Joining the Kindle Train

I have reached my first actual crisis while in Ghana: I’m running out of books to read. Sure, there are bookshops in Hohoe, and if I ever feel the need to read “101 Ways to Improve Your Public Speaking” or “Jesus Loves You If You're Straight” I can stroll over and pick one up, but those aren’t normally my type.

 I’ve started to envy Rachael’s Kindle. I’m normally vehemently opposed to electronic reading devices. I much prefer the tangible feeling of turning the page, but the idea of having hundreds of books at my fingertips without having to haul paperbacks around sounds nice when you’re moving about a foreign country.

Since being here, I’ve read.

1.       A Walk Across America by Peter Jenkins

2.       On the Road by Jack Kerouac

3.       King Leopold’s Ghost by Adam Hoschild

4.       Fifty Shades of Grey by EL James (Don’t judge me, okay?! It was on our bookshelf from past staff. I read it in a day. I’m not proud, but it happened.)

5.       The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

6.       Walden by Henry David Thoreau

I read all those the old fashioned way – dog-earring pages and all, but I have officially succumbed to the cool kid traveler gadget. My wonderful mother slipped a Kindle into my next package. She sent it more than a month ago, and I’ve heard horror stories about packages never arriving. Here’s to hoping a Ghanaian post office attendant isn’t reading “Daily Manna” on my new toy

. 

Now that I have a full library at the click of a button (If it ever comes!), what books should I read? Currently accepting recommendations!

-          Ashley Rose.

Final Countdown: One month left.

I didn't think this day would actually come.

Now that it's here,  I don't know what to think.

In exactly one month's time, I will have my suitcases packed and stuffed in the back of a tro, slurping down my last FanChoco and waving goodbye to the town I called home for the last five months.

Some days, I couldn't wait for that moment to arrive. I'd catch myself tapping my toes, twiddling my thumbs, patiently waiting for the time I'd be back in the airport, headed back to friends, family and burritos.

Man, I miss burritos.

Recently, though, my return flight feels like it's approaching way too quickly.There is still so much to do, so much to see.  I've cultivated a community here, and the thought of saying goodbye to the people I've met makes my stomach drop.

With four weekends left in Ghana, I am challenging myself to make the most out of each of them. Running away to waterfalls in Volta, late nights dancing, drinking and being merry in Accra, and maybe even a trip up north, I'm determined to fill the next month with lots of laughter, memories and a healthy dose of shenanigans.

- Ashley Rose

Happy 500th, This American Life.

In the beginning of my time at Della, I spent a mind-numbing amount of hours cutting cloth for the women to sew. My hands bled and cramped from clutching metal scissors for five or more hours a day. (I have infinite respect for the people who do this for a living.)

Spending so much time hovered over the cutting table, I felt my brain melting. Music was a nice escape from the monotony for awhile, but I needed more stimulation than Mumford & Sons to get me through the task of cutting fabric for 400 jackets.

Wyatt let me borrow his iPhone to listen to a podcast or two to pass the time, and I was hooked.

That night, I downloaded all the podcasts I could and actually looked forward to cutting cloth again so I could immerse myself in the stories shared.

I'm picky about my podcasts. I can't stand back and forth banter between two hosts who don't actually have anything important to say.

Coming from a journalism background, I clutch to podcasts telling stories of things unknown -- unknown issues, unknown people, unknown facts. This American Life tells stories surrounding issues I didn't even know I was interested in. From Native American tribes to global warming to Christian blackjack players, I always look forward to the newest episode to teach me about subjects foreign to me.

Podcasts have been my lifeline while in Ghana. 

This week, This American Life reached their 500th episode.

This American Life has gotten me through long tro rides, lonely nights without electricity and mind-numbing activities.

I could talk about the glory of this podcast for days, but I could never do it justice.

 My favorites?

#487 and #488: Harper High School, Parts One and Two
#491: Tribes
#27: The Cruelty of Children

Ch-ch-check 'em out.

If you do anything today, download and listen to This American Life. It may change your life. It certainly changed mine.

- Ashley Rose

Della Olympics

We recently surprised the women with some good old fashioned field games. It was nothing short of hilarious.

You can read about our shenanigans on Della's blog here.

- Ashley Rose

Cedi Bead Factory

Since working at Della, I've become fascinated with the process of producing. I can't walk by a piece of clothing now without inspecting it and figuring out how it's made.

 

Every item I come across in my day-to-day has been designed, produced, packaged and shipped by someone. From the hairbrush I use every day to the plastic chair I'm sitting in now, these items are all made by someone, and that never ceases to amaze me.

 

Almost everyone I encounter in Ghana have beads somewhere wrapped around some part of their body, but I had no clue how they were made.

 

My curiosity took me on an impromptu field trip to Cedi Bead Factory.

 

After a sweaty tro ride, we arrived to the factory, located in Odumase-Krobo, about two hours from Accra. I was expecting a large industrial factory, as the name suggests, but as we walked through the gate to an open field lined with concrete patios, I realized this is a much smaller scale production than I thought.

