The day of deployment came faster than I could have imagined, like the blink of an eye. I still couldn’t confidently pronounce the name of my new community. It’s funny—being a Dagomba native, I found myself questioning whether the name was the same as the calabash we use to serve beloved TZ in Ghanaian homes or something else entirely.

Deployment day was a blur of excitement and nerves. I’d had a week to rest and prepare, but by October 3rd, I was scrambling to pack, laughing at my earlier assumption that I had all the time in the world. I remember leaving my bag, a coal pot, and a juice I’d planned to keep as a “comfort treat” for my moments of homesick panic on the bus we used for deployment. I had no grand expectations, just an open mind, though a part of me was disappointed to miss celebrating another birthday at home—for the fourth year in a row!

The past three weeks have been a whirlwind of resilience, adventure, and steep learning curves. Integration? It doesn’t happen unless you’re ready to step out, take risks, and earn people’s trust. I’ve visited farms so often I’ve lost count, mingled with children who quickly became my best sources of insider information, and gone house-to-house, squatting to greet people who sometimes leave me squatting for a while as I listen to their stories. Each day, more people in the community recognize me, and my name spreads from one neighbor to another.

But really, it’s the children who have brought the most laughter and insight. Just as we were advised during PST (Pre-Service Training), they were my first friends here and have been invaluable guides, sharing things I might have otherwise overlooked. This journey has only just begun, and it’s already testing and strengthening me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I’m discovering a whole new world, not just outside but within me.

Stay tuned for more on my adventures, and maybe even a story or two about farming, friendships, and the beauty of community life.