Rasheed

I have been thinking about Rasheed a lot lately and I have finally decided to tell you about him.

Rasheed lives outside of Kumasi, Ghana. He attends the Amazing Grace Preparatory school that I worked with in July. He was in class 6 while I was there, so he should be in class 7 now.

I never talked to him very much. I spent most of my time in class 4. But when I did talk to him, I was overwhelmed and confused by the despair and hope that I saw in him.

The last week I was there he asked me if I could pay for his schooling. I had already committed to pay for two other girls and I had no income at the time, so I didn't have enough money and I told him that I couldn't help. I HATED telling him I couldn't help, especially when I saw the hope begin to dissipate and the despair begin to consume. Wishing for his hope to return, I told him I would pray for him and look for a sponsor when I went back home. Sure enough, his hope returned and he smiled at me, but then a new anxiety washed over him and he said: "Don't forget me."

Every day in that last week he would come to me and ask me his name. Every day I would say, "yes, Rasheed, I remember you." And on the last day I was there he wrote down his name and handed it to me.

Then he said it again: "Don't forget me."

Rasheed is probably getting ready to go to school right now. (Yes, they have school on Saturdays.) He is probably wearing the same yellow-shirt and brown-shorts uniform that he wears everyday. He will do the school thing in the morning, devour his lunch that the school provides for the students every day, and then play soccer in the scorching heat.

I miss him. I remember him. But when it comes down to it, remembering him is not what he needs. He needs help. He needs money to pay for an education and food on the table. I feel ashamed that I haven't found him a sponsor. I haven't tried hard enough. When he heard me say that I would look for a sponsor, he pictured me flying to wealthy America where no one is in need, everyone has more than enough, and someone would definitely be able to help him. How could I not find someone?

But somehow, in the wealthiest country in the world, I have found no one.

It costs 30 dollars every month to sponsor a child at the Amazing Grace Preparatory school through their partners, Adom Partnership International.

For the month of November, I have probably spent nearly 30 dollars on coffee and lunch. Why so much? First, I love coffee. Second, I make my lunch in the morning before work, but too frequently I have run out of time in the morning and decided to buy my lunch at a nearby deli.

What a waste of 30 dollars.

Well... you have just witnessed something:
I have just convinced myself to sponsor Rasheed.
Haha.

It might mean making my lunch the night before work, but I think I can handle it. Quite an application to my blog: I remembered Rasheed, and now I am going to adjust my life accordingly. hahaha. I never thought this stupid blog would work that well on me.

And since I can't resist:
If you are interested in sponsoring a child at the Amazing Grace Preparatory school, please let me know! There is a link to the right for Adom Partnership International, the supporter of the school. The link explains a lot about the Parntership and the school, so I suggest you check it out.

My grandma fell down the stairs

and broke her neck.

She broke it in the best place possible - at the very top where it is most difficult to damage the spinal chord. She has a HUGE brace, she is in quite a bit of pain and very uncomfortable, and she is home with nothing to do but be uncomfortable.

My shower is annoying. The hot water connection is aweful. To have a warm shower in the morning you have to turn the hot water all the way on - which comes to a full blown drizzle :/ . If you want any sort of water pressure, you have to turn on the cold water and settle for an almost-warm shower.

My 13-year-old neighbor's dad died about 2 weeks ago.

My ignition is broken. Ever day when I go to work I fight with my car for 2 minutes, begging it to let go of my key.

I feel like an idiot at work. I have no clue what I am doing.

In the last week or so I have developed a really annoying problem. I'm suddenly lactose intolerant. yep.

So..... Why do I say all this? Don't worry, I'm not complaining.



My work is too lazy to give me a parking permit for the month of November because I started in the middle of the month. Since I have no permit I have to stop at the security window every day to get my parking stub. I see the same, kind, old man every morning and every morning our greetings to each other become more and more familiar. I am always in a hurry when I rush into the parking lot, but then I remember that I get to see the awesome parking dude with the parking stub and the warm greeting.

This morning he looked at me through the window and said with his beautiful accent:
"If I don't see you later, you have a BEAUTIFUL, WONderful Thanksgiving."
I have never heard a stronger wish for a happy Thanksgiving. He pulled out the most elaborate words he could think of with his second-language English, and each word was supported by his whole-hearted sincerity.


This man - who is barely more than a stranger - reminded me how really thankful I am.


I am thankful that I don't yet have a parking permit. I would be missing out if I didn't get to know the parking dude.

My grandma is 77. She could have been paralyzed, bed-ridden, or killed falling down those stairs. She is home with her husband who is taking really good care of her. She is alive and physically capable of healing. She also has this really cool-looking bump on her head. In fact, this is the second time this year she has escaped death (the first time being when she and my grandpa had carbon monoxide poisoning). God isn't done with her yet.