 

 

There were only five or so craftsmen at the facility. They focus on quality, not quantity, according to their directional signage. Mr. Cedi, the owner of the "factory" has traveled around the world to various craft fairs, sharing his methods with other bead fanatics. His world travels shaking hands with the best bead makers around the world line the gift shop.

 

 Cedi Bead Factory makes five kinds of beads using different methods. All beads start by mixing materials, mostly glass, into molds and melting them in a clay fireplace.

Once melted, each bead has to be individually pierced to create a hole large enough to be threaded. After the beads are cooled, they are polished in a mixture of sand and water and are ready to be sold.

I had a great time and got some vibrant blue beads, which have me thinking about a handful of DIY projects.

Processes fascinate me, and it's nice to know how the little glass beads around my wrist came to be.

- Ashley

Did Esenam find my look-a-like?

"Sista Ash-eh-wa, have you ever seen Home Alone before?"

This was not the question I was expecting as I walked into the workroom this afternoon.

But Esenam, who if she wasn't a seamstress would definitely be a movie critic, has a soft spot for American films and random movie references.

"You look like Kevin. It's the lips. They're huge and really red, like you are always wearing lipstick."

I'm still trying to figure out if it was a compliment or not.

I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye.

I deactivated my Facebook for the last eight weeks of my time in Ghana. It makes me do things like talk to actual human beings instead of sitting on my bunk bed lurking people an ocean away.

Instead of scrolling through those photos of that girl in my high school plant biology's weekend trip to Vegas, I went outside and thought about who I am and who I want to be and how everything is pretty alright.

Kimya Dawson has this really beautiful song called "I Like Giants" and I hadn't thought about it in a very long time, but as I sat outside, staring at the brightest night sky I've ever seen, I couldn't help but sing it in my head and smiling at how applicable and perfect everything in my little life is.

(Okay, I sing it out loud, too. I'm sure the goats loved my off-tune vocals.)

Enjoy.

When I go for a drive I like to pull off to the side
Of the road, turn out the lights, get out and look up at the skyAnd I do this to remind me that I'm really, really tinyIn the grand scheme of things and sometimes this terrifies me

But it's only really scary cause it makes me feel serene
In a way I never thought I'd be because I've never been
So grounded, and so humbled, and so one with everything
I am grounded, I am humbled, I am one with everything

Rock and roll is fun but if you ever hear someone
Say you are huge, look at the moon, look at the stars, look at the sun
Look at the ocean and the desert and the mountains and the sky
Say I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye

I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
When I saw Geneviève I really liked it when she said
What she said about the giant and the lemmings on the cliff

She said 'I like giants
Especially girl giants
Cause all girls feel too big sometimes
Regardless of their size'

When I go for a drive I like to pull off to the side
Of the road and run and jump into the ocean in my clothes
I'm smaller than a poppyseed inside a great big bowl
And the ocean is a giant that can swallow me whole

So I swim for all salvation and I swim to save my soul
But my soul is just a whisper trapped inside a tornado
So I flip to my back and I float and I sing
I am grounded, I am humbled, I am one with everythingI am grounded, I am humbled, I am one with everything

So I talked to Geneviève and almost cried when she said
That the giant on the cliff wished that she was dead
And the lemmings on the cliff wished that they were dead
So the giant told the lemmings why they ought to live instead

When she thought up all those reasons that they ought to live instead
It made her reconsider all the sad thoughts in her head
So thank you Geneviève, cause you take what is in your head
you make things that are so beautiful and share them with your friends

We all become important when we realize our goal
Should be to figure out our role within the context of the whole
And yeah, rock and roll is fun, but if you ever hear someone
Say you are huge, look at the moon, look at the stars, look at the sun
Look at the ocean and the desert and the mountains and the sky

Say I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
I am just a speck of dust inside a giant's eye
And I don't wanna make her cry
Cause I like giants

Happy 4th from Hohoe.

Last year’s Fourth of July was spent driving through the Californian desert drinking Bud Lime-a-Ritas with the sunroof down and the music loud. It was as American as it could get.

This year, I’m in a little town in Africa, with red polish on my toes, blue on my fingers and an American flag bandana wrapped around my head, trying to channel my inner patriot from an ocean away.

My mother recently asked me when I “stopped hating patriotic shit.” (Her words, not mine.)

And it’s true! I used to loathe anything red, white and blue. This is about the same time I thought looking at scenery and sunsets was a waste of time and I didn’t speak to her for a week when she bought a vintage wooden boat instead a fast, shiny fiberglass one.

It’s safe to say my tastes have changed over the years.

After touring the country in an RV, going coast-to-coast meeting great humans and seeing the vast diversity of landscapes and stories that comprise America, I am more than proud to call it home.  

So today, in honor of the independence of my dear nation, I will drink a beer (No Lime-a-Ritas in Hohoe, unfortunately), eat hard corn off the street and sing the national anthem at the top of my lungs.