With my graduate education coming to a close, I am looking forward to my next international trip, this time to East Africa. IDCE has partnered with UHAI for Health, Inc. to participate in a medical field project in Kenya. The team includes several people from UHAI for Health, medical personnel from UMass Medical, Professor Sarkis from IDCE, and myself.
The aim of the project is to conduct screenings for chronic diseases (blood pressure, diabetes, etc.), HIV/AIDS, reproductive health, postpartum care, cervical cancer, and to dispense medications and make referrals to local health clinics and hospitals. This is the 5th year UHAI has conducted this field project, but the first year with IDCE involvement and a component focused on HIV/AIDS and reproductive health. We (students) have also been encouraged to brainstorm about other projects we may want to initiate, like sex education.
Itinerary:
May 20, Depart Washington D.C. via Emirates (layover in New York and Dubai)
May 21 & 22, Arrive in Kenya & rest up from jet-lag
May 23, Thika Village
May 24, Ndeiya Village
May 25, Githunguri
May 26, Nyahururu Village
May 27, Nakuru Village
May 28, Nakuru National Park & Great Rift Valley
May 29, Nairobi National Park & the Bomas of Kenya
May 30, Giraffe Center, Karen Hospital tour, lunch at the Carnivore Restaraunt
May 31, Depart Nairobi via Emirates (layover in Dubai & New York)
June 1, Arrive in Washington D.C.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Saying Goodbye
We got up just after 5am, to be ready for the community gathering, though I expected the Gong-Gong man would go missing again. He did, and there was no gathering, so Anyo and the chief will have to express their need for library volunteers on their own. We had brown-brown for breakfast again, which is awesome because it’s my favorite. It was so early that we were able to pack the rest of our things, and spend what little time we had left with Michael, Akiti and Cicho. After a month of hanging out with the little ones, Cicho chose this morning to be the first morning he said anything in English: “Yea!” He exclaimed it when he jumped for the most part. It was really cute. He also decided that he would be lovey this morning—he kept gesturing for me to pick him up, and if I was sitting he would come over and climb into my lap. I threw him up in the air, which he adored, and he’d giggle and then ask me to do it again. Cicho and I played chase, and then Akiti wanted the attention. Samantha and Michael were busy trying to catch Samantha’s favorite goat for a photo op. It was a really nice morning, and the kids were dressed very nicely. Cicho had on a white polo shirt (how it was still white I have no idea) and Akiti was wearing a pretty silk dress with flowers on it. Her hair poof was standing tall. I’ll really miss those kids; I hope Mama gets a chance to bring them to the US. When it was time to gather our things, Kosi and Sema helped bring everything to the roadside. We waited a while longer there, at Peace’s storefront, while several people came by to bid us a safe journey—Samuel, the chief’s wife, Rafiki, Peace the hairdresser… and the resident Crazy. For the most part even at the storefront we were engrossed with Cicho and Akiti. Akiti wouldn’t let go of me. She’d stand in front of me, hugging my hands. I think I wasn’t as emotional this time around because I so hoped I would see them again, next time in the US. We didn’t see Kofi or Jessica to say goodbye, but Kosi hung out with us until we got on the bus. We waved goodbye, and Michael and Akiti were smiling their giant smile and waving back fervently. Mama didn’t want to accompany us to Ho because she didn’t want to say goodbye, so Emil and Sema went with us. They helped us into a tro-tro after going through a mob of tro-tro drivers grabbing our arms and trying to grab our bags to help us to their tro-tro. Finally we got to the one destined to take us to Accra. Defying the laws of physics, the driver managed to stuff all of our things into the back, and some under seats, and tied the trunk “shut” with a piece of green string. It didn’t look quite strong enough to hold it closed for the entire three hour ride we were about to embark upon… but then again, the laws of physics don’t seem to apply in Ghana. Sure enough, it held. We waved goodbye to Sema and Emil and began the second leg of our journey.
When we passed the immigration checkpoint, we had to wait for a really long time. Samantha and I went through just fine, but three other men were from Togo and didn’t have a passport. While they were interrogated, I occupied myself with the scene of the nearby vendor table. Women sat around it, selling cassava and plantains… and snails. BIG snails. At first I thought they were conch shells, but then I saw the snail heads sticking out and wiggling around. They were piled into three large bowls. I watched as three snails, one at a time, very slowly, attempt escape. They slowly moved from the bowls, dropped down the table below, slugged to the edge, and dropped again to a lower table. Fascinating. Finally, we were on the move again. I was starving, and feeling very claustrophobic in the middle of the very back seat of the tro-tro. If I wanted to get out, half the tro-tro would have to exit before I could move since the aisles had seats in them that folding down from the bench seat. I put my head down on the seat in front of me. Before long, Samantha was tapping my arm, a lot. I looked up to see the tro-tro had slowed. I leaned around to try to see what the commotion was about, and then I saw it—a GIANT baboon was crossing the road. Crouched, he was still taller than the cars. He walked on his knuckles and waddled his brown naked baboon butt behind him. Once he had crossed, he turned and looked in our direction with a big head, with huge poofy hairy cheeks. We saw a monkey!!! Yay!!!
The tro-tro dropped us at the side of the road, and I thought the driver gestured for us to cross the road to get a taxi to the airport. I looked doubtfully at him, hoping that’s not what he meant, since me carrying my belongings would be a disaster without a proper pack mule. Luckily, a taxi drove up and the transfer was relatively painless. Once at the airport, I managed to drag myself and my things very slowly to a waiting area. The air conditioning was a shock to the system that I wasn’t expecting, so I contemplated changing into a long skirt I had with me. What am I talking about, I had everything with me! But no, I had planned on bringing a change of clothes to change into in Frankfurt, as well as a bathing wipe and deodorant. Don’t want to smell like a tro-tro when I get home. Signing off until further reflections once I’m home safe and sound, bon voyage to me and Samantha!
When we passed the immigration checkpoint, we had to wait for a really long time. Samantha and I went through just fine, but three other men were from Togo and didn’t have a passport. While they were interrogated, I occupied myself with the scene of the nearby vendor table. Women sat around it, selling cassava and plantains… and snails. BIG snails. At first I thought they were conch shells, but then I saw the snail heads sticking out and wiggling around. They were piled into three large bowls. I watched as three snails, one at a time, very slowly, attempt escape. They slowly moved from the bowls, dropped down the table below, slugged to the edge, and dropped again to a lower table. Fascinating. Finally, we were on the move again. I was starving, and feeling very claustrophobic in the middle of the very back seat of the tro-tro. If I wanted to get out, half the tro-tro would have to exit before I could move since the aisles had seats in them that folding down from the bench seat. I put my head down on the seat in front of me. Before long, Samantha was tapping my arm, a lot. I looked up to see the tro-tro had slowed. I leaned around to try to see what the commotion was about, and then I saw it—a GIANT baboon was crossing the road. Crouched, he was still taller than the cars. He walked on his knuckles and waddled his brown naked baboon butt behind him. Once he had crossed, he turned and looked in our direction with a big head, with huge poofy hairy cheeks. We saw a monkey!!! Yay!!!
The tro-tro dropped us at the side of the road, and I thought the driver gestured for us to cross the road to get a taxi to the airport. I looked doubtfully at him, hoping that’s not what he meant, since me carrying my belongings would be a disaster without a proper pack mule. Luckily, a taxi drove up and the transfer was relatively painless. Once at the airport, I managed to drag myself and my things very slowly to a waiting area. The air conditioning was a shock to the system that I wasn’t expecting, so I contemplated changing into a long skirt I had with me. What am I talking about, I had everything with me! But no, I had planned on bringing a change of clothes to change into in Frankfurt, as well as a bathing wipe and deodorant. Don’t want to smell like a tro-tro when I get home. Signing off until further reflections once I’m home safe and sound, bon voyage to me and Samantha!
Friday, June 11, 2010
Last Day in the Village
We woke up expecting to attend the community gathering at 6:30am, summoned by a Gong-Gong man. However, since the chief couldn’t find the Gong-Gong man, the gathering didn’t happen. I assume this is because the chief doesn’t know how to pick up a mallet and hit a gong. After we had showered and had our brown-brown for breakfast, Emil came to inform us of the missing Gong-Gong man, which subsequently meant another attempt would be made the following morning. I was opposed to having to attend a meeting that would be entirely in Ewe at 6:30am, when we needed to be doing last minute packing and saying our goodbyes the next morning. Though I suggested we (Samantha and I) simply not attend the gathering, Emil decided it should be at 5 or 5:30am instead. *sigh* Mama later explained that our presence and our words (even if most people could only understand through the chief’s interpretation of what we said) would have more effect, more merit, than someone from the community saying the same thing. Mama explained that the community would take us more seriously, and therefore the topic to be discussed (volunteers to chaperone evening hours at the library) would have a better chance at success.
I spent the morning packing most of my things. When I’d finished all but what would be packed the following morning after our showers, I laid down for a short nap. I was restless though, and when I opened my eyes, Jessica was staring at me from the doorway again. She was content to spend a few hours coloring by herself, occasionally asking for a biscuit, which is a cracker; she pronounces it as “bis-quit”. I rested, and every now and then she would come into the bedroom and say, “Christine, medekookoo banana” or just “medokookoo,” and tapped her head, which I figured out meant she wanted to play with my hair. “Medekookoo” means “please.” It was a pretty quiet morning, and when Sema brought us French fries, plantain chips, and 2 cokes for lunch (wow!), we shared with Jessica.
Kofi joined us in the afternoon, though Kofi and Jessica started hitting and not sharing the crayons. Some random children came over too, and we started to lose our patience. Jessica felt she needed some attention, good or bad, and therefore decided to eat a crayon. She had little wax particles on her lips and she was spitting bright orange. We kicked them out, and Jessica and one of Emil’s sons about the same age parked themselves outside our bedroom window and began peeling off pieces of the screen and chewing on it. I had wondered what animal always seemed to destroy the screens in the village. I found out. Bright came over to practice typing on my laptop, and Kosi soon appeared as well to return the New Moon book I’d leant him. He said he really enjoyed the books so I told him that later tonight we could watch Twilight on my laptop.
Tonight was to be our last Anyo meeting. We arrived at Richard’s compound and visited for a short while with everyone. Richard read the comments I’d left in the guest book—most of which were instructive but firm… He asked me what else in the village disappointed me. I explained that my entry in the guest book was only firm because I cared so much about the village, and its people. I explained that the members of the community are fully capable of taking responsibility for their own happiness, and initiative for their own ideas, and that good ideas need constant supervision and effort to become successful projects. I also stated that a library that simply exists does no one any good; it must be used by the community if it will make any positive change for anyone. Emil informed me that the following morning at the community gathering would be a good place for me to “teach the community about why the library is good.” I asked him to tell me why he thought the library was good. He and Walter collectively came up with that it would “help the children learn and practice English.” I agreed, and also noted that it would be a good opportunity for parents to learn with their children by reading children’s books together. Later, Samantha and I discussed the situation that after Anyo decided they wanted a library more than nine years ago, and after it has been built and stocked with books, that they would need an explanation as to why a library should be used by the community.
After our brief Anyo meeting, we walked to the chief’s compound, where the chief and Anyo had prepared a “presentation.” We didn’t know what the presentation would be, and when we walked into the chief’s living room, it still wasn’t apparent. The room was painted a royal blue, and the blue hue from the light bulb in the ceiling made it glow like a seedy bar. There was a very powerful fan oscillating in the corner—the chief must have had the best fan because I could feel it very well from across the room. Next to the fan there sat an old television set, tuned to the opening of the France vs. Uruguay game of the World Cup. Samantha, Sema and I sat on one couch, the chief was to our right in an armchair. Hans, Emil and Walter sat on a couch to our left, flanked by Mama and someone representing the elders. He was in his elderly robe. A younger man that I didn’t recognize sat on the other side of the chief. They spoke for a long time in Ewe, it must have been twenty minutes. I started to think the “presentation” was watching the World Cup with the chief. I was rooting for France because in the opening anthems, Uruguay players looked like an army of blue robots, and France’s players had their arms around each other. I had nothing else to base my favoritism off of, so that would have to do. Plus, France has the Louvre. You could say France started to play dirty, but you could also say that Uruguay just fell down a lot and whined about it. After a while, my concentration on the game was interrupted when Emil started talking in English, which meant he was addressing me and Samantha. Mama and Sema took us into another room, where there was a second, smaller television set also programmed to the game. They had two nicely wrapped packages under their arms—presents! They presented us each with a fancy African dress (more like a robe with a fancy neckline), a headdress, and bracelets. They were absolutely beautiful. This inspired a photo frenzy when we returned to the room filled with men, and since we’re girls and we like our cameras, we took pictures with everyone while we were all dressed up.
After the impromptu photo shoot, we returned to our compound for dinner, rice with a piece of chicken. Bright and Kosi showed up, and I started Twilight on my laptop. The volume isn’t the greatest, so it was generally hard to hear, especially after it started pouring down rain on top of the tin roof. But the boys enjoyed it just the same. Half way through, Michael and Akiti came by and settled themselves to watch the movie with us—Michael was on the floor at my feet, and Akiti snuggled on my lap. After a little while they both started to nod off. Akiti’s small hand was gripped around my fingers, and the tiny poof of hair on top of her head was smushed against my chin. Mama came by to clean up dinner and asked if she could speak with me outside.
Samantha and I have told Mama on numerous occasions that we’d like her and the kids to come visit us in the United States. I also think that if she decided to live in the States, of all the people in the village, she and her children would be able to make it, not only because of their English skills but also their personalities. When she pulled me outside, she asked if I’d said anything to Sema about our plans for her to come to the US. I said no, and that I wasn’t planning to, mainly because for now it was just a nice idea. Mama was worried Sema would be envious of our invitation, though of course we would open up our homes to any of them who came to the US for a visit. Mama said she was calling a friend of hers to get information on Ghanaian passport fees for her and the children. I started to get really excited that she might actually come to the US! We exchanged contact information, and Samantha and I offered to do what we could to help with paperwork (as far as getting a tourist visa for the US… I’m not really sure how that works).
It was late by the time the movie ended, and our room was starting to look bare from all the packing we’d done. I started to think about what I’d like to do in the great US of A when we got back. Shower, have vegetables, sushi, tacos, see a movie… and go to the beach. This time tomorrow, we’ll be on a plane headed for Germany.
I spent the morning packing most of my things. When I’d finished all but what would be packed the following morning after our showers, I laid down for a short nap. I was restless though, and when I opened my eyes, Jessica was staring at me from the doorway again. She was content to spend a few hours coloring by herself, occasionally asking for a biscuit, which is a cracker; she pronounces it as “bis-quit”. I rested, and every now and then she would come into the bedroom and say, “Christine, medekookoo banana” or just “medokookoo,” and tapped her head, which I figured out meant she wanted to play with my hair. “Medekookoo” means “please.” It was a pretty quiet morning, and when Sema brought us French fries, plantain chips, and 2 cokes for lunch (wow!), we shared with Jessica.
Kofi joined us in the afternoon, though Kofi and Jessica started hitting and not sharing the crayons. Some random children came over too, and we started to lose our patience. Jessica felt she needed some attention, good or bad, and therefore decided to eat a crayon. She had little wax particles on her lips and she was spitting bright orange. We kicked them out, and Jessica and one of Emil’s sons about the same age parked themselves outside our bedroom window and began peeling off pieces of the screen and chewing on it. I had wondered what animal always seemed to destroy the screens in the village. I found out. Bright came over to practice typing on my laptop, and Kosi soon appeared as well to return the New Moon book I’d leant him. He said he really enjoyed the books so I told him that later tonight we could watch Twilight on my laptop.
Tonight was to be our last Anyo meeting. We arrived at Richard’s compound and visited for a short while with everyone. Richard read the comments I’d left in the guest book—most of which were instructive but firm… He asked me what else in the village disappointed me. I explained that my entry in the guest book was only firm because I cared so much about the village, and its people. I explained that the members of the community are fully capable of taking responsibility for their own happiness, and initiative for their own ideas, and that good ideas need constant supervision and effort to become successful projects. I also stated that a library that simply exists does no one any good; it must be used by the community if it will make any positive change for anyone. Emil informed me that the following morning at the community gathering would be a good place for me to “teach the community about why the library is good.” I asked him to tell me why he thought the library was good. He and Walter collectively came up with that it would “help the children learn and practice English.” I agreed, and also noted that it would be a good opportunity for parents to learn with their children by reading children’s books together. Later, Samantha and I discussed the situation that after Anyo decided they wanted a library more than nine years ago, and after it has been built and stocked with books, that they would need an explanation as to why a library should be used by the community.
After our brief Anyo meeting, we walked to the chief’s compound, where the chief and Anyo had prepared a “presentation.” We didn’t know what the presentation would be, and when we walked into the chief’s living room, it still wasn’t apparent. The room was painted a royal blue, and the blue hue from the light bulb in the ceiling made it glow like a seedy bar. There was a very powerful fan oscillating in the corner—the chief must have had the best fan because I could feel it very well from across the room. Next to the fan there sat an old television set, tuned to the opening of the France vs. Uruguay game of the World Cup. Samantha, Sema and I sat on one couch, the chief was to our right in an armchair. Hans, Emil and Walter sat on a couch to our left, flanked by Mama and someone representing the elders. He was in his elderly robe. A younger man that I didn’t recognize sat on the other side of the chief. They spoke for a long time in Ewe, it must have been twenty minutes. I started to think the “presentation” was watching the World Cup with the chief. I was rooting for France because in the opening anthems, Uruguay players looked like an army of blue robots, and France’s players had their arms around each other. I had nothing else to base my favoritism off of, so that would have to do. Plus, France has the Louvre. You could say France started to play dirty, but you could also say that Uruguay just fell down a lot and whined about it. After a while, my concentration on the game was interrupted when Emil started talking in English, which meant he was addressing me and Samantha. Mama and Sema took us into another room, where there was a second, smaller television set also programmed to the game. They had two nicely wrapped packages under their arms—presents! They presented us each with a fancy African dress (more like a robe with a fancy neckline), a headdress, and bracelets. They were absolutely beautiful. This inspired a photo frenzy when we returned to the room filled with men, and since we’re girls and we like our cameras, we took pictures with everyone while we were all dressed up.
