The night I got back to Bormase after posting my last blog entry, I biked uphill from the junction lugging all my my food etc. and arrived just in time for dinner. Exhausted, I was looking forward to eating, bathing and going to sleep. At dinner, Dorothy decided (for the second straight night) to speak to me in only Krobo and ignore anything that I said in English. If I asked a question, she would turn to other members at the table, say something in Krobo and enjoy a good laugh. After two weeks away from site, already anxious about my loss of language skills, I didn't react well. I raised my voice (maybe the first time since I've been there?) and told her how I didn't appreciate her doing what she was doing. She told me that she's explained certain things to me in Krobo several times and I still don't remember them. I kept the conversation civil and told her that I'm trying but that I'm not able to converse in only Krobo. She agreed to speak in English moving forward but I was still very upset. I went to bed worried that my presence wasn't appreciated and that my relationship with my host family was on the way towards being spoiled.
Just a quick look at the confusion that is the Krobo language.
gbe - dog
Ma gbe mo - I will beat you
O nge gbe ye lo? - Are you scared?
E gbe nya - It's finished
Please notice that gbe is used in four different ways. It's pronounced the same each time. Gbe is definitely not the only word in the language that has various meanings. I'm no savant when it comes to language but I am definitely trying and improving. We'll see how it progresses.
In the morning, I went early to Patrick's house to help make some new beads. We sat and worked all day while mixing in small Krobo lessons and discussing possible projects for the future. I joked and laughed with Patrick's children and several visitors as they came by the house. The general feeling was so far from the feeling at my own house and it was a great relief. I ended the day with a nice, exhausting football practice. Stephen approached me in the evening and asked about what had transpired the previous evening and I explained that I was tired and really didn't appreciate the approach that Dorothy took. Stephen suggested that we meet with Emmanuel and have him tell his wife to act differently. Stephen has been talking about how Dorothy's constant yelling is exhausting and hurts the general feeling of the house. I told him that I'm sure it's in response to the constant financial stress she's under and the fact that she's in charge of keeping a house running while 7 children are in the house. For now I'll bite the bullet and spend more time away from the house. I know that it will be better for me and I imagine that Dorothy will get some extra rest with one less person in the house.
On Saturday morning, I returned to Patrick's for some more bead work. I helped fill some molds with glass powder, talked with Patrick about other plans for the upcoming year and relaxed. While returning from an errand to my house, I stopped by the borehole and hung out with some of the younger children of the area. Despite the weather, it's really beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Children are home from school and everyone is going around town with big smiles and happy greetings. I played with the kids for a while (pictures coming, the internet here is too slow) and returned to Patrick's for what turned out to be an afternoon of playing board games. We played a Ghanaian game that is somewhat similar to Sorry. The relaxed nature and constant joking made me feel more at home than I've felt since moving to Bormase. I seldom feel out of place but until this past week, I haven't felt like a real member of the community. It's a wonderful feeling!!
As I walked back into the compound surrounding my house, I saw two young children playing on the veranda with their mother. This is far from an uncommon site as children are coming by the house all day but as I got closer, I saw that Atta and Lahweh were back with their mother Hannah. When I was first assigned to stay in Bormase, one of the most exciting prospects of the post was the opportunity to live with these twins while they grew from 18 months to three and a half years old. Unfortunately, they moved away just after Chrismas last year. Now, they're back for Christmas and my abundant joy was met with sheer terror from both twins. For the next several hours, every time I was in view, both children would scream and run away crying. When Atta or Lahweh walked into the courtyard, they'd check my door and then sprint to where they were going. At dinner, thy crying began as I walked up to the table and lasted until I had finished eating. Just before leaving the table, I put out my hand and each of the twins stopped crying and slapped a hand in mine for a good handshake.
The next morning, both twins cried and ran the first time they saw me. Within a few hours, we were chatting away in garbled Krobo and having a good time (more pictures to come). Yesterday afternoon, a large wedding ceremony was held at the local primary school. A football match was also scheduled so I arrived at the site around 3pm for the match. A few days prior, I helped prepare the field by holding a new piece of bamboo atop the goal posts. The previous crossbar had spoiled and we had to trim a new piece of bamboo and nail it on as the new crossbar. Other players cut sticks from nearby trees and staked the net into the ground by bashing them with large flat rocks. Compared to the pre-game ritual in high school where metal stakes and velcro straps attached a pristine net to a perfectly sized goal frame, this was far less precise but much more fun.
The opposing team arrived for the 3pm match at 5pm, just as the local team was dividing into two sides based on preference of Ghanaian club football clubs (Accra Hearts of Oak vs. Ashanti Kotoko). Donated St. Ignatius uniforms were finally going to be put to use but just prior to kickoff, the opposing team showed up in white jerseys and we were forced to abandon our town game and sport blue replica Manchester United jerseys.
With the wedding celebration coming to a close, the match got underway with a huge fan base and no shortage of inebriated fans (plus one referee and several players). The scrappy game ended in a 1-1 draw. A poorly cleared ball by the Bormase keeper allowed an open net put back early in the match but our side persevered and knotted the score at 1-1 as the sun was about to set. A few of my shots narrowly missed the mark but at the end of the match, I received hearty handshakes from both teams.
I'm now buying some last minute provisions as I won't have another opportunity before my American visitors arrive.
With nowhere to go but up following the conversation with Dorothy, things managed to go up and up and up throughout the week.
Love and Happy Holidays to all.
Ira
PS: Somehow, Kua is actually NOT pregnant.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Inconvenient security
For several months now, some of my PC cohorts and I have been discussing the idea of attending Festival au Desert in Mali from January 8-10. The concert presents numerous toureg artists and last year received a cameo appearance from none other than Robert Plant. In the months leading up to the show, the website was updated and showed that the price had jumped dramatically from last year. A fellow volunteer and I traded e-mails with one of the concert organizers and offered our services as volunteers in exchange for a reduced rate. A former language trainer with Peace Corps Mali, the contact seemed very interested in helping but told us that the decision would have to wait.
With the standfast situation surrounding the upcoming run-off election, I was resigned to the fact that I wouldn't be able to attend the concert without incredibly strenuous travel involved. The standfast ends on Jan 2nd and I would have to travel great distances (the full distance would only take one long day of driving with American cars and roads) for several days straight if I hoped to make it to Timbuctou by January 7th. Either way, if the news came that we could attend for free, I was ready to give it a shot. Today, as I sat down to my e-mail, I saw that I'd received e-mails from the Peace Corps Safety and Security Officer as well as from the concert organizer. We were approved to receive free admission in exchange for our work but at the same time, we were forbidden from traveling to Northern Mali because of recent kidnappings and other safety concerns. Again, though I'm happy that my safety is being taken into account, it can put a serious damper on planning ahead.
On another note, I'd like to share some of todays mishaps with you. The longer I'm in Ghana, the less I notice the strange things that used to irk, frighten or disgust me. To help keep irksome, frightening or disgusting situations from occurring more often, I seldom look in a mirror. After eating breakfast, packing my bags, washing up and putting on sunscreen for my day in Koforidua, I looked through the mess that is my desk in order to find my phone. While searching through the pile of clothes and papers, I came across my small mirror and noticed that I had a very solid sunscreen uni-brow going on. I wonder how often I walk around with food in my teeth or on my face. Ignorance is bliss in that regard.
When it came to lunchtime, I decided to mix things up a bit and try share my business with an entrepreneurial woman who has been selling what appear to be egg salad sandwiches on the roadside. For 70 pesewas, I got macaroni salad and baked beans between to fat pieces of bread (in Ghana, ketchup, baked beans and mayonnaise are very welcome condiments). I bit into the sandwich and wasn't as pleased as I expected but thought I'd stick with it. As I continued to eat and wonder what was wrong with my food, I looked between the fluffy pieces of bread and saw a solid chunk of fish meat with skin and scales attached. Very unappealing!! These situations are far from uncommon but are definitely worth sharing. One more thing; I've been patting myself on the back regarding my ability to adjust to the climate. Now that I've entered my second December at site, I realize that the change in season has helped more than anything. I once again break a sweat without moving. I soak through nearly every inch of my clothing after an hour of work on the farm. It's very hard to sleep at night because of the still, blanketing heat.
Yet another thing, while writing the blog, I took a sip from my Nalgene water bottle and got a pleasant surprise. I drank a bean that fell into the bottle during last night's dinner. That should be strange right? At this point, it's free fiber and protein!!!
Love to all
Ira
With the standfast situation surrounding the upcoming run-off election, I was resigned to the fact that I wouldn't be able to attend the concert without incredibly strenuous travel involved. The standfast ends on Jan 2nd and I would have to travel great distances (the full distance would only take one long day of driving with American cars and roads) for several days straight if I hoped to make it to Timbuctou by January 7th. Either way, if the news came that we could attend for free, I was ready to give it a shot. Today, as I sat down to my e-mail, I saw that I'd received e-mails from the Peace Corps Safety and Security Officer as well as from the concert organizer. We were approved to receive free admission in exchange for our work but at the same time, we were forbidden from traveling to Northern Mali because of recent kidnappings and other safety concerns. Again, though I'm happy that my safety is being taken into account, it can put a serious damper on planning ahead.
On another note, I'd like to share some of todays mishaps with you. The longer I'm in Ghana, the less I notice the strange things that used to irk, frighten or disgust me. To help keep irksome, frightening or disgusting situations from occurring more often, I seldom look in a mirror. After eating breakfast, packing my bags, washing up and putting on sunscreen for my day in Koforidua, I looked through the mess that is my desk in order to find my phone. While searching through the pile of clothes and papers, I came across my small mirror and noticed that I had a very solid sunscreen uni-brow going on. I wonder how often I walk around with food in my teeth or on my face. Ignorance is bliss in that regard.
When it came to lunchtime, I decided to mix things up a bit and try share my business with an entrepreneurial woman who has been selling what appear to be egg salad sandwiches on the roadside. For 70 pesewas, I got macaroni salad and baked beans between to fat pieces of bread (in Ghana, ketchup, baked beans and mayonnaise are very welcome condiments). I bit into the sandwich and wasn't as pleased as I expected but thought I'd stick with it. As I continued to eat and wonder what was wrong with my food, I looked between the fluffy pieces of bread and saw a solid chunk of fish meat with skin and scales attached. Very unappealing!! These situations are far from uncommon but are definitely worth sharing. One more thing; I've been patting myself on the back regarding my ability to adjust to the climate. Now that I've entered my second December at site, I realize that the change in season has helped more than anything. I once again break a sweat without moving. I soak through nearly every inch of my clothing after an hour of work on the farm. It's very hard to sleep at night because of the still, blanketing heat.
Yet another thing, while writing the blog, I took a sip from my Nalgene water bottle and got a pleasant surprise. I drank a bean that fell into the bottle during last night's dinner. That should be strange right? At this point, it's free fiber and protein!!!
Love to all
Ira
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Merry Standfast
After finishing mid-service medical, I went to Bunso Coco College for the second annual All Volunteer Conference. Last year, the meeting was based around the Office of the Inspector General investigation and ended with the departure of at least five volunteers. Despite the negative overtones of last year's conference, volunteers raved about it's relevance and pushed strongly for the implementation of an annual meeting.
This year, the meeting was scheduled to coincide with Ghana's Presidential election and also happened to work well as a hand-off from Bob (old Country Director) to Mike (new Country Director). The meeting allowed 90 volunteers to convene in one place and hash out any any major complains or worries that may be lingering.
Enough of the conference was related to HIV/AIDS related topics for it to fall under the umbrella of PEPFAR and received funding. Most volunteers dreaded the idea of yet another PEPFAR meeting but the agenda was very interactive and the schedule was far less grueling than expected.
Complaints were shared from all sides, rumors were dispelled and ultimate frisbee and soccer were played each afternoon. The occasionally segregated teacher and omnibus volunteers bonded at a Peace Corps prom and during an impromptu talent show. Some of the quieter volunteers shared some incredible talents that were shocking to all.
As many of us expected, the Presidential election was too close to call (by constitutional parameters) with the NPP receiving just over 49 percent and the NDC receiving just under 49 percent. There will be a run-off on December 28th and due to civil unrest leading up to and following run-off elections in Ghana and other African nations, all volunteers will be required to stay at or near their respective sites from December 24th through January 2nd. Though most volunteers understand that the restriction has been mandated as a way to ensure our safety, many were bummed by the requirement that we spend Christmas and New Years away from friends and fun vacation spots. With my sister Martha's inevitably awesome vacation scheduled for Dec. 26 through Jan. 10, my plans have been thrown into the spin-cycle and plans are up in the air.
Yesterday, Florida Senator Bill Nelson sat down with any and all volunteers who were available in Accra. He has been on an intelligence mission throughout Africa and was willing to sit with us and discuss any pressing issues. He asked about our primary projects and told us about his appreciation for the Peace Corps and his vision for future growth. We had a great time chatting and we got to eat CHEESE!!! Honestly though, Senator Nelson was incredibly appreciative of our work and he wasn't visibly fazed by the fact that our dressiest clothing included sweaty, wrinkled clothing and open toed sandals. Today, I'll go back to the reality of Ghana and get back to work.
If you have time, please take a look at my friend Jon's Peace Corps Partnership Project proposal. Jon's village is in need of more easily accessible drinking water. Any donations are tax deductible and will go a long way. Thanks.
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=641-250
Love to all,
Ira
This year, the meeting was scheduled to coincide with Ghana's Presidential election and also happened to work well as a hand-off from Bob (old Country Director) to Mike (new Country Director). The meeting allowed 90 volunteers to convene in one place and hash out any any major complains or worries that may be lingering.
Enough of the conference was related to HIV/AIDS related topics for it to fall under the umbrella of PEPFAR and received funding. Most volunteers dreaded the idea of yet another PEPFAR meeting but the agenda was very interactive and the schedule was far less grueling than expected.
Complaints were shared from all sides, rumors were dispelled and ultimate frisbee and soccer were played each afternoon. The occasionally segregated teacher and omnibus volunteers bonded at a Peace Corps prom and during an impromptu talent show. Some of the quieter volunteers shared some incredible talents that were shocking to all.
As many of us expected, the Presidential election was too close to call (by constitutional parameters) with the NPP receiving just over 49 percent and the NDC receiving just under 49 percent. There will be a run-off on December 28th and due to civil unrest leading up to and following run-off elections in Ghana and other African nations, all volunteers will be required to stay at or near their respective sites from December 24th through January 2nd. Though most volunteers understand that the restriction has been mandated as a way to ensure our safety, many were bummed by the requirement that we spend Christmas and New Years away from friends and fun vacation spots. With my sister Martha's inevitably awesome vacation scheduled for Dec. 26 through Jan. 10, my plans have been thrown into the spin-cycle and plans are up in the air.
Yesterday, Florida Senator Bill Nelson sat down with any and all volunteers who were available in Accra. He has been on an intelligence mission throughout Africa and was willing to sit with us and discuss any pressing issues. He asked about our primary projects and told us about his appreciation for the Peace Corps and his vision for future growth. We had a great time chatting and we got to eat CHEESE!!! Honestly though, Senator Nelson was incredibly appreciative of our work and he wasn't visibly fazed by the fact that our dressiest clothing included sweaty, wrinkled clothing and open toed sandals. Today, I'll go back to the reality of Ghana and get back to work.
If you have time, please take a look at my friend Jon's Peace Corps Partnership Project proposal. Jon's village is in need of more easily accessible drinking water. Any donations are tax deductible and will go a long way. Thanks.
