The SOS School Sponsored Walk

This past Saturday morning, the kids’ school held a sponsored walk/fund raiser in celebration of the school’s 30th anniversary. Over the past month of so, we’ve been systematically hounded in turn by each child to have the sponsor card filled out. The promise and lure of great big prizes to the kid who brought in the most sponsors was no doubt the reason behind it. Either that, or their fear (truly, more like scared-to-death abject terror) of “Heady” as the kids “fondly” call the headmaster, Mr. Yemoah (behind his back, of course).

But their protestations and begging fell on very deaf (and somewhat poor) ears, so we ignored them until almost the very last minute. Then we quickly added a couple of names to the card just to look like we tried. Of course, we added ourselves in first position for a donation of GHC 10 each. My friend Leslie agreed to sponsor GHC 5 for each, and our other friends, Herbie and Eric, and Sly’s brother Julius agreed (though they didn’t know it yet) to sponsor the kids for GHC 2 each.

Well, that was the original plan. Unfortunately, besides our “donation” we were required to purchase specially made tee shirts and hats for each of the kids, for an additional GHC 9.50 each. Grand total for all 3 kids GHC 57.50. Money being a bit on the tight side, we told the kids to forget the new 30th anniversary tee shirts, and wear their other SOS tee shirts. “No,” they all cried, “it’s compulsory.” Headyphobia.

New plan: Scratch out donation of GHC 10 and bring that down to GHC 2, then we can afford the tee shirts and hats. Hmmm. Now we look like schlemiels, because here these are our kids and someone else is donating more money. I don’t think so. Scratch Leslie and change her to GHC 2 each. She’ll thank me for it, I’m sure.

There. That’s better. Now every kid has the nice round figure of a GHC 10 donation and they can buy the tee shirt and hat. Believe it or not, all of the kids are happy about this plan. Go figure.

So 6:30 a.m. comes for the morning of the walk, and I hustle the kids out the door. Sly opts to stay home, despite all of my pleading. Sean is dressed in his “cool” attire meaning new SOS tee shirt and big black canvas pants worn as Otto Pfisterish as I’ll allow (i.e. below his butt, gangsta style), Mike wears his tee shirt with khaki shorts and Alex wears her tee with a pair of jeans – high water jeans, I’d like to point out (this kid is growing like a weed) that she refused to change – even though I told her it would be hot. Another example of Headyphobia – he (or should it be He?) told them all to wear the tees and jeans.

I don’t have a sponsored walk tee shirt and Mike and Alex both warn me that I’m not going to be allowed to walk. Puhleeeze. I’m not afraid of Heady. Okay, I’m not that afraid of Heady. But there is no way I’m not going, because someone has to be with Alex for entire walk.

Now, our “paper” said the walk was going to be between the school and the Evergreen Supermarket in Community 4. That’s not too bad. That’s really just a hop, skip and a jump, probably only about a mile. I’ve walked that before. And I’ve got my Keds on, so it won’t be too bad. I notice a lot of the other mommy have the same sneakers I’ve got, too. Good, I don’t look like too much of a doofus, then.

At 7:00 a.m. we’re all off on the walk. I’m not really good at guessing numbers, but I’m thinking there are at least 300 kids, teachers and parents. At the front of the “parade” is a flatbed truck from a local radio station which is very loudly playing music. Unfortunately, they’re moving at a snail’s pace and it’s not long before my long legs have carried us from the back of the line to the front of the line. I’m a Jersey girl; we walk fast in Jersey – there’s purpose, not meandering. I’ve got to shorten my stride and even shuffle along, just to stay within the pack.

Then something happens; the hop, skip and a jump walk I was expecting doesn’t materialize. This becomes evident when we all turn off the main road. I want to yell, “That way to Evergreen” and point straight ahead. But, okay, I’m game. As I said, I’ve got my Keds. Ahead of us is Heady, and he’s taking pictures of the walkers. He sees me and Alex and comes to shake my hand, then he bends down and asks Alex, “Where’s your daddy? Is he home sleeping?” Heady and Daddy went to high school together. "Something like that," I tell him and he laughs out loud. That is a first, by the way. Maybe even ever.

