Part two.

Like I said in my last post, though I was (sort of) prepared to get up in front of a class of 47 3rd graders and teach a math lesson, there was unfortunately something else that I was not as prepared for: the cane. The cane familiar to most Ghanaians is essentially a thin wooden stick- not a tool used to assist someone in walking. At first I was optimistic, and thought that this was used as some sort of intimidation method- something that says, "do your work" more effectively than the teacher. The first day it wasn't so bad. If children were talking when they weren't supposed to, they received a whack to the back of the leg, or something similar. Child abuse? No. Did it hurt? Probably. I know I wouldn't like it.

Then came day two. As the teacher walked around in the morning to collect the weekend assignment, I noticed a slight sense of fear in the students, and rightfully so. If someone didn't have his or her assignment to hand in, that's where the cane made an appearance. The cane, and by the cane I mean the teacher, would hit the child ("guns don't kill people, people kill people"). And it was no longer to the leg, but instead the back, arm, or in some cases, head. This was undeniably one of the most unsettling things I've witnessed yet.

So, why the cane? I suppose it makes the teachers who come to school simply for the sake of putting a few cedis in their pocket feel a little more powerful than they do outside the walls of La Wireless. And sadly, I'm sure some even take pleasure in the physical act of violence. But still, why allow something like this? I think the idea, or at least the hope, is that the cane is a symbol of authority, and with its presence, students will listen and learn without disruption. What I've noticed is that while on the surface this may seem like a solid theory, it is in fact no better than a teacher acting stern with his or her class- because once the teacher, (and cane), are out of sight, consequence, too, has the left the room.

While I will (unfortunately) continue spending Mondays at La Wireless, my Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons, and entire Thursday, will now be happily devoted to Beacon House Orphanage. I'll continue going there with my friends Alexis, Grace, and Naomi, spending time with some of the most beautiful and wonderful children I've ever met. I'm not exaggerating when I say they're amazing. Today, as she grasped the upper part of my skull, Anna Maria told me I had a beautiful head. See what I mean? I hope to be able to take pictures at some point, though even without, there's not a chance I'll forget their faces.

I think when many of us picture orphanages, or volunteering at one, we don't often think of the reality of the situation. Though it is not always the case, these children are usually acquired through unappealing means- often left on the side of the road, or abandoned elsewhere. They do not have birth parents, siblings, or any other family to which they are related- that they know of. It has occurred to me that while we are all well aware of these facts, until we are able to see this type of situation first hand, most of us are unable to comprehend the depths of this painful reality. While going to the orphanage every week is the thing I love most in Ghana, I know I will be challenged with accepting the underlying emotional weight that is forever present. But those few hours each day alone are worth more than everything else I do during the week. Beacon House is one of the few things that for me, say "wow, I kinda do want to stay in Ghana…" And I know my last day will be quite heartbreaking. Almost a plea for a future return…

One of my first days at the orphanage was a perfect indication of how my semester will be. It was unforgettable. I met a boy, about 11 or 12 years old, who had just met his adoptive parents from the United States. As soon as the required paperwork was completed, (which usually takes a while), he would have a new home: a family and all. This was one of the most amazing things I have ever been a part of (though I really wasn't "a part" of it)- seeing the smile on his face, and hearing him say that his parents were coming… It's hard to believe that this is something so many of us take for granted. It really does make you appreciate the little things… I've seen and learned so much in the 2 months that I've been in Ghana, but this was certainly the most remarkable.

And I don't think I've ever really witnessed something I would describe as a miracle, but I'm pretty sure this qualifies.