Happy Birthday to Me!!

July 19

• My actual birthday
• Kumasi reunion
• Cape Coast Castle
• Journal disaster
• My new home

My actual birthday…
was fine. I didn’t sleep well the night before and I woke up to my phone ringing. It was Kwadwo (my Accra version of Sabina—he’s a doctor who is specializing in Obs & Gyne and will finish next year). He said, “Hi Erika, I’m really sorry but I won’t be coming in until 10:00 today. You don’t need to come to the morning meeting because I won’t be there and won’t be able to get you any interviews until after 10. I’m really sorry.” I tried to contain my excitement at getting 2 more hours of sleep and told him that was absolutely OK. When I told Keesha it was my birthday, she made me breakfast (oatmeal with brown sugar). I got to work at about 10:30, deciding I was allowed to run on Africatime on my birthday. Kwadwo came in around 10:45 and stammered breathless apologies. I told him that it was a perfect birthday present. He was so excited that it was my birthday, and he said, “I need to buy you lunch.” So he went to the gyne ward rounds (while I read Middlemarch in the Doctor’s Lounge) and came back an hour later. We took a taxi to a really nice restaurant and he bought champagne and a piece of birthday cake (sugar, flour, butter, plus a hint of banana that could easily have just been because it was sitting next to a banana or something). It didn’t have frosting on it but I took the leftovers home and it was pretty good with Nutella on it. After lunch, I went home (no interviews that day…) and the American girls in the hostel and I went to Keneshie Market and walked around. I had fabric that I bought in Kumasi and I found a seamstress to make me a dress and purses out of the cloth. I’m pretty excited about them, especially since my current purse is really not doing so well. I am going to pick up my clothes sometime this week. We came home and drank the champagne out of Styrofoam cups. I went to bed. Not very eventful, but I don’t think your 22nd birthday needs to be all fireworks and excitement. I wasn’t expecting anything, so the day was full of pleasant surprises.

Kumasi reunion…
was great. The University of Ghana School of Medical Sciences (Accra) and the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology Medical School (Kumasi) both took buses to Cape Coast this weekend. We arrived late Friday night and left on Sunday afternoon, and it was so great to see Shy, Eva, Ernest, Nelson, and Edwin again. Lots of hugging and screaming. When I first got there, Eva told me that Shy was in the shower and would be out soon. About 10 minutes later, he showed up behind me, saying “happy birthday” and holding a birthday cake. I can’t really describe how amazing and loved I felt. It said, “Happy Birthday Erica” on it (not their fault—they supposedly spelled my name right when they talked to the cake person) and the pink frosting was totally smushed on one side. Cakes are really hard to come by in Kumasi and it sounds like they really had to hunt and plan to pick up the cake and transport it. It sat on Shy’s lap for the entire 4 or 5 hour trip from Kumasi to Cape Coast. I am so incredibly lucky to have such great friends in Kumasi. They were so humble about it and really acted like it was no big deal. SO AMAZING.

Cape Coast Castle…
should really have its own post, but I really don’t have time to elaborate on it very much. My med school apps are being pushed aside for this long-due update, and I’m sure my interviews wouldn’t mind being transcribed tonight either. Anyway, the castle was one of the huge portals for the slave trade. I really can’t remember most of the facts from the tour and the museum, but I’m sure you internet-savvy Americans can just google it and read. It was really massive and I can’t really describe the feeling I had when I was there. I felt like I should feel guilty because my country was founded on slave labor, but I really just felt guilty and could not believe that humans could do such cruel things to other humans. It’s not a matter of race or nationality—it’s this human code that was violated for hundreds of years. You can’t enslave other people. We stood in the male dungeons where there were 200 men packed in a ~40 x 30 foot room for 3 months. They pooped, peed, vomited, stood, sat, and ate on the same floor. (In the women’s room, they also bleed on that same floor.) There were 3 windows that were about 30 feet high, 1 x 2 ft. All the body excrements and food became packed on the floor for years and years until 3 researchers cleaned up and excavated the floor. They left a part untouched to retain the feel, and at one point the guide told us, “you are now standing on flesh, vomit, sweat, blood, and feces.” Again, I still cannot believe that we humans did that to other people.