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=641-250
Love to all,
Ira
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
A real deal meal
While in the north, Cheri and I saw some of her neighbors peeling what
appeared to be good large potatoes. Having eaten our share of various
yam varieties over the last year, we were ready to pick up some normal
potatoes and maybe make some french fries for a snack. Cheri's
assemblyman assured us that the legumes were to bitter to eat and he
showed us the traditional way the food is prepared. The food is pealed
and ground very fine before being soaked in water. The water is poured
out and the process is repeated until the bitterness is gone. The
remaining gooey white starch is then fried and eaten with some variety
of oily soup (that can be assumed in Ghana). Feeling adventurous,
Cheri and I bought one of the "potatoes" along with a sweet potato and
were ready to see what we could manage.
After frying and seasoning the tuber, we served it up and were ready
to give it a shot. Before biting down, the oil and seasoning had me
convinced that we had done a good job. I wasn't even able to chew the
failed french fry twice before spitting it out. The Assemblyman was
right, this food was FAR too bitter to eat as it was. Rather than
feeling defeated, I was deeply impressed with the effort and
determination that must be put into food preparation in such an
unforgiving climate.
A few days later, as I sat in Accra on the day before Thanksgiving, I
couldn't help but marvel at the stark difference between North and
South. I had a cheeseburger for lunch and for sheer novelty sake, a
group of us ate cat kebabs for dinner (it's not commonly available but
a restaurant owner offered to make some for us). Within an hour of our
cat kebab feast, two bloodied volunteers came into the Swissrest
(Peace Corps bunk room in Accra) to tell us that they had been walking
down the road and not 50 meters from the entrance to the Swissrest, a
man leaned out of the passenger window of a car and grabbed the bag of
a 60 year old volunteer. The volunteer walking next to the victim
instantly tried to grab the bag back and the two men were drug on the
road alongside the car for 20-30 feet as it sped off with bag in tow.
This happened at 7pm with a number of cars and onlookers around. Never
a dull moment.
With no serious physical damage, the two scraped up volunteers joined
as 36 volunteers joined the embassy workers, Fullbright Scholars and
Marines at the Ambassador's house for Thanksgiving dinner. We arrived
a little after noon and were treated to juice, beer wine and hors d
oeuvres and were given access to the swimming pool. One volunteer
drank too much and another walked around the outdoor dining area with
bare feet while wearing only swim trunks but all around the day was
great. The Ambassador has spent 23 years in the foreign service and
has just begun his first stint as an Ambassador. His friend and former
boss (the Ambassador to South Africa) was also in attendance and
offered interesting insight to the upcoming election and World Cup in
South Africa.
Dinner was server at around 2pm and there was more than enough food
for the sixty guests. We ate Turkey with stuffing and three types of
gravy. We had green beans, mashed potatoes, salad, cornbread and a
corn pudding that was based on the Ambassador's wife's family recipe.
I ate two servings while sitting next to and chatting with the
Ambassador before he got up and urged the cooking staff to provide
dessert. We ate pumpkin pie, pecan pie and a type of chocolate cake
before all was said and done. While chatting with the various guests,
I met my host for the evening and at around 4:30pm, a fellow volunteer
and I left the festivities behind. Our Country Director set up lodging for all volunteers so I shared a home with a fellow volunteer, a USAID worker and the worker's two children. Ms. Friedman, our host, had been working for USAID in Ghana for 4 months and was a very gracious host. In fact, we lucked out to the point that we were guests for a second turkey dinner. Families streamed in throughout the evening and by dinner time, I had shared Peace Corps stories with three RPCVs and chatted with spouses from Sierra Leone, Angola and the UK. We talked about Peace Corps life and we talked about life in the world of development work. Perhaps the most interesting part of the evening was sitting between children and adults at the dinner table (more Turkey, stuffing etc. to the point that I was happily ready to burst) and hearing how the children would complain about the prospect of visiting Kente cloth villages and bead making sites because they'd be away from friends and perhaps out of cell phone coverage. I guess you can take the teen out of America without changing the priorities.
The day after Thanksgiving started with real coffee and a bowl of cereal with cold milk (luxury!!) and was followed by a meeting with another former Peace Corps Volunteer. For a few months, I have traded e-mails with my APCD, fellow volunteers and an RPCV from the late 60's regarding a halfway house in Accra. The RPCV has lived throughout Africa for around thirty years and is now starting a halfway house in Accra and hopes to receive help from current volunteers. Travis and I met this man and discussed the prospect of introducing snail rearing, mushroom cultivation and the growing of Moringa. The goal is to establish a safe place for recovering alcoholics to stay while providing them with income generating activities. The idea seems feasible but between a day at the Ambassador's house and a day with a well established RPCV with expendible income for projects, I started to lose my bearing regarding capacity building and low income projects. I had a great time and did my best to put weight back on (I'm still 18 lbs. lighter than I was when I arrived) but I was very ready to get back to Bormase.
I spent two days in Bormase before returning to Accra for mid-service medical. I've now spent three days providing one urine sample, three stool samples and receiving my first dental cleaning in 16 months. From here, I'm headed to the all volunteer conference near the training site in Kukurantumi where we'll all be consolidated in preparation for any problems related to the December 7th election. I predict a run-off but hope for no serious problems. At this point, all one can do is hope that things run smoothly and that peace is maintained.
That's all for now.
Love to all
Ira
appeared to be good large potatoes. Having eaten our share of various
yam varieties over the last year, we were ready to pick up some normal
potatoes and maybe make some french fries for a snack. Cheri's
assemblyman assured us that the legumes were to bitter to eat and he
showed us the traditional way the food is prepared. The food is pealed
and ground very fine before being soaked in water. The water is poured
out and the process is repeated until the bitterness is gone. The
remaining gooey white starch is then fried and eaten with some variety
of oily soup (that can be assumed in Ghana). Feeling adventurous,
Cheri and I bought one of the "potatoes" along with a sweet potato and
were ready to see what we could manage.
After frying and seasoning the tuber, we served it up and were ready
to give it a shot. Before biting down, the oil and seasoning had me
convinced that we had done a good job. I wasn't even able to chew the
failed french fry twice before spitting it out. The Assemblyman was
right, this food was FAR too bitter to eat as it was. Rather than
feeling defeated, I was deeply impressed with the effort and
determination that must be put into food preparation in such an
unforgiving climate.
A few days later, as I sat in Accra on the day before Thanksgiving, I
couldn't help but marvel at the stark difference between North and
South. I had a cheeseburger for lunch and for sheer novelty sake, a
group of us ate cat kebabs for dinner (it's not commonly available but
a restaurant owner offered to make some for us). Within an hour of our
cat kebab feast, two bloodied volunteers came into the Swissrest
(Peace Corps bunk room in Accra) to tell us that they had been walking
down the road and not 50 meters from the entrance to the Swissrest, a
man leaned out of the passenger window of a car and grabbed the bag of
a 60 year old volunteer. The volunteer walking next to the victim
instantly tried to grab the bag back and the two men were drug on the
road alongside the car for 20-30 feet as it sped off with bag in tow.
This happened at 7pm with a number of cars and onlookers around. Never
a dull moment.
With no serious physical damage, the two scraped up volunteers joined
as 36 volunteers joined the embassy workers, Fullbright Scholars and
Marines at the Ambassador's house for Thanksgiving dinner. We arrived
a little after noon and were treated to juice, beer wine and hors d
oeuvres and were given access to the swimming pool. One volunteer
drank too much and another walked around the outdoor dining area with
bare feet while wearing only swim trunks but all around the day was
great. The Ambassador has spent 23 years in the foreign service and
has just begun his first stint as an Ambassador. His friend and former
boss (the Ambassador to South Africa) was also in attendance and
offered interesting insight to the upcoming election and World Cup in
South Africa.
Dinner was server at around 2pm and there was more than enough food
for the sixty guests. We ate Turkey with stuffing and three types of
gravy. We had green beans, mashed potatoes, salad, cornbread and a
corn pudding that was based on the Ambassador's wife's family recipe.
I ate two servings while sitting next to and chatting with the
Ambassador before he got up and urged the cooking staff to provide
dessert. We ate pumpkin pie, pecan pie and a type of chocolate cake
before all was said and done. While chatting with the various guests,
I met my host for the evening and at around 4:30pm, a fellow volunteer
and I left the festivities behind. Our Country Director set up lodging for all volunteers so I shared a home with a fellow volunteer, a USAID worker and the worker's two children. Ms. Friedman, our host, had been working for USAID in Ghana for 4 months and was a very gracious host. In fact, we lucked out to the point that we were guests for a second turkey dinner. Families streamed in throughout the evening and by dinner time, I had shared Peace Corps stories with three RPCVs and chatted with spouses from Sierra Leone, Angola and the UK. We talked about Peace Corps life and we talked about life in the world of development work. Perhaps the most interesting part of the evening was sitting between children and adults at the dinner table (more Turkey, stuffing etc. to the point that I was happily ready to burst) and hearing how the children would complain about the prospect of visiting Kente cloth villages and bead making sites because they'd be away from friends and perhaps out of cell phone coverage. I guess you can take the teen out of America without changing the priorities.
The day after Thanksgiving started with real coffee and a bowl of cereal with cold milk (luxury!!) and was followed by a meeting with another former Peace Corps Volunteer. For a few months, I have traded e-mails with my APCD, fellow volunteers and an RPCV from the late 60's regarding a halfway house in Accra. The RPCV has lived throughout Africa for around thirty years and is now starting a halfway house in Accra and hopes to receive help from current volunteers. Travis and I met this man and discussed the prospect of introducing snail rearing, mushroom cultivation and the growing of Moringa. The goal is to establish a safe place for recovering alcoholics to stay while providing them with income generating activities. The idea seems feasible but between a day at the Ambassador's house and a day with a well established RPCV with expendible income for projects, I started to lose my bearing regarding capacity building and low income projects. I had a great time and did my best to put weight back on (I'm still 18 lbs. lighter than I was when I arrived) but I was very ready to get back to Bormase.
I spent two days in Bormase before returning to Accra for mid-service medical. I've now spent three days providing one urine sample, three stool samples and receiving my first dental cleaning in 16 months. From here, I'm headed to the all volunteer conference near the training site in Kukurantumi where we'll all be consolidated in preparation for any problems related to the December 7th election. I predict a run-off but hope for no serious problems. At this point, all one can do is hope that things run smoothly and that peace is maintained.
That's all for now.
Love to all
Ira
Monday, November 24, 2008
Urban garden in rural Ghana
Now that you know that Kua is doing well, I think it's appropriate that I update what I'm actually doing. After a few days with the trainees (I was scheduled to help facilitate a cross sector training session but ended up overseeing more than doing anything) and playing basketball for the first time in over a year (I made my first shot but air balled the second and many others terribly) I had just enough time to do some weeding before traveling north. Harmattan season has arrived and Northern Ghana is quickly approaching dry season. While the south of Ghana only suffers a few months without consistent rain, the three northern regions suffer through as many as five dry months each year.
Two days of travel brought me past stocked market towns and to the fast-drying north. I left Kumasi at 3am one day, left Tamale at 5am the following day and arrived in Kpendua around noon. After greeting cheifs, elders and other important people, I sat in on a Women's Group meeting and Cheri and I conducted an HIV/AIDS lesson for the local football team. 25 teen aged males gathered at the local clinic at 8pm for the lesson. We asked questions to gauge the general knowledge and later did our best to dispel rumors that HIV/AIDS is restricted to people living in big cities. As expected, the first few questions (after translation) were greeted with silence, the group warmed up to us and by the end, questions were flowing and several attendees were able to perform a proper condom demonstration only fifteen minutes after I made one of my own.
Yesterday (Sunday) morning, some local farmers gathered at Cheri's house at 8am for some farming techniques. I showed the group how to maximize space and efficiency during the dry season by using some urban farming techniques. As a group, we filled an empty 45 kilogram rice sack with soil and chicken manure with rocks stacked through the middle (water follows the path of the rocks and spreads more easily toward the bottom of the bag). We then cut holes around the outside of the bag and put seeds in each hole. As the seeds germinate, the seedlings will seek sunlight and grow out the side of the bag. While taking only four square feet of floor space, we were able to make space for nearly thirty seeds (pepper and onion). We also made a seedbed for other seeds in case the initial planting is not successful. The second lesson consisted of the preparation of manure tea (sounds appetizing right?). The group used chicken manure (I actually traveled through the country with at least 20 lbs. of chicken manure in my duffel bag) and wrapped it in fabric. The fabric was then suspended inside a bucket of water and covered with a clear sheet of plastic. The manure tea will sit for two weeks and after that time will have drawn nutrients from the manure and will be ready to spread on the farm.
Since I live in the fertile south, it's very difficult to convince farmers that there are more efficient ways to go about their daily work. When working in the north, where each and every farmer struggles to maintain a respectable farm, the lesson was received incredibly well. I fielded a series of questions and sent many farmers away happy with what onion seeds remained.
I'm having a hard time gaining traction at my own site and my time in Kpendua was very refreshing. I'll travel to Accra for Thanksgiving (at the Ambassador's house) and then return to Bormase fresh.
I trudged through a swamped Tamale market today (a political rally brought thousands of spectators and their motorbikes) and I'm really dragging now. I'll be up at 4:30am tomorrow and have a 15 hour bus ride to look forward to.
Love to all
Ira
Two days of travel brought me past stocked market towns and to the fast-drying north. I left Kumasi at 3am one day, left Tamale at 5am the following day and arrived in Kpendua around noon. After greeting cheifs, elders and other important people, I sat in on a Women's Group meeting and Cheri and I conducted an HIV/AIDS lesson for the local football team. 25 teen aged males gathered at the local clinic at 8pm for the lesson. We asked questions to gauge the general knowledge and later did our best to dispel rumors that HIV/AIDS is restricted to people living in big cities. As expected, the first few questions (after translation) were greeted with silence, the group warmed up to us and by the end, questions were flowing and several attendees were able to perform a proper condom demonstration only fifteen minutes after I made one of my own.
Yesterday (Sunday) morning, some local farmers gathered at Cheri's house at 8am for some farming techniques. I showed the group how to maximize space and efficiency during the dry season by using some urban farming techniques. As a group, we filled an empty 45 kilogram rice sack with soil and chicken manure with rocks stacked through the middle (water follows the path of the rocks and spreads more easily toward the bottom of the bag). We then cut holes around the outside of the bag and put seeds in each hole. As the seeds germinate, the seedlings will seek sunlight and grow out the side of the bag. While taking only four square feet of floor space, we were able to make space for nearly thirty seeds (pepper and onion). We also made a seedbed for other seeds in case the initial planting is not successful. The second lesson consisted of the preparation of manure tea (sounds appetizing right?). The group used chicken manure (I actually traveled through the country with at least 20 lbs. of chicken manure in my duffel bag) and wrapped it in fabric. The fabric was then suspended inside a bucket of water and covered with a clear sheet of plastic. The manure tea will sit for two weeks and after that time will have drawn nutrients from the manure and will be ready to spread on the farm.
Since I live in the fertile south, it's very difficult to convince farmers that there are more efficient ways to go about their daily work. When working in the north, where each and every farmer struggles to maintain a respectable farm, the lesson was received incredibly well. I fielded a series of questions and sent many farmers away happy with what onion seeds remained.
I'm having a hard time gaining traction at my own site and my time in Kpendua was very refreshing. I'll travel to Accra for Thanksgiving (at the Ambassador's house) and then return to Bormase fresh.
