Secrets of the Amazon

On deck 7, on day 8 of the Rio to Manaus crossing, in the Amazon.  Sitting with Pema and Jonathan—Jonathan just came over to say how impressed he was with Ambassador Shannon guest-speaking in Kathy Manning’s leadership class, speaking about authentic leadership and connecting with people to build coalitions.  Untold stories are scrolling by—flat plains of dense jungle on river banks of about 10 feet of café-con-leche water.  Looking through the binoculars, you can see that the river occasionally floods about 20 feet higher, based upon the mud-markings on the trunks of the trees.  Some tree reach above the rest, their canopy in stark relief against the hazy blue sky.  Occasionally there’s the smudge of smoke, apparently the burning of sugar cane fields;  because of this, smoke tinges the air like a campfire;  the air also carries the scent of the river and the forest, so somehow it creates it’s own unique subtle incense.  It feels soft and fresh in spite of the smokieness.  We pass by cleared areas with cattle, we pass by islands within islands, we pass by little houses all by their lonesome.  Also through the binoculars, you can see how dense the jungle gets—it’s dark immediately behind the trees fronting the river.  I think I saw a toucan flying in the distance—a bird with a huge beak, a flash of red or yellow before it was hidden behind the leaves.  A big splash on the banks by fallen trees is probably a caiman;  several lucky folks have gotten glimpses of the pink dolphins (including Pema this morning, from our cabin, while I was brushing my teeth).  The flat jungle peaks sometimes into higher cliffs of red soil, and also spreads out into sandy beaches, but most of it is forest/jungle.  Cumulus clouds gather over everything, offering a brief respite from the powerful equatorial sun.  It is hot, and it is wonderful to float in the pool on the ship in the middle of the Amazon—I feel like my own island within an island.  Birds fly by with calls I’ve never heard before;  there may be white egrets and turkey buzzards in the distance.   We pass by people in dugout canoes, who wave back to us—I am in awe and wonder at the human connection.  Little moths are aflutter on the river and on the ship, while the big moths rest quietly, converting our decks to the equivalent of a hanger of spaceships of all sizes and shapes.  I’m in awe at their quiet resting and their size and their fuzziness—some look like they have fur all over their bodies, some just have fur on their legs which look like little moth-legwarmers, and others look like they are sporting furry mohawks or a riot of furry muppet hair.  Their shapes are designed to fit into nature in addition to their camouflaged colors, looking like leaves and bark and shadowy secrets.  Walking around the ship outside is like an easter egg hunt, with the reward being animals (can you call a bug an animal?  These little ones feel more like animals to me) beyond my imagination.  Last night Chris and I were watching the half moon set over the river, looking like a quarter of tangerine, while the ship was being paced by a cloak of bats, a ephemeral group of about 50 dark shapes, flittering in and out of the edge of perception.  The air is soft, with a warm breeze, as the sun lowers in the sky.  In utter gratitude, wonder, and awe of it all.  My imagination is fired up with what people do and how they make their living in this part of the world, and how they meet one another when it looks so isolated, and wondering what the rhythm of their days and nights hold.  Pema, Annalyn, and I are heading in to an eco-lodge near Manaus called Tariri;  I’m looking forward to catching a glimpse of life amongst the trees and caimans and piranha and fruit that you can only find in the Amazon and that only has a name in a language that I don’t yet know the name of.  Feeling full of thanks, happy to be on this journey with amazing people (this journey and the larger one as well).  Happy Thanksgiving folks!  Xo Lisa

