tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5849327642610184563.post4570605824948337313..comments2023-10-30T10:31:57.911-04:00Comments on Days of Transition: Meander Through GhanaRalphhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10007305231270037503noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5849327642610184563.post-14256459638495695322008-05-08T07:46:00.000-04:002008-05-08T07:46:00.000-04:00Z&M, Zim is a tragic mess, but really, your daught...Z&M, Zim is a tragic mess, but really, your daughter's experience is a lot closer to the "typical" PC experience than ours in Ghana was. Ghana has always been relatively more developed and the PCVs there have lived relatively well. My eyes were really opened when I visited vols in other countries on my job. No matter where PCVs serve, though, they'd never trade their experiences for anything else, I'll guarantee that.Ralphhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10007305231270037503noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5849327642610184563.post-46619513550268350042008-05-08T07:38:00.000-04:002008-05-08T07:38:00.000-04:00Sounds like you had it made in the shade. But othe...Sounds like you had it made in the shade. But others didn't. My daughter, for example, was stationed in Chivona, Zimbabwe, no running water, zero electricity. She even had to lobby the Chief in the Village to convert an old food warehouse to a modern library for the school. She succeeded but not without bribery and trips to Peace Corps Harrare to get engineers down there and a construction team. She paid to keep one young brilliant girl in school herself because the parents couldn't afford it. But they made the daughter work for her, odd jobs, laundry, sewing, cleaning the hut. Zimbabwe is truly a third world nation under mob rule.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5849327642610184563.post-65633251200774681592008-05-07T20:24:00.000-04:002008-05-07T20:24:00.000-04:00Rakph,Michelle mentioned to me, but I'm not sure. ...Rakph,<BR/>Michelle mentioned to me, but I'm not sure. I do remember sitting with you at that hotel and having a drink or two so maybe we did.Kathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11200177056135281932noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5849327642610184563.post-14841327794961296602008-05-07T14:42:00.000-04:002008-05-07T14:42:00.000-04:00Kat, do you remember if we ever did the curry lunc...Kat, do you remember if we ever did the curry lunch together at the City Hotel?Ralphhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10007305231270037503noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5849327642610184563.post-49736737281567558612008-05-07T14:19:00.000-04:002008-05-07T14:19:00.000-04:00Ralph,I have heard you tell that story of the wild...Ralph,<BR/>I have heard you tell that story of the wild man and Kumasi and still chuckle. You are about as far as I know from wild and were even back then. We in the upper north, far away from Accra, sowed far more wild oats.<BR/><BR/>I was always mesmerized by Kumasi. It was such a huge city, and I couldn't believe it had this hotel with a veranda and a bar. I always made it my half way stop, my last taste of the city, before the long ride home. <BR/><BR/>I have always loved cities but I found a home in Bolga with its market every third day, on and off electricity and not one veranda; however, I did love my stops in the city, in your Kumasi.Kathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11200177056135281932noreply@blogger.com