I trudged through a swamped Tamale market today (a political rally brought thousands of spectators and their motorbikes) and I'm really dragging now. I'll be up at 4:30am tomorrow and have a 15 hour bus ride to look forward to.
Love to all
Ira
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Updates all around
The first update is in regards to my last blog. To show you how far from intuitive the phonetics of Krobo are, please not that Mayim is actually spelled Ngmayem. Oops.
The adventures of Kua have continued and show no signs of slowing down. I went to Kukurantumi (the new training site) last Saturday for the trainer vs. trainee football match. I successfully left the house without rousing Kua but as I biked down the road, I realized that I had forgotten my cleats and would have to go back. I got back and was greeted by a very excited Kua. I asked Paul to hold her back while I biked away but as I looked back, I saw that the wily dog had given him the slip and was in hot pursuit. Since I was on a nice bicycle and was going 5K on a mostly downhill road, I decided I simply outrun the dog and she'd have to turn back. I sped my way down the road and after a few minutes, I saw no signs of her behind me. I arrived at the junction and dropped my bike at a friends house before walking the last 50 meters to the roadside. When I got to the road, I was met by a limping, out of breath Kua. I was shocked!! I was moving at a fairly fast pace and Kua is not only short legged but is also pregnant. That's right, despite the debacle that was my trip to Kumasi for a spaying, Kua is pregnant.
A few months ago, I was confused as to why so many male dogs were lingering around the house. I've had female dogs in the past but I've obviously never lived among so many stray dogs. I thought that maybe the spaying would keep Kua from conceiving but wouldn't keep male dogs from chasing after her. Each time I'd return from time away from site, I'd find at least one dog following Kua everywhere she went. I chased and shooed them away and after some time I figured that the dogs had gotten tired of being chased. Wrong again! The deed had been done. A few weeks ago, Kua's milk glands started growing noticeably and it seems that she's now only a month or so away from delivery. I was initially annoyed but now realize that I'll have 2 months with puppies running around my house. I spoke about the prospect of puppies with Stephen and he let me know that one of the cats is also pregnant. The Bormase family continues to grow.
And I digress. Rather than biking 5k uphill with Kua, I decided to travel with her to the football match. She was tired enough to be less of a hassle but as you can imagine, a white man carrying a dog in his arms (I don't let her walk around on unknown busy streets) gets some funny looks.
This years training group couldn't hold a candle to ours and the match was a lopsided 7-3. The highlight was having a chief play goalkeeper for our team. Nana, the nephew of the Ashanti King and the chief of Anamasi, fearlessly defended the net for the last 15 minutes of our match. Only a penalty kick got past him.
Kua laid lazily on the sideline and limped behind me after the match. After a thorough inspection, I saw that she had worn holes into the padding of her paws. She was so anxious to follow me on my bicycle that she wore holes in her paws.
The trip home was interesting. Kua and I arrived at the junction in the middle of the day (it's HOT this time of year) and she limped slowly behind me. Each time we found the slightest bit of shade, I would stop and allow her to burrow in the cool soil and pant away for a few minutes. The trip took over an hour but was nice. I can't overwork the pregnant Kua.
P.S. Between my time in Kumasi and my return to Bormase, I developed a series of blisters on my left elbow. The first day, I had a curling red line with one blister. On the second day, I had no fewer than five blisters along the line. I thought that it may be a worm so I ate pawpaw seeds (local de-wormer) and also took a proper de-wormer but saw no signs of improvement. I've since applied a warm compress and the blisters have gone away. I'll send pictures to the medical office to be sure it's nothing that will come pack but it sure was ugly!!
Love to all.
Ira
The adventures of Kua have continued and show no signs of slowing down. I went to Kukurantumi (the new training site) last Saturday for the trainer vs. trainee football match. I successfully left the house without rousing Kua but as I biked down the road, I realized that I had forgotten my cleats and would have to go back. I got back and was greeted by a very excited Kua. I asked Paul to hold her back while I biked away but as I looked back, I saw that the wily dog had given him the slip and was in hot pursuit. Since I was on a nice bicycle and was going 5K on a mostly downhill road, I decided I simply outrun the dog and she'd have to turn back. I sped my way down the road and after a few minutes, I saw no signs of her behind me. I arrived at the junction and dropped my bike at a friends house before walking the last 50 meters to the roadside. When I got to the road, I was met by a limping, out of breath Kua. I was shocked!! I was moving at a fairly fast pace and Kua is not only short legged but is also pregnant. That's right, despite the debacle that was my trip to Kumasi for a spaying, Kua is pregnant.
A few months ago, I was confused as to why so many male dogs were lingering around the house. I've had female dogs in the past but I've obviously never lived among so many stray dogs. I thought that maybe the spaying would keep Kua from conceiving but wouldn't keep male dogs from chasing after her. Each time I'd return from time away from site, I'd find at least one dog following Kua everywhere she went. I chased and shooed them away and after some time I figured that the dogs had gotten tired of being chased. Wrong again! The deed had been done. A few weeks ago, Kua's milk glands started growing noticeably and it seems that she's now only a month or so away from delivery. I was initially annoyed but now realize that I'll have 2 months with puppies running around my house. I spoke about the prospect of puppies with Stephen and he let me know that one of the cats is also pregnant. The Bormase family continues to grow.
And I digress. Rather than biking 5k uphill with Kua, I decided to travel with her to the football match. She was tired enough to be less of a hassle but as you can imagine, a white man carrying a dog in his arms (I don't let her walk around on unknown busy streets) gets some funny looks.
This years training group couldn't hold a candle to ours and the match was a lopsided 7-3. The highlight was having a chief play goalkeeper for our team. Nana, the nephew of the Ashanti King and the chief of Anamasi, fearlessly defended the net for the last 15 minutes of our match. Only a penalty kick got past him.
Kua laid lazily on the sideline and limped behind me after the match. After a thorough inspection, I saw that she had worn holes into the padding of her paws. She was so anxious to follow me on my bicycle that she wore holes in her paws.
The trip home was interesting. Kua and I arrived at the junction in the middle of the day (it's HOT this time of year) and she limped slowly behind me. Each time we found the slightest bit of shade, I would stop and allow her to burrow in the cool soil and pant away for a few minutes. The trip took over an hour but was nice. I can't overwork the pregnant Kua.
P.S. Between my time in Kumasi and my return to Bormase, I developed a series of blisters on my left elbow. The first day, I had a curling red line with one blister. On the second day, I had no fewer than five blisters along the line. I thought that it may be a worm so I ate pawpaw seeds (local de-wormer) and also took a proper de-wormer but saw no signs of improvement. I've since applied a warm compress and the blisters have gone away. I'll send pictures to the medical office to be sure it's nothing that will come pack but it sure was ugly!!
Love to all.
Ira
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Mayim and more
As you all know, the world has changed since I last posted. I'll let the pundits comment on the political changes while I do my best to catch you up to speed on the happenings of my life in Ghana.
Blake and I led a one hour session on Moringa at training. We spoke to about 45 new trainees and at least a dozen Ghanaian Peace Corps trainers about all aspects of Moringa. Aside from a loose outline, I pretty much winged the presentation and I feel that it went very well. A number of great questions were asked and I was reminded again of how much I've actually learned while in Ghana. Questions such as "How do we plant the seed?" shocked me at first but also made me realize that despite my title as an Agro-Forestry Volunteer, I really didn't have much experience planting anything before I arrived. The new group seems great and will definitely be a good addition to Peace Corps Ghana. After 5 week, they have not had anyone leave. I wonder if it's that they all really like it or if they're worried to be the first person to go. In our group, it took only 36 hours or so for somebody to leave and the stigma was gone almost immediately. We shall see.
I went straight from the training site to Cape Coast to meet up with Cheri and two of her friends from America. I saw Elmina Castle (I didn't see it with my Dad) and though the tour wasn't as thorough or interesting, it was still shocking to think that 12 million slaves had walked through the same grounds and 8 million of them were shipped away alive. Aside from the 12 million that actually arrived at Elmina (it started out as a trade hub for gold and other minerals) countless more died during the southern trek. Some walked for as many as 8 months before arriving at the coast. The numbers are astonishing and the cells are frighteningly small. At Cape Coast Castle, 200 men were held in a single room for 3 months before being shipped off. A mark on the wall (as high as my knee) shows how high the feces, vomit and urine would get before the slaves were moved. Men literally wasted away in their own filth below a ceiling that served as the floor on which other men attended church services. Simply amazing.
After Cheri's friends left, she and I went back to Bormase for some farming and relaxation. She and I helped the family harvest Cassava. We helped Paul and Tekuor (pronounced like Techwoah) on four round trips from farm. The four of us loaded sacks and baskets with the heavy tubers and walked the 400+ meter bush path with the loads on our head. 11 year old Paul (he looks maybe 8) easily matched me with the load he carried.
Cheri also helped me weed my Moringa farm. The Caterpillar rope (that's the name of the evil weeds that dominate my farm) has been completely cleared from half of the farm and I'm motivated to finish the job when I return.
On October 30, Stephen, Lydie, Maku, Eva, Tekuor, Paul, Cheri and I traveled to Krobo mountain for Mayim, an annual Krobo festival. The first Krobo people to live in Ghana moved from Nigeria and settled on Krobo mountain in the late 1800s. Every year, Krobos from around the area climb the mountain and celebrate their ancestry. The crowd was very young and excited. Compared to the festivals in Cheri's village, the feel was completely different. Up north, traditional clothing is worn and since her village is nearly 100% Muslim, there is no alcohol present. At Mayim, people wore provocative clothing and were drinking heavily.
Our Bormase group met up with some of Stephen's friends and started our hike. It was scorching hot and the mountain was steep but not terribly strenuous. We hung out with at least a hundred other Ghanaians at the peak and relaxed while enjoying the day. We sat for at hour or two before hiking back down. As usual, I heard greetings of "Obruni," and "Blefono," the whole way down. Being able to respond with somewhat witty replies in each language really diffused the situation and lightened the mood. I'm not very strong in Krobo and I'm quite weak in Twi but any response works when I'm expected to be completely clueless.
Once we all reached the bottom, we met at a central location before breaking off in small groups to join the huge crowd for some dancing and celebration. At one point, Cheri and I decided to go into the heart of the crowd so that we could get a true sense of the celebration. Up to that point, we had been a bit reserved for fear of having our pockets picked. To avoid such a situation, I took my wallet and camera from my pockets and put them in my backpack. I gave the backpack to Paul with the idea that he'd stay with the group and protect my items. When Cheri and I got to the middle of the crowd, we turned to find Paul only a few paces behind us with my bag slung across his chest. Recognizing the danger of the situation, we immediately started back to our central meeting point. On the way, several groups of Ghanaians stepped in front of us to engage Obrunis in dancing. No more than twenty feet from the rest of our group, a woman started shouting and pointing at a commotion nearby. When I got closer, I saw that Paul was holding my backpack but had had the small pocket ripped open by a thief. My personal items were strewn on the ground and I could see random items in various hands. I pushed and grabbed and even ripped the shirt of a man while retrieving my camera. The melee didn't allow me time to think so I have no idea whether I was scuffling with friends of foes. I guess a 6'3" blond guy in a sea of sub six foot Ghanaians serves as a beacon of hope for thieves.
In the end, my wallet and a small white first aid kit (must have looked nice) were gone and the thief got away. While taking stock of my items, we realized that Stephen and Tekuor (she's 11 or 12) had left the group. It was getting dark and we had no way to figure out where they were. In the end, we decided to walk to the roadside and hope that they'd have a similar idea. We came across Tekuor in the company of a pair of helpful strangers and found Stephen at the roadside. A potentially disastrous situation resulted in only a lost wallet and money. Nothing irreparably damaged.
Since then, Obama has been elected president and I can't think of a thing to complain about.
Love to all.
Blake and I led a one hour session on Moringa at training. We spoke to about 45 new trainees and at least a dozen Ghanaian Peace Corps trainers about all aspects of Moringa. Aside from a loose outline, I pretty much winged the presentation and I feel that it went very well. A number of great questions were asked and I was reminded again of how much I've actually learned while in Ghana. Questions such as "How do we plant the seed?" shocked me at first but also made me realize that despite my title as an Agro-Forestry Volunteer, I really didn't have much experience planting anything before I arrived. The new group seems great and will definitely be a good addition to Peace Corps Ghana. After 5 week, they have not had anyone leave. I wonder if it's that they all really like it or if they're worried to be the first person to go. In our group, it took only 36 hours or so for somebody to leave and the stigma was gone almost immediately. We shall see.
I went straight from the training site to Cape Coast to meet up with Cheri and two of her friends from America. I saw Elmina Castle (I didn't see it with my Dad) and though the tour wasn't as thorough or interesting, it was still shocking to think that 12 million slaves had walked through the same grounds and 8 million of them were shipped away alive. Aside from the 12 million that actually arrived at Elmina (it started out as a trade hub for gold and other minerals) countless more died during the southern trek. Some walked for as many as 8 months before arriving at the coast. The numbers are astonishing and the cells are frighteningly small. At Cape Coast Castle, 200 men were held in a single room for 3 months before being shipped off. A mark on the wall (as high as my knee) shows how high the feces, vomit and urine would get before the slaves were moved. Men literally wasted away in their own filth below a ceiling that served as the floor on which other men attended church services. Simply amazing.
After Cheri's friends left, she and I went back to Bormase for some farming and relaxation. She and I helped the family harvest Cassava. We helped Paul and Tekuor (pronounced like Techwoah) on four round trips from farm. The four of us loaded sacks and baskets with the heavy tubers and walked the 400+ meter bush path with the loads on our head. 11 year old Paul (he looks maybe 8) easily matched me with the load he carried.
Cheri also helped me weed my Moringa farm. The Caterpillar rope (that's the name of the evil weeds that dominate my farm) has been completely cleared from half of the farm and I'm motivated to finish the job when I return.
On October 30, Stephen, Lydie, Maku, Eva, Tekuor, Paul, Cheri and I traveled to Krobo mountain for Mayim, an annual Krobo festival. The first Krobo people to live in Ghana moved from Nigeria and settled on Krobo mountain in the late 1800s. Every year, Krobos from around the area climb the mountain and celebrate their ancestry. The crowd was very young and excited. Compared to the festivals in Cheri's village, the feel was completely different. Up north, traditional clothing is worn and since her village is nearly 100% Muslim, there is no alcohol present. At Mayim, people wore provocative clothing and were drinking heavily.
Our Bormase group met up with some of Stephen's friends and started our hike. It was scorching hot and the mountain was steep but not terribly strenuous. We hung out with at least a hundred other Ghanaians at the peak and relaxed while enjoying the day. We sat for at hour or two before hiking back down. As usual, I heard greetings of "Obruni," and "Blefono," the whole way down. Being able to respond with somewhat witty replies in each language really diffused the situation and lightened the mood. I'm not very strong in Krobo and I'm quite weak in Twi but any response works when I'm expected to be completely clueless.
Once we all reached the bottom, we met at a central location before breaking off in small groups to join the huge crowd for some dancing and celebration. At one point, Cheri and I decided to go into the heart of the crowd so that we could get a true sense of the celebration. Up to that point, we had been a bit reserved for fear of having our pockets picked. To avoid such a situation, I took my wallet and camera from my pockets and put them in my backpack. I gave the backpack to Paul with the idea that he'd stay with the group and protect my items. When Cheri and I got to the middle of the crowd, we turned to find Paul only a few paces behind us with my bag slung across his chest. Recognizing the danger of the situation, we immediately started back to our central meeting point. On the way, several groups of Ghanaians stepped in front of us to engage Obrunis in dancing. No more than twenty feet from the rest of our group, a woman started shouting and pointing at a commotion nearby. When I got closer, I saw that Paul was holding my backpack but had had the small pocket ripped open by a thief. My personal items were strewn on the ground and I could see random items in various hands. I pushed and grabbed and even ripped the shirt of a man while retrieving my camera. The melee didn't allow me time to think so I have no idea whether I was scuffling with friends of foes. I guess a 6'3" blond guy in a sea of sub six foot Ghanaians serves as a beacon of hope for thieves.
