Project Wonder - Day 39 - Fortune

I'm officially out of the hospital, and getting down to catching up on all the work and time I missed with the students during my FIVE DAY (!!) absence.

I caught myself getting pretty frustrated in the final hours of my stay. I just wanted to get out of that place and get back to non-patient living. This is probably too much information for the public, but I hadn't properly bathed since being admitted to the hospital last Saturday and my odor was vile. I literally covered myself in a blanket from neck to toe to mask my own repulsive stench. My poor roommates and nursing team were almost as happy to watch me pack my bags as I was. Now that I think about it, a few of them seemed happier than I. 

All jokes and frustration aside, my hospital experience was rich indeed. I shared in political dialogue while watching the US election coverage on CNN, I learned more about the colonization of Africa from the "felt" perspective of my roommates, some of whom were scholars, some of whom were business owners. It was a great laugh when the gentleman beside me quipped (in broken English), "It's very nice feeling to see Obama black man rule the white for once." It certainly made me think about the incredible divide in power and wealth between our richest rich and our poorest poor. Such an incomprehensible difference, even with numbers and statistics and infographics (check out this site) the best I could do was pretend to understand. 

I gained a little perspective on this during my in-patient experience. It was rich in other ways as well. 

I stayed at the clinic from Saturday morning until Wednesday morning, a total of four nights, and twelve meals. I'm not sure exactly what the cost of business was, because my medical insurance covered it. 

I was on a very strong antibiotic, taking three doses daily via IV. According to the University of Pennsylvania,  each of those doses was worth about $30.00 (US). I received a total of twelve doses, bringing the grand total to about $360.00. Of course I don't know the actual cost, because my medical insurance covered it. 

This puts my visit and treatment somewhere around the $450.00 mark (a conservative estimate). Even without medical insurance I could probably find a way to pay for this treatment. I would probably be enraged that treating some silly little bacterial infection could cost so much, but I would cough up the dough. 

The average Ghanaian doesn't have health insurance. In fact, according to this 2008 statistical report, only 2.4% of Ghanaians have health insurance to cover medical expenses. Those who did not, would have to pay the cash fee. On the average Ghanaian teachers' salary, this could be paid for after THREE MONTHS of work. Assuming no other monthly expenses, that is. 

How is it that things are this way? I don't bat an eye at the thought of an ear infection, and my biggest worry is that I can't get back to my "regular life". In fact, I don't think I've ever had to worry about not being able to receive medical treatment in my life. Yet for most of the people in this country, an infection such as mine might have resulted in a brain infection, and possibly death. 

Thanks Scotiabank, I really am richer than I think. To what do I owe my good fortune?

The best answer I've come up with, is that I was born in Canada, with white skin and Y chromosome. It seems more than a bit silly, and phenomenally complex. I'm helplessly privileged, and I damn well better be grateful for my chances. 

Thank you for reading. 

Yours befuddled by unequal birthright(s), 

Brandon

P.S. Although Ghana begin oil production off its shores in 2010, it seems not much has yet changed for its citizens: http://www.voanews.com/content/ghana-oil-wealth-not-reaching-poor/1510789.html

P.P.S. Today's PW is inflamed by the report that this year's US presidential election incurred costs greater than $6 billion (!!!)

Project Wonder - Day 38 - Strangers

Part of the reason I love to travel so much is that it affords me the opportunity to meet new people. Not that the people currently in my life are "old", nor that I'm tired of those that I know. Through meeting new people I come to understand a little more about the ways We make sense of the world, and in doing so learn more about my own interpretations of stuff.

I have met some of my best friends in the most coincidental of circumstances, whether on a shared flight to Florida, or through a chance encounter during a university lecture. I have always loved the expression "a stranger is a friend yet unmet," once you shake off the dust of habit that cliches are prone to collecting.

The expectations we have of others invariably affect the way we treat them, and consequently the way they treat us. If we welcome the presence of others warmly and willingly, there's no telling the things we might learn. After all, every one has a truly unique story to share which we will never hear and learn from without lending our ears to the cause.

