After the clinic, we went back to Kumasi to buy a birthday card and ice cream for the girl who lives at the end of Kate Memorial's driveway, whose 13th birthday we missed while we were in Tamale. She and her family have been incredibly sweet, greeting us with hugs and insisting on carrying our bags to the hotel whenever we arrive home. Every day, she and her sisters ride the chrochro to school. When they get home, they run their small shop, where we buy all our water and phone cards. She makes friends with each new set of volunteers, and her mother likes to have each group over for dinner at least once. Hanging out with their family is a great instance of what Brian called "the dangers of estrogen in Africa". You'll notice that almost every album I've posted so far has contained pictures of the small, adorable children we found everywhere. Nowhere was that more true at dinner, where the two youngest boys danced to 'Chop My Money' for us, and the youngest girls played with our hair, which we taught them how to braid. Every child we met was an adorable, mischievous sweetheart.
You can find children playing in the grass or on the streets everywhere you go. They are independent and outgoing because they are allowed to be. Their parents are a source of food, shelter, and guided education, not ever-watchful babysitters. Households are extensions of the community, and play is never really unsupervised, as older children are always near their younger siblings and girls as young as five sometimes carry their infant siblings on their backs. Even a homemaker spends most of her time outside buying food, getting water, doing laundry, or other activities. With a fertility rate of nearly 6 children per woman, it's easy to see why you will normally find a mother with a baby strapped to her back as she works and the rest of her children having fun elsewhere.
Dinner was spectacular. We had giant mounds of jollof rice in her spacious yard in front of the house she shares with her siblings and a family of tenants. She jumped for joy over the presents and ice cream, which we shared after dinner. We played a rousing round of ludo, which her seven-year-old sister beat me handily at. Then, she taught us a few handgames, we taught her our own, and we played Coca-Cola in the yard. Afterwards, it was time to go pick up water from the pump across the road, which we wanted to help with, so her family brought us buckets and scarves and taught us how to balance them on our heads. How the ten-year-old could carry such a heavy bucket of water on her head, larger than the one they gave me, is beyond me. So is how the mother can carry ten gallons of water on her head and walk across the road with her hands on her hips, shimmying as she goes.
The album below has four parts: surgery at the clinic, daily outreach, estrogen in Africa, and the party.