In the end, my wallet and a small white first aid kit (must have looked nice) were gone and the thief got away. While taking stock of my items, we realized that Stephen and Tekuor (she's 11 or 12) had left the group. It was getting dark and we had no way to figure out where they were. In the end, we decided to walk to the roadside and hope that they'd have a similar idea. We came across Tekuor in the company of a pair of helpful strangers and found Stephen at the roadside. A potentially disastrous situation resulted in only a lost wallet and money. Nothing irreparably damaged.
Since then, Obama has been elected president and I can't think of a thing to complain about.
Love to all.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Coming soon
I'm watching what appears to be a great election unfold. I'll compose a new entry soon.
Love to all
Love to all
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Peace Corps Inheritance
With a refreshing Vision Quest behind me, I returned to Bormase ready to get some work done. Moringa had been drying in my new makeshift drying apparatus (I've slung a synthetic mesh across my veranda and have leave spread over the 25' x 4' surface). Gusting winds and a leaky roof have caused small portions to mold but after sorting through the mass of leaves, Stephen and I were ready to make our first batch of Moringa powder.
Stephen brought out a mortar and pestle (normally used for fufu or other starch meals) and after maybe thirty minutes of mixing and pounding, he and I (emphasis on the former) had a large ziplock back of bright green Moringa powder. In Accra, 50g of Moringa powder sells for 5 Ghana Cedis so we've produced a good amount.
On the second day of pounding Moringa (we produced another ziplock bag, making around a kilo in total) Stephen told me about an alternation that occurred while I was sleeping the night before. While drinking Akpeteshie, two brothers started to argue and then to fight. The younger brother (also the local football coach) was being beaten by his older brother (a member of the bead group) and threatened to get a knife or cutlass. Shortly after the fight was broken up, the younger brother went to his room and indeed returned with a cutlass. He chased his brother into the bush and hit him across the face with it. Patrick (he lives next door) heard the commotion and followed the pair into the bush. He found the brothers still quarreling and took the cutlass. Patrick then ran up the road in order to use the satellite phone where I live. Dorothy helped wrap the wound and when a car arrived from Sekesua, Patrick and Samuel rushed to the hospital for stitches. Samuel's life was saved but he has a gash from above his right eyebrow to near his chin.
I went to greet Samuel after he returned from the hospital and found him sitting with his brother and some friends. The brothers acted as though nothing had happened and for the sake of tradition, we all took a shot of Akpeteshie for Samuel's health (it was 7:30am).
Stephen and I discussed how this incident should be treated. He told me that it would be best if they could send the brother to jail for two days as a deterrent. It looks as though there will be no serious repercussions for the younger brother.
After a few days, everything in Bormase was back to normal. My chest was still sore from my football collision but aside from that, everything was great.
I attended the monthly baby weighing and cut more Moringa for harvest. On Tuesday, I traveled to Apimsu with Kua and she and I paid Casey what may be a last visit at his site. The 2006-2008 Omnibus is approaching their close of service and all who are not extending will leave by the end of November. Casey and I hung out with his neighbors and sat through a monster rain storm. In the morning, he sent me off with a great bag of goodies. I've "inherited" spices, a french press and many other great additions. Taking things from another volunteer causes a strange mix of emotions. Casey has been a great neighbor and was one of my trainers when I first arrived. He's not being replaced and once he and the rest of the group has left, I'll join the ranks of the "old Omnibus." On another note, my kitchen is greatly improved and I'm approaching the last year of service. Very strange indeed.
On Thursday, Dorothy and I joined a few other volunteers for the first day of an annual polio immunization drive. I brought along a bag full of sticker (inherited from Casey) and at the end of the day, 84 children aged 5 and under were going around having received a polio immunization, a Vitamin a supplement, a de-wormer and a fine sticker.
I traveled to Accra on Friday and missed the following two days of immunizations but learned that nearly 250 more local children received immunizations and other vital supplements. Though my help was far from vital the the program, it was really nice to get out and volunteer in new communities.
I've been in Accra since Friday. I met Cheri for a very fine dinner and have since been waiting to have a chest x-ray administered. Our PCMO suggested that I have an x-ray to be sure that nothing was out of place but I missed office hours of Friday and had to wait around until Monday morning. On Monday, I arrived at the clinic at 10am to learn the machine had spoiled and I'd have to come another time. I returned to the Peace Corps office and was referred to a different hospital on the other end of Accra. I arrived and learned that I'd need to register with the hospital ID and that the referral wasn't enough. My Peace Corps ID has also spoiled (apparently you still need to empty your pockets when doing wash by hand) and I had to return to the office for a new ID. I arrived in time for the weekly office-wide meeting and and waited through the meeting and lunch hour before being issued a new ID. At around 2pm, I returned to the clinic with my new ID and learned that the registration machine was spoiled and I'd have to return the next day. That night, I received a call from a fellow volunteer and learned that she was on her way to the airport and out of Ghana. This volunteer was suspected of breaking a rule and decided to terminate her service early. She'd been Accra for two days and received notice of her departure time a mere 5 hours before she was due to check in.
I said my good-byes and will do my best to help tie up remaining loose ends. I received a negative x-ray this morning and will know more in a week. At long last, it's time to get out of Accra and back to site. I'll visit the training site on Thursday for a Moringa presentation so the whirlwind is sure to continue.
All is well despite the confusion.
Love you all
Stephen brought out a mortar and pestle (normally used for fufu or other starch meals) and after maybe thirty minutes of mixing and pounding, he and I (emphasis on the former) had a large ziplock back of bright green Moringa powder. In Accra, 50g of Moringa powder sells for 5 Ghana Cedis so we've produced a good amount.
On the second day of pounding Moringa (we produced another ziplock bag, making around a kilo in total) Stephen told me about an alternation that occurred while I was sleeping the night before. While drinking Akpeteshie, two brothers started to argue and then to fight. The younger brother (also the local football coach) was being beaten by his older brother (a member of the bead group) and threatened to get a knife or cutlass. Shortly after the fight was broken up, the younger brother went to his room and indeed returned with a cutlass. He chased his brother into the bush and hit him across the face with it. Patrick (he lives next door) heard the commotion and followed the pair into the bush. He found the brothers still quarreling and took the cutlass. Patrick then ran up the road in order to use the satellite phone where I live. Dorothy helped wrap the wound and when a car arrived from Sekesua, Patrick and Samuel rushed to the hospital for stitches. Samuel's life was saved but he has a gash from above his right eyebrow to near his chin.
I went to greet Samuel after he returned from the hospital and found him sitting with his brother and some friends. The brothers acted as though nothing had happened and for the sake of tradition, we all took a shot of Akpeteshie for Samuel's health (it was 7:30am).
Stephen and I discussed how this incident should be treated. He told me that it would be best if they could send the brother to jail for two days as a deterrent. It looks as though there will be no serious repercussions for the younger brother.
After a few days, everything in Bormase was back to normal. My chest was still sore from my football collision but aside from that, everything was great.
I attended the monthly baby weighing and cut more Moringa for harvest. On Tuesday, I traveled to Apimsu with Kua and she and I paid Casey what may be a last visit at his site. The 2006-2008 Omnibus is approaching their close of service and all who are not extending will leave by the end of November. Casey and I hung out with his neighbors and sat through a monster rain storm. In the morning, he sent me off with a great bag of goodies. I've "inherited" spices, a french press and many other great additions. Taking things from another volunteer causes a strange mix of emotions. Casey has been a great neighbor and was one of my trainers when I first arrived. He's not being replaced and once he and the rest of the group has left, I'll join the ranks of the "old Omnibus." On another note, my kitchen is greatly improved and I'm approaching the last year of service. Very strange indeed.
On Thursday, Dorothy and I joined a few other volunteers for the first day of an annual polio immunization drive. I brought along a bag full of sticker (inherited from Casey) and at the end of the day, 84 children aged 5 and under were going around having received a polio immunization, a Vitamin a supplement, a de-wormer and a fine sticker.
I traveled to Accra on Friday and missed the following two days of immunizations but learned that nearly 250 more local children received immunizations and other vital supplements. Though my help was far from vital the the program, it was really nice to get out and volunteer in new communities.
I've been in Accra since Friday. I met Cheri for a very fine dinner and have since been waiting to have a chest x-ray administered. Our PCMO suggested that I have an x-ray to be sure that nothing was out of place but I missed office hours of Friday and had to wait around until Monday morning. On Monday, I arrived at the clinic at 10am to learn the machine had spoiled and I'd have to come another time. I returned to the Peace Corps office and was referred to a different hospital on the other end of Accra. I arrived and learned that I'd need to register with the hospital ID and that the referral wasn't enough. My Peace Corps ID has also spoiled (apparently you still need to empty your pockets when doing wash by hand) and I had to return to the office for a new ID. I arrived in time for the weekly office-wide meeting and and waited through the meeting and lunch hour before being issued a new ID. At around 2pm, I returned to the clinic with my new ID and learned that the registration machine was spoiled and I'd have to return the next day. That night, I received a call from a fellow volunteer and learned that she was on her way to the airport and out of Ghana. This volunteer was suspected of breaking a rule and decided to terminate her service early. She'd been Accra for two days and received notice of her departure time a mere 5 hours before she was due to check in.
I said my good-byes and will do my best to help tie up remaining loose ends. I received a negative x-ray this morning and will know more in a week. At long last, it's time to get out of Accra and back to site. I'll visit the training site on Thursday for a Moringa presentation so the whirlwind is sure to continue.
All is well despite the confusion.
Love you all
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Piedro and pasta
I wasn't really looking forward to Vision Quest. I felt similar to the way I felt last year preparing to leave for my own Vision Quest. Was I ready to sit with a total stranger for five days and struggle to make conversation and get through the day?
Last year was fine and this round easily matched last years fun and insight. I met Kevin (my Vision Quester) and Joshua (Travis' Vision Quester) at around 10am on Saturday morning. The three of us walked and chatted while working our way through back alleys and crowded streets. We met Travis at a out standard gas station/chop bar and sat over beers for a while. Kevin moved from San Bruno while Joshua moved from Tennessee. We shared stories of home, food, plans etc. before making a quick tour of Koforidua and beginning the journey to Bormase. Dorothy was traveling for a church retreat so the house was being run by Stephen, Raphael (home from school), Eva, Maku and Paul.
Shortly after arriving, the subject of filling time came up. Kevin took a stab and asked if I knew how to play Piedro. Perfect!!! Kevin and I taught Travis and Joshua to play and we were set. Over the next two days, we toured the farm, harvested a few yams and some cassava. We visited the Moringa farm, looked at Patrick's bead set-up, ate Ghanaian food and even managed a pancake breakfast. On Sunday afternoon, when Piedro was getting old and the we all felt a bit restless, my neighbor John came by to ask if we wanted to join the tro going to the football match.
The four of us piled into the last row of the tro and sat sweating while six or seven Ghanaians joined each additional row. One man sat on the floor behind out seat and when we finally started moving, he completed the surround sound chanting that filled the car for the entirety of the next 2 hours. I then joined pre-game chats while the other three Blefonos drew a crown while playing frisbee.
A few minutes into the game, I'd heard taunts and jokes from up and down the sidelines but had also played a crisp enough game to earn almost as many encouraging words. The style of play fell quickly into the standard kickball variety in which the ball spends as much time twenty feet in the air as it does on the ground. Maybe fifteen minutes into the game, a cross was blasted high into the air from the right wing. I never took my eyes off the ball and as I met the ball at the top of my leap, my head made great contact with the ball at what seemed to be the exact same time as some part of the keeper met my chest and my back greeted the dirt. I was standing again in time to see the ball fly over the crossbar. Looking to minimize the damage, I jogged into position for the goal kick as though unaffected by the contact. I felt alright within a few minutes and after an unwarranted penalty kick, an own goal, 70 minutes of football and a shanked volley at an open goal by yours truly we were ready to go.
To add gusto to the noisy and crowded tro, we added the sweat of fifteen footballers on the way back to Bormase. Passengers hung off of the back and sides of the tro as the boisterous bunch chanted as though returning from a World Cup victory. Banku and bucket baths rounded out the night and we woke up ready to move on.
Monday consisted of a trip to Asesewa and time with a volunteer on his way out. Casey met us for beers and offered the perspective of a volunteer after 2+ years of service with less than a month remaining. We ate rice and stew and were caught in a monster of a rainstorm before arriving at Travis' house in Dawu for dinner. Joshua shared his culinary expertise and made a fine pasta dish. With 8 years spent in various kitchens in and around Knoxville, Joshua was able to make a very fine meal over which the four of us drank wine and chatted as though we were old friends sharing dinner in America.
We ate more good meals, checked out Travis' projects and gradually ran out of energy as Vision Quest wound down. Travis and I parted ways with Kevin and Josh yesterday (Wednesday) morning after showing a wide spectrum of what Peace Corps Ghana can offer. In return, we got two reminders of how much energy and passion arrive in each trainee. We're no longer the new Omnibus Volunteers. The group that helped break us into Ghana will leave within the next month and we will follow only a year after that. We're coming to a new beginning in Ghana. One last cycle of seasons and harvests before we're off.
Love to all
Ira
Last year was fine and this round easily matched last years fun and insight. I met Kevin (my Vision Quester) and Joshua (Travis' Vision Quester) at around 10am on Saturday morning. The three of us walked and chatted while working our way through back alleys and crowded streets. We met Travis at a out standard gas station/chop bar and sat over beers for a while. Kevin moved from San Bruno while Joshua moved from Tennessee. We shared stories of home, food, plans etc. before making a quick tour of Koforidua and beginning the journey to Bormase. Dorothy was traveling for a church retreat so the house was being run by Stephen, Raphael (home from school), Eva, Maku and Paul.
Shortly after arriving, the subject of filling time came up. Kevin took a stab and asked if I knew how to play Piedro. Perfect!!! Kevin and I taught Travis and Joshua to play and we were set. Over the next two days, we toured the farm, harvested a few yams and some cassava. We visited the Moringa farm, looked at Patrick's bead set-up, ate Ghanaian food and even managed a pancake breakfast. On Sunday afternoon, when Piedro was getting old and the we all felt a bit restless, my neighbor John came by to ask if we wanted to join the tro going to the football match.
The four of us piled into the last row of the tro and sat sweating while six or seven Ghanaians joined each additional row. One man sat on the floor behind out seat and when we finally started moving, he completed the surround sound chanting that filled the car for the entirety of the next 2 hours. I then joined pre-game chats while the other three Blefonos drew a crown while playing frisbee.
A few minutes into the game, I'd heard taunts and jokes from up and down the sidelines but had also played a crisp enough game to earn almost as many encouraging words. The style of play fell quickly into the standard kickball variety in which the ball spends as much time twenty feet in the air as it does on the ground. Maybe fifteen minutes into the game, a cross was blasted high into the air from the right wing. I never took my eyes off the ball and as I met the ball at the top of my leap, my head made great contact with the ball at what seemed to be the exact same time as some part of the keeper met my chest and my back greeted the dirt. I was standing again in time to see the ball fly over the crossbar. Looking to minimize the damage, I jogged into position for the goal kick as though unaffected by the contact. I felt alright within a few minutes and after an unwarranted penalty kick, an own goal, 70 minutes of football and a shanked volley at an open goal by yours truly we were ready to go.
