Tag: happiness

Drumbeats

The sound of drumming is echoing from somewhere in the tangle of buildings across the road from where I stand. From behind my right shoulder the clinking and clanging of a motor-king draws ever nearer, and as it passes my eyes are drawn to the young boy who stands in the bed of the vehicle dancing along to the ghostly drum beats. With one hand loosely gripping the rail in front of him his feet are ever steady as he is shaken this way and that as the driver speeds over the potholes that decorate the small strip of paved road amongst all the dust.

I am standing in front of a small wooden table, covered in a large cooler full of spaghetti, Talia it’s called. Also on the table are several flats of eggs, some assorted bowls of sauce, and a few onions, tomatoes, as well as a partial cabbage. There is a girl, maybe about 15, behind the table who has come to know my face, my name, and how many eggs I like in my Indomie (think Ghanaian ramen). As I parked my bicycle minutes earlier, she ran over from her sitting place in the shade, started cracking eggs, and began lecturing me about how I had not been to visit her for some time. It’s been almost 2 weeks since the last time I made the journey from my small village to the district capital where she sells her food.

It had been so long because my bike tire had spoiled. Some small piece of metal had wedged itself through the tough rubber which is wearing smooth from the sand and rocks it must constantly work against as I travel to and fro around my small home. 2 days before when I had been at market, a man in a makeshift stall with a roof of woven grass had pulled the metal piece out of the rubber and fixed the hole it had left behind.

I worry my bi- (or sometimes tri-) weekly trips to visit the young girls who run all my frequently patronized stores may be drawing to an end. The sun has come with such a fury that some days it feels almost as though there is a God or God’s somewhere pushing the bright star closer and closer to the surface of the Earth. The leaves of the shea tree that serves as the teacher’s room at school have dried and fallen to the ground, leaving patchwork shadows we must try to contort our sweating figures into to find some small relief. The wind blows hot, the lights flicker on and off more frequently, and the water levels fall back a little more with each passing day.

They’re saying there are about two and a half months remaining until the rains we have been missing since October return to us. What was green and vibrant when I first came to this region is now brown and dry. Each footstep in the dry earth sends a cloud of dust out into the air. And still there is joy to be found.

Those who have grown up their whole life in this pendulum of a climate are not immune to the heat, but they find no sadness in it. The past few weeks have brought more drums and dancing that I have ever seen. Women carrying firewood on their heads that adds another 3 ft to their frames sway their hips to the music that beats constantly in the background, syncing the heartbeats of an entire community. We (And I say “we” now as I find my footing in this uneven soil) are not lost in the haze that covers the horizon line most mornings and evenings. As the sweat drips down our temples, and soaks through our clothes, we find more than ever there is hope and love, and most importantly, new life begining to blossom all around us. Laughter echoes as often as the drum beats. And I am no longer just surviving, WE are thriving.

Cheers.

Riding Bicycles Downhill and Other Fonts of Happiness

The sun is getting stronger as the rains recede back into their far away hiding places until the next time they will come to soak the dusty ground. Early afternoon has become plagued with heat like a heavy blanket which the small winds that whisper through the dry leaves on the trees cannot hope to lift. My eyes try to memorize the greenery of the landscape outside my door before it falls prey to the scalding power of the ray’s from our mother star and turn to orange dust like the rest of the town.

It is easy to lose sight of the green in all the dust sometimes. There are moments when the clouds of red Earth become so thick you feel you can’t walk forward without waving your hands wildly in front of you, trying to create a break for sunlight to stream through and light your way. It is easy sometimes to lose sight of what is to come. To be stuck in the muddy water of the moment, unsure of which way to turn, or how you ended up in this unfortunately damp place to begin with.

But as I fumble through each day, sometimes feeling lost, sometimes feeling on my way to being found there come moments that blow away the dust from my vision and my mind. They appear out of nowhere, I can’t seek them out, but these springs of joy in the desert, my small oases of happiness take as many forms as they can find.

Here is a short list of the fonts of happiness that have taken me by surprise:

1. Finding a fruit at market besides oranges and bananas (hello mangoes, papayas, and pineapple)

2. A child calling me by my name and not “siliminga”, the generic term for a white person

3. My students bringing me a giant bag of spicy peppers that I could never use all of in my two years here

4. My puppy chasing goats on wet concrete and sliding off the end of the school veranda when he can’t stop

5. Riding my bicycle fast enough downhill that I can physically feel my anxietes flying away

6. The electric blue birds that sometimes fly overhead when I am walking Alfie outside

7. The one woman at market who speaks no english but is always excited to see me wall by her small store

8. The small girls who work at my favorite store in the district capital who like to play math and spelling games with me when I stop by

9. Understanding and being able to respond to most of a conversation with anyone in my town in Dagbani and seeing how happy it makes them

10. Waking up to my puppy curled up in the bend of my knee in the morning

11. Cold water

12. Sunsets