These are the beginnings of the beads, which have lived already as bottles of fanta or malta or some other scrumptious treat for the hot days. They make their way to this place, where they will be crushed and they will not fight to stay together. They will allow themselves to be melted together and they will forge and cool as if they had been together all along. A very cool and interesting process. Many antique beads are blended together and melted to form new, glossy beads and unless you have an eye like Msgr. Paul's Aunty, you might never know the old from the new. There is a profound respect for the blending of old and new in this country. Birth commands respect and consideration and death is treated as a sacred part of the cycle. There are people here who appear to be 30 who inform me that they are closer to 50. There are partly built roads here made up of red dust, coupled with grey, crushed rocks. There are many homes that have been built up to a certain point and when these structures and roads will be completed is anybody's guess.
I was pining for my first home in Ghana today, for my brothers and sisters there who took such good care of my feelings while learning the birth customs here. They could take me from tears to laughter just with a funny look or by asking me about my kids. I was never left feeling un-heard and most of my thoughts and feelings were validated. To have this type of support was a blessing for a first time traveller, let alone a student in my shoes. It was among this family that I went from doubting I would get any of the needed experience; to having one significant skill left to learn and practice. Now and for the rest of my life it is my prayer that my hands will continue to match my head and that my heart will never fail to engage in each and every birth. I hope I can trick my body into thinking it is newer than the rest of me for I dearly love helping Mama's and their babies get borned...
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