To add gusto to the noisy and crowded tro, we added the sweat of fifteen footballers on the way back to Bormase. Passengers hung off of the back and sides of the tro as the boisterous bunch chanted as though returning from a World Cup victory. Banku and bucket baths rounded out the night and we woke up ready to move on.
Monday consisted of a trip to Asesewa and time with a volunteer on his way out. Casey met us for beers and offered the perspective of a volunteer after 2+ years of service with less than a month remaining. We ate rice and stew and were caught in a monster of a rainstorm before arriving at Travis' house in Dawu for dinner. Joshua shared his culinary expertise and made a fine pasta dish. With 8 years spent in various kitchens in and around Knoxville, Joshua was able to make a very fine meal over which the four of us drank wine and chatted as though we were old friends sharing dinner in America.
We ate more good meals, checked out Travis' projects and gradually ran out of energy as Vision Quest wound down. Travis and I parted ways with Kevin and Josh yesterday (Wednesday) morning after showing a wide spectrum of what Peace Corps Ghana can offer. In return, we got two reminders of how much energy and passion arrive in each trainee. We're no longer the new Omnibus Volunteers. The group that helped break us into Ghana will leave within the next month and we will follow only a year after that. We're coming to a new beginning in Ghana. One last cycle of seasons and harvests before we're off.
Love to all
Ira
Thursday, October 2, 2008
New Omnibus
While working on the Moringa Manual (a group write up following the conference in Burkina Faso) in Accra, I got a chance to join some of my fellow volunteers in greeting the new group of omnibus volunteers as they entered Ghana with wide eyes, masses of luggage and incredibly clean clothes.
I only spent limited time with the new volunteers but their arrival made me think more of some of my own concerns when I first arrived.
In a blog entry I wrote before leaving America, I wrote regarding my concerns with Ghana's currency re-denomination, the 2008 election and the discovery of oil off of the Gulf of Guinea.
With a year under my belt, I can now give a better look at these three issues.
As the dollar fell further and further behind other major currencies, it gained a great deal on the Ghana Cedi. When I arrived, one dollar could get you around 94 Ghana Pesewas or .94 Ghana Cedis. 18% inflation has helped that exchange rate change to a point at which one dollar will now fetch one Ghana Cedi and fifteen Pesewas or 1.15 Ghana Cedis. Unfortunately, we Peace Corps Volunteers are still paid 206 Ghana Cedis per month. We were given a "cost of living survey," and an opportunity to get a raise based on the results but unfortunately we fell 3 surveys short of the requisite 75 percent of volunteers.
Items that used to cost 300 cedis (now 3 pesewas) immediately increased to 5 pesewas in order to eliminate the hassle of 1 pesewa coins. This price increase happened all across the board and combined with the food crisis has made food hard to afford. Another difficulty is that banks and ATM machines give 10 Ghana Cedi notes. Most volunteers live in communities in which 10 Ghana Cedis is a small fortune and getting change is next to impossible. For now, the currency exchange has eliminated some very dirty notes from circulation but has also made financial transactions more complicated. It's not uncommon to buy an item that costs 25 pesewas with a one Ghana Cedi note only to find that the merchant can't make change. Can you imagine giving a dollar for an item that cost a quarter and not having change available? It's an odd situation.
As in America, an election is fast approaching in Ghana. The NDC and the NPP are still mixed in a tight contest. About a month ago, violence broke out around Tamale in the Northern Region. It was reported that an NPP kiosk was burned to the ground. In retaliation, over 20 homes in a predominantly NDC village were burned and a few people were killed. It was also reported that individuals were "stock piling weapons," in Tamale and waiting for the end of Ramadan before acting. Ramadan has come and gone with not news about violence but for safety purposes, all volunteers will be consolidated for a few days before and after the election. It's hard to get a true read on what will happen with the election. There's no news ticker to follow and no straw poll to check. News is more transparently biased than it is in the US so we'll just have to wait and see. As far as the American elections go, I sent in my absentee ballot for the US election yesterday. I was worried that it wouldn't arrive in time but I feel as though I've done my part in a VERY important election.
The discovery of oil has proved to be twice as large as was anticipated a year ago. Roughly 1.6 billion barrels of oil sit off the coast of Ghana. While speculation has been intense, it has been decided that drilling won't begin until 2010. I'll be gone but fear that Ghana may go down the same road as other oil rich African countries. Many Ghanaians are excited about the prospect of affordable gas and an influx of cash but I'm not sure how well it would be handled.
In other news, I have a Vision Quester coming to Bormase on Saturday. One of the new Environment volunteers will stay with me for 5 days as a way to see how a volunteer really lives. It should be interesting.
Love to all
I only spent limited time with the new volunteers but their arrival made me think more of some of my own concerns when I first arrived.
In a blog entry I wrote before leaving America, I wrote regarding my concerns with Ghana's currency re-denomination, the 2008 election and the discovery of oil off of the Gulf of Guinea.
With a year under my belt, I can now give a better look at these three issues.
As the dollar fell further and further behind other major currencies, it gained a great deal on the Ghana Cedi. When I arrived, one dollar could get you around 94 Ghana Pesewas or .94 Ghana Cedis. 18% inflation has helped that exchange rate change to a point at which one dollar will now fetch one Ghana Cedi and fifteen Pesewas or 1.15 Ghana Cedis. Unfortunately, we Peace Corps Volunteers are still paid 206 Ghana Cedis per month. We were given a "cost of living survey," and an opportunity to get a raise based on the results but unfortunately we fell 3 surveys short of the requisite 75 percent of volunteers.
Items that used to cost 300 cedis (now 3 pesewas) immediately increased to 5 pesewas in order to eliminate the hassle of 1 pesewa coins. This price increase happened all across the board and combined with the food crisis has made food hard to afford. Another difficulty is that banks and ATM machines give 10 Ghana Cedi notes. Most volunteers live in communities in which 10 Ghana Cedis is a small fortune and getting change is next to impossible. For now, the currency exchange has eliminated some very dirty notes from circulation but has also made financial transactions more complicated. It's not uncommon to buy an item that costs 25 pesewas with a one Ghana Cedi note only to find that the merchant can't make change. Can you imagine giving a dollar for an item that cost a quarter and not having change available? It's an odd situation.
As in America, an election is fast approaching in Ghana. The NDC and the NPP are still mixed in a tight contest. About a month ago, violence broke out around Tamale in the Northern Region. It was reported that an NPP kiosk was burned to the ground. In retaliation, over 20 homes in a predominantly NDC village were burned and a few people were killed. It was also reported that individuals were "stock piling weapons," in Tamale and waiting for the end of Ramadan before acting. Ramadan has come and gone with not news about violence but for safety purposes, all volunteers will be consolidated for a few days before and after the election. It's hard to get a true read on what will happen with the election. There's no news ticker to follow and no straw poll to check. News is more transparently biased than it is in the US so we'll just have to wait and see. As far as the American elections go, I sent in my absentee ballot for the US election yesterday. I was worried that it wouldn't arrive in time but I feel as though I've done my part in a VERY important election.
The discovery of oil has proved to be twice as large as was anticipated a year ago. Roughly 1.6 billion barrels of oil sit off the coast of Ghana. While speculation has been intense, it has been decided that drilling won't begin until 2010. I'll be gone but fear that Ghana may go down the same road as other oil rich African countries. Many Ghanaians are excited about the prospect of affordable gas and an influx of cash but I'm not sure how well it would be handled.
In other news, I have a Vision Quester coming to Bormase on Saturday. One of the new Environment volunteers will stay with me for 5 days as a way to see how a volunteer really lives. It should be interesting.
Love to all
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Funeral season
Three weeks ago when I returned to Bormase from IST, I noticed that the "small girls," Maku and Augustina were not in the house. Upon asking Dorothy about the girls, I learned that Augustina was in Accra visiting her family while Maku was bereaved. Apparently, her 25 year old brother had complained of a headache while farming, was rushed to the hospital for treatment and given an IV but died shortly thereafter. Since autopsies are far from common practice in Ghana, the actual cause of death is unknown but Dorothy told me that the family suspects that he died of Malaria. Upon hearing this news, I asked if I could attend the funeral with Dorothy and if the would let me know once it was scheduled.
The funeral took place this past weekend. The night before the funeral, I learned that it would be a three day event. We would arrive on Friday and return Saturday after the body was brought to the cemetery. Some family members would stay through a Sunday church service but Dorothy and I would leave on Saturday with the majority of the visitors. I had set up an informal visit with one of Bormase's Chiefs on Saturday afternoon and it seemed as though we wouldn't be back in time. Since it was an informal visit, it wasn't a big deal but as our time of departure approached, I felt more and more anxious. The more anxious I felt, the more guilty I felt about wanting to skip a funeral while a 25 year old man lay dead and his 14 year old sister worked hard to prepare for the event.
At around 7am Friday morning, Dorothy and I joined a lorry and began our journey through several villages with names I can't even attempt to repeat. After 20 minutes of driving, we were in a part of Ghana I had never seen and the road was in horrendous shape. It seemed as though we were driving along a major fault line after an earthquake. A deep fissure split the one lane road down the middle and the driver of the fifteen passenger, no-suspension tro had to negotiate the road with great precision. The view was incredible but the ride not particularly comfortable.
Our first stop was at nearly 8:30 and we had missed our intended tro connection. Dorothy went to greet some friends she hadn't seen in some time while I sat with some market women. As usual, the farther I get from Bormase, the more attention I get from children. Under age 2, they either cry and run/crawl or stare with a mix of confusion and wonder. Once the children can speak, they typically yell "Blefono, Blefono, Blefono." until I respond and then have nothing else to say. I understand that most of these children see white people rarely if ever and while I hear "Blefono!" hundreds of times some days, I try to understand that each child only gets to yell it so often. Either way, it can fray my nerves.
After maybe a fifteen minute wait, Dorothy and I start on a long walk towards the next town. With a huge downhill grade followed by an equally impressive incline, I was ready for a good hour of walking. Within minutes, however, a tro came along and we were back on schedule. By 9:30, we were connected to a paved road and it was time to walk. As we walked and talked, I learned from Dorothy that Augustina will be staying with her family in Accra and won't return to Bormase. The future of her education (she's 12) is uncertain as her parents can't afford to send her to school. A boy named Paul (maybe 10?) had been around the house recently and will now help around the house. A serious game of musical beds is going on at my site, I have a hard time keeping track of who lives there.
Halfway into our walk, the clouds opened up and we were forced to take cover at a nearby house. A nice thing about rural Ghana is that you can pretty much go into the closest available house at the first sign of rain. We waited out the storm amongst a family and continued our trek along a very slippery mud road. We arrived at the funeral site a little after 10:30 and promptly greeted chiefs, elders and family members. I saw Maku for the first time in at least a month and then we sat for several hours.
As time went on, the rain started again, guests drank more and I sat. Akpeteshie (like Ghanaian moonshine) was passed amongst the elders, more and more people decided to test my Krobo. Many were pleased that I could greet and respond and explain where I'd come from while one particular woman (there's always at least one) made a point to say hello to me and follow it with a barrage of questions. She'd laugh when I didn't understand and she'd be on her way. This routine continued with at least a dozen visits throughout the afternoon. Of course she didn't speak enough English to explain what she was saying so she laughed at me while I bitterly fumed in silence.
By midday, a group of men had been arguing on and off for at least thirty minutes. Dorothy let me know that there was a dispute about the delivery of the corpse. The elder chief sent a group of individuals to the mortuary in order to have the body brought to the funeral site. The youth chief (each Krobo village has several chiefs) also chose several representatives to go but was overruled by the elder chief. Since the deceased was amongst the youth, his friends had worked ceaselessly over the past several weeks in order to prepare for the event and without warning, they had been passed over at the last minute.
For the next two hours, as the center of the compound filled with sloppy mud, representatives from the two parties went back and forth about the issue and haggled about the cost of retribution. Because of the delay, the rain and the state of the road, the process of delivering the corpse was far more difficult after the elders agreed to pay the youth group 15 Ghana Cedis in retribution.
At around 3pm, a group of young women entered the center of the compound to sing, dance, drum and slap palm fronds in the mud. From one side of the compound, young women and at least a dozen nursing babies looked on. Male elders looked on from the young women's left. Female elders looked on from a third side while a group of women and young children gathered around cauldron sized pots as they prepared food on the fourth side. I sat somehow between the male and female elders and did my best not to be splattered with mud as it flew from the quagmire of a compound floor.
After several minutes of drumming and dancing, Dorothy told me to get Maku, have her sit on my lap and hold onto her. Uncomfortable but accommodating, I did so and soon understood why. The steaming hood of a taxi pulled up to the entrance to the compound and all of the women started wailing. With my arm wrapped around Maku's midriff, I could literally feel her anguish as her brother was carried from the back of the taxi. There was no coffin, he was wrapped tightly in fine cloth as though temporarily mummified. With a few men at his head and a few at his feet, the young man was carried through the center of the compound while Maku's stomach convulsed with the strain of tears, gasps of breath, wailing and struggle as she tried to go towards her dead big brother. My mind runs through how it might seem inappropriate for me to have this teenage girl on my lap when nobody really knows who I am or why I'm there . I didn't know if it was common practice to hold family members back or if it was just an idea of Dorothy's. I tried to put myself in Maku's place with very little success. I also thought of how strange it was to be at the funeral of an age mate while his widow and three children looked on. This mix of emotions ran through me while I had possible the least connection the the deceased. I'm sure my face showed next to nothing.
Once the body was placed in a room, the gathered guests returned to what they'd been doing. Some ate, many drank and I sat. After another hour with my bony behind on a wood bench, Dorothy and I took a break for food. After my third meal of the day, I took time to read and decompress. There was no shortage of visitors while I read. Young children either stared or dared to get as close as they could. Men and women either politely greeted or gave mini-Krobo quizzes. Not quite relaxing but I was able to finish my book.
As bedtime approached, we were told that no beds were available and we were to be driven to a neighboring village to sleep. Dorothy didn't accept this arrangement as she didn't want to leave Maku.
I ended up sharing a straw mat on the floor with Dorothy and Maku's sister while two babies slept on a sheet beside us. With a backpack for a pillow, a terribly uncomfortable bed and a soundtrack of blaring music and crying babies, I barely slept.
At 5:45am, it was time to view the body of the deceased. Delirious, I trudged through the mud in order to see Maku's brother for the first time. By 6:15, I was watching steam rise from my body as I bucket bathed. By 6:30, I was watching a small boy as he was caned/slapped and forcefully bathed. He had been covered in dried mud and when told to bathe, he refused and insulted his elders. Talk about sensory overload early in the morning.
After a breakfast of kenkey (fermented corn dough) Dorothy and I went to join everyone as funeral announcements were made. Maku's father repeatedly approached and thanked me for coming while asking questions and insisting that Dorothy translate, even when I understood. Within fifteen minutes, I felt like I was going to pass out. I did my best to stick it out but had to ask if I could return to the straw mat to lie down. Within an hour, I had a fever. Within two hours, I was violently shivering. We were 5k away from any source of transportation and the funeral wasn't even halfway over so I napped on and off and shivered until the body was brought to the cemetery and everyone returned. Small children occasionally peeked their head in for an extra peak at the blefono but it didn't take long for me to resort to yelling and slamming the door. Eventually, I told Dorothy that I was pretty sure that I had Malaria again and had to leave as soon as possible.