After the impromptu photo shoot, we returned to our compound for dinner, rice with a piece of chicken. Bright and Kosi showed up, and I started Twilight on my laptop. The volume isn’t the greatest, so it was generally hard to hear, especially after it started pouring down rain on top of the tin roof. But the boys enjoyed it just the same. Half way through, Michael and Akiti came by and settled themselves to watch the movie with us—Michael was on the floor at my feet, and Akiti snuggled on my lap. After a little while they both started to nod off. Akiti’s small hand was gripped around my fingers, and the tiny poof of hair on top of her head was smushed against my chin. Mama came by to clean up dinner and asked if she could speak with me outside.
Samantha and I have told Mama on numerous occasions that we’d like her and the kids to come visit us in the United States. I also think that if she decided to live in the States, of all the people in the village, she and her children would be able to make it, not only because of their English skills but also their personalities. When she pulled me outside, she asked if I’d said anything to Sema about our plans for her to come to the US. I said no, and that I wasn’t planning to, mainly because for now it was just a nice idea. Mama was worried Sema would be envious of our invitation, though of course we would open up our homes to any of them who came to the US for a visit. Mama said she was calling a friend of hers to get information on Ghanaian passport fees for her and the children. I started to get really excited that she might actually come to the US! We exchanged contact information, and Samantha and I offered to do what we could to help with paperwork (as far as getting a tourist visa for the US… I’m not really sure how that works).
It was late by the time the movie ended, and our room was starting to look bare from all the packing we’d done. I started to think about what I’d like to do in the great US of A when we got back. Shower, have vegetables, sushi, tacos, see a movie… and go to the beach. This time tomorrow, we’ll be on a plane headed for Germany.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Coloring and Airplanes
Sema brought us ground nut soup for breakfast, also known as “brown-brown.” We ate the entire bowl, and a banana each. Today was pretty relaxing. After breakfast and our bucket bathing session, we got dressed, got ready for the day, braided our hair… and then took a nap. I slept for a long time, having crazy nap time dreams about sitting in the airport, and seeing random people. When I opened my eyes around 11:30am, Jessica was staring at me. I really wasn’t that out of it—she was stealth like a ninja entering without making a single sound! I sat with her while she colored for a while. She wrote all of her numbers, which she’s gotten better at since we’ve been here. At first she would write the mirror images of numbers, but now she wrote them correctly except for the number nine. Samantha was reading in the other room, and I was glad to have one-on-one time with Jessica. She wasn’t in school because her mom couldn’t afford the lunch fee. Over the course of the afternoon, I gave Jessica 3 bananas and a bunch of crackers. I started drawing a little bit, two scenes from Oasis, one of which was the turtle sitting on our table. Then I channeled my inner child and replaced my pencil with an array of crayons. I drew a sun, a mango tree, and then Jessica, Michael, Akiti, Cicho, Kofi, Samantha and I all holding hands. Cheesy, I know, but it was cute. Jessica got a kick out of it. After that I instructed Jessica on the fine art of crafting paper airplanes, and the even finer skill of flying them. She would stand on the top of our front steps, and squeal as it went further and further. If it didn’t go as far as the one before, she would say, “no,” and shake her head and try again.
Mama and Cicho brought us lunch (boiled cassava with pasta in palm oil with onions). Cicho was wearing his usual red shirt that said “six” on it. He and Jessica chased and played. After Mama left, I was tired and asked Jessica if she wanted to go home for a little bit and come back later. She looked as if someone had just murdered her puppy. It was wrong of me anyway to ask that; I should appreciate what little time I have had with her, and what little time is left. I sat with her outside for a while, and soon Kofi appeared with Fafali in tow, both wanting in on the paper airplane action that Jessica was showing off. It was a fun afternoon. All in all, Jessica was with us for 6 hours.
After Kofi began monopolizing the paper airplanes, Jessica started petting my head and my French braid. I asked her if she wanted to play with my hair and she smiled, “yes!” She went and found my brush (a step up from the flashlight she liked to use on my hair the last time I was here) and began concocting some hairstyle that more and more started to resemble what hair might look like after an electrocution. She was enjoying herself though, and if she pulled too hard, her little raspy voice would say “sorry, sorry sister Christine.” Three upper primary girls came by to say hello and took interest. They separated parts of my hair, two of them braided, and Jessica played. Michael appeared and started coloring with Kofi. It was a party! It was almost 5:30pm so I asked everyone to leave so we could visit the chief. I pulled out the hair ties, along with some of my hair that had been tangled among them, pulled back my hair, and Samantha and I walked with Emil over to the chief’s compound.
The meeting with the chief was relatively calm and uneventful. We discussed the logistics (sort of) behind getting volunteers for the library, which would include our presence at a community gathering the following morning… at 6:30am. We visited a short while, and then returned to our room to wait for dinner, which was jollof rice with 2 small pieces of chicken. I realized as I finished my piece of chicken that I was eating it more like a hungry monkey rather than my usual pickiness. After dinner, I grabbed my laptop and movies, and we headed over to Mama’s compound for a movie night with the kids.
Movie night was a blast. The kids had eaten and had their baths, so cuddling was flea-free! We sat in Mama’s living room area on fabric chairs in dark wooden frames. The cushions were covered in purple plastic. I placed the laptop of the coffee table and we gathered on the couch to experience Disney’s Tarzan. Cicho was asleep on the floor, Akiti was on my lap, and Michael was situated between Samantha and me. Michael would jump at the slightest thing meant to surprise or startle an audience. Akiti bobbed her head to all the background music. Mama joined us soon after the movie started, which added to the fun. She liked to ask questions about what was happening throughout the movie, something I probably do myself too often. After the movie, we visited for just a little while. I showed some pictures on my laptop that I had downloaded from my phone, including a picture of the White House in winter, and a picture of my Chicken a la CB dinner I invented (Sean helped a lot though and should be given much credit for the recipe). We talked about how long Mama would be living in the village (another year and a half she expects), and so I asked if after that she’ll be living in the US. We did talk about visiting though. The last time she checked, about five years ago, Ghanaian passport fees were about 11 cedis each. They can’t be much more than that now I would assume, but I know the airfare will trump any looming passport fee. I would love to have her and the kids come visit though, and preferably stay… I hate the thought of not seeing our favorites again.
Mama and Cicho brought us lunch (boiled cassava with pasta in palm oil with onions). Cicho was wearing his usual red shirt that said “six” on it. He and Jessica chased and played. After Mama left, I was tired and asked Jessica if she wanted to go home for a little bit and come back later. She looked as if someone had just murdered her puppy. It was wrong of me anyway to ask that; I should appreciate what little time I have had with her, and what little time is left. I sat with her outside for a while, and soon Kofi appeared with Fafali in tow, both wanting in on the paper airplane action that Jessica was showing off. It was a fun afternoon. All in all, Jessica was with us for 6 hours.
After Kofi began monopolizing the paper airplanes, Jessica started petting my head and my French braid. I asked her if she wanted to play with my hair and she smiled, “yes!” She went and found my brush (a step up from the flashlight she liked to use on my hair the last time I was here) and began concocting some hairstyle that more and more started to resemble what hair might look like after an electrocution. She was enjoying herself though, and if she pulled too hard, her little raspy voice would say “sorry, sorry sister Christine.” Three upper primary girls came by to say hello and took interest. They separated parts of my hair, two of them braided, and Jessica played. Michael appeared and started coloring with Kofi. It was a party! It was almost 5:30pm so I asked everyone to leave so we could visit the chief. I pulled out the hair ties, along with some of my hair that had been tangled among them, pulled back my hair, and Samantha and I walked with Emil over to the chief’s compound.
The meeting with the chief was relatively calm and uneventful. We discussed the logistics (sort of) behind getting volunteers for the library, which would include our presence at a community gathering the following morning… at 6:30am. We visited a short while, and then returned to our room to wait for dinner, which was jollof rice with 2 small pieces of chicken. I realized as I finished my piece of chicken that I was eating it more like a hungry monkey rather than my usual pickiness. After dinner, I grabbed my laptop and movies, and we headed over to Mama’s compound for a movie night with the kids.
Movie night was a blast. The kids had eaten and had their baths, so cuddling was flea-free! We sat in Mama’s living room area on fabric chairs in dark wooden frames. The cushions were covered in purple plastic. I placed the laptop of the coffee table and we gathered on the couch to experience Disney’s Tarzan. Cicho was asleep on the floor, Akiti was on my lap, and Michael was situated between Samantha and me. Michael would jump at the slightest thing meant to surprise or startle an audience. Akiti bobbed her head to all the background music. Mama joined us soon after the movie started, which added to the fun. She liked to ask questions about what was happening throughout the movie, something I probably do myself too often. After the movie, we visited for just a little while. I showed some pictures on my laptop that I had downloaded from my phone, including a picture of the White House in winter, and a picture of my Chicken a la CB dinner I invented (Sean helped a lot though and should be given much credit for the recipe). We talked about how long Mama would be living in the village (another year and a half she expects), and so I asked if after that she’ll be living in the US. We did talk about visiting though. The last time she checked, about five years ago, Ghanaian passport fees were about 11 cedis each. They can’t be much more than that now I would assume, but I know the airfare will trump any looming passport fee. I would love to have her and the kids come visit though, and preferably stay… I hate the thought of not seeing our favorites again.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Last Day in Ho + Ideas
We had ground nut soup for breakfast, which I liked, though I probably ate it too fast. Sema had boiled some water to put in our shower buckets so we actually got to bathe with warm water! We heard the bus’ horn as we left our compound, and jogged up the path to catch it before it left for the next village. On the way, we accidentally caught the attention of the resident crazy man. He got excited and ran over to us, blocking our way to the bus. He grabbed Samantha’s hand (she was in front of me) and when she passed him, he turned to me. I was not in the mood this morning to be polite. I tried to fake left and go around him, but he grabbed my chest which threw off my plan. I took his arm and threw it to the side. When we got on the bus at 7:50am, he stood in the doorway staring at me with his creepy smile. It made me shiver.
By 9am we had reached the village of Etodome… a mere 6 miles away from Saviefe. *sigh* I knew it was going to be a long ride. The agenda for Ho, considering our limited funds, was simply to use the internet and talk to Bismark, since he promised he would be in the office. I wasn’t really expecting him to be there, but I was still disgusted when we checked both at 10:15am, when we got to Ho, and at 12:15pm, when we left. As Samantha so eloquently noted, he has been as useful as two sprained ankles in a 5K race. Since we didn’t have enough money for lunch, we headed back to the bus stop and were early enough to catch the bus back to the village, saving us 40 peswas of our usual combined tro-tro fare. We were not early enough to get seats. All were taken, so we perched ourselves on the rear wheel well, something that, combined with the treacherous roads of the rural Volta Region, nearly broke our tail bones.
As the ride began, some woman was throwing an absolute fit because she either got on the wrong bus, or was charged extra because she wanted to get off somewhere unusual. The argument between her, the driver, the attendant, and the other passengers was for the most part in angry Ewe, though one old man did yell out, “This is not your personal car!”. The rest of the ride was quiet enough, though I was wondering if I’d be able to stand afterwards. Luckily, a few people got off and an old woman pointed me to an open seat. Samantha sat, and I on her lap, trying unsuccessfully to “think skinny,” since I knew the bumps in the road caused my entire weight to crush down on Samantha’s bladder… It’s lucky that we did grab that seat because it had started to rain pretty hard. One stop later, and 10 tiny children, maybe the age of 4, climbed aboard, soaking wet. They clambered about and sat on the floor, exactly where we had just been. They looked at us in awe. Resembling the baby sea turtles in Finding Nemo, 2 stops later they all squealed “Bus Stop!” in unison. It was cute. Finally another seat opened up and I snagged it. My back was killing me, as was my neck from tossing and turning all night. I was cranky and hungry and was ready to leave Ghana. I couldn’t deal with this bus any longer.
We got home and found a new bunch of bananas on the table—surprise! I ate one and some crackers. So did Samantha. Mmm lunch. Not two minutes after we’d arrived back home, did Michael come running up to say good afternoon. I swear he’s a spy, haha. Kofi came by too and colored for a little while. Soon it was time for our last JSS study session so we headed for the compound. It went well; there were some very eager and attentive students who enjoyed the activity. We picked out groups of short stories, had them read at their own pace, and then get into their groups to discuss and write a summary. Though most students cheat and write directly from the book for their summaries, they were reading, and they were enjoying it, which is what mattered most. I have to say, JSS students are so much better behaved than the Primary kids. They’re better for my health, I don’t feel like I have an ulcer when I leave the JSS students. It was raining, and Bright walked with us back toward our end of the village, talking about the reproductive health interview he’d participated in.
When we got back to the room we dried off and I realized I had to pee. I tried to be stealth with the rain, attempting to avoid more wetness as much as possible. It was a feeble attempt, as when I jogged to the outhouse, the door was wide open. I asked Kofi’s mom if anyone was using it, and the conversation lingered in the rain something like the following:
CB: Oh is someone using the toilet?
KM: No
CB: So I can go in?
KM: No
CB: Who’s using it?
KM: Kofi
CB: But… Kofi is right there… (standing pantless beside his mother)
KM: Yes
CB: So I can use it
KM: Yes
CB: So no one’s in there?
KM: Yes
CB: Ok so I’ll go in?
KM: No
CB: uh huh…
And then I just bolted for the door. As often as I seem to walk in on men pooping in the outhouse (for some reason it never occurs to anyone to shut either of the two doors to the outhouse or the stall inside…) I figured one more possibility wouldn’t matter.
It was raining still when 5:30pm rolled around. We were supposed to go to the Anyo meeting but I wondered how punctual everyone would be, or even if the meeting would be cancelled due to the rain. At 5:45pm we walked over to Richard’s. Only Richard was there, with a couple young guys who always hang around his place for shots of whiskey. I tend to forget that Richard acts as the village bartender. A few moments later, Hans appeared in the doorway, and I was tragically hopeful that the meeting would still happen. Soon, the rain picked up and poured down heavily. It was so loud under Richard’s tin roof; I had to raise my voice next to his ear to ask him about his eye. The swelling goes down slightly when he takes his pain medication, though the pain continues to agonize him at a fixed rate despite the efforts of Western medicine. He lifted his lid to show me his eye. It looks the same—red, swollen beyond belief, the pupil and coloring around it is almost an exaggerated blob of what used to represent his eye color. It looked as though the eye would explode at any moment. It took all my might not to wince in horror, even though I had seen it a few weeks before.
Two men rode up on their motorbike, soaked to the bone. They each took a shot of whiskey, greeted us, and then left. At first I mistook the revving of the motorbike’s engine as distant thunder. Emil arrived, and soon the other men who frequented Richard’s bar left. The rain had died down slightly, and I realized that there wasn’t going to be a meeting. Walter wasn’t there, and neither was Sema. So, I asked Emil if he would accompany us to visit the chief tomorrow to discuss volunteers to chaperone evening hours at the library, to which he agreed. I also explained that the library still needed benches for the students to sit on, and the lights needed to be fixed, since they would be incredibly necessary for evening operations to work. I also brought up an idea I had come up with earlier in the morning…
The focus group with Anyo was very successful, and noted malnutrition as a very significant health challenge in the rural areas. Because the diet is “one-sided,” since most people eat either banku or fu-fu everyday for every meal, essential vitamins from fruits and vegetables are severely absent. Originally, Anyo’s seed money from BRIDGE was to be used to start an income-generating farming project. Of course the idea of any project that could generate income is a great idea in theory, but as I’ve had some hard realizations about development throughout this trip, great ideas in practice are much harder to implement successfully. If Anyo did generate some income, there would be disagreements on who should spend the money, on what, how, and what for. This was exemplified in Richard’s objection to use some of an emergency medical fund for his own eye, when four others in the village also had eye problems. So what project could actually do some good?
A vegetable garden seemed like a good solution to me. It would be run by Anyo Group, and sell vegetables for very affordable prices, not for income or profit, but merely enough to keep the garden growing, to buy more seeds, fertilizer, top soil, etc. I don’t know exactly what vegetables would thrive here; if there were any other than cassava, I would have thought someone would have figured it out by now… but then again… maybe not. I drew pictures and described various vegetables—tomatoes, carrots, onions, beets, spinach, peas, green beans, and peppers. We made a list of possible try vegetable seeds to buy, as well as materials that would be needed. We decided that chicken wire mesh fencing would be needed, as well as wood for the fence frame and gate. Lord knows as soon as those vegetables start growing, the goats will be all over it. Emil, Hans, and Richard seemed very pleased and somewhat excited about the idea. They said they would definitely try it. I suggested that once the garden becomes successful, they could ask a few children at a time to help harvest the vegetables, or tend to the garden. It would present an ideal opportunity to teach the children about vegetables and nutrition. There’s an organization, a bank really, that has been introduced to the region since my last visit—the Agricultural Development Bank. I have mentioned it before in these posts, but as I understood it, it served to give loans to farmers, and could act as a savings account for farmers as well—a financial option not previously available to farmers with no collateral. Emil, Richard and I discussed the ADB, and I suggested they should contact their regional office to bring a resource person in to teach Anyo about how to farm these vegetables. If the project became very successful, Anyo could expand it with a loan from the ADB. Richard also suggested bringing in a resource person to teach members of the community about nutrition.
Though it wasn’t an official Anyo meeting, I thought the visit was very productive. I started to regain some of my original enthusiasm for small scale projects in the village. Richard asked me to write down my postal address, email, and phone number. I couldn’t quite remember the correct country code for dialing the US from Ghana, I knew it was either 001 or 011. Richard giggled as he dialed my number into his phone, similar to the way my friends and I did in elementary school when we were getting ready to prank call someone. He tested it first by itself, then with 011, and finally squealed with glee when 001+ my number connected him to my voicemail—something they don’t use here. I guess I’ll find out when I check my messages at home how long the call was connected, I’m sure I’ll be able to hear his squeals and giggles even though he held the phone away in surprise. It was like a child who prank calls someone, and when the person answers, the child forgets what to do, and tries to hand the phone off to someone else, laughing all the while. It was histerical.
