A week before I left for Ghana my mother came to Oregon to pay me a visit and help me prepare for my trip.

She wrote (and rewrote) list after list of what to buy, how much to take, and how best to pack it. She made sure I had a cure for every ailment (for instance, I have not one, not two, but three different forms of stomach medicines – just in case), and showed me how to make a bulky supply of duct tape more suitcase friendly (simply unroll, then re-roll onto the crushed cardboard tube from a roll of toilet paper). My mother is sort of a pro when it comes to packing.

But while she was certain she could help me get everything I needed for six weeks in Ghana into two suitcases at fifty pounds or less, I knew she was still very worried about what would happen when those suitcases and her baby reached their destination halfway around the world. For some parents Africa is kind of a four letter word – at least when the child of said parents has decided she must go there.

What gave my mother some comfort was meeting Catherine Ryan Gregory. After a quick breakfast where the three of us discussed what kinds of gifts to take for coworkers (again mom had some winning ideas) and what was left to pack, my mother seemed finally at ease. “Now that I’ve met Catherine I know everything will be OK,” she said.

Realizing that I would have a live-in support system, my mother was finally convinced I was not throwing caution to the wind and heading off all alone into the wilds of Africa. When I reminded her I would have not just one but 14 live-in buddies her ease increased.

To be honest I didn’t know how accurate that statement was. Fourteen additional “buddies”? Would we really all get along? But if it calmed my mother I was more than happy to pretend.

At the time, I assumed that most of my bonding would happen in the room shared by myself, Catherine, and Caroline (the other grad students). And that part has been true – nights spent in, just us three, while the rest of the group takes off on spirited evening adventures have been a blessing, and I feel closer to these two members of my cohort than ever. But I’ve also come to truly care for and rely on the younger members of our clan.

They’ve been helpful, insightful, eager to share (food, trotro routes, internet modems – OK, sometimes they’re stingy with the internet modems) and ever so caring. We’ve watched out for them, and they’ve returned the favor.

It seems we’ve all started to grow into an adorable, messy, happy little obruni family. And after the long days that, inevitably, seem to be filled with some good stuff, some bad stuff, and some strange in betweens, they’re great to come home to.

No night has this been more true than on the 6th of July. My 27th birthday.

It started out as a pretty average day. I woke up at 5:30 am to the sounds of the delightful little bird who tries to upstage the rooster (I really just looovvveee him), took a really cold shower, opened my computer to find that ants had decided to take nest under my keyboard and were now running rampant as I typed a quick email, and set off for a chaotic ride to work. The rest of the day went pretty well, but as I was dehydrated and tired all I really wanted was a birthday nap.

On returning home I was met with continuous birthday greetings – with each click of the front door a new happy day wish was sent my way. We decided we would make the effort (tired as we were) and walk all the way across the road to the Adasa Hotel for a birthday beer. Knowing how exhausted the group was, I appreciated their insistence on celebrating my 27th year even more.

Then, just as we were about to head out, someone hit the lights and the singing began. There was a cake (three small cakes in heart shapes with Nutella frosting to be exact!) candles, and a wonderful rendition of “Happy Birthday To You”. I’m pretty sure I actually squealed with delight!

Surprising someone with a cake on her birthday is a wonderful thing. Surprising someone with a cake on her birthday in Ghana, where it takes a lot of extra effort to buy supplies, and baking creates a lot of extra heat in an already hot kitchen, is sort of the best thing ever.

So, after an unnecessarily long post, let me say medaase to all of my Ghana housemates for making my 27th July 6th a very memorable day!

(And a little extra thanks to Catherine Ryan Gregory for playing Betty Crocker, and for putting my mom enough at ease that she didn’t burn or bury my passport to keep me from leaving!)