One scary part of it was that the British built the church directly over the male dungeons. It was very easy to hear talking and footsteps above us when we were in the dungeons, and the guide really stressed that there were men dying below while the slave traders were learning to ‘love they neighbor as thyself.’ It gives you goosebumps, doesn’t it?

Journal disaster…
was really a disaster. On the first night in the hostel, the IFMSA exchange coordinator needed to borrow some paper and a pen to write the dinner orders so he could run out and grab them. I volunteered my notebook for the task. They left the notebook at the dinner place. They were busy planning the welcome party so I didn’t ask about my notebook until late the next day. The exchange coordinator immediately said, “oh. we left it at the restaurant. i’m really sorry.” I told him how important it was to me, as it has all my observations from the hospital, research notes, rough draft secondary essays, and phonebook, not to mention my daily journal entries. He said that we would pass by there that night on the way to a beach restaurant/bar. We didn’t. Finally, when we had been at the restaurant for a little while, I approached one of the guys and said, "I don't care that it's dark out, Depali (my new Norwegian friend) and I are going to go see if the notebook is at the restaurant" and the guy replied, "no way. The store isn't open anymore, it's no biggie, we'll look for it tomorrow," and I started to get really frustrated and replied, "you just don't understand how important this is to me. it has med application essays, research stuff, phone numbers, and all of my journaling for this trip!!" and I tried really hard to just accept it and go with the flow but then my eyes started tearing up. I was trying my hardest to avoid crying and was doing pretty well until they saw that I was really upset. When they said, "OH MY GOSH PLEASE DON'T CRY!!!! I'M SO SORRY. I DIDN'T DO IT ON PURPOSE!!!!" I lost it. (This is still at the outdoor bar/restaurant/club.) Then they offered to buy me a new one which is like beyond ridiculous because it really was never about the $3.99 college ruled 3-subject Mead notebook. I just kept thinking about all the notes that I’ve taken and all the soul I’ve poured into it (I didn’t think about it at the time, but it’s kind of like a Horcrux, for any of you Harry Potter fans), and it was just a really bad and emotional night. They promised me to get it the next day and then bought me a drink. I pulled myself together and went on with the rest of the night. The next morning, we went to the beach and it as awesome. The waves were enormous and very very strong. I had a great time. When we left the beach at 2:00, we stopped by the place where we had gotten food the first night. We found the notebook right away. Even though it was almost a non-issue, I still felt justified by freaking out. All through the disaster, I was glad that I had such a strong reaction for something so inexpensive. I really don’t think that I would have been that upset if I had lost $200. It was not flattering to throw a tantrum (and I really tried so hard to avoid it), but I think it was a good validation of my priorities. I know I could journal on my computer, but it is so different and more organic when I handwrite in my notebook. I have gotten to writing most of my thoughts down because I’ve looked at my entries from Kumasi and I have already forgotten so many things from my time there. I don’t want to forget anything from Ghana. I’m thinking about dictating my thoughts to save time and save my fingers from hurting (transcribing is hard and very stressful for my fingers!! They talk so fast!!), but now that I have a roommate, I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. That brings me to my next topic.

My new home…
is at the medical students’ hostel. It is about 5/6 of a mile closer to the hospital than the international students’ hostel and already has much more charm and personality, even though the water is out here, the floors are way dirtier, the bathrooms are far away, and there aren’t any sheets on my bed. I just couldn’t stay at the international hostel for a whole month without any friends. The Cape Coast trip was great because I got to know all the exchange students and the Ghanaians involved in IFMSA, and now I will be involved in a lot of the events that are planned for the IFMSA students. My roommate is fantastic and I’m really excited for the next 2 weeks. They leave in 2 weeks, and I’m not sure what happens after that.

Wow, I’m so sorry for the long entry. I try to keep it under a page (with very adjusted margins) but this one was 3 pages!! Anyway, if you’re reading this blog, chances are I love you, so xoxoxo!!!

Ghanaian proverb for the day: When the cock is drunk, he forgets about the hawk.