A Look Back at June's Volunteer Trip to Sankofa

For a few more pictures and stories from our June 2008 volunteer trip to Sankofa Children's Home and School in Ghana, please go here! (I'm afraid I was too lazy to repost all those pictures again on this blog...) These are some new pictures taken by several of the volunteers, with the stories that go with them!

Obies at Sankofa!

Sarah, who we've mentioned here before as a volunteer at Sankofa, has returned with a group of Oberlin students to Sankofa! They lived in Eguafo for the last month and just returned home. They were able to work with David to get a great deal of administrative things done to help the school and home. If you would like to read more about the fantastic job they did, please visit their blog!

Classroom Chaos-- A Day in the Life of an Orphanage Volunteer Teacher in Ghana

I walked into the classroom at New Life with great trepidation. A tremendous noise was coming from that room, and I dreaded what I would see.

I saw children, children everywhere. Classes 1, KG1, KG2, and Nursery were all held in this room. That meant 50 children ages 2 to 7 in one room. If you've never seen that many kids of that age together, you wouldn't believe the noise that can be made.

I wanted my verandah back.

Some of the Nursery class eating lunch, 2008

In 2005, I had taught the nursery class at the orphanage on a verandah because there were no classrooms. Back then, Nursery had consisted of ten kids between 2 and 7 years old. Though it wasn't a real classroom, it was at least our very own. I didn't know how I was possibly going to teach the fifteen or so children that now made up nursery in a room this noisy. Not to mention the fact that nursery now really meant nursery-- none of the kids in the class were older than 4.

Shallee on the verandah with the nursery class, 2005

Catherine waved me over to the bouncing, chatting nursery corner. We would be teaching together, which I was happy for. Not only would we be able to help each other, but I was happy to have finally met Catherine, whom I'd only had email contact with previously. The teaching began. It consisted of us shouting out colors, numbers, and stories, trading places when our voices got tired. Coloring was my favorite part of the day because it didn't require me to yell, but I did eventually lose my voice for about a week.

Alice, left, and her friends color in nursery, 2008

And yet, hard as it was, I was happy to be back at New Life teaching. Though I was only there every other day because of my responsibilities at Sankofa, I loved being back in this familiar place. I loved looking across the room and seeing Benjie and Adjoa, who had been in my original nursery class, busily writing in their books in class 1, knowing I had had at least a small hand in helping them get there. I loved talking with the kids in my new class in Fante, trying to help them understand the very basics of education. I loved playing with the children at breaktime, and watching them on the new playground equipment. I loved getting to know Catherine, my fellow teacher.

Shallee on the playground with some of New Life's children, 2008

But I definitely did not love that classroom. It severely limited the learning potential of all the children-- there were just too many of them in one room. New Life is now trying to build an additional classroom onto the school building, hoping to separate the classes so they can actually hear their teachers speak. If you would like to donate to this project, please head over to Catherine's website, Children's Helpers Worldwide, and make a donation to New Life's classroom fund!

Shallee and Catherine outside the classroom with some of the children, 2008

Meet Michael of Sankofa

As I tumbled out of a taxi onto the street of Eguafo, Ghana for a day of teaching at Sankofa, I felt tired. Maybe part of it was that the whole cram-six-people-into-Kojo's-taxi-for-an-hour stint was getting a little old; I love my husband, but sitting half on his lap and half on the metal wire sticking out of the taxi seat was not my idea of quality couple time. Glancing back at the other volunteers extracting themselves from the car, I could tell they were a little sick of it too.

After paying Kojo, we all began to troup down the street toward the trail that would lead us into the village and thence to school. While kicking up orange dust and shouldering my backpack, I was hissed at by a man nearby. Don't worry; hissing is simply a way of getting attention in Ghana. I once saw a Ghanaian man do it at the New York airport. He got pretty frustrated when the airline attendant didn't seem to pay any attention to his obvious efforts to get help.

But I digress. I turned my head to the hissing man, who held the hand of a tiny, chubby-faced child. He spoke to me in Fante, then tried to pass the child's hand to me. I looked at him blankly until he managed to say, "School. You take."

