After teaching the kids at school old McDonald on Monday,we hadn’t got very far on their education, and on Tuesday Katrina wasn’t feeling well and our other new volunteer had a meeting so it was just Hannah and I that went, and as soon as we got there we made an excuse to leave early. The teacher, normally nice and bubbly was in the most foul mood. She was nice enough to us, but almost every kid in the class got canned in the hand at one stage, for no reason other than perhaps their work wasn’t perfect. It was a horrible and scary atmosphere. As well as caning them she would yell in their face, smack them on the head with their book and then throw their book on the floor. Even I was scared and I wasn’t at any risk of getting caned or hit.
So today we tackled the mountain! All 525 metres of it. We woke up at 6.30, had some breakfast and were off as soon as our local guide arrived. It took us an hour and a half to get up, which was quick, even with the amount of times I had to stop because I felt like I was going to throw up. Eventually I did. But I felt much better for it afterwards. My god I am so unfit now!
Things have been very interesting and a little scary here lately. There are two other volunteers in the house with us, Markus and Anna, both from Germany. Markus has become ill with malaria, as well as the youngest child in the orphanage Enam.
After all the stress of receiving my passport hours before I was due to fly out, I turned up with the expectation and horrible feeling that something else was going to go wrong. Check in was fine, and it wasn’t until the plane left the tar mat that that feeling melted away. It was a short flight to London, followed by a two hour stop in Heathrow airport. Then a seven hour flight to Accra.
I feel a bit sad that he had left but quickly realise I now have the whole of this tiny, little, cute place all to myself, the luxury! I continue to half ass search for jobs, shop at the market, read books, sleep in and go to the beach. The yachting jobs are becoming harder to find as the season draws to and end, and the thought of going back to work 17 hours a day makes me wither a little inside, I’m just not sure i can do it. The next thing I know I have almost been there two weeks, and I still don’t have a job.
I got out of crazy turkey town place as fast as I could. I barely even said goodbye to the kids, although the grandma did make a big deal of me leaving, she looked way to happy. I gave the nanny a big hug and said “I’ll see you soon” into her ear, she grinned, we both know it won’t be long til she’s gone too. I hop in the car and find it hard to contain my happiness as I bid adios to the past. That morning the grandma had slapped the youngest girl in the face because she drank out of an open bottle of water. It was horrible, the girl was screaming and crying and it was all inflicted by the person she loved. No wonder the kids use so much violence, it was used on them too much.
I am still considering wether or not I take the job, it does have some good parts, like travel, occasionally staying in luxurious places and the boat when I finally get on it. I still have not been able to have a conversation with the mother about what their plans are and wether or not they would be willing to give me a pay rise if I did want to stay.