Rest in Peace, Lordson

As you may have read in Hallie's last post, recently someone close to us suddenly passed away. His name was Lordson Egloh. He and I were coteaching form 2 math at Atakora as well as attending Peace Corps trainings and workshops together. His death shocked everyone in the community since he was only 26 years old and visibly healthy. I was present when he collapsed and later died. Here is my account of what happened:

On Valentine's Day evening 2011, during a break in our volleyball match, I heard someone call “Ambulance!” I looked across the court to a crowd around him laying on the ground. Rushing over to see what was happening, I looked down at him visibly in pain. “Is he having a seizure? an asthma attack? I never knew he was epileptic or asthmatic. That is probably what's going on here. I've seen a friend recover from a seizure. It looked like this to start. He'll probably be fine. It may be just a matter of minutes before whatever attack he's experiencing leaves him and he is sitting on the sideline drinking water.” I froze. I let others try what they can to snap him out of it. They splashed him with water, tapped his chest, planned to rush him to the hospital in town on the back of a motorcycle, before finally one player picked him up and ran the 100 meters to the roadside. A car was flagged down and, aware of how my perception of time was altered, I'll nondescriptly say minutes had passed since he collapsed before he was in intensive care. I trailed behind by bicycle. I thought it best to show my support at the hospital. Regardless of my being there, he'd make his recovery and I'd visit him at his house tomorrow. The last thing I expected was to hear a student say “He's dead.” “Are you asking me or telling me?,” I said. He was sure of it. Had the doctors not tried?

The cutoff for a passing percentage on a graded work in Ghanaian schools, at least up through high school is 35%. Does the same standard apply in the medical schools that trained the doctors that treated him? Did they complete a thorough curriculum incorporating practical learning and were they not responsible for at least a majority of knowledge and practices they were taught? Would they have saved the majority of people that entered that hospital under the circumstances that Lordson did? Or 35%? I'm told he died before entering the hospital. Would he still be alive if we/I acted more quickly? Living in a different culture, I've adopted a greater tendency towards inaction. In a lot of scenarios, as a foreigner, I simply do not know the expected behavior. Did this tendency bleed into a situation where a human life was a risk? These are the thoughts that wouldn't leave my mind in the following days.

Add to the list of those shocked and dismayed: the students of Atakora school, the teachers some very close friends and coworkers of three years, Lordson's grandparents who have already lost several children, and Lordson's newly pregnant fiance. In the weeks following we teachers and students came to school but classes were not in session. We welcomed many visitors from the community who came to offer their condolences. Some teachers and the majority of the students spent those days marching around the school chanting and making noise in Lordson's honor. On the day after, we played a volleyball game on the very court where he collapsed. Grieving was done head-on. Although most Ghanaians associated with the school consider themselves Christian, they would still agree that witchcraft and juju exert a real impact on earthly happenings. Part of the reason, we were chanting and making noise, I believe, was to ward off any bad spirits. Lordson's guardians-his grandparents-and his wife live in a different region of the country than Lordson did. A few days after his death, they visited Donkorkrom. Hallie, another friend, and I stopped by where they were staying. Something his grandfather told me during our short visit was that he is “sure that somebody did this to him.” Traditional African beliefs are more residual in the elderly; he's talking about juju. A week or so after, the teachers gathered at the school for a vigil conducted by a pair of devout men. That night the men were able to 'identify' the specific avenue a force of witchcraft has taken.

We are preparing to travel to Lordson's hometown this Friday for the funeral. Like me, you may have been surprised to learn in the culture section of you Intro Spanish class that the death of loved ones in not cause for mourning alone. I'm thinking El Dia de los Muertos. I've yet to attend a funeral in Ghana but I've heard the tone of the event probably has more in common with our(US citizens) American counterparts to the south. During a cross-cultural aspect of pre-service training, a trainer was sensitizing us to the type of humor we could encounter in Ghana in reference to death. By his advice, I shouldn't be surprised to overhear someone poking fun at a friend of Lordson's with “What's the matter? You couldn't feed him?” Death is viewed in Ghanaian culture different than I'm accustomed. Our headmistress addressed us teachers the other day with the issue of how much money we will contribute to Lordson's family. During the discussion I brought up that I've yet to attend a Ghanaian funeral. Her response was “Yɛbo nsa” meaning “We drink liquor.” Apparently donations to the family and memorializing imbibition are custom at Ghanaian funerals. Before leaving Chicago, Hallie and I saw a documentary, Glorious Exit, about a Nigerian funeral that would offer a good visual of something similar to what we're in for. Although, I intend to post pictures/videos of the event afterwards.

Lordson had aspiration and intention. He would go over his life plan as if half revising, half fantasizing. While a teacher at Atakora he was enrolled in a long-distance courses leading to a diploma. He dreamed about finishing his degree right about the same time his wife, living apart from him, would finish nursing school. He would transfer to a high school in the same town as his wife. He would teach agriculture and she would become a nurse. The sacrifices he was making as an investment for his future added up to an undetectable strain on his life. Perhaps he was prone to serious health problems for years and some preventative health care such as a routine physical could have saved his life. It's a shame that he's gone. I hope it's all uphill from here for his friends and family.

Above, Lordson is next to me.

(May 13, 2011) Here's a video I took from Lordson's funeral. I think the moment highlights some cultural differences from the viewpoint of someone outside Ghana. The video is a short clip from the viewing during which his body was positioned to appear as if he is seated upright writing in a book, an activity teachers often do. Various women are loudly lamenting his death. I remember my grandparents' viewing being much more somber events.