I smiled and nodded, reaching for the little fingers. They were yanked away and I was given a glower all the more impressive considering the giver was maybe three years old. I tried to comfort him by saying, "Bra. Yeko skool." (Come on, let's go to school.) Giving a half-angry, half-fearful squawk, he shrank against his guardian's legs. When I squatted down and held out my hand again, the little man bravely stepped forward, waved a hand at me, and declared loudly, "Ko!"

I began to laugh. He was telling me in no uncertain terms to go away and I couldn't help but admire his tenacity. His guardian shrugged and grinned, taking the little hand again and following us to school.

That wasn't the last time I saw Michael, as I learned he was called. His cheerful, determined little demeanor was very endearing and he became my favorite of the younger children. My husband also came to enjoy the little one. Here he is playing with Michael, in the red and white, before the PTA meeting.

It seems I am destined to love little boys named Michael. I have a little one at each orphanage now, though New Life's Michael is grown to a young man of 14 and doing well in junior high school. Sankofa's little Michael still has many years ahead of him. Please donate to save Sankofa today, and help Michael to be a young man who goes on to get a good education.

Learning to Lead

When I asked my husband in August of 2007 if he'd go to Ghana with me if we arranged a group of us to go, I had no idea what I was getting into.

I had been to Ghana. I had sent three other volunteers to Ghana. I had been working on the advisory board of a non-profit organization for two years. I had minored in African studies and read voraciously anything on Africa, development, and non-profits I could get my hands on. I knew what I was doing, right?

Yeah, right.

Ready to leave Accra for Cape Coast.

For nearly a year after that, I found out exactly how much I didn't know. From recruiting the volunteers to holding monthly meetings to fundraising to flights to arranging for us to volunteer in a brand new orphanage I'd never been to...it was insane. There was so much stress involved in arranging for 14 people to travel to and volunteer in a foreign country, much that I hadn't anticipated. Luckily, I had a lot of help from my dear hubby, as well as Jessica, a girl I'd previously sent to Ghana who agreed to be the coordinator for one of the groups.
Hanging with the monkeys at Boabeng Fiema Monkey Forest.

It wasn't til we left that I really started to feel the weight of what I was doing.

I had been to Ghana, yes. But I had been alone. I was all I had to worry about until I got over myself and started worrying for and loving the New Life kids more. This time, it was different. I was mama duck to five little ducklings who were in a whole new world. Yes, they'd had training, but nothing prepares you for the real thing. The weight of responsibility was incredible, especially considering we were hosted in three separate locations. We were in a third world country, and I had taken responsibility for their well-being, health, and to see that we accomplished our volunteering goals. Were they getting enough water? Did they know the way to the bank? Did they know how to catch a taxi and then go back home? Were they getting overwhelmed with culture shock and homesickness? Were they getting overwhelmed with the responsibilities of teaching? Did they feel like they were doing enough work, or had too much? I was constantly focused on making sure they were taken care of, and it was so much more taxing than I ever would have thought.

Saying goodbye to Green Turtle Lodge.

And yet, they were wonderful. They were responsible. They all quickly rose to the occasion, worked with the slight chaos and unstability that is a third world country, and came out on top. They learned to take taxis on their own. They learned their way around town. I eventually felt comfortable enough to take every other day to go to New Life, trusting that they knew what they were doing. Even then, though, I was constantly focused on making sure they were doing okay. I had carefully planned how I wanted things to go in Ghana before I left-- the things I wanted to get done while there. Almost none of it happened. Yet, in the end, that was okay.

Teaching them how to read.

Because we still got great work done. A few kids learned their ABC's. Some learned that letters have sounds. Still others learned that sounds could be pieced together to make words. And six people who left the USA as practically strangers returned as friends, teachers, and people changed for the better. In some ways, it was so much harder than my first trip, yet I am so grateful I had the chance to lead those people out there, and to learn a bit more myself.

Last day at Sankofa with David and a few of the teachers and kids.