By shortly after 2pm, we were able to leave. On the way out, I shook hands with all of the elders and family members. I tried to smile as "Blefono, Blefono, Blefono," was yelled at me from all angles. I tried to wait patiently as Dorothy chatted for what felt like hours (probably only a few minutes) with various drunk guests. I posed for a picture with Maku, Dorothy and several small children. Finally, as we were on our way out, one last man came up to me and in broken english asked if I could give him a job.
I gingerly walked for 45 minutes along a muddy road, under the mid-day sun with only a bottle of rain water until we reached the main junction. Dorothy went back towards Bormase and I went my own way via Koforidua to Accra. It felt almost like I was sleepwalking from place to place until between Koforidua and Accra, the sky turned black and we were hit with an intense downpour. Sitting in the jump seat (fold down seat that attaches to the benches in some tros) I had to hunch over to keep from hitting my head on the ceiling. With no seat belt and next to no visibility, I sat tensely as we passed a few accidents. We made it safely to greater Accra and sat in deadlocked traffic for 2 hours without moving 50 meters.
At 9:30, the three hour turned six and a half hour trip came to an end and I arrived at the medical unit. I had called the Peace Corps Medical Officer at 5 to tell him that I'd be in Accra at around 7. When I arrived, he was still stuck in traffic and I sat until nearly 11 before finally getting the necessary medicine. My fever was down to 100.6 ( I have no idea how high it was before) and I could finally go to sleep.
I've been in Accra since Saturday night but wasn't quite up to writing this entry. I feel good now and will go back to site tomorrow.
Love to all
The funeral took place this past weekend. The night before the funeral, I learned that it would be a three day event. We would arrive on Friday and return Saturday after the body was brought to the cemetery. Some family members would stay through a Sunday church service but Dorothy and I would leave on Saturday with the majority of the visitors. I had set up an informal visit with one of Bormase's Chiefs on Saturday afternoon and it seemed as though we wouldn't be back in time. Since it was an informal visit, it wasn't a big deal but as our time of departure approached, I felt more and more anxious. The more anxious I felt, the more guilty I felt about wanting to skip a funeral while a 25 year old man lay dead and his 14 year old sister worked hard to prepare for the event.
At around 7am Friday morning, Dorothy and I joined a lorry and began our journey through several villages with names I can't even attempt to repeat. After 20 minutes of driving, we were in a part of Ghana I had never seen and the road was in horrendous shape. It seemed as though we were driving along a major fault line after an earthquake. A deep fissure split the one lane road down the middle and the driver of the fifteen passenger, no-suspension tro had to negotiate the road with great precision. The view was incredible but the ride not particularly comfortable.
Our first stop was at nearly 8:30 and we had missed our intended tro connection. Dorothy went to greet some friends she hadn't seen in some time while I sat with some market women. As usual, the farther I get from Bormase, the more attention I get from children. Under age 2, they either cry and run/crawl or stare with a mix of confusion and wonder. Once the children can speak, they typically yell "Blefono, Blefono, Blefono." until I respond and then have nothing else to say. I understand that most of these children see white people rarely if ever and while I hear "Blefono!" hundreds of times some days, I try to understand that each child only gets to yell it so often. Either way, it can fray my nerves.
After maybe a fifteen minute wait, Dorothy and I start on a long walk towards the next town. With a huge downhill grade followed by an equally impressive incline, I was ready for a good hour of walking. Within minutes, however, a tro came along and we were back on schedule. By 9:30, we were connected to a paved road and it was time to walk. As we walked and talked, I learned from Dorothy that Augustina will be staying with her family in Accra and won't return to Bormase. The future of her education (she's 12) is uncertain as her parents can't afford to send her to school. A boy named Paul (maybe 10?) had been around the house recently and will now help around the house. A serious game of musical beds is going on at my site, I have a hard time keeping track of who lives there.
Halfway into our walk, the clouds opened up and we were forced to take cover at a nearby house. A nice thing about rural Ghana is that you can pretty much go into the closest available house at the first sign of rain. We waited out the storm amongst a family and continued our trek along a very slippery mud road. We arrived at the funeral site a little after 10:30 and promptly greeted chiefs, elders and family members. I saw Maku for the first time in at least a month and then we sat for several hours.
As time went on, the rain started again, guests drank more and I sat. Akpeteshie (like Ghanaian moonshine) was passed amongst the elders, more and more people decided to test my Krobo. Many were pleased that I could greet and respond and explain where I'd come from while one particular woman (there's always at least one) made a point to say hello to me and follow it with a barrage of questions. She'd laugh when I didn't understand and she'd be on her way. This routine continued with at least a dozen visits throughout the afternoon. Of course she didn't speak enough English to explain what she was saying so she laughed at me while I bitterly fumed in silence.
By midday, a group of men had been arguing on and off for at least thirty minutes. Dorothy let me know that there was a dispute about the delivery of the corpse. The elder chief sent a group of individuals to the mortuary in order to have the body brought to the funeral site. The youth chief (each Krobo village has several chiefs) also chose several representatives to go but was overruled by the elder chief. Since the deceased was amongst the youth, his friends had worked ceaselessly over the past several weeks in order to prepare for the event and without warning, they had been passed over at the last minute.
For the next two hours, as the center of the compound filled with sloppy mud, representatives from the two parties went back and forth about the issue and haggled about the cost of retribution. Because of the delay, the rain and the state of the road, the process of delivering the corpse was far more difficult after the elders agreed to pay the youth group 15 Ghana Cedis in retribution.
At around 3pm, a group of young women entered the center of the compound to sing, dance, drum and slap palm fronds in the mud. From one side of the compound, young women and at least a dozen nursing babies looked on. Male elders looked on from the young women's left. Female elders looked on from a third side while a group of women and young children gathered around cauldron sized pots as they prepared food on the fourth side. I sat somehow between the male and female elders and did my best not to be splattered with mud as it flew from the quagmire of a compound floor.
After several minutes of drumming and dancing, Dorothy told me to get Maku, have her sit on my lap and hold onto her. Uncomfortable but accommodating, I did so and soon understood why. The steaming hood of a taxi pulled up to the entrance to the compound and all of the women started wailing. With my arm wrapped around Maku's midriff, I could literally feel her anguish as her brother was carried from the back of the taxi. There was no coffin, he was wrapped tightly in fine cloth as though temporarily mummified. With a few men at his head and a few at his feet, the young man was carried through the center of the compound while Maku's stomach convulsed with the strain of tears, gasps of breath, wailing and struggle as she tried to go towards her dead big brother. My mind runs through how it might seem inappropriate for me to have this teenage girl on my lap when nobody really knows who I am or why I'm there . I didn't know if it was common practice to hold family members back or if it was just an idea of Dorothy's. I tried to put myself in Maku's place with very little success. I also thought of how strange it was to be at the funeral of an age mate while his widow and three children looked on. This mix of emotions ran through me while I had possible the least connection the the deceased. I'm sure my face showed next to nothing.
Once the body was placed in a room, the gathered guests returned to what they'd been doing. Some ate, many drank and I sat. After another hour with my bony behind on a wood bench, Dorothy and I took a break for food. After my third meal of the day, I took time to read and decompress. There was no shortage of visitors while I read. Young children either stared or dared to get as close as they could. Men and women either politely greeted or gave mini-Krobo quizzes. Not quite relaxing but I was able to finish my book.
As bedtime approached, we were told that no beds were available and we were to be driven to a neighboring village to sleep. Dorothy didn't accept this arrangement as she didn't want to leave Maku.
I ended up sharing a straw mat on the floor with Dorothy and Maku's sister while two babies slept on a sheet beside us. With a backpack for a pillow, a terribly uncomfortable bed and a soundtrack of blaring music and crying babies, I barely slept.
At 5:45am, it was time to view the body of the deceased. Delirious, I trudged through the mud in order to see Maku's brother for the first time. By 6:15, I was watching steam rise from my body as I bucket bathed. By 6:30, I was watching a small boy as he was caned/slapped and forcefully bathed. He had been covered in dried mud and when told to bathe, he refused and insulted his elders. Talk about sensory overload early in the morning.
After a breakfast of kenkey (fermented corn dough) Dorothy and I went to join everyone as funeral announcements were made. Maku's father repeatedly approached and thanked me for coming while asking questions and insisting that Dorothy translate, even when I understood. Within fifteen minutes, I felt like I was going to pass out. I did my best to stick it out but had to ask if I could return to the straw mat to lie down. Within an hour, I had a fever. Within two hours, I was violently shivering. We were 5k away from any source of transportation and the funeral wasn't even halfway over so I napped on and off and shivered until the body was brought to the cemetery and everyone returned. Small children occasionally peeked their head in for an extra peak at the blefono but it didn't take long for me to resort to yelling and slamming the door. Eventually, I told Dorothy that I was pretty sure that I had Malaria again and had to leave as soon as possible.
By shortly after 2pm, we were able to leave. On the way out, I shook hands with all of the elders and family members. I tried to smile as "Blefono, Blefono, Blefono," was yelled at me from all angles. I tried to wait patiently as Dorothy chatted for what felt like hours (probably only a few minutes) with various drunk guests. I posed for a picture with Maku, Dorothy and several small children. Finally, as we were on our way out, one last man came up to me and in broken english asked if I could give him a job.
I gingerly walked for 45 minutes along a muddy road, under the mid-day sun with only a bottle of rain water until we reached the main junction. Dorothy went back towards Bormase and I went my own way via Koforidua to Accra. It felt almost like I was sleepwalking from place to place until between Koforidua and Accra, the sky turned black and we were hit with an intense downpour. Sitting in the jump seat (fold down seat that attaches to the benches in some tros) I had to hunch over to keep from hitting my head on the ceiling. With no seat belt and next to no visibility, I sat tensely as we passed a few accidents. We made it safely to greater Accra and sat in deadlocked traffic for 2 hours without moving 50 meters.
At 9:30, the three hour turned six and a half hour trip came to an end and I arrived at the medical unit. I had called the Peace Corps Medical Officer at 5 to tell him that I'd be in Accra at around 7. When I arrived, he was still stuck in traffic and I sat until nearly 11 before finally getting the necessary medicine. My fever was down to 100.6 ( I have no idea how high it was before) and I could finally go to sleep.
I've been in Accra since Saturday night but wasn't quite up to writing this entry. I feel good now and will go back to site tomorrow.
Love to all
Monday, September 15, 2008
PEPFAR IST
In case you're not following the acronyms, PEPFAR IST stands for Presidential Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief In Service Training. I just spent a week in Kumasi learning about HIV/AIDS statistics and also discussing current and future projects.
Most of the week was repetitive but on a few occasions, we broke into groups of Ghanaians/Americans and asked each other "gender role," questions. I learned that many Ghanaians believe that HIV/AIDS and homosexuality were "imported," to Ghana just as drugs and other unwanted things had been. Members of different tribes discussed how gender roles differ. In you're a Dagomba male, you have all power in the family and women and children defer to you. In all tribes, if something bad happens (say something is spilled or broken) and a man has occurred it to happen, all in the room will still blame the smallest child in the room. Males inherit from males amongst Dagombas while in the Akan (Ashanti) tribe, the earnings of a man's children go to the husband of that man's sisters. It's not uncommon for a man to push his nieces and nephews into work earlier in life so that the trickle up will start sooner.
Women talked about a phenomenon in secondary school (high school) in which older girls take younger girls under their wing and give hands on lessons of how to pleasure themselves and how to pleasure men. Until the conversation started, none of the women had considered that these actions could be considered to be homosexual. The difficult topic of "what is sex?" came up and we weren't able to clear it up. A Dagomba chief told us that according to Islam, sex doesn't take place until semen is present. After that point, a man must wash before doing anything else. This man considers masturbation sex while others only consider sexual intercourse. Since we were discussing STIs and HIV/AIDS in particular, we tried to focus on the risks involved in any particular activity.
Other sessions involved bickering about fashion and other things. Some men talked about how hard it is to control themselves when women dress in a certain way. Women obviously were upset by these comments and the conversation took a bad turn. I tried to talk about how in a society in which gender roles are as they are in Ghana, while it's not inappropriate for women to dress provocatively, it may not be smart to do so since men in "power roles," feel that it's OK to respond in such a way. I said that it's never appropriate for a man to assault or rape a woman and that their dress is not an invitation but I couldn't get my words out before being interrupted and talked over by a volunteer with strong beliefs. I was trying to agree with her and give Ghanaian men a chance to hear her argument from another mouth and from a man but unfortunately I couldn't finish. Such topics are always tricky since one can never know the history of each person in the room. With 20+ representatives from each gender, it's likely that at least one victim and one aggressor sat in the room but one can never know.
All around, the information provided was great and it was nice to see volunteers (some of whom I hadn't seen since November) but the time spent also showed how many differences there are not only between American and Ghanaian cultures but also within Ghana.
I'm on my way back to site. One year ago today, I met all of my fellow volunteers in Philadelphia for some pre-service training. As many volunteers suggested would happen, some days go painfully slowly but the weeks, months and years fly by.
Love to all
Ira
Most of the week was repetitive but on a few occasions, we broke into groups of Ghanaians/Americans and asked each other "gender role," questions. I learned that many Ghanaians believe that HIV/AIDS and homosexuality were "imported," to Ghana just as drugs and other unwanted things had been. Members of different tribes discussed how gender roles differ. In you're a Dagomba male, you have all power in the family and women and children defer to you. In all tribes, if something bad happens (say something is spilled or broken) and a man has occurred it to happen, all in the room will still blame the smallest child in the room. Males inherit from males amongst Dagombas while in the Akan (Ashanti) tribe, the earnings of a man's children go to the husband of that man's sisters. It's not uncommon for a man to push his nieces and nephews into work earlier in life so that the trickle up will start sooner.
Women talked about a phenomenon in secondary school (high school) in which older girls take younger girls under their wing and give hands on lessons of how to pleasure themselves and how to pleasure men. Until the conversation started, none of the women had considered that these actions could be considered to be homosexual. The difficult topic of "what is sex?" came up and we weren't able to clear it up. A Dagomba chief told us that according to Islam, sex doesn't take place until semen is present. After that point, a man must wash before doing anything else. This man considers masturbation sex while others only consider sexual intercourse. Since we were discussing STIs and HIV/AIDS in particular, we tried to focus on the risks involved in any particular activity.
Other sessions involved bickering about fashion and other things. Some men talked about how hard it is to control themselves when women dress in a certain way. Women obviously were upset by these comments and the conversation took a bad turn. I tried to talk about how in a society in which gender roles are as they are in Ghana, while it's not inappropriate for women to dress provocatively, it may not be smart to do so since men in "power roles," feel that it's OK to respond in such a way. I said that it's never appropriate for a man to assault or rape a woman and that their dress is not an invitation but I couldn't get my words out before being interrupted and talked over by a volunteer with strong beliefs. I was trying to agree with her and give Ghanaian men a chance to hear her argument from another mouth and from a man but unfortunately I couldn't finish. Such topics are always tricky since one can never know the history of each person in the room. With 20+ representatives from each gender, it's likely that at least one victim and one aggressor sat in the room but one can never know.
All around, the information provided was great and it was nice to see volunteers (some of whom I hadn't seen since November) but the time spent also showed how many differences there are not only between American and Ghanaian cultures but also within Ghana.
