Hump Week

This week has been a great week. I’ve been really busy. Actually, it is the busiest week so far. I’m afraid this entry will be long, but I want to record my memories. (I ended up being right, btw)

Garrett and I picked a Jimmy Eat World song that we both like so we can make an awesome/cute music video for World Joy, Stephen Sr.’s organization that has built many schools in the area. We have been brainstorming ideas for the video, and on Monday I went to school with Garrett and Zandra to get some shots. The two of them teach a class at one of the schools, so they invited me to their class to take video. I took what I needed wandered to other classrooms to get more shots. I was very intrusive, not because I was loud and obnoxious, but because every window I walked by, the kids would start yelling, “Obroni! Obroni!” I would put my finger to my lips, and they would imitate, but would still yell. I wandered to another school that was close, and I was recording a kindergarten class when the teacher broke into a song and dance that the kids love.  The kids were dancing on their desks and chairs, and the teacher was singing and dancing around the room. I had to hold back my laughter to keep the camera still. It was priceless.

After a visit to our favorite bowlfloat lady Margaret, I took a nap and woke up just in time to start dinner. Monday is international night, which means we cook food from home to get a break from the Ghanaian dishes we constantly eat. We have all the ingredients to make chicken noodle soup from scratch, and luckily, it is one of the few things I can whip up, so I volunteered to cook dinner. I boiled the chicken and threw in some garlic, onions, and the one carrot we had. Instead of potatoes, they have a sort of tuber that is like a potato, but they call a yam. It can have a bitter taste to it, but most of the time, it is like a potato. I prepared this yam (it is a beastly thing) and threw that in the soup. I rolled out some noodles, and we had some freaking delicious soup. The power went out while I was prepping, so we ate in the dark (the sun sets about dinner time).

When the power goes out, we roast. The heat and humidity is bearable if there is at least a fan on, but it is too warm to sleep when the power is out. We all (except Bev; she got a cold and went to bed early) stayed up until one in the morning playing Settlers of Catan. We were finally tired enough to sleep, and we opened the windows to let in the cool night’s air.

Douglas asked one of us to go with him to Koforidua, which is the capital of the Eastern Region and where the bank account for SEED is. I volunteered to go because I want to see as much of Ghana as I can while I am here, so on Wednesday morning, I boarded a tro tro and took for an adventure to Koforidua. I met Douglas in Kwabeng, which is the capital of the Atiwa District, which is where we live (there are many disctricts in a region, and many regions in Ghana; districts are like counties and regions are like states in relation to the USA). Douglas is doing his national service in a secondary school in Kwabeng, and we decided to go to the school together and leave right after his class to go to Koforidua. Douglas is a great teacher, even though teachers here do not have to have specialized education. I sat in his class and he threw down about soil and water conservation and photosynthesis. I also saw an albino black girl at the school, something I never thought I would see. There was also a black guy with red hair and milk chocolate skin, so he probably also had a form of albinism.

After class, we biked to Anyanim and caught a tro tro to Koforidua. The people always treat us obronies very well. They ask were we are going and make sure we get there. Even though I was with Douglas, I was separated, and the guy sitting next to me was kindly helping me. The trip took about 2 hours, but the roads were pretty nice! Blessings!

Our whole purpose for going to Koforidua was fulfilled in 20 minutes with a short bank visit. After the bank, we went for lunch, and he took me to a place where they only serve local food.  I’m not a huge fan of Ghanaian food anyway, so having to pick some food off of the menu to force myself to eat was kind of hard. Luckily, they had red red, which is fried plantains with beans, and I kind of like it. They served it super greasy, but it was ok. Douglas ordered fufu, but I can’t stand fufu.

