You don't know Jack-Buduburam Refugee Camp, Ghana

My favourite questions that I have been asked in Ghana and the answers I gave:

Q: What is malaria like?
A: The flu. Headache, sore throat, body aches, extreme tiredness, fever, hot and cold flashes. (I recovered in a little less than a week)

Q: Why did you make us slaves?
A: Although I did not make anyone a slave, I think it was just because the people at the time could do it, so they did. It was a profitable business. Maybe they saw Africans as a lesser being because of their skin color and the way they chose to live. (This was my first week here; welcome to Ghana)

Q: Isn't Julian a girls name?
A: No. (No one here has heard the name Julian before except the Ivorians because they speak French.)

Q: Condoms really ruin the experience of sex for me, as soon as I see one in the bedroom, I'm just not interested anymore. What should I do?
A: I'm not going to be there at the moment so I can't tell you what to do. They make a lot of different condoms, maybe try another type. If none of them work, try to use other methods to prevent pregnancy and spread of disease. (During my AIDS/HIV community outreach)

Q: Have you ever eaten dog?
A: No. (and still no.)

Q: I know that giving a girl oral sex can give her lots of pleasure, but I know diseases can be spread that way. Would you give any girl oral sex if you are going to have sex with her?
A: Wait until you are in a relationship with a girl first. You should probably know her fairly well and know whether she has any STD's. Also if you are in a relationship or in love, that just gives you all the more reason to want to give her pleasure, and that makes the experience fun for you too. (This was followed by a discussion on American sexual culture versus African sexual culture. It was really enlightening.)

Q: What if you are in a relationship and the person loves you, but you don't love them back?
A: I don't think it works that. I think you both have to love eachother. (5 minutes later..."I love you, Julian.")

Q: What is the food like?
A: Rice and stew. Cabbage stew, pepper stew, groundnut stew, stewed potato greens. (I eat anywhere from 2-5 cups of cooked rice a day. If I don't eat any rice, I don't feel full.)

Q: Are you losing weight?
A: Yes, but I eat about twice as much as I did in the US. (I like to run in the mornings or play soccer. Also, walking is the main mode of transportation here. My guess is that I walk 4-8 miles a day in addition to any distance that I run.)

Q: What is the first thing you will eat when you get back?
A: A cheeseburger, then sushi. Really good sushi.

Q: Do you get homesick?
A: I haven't yet. I expected to be when I had malaria. When I travel I always feel homesick when I'm extremely tired or sick. (I do on occasion get overwhelmed with emotion. There are few people here who I consider close friends, and there are even fewer that I would talk about my emotions with. I sometimes tear up when I'm telling other volunteers outside the camp about the lives of some of my friends on camp. That's about as close as I've gotten to homesick)

Q: Do you miss home?
A: I miss my family and friends. I miss seeing familiar faces and getting hugs from people I know. I miss talking with people who have grown up in a similar situation to myself. (Sometimes I really just want to have someone here who can see the camp through the same eyes that I see it.  The other night the moon was really full and bright and beautiful and all I wanted was for someone I knew to be here to stare at the sky with me.)

If you have more questions, please post them on the blog wall and I will answer them. Thanks for all of the good questions so far!

Trapped, Stuck, or Home-Buduburam Refugee Camp, Ghana

"So, if the war in Liberia is over, why are there still 10,000 refugees in Ghana?"

Buduburam refugee camp was once home to about 40,000 Liberians that fled during the war years, 1991-2003.  It is now home to about 10,000 Liberian refugees and some Ghanaians and Ivorians. Many of the refugees have no means of getting home, some that have the means to get home cannot leave, and others feel that Buduburam is their home.

Trapped

When the refugees arrived in Ghana, they were issued refugee ID cards by the United Nations (UN). These cards ensured that the refugees would have a paid passage back to Liberia when the war ended. Children under 5 were not given cards because it was assumed that the parents could carry them during the journey; those children are now 25. Others were not given cards because they never registered or they came after the time that the UN was registering asylum seekers.Those without their card and without money to make their way back are now trapped. 

Stuck

Some refugees in the camp have the means to make the journey to Liberia with their family, but they choose to stay. They have the means because they are educated and have a job, maybe as a teacher. They either have the money or they have their ID card. But what would happen if all of the teachers left the schools and returned to Liberia? What would happen if all of the educated community members and skilled laborers left the camp? If those that lead the community returned to Liberia, they would leave behind a shattered community. They are stuck.

Home

Some refugees don't want to leave because they see Buduburam as their home. Many children came here when they were too young to remember Liberia; thousands of others were born on camp. Although their lives here have not been easy, they have still grown to know Ghana as their home. They know the camp and how it works. They know how to ask volunteers for money; they know how to survive. Why would they leave the world as they know it for the uncertainty of Liberia? The cruel realities and harsh living conditions of Buduburam are their home.

Thanks to everyone who has reached out to me to offer me support while I'm here. I've almost fully recovered from malaria and have started running again. 

The Day I Broke- Buduburam Refugee Camp, Ghana

I woke up this morning with a plan in my head to write a post to teach about language and culture here on camp. At 2:00 today that plan was shattered by a life changing moment.