Grace in Ghana--

Tema, Ghana

The day after the Winneba trip I was on duty and needed to stay nearby in Tema, even though Accra is about 20 miles away, with the traffic it can take up to two hours to get there (and my duty-dean radius is 1 hour).  Patrick (the photographer), Jacques and I decided to head into Tema  to explore, our only planned destination being the Church of the Prime Meridian (as you can guess, it’s a church that the prime meridian runs by).  The port of Tema is miles of industrial bustle, and so there was a shuttle we could catch to right outside the port gates.  We took the shuttle out and then caught a taxi into the Church of the Prime Meridian.  After some fun shots straddling the meridian (*which I don’t have.  I slipped my memory card into the cd reader instead of the memory card reader on my computer, where it is snugly awaiting my return to the states.  I did take apart my computer and couldn’t get it, and I do not think “shaking it” is actually such a great idea—my computer is working great right now, I’d like to keep it that way).  After our mini-meridian photo-shoot, we wandered in to the quiet church, only to realize that a service was underway.  It was cooler inside out of the direct sunlight, and the high church walls were constructed in such a way so that almost every other cinder block was missing, the design being to let in light and air.  We sat down on the back benches as respectfully and quietly as we could, to observe a bit and let the peace of the church wash over us.  I was acutely aware that 3 white tourists had just bumbled in to their sanctuary.  As I watched the service being orchestrated by several leaders in several languages (including English), I suddenly realized that everyone in attendance was a woman.  Most were dressed in traditional Ghanaian-print wraps/dresses.  Several grandmas and mothers had babies bouncing on their laps or wrapped on their backs.  At the exact moment that I leaned over to Patrick and Jacques to comment upon this (I believe my words were, “you guys, you’re the only guys here!  I think we should leave), one of the main leaders at the front said, “Our guests!  You are welcome—come sit with us up front.  Please share with us what your mission in Ghana is.”  In the blink of an eye everything changed.  I learned so much about grace and graciousness and welcoming in that moment, in that moment where I felt like we had been intruding (we had), but with the magic of compassion and welcoming words, we became a part of the service.   We walked to the front, all eyes on us, and were handed a microphone (which, mind you, hadn’t been working for the others leading the sermon). Luckily, my two-day Winneba public speaking training kicked in, and I started us off, describing our mission of bringing college students around the world for greater peace, connection and understanding.  After the three of us said a few words, the main leader welcomed us to stay and hear the sermon, the topic of which was listening—listening so that your spirit may soar.  They prayed that our mission in Ghana would be fulfilled. We stayed for the sermon, which was beautiful—“Find a quiet space so that God can hear you” “Let your inner deity quiet it’s message of ‘I can do this alone’ to hear other messages”.  There was the constant friendly beeps from the hustling and bustling traffic outside, and the swaying of the women inside, with the Ghanian accent lilting through the church.  At one point in the service we were encouraged to pray.  Almost everyone got up and moved around to find some space to talk aloud to God.  The leadership was shared by 4 or 5 women—two who led the main sermon, one who free-styled a bit, and others who led us in song.  They asked us for any words of wisdom, and as several of our SAS elders had joined us at that point, I deferred to them.  At the end we all stood in a circle and prayed/sang while holding hands.  I left feeling full of gratitude, wonder, and at the beautiful receiving end of so much grace.  We popped outside to figure out what next—a passing group of girls all dressed in mango-yellow dresses with silver hoop earrings walked by—one of the them pulled her earring and pointed to my earring and smiled, because they matched—connections are all around us!  I then made them laugh by raising up my sunglasses and showing off my matching eye-brow ring.  We crossed the dusty busy road to get fresh coconuts, and then crossed two more streets to one of the markets.  The markets I went to in Ghana were amazing—so much for sale, all laid out in chiara-scura labyrinths—dark shaded stores with bright pathways.  To my US-centric senses, it felt a bit like going down the rabbit hole, a warren of wares.  Patrick was hilarious to trail behind—he has such a joie de vivre and a playfulness to him—very bold and connecting (I think my style is also playful, but a bit more sensitive/quiet).  Patrick is a tall, muscular, lanky guy with a buzzed head and a Castro-like moustache and beard.  He’s got bright blue twinkly eyes and typically wears a shoulder harness that has two cameras attached on either side.  I kept a list of one-liners/comments that Patrick had on our market tour:

1.  “Do you have any black shoes?” (asked of a vendor who had nothing but black shoes—about 500 pairs.)

