Moving on...

Let me start out by saying after 4 weeks of literally constant illness, I am recovered (hopefully.)
So Lisette and I left the clinic for good on Saturday. It was very sad, and I didn't realize how attached I was to everything there. Saying goodbye to Samuel, the Captain and Mary was really tough. Especially because here it isn't appropriate to really show emotion, so I had to"keep my cool" which we all know isn't my best trait.
Anyway, now I am in Accra, and I'm going to work at a practical training college for street girls, or street women considering the ages range from around 15-25. These are women who were either prostitutes, orphans etc...and at this school they learn things like hairdressing, sewing and cloth construction, cooking/baking, basic math, science and english so that hopefully, after they are finished, they can make money, take care of themselves, and lead a healthy lifestyle. They also provide access to birth control (whether it be oral, condoms etc...), HIV/AIDS education, and general counseling to the women. I am going to help with the batiking/tye-dye as well as cooking and basic instruction. I am also going to sit in on the birth control and HIV/AIDS discussions. I start work in a little under an hour, and I am really excited!
On a completely different note...
Lately the "being a volunteer" thing has been slightly eating away at my soul. Yesterday I was feeling slightly miserable and alone so I went to an upper class restaurant just to relax and get a good meal. So I spent around $10 on an enormous meal that left me probably 2 lbs heavier, but also happier. However, as soon as I left the restaurant I only had to walk 30 seconds to see extreme poverty. Then I just felt like throwing up.
Let me explain that, to most of you at home, I was surrounded by poverty where I was living, but in reality the town in which I lived had very little poverty. At first, you think the people walking around without shoes and torn clothes who are selling things in a little wooden shack by the side of the road is extreme poverty. In reality, those people are leading a relatively good life by African standards. They eat well and have the ability to work and earn a living, not a very large one, but nevertheless enough to sustain them and their families.
Extreme poverty, as I see it, is the people who have no home or family. Its those who have no hope of finding work. I almost feel better when people are begging for money, because in the worst cases, they have lost so much hope they are just waiting to die.
So what I'm getting at is the guilt that comes naturally to any human being that can afford to travel here for their own purposes. I came here as a volunteer in hopes of helping people etc...and I was under the impression that the feelings of guilt wouldn't be are strong, considering I was dedicating a half year of my life to improving the state of this country.
I guess whats important to remember that I could have given money to help relieve poverty, gone to NYU and started my life, but what I did, come here with the intention of helping in which ever way I could, was a much greater sacrifice.
I should get a move on so I'm not late for work.