The block was electric on Tuesday night.  Finals are so spread out that most people don’t have anything to do.  There’s more hanging out, more general nonsense going on.  Those of us on the fourth floor have come together at the end.  Everyone can feel the time running short and we just want to enjoy what’s left with each other.  I’m not sure why that is, but towards the end of things people seem to forgo their egos a bit and band together regardless of differences or anything along those lines.  I’ve noticed it here and been a part of it here. 

There is just a unique dynamic among all of us boys from California.  I noticed it when we first boarded the plane in San Francisco I couldn’t exactly pin it down, but there was just something different and pleasant about those of us coming to Ghana.  It’s interesting to see how that something that I noticed four months ago has developed.  It seems like people have forgone their baggage and dropped their attitudes and maybe you have to do that to survive in a situation like the one we have all found ourselves in.  It could be we all had the disposition to begin with, but I think it has been more of an adaptation than anything else.  That could be it.  That something I noticed on the plane could have been the ability to adapt and the level of maturity and self-awareness that is required to do so.  It goes without telling that all of us: Travis, Pierre, Joe, Ian, Sterling, Sandro, Nikkos, Matt, Brendan, Shane, Marlon, Alex, Eric, and Ryan have all spent our time in ways that can’t be repeated and can’t be imitated, but they can be shared and that’s the beauty of having friends.

Four parasites and bladder stones, plane rides home and plane rides back.  Falling through rusted corrugated steel roofs and traditional medicine to fix what has been broken.  Grand schemes of riding a motorcycle across exotic landscapes come crashing down in a mess of metal and concrete.  Traveling across borders into different worlds where the bullet holes remind you of the violence of men.  Missing a gear and shoving the Sergeant up a burnt red dirt road, shoving alongside of men from a different life sharing in the sweat and the laughter.  Beautiful dry landscapes dotted with dinosaur like Baobab trees and adobe style houses zooming by as the sun sets in this part of the world.  Sullen faces and bloated bellies, children asking for money and parents nowhere to be seen.  Shameless poverty against a backdrop of wealth and greed; skyscrapers rooted in slums.  A culture dedicated to the hospitality of others yet there is no trust for their own.  “You want to do business here…you need four eyes…two is not enough.” 

It’s Thanksgiving today in another part of the world…