After lunch, Douglas’ friend and SEED collector Moses had some issues with the EPA that needed to be resolved, so we paid a visit to the regional office. We sat for an hour waiting for some gal to come and talk to us. Finally, the secretary made a call, and told us that Moses needs to pay 5,000 GHC ($2,500!!!) for a fine. We left, and I ranted to Douglas about corruption. As we boarded the tro tro to go home, he received a call from the EPA office saying that the fine was now only 500 GHC ($250) and that he should come pay it now. He said he would have to come back and pay later because we were leaving. Then they called back again and said that he should name his price for the fee, and he lowered it to 200 GHC ($100). Of course, any of the money he pays will go straight into somebody’s pocket, but if he doesn’t pay or goes around the system, the same people would use their authority and power to punish him for not paying them the ridiculous fee. GAH! It bothers me so much! The country will never grow if the government agencies use their power to steal money from its citizens. This mindset is ingrained into the people, though. They have no idea how to be selfless; it is always about me me me. Garrett and Zandra told me the story about how they were teaching class and brought a couple of hard-boiled eggs for a science experiment that didn’t work out. After class, a girl asked if she could have one, and when Garrett said yes, the whole class tried to get their share of the egg. After each person tried to get his or her handful of egg, pretty much nobody got any egg because it all ended up on the ground. Everybody thinks that if one person gets something they also deserve it. No sense of gratitude, just selfish entitlement. 

Sorry for being didactic. Haha oh well.

After the tro tro ride, we biked from Anyanim to Abomosu. I put in my headphones and enjoyed the music and the air. I love riding on Douglas’ bike!  We stopped in Ekorso on our way and did some collections. As we parked at this one place, somebody called, “Obroni! Obroni come!” I was busy, so I ignored it and followed Douglas, but he caught up to me and told me that nobody comes from America to not give anything, so I have to give him something. I told him I don’t have anything, and because we were mid handshake, he grabbed harder on my hand as I pulled to leave. He was drunk; I could smell it on him, and he was acting a little lethargic. It pissed me off so bad because, FREAK, you don’t detain me to make me give you something, especially when I am busy! I told him to let go, and I pulled my hand out and left. Douglas didn’t stick around to watch, but I’m glad he didn’t because it showed that he trusted me to take care of my self. He wasn’t too far anyway, so if I did need help, he would be right there. As we were leaving, the drunk guy found us again with his child in his arms and asked if I had seen the children. They know how to play it! I just told him you work for your money, and I work for mine, and we drove off.

We hurried to the chapel in Abomosu because our second-time loan class was about to start. Of course, it started raining, so nobody showed up for class. Well, Margaret did, and others slowly filled in, but we ended up postponing class til next week. It was supposed to be our last day, too! But we filled out proposal forms for everybody that was there, so it ended up being productive anyway.

Because of class ending early, we were able to make it back to the house in time for dinner! We invited the Elders over for chicken and rice, and it was pretty good! It is nice to have some obronis to talk to about Ghana. They just had an emergency transfer, so there was a new Elder that just moved in that day. We played Scum with the four Elders, and it was super fun. The new Elder said that he never expected that on his first night in the bush he would have a nice meal with a house full of obronis. They left us a ridiculously funny note the next day.

Thursday is usually a day off, but because Bev and Allan had finished their class in Akokom, it was funding day for them. Garrett and I figured we should go out for the big occasion to try and help, if we could. It took a lot longer than I had thought it would take, but it was exciting to see the fruits of the classes. I was the designated picture-taker, mostly because I have a decent camera I have figured out how to use. That took most of the afternoon, and I went to bed super early: in bed at 9 and up at 8 the next day.

After several weeks of traveling to Amonom, Friday was our last class day. I have grown to love our class. I love their personalities and quarks, even though we speak different languages. The last class went super well, though. Garrett talked about the pod structure and how the whole pod was responsible for each other’s loans. They didn’t like that much, but we told them they can pick who they want in their pods, and they liked that a lot. They almost cheered, but were just super excited. We explained the loans, the interest rate (48% annually, which is obviously pretty high), and how collections will work. They didn’t like that very much either, but when I told them about the interest rebate, they cheered! They loved it! Every time Eva would translate what I said, they would start clapping and cheering! It was awesome. We have set up appointments with all of them for next week to see their business and fill out their loan applications. The class has been the best part of the internship because we get to know so many people here.

Garrett and I took a taxi by ourselves because the other two weren’t quite finished with their class when we were. During our taxi ride back to Abomosu, it started to rain. We walked as much as we could, but we stopped at a store and waited for about 30 to 45 minutes. We had a good chat, then ran the rest of the way to the house during a small break in the storm. Of course, the power was out, but during dinner, the power came back on. Blessings! After dinner, we corrected all of the homework that our class gave back to us. Bless their hearts, but they can’t do homework worth a shiz. We laughed at their attempts, but it really shows us their dedication. Every once in a while, they get the homework, and that shows us they truly understand what we are teaching.

The week has been a long week, but it’s hump week! We are half way! Woo!!

