Going to the bank is stressful! I have a savings account. I have been going into the bank to withdraw cash; you know, because Ghana is a cash economy. I want to avoid going into the bank, because I get so stressed out! There are like 5 windows. Two of them seem to be for something other than withdrawing cash. I think one is for paying school fees and the other one — who knows? The fifth window seems to be for UEW senior faculty. It is rarely open and I haven’t figured out if I qualify to stand in that line when it is open. The other two tellers seem to be for those of us who want to withdraw cash and one of those is always open when the bank is open.

The part that is so very stressful for me is the queue. I had no idea how much I appreciated the orderly lines where there is a handy dandy queue ribbon or rope until I experienced the sitting queue at the bank. There are about five rows of uncomfortable metal chairs. You determine which person is at the end of the line and sit down next to that person. Then, each time a person moves to the window, everyone in lines gets up and moves one seat over.

Now, the problems are numerous — people who do not know how to use this type of queue, just go to the front row where they may or may not just sit down in what is inevitably an empty seat, because someone did not get up and move over when the person in that seat got up to go to the window. If nobody notices the person, then that person somehow gets to the front of the line.

Then there are the people who just go straight to the window as if they own the place.

Then there are the people who are just sitting on a chair, but not in line and you have to go around them.

Then there is that strange line that is sometimes open that is for the senior faculty at the UEW. When that window closes, all of those people somehow move to the front of the other line for the one or two windows that might be open.

I feel much relief when I get to the front row, because I feel that there is now hope — I will get my cash! Eventually.

When I get to the window, the teller is never happy. She (being a teller seems to be a woman’s job in Ghana) rarely greets me. She simply takes my withdrawal slip, punches in my account number and then decides what she is going to require of me on that particular day. Once I was asked to re-sign my withdrawal slip. Another time, I was asked to write my full physical address (which is virtually meaningless here, because nobody uses an address; it is something like “Sir Charles Beach Resort Road, near the Police Depot and next door to the Windy Lodge at the beach”). Today,  my withdrawal slip was taken to the branch manager for some reason unbeknownst to me. Finally, I was asked for my phone number.

To avoid going into the bank and experiencing that extremely stressful sitting queue, I applied for a debit card about a week ago. I was told it might be ready in one month and I should check back on 11 May. So, I have to continue going into the bank….

I was able to visit the Cape Coast School for the Deaf and Blind with Western Oregon University students on a Service Learning trip.

While there, I was able to give the Headmaster a $650.00 check, thanks to several generous donors. The funds will be used for materials for the students who are deaf in the woodworking class to build desks for children who are blind. I was pleased to see that a group from the Ashanti region of Ghana had also contributed some funds for materials and the desks had already been made. This is what the new desks will look like:

In Ghana, sandals seem to be called slippers. I have some of my favorite slippers here in Ghana. I have been super gluing my black sandals since November. I finally had to throw them out after I walked home in them after they tore so badly, there was no way I could super glue them back together again.

My very favorite of all time sandals are on their way out, too. They hurt my heels so badly, that I have to keep bandages on the sandals to provide the extra padding I need to wear them.

This shiny pair of flip flops broke while I was in Esiem at a funeral. I only had one pair of shoes with me. The thong broke when I hit a small small step. I picked up the sandal and was told that some boy in the village could fix it. 30 Pesewas (or about $.08) later, they are good to go!