How are you? No, really.

The bouquet of aromas wafting off of my perfected tk-touch stew fills my kitchen as I mindlessly stir with an audiobook keeping me company.  Completely caught off guard, I shrieked as I saw a face in the doorway of my living room, which was received by a chorus of giggles.  Joshua, Nathaniel, and Francis had paid me a visit to see if I was feeling better.  They apparently walked right through the unlocked front door after I had not heard their knocks and “tippy!” shouts.  After hugs, I told them to NEVER do that again.  “Always wait for someone to answer the door regardless of if it is unlocked!”  They continued to giggle and hesitantly nodded with some comprehension.

I’ve been sick for the past few days, riddled with aches and fatigue.  The luxury of being able to guiltlessly lie in bed with nowhere to be and nothing on the agenda but recuperation, strikes me as I realize I haven’t left the house in two full days.  Even being sick is better out here.  I know that if I was truly hit with some debilitating illness, I could send one text message and people would be at my door with medicine, food, and kindness.  Though at home I know I could count on my roommates to pick me up some soup on their way home, I would also be aware that their own busy lives consume them and asking them to help would be asking them to go out of their way.   As I write this, I got a knock on the door and opened it to find that the two youngest boys (Richard age 7ish and Michael age 6ish) had pushed Yaw in his wheel chair from the centre, up the bumpy dirt road, all the way to my house.  They stopped by for a mere five minute visit just to check how I was doing, and then made the arduous journey back under the HOT hot sun at the peak of daylight.  They were my third set of well-wishing visitors of the day.  Though having unexpected company can get a bit tiresome at times (ok, as I just welcomed my fourth visitor while writing this post...a lot tiresome at times), the community aspect of this beautiful culture overwhelms me with warmth and love.  As I mentioned in my first post, even the practice of sitting side-by-side in silence reflects the togetherness that is so rich here.  Now that I have learned how to set boundaries and have informed my beloved family here that I require alone time and privacy at home, I have been able to fully appreciate the beauty of fellowship.  

People genuinely care for one another and will go far out of their way to help someone who needs it.  It seems that their honor and integrity is at stake and they will do nothing short of bend over backwards to accommodate even a stranger.  I was struck by this first when in Accra with BB.  Not unlike many major cities I have traveled to, we were bombarded by dudes wanting our hands in marriage and peddlers pushing just about anything in our “white” faces for about three times the fair price.  The way that these folks did differ was that they were extremely generous and helpful once put on the spot.  BB would yell, “No, I will not marry you, but why don’t you make yourself useful and tell us where the OA bus station is.”  Without missing a beat, the boy-man would point us in the right direction and would ceaselessly explain how to get there until we would nod with understanding.  One man, who started out hitting on us, ended up changing his tune once he found out we were lost and gently walked us all the way to our location and hit the road after we gushed our gratitude.  The people here take their title of “West Africa’s Friendliest Country” VERY seriously.  Sure, there are baddies here just like everywhere else in the world, but there is this apparent sense of pride in an individual’s goodwill.  I have experienced thoughtfulness and compassion from people I have only known one short month in ways that are rare at home.  At first, I was confused by these phone calls I received from people I had met in Accra or boys who had shipped off to school, that simply had one purpose: to see how I was doing.  At home, we rarely pick up the phone to call someone, and if we do, we make a big event out of it.  Phone calls become phone dates that require precious blocked off hours in our busy schedules.  If we see our phone unexpectedly ringing, we assume something life-changing has happened that prompted such an extraordinary action like speaking voice-to-voice over our texting/internet machines.  We are even annoyed when we receive a phone call that’s purpose could have been communicated through a text message.  But here, this is not the case.  People will use their precious purchased credit to pick up the phone and ask how you are doing.  They have been wondering about your adjustment and wanted to make sure you are fine.  TALK ABOUT CULTURE SHOCK!  People I spent maybe a few hours with were thinking about me and genuinely care about my well-being, something that is not awarded at home to anyone outside of our dear friends and family.  This sense of consideration emanates through every interaction, down to greeting every person you pass with the time-appropriate phrase.  Though there is a script of greetings with learned responses, if you met “how are you” with an actual reporting of how you are in fact not doing so well, you would not be looked at with awkward annoyance, but genuine compassion (then followed up with phone calls and visits until you assure you are feeling good again).  Actions of thoughtfulness are not done expecting any sort of congratulations of being a top-notch friend or even reciprocation.  I reflect honestly and realize that I’m even guilty of this kind of kindness from time to time.  I know that if I go out on a limb for this person during their time of need, they will certainly do the same for me or at least feel guilty if they are unable to do so.  That confession sits like hot rocks in my stomach.  All this not to discount the beautiful and rich friendships I am beyond blessed to have at home and the endless and unconditional love of my family, but to explain the difference of the responsibility people feel they have here towards what we would call strangers or acquaintances.  The benevolence you receive here is not earned with time or shared experience, but granted right away.  I haven't had the ability to test these relationships with time, but I hope there is depth beyond this friendliness where true friendship (as we know it) can blossom.