The Makings of a Good Week

As I mentioned before, the Abomosu District had district conference this past weekend, and we were privileged with good timing to be able to attend. Fortunately, they love me playing the “organ,” so I was invited to attend the priesthood leadership session as well at the adult and general sessions. For district conferences, the presiding authority is the mission president, so the Ghana Accra West mission president and his wife drove up to Abomosu from Ghana and spoke to all of us. President and Sister Hill are very knowledgeable, and it was awesome to sit at their feet and learn.

Three ladies had dresses out of the same "Mormon" fabric.

They keyboard decided not to work during the priesthood leadership session, so I didn’t even get to play for it. It was still great having a cushioned seat on the s

tand. We were barely given a half of an hour for lunch before the next session started, so we bought a half of a loaf of bread and cookies from off the street and munched to keep down the hunger pains.

I was able to fix the keyboard for the next session, but the dinky keyboard can’t be heard from the back of the room anyway, so I had a hard time thinking I was really changing how the songs were sang for most of the people. I love to play, but I don’t believe these people have really had much music exposure besides their own singing and the radio, so I would love to have then experience accompaniment for hymns.

Sister Hill chatted our ears off after the adult session, and it was interesting to speak to the wife of a brand new mission president. She is already involved in all the issues of missionaries and of the mission, so she was telling about the problems they worry about constantly: they worry about American greenies adjusting, African missionaries being impatient to poor greenie missionaries who are adjusting, and the lack of missionary couples, to name a few.

The way plantains grow

My wish for music exposure came true Sunday, when somebody had a great idea to plug the keyboard into the sound system and broadcast through the speakers. Of course, the best-attended meeting was the Sunday session, and the chapel and the exterior foyer was full to brim. It was almost like playing an actual organ back home: I was loud, but most importantly heard, and the keyboard even has an organ sound! I don’t know if anybody else was touched by it, but it made me so happy to play.

Of course, the rules of courtesy for accompanists are all thrown out the window in countries where no body accompanies. I was asked while playing prelude if I could play a hymn for a group that wanted to sing during the session, and it was one I had never played before. They are lucky I can sight read well. It was fun, though, because he was just as worried about me playing right as I was about playing it right for him, so we communicated the whole song with out exchanging a word, which is how it is supposed to work.

Margaret (in our Abomosu class) selling bowlfloats

There was something about Sunday that made it such a great day. I was very edified from the conference, but something made Sunday very special. It has spilled into the week as well, because Tuesday was also a great day. We volunteered at the health clinic, which I just put in my headphones (Battle Born, The Killers, just in case you were wondering) and mindlessly input data. Time passes pretty fast, though. Mama B bought us delicious bowlfloats, I purchased more fabric for a shirt, and our class in Amonom started complementing us about teaching them. Then the Ghana Black Stars, the Ghana national team who is trying to qualify for the World Cup, had a game against Egypt, and they won 6-1. The game was in Kumasi, which is only an hour or two away from here, so we totally could have gone!! AND tickets were only 10 GHC ($5.00) for general admission, and 20 GHC ($10.00) for VIP seats!! But we didn’t realize it until the game had started. Oh well.

We tried to tell Laffy Taffy jokes to our class in Amonom, and none of them got them. It was so funny trying to explain how it was supposed to be funny, and have all of them give us blank stares. Of course, we have to chalk some of that up to poor English, but we were working with the guy with the best English, and he was giving us the blankest of blank stares. He wasn’t even sure what the work “joke” meant. Ha!

On Wednesday, our class went long, and I could see many of the women were starting to fall asleep. I told them to stand up and stretch, and they were kind of giggling doing it, but they needed to get some blood moving. Garrett shouted out, “Jumping jacks!” and started jumping the jacks. Then, all of the ladies started to do them too. None of them know how to do them, and it was hilarious watching them do what ever awkward jumping moves they thought was a jumping jack. None of them wear bras or any sort of supportive clothing, so there was a lot of extra movement, if you know what I’m saying. Moments like these make it so fun to be out here.

Home

The market in Accra Central

The travel home from Accra was a very long ride. We hopped on a packed and compact bus and uncomfortably rode the five hours to Abomosu. Maybe it was gratitude from being off the bus, but when we arrived, Abomosu felt like home. It was nice to be in a place that was familiar, and especially nice to stretch out my legs.