Elizabeth- A Virtuoso Pianist in the Making

One of the things I wanted to do on this most recent trip to Ghana was to teach the children to use the keyboard I knew another volunteer had left. I spoke with my old piano teacher, bought the beginner books she recommended, and had high hopes of eager and proficient students. I'm always an idealist.

Of course, things never work out the way you think they well-- especially in Ghana. It wasn't until my last day at New Life I actually managed to find time to pull out the books, bring in the batteries, and dig up the keyboard. I knew there wasn't much time, but maybe, I thought, I can at least teach them enough that they can use the books to teach themselves.

Most of the kids were either too busy or not interested to sit in on the lessons. Belinda, Elizabeth, and Ophelia were the most interested. I taught them about the different beats each note gets. We clapped through several sections, trying to get the timing right. To my surprise, Elizabeth could clap out each pattern almost flawlessly.

And that wasn't all. As I began to teach them which keys were which note, she began to zip through the songs that labeled each note. She wasn't actually reading the music, but she was able to read the labeled notes and remember exactly which ones were which on the keyboard. And she kept perfect time. Belinda and Ophelia did pretty good too, but whenever they got the timing or note wrong, Elizabeth immediately corrected them. I was astounded. She was a natural.

Belinda, Elizabeth, and Ophelia check out the next song in the book.

We played through some more songs, and I let them look at the part that began to explain the actual reading of music. Elizabeth was fascinated, and delighted with herself for being good at something naturally. We weren't able to get far, but far enough that Elizabeth at least would be able to follow the simple instructions in the book to continue learning. I don't know if she will, or if the others will either. There are many things they need to do with their time, but I hope Elizabeth and any others who desire are able to keep learning. If any volunteers go back who know how to play, see if you can pull out that keyboard, pull up the piano books I left, and give it a go!

The Return to New Life International Orphanage

New Life International Orphanage is where I spent my first four months in Ghana. In early 2005, it consisted of one and a half buildings-- a half-finished school and one building containing one classroom, two bedrooms (one for girls, one for boys), two rooms for the caretakers, and a storage area. Almost 50 children were housed there, and 5 school classes. My own nursery classroom was held on the veranda. There was no place to eat, they cooked outside, and there were no toilets.

New Life in 2005. The brown building to the left is the unfinished school.

Three years, later, I was astounded as I walked down the hill to see the changes that had taken place. I had seen pictures since I left, but nothing can change your own mental image of a place except seeing it again in person. The school building is now complete, meaning there's more sleeping room in the home, there are mosquito nets for all the children, a store to earn money, an enormous farm, a playground, a dining area, a kitchen, toilets, and a new home being built so the children have more room to live and play. The buildings were painted pink and brown, and flowers housed in pots made of tires decorated the land in front of the home.

View from the playground-- the school building. To the right is the dining area and home.

Of course, it was the children I really wanted to see. Danny and I had come late into the afternoon, and for a moment it seemed no one was around. Then Emmanuel came out of the house. My throat tightened as I hugged him for the first time in three years, and we both laughed. He told me all the older ones were working on the farm, behind the new house, and he would take me there. Then Ophelia came dashing out, her beautiful face glowing with a smile I remembered well. More laughing, hugging, crying, talking. She was taller.

The little ones came around as we headed to the farm, swarming me. With a start, I recognized one of the taller, chatty boys. "Benjie!" I cried. He grinned up at me, but I knew he didn't remember me. Though I taught him for four months, he had been only two and a half at the time. I hugged him anyway. There were many clustered around him that I didn't recognize-- new faces since three years ago. One girl, seven years old and small for her age, like they all were, giggled as the little ones started chanting my name: "Shallee, Shallee..." They pronounced it "Shelly," like always, and I had to smile as they dragged her over. "Shallee, Shallee!" they cried, pointing at her. Her name was Shallee, or "Shelly" too. Still giggly, but shy, she pulled away to the back of the crowd.

As we walked, I picked up little Domenic, also named for a previous volunteer, and carried him Ghana-style on my back. More faces that I knew, more joyful hugs: Frank, Angelina, Comfort, Dorcas, Mary...some shy, some not, some that probably didn't remember me well. I talked with them out in the field, and they sang me a song they remembered that I taught them: La Bamba. They still pronounced the Spanish words perfectly.

