obruni- [noun- o-broo-ni]- 1.foreigner 2. white person 3. has money and willing to spend!

I went to market again today. Barbra, who is the director of children here at Rafiki, needed to get some basic stuff for the kids and so I went with her. Never refusing to go to Accra, but more importantly trying to find my bread! We left this morning about 8:15 or so and because of traffic did not arrive in Accra until 10:45! Its only suppose to be a 50 minute drive.

Barbra and I made the best of it and actually sometimes its better when there is traffic because the market comes to you. This is what I love about Accra and the surrounding villages you can buy anything you want from your car. Toilet paper, (t-roll it is called here. Main rule in Ghana, never say "toilet paper!" It may sound silly, but don't try it.) dish soap, hankies, dresses, milk, bread, I mean anything! Joy and Dennis this year are going to have a Christmas where you can only buy from the car. And that doesn't mean they are going to skimp on anything, its nice stuff! Anyway, on the way we got a few things we needed which helped us on time and we got to get some stuff of our own.

We stopped at a French bakery and grabbed some danishes and bagels which were wonderful!!! Oh my were they good. Then Barbra took me to a smoothie shop she found. Its actually like a natural food store which I love! I had a fruit smoothie that was made with fruit taken off the tree that day. How much better can you get than that? That's rhetorical because you can't. We got some other things that were needed outside of market and then we traveled in.

As we walked into market I noticed that my ear for Twi is getting better already. The kids are not suppose to speak Twi in the dining hall but they do and so i hear it a lot. I can recognize Twi for "how are you?" I can't say it, but i know it when I hear it. I kept hearing people say "Obruni!" "Obruni! Are you German?" "Where you from, Obruni?" "Obruni, look at my stuff!" I'm very familiar with that word because I was forewarned about it when i got here. It isn't degrading, or I never saw it that way, its just another word for "hey white girl, I don't know your name, but clearly you are not from here."

I finally realized how to more affectively explain marcola, or the market. Marcola is an inside out Wal-Mart, Target, outlet mall, thrift store thing. There is the toffee aisle (candy). Then there's the fabric and sewing aisle, followed directly by luggage and into food and produce. Knick-knacks are just about everywhere. I see people selling stuff and i say to myself "who needs that? why would someone devout their head (literally, they sell all this stuff from their heads) to selling what we would find at the cash register at Wal-Mart?" Because people buy it, that's why. I don't, but then again I'm not the only one buying at Marcola.

After we bought the laundry detergent Barbra had to go and buy some t-roll and it was my job to get the porter, young girl, carting the load of 2 fifty pound bags of laundry soap on her head back to the car, by myself. Now, usually I have a pretty good sense of direction, but not when it comes to marcola. There are no street signs in Accra. Streets may have names but no signs. So I knew that when I got to luggage take a left and walk to the Chinese district and our car was on the right below the three towers. If I was by myself walking to the car I would have no problem but because i have a 12 year old with me carryin g a hundred pounds on her head of course i got lost. I had my cell phone so I was quickly found again by Barbra, but I felt so bad. I have to say quickly that when a heavy load is bought at marcola the price you pay includes a porter which is usually a young girl about 11- 19 years old. We dashed her, tipped her, as well but this is her job. At first I felt guilty about it. Its hard not to, but then I think if she doesn't carry my stuff she doesn't get paid and then she doesn't eat. So its better that I let her and then dash her then ignore her and take away from her pay.

Anyway while I was waiting for Barbra at this one spot some ladies invited me to sit with them while they were working. We started talking about where I was from, why I was there, was I married, children, the works. One lady was selling this chalky looking stuff and I could not make out for the life of me what it was so naturally I asked her. She asked me if I was pregnant and I said no. She told me that if i wasn't pregnant not to eat it, it would do nothing, but if i ate it when i was pregnant it would help the baby have big bones. Basically it was some sort of calcium chew, but she snapped one in half for me and it looked like a piece of grey chalk. I talked to them for about 5 minutes when some men walked by asking me to marry them, it was so funny because all the women stood up and talked very sternly to them in Twi and they quickly left. I asked them what they said to the men and they kindly said "We tell 'dem you to much Christ for dem, madam." Multiple wives here in Ghana is very very common I have learned, today, actually. So, when anyone ask me to marry them i ask if they are already married and then some say "oh yes, nice women." Like if the other wives are nice i will marry him. I know it sounds sad and really like a bad situation but on the other side of it, I have to laugh when they ask me.

Next it was on to hardware and bathroom supply aisle. While I was there I made tons of friends! I learned quickly not to tell anyone your real name when they can pick you out of the crowd like... well a white person in Africa, I guess. I told one person my name and then it seemed everyone knew it. It spread like wild fire. It was really funny. They think if they know my name I will buy from them because we are "friends." I met one man named Tete wearing a TuPac shirt. That was what started our "friendship" was his shirt. We talked for a long time and I ended up taking a snap with him which was fun. His wife's name is Sarah which made us even better friends. Those men in that district were so funny and worried themselves so much about our buying. In marcola if someone does not have what you want they go and find it for you. No extra money given for it, its just what they do. They will be gon e for ten minutes looking for what you need. It doesn't matter as long as they sell it they would go to nigeria to get it. Not really, they don't much care for Nigerians here.

I see people here see me and automatically say to themselves, "She's not from here." Being from America I don't know that thought. There's no way we in the States can look at someone and say "They are not American." We don't all talk the same, or look the same. However, now I can feel the reverse of that. I know I am not from Ghana. I know I might not belong in Ghana, but I don't feel it. I don't feel like I don't belong here. I don't feel like an outsider, except when they aren't speaking English and that happens at home. In some ways I feel like I could belong here. I've only been here a week and I realize that but still I don't think I could ever have lived without this. To experience this is invaluable.

I get frustrated when I try to explain things over blog or email a lot. I can't. I take pictures but when i look at them they seem so empty. The sounds aren't there. The smells aren't there. The sounds of people laughing, the mosque down the street praying the third prayer of the day, Christian music blaring from piles of unpurchaced speakers, the chickens wondering through the streets, babies crying and laughing, horns honking trying to merge their way through a chaotic sea of frenzied people, the smell of plantain roasting, the gutter that is full, the hea vy exhaust the clings to the sand in the air, none of this can i bring home. And I so desperately want to. Maybe i will find some way to pack it in. I have five months I can think of something.

There is always too much to write so I will end it here. Not enough for me but for you I think it will do.

I love you. All of you. Thank you for your prayers I feel them.

Always,

Sarah

Prayer Request:
There is a lot to do to start school. Pray that I can make it happen.
For me as I am here trying to sort everything in my head and my heart out.