One Man Thousand

I find myself finding comfort in the libraries; I almost forgot the meditative quality they possess. A long hard research session is refreshing and a friendly anthropological reminder from my ever so supportive professors from home gives a nice fuel up for the remainder of my time spent here. It almost seems like a curse sometimes, in counting down the days. Some times, I look at a calendar and I count it down with my fingers, daydreaming about sitting on the plane, sipping from a mini bottle of wine, and watching a classic movie, courtesy of British Airway's impressive service. But then some days, what seemed like so long almost puts me into a panic like trance. Going down is always faster than the up. I know that the full effect has yet to be realized, that it can probably never really be completely realized.

I was sitting in the front on the personal development class, feeling clammy and ill, exhausted from the harsh vomiting outside due to the hundreds of one man thousand fish that I had bought from the woman who makes her daily rounds around firestone to sell the kenkey she balances on her head. I had eaten these eetsy beetsy fish the size of a chewed up and spit out finger nail, proving themselves to be fish only by the tiny black dot of an eye. And although we were having a thoroughly important and interesting discussion about abortion, I couldn’t help to be overcome by an overwhelming sense of…sense… I was listening to one of the students that I’ve gotten to know pretty well talk, and all I could think was about how at the beginning of this, it was hard for me just to follow along when someone spoke with the accent and just the general knowledge of a Ghanaian course of speech. Now, I see her as a real human with a very real past and real feelings and thoughts, and I have a genuine love for her that I couldn’t have predicted to have from the beginning. It was a...moment, infinitely.

She said we were foolish for ever thinking that we don’t find ourselves in a continual loop of energized connectivity.

So as I continue the interviews and really get to know the students, I get a rejuvenated sense of passion for what goes on inside of a human brain, how rationalizations happen, and why. And I think, if I don’t continue to do something like this, I may always regret it. To be one important piece in a larger scheme, contributing to a grander significance in hopes of bettering something or another, if we were to ever be so lucky.