Drumming Time!

That day remains now in my memory as very sweet-- yet also a little bitter. For three years, I had held these children in my heart and called them mine. I held fiercely to the idea that they were my children. Coming back, I realized the truth. I love them, as many volunteers since my time have loved them. They have grown, and changed, and though I still love them and some of them still remember and perhaps love me, they are not mine. They belong not to me, but to each other and to their full-time caregivers. That is their family. That is their life. I came for a short time only, and though I have shared my heart and my hands, that did not make them as wholly mine as I had so long thought. My heart had to break a little that day in order to open up and let "my children" go. That was the bitterness. The sweetness was feeling the love I still hold for them, and being able to physically hold them in my arms again.

Tales from the Trip-- Sankofa School

As already mentioned, our trip to Ghana was incredible. I'll start with a little bit of info about Sankofa Children's Home, where we spent most of our time. There were a total of 6 people in our group, and there was plenty to do! Sankofa has only been around for about a year and a half, so there is a lot they still need. The orphanage itself currently only houses 5 kids. We were able to help paint the rooms while we were there, and saw the coming of actual beds (they had been sleeping on mattresses on the floor). We were also able to help prepare some of the bamboo to build a new schoolhouse.Danny and Patrick, two of our volunteers, helping the kids prepare the bamboo for building.

The school is for kids from preschool to third grade-- preschool and kindergarten kids have school in a rented church, the others in a bamboo schoolhouse built by the director and teachers. Many of the kids still have a rough time in school, since they may not have attended school previously. The age ranges in the classes are a lot wider than they are in the US (i.e. 8-12 year olds in third grade). We were able to work out a system with the teachers where we took the children struggling in English and taught them phonics and basic English each day during their English periods. We were also able to buy some great new English books that the Ghana Education Department has put out. It was so incredible to see how the kids progressed. Some started to grasp the concept that each letter actually has certain sounds associated with it. Some of them went from not being able to read at all to being able to sound out words. And some, of course, didn't seem to make much improvement at all...but I suppose that's how it goes.

Class 2 hard at work in their classroom.

Sankofa is really an incredible place. David, the director, is only in his 20's, and is amazing! He lived on the streets a lot as a kid, and though he did attend school, he paid little attention. He finished the ninth grade at age 18 being unable to read and write. When he realized how much this could affect his life, he did the incredible-- he went back to the fifth grade at age 18, and went back through the ninth grade again. He now speaks, reads, and writes English very well. His desire was to ensure that other children would have this opportunity, and that is when Sankofa began. The teachers who work there are just as amazing-- they live on a salary of $20 a month and some walk miles to be there everyday to offer free education to impoverished children. Shallee and her husband Danny with David.

We had such an amazing time there, and felt so privileged to meet the children and the incredible people who run Sankofa.

McKenzie, one of our volunteers, playing a game with Monica (in the green) and another child.

Return from Ghana-- Photos of New Life and Sankofa

Our second team of volunteers has returned from Ghana! We had an incredible time, and were able to do a lot. Stories and information will be forthcoming; in the meantime, here are a few pictures! For even more pictures, see http://s280.photobucket.com/albums/kk162/Obruni/

Shallee teaching piano at New Life to Belinda and Elizabeth.

Abigail, Monica, and Philomena at Sankofa.

Katie, a volunteer, learning to play Ampe at Sankofa.

Painting the orphanage at Sankofa.

Shallee playing on the new playground with the kids at New Life.

Updates from Sankofa and New Life

Things have been wonderfully busy here in Ghana! The work at Sankofa is going well. Each day, we take the slower children from each English class to work on catching them up with their peers. Each volunteer takes 2 to 4 children, so they can get more specialized attention. The hope is that they will be able to grasp concepts like phonics while we're here, so that their English reading skills will be closer to where the rest of the class is when we leave. So far, the children have shown amazing progress. Some just needed a little bit more understanding of basic concepts and have really taken off. Others are still a little slower, but hopefully after we leave other volunteers will be able to do the same with the things we're leaving behind.