2.  Thumbs up to another bearded & head-shaven gentleman passing by, who broke out into a big smile.

3.  vendor “do you want some fish?”  Patrick “no thanks, I’m allergic to fish”

4.  Vendor joking with Patrick “would you like to marry my daughter?”

Patrick “What is your daughter’s name?  Oh, I’m sorry, I only marry people named Mary.”

And finally, in the market are these HUGE live snails for sale—they look kind of like conches, but exist outside of water.  The vendor tried to sell Patrick one, and he said “No thanks—they terrify me!  Look—she’s doesn’t even like them!” he said of the vendor's friend.  Once she realized that Patrick was terrified of them she kept on trying to give him one for free by putting it in his pocket. “Free, free!” she would giggle, as Patrick would squeak in terror. (Sorry Patrick, you were squeaking).  Market hilarity ensued.

where's waldo in ghana

where's pema?  in Buenos Aires

As I write this now we are hours outside of Rio, and it is very wavy outside—the swells occasionally hit the bridge of the ship a certain way and a thud and plume of spray shoots up, all the way past my cabin window on the 5^th deck.  The ocean is a beautiful blue—not dark steel blue, not tropical blue, but a deep soothing blue, with whitecaps at the peaks, spraying off their own individual rainbows.  Pema’s on board somewhere writing, and we have a social with the captain in a couple of hours in John Tymitz’s cabin.  I’m so excited for Rio—we’re getting up at 5:45 to watch the ship come in to one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Ghana part 1

Coming in to the port of Ghana was beautiful.  The contrast of the small fishing boats with the big tankers, the scent of cookfires, and the big swells that tipped the ship back and forth (staff captain:  “stay in place, do not move your location”) all combined to an exciting entry.  I was signed up for the 2 day trip to Winneba, which is a village outside of Accra.  Winneba is the sister-city of Charlottesville, Virginia, and we were essentially going on a tour of their education system with their minister of education, Elizabeth.  Gift-giving is big in Ghana, so I brought lots of chocolate and Peadoodles to give away.  Our tour began by welcoming 60 folks from Winneba on to the ship for lunch and a tour, which I really appreciated.  So often we just pop into other’s homes and lives and don’t get to share the ship at all or invite anyone over for lunch—it’s like we’re in a gated community that we can’t share with anyone, so getting to invite folks on and share a meal with them was really cool.  Our trip also included:  the 2 hour drive to Winneba and being mesmerized by seeing Ghana for the first time, being welcomed by the village elders (who prayed to our ancestors and their ancestors that we have a safe trip and that our mission be fulfilled, and included pouring out libations for the ancestors), a traditional Ghanaian meal at our hotel which, for Ghana, was a 3 or 4 star hotel (I discovered that I like “Malta”, a non-alcoholic malt drink made by Guinness.  It tastes like raisin soda).  It was clean and had air conditioning and a shower with Christmas/Santa Claus curtains.  Christianity is big here—many things were named after Jesus—(Sweet Jesus Entertainment, the Lord Jesus Hair Parlor, His Glory Grocery Store), a visit to University of Ghana in Winneba with a performance by the local choir, which did end in a big group dance.  One of the Winneba students gave us all bracelets (colorful glass beads are a signature craft of Ghana), which was really sweet.  There was a mix of 23 staff, students and faculty who went on this trip, and one of the highlights was spending time with one another and becoming a high-functioning team— Fay Slaughter (former Mayor of C-ville, environmental professor and all around cool person) led our group wonderfully and also we had to do a lot of reciprocal speeches and gift-giving which Fay gracefully shared amongst the group.  It was cool to see students step up to the front and share what our mission was and to thank our guests. 