Richard asked when we should have the final Anyo meeting before we head off, and I suggested Friday night. He handed me a familiar book, with “Guest Book,” written on the cover. I remembered Denise and I had written messages to Anyo at the end of our last visit, thanking them for the experiences and their friendship. I suddenly realized that this was the first of our last goodbyes. Though I miss home, and was fed up with how things had turned out in the village after my last visit, the people make it memorable and I’ll always have a place for them in my heart. Unfortunately, gatherings like tonight don’t happen often. Usually Mama is the one to socialize, occasionally Sema will accompany her. I will be sad to say goodbye to Anyo this time. I’m not sure if I’ll be back here again. I’d like to transport Richard and Mama and the kids back to the US though. When I left before, I was sad to say goodbye, but I think deep down I knew I would return. This time… I’m not so sure. I would like to say that I will, perhaps with more experience, more guidance to offer, more projects to start and actually get to oversee… but who knows? It’s hard to accomplish anything in less than 6 weeks. It takes a month usually to just get acclimated again, to the village, to the culture, to the people, and to understand their needs and challenges. I can’t imagine being in a place in my life again where I have the luxury of abandoning responsibility to come live here for any length of time. Though, the last time I said goodbye, Richard did say that whenever I got married, they would send someone from Anyo to attend. Maybe not that exactly but maybe if I get wealthy (unlikely considering my future in non profit work) I can bring Mama and her kids out for a visit. And then maybe they can stay and be my next door neighbors. And maybe Richard can come too and teach me how to sew. Life in dreams…
By 9am we had reached the village of Etodome… a mere 6 miles away from Saviefe. *sigh* I knew it was going to be a long ride. The agenda for Ho, considering our limited funds, was simply to use the internet and talk to Bismark, since he promised he would be in the office. I wasn’t really expecting him to be there, but I was still disgusted when we checked both at 10:15am, when we got to Ho, and at 12:15pm, when we left. As Samantha so eloquently noted, he has been as useful as two sprained ankles in a 5K race. Since we didn’t have enough money for lunch, we headed back to the bus stop and were early enough to catch the bus back to the village, saving us 40 peswas of our usual combined tro-tro fare. We were not early enough to get seats. All were taken, so we perched ourselves on the rear wheel well, something that, combined with the treacherous roads of the rural Volta Region, nearly broke our tail bones.
As the ride began, some woman was throwing an absolute fit because she either got on the wrong bus, or was charged extra because she wanted to get off somewhere unusual. The argument between her, the driver, the attendant, and the other passengers was for the most part in angry Ewe, though one old man did yell out, “This is not your personal car!”. The rest of the ride was quiet enough, though I was wondering if I’d be able to stand afterwards. Luckily, a few people got off and an old woman pointed me to an open seat. Samantha sat, and I on her lap, trying unsuccessfully to “think skinny,” since I knew the bumps in the road caused my entire weight to crush down on Samantha’s bladder… It’s lucky that we did grab that seat because it had started to rain pretty hard. One stop later, and 10 tiny children, maybe the age of 4, climbed aboard, soaking wet. They clambered about and sat on the floor, exactly where we had just been. They looked at us in awe. Resembling the baby sea turtles in Finding Nemo, 2 stops later they all squealed “Bus Stop!” in unison. It was cute. Finally another seat opened up and I snagged it. My back was killing me, as was my neck from tossing and turning all night. I was cranky and hungry and was ready to leave Ghana. I couldn’t deal with this bus any longer.
We got home and found a new bunch of bananas on the table—surprise! I ate one and some crackers. So did Samantha. Mmm lunch. Not two minutes after we’d arrived back home, did Michael come running up to say good afternoon. I swear he’s a spy, haha. Kofi came by too and colored for a little while. Soon it was time for our last JSS study session so we headed for the compound. It went well; there were some very eager and attentive students who enjoyed the activity. We picked out groups of short stories, had them read at their own pace, and then get into their groups to discuss and write a summary. Though most students cheat and write directly from the book for their summaries, they were reading, and they were enjoying it, which is what mattered most. I have to say, JSS students are so much better behaved than the Primary kids. They’re better for my health, I don’t feel like I have an ulcer when I leave the JSS students. It was raining, and Bright walked with us back toward our end of the village, talking about the reproductive health interview he’d participated in.
When we got back to the room we dried off and I realized I had to pee. I tried to be stealth with the rain, attempting to avoid more wetness as much as possible. It was a feeble attempt, as when I jogged to the outhouse, the door was wide open. I asked Kofi’s mom if anyone was using it, and the conversation lingered in the rain something like the following:
CB: Oh is someone using the toilet?
KM: No
CB: So I can go in?
KM: No
CB: Who’s using it?
KM: Kofi
CB: But… Kofi is right there… (standing pantless beside his mother)
KM: Yes
CB: So I can use it
KM: Yes
CB: So no one’s in there?
KM: Yes
CB: Ok so I’ll go in?
KM: No
CB: uh huh…
And then I just bolted for the door. As often as I seem to walk in on men pooping in the outhouse (for some reason it never occurs to anyone to shut either of the two doors to the outhouse or the stall inside…) I figured one more possibility wouldn’t matter.
It was raining still when 5:30pm rolled around. We were supposed to go to the Anyo meeting but I wondered how punctual everyone would be, or even if the meeting would be cancelled due to the rain. At 5:45pm we walked over to Richard’s. Only Richard was there, with a couple young guys who always hang around his place for shots of whiskey. I tend to forget that Richard acts as the village bartender. A few moments later, Hans appeared in the doorway, and I was tragically hopeful that the meeting would still happen. Soon, the rain picked up and poured down heavily. It was so loud under Richard’s tin roof; I had to raise my voice next to his ear to ask him about his eye. The swelling goes down slightly when he takes his pain medication, though the pain continues to agonize him at a fixed rate despite the efforts of Western medicine. He lifted his lid to show me his eye. It looks the same—red, swollen beyond belief, the pupil and coloring around it is almost an exaggerated blob of what used to represent his eye color. It looked as though the eye would explode at any moment. It took all my might not to wince in horror, even though I had seen it a few weeks before.
Two men rode up on their motorbike, soaked to the bone. They each took a shot of whiskey, greeted us, and then left. At first I mistook the revving of the motorbike’s engine as distant thunder. Emil arrived, and soon the other men who frequented Richard’s bar left. The rain had died down slightly, and I realized that there wasn’t going to be a meeting. Walter wasn’t there, and neither was Sema. So, I asked Emil if he would accompany us to visit the chief tomorrow to discuss volunteers to chaperone evening hours at the library, to which he agreed. I also explained that the library still needed benches for the students to sit on, and the lights needed to be fixed, since they would be incredibly necessary for evening operations to work. I also brought up an idea I had come up with earlier in the morning…
The focus group with Anyo was very successful, and noted malnutrition as a very significant health challenge in the rural areas. Because the diet is “one-sided,” since most people eat either banku or fu-fu everyday for every meal, essential vitamins from fruits and vegetables are severely absent. Originally, Anyo’s seed money from BRIDGE was to be used to start an income-generating farming project. Of course the idea of any project that could generate income is a great idea in theory, but as I’ve had some hard realizations about development throughout this trip, great ideas in practice are much harder to implement successfully. If Anyo did generate some income, there would be disagreements on who should spend the money, on what, how, and what for. This was exemplified in Richard’s objection to use some of an emergency medical fund for his own eye, when four others in the village also had eye problems. So what project could actually do some good?
A vegetable garden seemed like a good solution to me. It would be run by Anyo Group, and sell vegetables for very affordable prices, not for income or profit, but merely enough to keep the garden growing, to buy more seeds, fertilizer, top soil, etc. I don’t know exactly what vegetables would thrive here; if there were any other than cassava, I would have thought someone would have figured it out by now… but then again… maybe not. I drew pictures and described various vegetables—tomatoes, carrots, onions, beets, spinach, peas, green beans, and peppers. We made a list of possible try vegetable seeds to buy, as well as materials that would be needed. We decided that chicken wire mesh fencing would be needed, as well as wood for the fence frame and gate. Lord knows as soon as those vegetables start growing, the goats will be all over it. Emil, Hans, and Richard seemed very pleased and somewhat excited about the idea. They said they would definitely try it. I suggested that once the garden becomes successful, they could ask a few children at a time to help harvest the vegetables, or tend to the garden. It would present an ideal opportunity to teach the children about vegetables and nutrition. There’s an organization, a bank really, that has been introduced to the region since my last visit—the Agricultural Development Bank. I have mentioned it before in these posts, but as I understood it, it served to give loans to farmers, and could act as a savings account for farmers as well—a financial option not previously available to farmers with no collateral. Emil, Richard and I discussed the ADB, and I suggested they should contact their regional office to bring a resource person in to teach Anyo about how to farm these vegetables. If the project became very successful, Anyo could expand it with a loan from the ADB. Richard also suggested bringing in a resource person to teach members of the community about nutrition.
Though it wasn’t an official Anyo meeting, I thought the visit was very productive. I started to regain some of my original enthusiasm for small scale projects in the village. Richard asked me to write down my postal address, email, and phone number. I couldn’t quite remember the correct country code for dialing the US from Ghana, I knew it was either 001 or 011. Richard giggled as he dialed my number into his phone, similar to the way my friends and I did in elementary school when we were getting ready to prank call someone. He tested it first by itself, then with 011, and finally squealed with glee when 001+ my number connected him to my voicemail—something they don’t use here. I guess I’ll find out when I check my messages at home how long the call was connected, I’m sure I’ll be able to hear his squeals and giggles even though he held the phone away in surprise. It was like a child who prank calls someone, and when the person answers, the child forgets what to do, and tries to hand the phone off to someone else, laughing all the while. It was histerical.
Richard asked when we should have the final Anyo meeting before we head off, and I suggested Friday night. He handed me a familiar book, with “Guest Book,” written on the cover. I remembered Denise and I had written messages to Anyo at the end of our last visit, thanking them for the experiences and their friendship. I suddenly realized that this was the first of our last goodbyes. Though I miss home, and was fed up with how things had turned out in the village after my last visit, the people make it memorable and I’ll always have a place for them in my heart. Unfortunately, gatherings like tonight don’t happen often. Usually Mama is the one to socialize, occasionally Sema will accompany her. I will be sad to say goodbye to Anyo this time. I’m not sure if I’ll be back here again. I’d like to transport Richard and Mama and the kids back to the US though. When I left before, I was sad to say goodbye, but I think deep down I knew I would return. This time… I’m not so sure. I would like to say that I will, perhaps with more experience, more guidance to offer, more projects to start and actually get to oversee… but who knows? It’s hard to accomplish anything in less than 6 weeks. It takes a month usually to just get acclimated again, to the village, to the culture, to the people, and to understand their needs and challenges. I can’t imagine being in a place in my life again where I have the luxury of abandoning responsibility to come live here for any length of time. Though, the last time I said goodbye, Richard did say that whenever I got married, they would send someone from Anyo to attend. Maybe not that exactly but maybe if I get wealthy (unlikely considering my future in non profit work) I can bring Mama and her kids out for a visit. And then maybe they can stay and be my next door neighbors. And maybe Richard can come too and teach me how to sew. Life in dreams…
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Feeling Better
I woke up feeling much better, not 100%, but still so much better than the day before. I had a little bit of porridge for breakfast, and managed to eat most of a banana (my first meal since breakfast yesterday). Samantha and I dragged ourselves out of the compound to confront Believe about the exorbitant price she was charging for our garments, and to request more alterations. I hate confrontation of any kind, and I didn’t want to outright accuse her of cheating us, but part of the problem I knew had been and was going to be the language barrier. I think Believe lets on that she understands more English than she actually does. Either way, I wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. Mama had said she didn’t want to come with us because after we leave, Believe would have it in for Mama, which of course we didn’t want… but at the same time I wanted Mama’s support.
The meeting with Believe went better than I expected. We sat down, and I explained that two years ago, she only charged me 2 cedi per skirt, and that 35 cedi for two skirts and a dress was much too expensive. She nodded and smiled, so I continued, trying to find simpler words… just in case. I explained we didn’t have that much money left and we could pay her 5 cedi per garment, which was more than fair. She agreed, though I think she was slightly embarrassed. I then went on to specify some alterations: replacing a shiny ribbon as the band of the top of the skirt with a simple piece of leftover fabric; She had cut the dress in two pieces to shorten the length, and hadn’t put it back together yet. I seized this opportunity since I didn’t like the way she had placed the fabric for the top of the dress differently than the skirt of the dress—I asked her to convert the skirt of the dress into a skirt just like the others, and I would use the top part as fabric for my own projects when I get home. I’ll be much happier with three skirts instead of two skirts and a misshapen dress. The skirts I must say have turned out well so far, so I’m looking forward to the final product. Samantha went on to specify her alterations, and then we explained that we would need it all by Friday night since we’re leaving on Saturday morning. This was the point where surprise crossed Believe’s face, putting a time crunch pressure on her work that I’m sure she’s never felt before, given the widespread adoption of “Africa time”. As we were finishing up our discussion of alterations, Mama walked over, with Cicho following reluctantly behind her. He was sleepy. She had come to see how I was feeling and saw us so she came over, but kept her distance as to not interfere or let on that she supported our ambitions to lower the price.
After we finished at Believe’s compound, Mama and Cicho walked with us back to our compound. Cicho was getting cranky while Mama cleaned up after our breakfast and emptied our trash with her hands (had I known they didn’t just dump the wastebasket upside down I would have been more neat with the way I threw away banana peels and Q-tips…). I showed Cicho a book we had lying on our table, The Fox and the Hound. He immediately left his cranky mood aside and became elated as he turned the pages. After every turn of the page, he would squeal and giggle, and clap his hands. Mama finished cleaning up, prompting Cicho to tease her. He would lift the curtain over his head and walk until his face pushed against her face. They were both laughing, and it was really nice to see. As I may have mentioned before, Mama is one of the only adults I ever see playing with and enjoying their child. Mama said they needed to go, and Cicho rediscovered his cranky side. He walked halfway through the compound, picked up a small stone and walked back… Mama apparently has dealt with this decision before and exclaimed, “If you throw that stone at me I will beat you!” He threw it. Mama just shook her head, and said, “Bye Cicho,” as she continued to sit on our step. He picked up a rock this time, bigger than his little fist. Mama reminded him of her previous threat, this time with more conviction. He came to the bottom of the step, arm back holding the rock by his ear, ready to throw it in her direction. He paused, visibly considering his options, and slowly lowered his arm and put the rock down on the step.
After Mama and Cicho left, Samantha and I watched Marie Antoinette on my laptop, and then savored our fan for a little while until lunch time. I was hungry, which was a good sign, but also slightly uncomfortable. We were brought French fries for lunch, which pleased me. Though, when Samantha gave me a significantly smaller portion than hers, I scoffed in protest. But she was probably right, I shouldn’t push it. We relaxed the rest of the afternoon; I caught myself up on blogging, and Samantha read a book. Around 2:30pm, Michael came over after school. We asked if Mama knew where he was and if he’d been home yet; to both questions he answered the usual “yes.” He colored for a really short while, sat on the chair next to me, and next thing I knew he had fallen fast asleep. At 4pm, it was time for the Primary 4-6 study session, so I woke him up—drool dripping from his chin, and eyes tired and red, poor thing. We walked him home, and headed for the library and school compound.
I am not… meant to handle mobs of children. A few well-behaved, sweet ones like Michael, Jessica, Kofi, Mawufemor and Cicho are a breeze. But when there are 40 or 50 loud and energetic children, a scene of utter chaos ensues. We gathered the children in the library again, and Samantha is meant to lead the sessions. Though I love Samantha very much, she doesn’t really have any ounce of a disciplinary figure in her. She asks in a sweet voice if what she had planned is ok. Half of the children don’t understand and run amok anyway; the other half behave and do what they’re asked and try to explain it to others. But for the most part, even if they do understand, they don’t listen. Tearing apart the shelves with books, it looks like a tornado blew through the library. You tell them choose one book and we’ll do an activity, and they grab one book, look through, throw it on the floor, and go back for another. They surround you like vultures, and pretend they never got a book or a crayon or a piece of paper, when they really have gotten a few. When you only have enough paper and crayons for every child to have one of each, it’s frustrating when you recognize some kids have already had their share, you tell them no and tell them why, and they snatch it anyway when you turn your head to look at the mob of children that have backed you literally into a corner. Usually of the two of us, I’m the one who raises my voice loud enough for all the children to hear, and I’m the one who says anything with conviction enough to be respected, and the children usually fall in line. I’m sorry if I sound like a dictator, but seriously… MOBS. At any rate, I gave up. Not feeling 100%, and not being born with enough patience to deal with this situation, I sat down and waited for it to be over. Granted, I was cranky. The kids were generally happy and excited; it went fairly well despite the chaotic mess they left behind.
Exhausted and hungry, we went back to our compound and rested and waited for dinner. We had jollof rice; I had just a small scoop, again trying not to push my luck with my stomach. Bright came by to see how I was feeling, as did Mama and Sema. Shortly after dinner I was ready for bed. Our last Market Day is tomorrow, and therefore my last entry until I update this when I get home… probably on Monday I’ll update it, and maybe post some pictures. I start my journey home in only 4 days!
The meeting with Believe went better than I expected. We sat down, and I explained that two years ago, she only charged me 2 cedi per skirt, and that 35 cedi for two skirts and a dress was much too expensive. She nodded and smiled, so I continued, trying to find simpler words… just in case. I explained we didn’t have that much money left and we could pay her 5 cedi per garment, which was more than fair. She agreed, though I think she was slightly embarrassed. I then went on to specify some alterations: replacing a shiny ribbon as the band of the top of the skirt with a simple piece of leftover fabric; She had cut the dress in two pieces to shorten the length, and hadn’t put it back together yet. I seized this opportunity since I didn’t like the way she had placed the fabric for the top of the dress differently than the skirt of the dress—I asked her to convert the skirt of the dress into a skirt just like the others, and I would use the top part as fabric for my own projects when I get home. I’ll be much happier with three skirts instead of two skirts and a misshapen dress. The skirts I must say have turned out well so far, so I’m looking forward to the final product. Samantha went on to specify her alterations, and then we explained that we would need it all by Friday night since we’re leaving on Saturday morning. This was the point where surprise crossed Believe’s face, putting a time crunch pressure on her work that I’m sure she’s never felt before, given the widespread adoption of “Africa time”. As we were finishing up our discussion of alterations, Mama walked over, with Cicho following reluctantly behind her. He was sleepy. She had come to see how I was feeling and saw us so she came over, but kept her distance as to not interfere or let on that she supported our ambitions to lower the price.
