chapter 1: getting ready to get ready

so here it is...1:13am in toronto, and i can't sleep. after a week of intercultural training, and hearing "does anyone have any questions" a thousand times (hell, yes); and, "what might the impicit message be here" (it could bloody well be anything), my subconscious is stuffed, my brain is empty, and i'm ready to throw the damn manual out and wing it.

but the questions come in waves, and i really don't have any answers.

aside from not using my left hand because it's apparently very insulting to ghanians, being eaten alive by all manner of nasty creepy crawlies, and becoming ill with some exotic sickness or other, i'm not sure of anything. in canada the only sure things are death and taxes. add to that the embarassing social gaffes of the short, foolish white man who's obviously ridiculously out of his depth, and those are the only things i'm sure of in an african context.

but despite all that, i'm ready. i've said my goodbyes, i've gleaned all the advice i could, and i've planned for every contingency i could think of.

i just hope i don't forget my passport.

come tuesday when i land in accra and step out into the african night, things will never be the same for me.