As I thought I’d surely be wrought with loneliness while “alone” in this foreign country, aside from one or two days in the beginning, I haven’t really had room for its full glory.  I’m most certainly not ruling out its future visits, but as of now, loneliness is somewhere else, haunting some other poor soul.  My family of personality-filled boys and the couple solid friends I have made are making sure I am feeling loved and cared for.  Did I not come here so I could care for these boys?!  How turned around this has become.  As much as I knew I would never be alone with my expert-level friend-making skills, I sincerely believe even the most socially challenged person couldn’t and wouldn’t be all alone here.   I am able to have all the solitary time I need while knowing friendship and conversation are one quick walk or phone call away--the best of both worlds.

A slumber party turned goof session under the baobab tree and stars during a blackout

pretending to sleep

Thank you for your prayers and good energy towards ensuring I find community here, as I know that's what is coming to fruition here.

Love from Sandema,

Tippy

Countryside Clarity

As I curiously watched the leggy insect seemingly take in the scenery perched atop a small boy’s head, I contemplated swatting it off knowing full well I would have no way to explain to the child in Buli why the hell I just struck him.  I decided to leave the bug and the boy alone and turned to half-listen to the other men around who were discussing the upcoming Ghanaian election, “…education needs to be accessible to all…he really is great at capturing the attention of the people…but his policies are not well structured…”  We were all huddled under a small shelter while the deluge pounded complex rhythms on the aluminum roof.  We shared the idea to wait out the storm before heading back home.  Joe and I had taken a trip to a nearby village, Kadema, where he started a sustainable dry season farming initiative.  We had a meeting with the farmers and discussed the plans for the upcoming season.  The journey out to Kadema was stunningly gorgeous with the whipped cream skies and the dirt roads that led us through beautiful tropical trees, open skip-worthy-song-singing fields, and hoards of roaming animals.  I swore off motorcycles after the accident with my adventurous but at times over-zealous pops in The Dominican Republic, but there’s really no way to avoid them here.  I’m actually thankful for that as there couldn’t have been a more perfect way to enjoy the trip than on the back of a moto-bike alternating between closed eyes and hungry ones, taking it all in.  This is my life for now.  I’m so grateful.

Do you remember the last time you felt truly rested; at peace; and in-tune with your mind, body, and spirit?  I don’t remember either, but I’ve arrived to this state and can’t even trace the steps for getting here.  This past week, I found clarity I was searching for, motivation I had left somewhere, creativity I had suffocated, and weightless bliss I hadn’t seen in some time.  My life here has no work stress, personal money stress, holiday stress, boyfriend stress, and no social calendar with every hour reserved until two weeks from Tuesday.  I make my own schedule, sleep solid hours, live in a house alone with no rent, guiltlessly read books for hours on a Friday night, and only do what I want.  And surprisingly, I’ve wanted to do many things that I avoided at home.  I have been eagerly grant researching and writing (for an organization where I know all the beneficiaries personally), I’ve been able to creatively conceptualize and work on new projects, I’ve been able to think clearly and without anxiety about my future plans, and I’ve even excitedly updated my resume!  The thing is, I didn’t even realize how foggy and heavy I felt at home until those things were lifted.  It’s amazing how we function in The States running at 135 miles per hour, balancing 8 loads on our head, with our tanks on E.  Are we actually as productive as our schedules boast?  Are we present enough in all of our forty obligations to make it worth it?  When I was home, even the thought of tackling grad school research brought stones to my stomach and flashing lights of migraines with aura.  We’re so overloaded that any additional task seems like the last pebble that collapses the stacked pile.  We find ourselves plagued with psycho-somatic aches and can’t locate the source of the quivering anxiety deep within us.  We try yoga, meditation, therapy, prayer, etc. sometimes without results.  I mean, heck, I’ve tried all those things, but it wasn’t until I was ripped out of my comfort zone and into a rural African town with no friends and no solid direction that I have found some peace and clarity.  Weird, huh?  I don’t think it needs to be so drastic, but I wonder what it will take for me to find this when I catch myself stuck again in the hamster wheel of Western society.  I know this feathery floating will eventually be grounded by the heavy gravitational pull of reality when planning for my year back as my time here dwindles, so I say all this not to brag, but for posterity—to remind my future self that life rules when you can see straight.  I don’t have an answer for how to bring this energy home, but I do hope that some of it naturally sticks to me.  I hope I can remind myself that life is as simple or as complicated as we make it, and sometimes all it takes is a beautiful drive through the quiet countryside to reset.