After we finished at Believe’s compound, Mama and Cicho walked with us back to our compound. Cicho was getting cranky while Mama cleaned up after our breakfast and emptied our trash with her hands (had I known they didn’t just dump the wastebasket upside down I would have been more neat with the way I threw away banana peels and Q-tips…). I showed Cicho a book we had lying on our table, The Fox and the Hound. He immediately left his cranky mood aside and became elated as he turned the pages. After every turn of the page, he would squeal and giggle, and clap his hands. Mama finished cleaning up, prompting Cicho to tease her. He would lift the curtain over his head and walk until his face pushed against her face. They were both laughing, and it was really nice to see. As I may have mentioned before, Mama is one of the only adults I ever see playing with and enjoying their child. Mama said they needed to go, and Cicho rediscovered his cranky side. He walked halfway through the compound, picked up a small stone and walked back… Mama apparently has dealt with this decision before and exclaimed, “If you throw that stone at me I will beat you!” He threw it. Mama just shook her head, and said, “Bye Cicho,” as she continued to sit on our step. He picked up a rock this time, bigger than his little fist. Mama reminded him of her previous threat, this time with more conviction. He came to the bottom of the step, arm back holding the rock by his ear, ready to throw it in her direction. He paused, visibly considering his options, and slowly lowered his arm and put the rock down on the step.
After Mama and Cicho left, Samantha and I watched Marie Antoinette on my laptop, and then savored our fan for a little while until lunch time. I was hungry, which was a good sign, but also slightly uncomfortable. We were brought French fries for lunch, which pleased me. Though, when Samantha gave me a significantly smaller portion than hers, I scoffed in protest. But she was probably right, I shouldn’t push it. We relaxed the rest of the afternoon; I caught myself up on blogging, and Samantha read a book. Around 2:30pm, Michael came over after school. We asked if Mama knew where he was and if he’d been home yet; to both questions he answered the usual “yes.” He colored for a really short while, sat on the chair next to me, and next thing I knew he had fallen fast asleep. At 4pm, it was time for the Primary 4-6 study session, so I woke him up—drool dripping from his chin, and eyes tired and red, poor thing. We walked him home, and headed for the library and school compound.
I am not… meant to handle mobs of children. A few well-behaved, sweet ones like Michael, Jessica, Kofi, Mawufemor and Cicho are a breeze. But when there are 40 or 50 loud and energetic children, a scene of utter chaos ensues. We gathered the children in the library again, and Samantha is meant to lead the sessions. Though I love Samantha very much, she doesn’t really have any ounce of a disciplinary figure in her. She asks in a sweet voice if what she had planned is ok. Half of the children don’t understand and run amok anyway; the other half behave and do what they’re asked and try to explain it to others. But for the most part, even if they do understand, they don’t listen. Tearing apart the shelves with books, it looks like a tornado blew through the library. You tell them choose one book and we’ll do an activity, and they grab one book, look through, throw it on the floor, and go back for another. They surround you like vultures, and pretend they never got a book or a crayon or a piece of paper, when they really have gotten a few. When you only have enough paper and crayons for every child to have one of each, it’s frustrating when you recognize some kids have already had their share, you tell them no and tell them why, and they snatch it anyway when you turn your head to look at the mob of children that have backed you literally into a corner. Usually of the two of us, I’m the one who raises my voice loud enough for all the children to hear, and I’m the one who says anything with conviction enough to be respected, and the children usually fall in line. I’m sorry if I sound like a dictator, but seriously… MOBS. At any rate, I gave up. Not feeling 100%, and not being born with enough patience to deal with this situation, I sat down and waited for it to be over. Granted, I was cranky. The kids were generally happy and excited; it went fairly well despite the chaotic mess they left behind.
Exhausted and hungry, we went back to our compound and rested and waited for dinner. We had jollof rice; I had just a small scoop, again trying not to push my luck with my stomach. Bright came by to see how I was feeling, as did Mama and Sema. Shortly after dinner I was ready for bed. Our last Market Day is tomorrow, and therefore my last entry until I update this when I get home… probably on Monday I’ll update it, and maybe post some pictures. I start my journey home in only 4 days!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sickness
I was wrong. I should mention here that this entry may be slightly graphic regarding bodily functions, so if you’re squeamish or don’t want to know me that well, feel free to skip to the next entry. Getting sick sucks; getting sick when you’re not home sucks even worse. But being sick in a remote village in West Africa is awful. These were the longest 24 hours I’d spent in Ghana. During the night I had to get up four times to visit the outhouse. Number 2s resembled ink. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t vomit. The nausea and cramping and stomach pains continued through the night, and on throughout the day. I realized I had a fever. In the morning I tried to have a tiny bit of ground nut soup, but it came back up later. I felt a little better after I vomited, but it didn’t last long. I restlessly lay in bed for most of the day, sweating profusely between my trips to the outhouse. Every time, I was sure there was nothing left in my body, but 45 minutes later, I would be proven wrong. I felt like death, and according to Samantha, I looked like it too.
Details are fuzzy but I do remember Mama, Hans, and Emil standing in our room speaking in Ewe with concern, and deciding if I should go to the hospital, or medical assistant in the village. Hans and Emil were asking me questions about my bowels, and though I appreciated their concern, I detested having to provide so much embarrassing detail about my number 2s to them. I should mention that during the worst of it, the idea of a hospital with an IV to rehydrate my weak body did cross my mind. Though I wondered how I would get there. I didn’t know where it was. I imagined tracking down Samuel and his tro-tro, or perhaps they would fasten a cart behind a motorbike and put me on that. I dozed off I think as I remembered the numerous interviews I’d conducted, and how every one of them said there wasn’t enough qualified medical personnel in the case of emergencies and sickness… I wondered if the medical assistant they spoke of meant the hairdresser. Throughout the afternoon I drifted in and out of consciousness, though I remember thinking a lot about Cast Away, and how Tom Hanks was so upset when he lost Wilson to sea. And how can you remove a tooth just by hitting it with a rock? Wouldn’t it just break the tooth? I also thought about Free Willy, remembering a dream I had two nights prior that involved me, Sean, and Christina Zeender swimming in a pool at night with two orca whales. The orcas were significantly smaller than they are in real life, though in the dream they were still significantly larger than us. I wondered about the trainer who was killed a few months ago in Florida by an orca. So how did they film Free Willy? How could they be sure that whale wasn’t going to kill the little boy? Or did they use a mechanical whale?
Mama brought me some pills to take, and a rehydration packet to mix with water. The pills were chewable but tasted disgusting. One of them had aluminum hydroxolite and magnesium or something written on the side. The rehydration packet had the same ingredients as my rehydration tablets, but it also had something to act as glue… to help stop the “running” of the insides. Samantha took the liberty of filling 25 oz. of water in my water bottle and mixed the rehydration substance in. The resulting product was brownish-green, resembling brackish water. It was supposed to be orange flavored I’m assuming… but the taste was like warm salt water from the ocean, with a hint of orange… I could only sip two or three sips at a time before needing a break before my gag reflexes prompted an unnecessary vomiting episode.
Later, Mama and Sema brought plain rice for me to eat. I managed to eat a banana, and 4 small bites of rice. I knew my stomach wasn’t ready for anything yet. But Mama sat there and said I should finish half of the brackish substance before she would leave. Ugh. The strain of dealing with illness was hard enough, but to keep up my manners and be polite while trying to tell them to leave me alone was impossible. I sipped, steadily, forcing every swallow. While they stared at me, I suggested Samantha show them pictures from Cape Coast, in order to take the attention off of me. They admired the pictures as I stared at the rice in front of me, thinking only one word, “impossible.” Luckily, Mama asked if Believe had finished making the skirts, which gave us an opportunity to show Mama and Sema a couple “finished” garments and ask if the price was unfair. Mama and Sema criticized the work, pointing out details that should have been fixed or completed before giving it to us. They also agreed that the price for my two skirts and dress (35 cedi) and Sam’s skirt, dress, and two shirts (45 cedi) was a ridiculous amount. They said that 5 cedi per garment was more than fair, and that tomorrow we should send the items back to Believe and explain clearly that we will not pay that much. The idea of confrontation made me nervous, but I was happy to know they thought it was overly expensive too.
With Samantha’s adamant promise that she would make me eat more rice and make sure that I drank the brackish grossness, Mama and Sema took their leave and said they would return later. Sometime in the evening I vomited the rehydration substance and the little bit of rice and banana I did eat. At that point, I poured out the rest of the 14 oz. of brackish stuff on the ground. I hated to lie to Mama, but I literally couldn’t stomach the thought of drinking any more. When Mama and Sema did return later that night, I was half asleep. I heard mumbling, and Samantha promising to come get Mama if things got worse in the night. They had left a small 200ml bottle of chilled coke on the table for me. I drank a little when I woke up around midnight. I continued to toss and turn; I couldn’t get comfortable. The fever was still going strong, though I felt like it had lessened a little bit since the afternoon. I may have vomited again… I’m really not sure. But I did manage to sleep through most of the night, only getting up to pee, which I hoped meant the worst was over.
Details are fuzzy but I do remember Mama, Hans, and Emil standing in our room speaking in Ewe with concern, and deciding if I should go to the hospital, or medical assistant in the village. Hans and Emil were asking me questions about my bowels, and though I appreciated their concern, I detested having to provide so much embarrassing detail about my number 2s to them. I should mention that during the worst of it, the idea of a hospital with an IV to rehydrate my weak body did cross my mind. Though I wondered how I would get there. I didn’t know where it was. I imagined tracking down Samuel and his tro-tro, or perhaps they would fasten a cart behind a motorbike and put me on that. I dozed off I think as I remembered the numerous interviews I’d conducted, and how every one of them said there wasn’t enough qualified medical personnel in the case of emergencies and sickness… I wondered if the medical assistant they spoke of meant the hairdresser. Throughout the afternoon I drifted in and out of consciousness, though I remember thinking a lot about Cast Away, and how Tom Hanks was so upset when he lost Wilson to sea. And how can you remove a tooth just by hitting it with a rock? Wouldn’t it just break the tooth? I also thought about Free Willy, remembering a dream I had two nights prior that involved me, Sean, and Christina Zeender swimming in a pool at night with two orca whales. The orcas were significantly smaller than they are in real life, though in the dream they were still significantly larger than us. I wondered about the trainer who was killed a few months ago in Florida by an orca. So how did they film Free Willy? How could they be sure that whale wasn’t going to kill the little boy? Or did they use a mechanical whale?
Mama brought me some pills to take, and a rehydration packet to mix with water. The pills were chewable but tasted disgusting. One of them had aluminum hydroxolite and magnesium or something written on the side. The rehydration packet had the same ingredients as my rehydration tablets, but it also had something to act as glue… to help stop the “running” of the insides. Samantha took the liberty of filling 25 oz. of water in my water bottle and mixed the rehydration substance in. The resulting product was brownish-green, resembling brackish water. It was supposed to be orange flavored I’m assuming… but the taste was like warm salt water from the ocean, with a hint of orange… I could only sip two or three sips at a time before needing a break before my gag reflexes prompted an unnecessary vomiting episode.
Later, Mama and Sema brought plain rice for me to eat. I managed to eat a banana, and 4 small bites of rice. I knew my stomach wasn’t ready for anything yet. But Mama sat there and said I should finish half of the brackish substance before she would leave. Ugh. The strain of dealing with illness was hard enough, but to keep up my manners and be polite while trying to tell them to leave me alone was impossible. I sipped, steadily, forcing every swallow. While they stared at me, I suggested Samantha show them pictures from Cape Coast, in order to take the attention off of me. They admired the pictures as I stared at the rice in front of me, thinking only one word, “impossible.” Luckily, Mama asked if Believe had finished making the skirts, which gave us an opportunity to show Mama and Sema a couple “finished” garments and ask if the price was unfair. Mama and Sema criticized the work, pointing out details that should have been fixed or completed before giving it to us. They also agreed that the price for my two skirts and dress (35 cedi) and Sam’s skirt, dress, and two shirts (45 cedi) was a ridiculous amount. They said that 5 cedi per garment was more than fair, and that tomorrow we should send the items back to Believe and explain clearly that we will not pay that much. The idea of confrontation made me nervous, but I was happy to know they thought it was overly expensive too.
With Samantha’s adamant promise that she would make me eat more rice and make sure that I drank the brackish grossness, Mama and Sema took their leave and said they would return later. Sometime in the evening I vomited the rehydration substance and the little bit of rice and banana I did eat. At that point, I poured out the rest of the 14 oz. of brackish stuff on the ground. I hated to lie to Mama, but I literally couldn’t stomach the thought of drinking any more. When Mama and Sema did return later that night, I was half asleep. I heard mumbling, and Samantha promising to come get Mama if things got worse in the night. They had left a small 200ml bottle of chilled coke on the table for me. I drank a little when I woke up around midnight. I continued to toss and turn; I couldn’t get comfortable. The fever was still going strong, though I felt like it had lessened a little bit since the afternoon. I may have vomited again… I’m really not sure. But I did manage to sleep through most of the night, only getting up to pee, which I hoped meant the worst was over.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Long Day of Travel Back to the Village
There’s not a whole lot to say for the day. We got up at 6am, and I showered before packing up my things. At 7am our taxi driver who had dropped us off two days prior was waiting for us. He took us to the STC bus station, where we waited… and waited… Finally at 8:30 someone came to the window to sell tickets. I was starting to feel really nauseous, and prayed that I wouldn’t get sick on the bus. This time, the bus’s air conditioning didn’t work very well so the three hour ride was hot and not well ventilated. I think I slept some, but I’m not sure. I wasn’t feeling well at all. When we got to Accra, it had been 4 hours since we left our room in Cape Coast, and I had drank plenty of water, trying to aid my aching stomach… so I had to pay 20 peswas to use a toilet near the bus station. We took a taxi to the tro-tro station, and boarded a tro-tro bound for Ho. That three hour journey was better; I sat by the wide open window, and we had a little more leg room since we were sitting in the front row—I put my backpack under my knees and propped my feet against the driver’s seat in front of me. By the time we got to Ho, it was about 2:30pm, which on a non-market day means you’re SOL for finding a tro-tro headed for Saviefe. We walked for a while before we found some taxi drivers that began to fight over who would take us, for an over-priced amount of 18 cedi. It was either that, or walk, and I was not about to embark on that endeavor, especially feeling as awful as I did. Finally we got back to the village, just before 4pm. I was starving and nauseous at the same time—we hadn’t eaten anything all day, save for one Clif Bar and two granola bars for myself, and 4 Clif Bars for Samantha. We were hoping for jollof rice, and after resting for a short bit, we got our wish. Sema brought jollof rice with a few of those thin meat-like patties. By 8pm, we were exhausted and ready for bed. I was hoping that I’d feel better in the morning, thinking it was my lack of food that was the problem.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Cape Coast
The morning was much sunnier than the day before. I saw a delectable item on the menu for breakfast that I just had to order: pancakes! They were delicious. They were like giant crepes, thicker but not as fluffy-dense as American pancakes. There were some sautéed bananas with them, and I ate 3 of the 4 crepes. The last one I gave to Samantha because the bread, jam, and cheese breakfast she ordered looked like what you would get on an airplane—tiny prepackaged individual servings of jam and spreadable cheese substance, and 2 pieces of untoasted thin wheat bread.
After breakfast we headed to Cape Coast Castle, where the sun really came out in full force. I had been to the castle before, and everything was just how I remembered it. The castle was originally a fort, and exchanged hands numerous times before landing its infamous reputation as one of the largest slave trading posts on the West African coast. The dungeons were incredibly dark and equally depressing. Five compartments made up the male slave dungeon, holding 250 men in each compartment. The compartments couldn’t have been more than 20 feet wide, by 35 feet deep. For 2-3 months, men were held, unable to see daylight which caused temporary blindness when they were escorted out. They sustained with what little food and water was provided, and slept in months worth of filth—vomit, urine, and feces. When the dungeons were excavated, it was found that the pool of filth that slaves slept in reached a foot and a half off of the floor. Women were kept separately, in two chambers of between 400-500 women in each. Conditions were similar. Both male and female dungeons held slaves roughly between the ages of 13 and 30. Though there was a separate entrance in the female dungeon for soldiers to select the most beautiful ones for their nightly pleasures. If a woman refused the advances, she was thrown into a smaller cell, usually holding ten women all for the same reasons. That cell was 2 feet wide by 10 feet long. If women became pregnant from the rape of a soldier, the woman would be sent off to be cared for by a nurse in a home nearby until the delivery of the baby. Once the baby was delivered, the baby was taken to the church to be raised as an orphan and educated in the first formal school of Ghana, in Cape Coast. The mothers were sent back to the dungeons. If anyone tried to escape or fight back, they were sent as an example to the cell for the condemned. The room had no windows, no opening for light or air. They were given no food or water, and within two or three days, the occupants died. Once transported to the slave ships, people were packed like sardines, literally, with each person sitting between the legs of another for the journey to Europe or the Americas. Many were shackled together, so if one person either fell overboard or committed suicide by jumping off of the ship, the entire line of shackled slaves would follow. If a woman became pregnant from a rape on the ship, she was thrown overboard—no one wants to buy a pregnant slave. Many people died. Because of the food shortage on ships, dead bodies were mixed in with food to feed to the slaves. Of the 25 million or so slaves that survived the ships’ voyages, it can be said that upwards of 88 million people had died, either on the ship or within the walls of the Cape Coast Castle. Disturbing, humbling, and heart wrenching, the informative day was well worth it, even the second time around.
After the tour, we stopped at some stands inside the castle walls that were selling various curios as souvenirs. I found some beautiful artwork that I couldn’t afford, but settled for some smaller more simple pieces. We ate lunch at the Castle Restaurant right next door. I had vegetable coconut curry, which was really good, and a glass of pineapple juice. We watched the waves, and some kids wrestle and play on the sand. Before long we decided to head back to the bungalow for a short nap. Before we walked back though, Samantha stopped to buy a small drum. While she was busily haggling her price down, a woman motioned for my water bottle. I poured some of my water into a baggie she held open, one meant to hold the soy skewers she was selling.