The week passed quickly for me, and I believe it is because I am no longer counting days. The day will pass by, and I am surprised when six o’clock arrives and the sun sets. I think the adjustment days are past, and the weeks will slip through my fingers as I try to do everything I want to do.

I am not sure if I said this already, but half of the reason for going to Accra was to pull out some monies. Of course, when we got there, I found that I left my debit card back in Abomosu. Allan did the same, so we borrowed some cash from our compadres and hopped we would find a way to find an ATM when we got back.

The uncomfortable bus

Our answer came when Elder Dalton offered us a ride with him to Nkawkaw (pronounced N-Co-Co). There is a sick man from the branch in a hospital out there, and Elder Dalton was going to pay a visit, being in the district presidency. Nkawkaw has several banks and ATMs, so he graciously let us come along.

The ride was bumpy at first, then a nice road appeared out of no where, and we were able to go upwards of 50 mph, something I haven’t done since we got off the airplane. The sick man’s daughter came along with us, and first thing we dropped her off so she could see her dad. Elder Dalton took us to the ATM at Barclay’s Bank then wanted to show us the market.

Markets here have a stench that, to me, is highly unpleasant; there are aromas of fish, rotten food, and stale filth. It isn’t unbearable, but every time I go, I have to adjust to the scent. At this market, it was particularly bad, especially when we went to the butcher’s shop. Elder Dalton was so excited to take us there. I was not very fond of it. The first thing you see/smell are the innards of the animals in a display bin right inside the front door. My stomached twisted a little, but eased as the stink partially subsided. The workers were extracting all of the meat from every part of the animal (I couldn’t tell what it was, but it was probably beef) in the same unsanitary way I would have imagined. All of them were working on tables that probably hadn’t been really cleaned since they opened then would shake the hands of people walking by as they worked. I sure hope I don’t eat meat that comes from there.

The rest of the market was fun. The aisles were small, and the shop owners loved having us obronis come look at their selection. Elder Dalton was purchasing food for him and his wife, and we all were keeping an eye out for fabrics we liked. The Ghanaian hand-woven fabric is called kenti, and Elder Dalton wants to purchase some to make for his wife. Most of the fabric shops have prints , but not authentic fabric. We found a small scarf of kenti that belonged to a shop owner, but we never found yards of fabric to purchase.

After the market, we visited the sick man in the hospital, who was sitting in his garments outside with just a piece of fabric wrapped around him. The men are very open with their garments, just as the people are very open with their body. Women whip out their boobs to breast feed no matter where they are, and guys pee just off the side of the road, so exposing their G’s doesn’t matter much. Chalk it up to culture, I guess.

The beautiful landscape in Nkawkaw

On the ride home, I was tired, and I tried to take a nap during the bumpy drive. Just as I was about to fall asleep, the black lady sitting next to me would hit the brim of my hat to wake me up. She did it several times, then I asked if it was bad to sleep in cars, because I would like to take a snooze. She left me alone for a while then woke me back up a short while later with a whack to my hat (but I think it was because I was starting to fall on the other lady who we offered to take home from the hospital). I later asked Douglas if it was bad to sleep in cars, and he told me that if the car was veering off of the road, you have to be awake to watch it. He also said you shouldn’t fall asleep in a taxi, but I totally understand that. But superstitiously, they will not sleep in any other vehicle.

Friday morning, Stephen told us that the medical center in town needed help, so he volunteered us to go over and assist where we could. I was typing information into a database, and Garrett was next to me extracting and printing information from a database. I finished in about an hour and a half something that probably would have taken them all day to do. None of them are very computer literate, so typing efficiently is not among the skills they possess. It was actually really fun to work there; I will probably continue to volunteer every Tuesday and Friday. (You can't tell, but the poster behind my head has "tropical disease" pictures, which are kind of graphic: Elephantiasis, testicles the size of a cantaloupe, pooping worms, you know, the rounds.)

Health center instruction

This weekend is district conference, the Ghana Accra West mission president, President Hill, presiding. I was asked to play the organ (keyboard), and I attended priesthood leadership and the adult session on Saturday. They were long sessions, but the spirit was strong and the messages were inspired. The keyboard did not work the first session, but I fixed it for the next session. I doubt they can even hear me play, but I think that those who are used to an accompaniment for hymns (white people) appreciate having somebody who can play along. One more to go on Sunday!