I always think it so neat when you can watch the clouds blanket the sky and tuck the sun in before a downpour.

Farmers we are supporting with the G-Roots project

This is not the post I had planned for this week, but I had to share before the moment shifts even in the slightest.  Wishing all you dears some of the peace I'm floating in.

Love from Sandema,
Tippy

Bankou and Stew for Two: Friendship and Food

Part of any big move is adjusting to losing your community and building yourself a new one.  As I'm blessed to be surrounded by loving friends and family at home, I have been impatient with myself and want the whole friendship-network building thing to happen apace.  Being the only foreigner in my small town right now, it's easy to resign to loneliness at times.  Despite that, I've been trying hard to meet people and build connections with those around me.  The folks in my town are amiable and have a real playfulness about them.  I've been meeting people left and right, but my schedule of working from home during the day and hangin' with my little dudes at night, hasn't allowed me to to organically take the quick introductions to friendship level.

Last week, Joe and I traveled to Bolgatanga, the town where our mailbox is (puts things in perspective, huh ;)), which is about 45 minutes to two hours away depending on how much the bus wants to stop.  On the way we took a trotro, which are vans (usually rickety) that work like a private bus system.  You're usually sitting on half a seat with someone's arm in your face, but they can be a shorter ride than the Metro Mass Transit buses because they stop less, but more importantly because the drivers are reckless and launch off potholes and go much faster than you think any rusty tin can on wheels should.  When we got to Bolga, I got my first glimpse of other foreigners in the area!  THEY EXIST!  I peeped about a handful and vowed that when I start coming to the town alone, I will ardently hunt them down and force friendship upon them.  Though my main focus is to make friends with the people in Sandema, I think it's important to have at least a few ex-pat connections to ease the feeling of "doing this alone".  Only a foreigner truly understands what another foreigner is going through.  After a lovely day of exploring this mini city, we got on the bus to head home.  For the way back, we decided to take the MMT bus so I could experience the different options.  The bus is pretty nice, but there is obviously no AC and it gets packed to the brim.  As folks were piling in, a lot of the men who were sitting, gave up their seats to the women who were standing (chivalry ain't dead in a culture where women stay in the kitchen! ...wait).  Joe gave up his seat to a young lady which ended up being a great move in the my chess game of life.  The woman's name is Veronica and she's a 27 year old nurse at the Sandema hospital but is originally from the mailbox town.  The bus ride ended up taking a solid two hours, which allowed for some quality getting-to-know-you time, albeit sweaty and uncomfortable getting-to-know-you time.  Vero and I really hit it off and decided to meet up soon.  When we got together, she told me a bit about her life and it turns out she's quite the foreigner magnet.  The year before nursing school, she worked at an orphanage with some German volunteers.  She built great friendships and somewhat understands what the volunteer experience is all about and knows how to deal with us non-Ghanaian folk (when to look out for people cheating us, cultural considerations for how not to offend, and the reality that most volunteers (though they are "white"--I'm white here) are actually pretty broke).  She's extremely generous, thoughtful, and has this sassy sense of humor that you can't help but be taken by.