It was so nice out we cut naptime short to sit on the beach. Kids came by selling pure water, oranges, and other things. We watched a group of guys play soccer on the beach, which seemed somewhat challenging when the tide started to come in. There were some fisherman boats behind them; I couldn’t tell if they were coming or going. The same group of kids appeared, this time to show off in front of other tourists. They did back flips and back hand springs, over and over and over. I ordered a sandwich—a poor decision on my part, I only ate half of it. A boy named Samson approached selling oranges and asked if I remembered him. He gave us guidance earlier that morning as to which way the castle was. He had asked me to buy oranges from him and I said maybe later. Since he found us, I happily bought two oranges for us, and one for him. Three oranges are only 50 peswas. He looked at the half sandwich that lay on my plate and asked if he could have it. I obliged. Another child brought a turtle over and put it on the table. Shortly afterward, we moved to a palm covering inside the walls of Oasis since it was getting dark. There was a new group of students or something who had just arrived. One girl was sitting in front of me, and I could see over her shoulder that she was sketching the scenery. It made me wish I was back in the practice of sketching and drawing. I feel like I used to be pretty good, but lately every time I pick up a pencil, I’m disgusted with the lack of vision, more so with the disappointing product. There were some evil little children whose parents neglected to see the importance of supervision. While the parents busied themselves with their beers and adult conversation, the children began throwing large stones at the sleeping puppies. I was livid, though I felt if I told the children to stop, it might start a fight. Clearly, animal care is handled differently here. I couldn’t stand it so we went back to the bungalow.
I brushed my teeth in our tiny sink with running water. If ever someone doesn’t appreciate the little things in life, send them to Africa. I have never been one for religion, but more and more when I’m in Ghana, I find myself praising Jesus for the small graces of the occasional luxury of running water, a fan, or a cold drink of water. There was a toad in the outhouse, which immediately reminded me of the Discovery Channel-wanna be show that was televised at the STC station, particularly the segment about deadly frogs. The entire show was a condensed version of an educational snippet of nature. At the most, four sentences were devoted to describe a different species, ranging from the wrath of the North American skunk, to the vampire bats of South America, to snakes and frogs, and jellyfish and coral, all of which makes you never want to take a nature walk again in your life. South America is seriously no joke. Not only are you in danger of being shot amid a miscommunication surrounding cocaine possession, the frogs are out to get you too. And God forbid you play like a monkey in the jungle because Tarzan might shoot you with a poison frog dart. They kept showing the same clip over and over, as if it would have more effect—a naked man in a loin cloth blowing his dart at a monkey, and then the monkey falls to the ground in death… so educational and… uplifting.
After breakfast we headed to Cape Coast Castle, where the sun really came out in full force. I had been to the castle before, and everything was just how I remembered it. The castle was originally a fort, and exchanged hands numerous times before landing its infamous reputation as one of the largest slave trading posts on the West African coast. The dungeons were incredibly dark and equally depressing. Five compartments made up the male slave dungeon, holding 250 men in each compartment. The compartments couldn’t have been more than 20 feet wide, by 35 feet deep. For 2-3 months, men were held, unable to see daylight which caused temporary blindness when they were escorted out. They sustained with what little food and water was provided, and slept in months worth of filth—vomit, urine, and feces. When the dungeons were excavated, it was found that the pool of filth that slaves slept in reached a foot and a half off of the floor. Women were kept separately, in two chambers of between 400-500 women in each. Conditions were similar. Both male and female dungeons held slaves roughly between the ages of 13 and 30. Though there was a separate entrance in the female dungeon for soldiers to select the most beautiful ones for their nightly pleasures. If a woman refused the advances, she was thrown into a smaller cell, usually holding ten women all for the same reasons. That cell was 2 feet wide by 10 feet long. If women became pregnant from the rape of a soldier, the woman would be sent off to be cared for by a nurse in a home nearby until the delivery of the baby. Once the baby was delivered, the baby was taken to the church to be raised as an orphan and educated in the first formal school of Ghana, in Cape Coast. The mothers were sent back to the dungeons. If anyone tried to escape or fight back, they were sent as an example to the cell for the condemned. The room had no windows, no opening for light or air. They were given no food or water, and within two or three days, the occupants died. Once transported to the slave ships, people were packed like sardines, literally, with each person sitting between the legs of another for the journey to Europe or the Americas. Many were shackled together, so if one person either fell overboard or committed suicide by jumping off of the ship, the entire line of shackled slaves would follow. If a woman became pregnant from a rape on the ship, she was thrown overboard—no one wants to buy a pregnant slave. Many people died. Because of the food shortage on ships, dead bodies were mixed in with food to feed to the slaves. Of the 25 million or so slaves that survived the ships’ voyages, it can be said that upwards of 88 million people had died, either on the ship or within the walls of the Cape Coast Castle. Disturbing, humbling, and heart wrenching, the informative day was well worth it, even the second time around.
After the tour, we stopped at some stands inside the castle walls that were selling various curios as souvenirs. I found some beautiful artwork that I couldn’t afford, but settled for some smaller more simple pieces. We ate lunch at the Castle Restaurant right next door. I had vegetable coconut curry, which was really good, and a glass of pineapple juice. We watched the waves, and some kids wrestle and play on the sand. Before long we decided to head back to the bungalow for a short nap. Before we walked back though, Samantha stopped to buy a small drum. While she was busily haggling her price down, a woman motioned for my water bottle. I poured some of my water into a baggie she held open, one meant to hold the soy skewers she was selling.
It was so nice out we cut naptime short to sit on the beach. Kids came by selling pure water, oranges, and other things. We watched a group of guys play soccer on the beach, which seemed somewhat challenging when the tide started to come in. There were some fisherman boats behind them; I couldn’t tell if they were coming or going. The same group of kids appeared, this time to show off in front of other tourists. They did back flips and back hand springs, over and over and over. I ordered a sandwich—a poor decision on my part, I only ate half of it. A boy named Samson approached selling oranges and asked if I remembered him. He gave us guidance earlier that morning as to which way the castle was. He had asked me to buy oranges from him and I said maybe later. Since he found us, I happily bought two oranges for us, and one for him. Three oranges are only 50 peswas. He looked at the half sandwich that lay on my plate and asked if he could have it. I obliged. Another child brought a turtle over and put it on the table. Shortly afterward, we moved to a palm covering inside the walls of Oasis since it was getting dark. There was a new group of students or something who had just arrived. One girl was sitting in front of me, and I could see over her shoulder that she was sketching the scenery. It made me wish I was back in the practice of sketching and drawing. I feel like I used to be pretty good, but lately every time I pick up a pencil, I’m disgusted with the lack of vision, more so with the disappointing product. There were some evil little children whose parents neglected to see the importance of supervision. While the parents busied themselves with their beers and adult conversation, the children began throwing large stones at the sleeping puppies. I was livid, though I felt if I told the children to stop, it might start a fight. Clearly, animal care is handled differently here. I couldn’t stand it so we went back to the bungalow.
I brushed my teeth in our tiny sink with running water. If ever someone doesn’t appreciate the little things in life, send them to Africa. I have never been one for religion, but more and more when I’m in Ghana, I find myself praising Jesus for the small graces of the occasional luxury of running water, a fan, or a cold drink of water. There was a toad in the outhouse, which immediately reminded me of the Discovery Channel-wanna be show that was televised at the STC station, particularly the segment about deadly frogs. The entire show was a condensed version of an educational snippet of nature. At the most, four sentences were devoted to describe a different species, ranging from the wrath of the North American skunk, to the vampire bats of South America, to snakes and frogs, and jellyfish and coral, all of which makes you never want to take a nature walk again in your life. South America is seriously no joke. Not only are you in danger of being shot amid a miscommunication surrounding cocaine possession, the frogs are out to get you too. And God forbid you play like a monkey in the jungle because Tarzan might shoot you with a poison frog dart. They kept showing the same clip over and over, as if it would have more effect—a naked man in a loin cloth blowing his dart at a monkey, and then the monkey falls to the ground in death… so educational and… uplifting.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Rain, Rain, Go Away!
We got up at 5:30am to leave Avenida Hotel for the STC bus station by 6am. It was raining lightly but steadily when we left. I hoped the rain would only last for the journey at most, and the sun would come out when we got to Cape Coast. We waited at the station for what seemed like forever. Apparently our bus has broken down and was being worked on at a shop… or something. While we sat, I stared at an old boxy television that was sitting in a cage, literally, attached the wall above the ticket window. The television showed really old dubbed telemundo, really bad Ghallywood and Nollywood (Ghana and Nigeria film industries) Movie of the Week trailers, low budget music videos with women dancing in the corner of a room, and a Discovery Channel-wanna be, which was particularly entertaining.
Our bus was air conditioned, and we got our own seats, which made the three hour journey to Cape Coast much nicer than the usual tro-tro jaunt. We got to Cape Coast, and took a quick taxi to Oasis. The service leaves something to be desired, particularly friendliness. The woman I spoke with when we arrived about my reservation seemed disgusted and annoyed that I had addressed her at all. The room was cute—bungalow style with a tiny sink and mirror in the room. The floor was tiled with broken pieces that made the floor look mosaic like. There were three twin beds with mattresses situated inside cement frames that were also cemented to the floor. Green mosquito nets hung above the beds, which at first glance looks like you’re supposed to sleep in those as hammocks. The outhouse was well lit and clean, and just a short 30 feet from the room. The outdoor shower was a cylinder shaped structure, painted red, yellow, and green on the outside. The inside was tiled, instead of the usual cement as décor. The spout had running runner, as did our sink. I can’t tell you how glorious it was to brush my teeth with running water, and to stand under a showerhead and let the water actually get all the shampoo out of my hair. Though, we couldn’t shower yet since it was raining. I mean, I guess we could have, but it was cold.
The rain continued throughout the day and evening, leaving us with nothing to do since our goal was to walk around the castle. Because of the rain, we didn’t see any other tourists out. I was wondering if we were the only ones staying at Oasis. The day was pretty boring since we couldn’t do anything. We ate lunch, sat by ourselves under a covering while the rain poured down heavily. A good thing about Oasis was that they had dogs. One mama dog with two pups, they looked like shepherd mixes. One pup was all white, so I named him Bruno (for obruni, which means white). The other was black with tan markings, like the “black tri” markings of some Australian shepherds. The pups were really sweet, and lay by our feet under the table. The ocean surf was really loud, and every now and then there was an explosion of forceful waters doubling back over rocks and colliding with each other into an eruption of waves. The rain made it cold, so we were shivering, including the pups. I hadn’t prepared for chilly weather. We took a nap.
We woke up at 8pm to go have dinner. At that point, it was more crowded in the restaurant area. There were white people everywhere—I wondered where they all came from. But similar to Ryan’s Irish Pub, when there’s a popular ex-pat spot, usually most yavoos are there. We sat with a nice Finnish couple who had been backpacking and staying in hostels throughout Europe, Asia, and Africa since October. She was a part time journalist, sending in a story every now and then. The money could be stretched for a month’s living expenses in hostels, and he seemed to be along for the ride. There was a drumming performance going on that we listened to. We were all too cold to get up and try to see the performance. Between sets, the bull frogs continued with their own loud rendition of music. I never knew how loud bull frogs were, but good lord they are loud. It was almost 11pm (we were up late!) and we went back to the bungalow to sleep. I turned off my alarm :) and fell asleep as the drumming outside turned to hip-hop club music until about 1am.
Our bus was air conditioned, and we got our own seats, which made the three hour journey to Cape Coast much nicer than the usual tro-tro jaunt. We got to Cape Coast, and took a quick taxi to Oasis. The service leaves something to be desired, particularly friendliness. The woman I spoke with when we arrived about my reservation seemed disgusted and annoyed that I had addressed her at all. The room was cute—bungalow style with a tiny sink and mirror in the room. The floor was tiled with broken pieces that made the floor look mosaic like. There were three twin beds with mattresses situated inside cement frames that were also cemented to the floor. Green mosquito nets hung above the beds, which at first glance looks like you’re supposed to sleep in those as hammocks. The outhouse was well lit and clean, and just a short 30 feet from the room. The outdoor shower was a cylinder shaped structure, painted red, yellow, and green on the outside. The inside was tiled, instead of the usual cement as décor. The spout had running runner, as did our sink. I can’t tell you how glorious it was to brush my teeth with running water, and to stand under a showerhead and let the water actually get all the shampoo out of my hair. Though, we couldn’t shower yet since it was raining. I mean, I guess we could have, but it was cold.
The rain continued throughout the day and evening, leaving us with nothing to do since our goal was to walk around the castle. Because of the rain, we didn’t see any other tourists out. I was wondering if we were the only ones staying at Oasis. The day was pretty boring since we couldn’t do anything. We ate lunch, sat by ourselves under a covering while the rain poured down heavily. A good thing about Oasis was that they had dogs. One mama dog with two pups, they looked like shepherd mixes. One pup was all white, so I named him Bruno (for obruni, which means white). The other was black with tan markings, like the “black tri” markings of some Australian shepherds. The pups were really sweet, and lay by our feet under the table. The ocean surf was really loud, and every now and then there was an explosion of forceful waters doubling back over rocks and colliding with each other into an eruption of waves. The rain made it cold, so we were shivering, including the pups. I hadn’t prepared for chilly weather. We took a nap.
We woke up at 8pm to go have dinner. At that point, it was more crowded in the restaurant area. There were white people everywhere—I wondered where they all came from. But similar to Ryan’s Irish Pub, when there’s a popular ex-pat spot, usually most yavoos are there. We sat with a nice Finnish couple who had been backpacking and staying in hostels throughout Europe, Asia, and Africa since October. She was a part time journalist, sending in a story every now and then. The money could be stretched for a month’s living expenses in hostels, and he seemed to be along for the ride. There was a drumming performance going on that we listened to. We were all too cold to get up and try to see the performance. Between sets, the bull frogs continued with their own loud rendition of music. I never knew how loud bull frogs were, but good lord they are loud. It was almost 11pm (we were up late!) and we went back to the bungalow to sleep. I turned off my alarm :) and fell asleep as the drumming outside turned to hip-hop club music until about 1am.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Accra
It seemed the bus ride to Ho was the longest ever. It was the first non-market day we travelled to Ho, and because of the lack of tro-tros, the bus stopped constantly to let people on and off. From Ho, we caught a tro-tro to Accra. The three hour journey included scenes of desperately skinny cattle with ribs protruding from their sides, an array of fantasy coffins for sale on the side of the road, and an immigration checkpoint where we (the whites) had to get off the tro-tro with our belongings, show our passports and explain what we were doing in Ghana and why we were travelling, walk ourselves across their checkpoint border, and re-board the tro-tro. A little excessive, but whatever.
Once we were in Accra, we walked maybe a mile to a guesthouse, only to find they had no rooms available. They pointed us in the direction of another, more expensive guesthouse, but at the time it seemed like our best option. We walked, again, to the Avenida Hotel whose rate put us 7 cedi over budget for the trip. But the up-side was we had a ceiling fan and our own bathroom in our room! The toilet flushed, and the sink and shower had running water, and though the sink drained from a hole in the wall where the shower was, it was delightful. We had rice and chicken as a late lunch, a quick rest, and then headed for the STC bus station to purchase our tickets for the next day’s travel.
After we bought our bus tickets, we walked around for a bit. Sam bought a little Ghana flag, and I bought a Ghana soccer jersey, though it’s a bit small. We had hoped to eat dinner at El Gaucho, a place named in my guidebook for good tapas and game meat, including zebra. We walked around for what seemed like forever, and even got directions from various people, but the place was well hidden. We never did find it, and settled for something different… we came across Ryan’s Irish Pub. We had to go in. Inside, the pub was decorated like any other Irish pub—brown wooden walls, portraits of Irish people, sconces, and real taps for beer. We each had a cider, both were delicious. As promising as menu items may be described, you have to remember that despite the familiar atmosphere, you are still in Ghana. I should have remembered this. Samantha ordered a sandwich, which looked and tasted much better than my spinach and cheese lasagna and salad. I was disappointed by my choice in sustenance, and more so disappointed with the high price of the meal which put us 8 cedi over budget.
We went back to the hotel, and I tried to sleep, worried about how low we were getting on money, and also wondering if any creatures would be coming through the hole in the wall by the window next to my head. I was also paranoid about bed bugs or anything like it, so I wrapped myself in the top sheet and scooted myself toward Samantha for comfort. She probably doesn’t know that; I think she was already asleep. She had the good mattress anyway.
Once we were in Accra, we walked maybe a mile to a guesthouse, only to find they had no rooms available. They pointed us in the direction of another, more expensive guesthouse, but at the time it seemed like our best option. We walked, again, to the Avenida Hotel whose rate put us 7 cedi over budget for the trip. But the up-side was we had a ceiling fan and our own bathroom in our room! The toilet flushed, and the sink and shower had running water, and though the sink drained from a hole in the wall where the shower was, it was delightful. We had rice and chicken as a late lunch, a quick rest, and then headed for the STC bus station to purchase our tickets for the next day’s travel.
After we bought our bus tickets, we walked around for a bit. Sam bought a little Ghana flag, and I bought a Ghana soccer jersey, though it’s a bit small. We had hoped to eat dinner at El Gaucho, a place named in my guidebook for good tapas and game meat, including zebra. We walked around for what seemed like forever, and even got directions from various people, but the place was well hidden. We never did find it, and settled for something different… we came across Ryan’s Irish Pub. We had to go in. Inside, the pub was decorated like any other Irish pub—brown wooden walls, portraits of Irish people, sconces, and real taps for beer. We each had a cider, both were delicious. As promising as menu items may be described, you have to remember that despite the familiar atmosphere, you are still in Ghana. I should have remembered this. Samantha ordered a sandwich, which looked and tasted much better than my spinach and cheese lasagna and salad. I was disappointed by my choice in sustenance, and more so disappointed with the high price of the meal which put us 8 cedi over budget.
We went back to the hotel, and I tried to sleep, worried about how low we were getting on money, and also wondering if any creatures would be coming through the hole in the wall by the window next to my head. I was also paranoid about bed bugs or anything like it, so I wrapped myself in the top sheet and scooted myself toward Samantha for comfort. She probably doesn’t know that; I think she was already asleep. She had the good mattress anyway.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Last Day of Work before Vacation!