We chatted with Sister Hill, and she asked us if there is anybody we could recommend as couple missionaries, because the mission desperately needs some. So if you can think of anybody, let me know so I can give their names to President and Sister Hill. You can probably get out here in a jiffy! I also realized that Ghana can feel like home to anybody that serves and loves the people. I don’t know if I will be here long enough to get to that point, but I understand how immersing yourself into service can brew a culture of love and understanding for those you are serving. I’m so glad I can get a taste of it, though.

Adventure to Accra

Benjamin's snail farm

When we left Accra to head inland, we promised our return for Conference weekend. As the days passed, we all looked forward to coming back to the capital. The idea even helped me get through some bad days, just thinking we could get some American food, use fast Internet, and watch the USU/BYU football game.

We were trying to figure out how to get to Accra in a timely manner. Stephen, Sr. counseled us to not travel at dark, and it gets dark here at six. We teach our classes on Friday at two, and we were told travel takes about three hours, so we had a tight fit. We were thinking of taking a taxi straight there, but that would be 150 GHC (“Ghana Cedis”), which is comparatively very expensive. We doused that idea, which, momentarily, doused the dream of getting to the capital in time for the football game. Luckily, we decided on a quick leave after our classes, which put us at our destination shortly after dark, but, most importantly, Stephen said was ok.

We taught a good lesson, then quickly returned to Abomosu to catch a taxi to Anyanim. We fetched a decent and roomy taxi, especially compared to the taxi we took from Amonom to Abomosu. Allan sat in the front, and the rest of us four smaller people fit into the back semi-comfortably. Zandra sat between Garrett’s legs for the 45-minute trek, but they think it is comfortable. As we started, the clouds opened and let the rain and lighting go. With the windows rolled up, it got pretty stuffy in the car, but it was nothing compared to Zandra’s fear of lightning. I wouldn’t say it is a fear of lightning, but just an over-active imagination picturing every bad outcome possible without thinking realistically or positively. Hence, it applies to more than just lightning, but lightning does the trick.

The way from Abomosu to Stephen's Office

 A bolt struck nearby as to crack instantaneously, freaking her out. The rain poured, adding to the confinement. Then, our driver took a dirt road, telling us that it was a shortcut. No biggie, I though; WTF ARE YOU TAKING US, Zandra thought. Generally the people are not out to get us, and we established as much rapport as one can with a taxi driver, so I didn’t think twice about the shortcut. Plus, it is not like the paved roads are better than the dirt roads.

The market in Abomosu

We are tearing down the road, mud flinging as we pass. He has taken this road several times, I’m sure. Slowly, he wheeled through puddles and dodged around potholes. We looked out our foggy windows to see dirty streams of water splashing down the road. Because of a lack of judgment or a brief moment of unawareness, he picked up a little too much speed and fell into too deep a puddle. Muddy water engulfed the car, making it seem like we were driving into a river (I thought of Inception where the car was hitting the water). The image of the opaque water covering the windshield is burned into my memory. Everybody made a noise of astonishment, whether it was a scream or a “Whoa!” The car drove a couple more yards then sputtered to a stop.

Driving through that much water swamped the engine, causing it to stutter and die. I hope we don’t have to get out in this weather, I thought to myself. I wouldn’t have said it out loud because it would have stressed Zandra, not that she wasn’t stressing herself out anyway. The driver turned the key over and over, the engine only stammering and murmuring and never taking life. We wondered how far it was to our destination? Is this really a shortcut? Will it keep raining? I couldn’t help but think the worst, but I was laughing at the whole situation as well. Of course we would be in a hurry, then have our car die in such a glorious, yet stupid way.

Collections in Asunafo

After about 5 minutes of prodding, the car stammered back to life, and we finished our ride to Anyanim. Our nice driver even found us a tro tro, something beyond expected, but very appreciated.

We sat in the tro tro (a tro tro is basically a 15-passenger van that is used like a bus)  for almost a half an hour before we took off. While we were waiting, a man gave us semi-official looking tickets then said, “I give you ticket, you pay now.” We weren’t about to get ripped off, so we said we would pay when we were moving. He stuck around for a bit, even taking money from another passenger, but we left and he never came back to take our money.