Everyday in Buduburam, I have gotten multiple requests, some for food, some for money some for marriage. Everyday there has been an endless line of people at my door, asking to be my friend and asking for a little something to eat or asking for some money for water. It is left up the the international volunteer community to break the dependence of refugees on volunteers for donations. This is accomplished by funding sustainable businesses for the refugees and providing business planning and support.

With this in mind I have turned away many requests for money, suggesting they use the skills that they have told me about to apply for jobs and find work. Every day I have to look someone in the eye and tell them that I can't give them what they want and that there is too much need and not enough support. Today at 2:00 I broke and couldn't say no.

Grace invited me into her home and sat me down in a chair. Her child Blessing lay on the cement floor sweating and crying; her other child Favor toddled naked through the one room house.

Grace placed my hand on Blessings forehead. "She is burning; she has malaria and I have no money for the medicine. The children have not even had a bath today. We have no water. I can't even give my child a bath to wipe the sweat off and cool her fever." One tear rolled down Grace's cheek, then another from the other eye. "I can't buy them food; I don't even have ten cents to buy a gallon of water to wash Blessing." Tears rolled down her face, and she wiped them away in embarrassment.

My stomach lurched and knotted, and my eyes felt hot as they wetted with the tears that I held back. I thought about how full my stomach was after breakfast. I thought of the food waiting for me at home. I thought about how every other request for money or food had been from a smiling Liberian, but this one had come from a mother ashamed that she could not provide for her two children. I felt sick. I felt ashamed of myself. I felt ashamed for every bit of food and money I had ever wasted.

The full truth of the camp hit me hard:

She had nothing in her name; she lived in a rented house; her previous business had failed; she had five cents in hand and nothing else. She lives in a community toxic to her children's well-being. She lives in a community so saturated with supply that there is no money to be made by businesses. She, her children, and the 10,000 other refugees in Ghana are growing up in a community that holds no future, no chance for advancement, and few escapes to success. She and many others are trapped here; they are unable to afford the trip home to Liberia and unable to survive in Ghana. Many children were born into this camp with nothing, and many will die here with nothing.

Football- Buduburam refugee camp, Ghana

I awoke at 5:15 this morning, just as the sun rises; as I arose I listened to the rhythmic brushing outside of my neighbors clearing their front step with a hand brush. Brush, scrape, brush. Brush, scrape, brush. I stretched and drank my morning bag of water as I waited for Alvin to "carry" me to the football pitch. We were two of the first players there.

"Let's go." he called as he started his lap near the goal. All the way around the field, "One." Again, "Two." Again, "Three, four. It's time for stretching."

After we warmed our bodies we started passing the ball around. I had quit soccer at age 9 because I no longer loved the sport. My coach had kept the game from being fun, and I no longer wanted to play. I can't imagine a better way to start again. Alvin and I ran the length of the field passing the ball. As we approached the goal, he lofted the ball into the air just in front of the goal. "Shoot it," he called as the ball neared me. Pank! The ball flew just over the top right corner. "Not bad, now again." We dribbled and shot a few more times and Victor joined our game. Victor was a young man that looked like the plastic Under Armour models you see at Dick's, the one's that you see and think, "No human looks like that. Nobody has a body that perfect."

We passed in a triangle, juggled, attackrd the goal, switched positions. My kicks were strong, but lacked the consistency and accuracy that Alvin and Victor's kicks had. We played and sweat and ran and laughed until the field was full of players. As I grew tired and watched the other players kick and juggle and run, they broke into a song. They all came together in a circle praising Jesus and God for their lives and their blessings. They sang and sang, as Alvin pulled my into the circle. We thanked God for our ability to be here and to have the ability to wake up, and eat, and run, and play. The people I played with have so little when compared to Americans; many survive on 2 dollars a day, many share football cleats. But they have so much more than Americans in their hearts; they know that it is a blessing just to be here alive. I'm thankful to be here and share their thanks. I'm thankful to have rice and stew and water each day. I'm thankful to be alive

Pictures are up!

Saving the best for last- Deland, FL

From the instant I bought my ticket to Ghana, I have been waiting for the moment when the magnitude of this momentous trip would hit me. I'm leaving the country for three months; that's way longer than any other trip I have taken. I'm leaving for Africa; never been there before, I'm definitely an outsider. I'm headed to a refugee camp with no running water, what a foreign thought. And for the past month and a half, I have been excited for my trip, but I have felt no anxiety. I have been unaffected by the idea that my life is about to be uprooted and radically changed. But tonight, it hit me.

I chopped fresh mangoes, bananas, and strawberries as I prepared a fruit salad for dinner. The tedious task of chopping and slicing had become a delight. I thought, "When will I get this chance again?" The after dinner shower I took still lies fresh in my memory. Nothing feels better than a shower when you know that it will be the last one of its kind in a home you love. I hope that I can remember that shower all summer. My last shave on American soil was absolutely a hack job. The dull blades scraped my cheeks as remaining facial hair stood up and flipped the razor a last defiant F you. It was still the best shave of my life. All of my lasts were all the bests, the best cool blast of air as I opened the refrigerator, the best moonlit night, the best mosquito bite, the best everything. 