I read the following story a few months ago and it reminded me of the potential for conversation once we stop projecting a mask of anonymity onto others.

http://www.fullmoon.nu/articles/art.php?id=tal

I've met some pretty incredible people in my travels, and more recently here at the hospital. I had a conversation with a nurse today about feminism and environmentalism in an Africa with more pressing priorities. Last night I stayed up late practicing broken French with a man in the bed across the room, taking turns asking questions about each others families and upbringing. Who knows who I'll get to meet tomorrow?

Thank you for reading.

Yours in amiability,

Brandon

Project Wonder - Day 37 - Names

This morning I was woken by the day nurse:

"Hello James, time to wake up."

She was so bright and cheery, that I decided not to correct her. I didn't want to interrupt her flow of good energy. So I allowed myself to be James. Later on I made a note to avoid making decisions in the early morning fog of my waking self.

Of course, the appellation isn't entirely wrong. James IS my middle name, and is on my medical folder. But it just doesn't feel right. Nonetheless, my window of correcting her closed rapidly, and now I must wear my second name more publicly, at least until I'm out of here.

Although it doesn't quite feel right, it really doesn't matter to me. I mean, I still feel like me, whether you call me James, Brandon, or some other spontaneous label. It's all the same from my end. But perhaps to the nurse it's completely different.

After all, she doesn't know me like I do. And so as she learns about me she's probably making associations in her mind with people who have behaved, looked or spoke similarly to me. And if she knows a James she's almost certainly comparing me to him, whether she realizes it or not.

So many of us can relate to that unconscious associative name game. I can't count the number of conversations I've had with people about names that have been "ruined" for people:

"I used to love the name Amanda, until I got to the tenth grade and met Amanda Hugandkiss. She's so opinionated and bossy."
**If your name is Amanda, or your last name is Hugandkiss, or your full name is Amanda Hugandkiss, I apologize for making an example of you. Any likeness is  completely unintentional

What is in a name? It's a thought well worth thinking. It leads one to question the labels we give not only people, but other things, places, actions and ideas. What associations are tied up in the language we use, and  how would things be different if our labels were otherwise? Would a rose, by any other name, really smell as sweet?

While I'm now known to some members of the nursing staff as James, today I also bid goodbye to two kind, friendly gentlemen who were my cellmates here at the hospital. I'll call them "Bill" and "Ted" because somewhere in the cracks between the time we shared space and laughter I forgot to introduce myself, and learn THEIR names. Which makes me wonder how different, if only subtly, my experience with these gentlemen would've been if names had been exchanged? I expect our relationship would have been more significant. If not in the present, then almost certainly in the future when I recall memories from my time here. Will I remember "Bill" and "Ted" next week? In a month from now? In ten years? If so, will my memories of them now be tied up with notions of "surfer dude" speak and bogus journeys?

Our names, labels, and categories are the ways we keep attempt to keep our world consistent. They are the way we make meaning of the world. But we often get so used to using them that the meaning gets lost.  I found this lovely idea from Salman Rushdie in The Satanic Verses which is currently bouncing around my cortex:

"Names, once they are in common use, quickly become mere sounds, their etymology being buried, like so many of the earth's marvels, beneath the dust of habit." 

As a magician, the spectator's name is the most powerful magic word I know. As a teacher, remembering and using students' names is the foundation for trust and accountability. As a learner, names are a great source of philosophizing. That Wittgenstein know a thing or two about a thing or two. 

Thank you for reading.

Yours connotatively,

James

P.S. This clip from one of my favourite films "Waking Life" may add some insight to your thinking about language.

Project Wonder - Day 36 - Insignificance

Earlier in the day I was particularly mopey about not being able to get any work done, about missing so many classes and leaving the students "hanging out to dry". I've been frustrated and lonely and had nothing to do but read from my Kobo (thanks Mom and Dad).

I decided to re-read a few chapters from Carl Sagan's Cosmos, and I was rewarded with the beautiful reminder that all of my problems are really just a blip on the space-time map. Rather than try to explain, I'll let Carl speak:




It is refreshing to feel insignificant every once in a while. There's a lot less pressure when things don't seem to matter as much.

Yours humbly,

Brandon

Project Wonder - Day 35 - Persistence

I'm writing this on limited Internet connectivity and low laptop battery life from a hospital bed in West Africa. Isn't that amazing?

I am writing with two purposes.