The teachers at Sankofa are truly wonderful. They give up so much of their own time for very little pay to help these children who would otherwise have no education at all. Though they learn under a bamboo roof with a dirt floor, the key is that they are learning.

New Life has grown in leaps and bounds since my last trip three years ago! The new building is nearly complete, and a new classroom is being built for the nursery children. At the moment, nursery, KG (kindergarten) 1, and KG 2, and class 1 are all in the same classroom-- this is obviously chaotic. There is not enough room for the children to properly learn, and there is far too much noise. The new classroom is going up quickly, however! It's a joy to watch the children play on the playground and to see the progression of those who are now three years ahead of when I last taught them.

We will be coming home in a week, and what a trip it has been! Pictures and video will be up when I get some time after coming home, and I'll post snippets and stories about the children and volunteers as well!

We're in Ghana!

Our second group is here in Ghana! We arrived in Cape Coast on Monday night, and things have gone well so far.

Yesterday, we went out to Eguafo to meet David, Sankofa's director. We waited for him for a while, and played with some of the children. Today was the start of our project. We were able to observe the teachers for classes 1, 2, and 3 and spoke with another volunteer named Sara who has been arranging for assessments to be given to the children. Our volunteers will take the slower learners and help them get up to speed as much as possible while we're here. Tomorrow we will help paint the orphanage while the assessments are given. The children are adorable, as all Ghanaian children are. As we get to know them we will post more about them.

We have not made it to New Life yet, but hope to do that tomorrow! I will update when I can, though internet is very slow here in Ghana. Even so, it's great to be here!

Good things Happening at Sankofa

Our volunteers in Ghana have had a great time! This is their last week, so here are some updates that have come through:

Most of the girls are at Sankofa. They have been helping build an addition to the bamboo school house, as well as helping teach the children. There have done rotations with the 80 children in the nursery class, as well as doing arts and crafts and some PE games with the older children. Classes 1, 2, and 3 had no books, and so were difficult to teach. After the volunteers provided them with books, they were able to do a great deal more teaching with the older kids!

Some of the children at Sankofa

Not much news from New Life yet, though word is they have gotten two new children in the last week.

We are so grateful for these volunteers and all they are doing! We wish them a safe journey home, and wish our June group a safe and successful trip as they prepare to leave!

They Have Arrived!

Our first group of volunteers has begun their three-and-a-half-week journey in Ghana! The group of eight volunteers arrived earlier this week, and have been getting oriented to Ghana, visiting a few sites, and dropping off several suitcases worth of donations to Lucky Hill Orphanage on their way out of Accra! Jessica, our group coordinator, has been in the country for an extra week preparing for their arrival.

The girls will be at Sankofa on Monday to begin teaching. Jessica will be at New Life, teaching and giving the square foot gardening a boost! More information will be coming soon as the girls begin their volunteering. We wish them all the best of luck!

Cape Coast-- A Small Sampling

Our first group to Ghana leaves a week from tomorrow! We are excited to hear how their trip will go. In the meantime, I'll post an exerpt from the book I'm writing. Perhaps our volunteers will become a part of this very scene.

"I close my eyes, sometimes, when I’m alone, and call up pictures in my mind of my favorite places in Ghana. Kotokuraba market. I see a flurry of color and motion, of heat and noise. Set in the center triangle created by three crossing streets, it is a place of commerce, confusion, and commotion. Taxis, tro tros, and a few private cars crowd the streets around it. Both taxis and tro tros, or small vans, function as mini buses, with people crammed in with their goods and the occasional goat. Across from the market is the “station,” where I would take a tro tro every day to the orphanage. Dozens of little VW vans crowded the area, all painted to proclaim the driver’s belief in Jesus. “The Lord will provide,” or “Gye Nyame”—except for God. Apparently, this proclaimed belief precluded a need for seatbelts. The drivers stood near their tros, calling out their destination. “Takoradi, Takoradi,” and “Jukwa Jukwa Jukwa Jukwa Jukwa!” Women and children wandered around, adding their own voices, like that of so many birds, proclaiming the wares atop their heads—water, bread, cookies. “Aeeees water,” “paaaanoo,” and “beeescuits!” One man marched through the area daily, holding an umbrella over his head that dangled with handkerchiefs of numerous colors and designs. Set in a large circle, surrounded by shops and flocking with hawkers, and only one way in or out, the station became a joyful place for me.

