Sarah Donohue ,

Ghana 2006/2007 Participant

For a little while I felt like I was one of you.
In farming you cassava, picking your pepe and in fetching your water I was able to forget my grocery store and my faucet and shower.

For a little while I felt like I was one of you.
Waiting 5 hours for the tro-tro, sitting smashed up against the seat and the person next to me and getting off the tro-tro covered in dirt, I was able to forget my family’s luxurious spacious car, my seatbelt, and my ability to wait no more than 20 minutes for a bus to come and get me.

For a little while I felt like I was one of you.
I bought my meal (the ingredients for my meal) at the market after getting lost trying to find each item. I was able to cook over the fire or shoddy stove and I shared my meal with those around me. I forgot my refrigerator, my 3 different pots with matching sauce pans, and my lonely microwave dinners.

For a little while I felt like I was one of you.
I danced and sung with you in church. You invited me into your conversation and we both struggled to communicate with each other.
            We laughed.
                        And I forgot about going to the movies with my friends, going to the bar to drop $30.00 in one night, and the endless hallways of shopping malls filled with busy strangers.

For a little while I felt like I was one of you.
I went to the bathroom four times last night. I was concerned I had some digestive parasite and wondered if I suddenly got very sick, who would take care of me and how I would get to the hospital. I also wondered how much my hospital trip would cost our group.  
            And I forgot the ability to call 911, that my doctors office would be able to see me in 2-3 days for free, and that my parents would pay for my prescription.

For a little while I felt like I was one of you and I promise to remember it.

Thanks.