Azonto!

Friday morning at work proved to be crappy. We walked to work like we always do, when he heard a taxi blaring its horn and speeding toward the hospital. Jonathan noticed a father carrying his child and rushing toward the ED. We went in, and within 10 minutes, pronounced 2 very small girls dead. They were sisters who lived in a mud hut, and part of the hut somehow collapsed on them. They had visible broken bones and were clearly not alive when they got there. We tried chest compressions and epinephrine on one, but it was too late. Their uncles came and carried them out (Muslims believe in burying their deceased within a few hours). It was very sad. Yeshima, the house officer who was working with us, was explaining how they likely had to wait a long time for the taxi, as they came from a very rural part where it would have taken the taxi time to get to them. The rest of the day was okay, but we felt worn down physically and mentally, so we came home early to work on our presentations for the Ghanian residents next week.

Friday night we went to dinner at Mike’s again, the restaurant that serves Mediterranean food along with regular Ghanian fare. Unfortunately the power was gone when we got there and they were operating off a generator, & we could not get any baba ganoush. So we had cheese pizza, which hit the spot. We couldn’t see each other for most of the meal due to the weak candle, but eventually the power came back on. A candle-light dinner can be fun, but out here, makes it difficult for me to do my frequent bug checks. This restaurant is situated in an outdoor courtyard; the photo you see is of the trees that were dangling right over us. I thought it looked pretty. You hardly ever see clouds here at night, so you always have a picturesque view of beautiful stars.

After dinner, we headed to this club called Discovery. What we discovered was that a small room filled to capacity with people who are dancing the night away in a tropical climate rapidly develops an unkind aroma. Picture rotten onions, sweat socks, and armpits. Putrid. 

Nonetheless, we had a good time. I even met an Indian guy there, by the name of Mono Sethi. He did have a cousin from the southern part of the United States, but it’s not Shivani. Go figure. I don’t have too many photos from the actual club because we were all so sweaty and gross I did not think that would make for good viewing. Jonathan was the ever-loyal brother who made sure the guys didn’t bother Bertina and me. Hamza was with us too, so he definitely looked out for us. And he knows everyone, so that made it more fun when we had a group together. Jonathan put in a great effort to learn the Azonto dance, and I thought he was doing pretty well, until his instructor turned and said “Not good. This is not good.” Another funny side note- Mama Merci’s son, Quako, has taken a real liking to Jonathan, and basically regards him as a mentor. He was absolutely shocked to find out that it’s not nice to call girls “too fat.” 

Clearly Ghana still has some Kid N Play fans (see box cut)