This past Thursday, Vero came over to teach me how to make bankou and okra stew.  Before I get into that, let me tell you a bit about the food here.  Generally, the flavors remind me of Korean food as the stews and soups are robust and quite spicy.  I really enjoy all the stews, but my only complaint is that they are heavily oil-based so can make you feel a bit like a 300-pound pizza-face post-meal (mmmm, pizza...........sushi...bagels...).  Now, what is eaten with the stews and soups is something to get used to.  BB calls this the "globular food group," which is the perfect description.  Bankou, foufou, and tizzet are some of the different types of globs with flavor and texture variations.  Bankou and foufou are similar in texture, a mix between bread dough and mashed potatoes.  Bankou tastes kind of like sourdough bread or Ethiopian injera and foufou is blander and potatoey.  Tizzet is more flavorless like foufou, but it has the texture of firm tofu made of porridge.  The object is to take a small piece of glob (ALWAYS WITH YOUR RIGHT HAND), make a little indent in it, and pick up the stew or soup.  Excuse me, but have you EVER tried to eat soup with your hand?!  I would think it impossible if I didn't see all the boys at the centre plow through their soups using their globs.  Needless to say, I fail at this and the resulting mess is greater than what I actually get into my mouth.  I've been more shameless in asking for a spoon when I eat at the centre so I can actually enjoy Madam Judith's cooking.

So, Vero set out to teach me how to make bankou and stew, and I have to say the result was tasteriffic!  

Vero mixing the flours and water for the bankou

As it heats up, it gets super paste-like and very difficult to stir

So I finally surrender to the notion that there are veggies I don't really like, and okra is on the list.  Though the stew was incredible in taste, I can't get over the slimy phlegminess of okra.

putting the cooked bankou into plastic bags for setting

The stew is finished!

how it's served

sweaty from the hot kitchen and ready to dig in!

Vero and I enjoyed our evening so much that we decided to make meal-making a weekly affair!  I can't wait until she teaches me fish and egg stew with yam (non-glob but used the same way), my favorite thing I've had here so far.  I'm so grateful for this new friendship and I hope to make many more meaningful connections with my fellow town dwellers.

Thank you home friend/family network for supporting me, loving me, and following on my adventure.  You have no idea how much I appreciate all of you that have been a part of sending me here with funds, words, and love.  I miss you all so much!  I wish I could get a good squeeze from home :)

Love from Sandema,
Tippy

Smaaaali Smaliiii!: A Day in the Life

It constantly sounds like someone's knocking on my door...or on my roof...or on my window.  The bats at night banging on my roof whilst squealing little bat noises are what gets me the most...I take that back as I just heard a goat kick my house and yell like a man.  NOBODY'S HOME, DAMMIT!  These strange new sounds are littered throughout my day.  I live in a rural farming town in the Upper East Region of Ghana so many of my neighbors are animals.  The goats dauntlessly sit on my house and "MEEEEEEEEHHHH" at me loudly as I pass.  Jerk goats.  Roosters cock-a-doodle-doo all day (not just in the morning as an affable wake-up call like all childhood cartoons led me to believe), and when a cow gets a moo in their system, watch out--it's loud and can go for quite long.

 

Ghana is close to the equator so there is about twelve hours of daylight and twelve hours of darkness all year round.  This is great for early risers, but seeing as I am accustomed to the young city dweller schedule of late nights and lateish (8am--yeah, I know that's later than most of you rise) wake-ups, I feel like I'm being chased by night once the afternoon strikes.  The sun rises at about 6:00 or 6:30 (so I've been told) and goes down at around the same in the PM version.  My morning routine has drastically been reduced as it now only contains teeth brushing and face washing.  My hair goes up off my neck in a school teacher chignon and my face is free of any makeup before sweat gives me a natural "dewy" (read: nasty, sweaty, dirty) look.  I walk or take my bike, Percy (in honor of the first toy train I bought for CB), down to the centre.  I hear the town's car/motowash blasting Black Eyed Peas Where is the Love or some other random old, but not old enough to be period categorized, song.  At least two children yell, "Smaaaaali Smalliiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" (foreigner) like I'm unaware, and I receive many bright "Salueh" (good morning) greetings as well.  Once at the centre, I spend a couple hours with Joe, the local coordinator, to do some work and to figure out what needs to be done for the day.  I go back home for lunch and to do a few hours of grant research and other internet involved matters for the centre/community.  I think this is a good time to show you around my house!

The outside of my lovely house

The view right outside my doors.  Apparently, during the dry season all of this turns brown :(

Room for living

Wall of love in my living room (thanks, Lisa Puckett for the lovely scrap book that I deconstructed and pasted up!)

The kitchen where I almost set my house on fire...I mean...what?  No, really.