This morning we had porridge for breakfast, and Emil stopped by to say he’d try to get two people for interviews. I appreciated his help, because with only a few left to do, I was losing my motivation. Bismark surprisingly stopped by also. When he greeted us in English, we responded… in English, and he exclaimed that we didn’t greet him properly (in Ewe). Ugh. I so don’t care… He wanted to know how we were doing, since we “hadn’t come to see him at the office.” Well, clearly, when we’ve been there every Market Day (different days of the week), he’s never there because he only works 2 or 3 days a week, obviously we’ll never see him… I inquired about the money that Emil said Anyo didn’t get the last time I was here. He explained that since the home office (the two ex-Peace Corps volunteers that founded BRIDGE) in the US stopped supporting the office a year or two ago, BRIDGE found itself in a tough financial position, thereby taking away the obligation to pay the CBOs money, so they could support the office… the office that has expensive crappy internet when they’re only there 2 days a week, when you can check email for 20 peswas downstairs at the internet café… but whatever. I asked him for the breakdown of where the money we paid went, and he said he couldn’t be specific since he wasn’t at the office. He said on Wednesday he could give me more details. I knew full well that he knew exactly where every penny went. Emil was standing outside the door listening patiently, which I was pleased about. I didn’t really want to have to restate the conversation for the Anyo meeting tonight. Before Bismark left, somehow the topic of our caretakers came up. We said we felt bad that they weren’t letting us help with anything. To that he claimed we couldn’t wash clothes… I don’t know how he thinks Americans go about their daily lives; it’s not like we’re the Jetsons and have robots doing everything for us… we’re perfectly capable. He really irritates me.
We did one interview in the late morning, after which Mawufemor, Jessica and Michael visited us to color. I have to say, it’s interesting watching Jessica and Mawufemor together. Jessica is bold, sassy, and bossy; Mawufemor is quiet, sweet, always smiling the biggest most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. When Michael and Jessica started having issues sharing the crayons with Akiti (Mawufemor), Akiti gathered what she could, put them in the crayon box, walked over to me and placed the box under my chair. That way, she knew she would be able to get more crayons when she needed them. She also goes about and cleans up after everything, and organizes! She’s a girl after my own heart. Outside of that though, she really is an amazing little girl. Little, literally—she is 4 years old but could be 2 ½ or 3 by US size standards. Little, as “akiti” describes. I’ll really miss her smile when we leave. I wish Mama could move to the US and be my next door neighbor, and all her kids could go to good schools, and visit real libraries, and get real nutrition.
We held the JSS study session this afternoon, which went really well. All the kids who showed up (maybe about 15 kids) were so attentive and eager to do the activity. A few were shy about sharing what they read, but several seemed really excited about writing their own story. [One girl, Patricia, actually wrote a story and gave it to us the following Monday; She wrote a different one but lost it so wrote the replacement. It was about determination.] It seems that anything volunteers come to do with children really only gets anywhere with the JSS students. Primary kids are too young, and not as mature to take activities seriously, and part of it is because they don’t understand the English you’re using. That was something that I found really frustrating the last time I was here, and Samantha is feeling it as well now. They’re spoken to in English, taught in English, their exams are in English… yet they are not taught English as a language.
We had fufu for dinner; I didn’t eat much of it knowing how it sticks to your stomach like the rubber pancakes would in that Donald Duck cartoon. Afterwards, we headed to Richard’s for the Anyo meeting. We updated everyone on Bismark’s visit, and the progress with the study sessions and interviews. We decided to do a focus group with Anyo using some new questions I came up with regarding health in general. The focus group went really well—arguments between people with differing opinions, some really good points were made. I was glad I came up with the new questions. After the meeting, it was a little bit late so we went home to get ready for bed and our journey tomorrow.
Tomorrow we leave for Accra for the night, and then Friday it’s off to Cape Coast—I did manage to make a reservation at Oasis Beach Resort (yay). Hopefully it will be a good mini-vacation.
We did one interview in the late morning, after which Mawufemor, Jessica and Michael visited us to color. I have to say, it’s interesting watching Jessica and Mawufemor together. Jessica is bold, sassy, and bossy; Mawufemor is quiet, sweet, always smiling the biggest most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. When Michael and Jessica started having issues sharing the crayons with Akiti (Mawufemor), Akiti gathered what she could, put them in the crayon box, walked over to me and placed the box under my chair. That way, she knew she would be able to get more crayons when she needed them. She also goes about and cleans up after everything, and organizes! She’s a girl after my own heart. Outside of that though, she really is an amazing little girl. Little, literally—she is 4 years old but could be 2 ½ or 3 by US size standards. Little, as “akiti” describes. I’ll really miss her smile when we leave. I wish Mama could move to the US and be my next door neighbor, and all her kids could go to good schools, and visit real libraries, and get real nutrition.
We held the JSS study session this afternoon, which went really well. All the kids who showed up (maybe about 15 kids) were so attentive and eager to do the activity. A few were shy about sharing what they read, but several seemed really excited about writing their own story. [One girl, Patricia, actually wrote a story and gave it to us the following Monday; She wrote a different one but lost it so wrote the replacement. It was about determination.] It seems that anything volunteers come to do with children really only gets anywhere with the JSS students. Primary kids are too young, and not as mature to take activities seriously, and part of it is because they don’t understand the English you’re using. That was something that I found really frustrating the last time I was here, and Samantha is feeling it as well now. They’re spoken to in English, taught in English, their exams are in English… yet they are not taught English as a language.
We had fufu for dinner; I didn’t eat much of it knowing how it sticks to your stomach like the rubber pancakes would in that Donald Duck cartoon. Afterwards, we headed to Richard’s for the Anyo meeting. We updated everyone on Bismark’s visit, and the progress with the study sessions and interviews. We decided to do a focus group with Anyo using some new questions I came up with regarding health in general. The focus group went really well—arguments between people with differing opinions, some really good points were made. I was glad I came up with the new questions. After the meeting, it was a little bit late so we went home to get ready for bed and our journey tomorrow.
Tomorrow we leave for Accra for the night, and then Friday it’s off to Cape Coast—I did manage to make a reservation at Oasis Beach Resort (yay). Hopefully it will be a good mini-vacation.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Something Exciting! Just kidding… Same old thing
This morning we had our cocoa puff soup for breakfast again—yummy! While we were splashing ourselves clean with our buckets of water, Mama exclaimed she had to go to Ho as well, and sure enough, as we rode off on the bus, we saw Mama standing next to a waiting tro-tro at the other end of the village. Once we got off the bus in Ho, we ran into Mama again. She was all dressed up; I wondered if she was going to see her husband today. We had a fairly leisurely morning in Ho. We walked the mile or two to the intersection where the BRIDGE office is, exchanged money in the air conditioned bank for our Cape Coast excursion this weekend, and spent some quality time at the internet café. Of course, I always forget one or two things to do on the internet, which is annoying enough but especially today since we won’t have internet again for 8 days. I forgot to check my grades from the semester. Although I do know that I got an A- in project management, which is good. I did some digging, and after some extraordinary detective work, I came across the phone number for Oasis Beach Resort—the budget hotel in Cape Coast that I am praying we can get a room in. Mama will let us use her phone tonight to call and make a reservation.
After internet, we went to White House as usual for lunch, but it took longer than usual, which meant we were late catching the 1:30pm tro-tro, which meant we wouldn’t get back to the village until probably 3:45pm. On our walk back to the tro-tro stop we took some candid pictures of Ho to show to you all once we’re home. One of which is a severe oxymoron in my opinion; I posed, smiling, in front of the… “stream.” The stream though is the exact stream you may remember that I described stepping on stones to get to the other side via Emil’s infamous short-cut. It was a milky teal green in color, saturated with sewage and garbage. The oxymoron part is my smile. It is a horrific site, and if you stand down wind, it can be a vomit-inducing scene. We also took a picture of the house nearby that a quarter of it is missing, burned at the edges from I can only assume a fire that swallowed that part of the house. People still live there, and every time we walk by, there are large metal barrels outside the house billowing smoke from whatever they’re burning. Perhaps the fate of the house was an occupational hazard of its inhabitants. A man named Ben saw us on the street, and exited his barbershop to introduce himself to us. He was friendly enough; for any American I would think this type of behavior is like seeing a fish out of water, or a teacher at the movie theater. Ghanaians are pretty friendly for the most part, and usually if you walk down the street, a handful will stop to say hello and ask where you’re from. Some pride themselves on “having friends in the US,” which really means they’ve met people just like you on the street and said hello. It’s a little unnerving at first, but you get used to it, and after a while, you welcome it since many people stare at you with somber expressions which can be slightly intimidating. Most of the time if you smile and wave first, they’ll return the gesture with just as many smiles, but some continue to glare.
We got to the tro-tro area just in time to see the 1:30pm tro-tro pull away, with Mama waving at us from the front seat! Samuel greeted us and told us to wait, since his tro-tro was next to depart. As it backed into position, Samantha snapped a picture, accidentally getting some man selling Fan Ice (sort of an ice cream pop) in the process who became quite irate that his photo was taken. His anger is captured well in the photo, but we did manage to calm him down enough. The ride home was hot, sweaty, and unbearably crowded as usual. Samantha sat next to the giant window and felt like she would fall out, just like me. She was giving me impromptu agriculture lessons by quizzing me on the kinds of trees we passed. I can now successfully identify banana trees, palm trees, and coconut trees. I mentioned that the view was pretty, which caused Samantha to turn toward me when we went over a bump, which then caused her to smack her head against the top of the window just in time for Samuel to look at us from the front and start laughing. Samantha and I were laughing too, but I could tell from the tears in her eyes it must have really hurt. The tro-tro slowed since there was a tree lying in the middle of the road. A man stood by it, and when the driver asked him to move it, he begrudgingly obliged as he exclaimed, “speed bump!” The rest of the ride was ok I guess if you’re going by tro-tro standards. The skinny man on my right sure was taking up a lot of room though. I couldn’t put rest both shoulders on the back of the seat, only one, squished behind Samantha’s shoulder.
Finally we made it home 15 minutes before we were supposed to meet the Primary 4-6 kids. Luckily no one showed up, so we stopped at Mama’s to say hello but she was lying down on a bench with a headache. I offered her some of my Excedrin, which seemed to help. We went home to take a nap and clean the dirt and sweat from Ho off our skin, but of course it’s impossible to simply be left alone. Apparently the headmaster told the children 5pm instead of 4pm, so at 4:50pm, a young girl showed up to make sure we were going back to the library. *sigh* We did, and by that time, I had a headache. The group of children were pretty well-behaved, and it did last almost an hour. We had them read a story of their choice from their designated shelf in the library, and then draw a picture from the story with some crayons we brought. It went well. Afterward, we came home, closed our door, and laid down to rest just after I consumed some Excedrin for myself.
We had rice and pavlava sauce for dinner, which was good—spicier than usual. I selfishly hoped Bright wouldn’t come by for computer training tonight since I just wanted to sleep. My headache wasn’t completely gone, and my stomach was aching. He did come though, with his sister so I supervised while they practiced typing. Mama brought her friend by for an interview, and afterward I showed Mama a picture of me and Sean on my laptop. She said “Hello Sean I will say hello to you when I come to the US!” She also said he was very handsome, and noticed his long hair. She said when he comes to visit her in Ghana, she will grow her hair long and shake her head, haha. I asked her if she saw her husband in Ho, but apparently his sister was renting a room to a young woman and her son, about Michael’s age (5). The child mysteriously died in the night and Mama’s husband went to inform the family. We also talked about Mama’s mother who seems to be having severe pains; she was diagnosed with breast cancer and did have one mastectomy, so Mama is confused why her mother is still having so much pain… The water in the barrel used for pouring down the toilet (to flush) had run out, and the well in our compound was dangerously low on water. Samantha and I helped carry a few buckets that Mama managed to fill over to the outhouse. We were really scraping the bottom of the well—which isn’t pretty. Luckily it was night, so I couldn’t see very well what was in the buckets, but Mama’s friend did scoop some things out of it before handing me the bucket… It was late so we said goodnight and parted ways.
After internet, we went to White House as usual for lunch, but it took longer than usual, which meant we were late catching the 1:30pm tro-tro, which meant we wouldn’t get back to the village until probably 3:45pm. On our walk back to the tro-tro stop we took some candid pictures of Ho to show to you all once we’re home. One of which is a severe oxymoron in my opinion; I posed, smiling, in front of the… “stream.” The stream though is the exact stream you may remember that I described stepping on stones to get to the other side via Emil’s infamous short-cut. It was a milky teal green in color, saturated with sewage and garbage. The oxymoron part is my smile. It is a horrific site, and if you stand down wind, it can be a vomit-inducing scene. We also took a picture of the house nearby that a quarter of it is missing, burned at the edges from I can only assume a fire that swallowed that part of the house. People still live there, and every time we walk by, there are large metal barrels outside the house billowing smoke from whatever they’re burning. Perhaps the fate of the house was an occupational hazard of its inhabitants. A man named Ben saw us on the street, and exited his barbershop to introduce himself to us. He was friendly enough; for any American I would think this type of behavior is like seeing a fish out of water, or a teacher at the movie theater. Ghanaians are pretty friendly for the most part, and usually if you walk down the street, a handful will stop to say hello and ask where you’re from. Some pride themselves on “having friends in the US,” which really means they’ve met people just like you on the street and said hello. It’s a little unnerving at first, but you get used to it, and after a while, you welcome it since many people stare at you with somber expressions which can be slightly intimidating. Most of the time if you smile and wave first, they’ll return the gesture with just as many smiles, but some continue to glare.
We got to the tro-tro area just in time to see the 1:30pm tro-tro pull away, with Mama waving at us from the front seat! Samuel greeted us and told us to wait, since his tro-tro was next to depart. As it backed into position, Samantha snapped a picture, accidentally getting some man selling Fan Ice (sort of an ice cream pop) in the process who became quite irate that his photo was taken. His anger is captured well in the photo, but we did manage to calm him down enough. The ride home was hot, sweaty, and unbearably crowded as usual. Samantha sat next to the giant window and felt like she would fall out, just like me. She was giving me impromptu agriculture lessons by quizzing me on the kinds of trees we passed. I can now successfully identify banana trees, palm trees, and coconut trees. I mentioned that the view was pretty, which caused Samantha to turn toward me when we went over a bump, which then caused her to smack her head against the top of the window just in time for Samuel to look at us from the front and start laughing. Samantha and I were laughing too, but I could tell from the tears in her eyes it must have really hurt. The tro-tro slowed since there was a tree lying in the middle of the road. A man stood by it, and when the driver asked him to move it, he begrudgingly obliged as he exclaimed, “speed bump!” The rest of the ride was ok I guess if you’re going by tro-tro standards. The skinny man on my right sure was taking up a lot of room though. I couldn’t put rest both shoulders on the back of the seat, only one, squished behind Samantha’s shoulder.
Finally we made it home 15 minutes before we were supposed to meet the Primary 4-6 kids. Luckily no one showed up, so we stopped at Mama’s to say hello but she was lying down on a bench with a headache. I offered her some of my Excedrin, which seemed to help. We went home to take a nap and clean the dirt and sweat from Ho off our skin, but of course it’s impossible to simply be left alone. Apparently the headmaster told the children 5pm instead of 4pm, so at 4:50pm, a young girl showed up to make sure we were going back to the library. *sigh* We did, and by that time, I had a headache. The group of children were pretty well-behaved, and it did last almost an hour. We had them read a story of their choice from their designated shelf in the library, and then draw a picture from the story with some crayons we brought. It went well. Afterward, we came home, closed our door, and laid down to rest just after I consumed some Excedrin for myself.
We had rice and pavlava sauce for dinner, which was good—spicier than usual. I selfishly hoped Bright wouldn’t come by for computer training tonight since I just wanted to sleep. My headache wasn’t completely gone, and my stomach was aching. He did come though, with his sister so I supervised while they practiced typing. Mama brought her friend by for an interview, and afterward I showed Mama a picture of me and Sean on my laptop. She said “Hello Sean I will say hello to you when I come to the US!” She also said he was very handsome, and noticed his long hair. She said when he comes to visit her in Ghana, she will grow her hair long and shake her head, haha. I asked her if she saw her husband in Ho, but apparently his sister was renting a room to a young woman and her son, about Michael’s age (5). The child mysteriously died in the night and Mama’s husband went to inform the family. We also talked about Mama’s mother who seems to be having severe pains; she was diagnosed with breast cancer and did have one mastectomy, so Mama is confused why her mother is still having so much pain… The water in the barrel used for pouring down the toilet (to flush) had run out, and the well in our compound was dangerously low on water. Samantha and I helped carry a few buckets that Mama managed to fill over to the outhouse. We were really scraping the bottom of the well—which isn’t pretty. Luckily it was night, so I couldn’t see very well what was in the buckets, but Mama’s friend did scoop some things out of it before handing me the bucket… It was late so we said goodnight and parted ways.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Productivity Galore
So I did not sleep very well at all last night, tossing and turning from the heat, from nausea, from cramps, and the thought of having pee in the dark creepy crawly outhouse did not help either. When faced with a tough situation, I can usually adapt. However, when you’re tummy’s not feeling well and you have to visit the outhouse in the middle of the night, the flashlight is sometimes not your friend. As you squat being sure not to touch the seat, your only light is the flashlight, that you so carefully have aimed at a 6 inch lizard, or cockroach, or giant spider (the size of your palm) so you can keep an eye on their whereabouts while you do your business. Inevitably the creepy crawlies will move, and you follow them with your flashlight, obviously pulling all systems to a halt as you have a standoff with the creatures of the night. In the midst of adjusting your weight as your muscles start to ache from staying in the squatting position so long, the creepy crawlies will make their move and disappear momentarily. When you adjust the flashlight, yet another type of creepy crawly has come into vision with startling proximity. Eesh.
Back to the morning though, I cannot sleep if I think someone will be coming to our door anytime soon; I get anxious. Utterly exhausted, I trudged out of bed and waited for Sema or Mama to bring breakfast and shower water. Sema arrived with our ground nut soup and fresh pineapple, which I was pleased about. I was hoping for that as breakfast instead of porridge. I had meant to go back to sleep after our showers, but Samantha’s TIME Magazine caught my eye and I had a sudden urge to jump back into the real world with 2 week old news. Before I knew it, it was 10am—time to go hunt down interviewees again. I rolled my eyes at myself, frustrated that I didn’t plan news reading around my necessary nap.