I became a common fixture there as well, a part of the pulsing mobs. After taking a taxi from my house to town, I “dropped” at Kotokuraba and found whoever was proclaiming “Jukwa!” that day. I always took a moment to buy “pure water” from one of the ladies or girls. Though it came in a plastic sachet like “ice water,” pure water was purified, its bag carefully sealed in a bloated square, and stamped with blue ink. I stuffed a few in my dirtier-by-the-day backpack and climbed aboard the tro tro. Somewhere between two and thirty minutes later, the tro pulled out—they only left when they were full. The ride took me through Cape Coast and into the suburb of Adisadel, then past Pedu Junction and to Abura, the suburb where my host’s sister, Mama Joyce, lived. After Abura came scattered jungle, a secluded hotel on a small crocodile pond called Hans Cottage, past the barren earth where women crushed rocks under small thatched shelters, and on to the tiny hamlet of Ansapatu—just short of the larger village of Efutu.

I called to the mate, the young boy who took passenger’s money, and the tro tro stopped. People in the aisle seats stood to fold their seats up and step out so I could crouch past, then piled back in again and headed on up to the town of Jukwa. I turned to Ansapatu, which consisted of a few small houses, a tiny shop, a school, and New Life International Orphanage. Smiling and waving at the women who sat among the enormous pile of greenish-yellow oranges they were selling, I headed down the red dirt hill, anxious to get to my children.

The orphanage was across the little lane from the orange and brown government junior secondary school (JSS), set nearly at the edge of the rainforest. It was painted a bland white with blue trim, and an unfinished three-room schoolhouse hunched next to it. A small orange tree stood near the front gate to the left, a palm tree further down. The refuse pile and laundry lines sat away from the school, near the large, overgrown area referred to as the garden. The cement basins where the children bathed were farther away, near the bushes where the “bathroom” was—a large pit crossed with wooden beams. A rickety wooden fence made a pitiful attempt to keep the goats out of the garden, and a painted sign declared it to be “New Life International Orphanage Home/School for orphaned, abandoned, and needy children.”"

Copyright Shallee M. 2008

Square Foot Gardening

So I just got back from training on square foot (or meter) gardening, and I just have to say that it is SO COOL!!

First, a giant thank you has to go to Karen Bastow, one of the key people involved with SFG in my area, for being willing to give us free training. She traveled so far out of her way to give of her time and knowledge and we are so grateful!

These gardening techniques are truly incredible. You can create an amazing garden in 20% of the space you would use in a traditional row garden. The use of composted soil gives healthier crops and a higher crop yield. It uses significantly less water than traditional gardens, and takes a fraction of the time to care for, since the method means almost no weeds. We were shown examples of SFG's in Kenya-- some that didn't work, and why, and some that were amazing successes. One small orphanage was able to stop buying vegetables completely, and were hoping to start another garden for food they could sell!

SFG was introduced at New Life last year, but due to various factors, has not done well since. We hope that in our groups this summer we can use new materials to train them, and truly get them involved! We hope to do the same for Sankofa, and for FFCI once we get established. If the people can get the concept and really do it, I am confident that it can help provide for the children. It's not meant to compete with farmers, but to work alongside them and to help bring more food to those who are in need of it. With our two groups going back to back, it hopefully gives us enough time to see how invested they are in the project, and to ensure that it can work. We are very excited! If you have any questions about SFG, check out their website above, or email me.

