Day 18

Day 18 of Ghana

On Saturday, we are going to the open-air market in Madina. Everyone who hears me say that gives me the same look--a very expressive look. Having seen it on so many faces, I think I can now translate pretty accurately the complex message it contains.

It goes something like this. "You, dear little naive obruni, have NO idea what you're getting yourself into."

After sending me this telepathic encouragement, most people then proceed to offer advice in the more standard form of communication. As a result, I usually leave the conversation with a fluttery butterfly in my stomach, tapping out yet another message in what I guess is Morse code on my intestinal wall. I don't know Morse code, but I have a feeling translating it would be less than helpful.

At any rate, we are going. We had planned to get to the market by tro-tro, which is the cheapest transportation here, but Grandma Judy saw what one actually looked like when she went to the hospital with Baby M yesterday. We are now taking a taxi. Speaking of Baby M, she is doing much better now, but could still use lots of prayers.

On another note, I had a moment of deep and unmerited pleasure today. It happened in the evening, after yet another grueling game of football. I was talking to Grandma Judy and Ms. Romana about various things when someone (I wonder who?) brought up food. Many tantalizing delicacies which are not easily available here were discussed. These included such extravagances as broccoli, salad, spaghetti sauce, and margarine. I mentioned that I had an insatiable craving for fruit, particularly oranges. "Oh, you can get those here!" Ms. Romana was quick to reassure me. "They don't have the nice thick peel like you are used to, but you cut them and, you know" --she then began to eat an imaginary orange, bending back the peel and sucking the "meat" inside. I could almost feel the juice dripping down my chin.

Did you all know that God is good? He is. REALLY good. Because after our dinner that night, we were walking past the kitchen back to our rooms when Mercy (the cook) stopped us. "Would you like some?" she asked, holding out a slice of something light yellow and juicy and wonderful. An orange. Of course. And what an orange! The BEST slice of fruit I've ever tasted. A small pleasure, you might say. Except that a pleasure is not measured by its size, but how much you want it. And in that respect, this was no small thing. Oh yes. He is SO GOOD.

Happy birthday Jeremiah! You are an awesome brother! Enjoy being 8.

~Rachel~