Firstly, to reassure a few readers that I'm in excellent hands here. I've been reading books all afternoon and taking strolls on the hospital grounds, basically doing anything to distract myself from the faucet that's been taped into my hand for the medication (every 8 hours).

Secondly, I made a commitment to write every day. And after a visit from my principal today, I'm especially committed to upholding that commitment.

When I arrived at the CIC in September, I had an expectation on the type of work a principal does. I completely underestimated just how much is involved. The principal at our school is also a teacher of three courses, while also the lead recruiter and in charge of all the money. Needless to say, "Mrs. A" is a woman with an unending to-do list. She didn't even take a summer holiday, instead opting to help establish the primary school in its new location.

I am writing about Mrs. A, because, in fact, she was my first visitor to me in the hospital. Coming to visit after spending her Saturday at the school. It occurred to me today that my expected absences are yet another thing for her to think about this coming week. Just another thing on the list. And I considered how daunted I feel at times, and can only imagine that she must have pangs of being completely overwhelmed. And yet she persists.

She never allows herself to be the victim, at least, I never see it. She persists, I can only imagine, because she knows her work is worth it, however she measures worth to be.

And since I know writing to be the best form of my own healing, I must not use this hospital visit as an excuse, but must press on with Project Wonder. It's true that the greatest hurdles to our accomplishments exist in our own minds. I aspire to have the strength of mind to keep working, just as Mrs. A.

Thank you for reading.

Yours enduring,

Brandon

Project Wonder - Day 34 - Laughter

Well, I've been battling an ear infection for about a week now. The doctors had prescribed me some antibiotics, but after getting some test results back today, I've learned that the oral antibiotics aren't strong enough for this particular infection.

And so, for the next five days, I will be staying at the Nyaho Medical Centre, completing a course of intravenous antibiotics.

When the doctor told me I was going to have to be admitted, I actually laughed out loud. Although I've been feeling unpleasant lately, there is a certain humour about the idea that I'm about to spend five days in a hospital bed, here in Accra.

My burst of laughter crept into a potentially serious situation last weekend as well, while being thrown around with the other passengers on the bus, as the driver tried to navigate the crests and valleys of washed out roads. At one point I imagined the bus toppling over to the ground, and I couldn't help but laugh.

I suppose it's the absurdity of the situation that gets me. The sense of surreal that overtakes me. This out of body experience where I laugh at the complete improbability of the somewhat more frightening inner-body experience.

Or perhaps its exhilarating. Like riding a roller coaster where you know that there's really nothing to fear, and so the emotion escapes as giggles.

Either way, I'm collecting a bunch of phenomenal stories for the grandkids. Even if a few of them come at the expense of a compromised immune system for a few days.

There's value in all of these things that happen to us. Sometimes we have to dig a little deeper to find them.

Thanks for reading,

Yours on the mend,

Brandon

Project Wonder - Day 33 - Questions

Yesterday I mentioned that asking a lot of questions leads to a greater awareness of possibilities. Questioning things helps us understand how to make better choices for ourselves and others.

I have long asked the question of the purpose of school. I reflect on it privately, and I frequently pose the question to other students and teachers. Recently I asked students to write about what they thought the purpose of school to be.

Somewhat ironically, I received an onslaught of "academic" responses: formal, rigid writing saying that school should be as it already is. Despite the fact that students obviously care little about the curriculum at times, they echoed the popular discourse that school is about getting a good job in the end.

The students' writing seemed inauthentic. After all, it was just a task I wanted them to do, and jumping through hoops is so often the name of the game. Combine their lack of inherent interest in the question, with the dogma that there is ONE right answer to every question, and you get a bunch of "answers" which are similar, describing what students believe I want to hear. Some of the responses are very nearly identical to each other, suggesting that one student has copied another's.

I wanted to engage in a real discussion, and what I received was disinterested hurdle-jumping in the name of obedience.

There are many questions to be asked. My good friend recently shared this TEDxYouth talk by Seth Godin, who does a great job asking.



Why do we have the institutions we have? Why do we do the things we do? And how can (what I believe to be) educational ideals like curiosity, perspective-taking, creativity and resourcefulness be seen as valuable in our current capitalist, every-man-for-himself paradigm?

Thanks for asking the questions you ask.

Yours inquisitively,

Brandon