Market in Winneba, boy selling belts

Fay Slaughter and Minister of Education, Elizabeth

boy at Fisherman's house

enthusiastic classroom in Winneba

beach 10 minutes from downtown Winneba

Kids at one of the schools we visited

Being welcomed by the village elders in Winneba

It is bizarre to step off of a multi-million dollar ship and step onto a fancy air-conditioned bus and drive around areas where many people live on less than a dollar a day.  I am glad when we get off of the bus and get to walk on our own two feet and meet people eye-to-eye.  I was also glad for the air-conditioning, because Ghana is hot, but being on the bus definitely was a distancing privilege.  I roomed with Jessa, who works at the field office, at our hotel, and it was cool to get to know her a bit better and hear about her time in the Peace Corps in Honduras.  Emily and Jacques were also on this trip, and it was really great to share this experience with them.  There are so many good people to meet on the ship in addition to getting to meet good people in the countries.  The second day in Winneba we visited 6—6! amazing schools, one after the other—some private some public.  In each school we spread out to drop into a classroom and watch how teachers taught and were also invited up to the front to say something about our mission and to teach something.  For me, I didn’t know we were going to be asked to teach something, and the first class I taught a bit about California and what fruits and vegetables we grew there.  I realized that even though we were all speaking English, I was getting some blank stares, and I finally asked them “Do I sound funny to you?  Do I have a funny accent?” upon which everyone nodded and laughed in relief.  As we went to all 6 schools, we also learned from our fellow Sassers what they were teaching and what was successful in the different classrooms.  We also had practiced singing some songs before we left, which came in handy.  Just when I thought I was set for the next class, I would get an entirely different age group and I never ended up teaching the same thing twice.  In one class I taught art (this was the one classroom where the teacher, who was sweet, had absolutely no control over the kids at all).  Imagine that you are a rock star, and everyone wants to be close to you & to reach out to touch you or hold your hand and that you are surrounded by people on all sides who scream as soon as you begin to sing a line—substitute me with a piece of chalk and a blackboard and it was the same thing.  I would start to draw an animal and have them guess it (“a goat!  A llama!  A giraffe! Yes!”) and then they would finish the drawing, and immediately erase it to start over again.  One little girl held my hand in the chaos and said quietly, “will you please teach me how to draw?”  I did my best in the 5 minutes that we had left.  I think originally we were supposed to split up in to 6 groups and spend about 2-3 hours in 1 school, but somehow, perhaps due to transportation issues, we all ended up doing the 6 schools in 3 hours.  It was hard to say goodbye to the kids even after only 30 minutes.  Pretty much everyone wanted their picture taken &  to see their pictures.  I ended up handing my camera over to the kids & teaching them how to take pictures themselves, which worked really well with the older kids and was fun because I briefly got to teach them how to use the camera.   One of the younger boys almost managed to erase everything on my memory card—I am so grateful that didn’t happen.  After the 6 schools we headed back to the hotel for lunch, and then back out to go briefly to the beach (beautiful—only got to spend 10 minutes there—the shells were amazing), and then we headed to the fisherman’s council (more greetings, more pouring of libations, more well-wishes on our mission here, and a humble request for investing in their infrastructure as well).  After that we headed over to the market and met with the market queens (women who are elected leaders to keep peace in the markets) and we got to explore one of the markets—an amazing maze of fabric, fruit, fish, and food.  After that we headed back to the hotel for a dinner banquet with drummers and dancers, and then after that we drove the 2 hours back to the ship, with an interesting choice of vignettes playing on the bus’s dvd system (I can’t do it justice, it was hard to follow, it was like watching a soap opera with a moral to each story at high volume, and it was one of those insights that just when I think I have a place kind of figured out there’s a layer that I totally don’t understand/is very different from my cultural consciousness).

