singing in the rainforest

we departed the coconut grove hotel this morning and were beach bound. this was not your typical beach outing, save for the sunscreen (that's for you jto. i will return from africa as pale as when i arrived). a local homestead in a nearby fisherman's village comprised our first stop. as we stepped off our bus, we were greeted by the shrill echos of bouncing laughter as small children stampeded toward us. numbering about 20, tapping, poking, smiling, giggling, hugging and chattering, their presence was completely overwhelming. the children, some clothed in little more than undershorts or a tattered dress, were close afoot as the owner provided a tour of his family's residence and accompanying place of business.

our guide translated as this mild-mannered gentleman, dressed in orange coveralls, explained that his trade is carpentry, while his wife runs the fish "preservation" business. in what you might typically identify as a shack, with red clay brick walls and a straw thatched roof, his wife and women who operate the business smoke hundreds of fish at a time stacked 12 palettes tall above four-sided wood-burning ovens that reside on a mud floor. this process takes many hours but serves as a means to preserve the fish for 6-12 months. our guide explained that, once smoked and preserved, the fish are sold not for eating but for the purpose of seasoning other dishes.

outside the residence, we encountered a group of fishermen tugging on a rope that reached far out into the ocean. digging their heels in the sand, they pulled with all of their might and it was difficult to tell who was winning, the men or the sea. once our guide explained that it is common for this exercise to exceed 2-3 hours in length, our group (numbering 24) stepped up to help. in coordinated heave-hoes, we pulled that rope from the sea side by side with the fishermen. although we never saw the fish nets emerge from the water, for a moment in time it was amazing to recognize our work together toward a common purpose.

as we bid our goodbyes and boarded our bus for departure, the children swarmed our group once again. extremely spirited but clearly lacking in anything beyond basic human needs, you could read the hope in their eyes for something more from us. we all reached deep into our backpacks and pulled out granola bars, decks of cards, tissue packs, soap, hotel shampoo bottles, fruit snacks, candy, t-shirts and handed them out to the group that was quickly growing more and more anxious with the passing of each snack pack. they leaped over one another, grabbing, yelling, and the littlest ones crying when they realized that they stood empty handed. that was the moment that i thanked god for all that i know and all that i have. it was absolutely heartbreaking to watch those faces as we pulled away from the village and a vignette that i will not soon forget.

at our next stop we found ourselves inside kakum national park. located just northwest of cape coast, this rain forest and preserve is known for its canopy walkway, a series of seven 8-inch-wide wood plank bridges that are suspended by ropes 40 meters above the forest floor and cover a length of 350 meters. we hiked a trail through the forest to the head of the canopy walk and stood for about 30 minutes in anxious anticipation of what was to come. as our queue reached a small clearing overhead, the rain began to fall. and for a brief moment, i stood in the rain in the rain forest in africa. beautiful.

stepping out onto the first bridge was a complete and terrifying rush. the bridges, slippery from the rain, hovered just above the forest's first level of treetops that formed a "canopy" above the rain forest floor. step by step the walk became easier and more fluid. as each of the students on our trip crossed the final threshold, they sang rounds of the IU fight song in celebration of their classmates' accomplishments.