Twenty ten

Was one for the time,

As I have moved to Ghana

Where I don’t make a dime.

I left my friends,

Family and my world

To live in a place

Where my daily living is a chore.

No running water

And a bucket to bath from

Everyday is an adventure

That is as different as they come.

The goats and the chickens

Run wild a free,

And the small children like to pee

Wherever they please.

The locals are proud

Of their few Ghanaian dishes,

That they eat with their hands

And from the same dishes.

Clothing is washed

With nothing but the hand

And water is fetched

By carrying it over land.

The babies are carried

On their mother’s backs

And the children run around

Wearing anything but slacks.

Public transportation

Is anything but comfortable,

As I pray to the lord

That the tro tro won’t take a tumble

Farming as it is

Maize, rice and coco

Happens to be

How the locals make money o.

The weather is hot

The sun likes to shine

But sometimes it rains

Cooling this new land of mine.

But I’m just living the dream

Of being a PCV

In hopes of doing something good

But I’ll guess we’ll see.

Twenty eleven

Will be one for the time,

As I will still be in Ghana

Where nothing else rhymes.