All summer long I had to deal with really crappy showers. I had 7 weeks of cold-water bucket baths, which really weren't that bad, but nice, hot, long showers are definitely my favorite. I shared a bathroom with up to 7 people, where taking longer than 5 minutes wasn't an option, and in Ghana and Manila, the feeling of being clean lasted for about 15 seconds because of the thick humidity... It is really nice to have a shower with running water, two bathrooms to share with my two housemates, and good old, dry, California weather.

I get to see my 13-year-old neighbor often. I hate what he is going through, but I am glad I am here. I am so grateful to be able to be in his life - and hopefully to help positively influence it. I have already been blessed by the short amount of time I have spent with his family, praying with them and listening to his mother when she needed to talk and cry.

My car is now almost 17 years old and it gets about 24 miles to the gallon on the street and 30+ miles to the gallon on the freeway. This car has treated me well and taken me thousands of miles. I am so thankful that I have such a reliable car and can afford the gas.

I LOVE my job. I work for the woman who's job I want as soon as I know what I'm doing (which will maybe be in 10 years or so). It took me over a month to find this job, and it was well worth the wait. I am never bored - being challenged with every project. My supervisor hands me work and then tells me that I probably won't know what I am doing. When I show her what I did and tell her I didn't know what to do with the rest, she thanks me for the work and then patiently explains everything. I have no clue what I am doing, but I am learning more than I thought I ever could.

Praise Jesus for soymilk.

there is SOOO MUCH to be thankful for.

so much.

My grandparents, neighbors, parking dude, home, car and coworkers have been huge blessings in my life - not to mention my parents, the rest of my family, my housemates, my friends, my mentors, etc.

What are you thankful for?

By the time most of you read this, I'm guessing it won't be Thanksgiving anymore, but thats okay.

I hope that it was BEAUTIFUL and WONderful.

the women at the salon

I start my new job tomorrow.

In 8.5 hours to be exact.

And I can't sleep.

I think its the caffeine I had earlier today.


When I was in Kumasi, Ghana....
I had to get my hair braided. I wanted 100 little ones. There were about 5 salons along the street where I was living and I couldn't pass up the opportunity. My Ghanaian friend, Lydia, took me to the nearest salon and told the women what I wanted. Lots of little braids. They were amused. A red-headed white girl wanted to be like the Ghanaian women.

It was a slighlty awkward situation, but totally worth it. One of the women had gone to school through 4th grade so she knew about as much English as I know Spanish. She was excited to work with my strange hair and practice her English with me. She was extatic when I told her my Ghanaian "day name" was Akosua (pronounced Akossia, meaning I was born on a Sunday). Another woman came in who knew quite a lot of English and was extremely eager to show off her language abilities. Of course some of the kids came over to watch me get my hair braided. One of them was so scared of me that when she saw my face she started crying. They ended up having to take her home. haha.

This all happened in the first 45 minutes or so.

It took them 4 hours. four.

And most of the time there were at least three women simultaneously working on my hair.

After the excitement caused by a white girl being in the salon wore off they all started talking to each other in Twi (the local language). I became a fly on the wall, my head being pulled and tugged in all directions, my hair all over the place, my butt going numb. I just sat there watching them interact, making jokes (some most likely about me), discussing some seemingly boring things, some other clearly important things, and some random stuff. The kids kept running in and out, sometimes trying to convince the crying girl to come back. (That story ends happily: she became my friend.)

I think 5 women total worked on my hair. The total cost: 30,000 cedi, also known as $3.33.

5 women. 4 hours. 3 dollars.

I could almost not bare giving them so little. I was able to squeeze in a 10,000 cedi/$1 tip. Giving them more than that would have been insulting.

Spending those 4 hours watching them made me want to know them. I wanted to know what they were talking about, why they were laughing, why they were getting excited, why they sounded disappointed. I wanted to understand them. All I could do was give them 4 dollars.

I took some pictures with them. And I said "medase pa" ("thank you very much") over and over again. I said hello to them afterwards every time I walked by the salon. They were always there - every day - doing someone's hair.

Its 12am here which means its, I think, 9am in Ghana. You know what that means? They are probably in the salon right now: waiting for a customer, working on someone's hair, or talking about something really funny in Twi.

I start my job tomorrow, or today I guess. It took me about 6 weeks to find it and all I could find was a part-time position. But I am making way way way more than $3 every four hours. And I don't have to hope for business. I just have to fill in my time card. I even get to work where I want to work. In fact I was extremely picky when I looked for my job. Not only that, but I get to use the degree I was fortunate enough to obtain.

I miss those women in the hair salon and I pray that God blesses them with more business than they can handle this week.

I pray that I remember them when I begin to be ungrateful about my job, because I know I eventually will. I pray that I'll think about the time when I was sitting on their floor with my numb butt, watching them live their extremely difficult lives with hope, joy and love. I pray that I will think about the woman who had to leave school in the fourth grade to start working and supporting her family.

I pray that I will work joyfully for them just as they did for me.