Fundraising and Sankofa Mbofra Fie Updates

The following is an exerpt from our fundraising letter:

"After several months as a volunteer at New Life International Orphanage, I thought I had seen just about every joy and trial a West African orphanage could bring—until the day a desperate father arrived. He stood in the dark, narrow hallway of the whitewashed building, clutching the hand of his little girl and holding his toddler son in his arms. He spoke only broken English, so the orphans helped translate his message. His wife had just died, leaving him with the two young children. As a fisherman who spent his days on the sea, he could not properly care for his children, and he had no one to leave them with. We were the third orphanage he had come to asking for help.

“Just small time,” he pleaded as he let go of his daughter’s hand to shift his son to the other arm. She came slowly to me, taking my hand and giving me an impish smile. “I come back when they big.”

The director of the orphanage was nowhere to be found, but I already knew we could not take in any more children—we were already overcrowded. And so, as the only adult there to speak with him, I had to let go of the little girl’s hand and say the hardest word I have ever had to say: no. As I watched him gather his children and trudge slowly up the hill to the road with a look of resignation and discouragement in his eyes, I knew I never wanted to say no to a cry for help ever again.”
Shallee McArthur
Volunteer Program Coordinator, Families for Children International

Please donate today! If you can't, but would like to help, please pass around the letter to friends and family. Click the link above and to find the full letter!

Now, updates and pictures from Sankofa! A new bamboo school house has been built-- a larger one to fit all of the classes. Previously, the older classes had to hold class under the trees. We're happy they now have the room they need!

The new school house being built.

Even with the schoolhouse, studying is hard when sharing a book with 8 other children.

Meet Betty Ampong, a student at Sankofa, wearing her uniform.

Missing Them-- A Volunteer's Perspective

One of the difficult things about being a volunteer is that, eventually, you have to come home.

It's been over two years since I've returned from my 4 months in Ghana. My life has gone on; I've graduated from college, gotten married, and have a steady job. My life is good, and I love it. And yet, the part of my heart that will always belong to my children still beats a little more painfully than the rest. Some days, it's so painful that the rest of my heart feels it too.

My husband came home from work one day to find me sitting quietly on the couch. For some reason, that day was a missing day. I can never tell when those days will come, or why, but they do come. He sat down and asked me if something was wrong, and I began to cry. He thought something had happened until I explained why I was crying. I missed them. I missed them so much that it felt like my heart was seizing.

Strangely, I even miss the ones I never knew, I think just for the fact that I never knew them. I receive pictures from other volunteers who have recently returned, and I don't recognize many of the New Life crew anymore. The ones I do recognize have changed. Adjoa has gotten so tall. Benjie is speaking English like a pro. They are growing and changing, and I miss being there for that.

As a volunteer, you give and serve and sacrifice for the children until you have given them everything that is in you. In return, they give you their love. You feel like they have become yours, like you are the mother of 50-odd children. And you know that dozens of other volunteers feel the same way, and that really, you were only there for so short a time and sometimes feel like you've done so little. Yet you still miss them; the mother you've become regardless of how many others came or how little time you spent cries out to hold your children.

Sometimes you get letters that tell you they still remember you, that they still sing the songs you taught, and you are happy. And it only makes you miss them more. I would never give up the feeling of missing them. If I didn't miss them, it means I didn't love them, and if I never loved them, my heart would never know what that love feels like. And that thought hurts more than missing them ever could.

Comfort, Small Elizabeth (Adjoa), Shallee, and Elizabeth

Volunteer at an Orphanage in Ghana, West Africa!

I am very excited to announce that next summer, Families for Children International, who has partnered with New Life International Orphanage in the past, is sending two volunteer groups to Ghana! If you would like to volunteer abroad, volunteer where you are, or donate, please visit http://familiesforchildren.googlepages.com/ and follow the directions on the main page.

Volunteers will be volunteering at Families for Children's new orphanage/school, Sankofa Mbofra Fie Orphanage, and possibly New Life International! Please note that this is not sponsored by NLI, but will hopefully do much to help the children there and at the other orphanages.

This is an incredible opportunity to do what you can to help children in need. Even if you can't volunteer abroad, we will gladly accept any and all offers to help, or donations toward the projects we will be doing while abroad. Until then, I'll leave you with this video of my own host family, as a taste of the experience you could have!