We walked over to the roadside stand that acts as a general store to interview Peace (#1). It went fairly well, and quickly since her English wasn’t the best. Two of her children translated some for her, but not nearly enough to get in-depth information. Right next door, Peace (#2) the hairdresser sat with no customers, so we decided to spring her for an interview too. Her English was much better but still the interview didn’t take long. Samuel (from the tro-tro) had wandered over to Peace #1’s store and witnessed part of the interview, and while we interviewed Peace #2, he appeared again to tell us he had arranged for us to conduct a focus group of primary school teachers at the compound! I wasn’t expecting his assistance like that, but was very grateful.
The primary school teachers, though educated and spoke English well, were not incredibly forthcoming with details, so again the group went quickly. Afterward, we wanted to visit the JSS headmaster but he wasn’t there. Neither was the English teacher so we unsuccessfully tried to talk about the library with the teachers, but they clearly couldn’t care less about what we had to say. So, we settled for a relatively uninteresting focus group of the JSS teachers. They seem to think that opening the library for evening hours will make teenage pregnancy worse, because when the library closes, the kids might not go home… OK…
We came back home to relax and it only lasted about 10 minutes before Sema brought lunch—boiled cassava with pasta mixed with pavlava sauce. It was good, and just enough that put me over the edge of exhaustion. I curled up to take a nap, and was surprised by Michael and Mawufemor at the food of my bed, squeals and giggles announced their presence and expectation of play time. Samantha was totally out, laying on her bed in complete comfort and satisfaction. With a sigh, I got up to supervise the kids. The kids were dirty, wearing the clothes they wore two nights ago, and flies followed them. Jessica showed up to join us shortly as well, and the coloring session lasted about an hour and a half, during which a man named Vincent came by to be interviewed. Emil had set it up, and Vincent is apparently one of the kids’ teachers. He asked why they hadn’t been in school, which confused me since I thought their teacher was recovering from a stroke.
After the interview Mama appeared, quite angry with the kids and yelled at them in Ewe to go home and bathe. Apparently they had told her they were going to the toilet, and instead ran here. If they had told her the truth, she would have made them bathe before visiting. As they left, we realized it was time to head back to the school compound to conduct the reading session for primary 1-3 kids. I was dragging my feet, and really was not in the right mood or mindset to last an hour with a bunch of kids I didn’t know very well. Jessica, Michael, and Mawufemor are my favorites, and dirty or not, I love them all the time. Luckily, the children must have forgotten, so we got out of our obligation for the afternoon. We walked back home and closed the door—which is a barrier to all other than Mama and Sema—and settled in for a nap. Not two minutes later we had a knock at the door. It was Believe; she came to show us the skirts she was working on for us. They looked really nice; I’m excited to try them on when they’re done. She also agreed to be interviewed tomorrow evening. After she left, we shut the door again and I napped for a full hour—it was wonderful. When I woke up around 5:30pm, I was hungry, and I noticed the sky was getting dark; another storm was coming through. An ancient woman who reminds me of Rafiki from the Lion King (they have the same gait, the same crazy toothy smile, and the same tall walking stick) came by to borrow another children’s book. She had just finished reading the story of Balto, and was ready for another book. She reads about one book a week. Michael and Kofi arrived to wait out the rain with us—we must be so popular today… As they colored, I sat in the doorway soaking in the breeze that accompanied the night’s rain.
Sema and Mama brought sandwiches for dinner! Samantha and I were just talking about sandwiches yesterday. They were small, like sliders, made with thinly sliced sweet bread, and a single meat patty in the middle, similar to the ones we had last night. After dinner we ate our cocoa plant, and planned to relax the rest of the night. I am hoping that after an incredibly productive day (3 interviews and 2 focus groups), that we might have the night off to watch a movie by ourselves on my laptop, and go to bed early. Tomorrow we will go to Ho, and hopefully talk to Bismark about the money that Anyo should have gotten for each volunteer it hosted. We’ll go to White House for lunch, and visit the internet café. Emil had wanted us to visit the Education Office as well, but I think it would be best if that’s the solution that everyone at the Anyo meeting agrees on, a representative from Anyo should go to the Education Office themselves, possibly armed with a petition. They know the situation better than we do, and they are less likely to be shrugged off. We’ll see.
Back to the morning though, I cannot sleep if I think someone will be coming to our door anytime soon; I get anxious. Utterly exhausted, I trudged out of bed and waited for Sema or Mama to bring breakfast and shower water. Sema arrived with our ground nut soup and fresh pineapple, which I was pleased about. I was hoping for that as breakfast instead of porridge. I had meant to go back to sleep after our showers, but Samantha’s TIME Magazine caught my eye and I had a sudden urge to jump back into the real world with 2 week old news. Before I knew it, it was 10am—time to go hunt down interviewees again. I rolled my eyes at myself, frustrated that I didn’t plan news reading around my necessary nap.
We walked over to the roadside stand that acts as a general store to interview Peace (#1). It went fairly well, and quickly since her English wasn’t the best. Two of her children translated some for her, but not nearly enough to get in-depth information. Right next door, Peace (#2) the hairdresser sat with no customers, so we decided to spring her for an interview too. Her English was much better but still the interview didn’t take long. Samuel (from the tro-tro) had wandered over to Peace #1’s store and witnessed part of the interview, and while we interviewed Peace #2, he appeared again to tell us he had arranged for us to conduct a focus group of primary school teachers at the compound! I wasn’t expecting his assistance like that, but was very grateful.
The primary school teachers, though educated and spoke English well, were not incredibly forthcoming with details, so again the group went quickly. Afterward, we wanted to visit the JSS headmaster but he wasn’t there. Neither was the English teacher so we unsuccessfully tried to talk about the library with the teachers, but they clearly couldn’t care less about what we had to say. So, we settled for a relatively uninteresting focus group of the JSS teachers. They seem to think that opening the library for evening hours will make teenage pregnancy worse, because when the library closes, the kids might not go home… OK…
We came back home to relax and it only lasted about 10 minutes before Sema brought lunch—boiled cassava with pasta mixed with pavlava sauce. It was good, and just enough that put me over the edge of exhaustion. I curled up to take a nap, and was surprised by Michael and Mawufemor at the food of my bed, squeals and giggles announced their presence and expectation of play time. Samantha was totally out, laying on her bed in complete comfort and satisfaction. With a sigh, I got up to supervise the kids. The kids were dirty, wearing the clothes they wore two nights ago, and flies followed them. Jessica showed up to join us shortly as well, and the coloring session lasted about an hour and a half, during which a man named Vincent came by to be interviewed. Emil had set it up, and Vincent is apparently one of the kids’ teachers. He asked why they hadn’t been in school, which confused me since I thought their teacher was recovering from a stroke.
After the interview Mama appeared, quite angry with the kids and yelled at them in Ewe to go home and bathe. Apparently they had told her they were going to the toilet, and instead ran here. If they had told her the truth, she would have made them bathe before visiting. As they left, we realized it was time to head back to the school compound to conduct the reading session for primary 1-3 kids. I was dragging my feet, and really was not in the right mood or mindset to last an hour with a bunch of kids I didn’t know very well. Jessica, Michael, and Mawufemor are my favorites, and dirty or not, I love them all the time. Luckily, the children must have forgotten, so we got out of our obligation for the afternoon. We walked back home and closed the door—which is a barrier to all other than Mama and Sema—and settled in for a nap. Not two minutes later we had a knock at the door. It was Believe; she came to show us the skirts she was working on for us. They looked really nice; I’m excited to try them on when they’re done. She also agreed to be interviewed tomorrow evening. After she left, we shut the door again and I napped for a full hour—it was wonderful. When I woke up around 5:30pm, I was hungry, and I noticed the sky was getting dark; another storm was coming through. An ancient woman who reminds me of Rafiki from the Lion King (they have the same gait, the same crazy toothy smile, and the same tall walking stick) came by to borrow another children’s book. She had just finished reading the story of Balto, and was ready for another book. She reads about one book a week. Michael and Kofi arrived to wait out the rain with us—we must be so popular today… As they colored, I sat in the doorway soaking in the breeze that accompanied the night’s rain.
Sema and Mama brought sandwiches for dinner! Samantha and I were just talking about sandwiches yesterday. They were small, like sliders, made with thinly sliced sweet bread, and a single meat patty in the middle, similar to the ones we had last night. After dinner we ate our cocoa plant, and planned to relax the rest of the night. I am hoping that after an incredibly productive day (3 interviews and 2 focus groups), that we might have the night off to watch a movie by ourselves on my laptop, and go to bed early. Tomorrow we will go to Ho, and hopefully talk to Bismark about the money that Anyo should have gotten for each volunteer it hosted. We’ll go to White House for lunch, and visit the internet café. Emil had wanted us to visit the Education Office as well, but I think it would be best if that’s the solution that everyone at the Anyo meeting agrees on, a representative from Anyo should go to the Education Office themselves, possibly armed with a petition. They know the situation better than we do, and they are less likely to be shrugged off. We’ll see.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sunday Funday
I slept well last night, despite the 5 inch lizard running up and down the wall next to my bed. We slept late, until 6:45am! When I woke up, our shower buckets were already waiting for us in the shower area. We had porridge for breakfast; I added sugar cubes and the cinnamon I brought along as usual. The morning was somewhat slow, as most people in the village were at church, but in our compound Kofi’s mom was busy washing clothes and Koju Asafu was around as well so the compound wasn’t as quiet. At 9am, Hans finally came for his interview. He is always extremely quiet so I wasn’t sure of his English capabilities, but the night before he had assured me that his English was up to par. It wasn’t. Because of the language barrier, he answered questions with short responses that didn’t make sense. I was sure he didn’t understand what I was asking, but my numerous efforts to clarify went without any meaningful result. His interview lasted only 11 minutes, and as soon as it was over he jumped out of the seat and ran off to hang out with Richard. *sigh*
Soon after, Bright came by to practice typing, but was often sidetracked by curiosity of other games and programs on my laptop. I need to sit next to him to keep him focused, which selfishly is not the extra effort I want to expend on this trip. As much training as I give, it doesn’t make a difference since they don’t have working computers to practice on. He left after what seemed like a long while, and Samantha and I decided to take a much-needed walk. Our walk was probably about 2 miles up the road, just past the big tree. 50 minutes later we arrived back at the compound, dripping with sweat. No more noon-time walks, we decided. We discarded our saturated clothing, and laid down in front of the fan for a rest. Sema brought lunch, beans with gary. The beans are the same stewed white beans in palm oil that is half of the red-red dish with plantains, only this time it was just the beans and a small bag of gary, which is ground dry cassava. It looks and has the texture of uncooked dry grits, which you sprinkle on top of the beans… I ate only a tiny bit because the beans have a lot of palm oil in it.
After lunch we packed the laptop and my paperwork and decided to seek out interviewees. Our first stop was Richard’s place to assess whether Walter or Sema were home (both of whom are Richard’s immediate neighbors). I should note a fun fact: due to a suggestion of mine, Richard now wears a patch of gauze over his cancerous eye to avoid further infection and to pacify my disapproval of the dirty rag previously used to wipe his irritated eye. The fun fact part of this is he has no tape, so he wrapped a white cloth around his head, with one eye hole cut out for his good eye. In a sense, he looks like a ninja turtle with a white eye mask. Walter wasn’t home, but Sema was in her compound washing clothes. We waited a little while until she finished before she could sit down and be interviewed. While we waited, we watched Selom and another boy play soccer with a deflated ball, dodging a large and protective new mother hen and her 7 brand new chicks. The chickens and roosters in Sema’s yard are significantly larger than any others in the village. The roosters reminded me of that old Looney Toons cartoon with the giant white rooster. They got a little too close for my comfort. Sema’s porch is also completed; when I was here last she was in the middle of construction on half of her house. Her compound is shaded and breezy so it was nice to just sit and relax away from our own. Sema lives there with Selom (her nephew whom she is the guardian of) and a cousin. She surprised us with two small bottles of chilled coke and we began the interview. The interview was also relatively short and lacked some depth because of the language barrier, but it was enough to get by.
Once we finished Sema’s interview, we walked to Believe’s house to interview her, but were told she had gone to the neighboring village. We went to Peace’s store but she was busy, so Mama asked Michael to lead us to another house. After about 50 feet, Michael forgot he was leading the way and started walking next to me, and then slowly started walking behind me. I slowed so he could take the lead, and then he slowed as well. We were crawling through the village and he would stop and pick up a flower or a leaf, and look up and smile… I had to remind him constantly by asking where we were going and asking him to show me. It took forever to reach the house only to find that no one was home. But Michael was a loyal little guide and then showed us to Cassandra’s house, where Cassandra and Jessica came running to greet us. We sat and visited a short while, and Cassandra agreed to come to our compound later in the evening for her interview. As we sat, Cassandra started to nurse Christopher and I forgot how… natural it is for women to openly nurse. Christopher was paying more attention to us than her so for a little while her breast just hung there. Jessica ran over and grabbed it, shaking it in front of Christopher’s face and when he still didn’t take the nipple, Jessica pinched the loose skin on her mother’s breast and lifted the breast back into her mother’s shirt, all while Cassandra engaged in conversation with us. I knew what Samantha must have been thinking: “this is so National Geographic,” but as for me, I don’t know, I guess I just understand that’s the way things are here. I should mention that a woman and two other men and one other small child were all sitting with us.
Jessica cheerfully followed us back to Mama’s house, where squealing and running and playing commenced between Michael, Jessica, and Mawufemor, with Cicho looking on in wonderment trying to keep up. Samantha and I sat in two plastic chairs facing the chaos, though we were quickly deemed “home base;” the girls would fall into our laps when Michael chased them, giggling and squealing as loud as possible. It was a riot to watch. We sat in the middle of the compound, while Mama prepared fufu in the corner. Between us were 3 men butchering meat from a newly slaughtered goat on the small wooden table usually designated as the children’s eating area. They cut the meat with a dull machete while two other women looked on. The children were running and screaming in circles around all of us. The table was bloody and had many remnants of meat that had already been cut. There must have been 40 flies at least swarming the men and the meat on the table as the men placed small portions of the cut meat into plastic bags to sell. I couldn’t stop staring at the flies on the meat. Mama invited us to eat some fufu with her, 5 feet away from the butchering table. We accepted and I tried not to look at the fly covered pieces of bloody goat directly to my right… The fufu was really good, and Samantha liked it, to my surprise. We only tried a little bit and decided we should probably go home in case anyone came by for an interview.
We walked back to our compound, hoping that Believe, Peace, and Cassandra would all appear this evening for their interviews. We ran into Samuel on the road and he agreed to be interviewed right then, so we sat on our front steps and got some pretty good information from him. He sat with a friend of his, a girl who appeared out of school since her hair had started to grow; all school children through Senior Secondary School are required to keep their hair shaved for uniformity—boys and girls. Samuel is 26 and the girl seemed somewhere between 18 and 24. Their English was good, and they were interested in continuing our conversation until well after the interview was over. They asked if people from the village took time to hang out with us, but we sadly said no, not really. Only Mama really seems to spend time with us and want to talk to us. Even Emil seems to only do so out of obligation. I’m hoping that Sam and his friend will visit us more often. It started to rain so we said goodbye and Samantha and I stepped inside just before the rain became heavy.
After a few minutes, Michael, Jessica, and Mawufemor showed up, soaking wet from the rain. I gave them a towel to dry off, sat them on the floor, took out my laptop and started a movie—Finding Nemo. It was a success, and before long, Samantha and I were just as engrossed in the film as the kids were. Michael was down in front. Jessica was on the right side of my lap, with Mawufemor on my left, each cuddled up for most of the movie. It was really cute to watch their reactions. After the movie we ate dinner—rice with red sauce and some type of patty resembling a thin crab cake but made with canned beef, peppers, egg, and spices. It was pretty good. Just after dinner, Cassandra appeared with Kosi, Jessica, and little Christopher on her back. Kosi acted as the interpreter, though I’m sure he answered a few questions himself rather than his mother’s thoughts. Again, the interview went relatively quickly, and afterward we visited for a little while. Kosi is ¾ through Twilight, reading much faster than I’d expected. Michael, Jessica, Kofi, and Mawufemor all laid quietly on the floor while the interview was conducted so when it was over I quizzed them on numbers using my UNO cards. They said goodnight, and before long Mama showed up to visit, with a sleeping Cicho on her back.
I really like our conversations with Mama. She is so candid with us, and I feel like she truly enjoys our company. We joke and laugh, and seem to understand each other more so than with anyone else here. We talked about how I’ve gotten more interviews with men completed than women because the women are always busy; the women work on the farm, watch the kids, prepare the meals, bathe the children and clean the compound, and wash the clothes… while the men work on the farm and then come home and relax for the rest of the day and evening. We talked about her husband, Francis, who currently is in Ho, staying with a friend and looking for work. She hasn’t seen him in two months, but they talk every day. He was working with lumber and wood, but whoever had been in charge neglected to obtain the correct permit, which resulted in all of the workers being arrested, and the wood (that they invested in) was confiscated. The investment, the time, and the employment were all lost in one fatal swoop. There’s no work still, which puts Mama and her family in a precarious position. There was a very small bonding moment when we talked about have long-distance relationships. Mama listens so well; she remembers things I told her a week ago—names and circumstance of my life back home—things that no one else here seems to care to ask about let alone remember. She brought up Sean by name, which surprised me, but she spoke so easily I forgot that we’d only been friends for two weeks now. It was comforting in a way. It was late, around 9:30pm, so she bid goodnight and Samantha and I got ready for bed. Though some were short on length and information, I was pleased we completed four interviews today. I only need 3 more men and 5 more women to interview and then I’m all done with interviews. Then I’ll have to start on doing a couple focus groups if I can. *sigh* I so do not want to be a researcher when I grow up. It gets boring after a while. I’d rather just play all day.
Soon after, Bright came by to practice typing, but was often sidetracked by curiosity of other games and programs on my laptop. I need to sit next to him to keep him focused, which selfishly is not the extra effort I want to expend on this trip. As much training as I give, it doesn’t make a difference since they don’t have working computers to practice on. He left after what seemed like a long while, and Samantha and I decided to take a much-needed walk. Our walk was probably about 2 miles up the road, just past the big tree. 50 minutes later we arrived back at the compound, dripping with sweat. No more noon-time walks, we decided. We discarded our saturated clothing, and laid down in front of the fan for a rest. Sema brought lunch, beans with gary. The beans are the same stewed white beans in palm oil that is half of the red-red dish with plantains, only this time it was just the beans and a small bag of gary, which is ground dry cassava. It looks and has the texture of uncooked dry grits, which you sprinkle on top of the beans… I ate only a tiny bit because the beans have a lot of palm oil in it.