My cozy bedroom.  The mosquito net, though it amps the degrees a bit, makes me feel like I have the princess canopy I always wanted as a little girl.  I tuck it in and feel like I'm safe from all the dragons under my bed (or the vampires on my roof).

After my time at home, I go back to the centre around 3:00 or 4:00 when the children are all out of school.  If all goes according to plan, we play, we eat, we do homework, say our prayers, and I go home at around 7:00 or 8:00.  But let's get real, how often do things go according to plan.  Lately, the power has been going out a lot, so things change depending on when there is "lights off" or a black out.  The other night, there was no power so we sat outside and waited it out.  You have to remember, when it's dark here, it's DARK.  Every star boasts and the moon gently oversees the orchestra of the night.  As I was sitting under the tree with the younger boys reading books and drawing in the dirt by the light of my headlamp, I was overwhelmed by how much love I already have for them, for this family.  Obviously, the calm and self-entertainment the boys spring into during black outs comes from experience and way of life, but I still can't get over how lovely these kids are.  Yes, they act up and have their moments, but overall, they show incredible kindness to one another, love to learn, and are remarkably self-sufficient.  It makes me wonder what the price of privilege really is.  If these kids were socialized in wealth and privilege, most of them would not exhibit this kind of maturity and life acumen.  Not saying their hearts are not genuine, but coming from a sociological mind, I can't help but think in this way.  I've spent years working with children of all ages and it's unicorn hunting to find youngsters that wash their clothes, help in the kitchen, play nicely with their siblings, and do their homework willingly and happily.  It makes me wonder what the balance should be between providing the best life possible for our children and letting them live life a little more balanced with the majority of the world.  I could clearly go on this tangent for pages on end, but I'll leave it at that...for now.

This is Yaw, his body is limited with muscular dystrophy, but his heart and smile work juuuust fine.

Michael and Richard, eating "water fruit" from the lily pads in the pond near by.  They offered me some, so I politely had a small bite.  I'm pretty sure I just ate a flower.

Joe and I bought the younger kids workbooks so they can do extra work after school.  What kid you know ever smiled so big for a workbook?

The older boys investigating the goods.  Both Jacob (red shirt) and Daniel (green shirt) spoke up after everyone settled down each expressing their gratitude towards, Joe, the centre, and me, for purchasing these books for their brothers.  Then, they told the boys to take advantage of these materials and explained how important learning is and how these will greatly help to advance them in their classes.

I will probably continue to gush and gush about these boys in posts to follow, but that seems enough for now :)  As I begin to take on more projects with the centre and community, my workday will most likely evolve with it.  I'm excited to see what's in store for me!  I have so many other shares about this past week, but I am trying hard not to make each post novel length.  I will just have to save my other thoughts and reports for next time!

Bonus: photos I was able to extract from my iphone!

BB getting her hair pulled in eight different ways. Her face is smiling but her body is surging with pain.

Me and BB at Labadi beach.

Jacob, Christopher, and I getting ready to board the bus for our 15-hour journey.  You can't tell in this photo, but we are actually all matching--blue tops, black bottoms.  We almost looked like those cheesy families that travel in matching clothes to be easily spot.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand it's way past midnight and the sun and my day will be here in no time.  Love to all of you and thanks for reading :)

love from Sandema,
tippy

Foreign Places, Foreign Feelings

Hello my dears!  As you should already know, I have arrived in Ghana and am safe and sound.  I'm not sure what the format of this blog will be, but I am just going to let it evolve as the time goes.  Right now, I just have a lot of info dumping to do, so I will do just that.  I intended to write many times this past week, but things have been crazy and filled with travel and meeting many many new people.  Ergo, friends, this will be a very long and rambly post.  I also tried to take a few photos to include in this post, but my iphone refuses to play nice with my PC.  So this is my warning for a long and potentially boring post!

