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…