I'm on my way back to site. One year ago today, I met all of my fellow volunteers in Philadelphia for some pre-service training. As many volunteers suggested would happen, some days go painfully slowly but the weeks, months and years fly by.
Love to all
Ira
Thursday, September 4, 2008
IST 2
Last week, the 2007 group of Environment volunteers met in Kumasi for a second "in service training." Gray and I composed the agenda for the meeting and had it approved for funding by PC administration. For the most part, it allowed our group to meet again and discuss any projects/ideas that have come up since March. In the past, IST 2 meetings have been predominantly negative and are spent bashing Peace Corps more than providing productive feedback.
Our meeting was great. At first most volunteers were talking about how little it felt like they had accomplished during the first year. As time went on and all volunteers shared similar stories, it made each of us realize that we're dealing with a lot of cultural difficulties yet getting a good deal done in addition to the hardships.
I have new ideas for projects and really feel like I have to get on the ball if I'm going to see any of them come to fruition.
Gray accompanied me on my way south as he had to visit the medical office. We had a good 4 hour conversation about our time in Ghana, our time leading up to Peace Corps and more. We talked about deciding to join the Peace Corps, we agreed that we couldn't think of our lives without this experience etc. We talked about how much more free and liberated we felt after havind done something like this. As we talked about how much a 9-5 job can really restrain you, we pulled to an intersection and saw two dead bodies lying in the road. While stopped at the intersection, the angle didn't provide an appropriate angle and we weren't sure what we were looking at. Dead sheep, dogs and goats aren't uncommon and we crossed our fingers that our eyes were deceiving us.
As we crossed the intersection, we saw that it wasn't one sheep in the road but that there were two dead bodies laying there with twenty or more Ghanaians standing on the median talking. Nobody was tending the the bodies and nothing was used to cover them. Neither Gray nor I had seen a dead body while in Ghana and we were shocked. Another volunteer from our group saw a young boy hit by a truck during the volunteers first month at site. The boy was torn to pieces what remained landed at the volunteers feet. That volunteer is still in Ghana.
As much as our service is about helping our communities and teaching Ghanains about American culture, just as much is based on exposure to Ghana and life in a developing country.
The two men in the road may have been hit by a car and they may have been beaten after trying to rob a car, I'll never know. Either way, it was a shocking experience and is emblazened in my mind.
Our meeting was great. At first most volunteers were talking about how little it felt like they had accomplished during the first year. As time went on and all volunteers shared similar stories, it made each of us realize that we're dealing with a lot of cultural difficulties yet getting a good deal done in addition to the hardships.
I have new ideas for projects and really feel like I have to get on the ball if I'm going to see any of them come to fruition.
Gray accompanied me on my way south as he had to visit the medical office. We had a good 4 hour conversation about our time in Ghana, our time leading up to Peace Corps and more. We talked about deciding to join the Peace Corps, we agreed that we couldn't think of our lives without this experience etc. We talked about how much more free and liberated we felt after havind done something like this. As we talked about how much a 9-5 job can really restrain you, we pulled to an intersection and saw two dead bodies lying in the road. While stopped at the intersection, the angle didn't provide an appropriate angle and we weren't sure what we were looking at. Dead sheep, dogs and goats aren't uncommon and we crossed our fingers that our eyes were deceiving us.
As we crossed the intersection, we saw that it wasn't one sheep in the road but that there were two dead bodies laying there with twenty or more Ghanaians standing on the median talking. Nobody was tending the the bodies and nothing was used to cover them. Neither Gray nor I had seen a dead body while in Ghana and we were shocked. Another volunteer from our group saw a young boy hit by a truck during the volunteers first month at site. The boy was torn to pieces what remained landed at the volunteers feet. That volunteer is still in Ghana.
As much as our service is about helping our communities and teaching Ghanains about American culture, just as much is based on exposure to Ghana and life in a developing country.
The two men in the road may have been hit by a car and they may have been beaten after trying to rob a car, I'll never know. Either way, it was a shocking experience and is emblazened in my mind.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Administrative separation
Within hours of writing my PIP blog entry, I received a call from our Safety and Security Officer asking me why I had been out of the country without permission. In addition to unapproved vacation time, Danny was talking about the travel that I did at night while out of the country. Burkina Faso suggests that volunteers do not travel from region to region at night because there have been "incidents" in the past.
I assured Danny that I had turned in the appropriate forms and that I had not made any unnecessary trips at night while in the north. Sammy was traveling so I wasn't able to confirm that I had turned in my vacation request form and had given verbal notice to Sammy well before leaving my site.
Concerned about the situation, I called Bob (Country Director) to ask what was going on and how this had come up so long after the fact. Bob told me that the Burkina Faso Medical Officers reported that PCVs in Ghana had contacted them about receiving a ride while traveling in Burkina at night. Bob assured me that people have been "admin sep'ed" for less and that it was a serious situation. I was surprisingly concerned for somebody who had not done anything wrong. I told Bob that I was traveling with Cheri and Gray and that the three of us had all turned in our forms when necessary. Upon hearing this, Bob told me that he hadn't received Cheri's form either and that if both us us had traveled without permission, it was DEFINITELY a big deal. Again, I was concerned despite having full knowledge that neither of us had done anything wrong.
I forwarded Bob all old e-mails that I had sent to admin. regarding the vacation but wasn't able to find anything official. I texted Sammy but he was unreachable by phone and I had to go back to site with a big question mark hanging over my head. I called Bob one last time before leaving Koforidua and learned that Cheri's form had in fact been turned in but that mine was missing. I told him that I was planning a trip to Accra Sunday (yesterday) and would make sure to speak with him Monday morning. I then left the land of internet and phone reception and returned to site.
After a somewhat restless night sleep, I woke the the usual commotion of my site. Dorothy, Eva, Augustina and Maku were all yelling and causing a stir at 6am. On this particular morning, the commotion was a bit different from normal so I went outside to see what was happening. Back near the chicken pens, the four girls joined a male neighbor of ours in swinging the longest implements available at a huge black snake!!! By the time I arrived, the snake had been knocked from the tree and was writhing around on the ground while being pummeled from all angles. The snakes head had been bashed and broken so the animal no longer posed a threat but stole the need for any morning caffeine. I was AWAKE!! The snake was about 7 feet long and black with a yellow bellow. I used a stick to poke and prod at the snake so I could get a good look at it and see it's true size. Though this snake could easily have killed any of us, I still felt sorry for it as it offered logy resistance to my manipulation of it's body (I think it was dead but still had some nerve activity). I took a picture and will add visual aid to this entry as soon as I can.
Emmanuel came out and cut the head off the snake so that he could bury body separate from head to ensure that it wouldn't come back. Why was I worried about confusion with paperwork when I was living amongst deadly vipers? Ghana always manages to put things in perspective for me and I'm very grateful for that.
A breakfast of groundnut paste and honey on bread washed down by a hot cup of Moringa tea brought my day back towards normal routine and my Friday continued. I managed to get a hold of Sammy and he assured me that he'd have somebody check his mailbox for my missing paperwork.
On Sunday morning, while traveling to Accra, I got a call from Bob telling me that my paperwork had shown up on Saturday and everything was fine. It somehow didn't make me feel much better that I had to call somebody in order to get paperwork processed six weeks after I had turned it in but at least I was in the clear.
I'm now in Accra picking up St. Ignatius football uniforms for the Bormase team and also wishing my best to Erica (our eleventh to leave and one of the best people currently in Ghana) before she leaves for home. I'm sad to see her leave but I can tell that it's the best move for her.
I'll be back to site today and then in Kumasi for 10 days (consecutive meetings).
Love to all.
Ira
I assured Danny that I had turned in the appropriate forms and that I had not made any unnecessary trips at night while in the north. Sammy was traveling so I wasn't able to confirm that I had turned in my vacation request form and had given verbal notice to Sammy well before leaving my site.
Concerned about the situation, I called Bob (Country Director) to ask what was going on and how this had come up so long after the fact. Bob told me that the Burkina Faso Medical Officers reported that PCVs in Ghana had contacted them about receiving a ride while traveling in Burkina at night. Bob assured me that people have been "admin sep'ed" for less and that it was a serious situation. I was surprisingly concerned for somebody who had not done anything wrong. I told Bob that I was traveling with Cheri and Gray and that the three of us had all turned in our forms when necessary. Upon hearing this, Bob told me that he hadn't received Cheri's form either and that if both us us had traveled without permission, it was DEFINITELY a big deal. Again, I was concerned despite having full knowledge that neither of us had done anything wrong.
I forwarded Bob all old e-mails that I had sent to admin. regarding the vacation but wasn't able to find anything official. I texted Sammy but he was unreachable by phone and I had to go back to site with a big question mark hanging over my head. I called Bob one last time before leaving Koforidua and learned that Cheri's form had in fact been turned in but that mine was missing. I told him that I was planning a trip to Accra Sunday (yesterday) and would make sure to speak with him Monday morning. I then left the land of internet and phone reception and returned to site.
After a somewhat restless night sleep, I woke the the usual commotion of my site. Dorothy, Eva, Augustina and Maku were all yelling and causing a stir at 6am. On this particular morning, the commotion was a bit different from normal so I went outside to see what was happening. Back near the chicken pens, the four girls joined a male neighbor of ours in swinging the longest implements available at a huge black snake!!! By the time I arrived, the snake had been knocked from the tree and was writhing around on the ground while being pummeled from all angles. The snakes head had been bashed and broken so the animal no longer posed a threat but stole the need for any morning caffeine. I was AWAKE!! The snake was about 7 feet long and black with a yellow bellow. I used a stick to poke and prod at the snake so I could get a good look at it and see it's true size. Though this snake could easily have killed any of us, I still felt sorry for it as it offered logy resistance to my manipulation of it's body (I think it was dead but still had some nerve activity). I took a picture and will add visual aid to this entry as soon as I can.
Emmanuel came out and cut the head off the snake so that he could bury body separate from head to ensure that it wouldn't come back. Why was I worried about confusion with paperwork when I was living amongst deadly vipers? Ghana always manages to put things in perspective for me and I'm very grateful for that.
A breakfast of groundnut paste and honey on bread washed down by a hot cup of Moringa tea brought my day back towards normal routine and my Friday continued. I managed to get a hold of Sammy and he assured me that he'd have somebody check his mailbox for my missing paperwork.
On Sunday morning, while traveling to Accra, I got a call from Bob telling me that my paperwork had shown up on Saturday and everything was fine. It somehow didn't make me feel much better that I had to call somebody in order to get paperwork processed six weeks after I had turned it in but at least I was in the clear.
I'm now in Accra picking up St. Ignatius football uniforms for the Bormase team and also wishing my best to Erica (our eleventh to leave and one of the best people currently in Ghana) before she leaves for home. I'm sad to see her leave but I can tell that it's the best move for her.
I'll be back to site today and then in Kumasi for 10 days (consecutive meetings).
Love to all.
Ira
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Personal improvement plan
When a Peace Corps Volunteer isn't performing as he/she should be, he/she is PIPed. The individual will be put on a Personal Improvement Plan during which they must make weekly reports to the Country Director and discuss goals upon which they'll base future success.
I've decided to put PIP myself. I feel as though I'm doing well enough as a volunteer (language still needs work) but there are a number of things that I planned to do when I came to Ghana and time is running out. As more tenured volunteers have their Close of Service, they often have items that they no longer need. In the past two months, I've "inherited," a guitar and a detailed yoga book. I also received several guitar manuals and I've since purchased a yoga mat. Can you believe that they started selling yoga mats at the market? They're not flying off the shelves by any means but it works for me.
Since my dad left, I've been weeding the Moringa field, working with bead makers, reading and personally improving my person. I can now play "Skip to my Lou," with the best of them and the hamstring tightness that I earn while weeding is methodically worked out on the new yoga mat.
I made the mistake of weeding the Moringa field from front to back. Each time I left for vacation or became busy with a new project, I'd have to start again where I left off. This time, I started from the farthest corner and it's like I'm looking for seedlings in the wall at Wrigley Field. The vines are out of control!!
My hands are neither clean nor wound free at any time but a good three hour weeding session with my ipod makes for a great afternoon. This daily session clears my mind and keeps my projects in order.
The PIP I'm on doesn't include current projects and "inherited," goods but I also bought a 6 ft. length of metal pipe (picture the pole supporting your nearest street sign) and bought a bag of cement. Tomorrow, Patrick and I are making a weight set. I will be able to weed the Moringa field, play guitar, read, lift weights, cook dinner and sleep on my nice thick mattress.
Without knowing it, I've been depriving myself of a number of available amenities. Joining Peace Corps gave me the idea that I'd be living without luxury for two plus years but after less than one year, luxury has taken a new meaning.
All around, things are good. There's more to say but I'll save it for next week in case my PIP takes up all my time.
Love to all
Ira
I've decided to put PIP myself. I feel as though I'm doing well enough as a volunteer (language still needs work) but there are a number of things that I planned to do when I came to Ghana and time is running out. As more tenured volunteers have their Close of Service, they often have items that they no longer need. In the past two months, I've "inherited," a guitar and a detailed yoga book. I also received several guitar manuals and I've since purchased a yoga mat. Can you believe that they started selling yoga mats at the market? They're not flying off the shelves by any means but it works for me.
Since my dad left, I've been weeding the Moringa field, working with bead makers, reading and personally improving my person. I can now play "Skip to my Lou," with the best of them and the hamstring tightness that I earn while weeding is methodically worked out on the new yoga mat.
I made the mistake of weeding the Moringa field from front to back. Each time I left for vacation or became busy with a new project, I'd have to start again where I left off. This time, I started from the farthest corner and it's like I'm looking for seedlings in the wall at Wrigley Field. The vines are out of control!!
My hands are neither clean nor wound free at any time but a good three hour weeding session with my ipod makes for a great afternoon. This daily session clears my mind and keeps my projects in order.
The PIP I'm on doesn't include current projects and "inherited," goods but I also bought a 6 ft. length of metal pipe (picture the pole supporting your nearest street sign) and bought a bag of cement. Tomorrow, Patrick and I are making a weight set. I will be able to weed the Moringa field, play guitar, read, lift weights, cook dinner and sleep on my nice thick mattress.
Without knowing it, I've been depriving myself of a number of available amenities. Joining Peace Corps gave me the idea that I'd be living without luxury for two plus years but after less than one year, luxury has taken a new meaning.
All around, things are good. There's more to say but I'll save it for next week in case my PIP takes up all my time.
Love to all
Ira
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Back to the books
With the travel agenda of the past three weeks, proper reading time has been hard to come by. Now that I'm settled in at site and can still finagle at least four hours of reading out of even the most jam packed work day, I'm back in the groove. This week I finally managed to finish "A Prayer for Owen Meany," and "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," before starting on "Slaughterhouse Five."
Aside from checking on the Moringa farm (much of it looks great while other areas look as though I'm looking to harvest weeds) and meeting with bead makers, things in Bormase have been a bit slow.
Two nights ago, however, the Nartey home was given a little scare. As I neared my second REM cycle at around 10pm, I woke to hear somebody screaming "Mommy...Ira...Mommy...Ira." Groggily, I pulled myself out of bed and met Dorothy as she came from her room. Eva, Maku and Augustina share a room and the three of them had heard somebody banging on their door only minutes earlier. In the few steps between my bed and outside, I had pictured everything from a ten foot black mamba to a million rushing ants. When it turned out that a person had come to the house, Dorothy was off. She searched the house and went to the roadside where she met two boys. The boys immediately said "It wasn't us, we heard the girls screaming."