A lot has happened this past week and my emotional journey has been up and down already.  I don't want to overwhelm this post with all the details as it feels like this past week was much longer than seven days.  This past month of preparation has been equally a part of the journey as my time here will be.  I said so many goodbyes, quit my first job, moved out of my cozy apartment, and prepared to step out of my comfort zone for a year.  The journey from DC, our nation's capital, to Accra, Ghana's capital, was long and rough.  The time differences made it difficult to adjust and I was a zombie the whole way there.  By the time I arrived I was exhausted and disoriented, but the lovely staff of Horizons Children's Centre hooked me up with a friend Gabby, a wonderful Ghanaian gentleman who is a principal at a local school, who picked me up at the airport and brought me back to my hotel.  Once I settled into my room, everything hit me.  It was as if I could see the wave of anxiety coming towards me without an escape.  I started panicking as I was realizing what I had committed to and where I was.  It was like waking up from sleepwalking and finding yourself somewhere totally unexpected.  I won't lie my friends, it was tough.  All these months of preparation and emotional readying seemed like empty gestures holding little meaning once I was actually away.  Going to sleep-away camp since I was little, I never experienced even the smallest bit of home sickness.  Going to university, I would spend months without speaking to my family and I would be fine.  But on this night, I payed back all the moments of missing I missed.  Tears were streaming down my face, but through them all I knew this commitment was not a mistake.  I knew this journey was mine to take and this was just an important part of it.  I talked a bit with some loved ones, took some sleeping pills, and drifted off.

The next day I was connected with a volunteer who was finished with her time and was heading back home at the end of the week.  She had spent the past five months in Sandema, the town I am living in, and was enthusiastic to tell me about this lovely place she had fallen in love with.  Her name is BB, and she brought me back to life.  We spent the next few days running errands, getting our hurrs did, eating some tasty local food, and sharing many laughs.  This girl is a gem.  She has an amazing spirit with an open heart, and at the end of our time, we were so sad to part ways.  It truly felt like we had known each other for years.  I'm scheming to get her back to Sandema so we can be a dynamic duo force of awesome here :)  We met up with a couple of the boys from the centre who were going to make the trip up with me and we also got along instantly.  Christopher is finishing his last year in senior high, and Jacob is starting his first year in senior high, and both of them are hilarious.  The last day that we were all together before we had to say goodbye to BB, we had so much fun even though BB was battling malaria.  Oh malaria, I'd be cool if we didn't become acquainted anytime soon.  On Friday, we said our goodbyes to BB then hopped on the bus to travel north for the next 15 or so hours.  The bus ride was long, but again, this is where I praised God for sleeping pills.  I definitely "freed myself" in some interesting places on the way...but, T.I.A. (This is Africa). 

Finally, I ARRIVED IN SANDEMA!  At about 4:30 am on Saturday, we pulled into town where Joe, the centre's local director, met us and took us back to my house.  I settled in a bit and slept some more.  I quite like my house!  It's humble and could use a bit of love, but it's cozy and has some wonderful energy (I suspect from amazing past volunteers).  It's got everything I need and is a bit like living in a country cabin/cottage.  Things are breaking down, but it's homey.

On Sunday night, I had my introduction to all the boys at the centre!  They greeted me with open arms and sang me a welcome song and strutted there stuff with some dance moves (they also made me dance...I was not quite ready for that!).  The smiles, the joy, the family vibes made me feel a bit like Wendy and the Lost Boys (from Peter Pan)!  They cheered as they heard I was staying for a year and they all came by to shake my hand one by one.  It was really lovely.

Today Joe and I went to the market and met some other important people in town.  The power's been out for the past 17 hours or so, so it's making it difficult to do too much.  I'm really excited to get started with whatever projects I will be doing this year, but it's hard to imagine what all of that will be like.  Trying to take in a year of many unknowns is hard to digest.  I am feeling pretty good about everything, but I'm still very much adjusting.  I'm getting used to drinking water from bags (rather than bottles), dusting bugs from my bed, and constantly sweating!  The one thing that I am still learning to get used to is the sitting.  What do I mean by that?  I mean just that.  People sit together a lot here and a lot of times without saying a word.  Someone might come over and sit for hours.  Or you might go somewhere and sit some more.  At first I felt really awkward with the dead space, and even antsy, but I am hoping I will be able to let go of my Western tendency to do, distract, entertain, and just sit.

I have a billion more reflections, and I'm sure I will post them as I feel ready to unpack them, but feel free to ask me questions and I'll enjoy answering them!  Thank you for supporting me, loving me, contacting me, and being interested.  I miss so much about home already, and I miss all of you something fierce.  Keep missing me too ;)

Love from Sandema,
Tippy (They all call me that here too!  Tiffany was too difficult and I kept getting Stephanie or Steppadie...so I settled on my family nick name :))