just because love is complicated doesn't mean i shouldn't try

i found a new song i like. maybe you will like it too. maybe not.



this band ("the very best") includes a singer from malawi and a production duo from london.

anyway, the song has me thinking about ghana and my short short time there (even though malawi and ghana= totally different stories). i try to be so correct when i think/speak about my specific role and my country's global role in other countries. i try to remember i'm a tourist coming from a life of privilege, and i try to remember that one measly month doesn't give me much claim to a place. (immediately i chastise myself--"you american! always trying to claim things!")

then i see these pictures of kids i still pray for and i ask, who cares about correct and borders and intellectualizing everything? a person's a person, no matter how small. often i think about views of the world, and how my particular lens came with a built-in levelizer. the levelizer attunes me to social, economic, mental, emotional lines; in other words, it marks the boundaries of us and them. do you have this lens too? i don't like mine, mostly because i let it bully me. i think you break the levelizer the same way meg broke IT to free charles wallace: love.

i don't like the fact that my current turmoil regarding foreign aid makes me feel like ghana shouldn't mean as much to me anymore. i was just another one of those idealistic college students looking for a summer adventure, and for a small sum, i was dropped into a world that was way over my head and heart. did i hurt more than i helped?

anyway, i wonder about posting these pictures because the kids have no idea. they can't even conceive of a computer; most of them have never experienced electricity. or at least they hadn't four years ago. i wish i could know where they are now: if they are still in school, staying out of trouble, happy, healthy, strong.



fatau in the front, right after he shaved his head. cheated like crazy in class. idirisu to the left, trying not to smile.

soloman and abdaman. notice how they put my stickers on their buttons. can you tell that these two were the class clowns?


fadilla. so shy. one of three girls in my class. three! at one of the village parties, she came and sat on my lap.


grace.




















mutala. my youngest student. the bigger boys would rush to the van so they could carry my bags--mutala wanted to hold my hand as we walked to the classroom. mutala me manque.