Staying at the rear of the pack becomes the norm after only a few minutes. Alex has not only got shorter legs than I do, but she’s incapacitated by a crazily fluctuating blood sugar. About ¾ of a mile into the walk, she’s thirsty. That’s diabetes-speak for my blood sugar is going low. So I hand her a small pineapple juice and a glucose tab. She’s back to normal now. Except she’s got a major league wedgy that needs to be fixed. So, we jump over the gutter and she goes a few steps into the brush to try to ease it out. She’s not hiding the fact that she’s picking her butt crack, but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.

That holds her for about another ½ mile, and then she starts pooping out again so I give her another glucose tab. There’s a lady up ahead selling ice cream cones, and I hand Alex 20 pesawas so she buys two little ones and gobbles them down. That doesn’t seem to do anything at all, so I hand over the glucose gel that Alex has been craving now for a couple of months and she takes a hit.

She’s still kind of on the shaky side, so I check her sugar. She’s 3.6; she’s supposed to be at least 4.0. Oy, I don’t want to think what it was before the glucose gel and the tab she just ate. I’m pretty sure that the other stuff I just loaded her up with is going to boost her sugar level pretty soon, but just in case, I buy her another ice cream cone for 50 pesawas. Alex is loving this.

Ahead of us is the SOS bus, and its picking up kids that are too pooped to continue. Alex is dying (figuratively, I think at this point) to get on it, but we’re sooo far back, there’s no way we can catch up to it (even if it is crawling at something like 3 miles per hour). So we keep trudging on (so much for my thinking this was a mile long walk) and we buy some crackers and bottled water for me.

We’re passing by a small shop that’s got a table in front of it, and the table is surrounded by about half a dozen of the SOS mothers who are pawing over something. I’m curious to see what’s being sold. Is it wax print cloth? Purses? Costume jewelry? Nope, none of the above. They’re selling chaliwotay, a.k.a. flip flops. I’m quietly chuckling to myself as I pass, but inwardly thinking, crap, I wish I’d worn mine ‘cause my beloved Keds are giving me a pair of twin blisters on the backs of my ankles.

Now, at this point, I think we’ve walked about 3 miles. I’m not that good a judge of distance, but I know we’re walking for well over an hour, even with all of our stops and starts. Alex now informs me she’s got to wee wee. Well, it’s not like there’s a McDonald’s or a Starbucks on every street corner so we’re out of luck in terms of finding a toilet. But there are trees and gutters and kiosks that we can duck behind, and that’s what we do. I knew the jeans ideas was a crappy one; a skirt would have been so much more practical. Anyway, she does what she’s got to do and I do my best to clean her hands that got dirty from steadying herself in the dirt (I know, EWWWW!) and we’re off again.

We’re getting close to Evergreen Supermarket. We’re at least in the same neighborhood. The bus is still in sight, but definitely not catchable (by us, anyway). I’m tempted to flag down a taxi especially since every single taxi driver in Tema has honked at me as it passed by… they just can’t resist an obroni, even one who is obviously walking in a sponsored walk.

We’re now only a few hundred yards from the supermarket and the bus is close enough that with a little effort we could get on it. Here’s the dilemma: Alex needs to change her pants, she’s very cranky from being tired and I’ve got to wee wee myself. Trees and gutters hold no appeal for me, and trust me on this -- no one wants to see my big fat white butt for any reason. I really don’t want to get on the bus.

That’s when Alex spots Michael riding on the bus. He’s halfway back in, sitting in a window seat, waving to us. Alex starts to cry. Mike, who was wearing a great big shit-eating nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah grin only seconds before, is clearly dismayed by the sight of Alex all teary. But certainly not enough for him to give up that cushy seat, and off he goes.

The allure of Evergreen is that they’ve got good soda choices, so we go in and buy a Fanta cream soda. When we get back out, we’re the last of the SOS people in the bunch, so we just hop in a taxi and head home. I alert Sly to expect us and ask the driver to wait. Within 5 minutes we’ve changed, washed up, emptied bladders, done what we need to do and off we go back to the school.

We beat the school bus. Michael will forever be chastised for riding that bus. Obolobo (Ghana-ese for chubby) Michael, who could probably stand to lose a couple of pounds, tells us that his legs were cramping up. Meanwhile, his younger diabetic sister and his old fart mom managed to walk all the way to Evergreen.

The next time there’s a sponsored walk, I’m gonna pull a Sly. He was the smart one.