After lunch we packed the laptop and my paperwork and decided to seek out interviewees. Our first stop was Richard’s place to assess whether Walter or Sema were home (both of whom are Richard’s immediate neighbors). I should note a fun fact: due to a suggestion of mine, Richard now wears a patch of gauze over his cancerous eye to avoid further infection and to pacify my disapproval of the dirty rag previously used to wipe his irritated eye. The fun fact part of this is he has no tape, so he wrapped a white cloth around his head, with one eye hole cut out for his good eye. In a sense, he looks like a ninja turtle with a white eye mask. Walter wasn’t home, but Sema was in her compound washing clothes. We waited a little while until she finished before she could sit down and be interviewed. While we waited, we watched Selom and another boy play soccer with a deflated ball, dodging a large and protective new mother hen and her 7 brand new chicks. The chickens and roosters in Sema’s yard are significantly larger than any others in the village. The roosters reminded me of that old Looney Toons cartoon with the giant white rooster. They got a little too close for my comfort. Sema’s porch is also completed; when I was here last she was in the middle of construction on half of her house. Her compound is shaded and breezy so it was nice to just sit and relax away from our own. Sema lives there with Selom (her nephew whom she is the guardian of) and a cousin. She surprised us with two small bottles of chilled coke and we began the interview. The interview was also relatively short and lacked some depth because of the language barrier, but it was enough to get by.
Once we finished Sema’s interview, we walked to Believe’s house to interview her, but were told she had gone to the neighboring village. We went to Peace’s store but she was busy, so Mama asked Michael to lead us to another house. After about 50 feet, Michael forgot he was leading the way and started walking next to me, and then slowly started walking behind me. I slowed so he could take the lead, and then he slowed as well. We were crawling through the village and he would stop and pick up a flower or a leaf, and look up and smile… I had to remind him constantly by asking where we were going and asking him to show me. It took forever to reach the house only to find that no one was home. But Michael was a loyal little guide and then showed us to Cassandra’s house, where Cassandra and Jessica came running to greet us. We sat and visited a short while, and Cassandra agreed to come to our compound later in the evening for her interview. As we sat, Cassandra started to nurse Christopher and I forgot how… natural it is for women to openly nurse. Christopher was paying more attention to us than her so for a little while her breast just hung there. Jessica ran over and grabbed it, shaking it in front of Christopher’s face and when he still didn’t take the nipple, Jessica pinched the loose skin on her mother’s breast and lifted the breast back into her mother’s shirt, all while Cassandra engaged in conversation with us. I knew what Samantha must have been thinking: “this is so National Geographic,” but as for me, I don’t know, I guess I just understand that’s the way things are here. I should mention that a woman and two other men and one other small child were all sitting with us.
Jessica cheerfully followed us back to Mama’s house, where squealing and running and playing commenced between Michael, Jessica, and Mawufemor, with Cicho looking on in wonderment trying to keep up. Samantha and I sat in two plastic chairs facing the chaos, though we were quickly deemed “home base;” the girls would fall into our laps when Michael chased them, giggling and squealing as loud as possible. It was a riot to watch. We sat in the middle of the compound, while Mama prepared fufu in the corner. Between us were 3 men butchering meat from a newly slaughtered goat on the small wooden table usually designated as the children’s eating area. They cut the meat with a dull machete while two other women looked on. The children were running and screaming in circles around all of us. The table was bloody and had many remnants of meat that had already been cut. There must have been 40 flies at least swarming the men and the meat on the table as the men placed small portions of the cut meat into plastic bags to sell. I couldn’t stop staring at the flies on the meat. Mama invited us to eat some fufu with her, 5 feet away from the butchering table. We accepted and I tried not to look at the fly covered pieces of bloody goat directly to my right… The fufu was really good, and Samantha liked it, to my surprise. We only tried a little bit and decided we should probably go home in case anyone came by for an interview.
We walked back to our compound, hoping that Believe, Peace, and Cassandra would all appear this evening for their interviews. We ran into Samuel on the road and he agreed to be interviewed right then, so we sat on our front steps and got some pretty good information from him. He sat with a friend of his, a girl who appeared out of school since her hair had started to grow; all school children through Senior Secondary School are required to keep their hair shaved for uniformity—boys and girls. Samuel is 26 and the girl seemed somewhere between 18 and 24. Their English was good, and they were interested in continuing our conversation until well after the interview was over. They asked if people from the village took time to hang out with us, but we sadly said no, not really. Only Mama really seems to spend time with us and want to talk to us. Even Emil seems to only do so out of obligation. I’m hoping that Sam and his friend will visit us more often. It started to rain so we said goodbye and Samantha and I stepped inside just before the rain became heavy.
After a few minutes, Michael, Jessica, and Mawufemor showed up, soaking wet from the rain. I gave them a towel to dry off, sat them on the floor, took out my laptop and started a movie—Finding Nemo. It was a success, and before long, Samantha and I were just as engrossed in the film as the kids were. Michael was down in front. Jessica was on the right side of my lap, with Mawufemor on my left, each cuddled up for most of the movie. It was really cute to watch their reactions. After the movie we ate dinner—rice with red sauce and some type of patty resembling a thin crab cake but made with canned beef, peppers, egg, and spices. It was pretty good. Just after dinner, Cassandra appeared with Kosi, Jessica, and little Christopher on her back. Kosi acted as the interpreter, though I’m sure he answered a few questions himself rather than his mother’s thoughts. Again, the interview went relatively quickly, and afterward we visited for a little while. Kosi is ¾ through Twilight, reading much faster than I’d expected. Michael, Jessica, Kofi, and Mawufemor all laid quietly on the floor while the interview was conducted so when it was over I quizzed them on numbers using my UNO cards. They said goodnight, and before long Mama showed up to visit, with a sleeping Cicho on her back.
I really like our conversations with Mama. She is so candid with us, and I feel like she truly enjoys our company. We joke and laugh, and seem to understand each other more so than with anyone else here. We talked about how I’ve gotten more interviews with men completed than women because the women are always busy; the women work on the farm, watch the kids, prepare the meals, bathe the children and clean the compound, and wash the clothes… while the men work on the farm and then come home and relax for the rest of the day and evening. We talked about her husband, Francis, who currently is in Ho, staying with a friend and looking for work. She hasn’t seen him in two months, but they talk every day. He was working with lumber and wood, but whoever had been in charge neglected to obtain the correct permit, which resulted in all of the workers being arrested, and the wood (that they invested in) was confiscated. The investment, the time, and the employment were all lost in one fatal swoop. There’s no work still, which puts Mama and her family in a precarious position. There was a very small bonding moment when we talked about have long-distance relationships. Mama listens so well; she remembers things I told her a week ago—names and circumstance of my life back home—things that no one else here seems to care to ask about let alone remember. She brought up Sean by name, which surprised me, but she spoke so easily I forgot that we’d only been friends for two weeks now. It was comforting in a way. It was late, around 9:30pm, so she bid goodnight and Samantha and I got ready for bed. Though some were short on length and information, I was pleased we completed four interviews today. I only need 3 more men and 5 more women to interview and then I’m all done with interviews. Then I’ll have to start on doing a couple focus groups if I can. *sigh* I so do not want to be a researcher when I grow up. It gets boring after a while. I’d rather just play all day.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Half Way
It’s the half-way mark today; we’ve been here for 2 weeks, and 2 weeks from today we’ll be sitting at the Kotaka Airport in Accra waiting to board our plane home. All in all, I am glad I came, but I definitely have mixed feelings about everything that’s happened here. There are some major disappointments, and as much as I want to try, I personally don’t have the capacity or manpower to support successful projects. I would like to hope that the few things we are trying to do here will pay off in some way, but I really have no idea whether it will. I would like to say that every little bit helps, but at the same time I see so much going to waste, and so little effort on the part of the community to fix the problems they so easily complain about. I know it takes more than just a few visits to really make a difference, but I do also feel that some people here are willing to just accept how things are, and continue to complain about money. I really hope the new administration in Ghana will step up to challenge of caring for its rural populations. Many people have said that government policies are implemented only in the urban areas, and never trickle down to reach rural populations.
Samantha and I have a lot to do this week. I have 12 more interviews to complete by Wednesday. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday we have more study sessions with the kids from 4-5pm each day. Monday we will be meeting with the JSS headmaster to discuss the issue of children not comprehending English, and to suggest he collaborates with area JSS heads with better academic records and that he holds his teachers accountable for their work. I hope also to meet again with the chief to see where we stand regarding volunteer chaperones of the library so it can hold evening hours a few days a week. I am also going to talk to the chief about the JSS headmaster and the teachers… we’ll see how that goes… Tuesday we will be going to Ho, and I’m going to try to talk to the manager at the regional Education Office about getting the Circuit Supervisors to thoroughly involve themselves in assessing the schools.
We are planning a trip to Cape Coast, to leave Thursday, and come back on Sunday. The following week will be our last, and we plan to use one day to possibly visit a monkey sanctuary, and also use a couple days to conduct 2 focus groups. I’ll be very surprised if we get more than 2 focus groups done. As of right now, I’m exhausted from doing nothing all day. I think I’ll go to bed early. It’s 8pm…
Samantha and I have a lot to do this week. I have 12 more interviews to complete by Wednesday. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday we have more study sessions with the kids from 4-5pm each day. Monday we will be meeting with the JSS headmaster to discuss the issue of children not comprehending English, and to suggest he collaborates with area JSS heads with better academic records and that he holds his teachers accountable for their work. I hope also to meet again with the chief to see where we stand regarding volunteer chaperones of the library so it can hold evening hours a few days a week. I am also going to talk to the chief about the JSS headmaster and the teachers… we’ll see how that goes… Tuesday we will be going to Ho, and I’m going to try to talk to the manager at the regional Education Office about getting the Circuit Supervisors to thoroughly involve themselves in assessing the schools.
We are planning a trip to Cape Coast, to leave Thursday, and come back on Sunday. The following week will be our last, and we plan to use one day to possibly visit a monkey sanctuary, and also use a couple days to conduct 2 focus groups. I’ll be very surprised if we get more than 2 focus groups done. As of right now, I’m exhausted from doing nothing all day. I think I’ll go to bed early. It’s 8pm…
Slowest. Day. Ever.
There was a funeral this morning in Saviefe, two villages over from Gbogame. I’ve been told people dress in red and black, and after the burial and condolences, everyone celebrates with lots of drumming and dancing. We were supposed to go this morning, but Mama forgot about us so we were left behind. While the village was eerily quiet, we napped until 10am. Bright, age 19 and in JSS 2 (7th grade), came to visit around noon. He showed us his school book for computer class. Mind you, they don’t actually touch a computer. The book is a how-to type of book regarding how to turn a computer off and on, with pictures of screenshots as examples. The book, a little smaller than a composition notebook, explained what a computer was, along with its origin and a list in the back of 4 types of Pentium IV computers, Dell and Gateway among them. I asked Bright if he would like to be interviewed… even though he was still in JSS, he was over 18, so I thought it would be ok. The interview went well enough, I did have to stop and rephrase my questions because he didn’t understand the English I was using, but all in all it went well. After the interview we were talking and to my livid surprise, Bright explained that Anyo Group had sold the four previously donated new laptops for three ancient desktop computers that are now in the library. I tried to contain myself. The computers in the library are questionable regarding their functionality. The electricity hasn’t worked in the library since we’ve been here, and Hans seems always too busy to fix it. When we arrived, we were asked to test the computers to make sure they worked… I wonder when the last time someone did check, or if they bought the computers without checking. Not to mention, I wonder where the rest of the money went after selling four new laptops. I started to have a conniption so I ended the conversation and let Bright practice typing on my laptop for a little while.
Sam and I ate our pineapple that we got in Ho yesterday. We tried to eat the fruit slightly slower than we ate the mango, but only stretched it out to maybe one minute. It was really good, warm, fresh and juicy. Sema brought boiled cassava with pavlava sauce for lunch, which was really good but a little heavy on the palm oil. The palm oil is red when it seeps out from under your food into a pool on your plate. She also surprised us with two cocoa plants, which aren’t ripe just yet but we were so glad she brought them. I ate a little bit of the cassava and pavlava, cautious of what it would do to my stomach later. After lunch we sat outside. The air was cooler than usual and the bugs weren’t around. I tried to calm the negative feelings I had from the conversation with Bright. I saw Koju and he agreed to be interviewed at 4pm, so we took another nap to kill some time.
Koju Asafu reminds me of my late grandfather in so many ways. They’re about the same build, they have the same gait, and the same twinkle in their eye. They have the same trousers, grey and creased in the front with an iron, and when you ask one question, they’ll talk all day giving you detailed play-by-plays of their life. And if they tell you a story, they pause at the end to raise their eyebrows and smile a little smile, and wait for you to be ready for the punch line. Koju’s interview began at 3:30pm, I think it was 15 minutes before I could ask the first question because he was telling me the chronology of his accomplishments, each school and training, his first job, his second job offer, how he managed to leave the first job, etc., all with their corresponding months and years. A wise and sweet old man, he will be turning 80 this September. While most interview transcripts have averaged 1000 words, Koju’s transcript rested at 2500 words, with his interview lasting 90 minutes, twice as long as intended. But I did get some good information from his experiences.
After the interview, Samantha and I decided to take advantage of the cool air and lack of humidity so we took a walk down the road to the big tree. It was really nice, and a few people stopped to say hello. There were several motorbikes and tro-tros that we had to jump out of their way, but I guess more people go out on Saturday evenings… On our way back, we decided to stop at Mama’s house for a visit. We were craving some time outside our compound. There we sat while Mama wrapped tiny bags of ground nuts she’d just finished roasting. The kids had just finished eating, and Michael was in the middle of bathing himself by the edge of the compound, just inside their rock wall. Mawufemor, as little as she is, was taking care of things quite well. She washed Cicho’s hands, and after carrying a bucket and basin as big as her, she carefully washed the dishes one by one. Michael’s job is to round up the goats to put them in their pen at night. He does this with a little food in one hand, waiting very patiently, and then grabs a goat’s leg when they close. He leads them as if he’s holding the goat’s hand; the goats don’t seem to mind their leg awkwardly sticking out like it’s disconnected from the socket as they continue to calmly walk on the other 3 legs quite agilely. One goat had a rope tied on it, and it circled Michael twice very quickly, wrapping up Michael’s legs and knocking him to the ground. Cicho is more animated with us now; he recognizes us and plays a Cicho version of peek-a-boo, and hides himself behind a bamboo stick… so inconspicuous. Mama bathed Cicho, covered him in baby powder, put on his jammies and wrapped in up onto her back. Then it was Mawufemor’s turn for a bath. It was comforting to be around Mama’s family during their evening routine. It reminded me of appreciating the important things. We took our leave, and found that Sema had left dinner (jollof rice) back at our room. We ate most of it in hopes she’ll see the empty bowl and make it again soon.
Sam and I ate our pineapple that we got in Ho yesterday. We tried to eat the fruit slightly slower than we ate the mango, but only stretched it out to maybe one minute. It was really good, warm, fresh and juicy. Sema brought boiled cassava with pavlava sauce for lunch, which was really good but a little heavy on the palm oil. The palm oil is red when it seeps out from under your food into a pool on your plate. She also surprised us with two cocoa plants, which aren’t ripe just yet but we were so glad she brought them. I ate a little bit of the cassava and pavlava, cautious of what it would do to my stomach later. After lunch we sat outside. The air was cooler than usual and the bugs weren’t around. I tried to calm the negative feelings I had from the conversation with Bright. I saw Koju and he agreed to be interviewed at 4pm, so we took another nap to kill some time.
Koju Asafu reminds me of my late grandfather in so many ways. They’re about the same build, they have the same gait, and the same twinkle in their eye. They have the same trousers, grey and creased in the front with an iron, and when you ask one question, they’ll talk all day giving you detailed play-by-plays of their life. And if they tell you a story, they pause at the end to raise their eyebrows and smile a little smile, and wait for you to be ready for the punch line. Koju’s interview began at 3:30pm, I think it was 15 minutes before I could ask the first question because he was telling me the chronology of his accomplishments, each school and training, his first job, his second job offer, how he managed to leave the first job, etc., all with their corresponding months and years. A wise and sweet old man, he will be turning 80 this September. While most interview transcripts have averaged 1000 words, Koju’s transcript rested at 2500 words, with his interview lasting 90 minutes, twice as long as intended. But I did get some good information from his experiences.
After the interview, Samantha and I decided to take advantage of the cool air and lack of humidity so we took a walk down the road to the big tree. It was really nice, and a few people stopped to say hello. There were several motorbikes and tro-tros that we had to jump out of their way, but I guess more people go out on Saturday evenings… On our way back, we decided to stop at Mama’s house for a visit. We were craving some time outside our compound. There we sat while Mama wrapped tiny bags of ground nuts she’d just finished roasting. The kids had just finished eating, and Michael was in the middle of bathing himself by the edge of the compound, just inside their rock wall. Mawufemor, as little as she is, was taking care of things quite well. She washed Cicho’s hands, and after carrying a bucket and basin as big as her, she carefully washed the dishes one by one. Michael’s job is to round up the goats to put them in their pen at night. He does this with a little food in one hand, waiting very patiently, and then grabs a goat’s leg when they close. He leads them as if he’s holding the goat’s hand; the goats don’t seem to mind their leg awkwardly sticking out like it’s disconnected from the socket as they continue to calmly walk on the other 3 legs quite agilely. One goat had a rope tied on it, and it circled Michael twice very quickly, wrapping up Michael’s legs and knocking him to the ground. Cicho is more animated with us now; he recognizes us and plays a Cicho version of peek-a-boo, and hides himself behind a bamboo stick… so inconspicuous. Mama bathed Cicho, covered him in baby powder, put on his jammies and wrapped in up onto her back. Then it was Mawufemor’s turn for a bath. It was comforting to be around Mama’s family during their evening routine. It reminded me of appreciating the important things. We took our leave, and found that Sema had left dinner (jollof rice) back at our room. We ate most of it in hopes she’ll see the empty bowl and make it again soon.
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