more photos from Ghana

Aren't they adorable in their Sunday best, with Bibles in hand?

I'm not saying that the thing I love MOST about Dayton is how he takes care of me. I'm just saying that fried plantains and fresh pineapple do NOT suck. And his cooking is getting good - he made greens with fish for me a few times, my favorite thing. And he takes the time to take the bones out of the fish, which is major bonus points.

These are the cute little peppers that get mashed and put in all the dishes. The first day he cooked they wouldn't let me do anything, but by the next day I was strong enough to hold my own - so I got to clean the rice. Picking stones and bugs and such from the rice. After about an hour of Virgo-apex cleaning, I set it on the table ... but without looking, so I set it on the edge and it tipped over onto the ground.

They could have treated me like the idiot I am at that point, but they didn't - they're so darn gracious. CeCe started scooping it up and then Dayton washed it thoroughly. Neither showed any sign of frustration at the idiot white woman taking over their living space.

To redeem myself the next day, I insisted I mash the peppers. I'd done it before when living at the guesthouse, when Isaac taught me how to cook. But, apparently my technique leaves something to be desired, and I got a little testy when Dayton tried to show me how to do it. I did it MY way and it turned out fine. That, and when I did the dishes, couldn't get Dayton to stop chuckling. He couldn't explain why, but it was something about his expectations of me and what I actually do.


Dayton was startled here, so wearing his game face. He's different with me in private than he is in public. Not really different, but he tends to watch things and be quieter in public, and he wears a ferocious scowl that Jenny would call game face.

This is the picture that provoked Mark (in Senegal) to say, "My, he's quite pretty."

Pretty? Not the adjective I would use.

I also finally realized who he reminds me of - an uncle of mine. I don't always agree with this uncle politically (and Dayton and I agree politically on almost everything), but I have never doubted his integrity in all things - he is, I realize now, the standard I set for all men. A standard none have met until now.

The thing that made me realize their similarity was when Dayton did a little dance in the house that set CeCe and me into gigglemania. Dayton seriously can't dance, which makes him probably the only African in that category. Gillian told me before she left camp last year, when we were all out drinking and dancing together, how much she loves that all African men can dance. I remember thinking she must not have been watching him. Oh, he shuffles fine - he doesn't lack a sense of rhythm completely. But I did have to tell him that it's a good thing that CeCe can dance (she's really, really good) and I can sing ok, because otherwise our family would have no talent at all. (By the way, I asked CeCe what musical instrument she would like to learn to play, and she said piano - which fits right into my vision of what things would be like for them here.)

Anyway, the thing about the little laugh-provoking dance move was that it was this unexpected silly thing. Dayton, like my uncle, is usually a pretty serious man. Oh we laugh and play around and all that, but they're earnest guys who work hard and do the right thing. So once when I was about 12 and we were in Denver, my uncle sat in the van in the parking lot waiting for us, and as we approached he picked up a guitar and started some silly off-key tune that humiliated me in public but was really, really funny.

My uncle was in Vietnam, in combat, and still gets startled by firecrackers and still has nightmares. He of all people in my family has reason for being a little whacky - but he is the sanest member on that side, bar none. He's the most stable, the hardest-working, the one who can always be counted on to do the right thing.

And I finally found a man for me who reaches that standard ... and isn't too proud to shake his booty to make us laugh.