Unplanned Stop: Canary Islands

Canary Islands:

The Canary Islands were beautiful; I was grateful to be privileged enough to go there; they were not Morocco.  I do understand fully why we didn’t go, and I still mourn the loss of getting an intercultural exchange where groups of people could come to better understanding of one another.  I trust that this all happened for a reason, and wonder if I’m just simply supposed to travel there at a later date with my friend Garrett Naiman and our copies of The Alchemist and hang out at the Marrakesh market and camp out under the stars in the Sahara.  Anyways, the Canary Islands were dramatically beautiful.  We arrived on a Sunday, sailing in to Tenerife—a city poised on beautiful waters and in between volcanic folds of mountains with sharp edged-tops.  The Canary Islands are a part of Spain, and were named after all of the wild dogs on the islands…and then the birds were named after the islands.  Sunday in Canary was quiet;  there was a big market in town with lots of odds and ends that went on for several blocks, beginning with permanent stores, waving out to tables and booths, and ending essentially with lots of people with their wares on blankets on the sidewalks.  I bought a pair of $5 shorts which were definitely worth $5, and no more or no less.  I also got a dark leather brown bracelet with a silver spiral on it that was all hand-made and probably the coolest thing in the entire market.  It was still early when we left and passed by the Santa Cruz cathedral, which was having Mass.  I went in with a couple of shipmates for a service—I’ve never been to Mass before (I’ve been to Catholic weddings) and one of the things on my scavenger list is to go to a religious service that is not of my denomination.  Also, as a midpoint in the voyage, it was a good time to reflect and pray.  After Mass, we had lunch on the ship and rallied a group to go over the mountain to Tenerife, another city on the island with black-sand beaches (from the volcanoes).  There were 9 of us, which warranted two taxies.  Yes, we got separated.  Our taxi pulled ahead and dropped us off and we spent the next 45 minutes hiking to the left through the city (which had a variety of rocky beaches right in the city-front—places that you could walk out along a concrete wharf and climb down in to the ocean as if it were one giant powerful pool.  There was also a private pool area with huge pools.  In my group was Jacques, Emily, and Jonathan, and we had fun hiking around looking for the other party.  I stopped for gelato—fig & marscapone—awesome.  After searching very far to the left (you know where this story is going, yes?) we came back to center and got into the ocean to cool off.  Then we all took a nap on the beach plaza by the stony beach (there was a beach plaza—with showers).  It was a great nap, and a little strange to just fall asleep in the middle of a city, albeit at the beach plaza.  After our nap we decided to wander a bit and look for a good place for drinks or dinner, when Jacques had the most brilliant idea—to find a postcard of where we were (since we never really found the big black sand beach).  Once we found an aerial postcard, we realized that the big black beach was way to the right, and we headed in that direction to see if we could find the other group of folks (Kierra, Keith, Kate, Annalyn, and Brett).  We agreed to run towards our friends in slo-mo if we saw them.  We got to the black sand beach, which was beautiful, but there were no friends there.  We hung out on the beach for a bit looking for seaglass when they found us—they had hung out there for a bit, and then headed to the big pools, and then came back to look for us.  Reunited, we all went out to a Chinese buffet for dinner (40 dishes for 7 euro), watched an amazing sunset, and then watched Annalyn and Brett get a fish pedicure.

Santa Cruz, Canary Islands

Tenerife, Canary Islands--we swam & napped here

black sand beach, Tenerife, canary islands

dancing with the clouds while sailing towards Africa

Day 2—Jonathan Kroll (one of my RDs who is getting his PhD from Fielding Institute) and I led a leadership retreat.  We had 10 students come, and I think it went well.  Since this was an added-on country, we wanted to take the opportunity to provide something free and different for students.  That was only about 2.5 hours, and at the end of the retreat I headed out to wander solo around Santa Cruz—I stopped by a market with over 50 stalls and got curried beef empanadas and pistachio baklava for dessert.  I also found an internet café and caught up on emails over a cappuccino and then headed back to the ship with a lot of extra chocolate to use up my euros.  Leaving the Canary Islands was breathtaking—the sun set over the islands with the volcano making an appearance to the left, and Jacques and I stood out in the warm air with the cool breeze making us feel weightless as we snapped picture after picture of the dance of the cumulous clouds in the sweet-tart sky, laughing like 6 year olds—for me, it was one of those eternally timeless moments, laughing and being bathed in beauty from every side, suspended above the ocean and making our way on to new adventures as we headed to Africa.