I believe, looking back, that it was protocol to just pay him. We definitely took the safe route, but after we took off, we were never asked to pay. Everybody that got on (the tro tro will just pick up people off the side of the road) just paid when they hopped on It was a long drive, much longer than anticipated. With the extra time in the taxi and the waiting time at the station, we were pretty behind schedule. It was dark after just an hour on the tro tro. I toned out the noise with my iPod, which made the ride bearable.

Driving to Stephen, Sr.'s farm

The road to Accra is Sketchville High. The paved road is full of muddy potholes, and the rain marred the dirt road. At times, I thought we would never make it through the mud, but I guess we were in a heavy vehicle. Shortly after leaving Anyanim, we passed an overturned, semi-sized box truck. We picked up the driver of the vehicle in the tro tro, who was uninjured, so he could find a crane to flip his truck. The natives were all seemingly yelling in the car, so I tuned out, but later a guy translated back the story of a bus cutting the driver off, causing him to veer and tip his truck.

Beautiful Margaret at church

We knew we had to get off at Achimota, but how to get there or when to get off was another story. Luckily, people look after you when you show you need help, so everybody helped us get off at the right place; the tro tro man even helped us get a taxi. Everything had been priced as expected until this taxi. I asked Douglas to give me an idea of how much everything would cost so I wouldn’t get ripped off. The taxi driver told us 25 GHC for the trip to the office, but Douglas said it would only be 14 GHC. I fought with him, telling him to stop ripping us off, but he only lowered to 20 GHC. Powerlessly and tiredly, we gave in (it is only 4 GHC a piece verses 3 GHC a piece anyway).

Ironically, the same man you fight with to get your taxi ride is the same man you have to depend on to get you where you are going. The attitude changes from defensive tension for your fare to helpless dependence. He told us not to worry, and he kept to his word. We thanked him, and finished our journey five hours after we started it.

The road to Asunafo

First things first: food. The past interns told us of a pizza place called Papa’s Pizza, and the idea of pizza was so enthralling we could hardly wait. We called, accustomed to the ordering system in the States, only to be told to call back later when the delivery guys were back. We went shopping to get water and other supplies, only to find the grocery store just closed. It was dark, so I didn’t especially want to be on the streets, so it was frustrating nothing was working out. The pizza place called us back, and we ordered three large pizzas to be delivered ASAP.

The cheese on the pizza was the first dairy product I had eaten for three weeks. Sadly, the pizza was not what I was expecting (I expected Pizza Hut quality, but it’s Africa, so yeah right), but I still ate like a madman. Three pizzas was a little too much, but we offered some to the security guard, who pretty much at the whole third pizza.

The USU/BYU football game started at 8 PM, as dictated by ESPN, so I planned a little nap before I turned on the game at 2 AM. I woke up just before and took a cold shower to wake me up. I turned on the game and it was already the third quarter and Chuckie Keeton was not playing. WHAT????? Oh, 8 PM EST, which means it started at midnight. And Chuck? On the sideline with his knee wrapped. What a terrible game to watch, too, as Utah State struggled to even get a first down. I finished the disappointing game and fell back asleep at 4 AM. The game was one of the main reasons I pushed come on Friday, and even though it was disappointing, I am so happy I got to watch some football!

Listening to the Priesthood Session

The next day, Beverly and I went to the Accra Mall to get some money out. Well, I should say I went with her to get her money out because I left my debit card in Abomosu (insert profanities). She did some clothes shopping, which I had not known she would do or else I would not have gone, then we ate at the food court. It was not necessarily a pleasant morning, but the day was much improved when Conference started. I love listening to the words of the leaders of the Church, who are prophets of God. The sessions went from four to six, from eight to ten, and Priesthood was from midnight to two. I only fell asleep for President Uchtdorf’s talk in the Priesthood session, but I will probably just watch it before conference starts today.

I have been feeling kind of homesick lately. I feel isolated because everything is different than I am used to: not driving my own car, not going out on my own, having to watch out for the others, not eating at proper food joints, not knowing where anything is, not being able to shop for common items, not knowing anybody but the interns, etc. All these things play in my mind, but I wouldn’t rather be in a different place. I am so glad to be here.

We will have our four-week muffins on Tuesday, which marks one-third of the way. I have learned a lot about myself, and I have gained valuable experience doing the work I am here to do. I hope I make it the last two months with out killing anybody, but mostly I just hope that I can eat 80 more plates of bland ramen noodle casserole (we eat it every other day when Mama B cooks for us).