I know, I know.

Since I returned from Ghana, people have asked me to update my blog several times. I have been meaning to do it, but just haven't yet. So today is the day! It's snowing outside, and I am surprisingly not TOO buried in homework. I'm taking this opportunity to add some photos a long with some short passages from the journal that I kept in country. Enjoy!

Day 1:

-- we then boarded the tro-tro and began our drive along the coast from Accra to Atorkor. It was a good way to become introduced to the landscape, and to see the general living situation and environment of the Ghanaian people. I was so tired from traveling the previous day that I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I was thrown from my sleep when I felt the tro-tro quickly jerk far to the right as my body smashed into the large woman next to me, who was holding a shrimp basket and a small child. A truck that we had started to pass decided to make a left turn and we had nearly had a collision. Everyone was shouting! Several men who had been sitting alongside the highway got very upset with our driver and started yelling and fighting with one him. Someone then tried to open the door of the tro-tro to pull the driver out. This whole situation was very confusing, because there we sat, in the middle of the highway, traffic behind us at a standstill, people surrounding our tro-tro all taking sides, tempers rising---and then, as if by some unspoken mediating comment, the argument ceased and we were on our way. It was as if nothing had ever happened. Within a matter of minutes everyone in the tro-tro was lulled back to sleep by the slight swaying of the unstable vehicle, sultry heat and rhythmic gospel music. I had hardly closed my eyes when again, I heard shouting coming from the exterior of the vehicle. I quickly looked around to realize that the tro-tro had come to a stand still and what seemed like hundreds of people dressed in black and red, were outside yelling, crying, shouting and walking alongside the road. There were also several large vehicles that looked like army trucks, their back's filled with people who again, were wearing black and red and wailing. The music was so loud, I was so alarmed. I thought there was going to be a riot or something. I must have looked scared because Paul tapped on my shoulder, I turned around only to see him smiling wide, saying, "don't worry, they are happy. Its a funeral."

how differently we celebrate death.