the air. Most people had on elaborate white clothing with black designs.  Our little obruni group stood out soooooo much. Everyone was super nice, except for the occasional drunkard that would scream Twi at me, and then scream it louder like I was going to have some sort of epiphany and be fluent in Twi just because of how loud its spoken.  It was a really neat experience. Maybe if I somehow become blog savvy I can attach videos of the craziness. Besides a delicious plastic baggie of Fan-Choco (frozen chocolate milk) I also walked away from the festival with some sexy Chaco tan lines.

Tomorrow we are going to Boti Falls. I told my Ghana “mom” where we were going and she said “Oh yes. Very pretty. Big stone much water.” So I guess I have a big stone and a lot of water to look forward to. There is a pretty hefty hike to go on so I am excited about that.

 Anything beats sitting in classes from 8-5ish.