spills, thrills and automobiles

actually, no automobiles. I just like how that sounds.

This weekend was the last of our sporadic program-planned and executed trips, which I always look forward to for their structure. And free food (that I guess we already paid for, but it feels free, you know?). So I am sad to see that era come to an end. But it sure was a grand finale.

Saturday began with a trip to Akosombo in Ghana's beautiful Volta Region whose namesake river flows straight through.  The main attraction was a huge hydro-power dam that supplies the country with 65% of its electricity as well as sends power to the neighboring nations. The dam was constructed 45 years ago and it has not budged an inch. It blocks and channels water 270 feet deep. That's 27 stories! It was an impressive display of man's control and manipulation of nature, which often sounds like a bad thing, but in this case is quite important. I am still blown away by our ability to turn a river into something that will turn on a light or power a hot plate. . . a feat my right-brained formula-resistent mind will never comprehend. . .

Our daily rice and chicken was had at a beautiful spot right along the river.  During lunch, I spotted a rope swing aways down the shore. Unable to resist the call, despite our lack of appropriate swimwear, a small group of us scampered over to the swing while the rest of our program finished eating.  We excitedly unbuckled our weary sandals and removed trusty watches in preparation for the great plunge. One by one we started swinging off a high mound of rocks into the beautiful river at our feet. Gradually, the rest of our group and the restaurant drew their attention to the Tarzan-like display down the shore. Then it was my turn. I've learned from kamp that with things like this, you can't think about it- you just have to go for it. And go for it, I did.

Instead of lightly stepping off the platform, I jumped with the force of a mama hippo and was air-borne half a second before my little biceps betrayed me, unable to withstand the impact of my lunge and I slammed into the rocks in the shallow water below.  With all 53 kids on my program watching. Underwater, I wonder if I can hold my breath long enough for people to forget what they'd just seen. But I remember my all too brief stint as a life guard and know this is not an option. I resurface and everyone of course wants to know if I'm okay. Am I okay? Actually, now that I think about it, ow. But I laugh and go back up to redeem myself.

I climb the rocks, grip onto the rope as fiercely as I had clung to my last Chipotle burrito, and, like a swan, I gracefully swing out and into the water with some added twirls and pirouettes for effect. Of course, no one is watching anymore. But I felt much better.

We swam for awhile, fighting hard against the strong-willed current. I accidentally drank some water but with delight remembered it is the purest water in Ghana, situated, as it is, at the foot of the dam.  What us spontaneous bathers didn't know was that the next part of the day's itinerary involved a three and a half hour hike at a game reserve not far from the river. So, sopping wet, in a long skirt and the worst possible shoes, and with a new fall collection of earth-toned bruises and voluminous bumps from my little spill, I embarked. But I tried not to let my outer discomfort color the life-giving experience that such encounters with creation has become for me. I know I sound like my mother, but that's okay.

First, we had a chance to feed and play with the monkeys as they crawled out like sheepish children in the aftermath of a spank-worthy mistake. I tried appealing to them with the most welcoming look I could put on and I was taken aback by how human our interactions were. Actually feeding a monkey a banana is a delightful experience. I fattened one up quite a bit.

We were then led through miles of tall brush up to the highest point that could only be reached by scaling the outside of a cave which threatened to combust with every delicate step. The neat thing about these hikes is that all along, there is the sense that this experience has not been authorized, tested, or secured.  You are often literally blazing your own trail and that is a cool feeling to have.

At the peak, I steadied myself against a branch and I couldn't believe the view that was presented to me on that triple digit degree day. It caught me off guard but not for its unimaginable majesty, though it was incredible. It surprised me because it was exactly what I had expected. Nothing but mountains and grasslands as far as I could see in every direction. There was even a herd of some type of large mammals dancing across this opening scene from Lion King.  For the first time, I had a snapshot of this world as it had existed in my imagination long before I came. This vast, wild and organic expanse- the quintessential Africa we are taught to subscribe to.  Of course, now that I've been here long enough just to sample the realities and complexities of the often misunderstood landscape- what an experience- to see something I actually expected to see.

I imagine days of wandering here, centuries ago.
I imagine a young girl poised where I was, looking out at green and more green stretching past the point of squinting, wondering if it goes on forever.
For a moment, it really seems to.

Yet, even there, on Pride Rock, I could hear the faint call of the world I belong to, beckoning me back to its own landscape of Starbucks and suburbs. That at one time also seemed to extend without end. But at least now I know better. That no pattern is forever. And no string of sameness goes unbroken, however our eyes might deceive us. Maybe we inhabit a planet of seemingly infinite landscapes, fading and overlapping as they gradually bleed into one another. . .