I Love you Forever

I dream about Ghana fairly frequently. Usually, I dream about going back, like last night. Sometimes it's a good
Michael, appx. age 12/13, summer 2006
dream, and sometimes a bad one. Last night, I dreamed about my Michael, but despite that, it was not a good dream.

Like most of the volunteers, I came back calling the kids "my kids." After loving them so much, I couldn't help but feel they were a part of me enough to call them mine. But more than any other, Michael is my Michael. He was only 10 when I was there, and at the time, he didn't live at the orphanage. He lived with his mother and came to school at the orphanage. I never really knew him until the day he began throwing up at school. He asked for a cup of water, which he used to pour over his feverish head, then promptly proceeded to shiver uncontrollably. With help from a local villager named Patrick, I took Michael home. Michael was so ill, Patrick had to carry him on his back most of the way. I swallowed as I ran through the symptoms of malaria in my head.

I had heard stories from others about poverty, and even seen bits of it my self up to this point in Ghana. But Michael lived in poverty; to him, it wasn't a word spoken with disgust on the tongues of those who may or may not understand it. It wasn't poverty for Michael, it was life. I stared mutely around the mud shack, barely as big as my bedroom, glancing up at the sky through the bamboo roof. There was no furniture but a low stool. Patrick to laid Michael down on the concrete floor in the half of the room shielded by hanging clothes: the bedroom. Michael's mother, Grace, didn't speak much English, nor did her brother, who had helped take care of the family since Michael's father had died. Patrick was my translator, as I explained how he had gotten sick and gave them clean water. Then, I took a deep breath and asked if I could pray for Michael.

He was roused to sit on the one stool, looking ready to fall over as soon as he sat. I began to pray as Michael's small family stood over me. As I prayed for Michael to get well, listening to the gently murmured "amens" coming from his mother and uncle, I suddenly felt the greatest outpouring of love I had ever felt for this small boy. It was as though I was feeling God's love for him, and I knew that, whatever happened, everything would be alright.

When I returned to check on him the next day, I saw the first miracle of my life: Michael's beaming face as he peered outside, then ran to give me a hug. From that day, I loved Michael as deeply as though he truly were mine. We played together, read Love you Forever together, and loved each other. I helped his family buy food, and gave them money to start a small business selling banku. But then I had to leave.

Michael (far right) with his mother, uncle, and cousins.

As I stood crying the day at the tro-tro stop on my last day, Michael held my hand and cried too. The tro-tro came, and I knelt to hug my Michael.

"I love you," I whispered.

"Forever," he whispered back.

Since that day, I have had a constant subtle ache in my heart that reminds me to pray for my Michael daily. Not too long ago, I received a letter from him through another volunteer, asking me to help his mother build a house. Having just married and needing to get my husband through school, I had no money to send, and my heart broke trying to explain to Michael through a letter that I could not build a house for his family then.

And so, the source of my dream. In it, I was playing with some of the children when I saw Michael. Bitterly, he upbraided me for forgetting him, for not helping him. In his voice I heard anger, and his sweet face looked full of hate and loss. I woke up and wanted to cry, and have not been able to stop thinking about it all day.

There has to be a way to help my Michael. God made a way for him to be healed. God can make a way for him to soar out of his poverty. And I will find that way, because he is my Michael, and I love him forever.

Me with Michael, May 2005

Photo Updates on New Life International Orphanage!

As mentioned earlier, some volunteers returned from NLI in July having had great success with several projects! Below are a few pictures from Andrea, who went with a team this summer.

The beginnings of the square foot garden! These gardens bring in more crops in less space with less water.

Volunteers handing out supplies.

Keyboarding! The boys especially loved this one.

Pernel is showing off some of the books made by students in America to add to NLI's library.

More musical stars! Daniel, Belinda, and Frank show off their new recorders.

The beginnings of soap making!

Dorcas proudly displays the finished soap. There is enough to use and to sell, so it's an income possibility too!

Other volunteers have posted some updated pictures on the Yahoo group. To see more, join by clicking the botton to the right!