Everything that I took for granted suddenly mattered. They suddenly were tied so strongly to my emotions that even as I write this stupid blog about a shower and a shitty shave, tears stream down my face. Not tears of joy, nor tears of pain or sadness. Just tears of raw emotion, tears created from the memories of chopping fruit and lathering my hair. Tears created from putting on aftershave and packing my pillow. Tears...

And still I don't fear the loss of these items; put me anywhere for 3 months, and I'll survive with or without a refrigerator. Better yet, put me anywhere for 3 months and give me an awesome group of friends to support me, and I'll do more than survive; I'll live. 

Thank you to everyone for your well wishes and support. I can't wait to get to Ghana, and I know I can't fail with you guys behind me.

Jump 39-Rick's Skydiving, Petersburg, OH

As I stepped out of the door of the plane at 10500 feet, I felt that sickening suck-pop in my left shoulder. It had been four years since the last dislocation, but I knew instantly my shoulder was out of the socket. Not a second into freefall from the Cesna 206 I recoiled my arms from Henry and Chris and tried to assess the situation. I knew it was bad, but I wasn't sure how bad.

The group that had I left disheveled and confused maneuvered towards me as we plummeted towards earth. I locked eyes with Paul and waved him away from me while feverishly motioning to my limp left arm; at this point, regrouping would cause me more pain.  Somehow my message made it through the howling wind and chaos of the skydive, and Paul retreated back into the group.

I turned and tracked away from the group to deal with my problem. I knew how to get my shoulder back into the socket while on the ground. It was simple, I just had to raise my arm high above my head and allow gravity to pop-suck the joint back into place. Three times I raised my arm up, three times I tumbled like a rag doll through the sky, three times I failed. I checked my altimeter...6000 feet. I winced at the thought of how my shoulder would feel when my parachute opened. I grimaced at the thought of the alternative to not opening my chute. 5000 feet. I drew in a deep breath and reached for my pilot chute.

My arm slammed down and folded towards my waist as my parachute opened and sat me upright in my harness. The muscles and tendons in my left shoulder stretched as the joint moved in ways not designed by God. I screamed out every ounce of my deep breath as I let everyone on the ground a mile below me know how bad it hurt. I drew in a deep breath and regained my composure. I was alive, I had a good parachute above my head, and I was close enough to the dropzone to make it to the landing area. On the other hand, I had one arm to pilot and land a parachute made for two arms. I approached the landing area circling the only way I could, with right hand turns. At 1000 feet I breathed deeply and calmed myself. I knew the worst was over; I had two things awaiting me on the ground--a group of good friends and a rough landing. I made the final right turn towards the landing area. 100 feet. I reached across my head and grasped both brakes in my right hand in preparation for landing. I bent my knees and brought my legs together, ready to dissipate the energy of the immanent hard landing by rolling. 10 feet. I pulled the brakes down with every bit of strength I had.

I felt the soft grass on my feet followed by the mushy earth beneath it. I had made much softer landings on my feet, but none had ever felt so nice. I immediately doubled over and held my shoulder. "What can we do?" Chris, Henry, and Paul all chimed in. "I need a packing weight. I need to get this back in the socket before all of the muscles freeze up." I grasped the 15 pound weight and let my arm hang limp above my head as I remained bent over. I drew in one more deep breath and relaxed each muscle in my shoulder one  by one. Pop-suck "It's in."

The end of an era- Morgantown, WV

"Moving on is simple, it’s what you leave behind that makes it so difficult" -unknown


As I stand peering into the unknown darkness of my future, I look back to capture any wisdom that might remain on the path that brought me here. Throughout the past four years I have discovered my love of travel through the hands of my best friend, first love, and girlfriend Anna. We have traveled across the country and around the world together; we haven't been without each other for more than a week or two in the past four years. We have been serenaded in gondolas in Venice, laid on the beaches of Turkey, partied during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, seen the showgirls in Vegas, jumped out of planes in San Francisco, and been to Disney in LA. Each new travel with Anna added to my wanderlust. Like a snowball rolling down a hill, with every moment my desire to experience new places grew.


And Anna was there to foster the growth of my love for travel. The thought of seeing her smile and blink her Bambi like eyes back at me was enough to keep me in high spirits during trips when sleep was scarce and stress was high. The thought of enjoying the best, freshest. weirdest food with her on each trip was enough to keep me planning our trips late at night as I lay awake in my bed with my eyes straining to see the computer screen.


And even beyond our own trips, she encouraged me to travel with friends, and she pushed me to plan those trips as meticulously as I had the trips with her. She thought of dangers I might never have thought of;  she shaped me into the traveler that I am. 


I am who I am because of Anna. I spend every dollar I have on plane tickets because of her. I dream of new worlds to explore because of her.  I am a  professional traveler because of her. 


Thank you for four great years, I hope your next four are even better.
Goodbye for now, Anna.