I didn't understand much else as I was half asleep and the remaining conversation was in Krobo and at very high speed. Over the past few days, Dorothy has contacted all the necessary people and believes that she met the culprits on the road. It is pretty clear that the didn't mean any harm but with the fear that Dorothy has since put in them, I'd be surprised to be awakened in a similar fashion any time soon.
Love to all
Ira
Aside from checking on the Moringa farm (much of it looks great while other areas look as though I'm looking to harvest weeds) and meeting with bead makers, things in Bormase have been a bit slow.
Two nights ago, however, the Nartey home was given a little scare. As I neared my second REM cycle at around 10pm, I woke to hear somebody screaming "Mommy...Ira...Mommy...Ira." Groggily, I pulled myself out of bed and met Dorothy as she came from her room. Eva, Maku and Augustina share a room and the three of them had heard somebody banging on their door only minutes earlier. In the few steps between my bed and outside, I had pictured everything from a ten foot black mamba to a million rushing ants. When it turned out that a person had come to the house, Dorothy was off. She searched the house and went to the roadside where she met two boys. The boys immediately said "It wasn't us, we heard the girls screaming."
I didn't understand much else as I was half asleep and the remaining conversation was in Krobo and at very high speed. Over the past few days, Dorothy has contacted all the necessary people and believes that she met the culprits on the road. It is pretty clear that the didn't mean any harm but with the fear that Dorothy has since put in them, I'd be surprised to be awakened in a similar fashion any time soon.
Love to all
Ira
Friday, August 8, 2008
Miracle weight loss plan
I left my dad at Kotoka Airport roughly an hour ago and he was a visibly changed man. Not only was he not soaking every article of clothing at every hour of the day but he was at least 25 pounds lighter!!
You too can come to Ghana, eat burgers, fries and pasta while enjoying 625ml beers with lunch and dinner. Eat what you want and you can still lose 25 lbs or more in only 3 weeks!!!
To counterbalance the loss in weight, I sent my dad home with at least 30 pounds of Ghanaian jewelry. The last few days of his trip were spent in Bormase where we harvested Moringa, toured the village and slept. We watched Patrick work endless hours to produce more beautiful jewelry to send to America. We visited the Sekesua market in order to see Dorothy at work. When there was a break in the action, it was nap time. It wasn't uncommon to sleep 10-12 hours per night and still work in a nap or two during the day. Ahhh Peace Corps life!!
While in Accra, we met with fellow Peace Corps Volunteer Emily (the 13th PCV from my group that my dad met while in country) and her Global Mama co-workers for dinner. Global Mamas is a fair trade company based in Cape Coast and Odumase. Emily works with batik printers and bead makers and our dinner involved talks about involving Bormase workers in production. I'm very excited about the prospect of involving my village in permanent business. We'll see how it works out but as things are now, Patrick has no health insurance and has a son sitting at home waiting for the necessary funds for further education. The shipment that my dad took along today should help for the meantime but once I'm gone I would love for Patrick and others to be able to be able to reap more tangible rewards for their hard work.
That's all for now.
Love to all
You too can come to Ghana, eat burgers, fries and pasta while enjoying 625ml beers with lunch and dinner. Eat what you want and you can still lose 25 lbs or more in only 3 weeks!!!
To counterbalance the loss in weight, I sent my dad home with at least 30 pounds of Ghanaian jewelry. The last few days of his trip were spent in Bormase where we harvested Moringa, toured the village and slept. We watched Patrick work endless hours to produce more beautiful jewelry to send to America. We visited the Sekesua market in order to see Dorothy at work. When there was a break in the action, it was nap time. It wasn't uncommon to sleep 10-12 hours per night and still work in a nap or two during the day. Ahhh Peace Corps life!!
While in Accra, we met with fellow Peace Corps Volunteer Emily (the 13th PCV from my group that my dad met while in country) and her Global Mama co-workers for dinner. Global Mamas is a fair trade company based in Cape Coast and Odumase. Emily works with batik printers and bead makers and our dinner involved talks about involving Bormase workers in production. I'm very excited about the prospect of involving my village in permanent business. We'll see how it works out but as things are now, Patrick has no health insurance and has a son sitting at home waiting for the necessary funds for further education. The shipment that my dad took along today should help for the meantime but once I'm gone I would love for Patrick and others to be able to be able to reap more tangible rewards for their hard work.
That's all for now.
Love to all
Friday, August 1, 2008
A Dogon good time
I'm a year older and the Shaughnessy family has added a member to an extended version of a famous Ghanaian club. The whirlwind tour has continued and my Dad has joined me in seven (out of ten) regions of Ghana, various parts of Burkina Faso and the amazing Dogon country of Mali.
My Dad and I met Cheri and Gray in Tamale for a pre-trip dinner. Up to this point, the plan was to meet in Bolgatanga on the 23rd of July, travel through Burkina Faso into Mali, walk around Dogon country and aim to return to Ghana by August 1st. Aside from these loose plans, we were winging it entirely. Meeting in Tamale on the 22nd was an unexpected surprise and offered some mellow conversation as a precursor to intense travel. Gray, Cheri, my Dad and I got along swimmingly and were ready to carve adventure out of a roughly planned vacation.
The four of us traveled via Mass Metro bus to Bolgatanga on the 23rd and my Dad's crash course in West Africa continued. We continued to travel north as temperatures increased, road quality decreased and lodging became more sketchy. Bolga was new territory to all of us so we played tug of war from "wing it," and "tourist guide book," sides of the spectrum. We three PCV's stayed at a dorm style Catholic guesthouse while my Dad was set up in a self contained AC room a few blocks away. A nice dinner, great conversation and some piedro (look it up if you've never played) lessons brought us to the end of the night and time to part ways. Dad's key to his room didn't work so we had to track down a hotel employee. The employee couldn't open the door so after several minutes of struggling with the lock, I got the distinct pleasure of kicking in the door to a hotel room. I was given permission to kick in the door to a hotel room!! The room was open, an ipod was mysteriously missing and the adventure had undoubtedly begun.
By early afternoon on July 24th, each member of our group had sat on a crocodile, received a passport stamp and struggled to gain directions with limited french. My Dad blew the rest of us out of the water regarding French fluency; a typical conversation that he undertook would contain at best equal parts Spanish, English and French. Spirits were high and we enjoyed steak sandwiches, beer and stories from Burkina PCVs. We stayed in Ouagadougou for two nights in order to allow for laundry and rest. A second night with volunteers gave my Dad further insight into the Peace Corps life. Several Burkina Faso volunteers were enjoying their final week of service and seemed to enjoy sharing pluses and minuses of service with the rest of us. I always love to hear varying perspectives and my Dad was clearly interested in hearing more about the 2+ year experience. Peace Corps Ghana and Peace Corps Burkina traded envious accounts of the luxuries offered in the others' host nation. It seems that Ghana offers the beach along with better beer, chicken, rice and produce while Burkina has steak, strawberries, baguettes and dairy products. The grass is always greener.
Burkina volunteers helped arrange a 5:30 taxi to the bus station and we were on our way to another country. We were convinced that an official Visa (nearly 180 US dollars) was unnecessary and that we would be able to offer 10,000 CFA (roughly 26 US dollars) at the Mali border and would get an "unofficial" stamp.
We caught the 6am bus to Ouahiguiya having been assured that we could get a connecting "bush taxi" to Koro and would be in Mali by 1:30pm. We made it to Oahiguiya by 9am, had a small breakfast, loaded up on CFA and we were ready to continue. We bought bush taxi tickets, bought kola nuts for Mali and then we waited. We waited 4 hours before being prompted by a dutch NGO worker to pay a bit more money for the remaining seats in the bush taxi. We paid the extra money and joined an incredibly uncomfortable van. The front seat consisted of a driver and two passengers as usual. Behind the front seat, there were a pair of love seat size benches facing one another. There were two more benches going back and the last three benches had fold-up jump seats beside them. I initially climbed into the back seat but the bench was tilted to such a degree that the woman to my left could barely see through the window while I had to bend my neck in order to press my ear to the ceiling. Cheri and I sat in the rear facing bench behind the driver seat. We were pressed knee to knee with a couple from French Guyana and a Burkinabe (that's right, it's not Burkinian or Burkina Fasoan) man who sounded like a French Mike Tyson. Despite paying for 3 extra seats, we were loaded up to the brim. Anxious to get to Mali and meet our guide Oumar, our group didn't mind the discomfort as the car pulled away on the way toward Mali.
Within mere minutes, we all had t-shirts or bandannas pulled over our faces as we learned that the majority of the car's exhaust was being spewed back INSIDE the car. We tore through mud puddles at a pace just above a crawl and two flat tires and billions of asphyxiated brain cells later, we were in Koro at sundown. We passed several camels, managed to get our passports stamped and geared what little energy we maintained towards the days ahead. Oumar met our groggy crew with enthusiasm and a big smile. Born in Dogon, Oumar learned English in school and now spoke with a hodgepodge accent acquired through ten years of guiding English speakers from around the world (he's 29). A cold beer, some travel discussion and a deep sleep got us through our first night in Bankass, Mali.
The first day of our guided Dogon tour began on a horse cart. Having added Oumar, the five of us were led 12km by horse cart toward Tely and thousand year old cliff dwellings. The heat was wearing us out but watching a Malian horse cart driver walk 12km through puddles while pushing and pulling the horse with full force kept us from complaining. Mid-rainy season, we saw great puddles and a good amount of green in what is 120 degrees and dry for much of the year. Each kilometer traveled offered a greater view of the escarpment ahead. Upon arriving in the first village, we were led to a shady rooftop and given water to wash our hands and faces. We dropped our bags, rested briefly and were then taken on a 3km walk up and around the escarpment. Initially built as protection from wild animals and enemies, the cliff dwellings now sit above a village of roughly 1200 Malians. Many Dogons are Animist but each village we went to visit was a mix of Animist, Muslim and Christian. Words and photos can't properly describe this first day. We had heard great stories about Dogon country and were constantly told that it was a "must see," but we were still unprepared. It is absolutely breathtaking.
After the initial 3km hike, we had a lunch break and were offered a few hours of chill time. We had a nice lunch of rice and even tasted the local millet dish with Baobab stew. My dad hung around for a nap while Gray, Cheri and I went exploring. In the distance, a very small waterfall was visible. We came upon a dozen Malian girls using boulders as water slides and diving boards. The three of us hiked around in the cool mid-day shade and looked on in wonderment as the spray of the waterfall moved around like a slow pendulum. The amount of water was small enough and spraying from such a great height that the slightest gust of wind would bring a spray of water following us around the rock basin. Oumar repeatedly requested the we not swim because two white tourists were "boiled in the water," when they went swimming and angered the water. We didn't swim but enjoyed the cool shade and the sprinklings of cold water while watching numerous Malians on horseback or cow as they watered the parched animals.
The afternoon provided a relaxed 4km walk through the shadows of cliffs and baobabs. We ended the night in Oumar's hometown and were shown around to indigo dyers and mudcloth makers. The artwork was absolutely beautiful and the relaxing evening was a nice break considering adventures to come.
The first words I heard spoken on my 26th Birthday were along the lines of "Oumar, I woke up twice with explosive diarrhea and couldn't find water to clean up after myself." I guess there's not only "Ghana tummy," but "Mali tummy," as well. Though we'd been careful with food and water, the millions of exotic bacteria seemed to have worked their way into my Dad's system. At 26 years old, I was suddenly in the role of father to my father. ORS and biscuits were forced on my dad with 6km and 8km walks ahead of us.
Several shady water breaks and an introduction to "free ranging," brought us to the next village (Gray wrote down the names so I'll add them when I hear back from him). A hand of piedro and some more forced water had my dad feeling better. Sweating like a beast combined with diarrhea and not enough water is an exhausting combination.
Our 4 hour break offered a much needed cool down option but my dad was only able to eat a bit of lunch. It was decided that Cheri, Gray and I would hike the next portion and my dad would take a cow cart and meet us at the next village. Oumar told us at the beginning of the trip that this 8km was the most "amazing," but also the most difficult. In retrospect it's clear that my dad would have had a hard time if his health was 100%. After 20 minutes of uphill hiking, the four of us were winded and borderline nauseous. We were climbing at an incredible rate on a natural switchback staircase. The climb continued for 2km and we while catching our breath and enjoying a rewarding view, we learned that current villagers make this hike whenever they need to visit neighboring villages. Until recently, women would carry loads to market while hiking this same route with no shoes. A tough touristy hike for us is a daily commute for so many others.
We climbed across a horizontal ladder and faced the 200 foot drop below as the hike continued. From here on out, the hike consisted of slight ups and downs but no serious climbs like at the beginning. Within minutes, it felt as though we were back at ground level. The cliffs were no longer in view and lush farm plots peppered the rocky terrain wherever possible. While still catching our breath, we passed an ancient barefoot man with a local tobacco pipe clenched between his teeth. Again, we were humbled by the real-life difficulty of the terrain and the man smiled at us and worked away at his harvest.
The afternoon hike went by surprisingly quickly. Our new group dynamic allowed for a faster pace and we were all perfectly content in awestruck silence. We passed one Animist village and walked amongst Dogon people listening to Oumar greet as he passed. My best attempt at the confusing greeting follows:
Owana
Useo?
Seo
U
Useo
Seo
O
Oseo
I'm sure it's clear that I have no idea what they were saying but Oumar would not stop to greet but simply made the same exchange with passersby. We couldn't help but smile at first but at the end we did our best to make a similar exchange with excited Dogon elders.
A sunset descent brought us to our home for the night. Surrounded by precariously balanced 100+ ton boulders and good friends and family, I was a happy birthday boy.
It turns out that my dad had to hike the last 1km uphill to meet us and that alone had really worn him out. He was happily resting and it was clear that he had made the right decision by taking a cart rather than hiking. Gray produced a birthday gift of a fine cigar and after cool bucket baths, the four of us (my dad less so) enjoyed cold beer, a fine cigar and a taste of local tobacco through a traditional pipe. My dad remained in good spirits despite his condition and the four of us shared what was surely one of my best birthdays to date. A rooftop bed with only a mosquito net between me and the unbelievably clear sky ended a truly sensational day.
Still elated from the day before, I came upon Gray doing wash in the early morning light. With no sign of worry, Gray was washing my dad's shorts, telling me that Papa Shag had joined the infamous club that clearly expands beyond Ghana. Father to my father duties continued through the morning. I helped my dad clean himself up and forced electrolyte tabs and overwhelming amounts of water on him. Reluctant to drink the warm water, I was forced to emphasize the danger of dehydration in Africa. He continued his day via cow cart with 5 liters of water (2 liters cold with Gatorade powder provided by Gray) in tow. We three PCVs proceeded for a fast paced 13km day through forced farmland and beautiful views. Oumar pointed out a dead viper during the walk and assured us that the 7 inch snake could easily kill a man in 5 minutes. Oumar had told us earlier how Dogon people don't go under fig trees during hot days because the devil sits in the branches and will kill them (snake and devil one and the same?). I have no doubt that our group passed dozens of deadly snakes of the 4 day hike but Oumar took great care of us and we made it through virtually unscathed.
The end of the third day included a descent as intense as the initial climb. Swallows and egrets circled above as we finished a descent that Indiana Jones would appreciate. Another night of good food, piedro and bathroom breaks led us to our last morning in Dogon country.
My dad took off on cow cart while Oumar took us to another cliff side village and showed us the circumcision board. Dogon men partake in group circumcisions at 14 years of age and sleep on a wooden board for 21 days before returning to society. Dogon girls are circumcised at 2-3 years of age and despite our shock, Oumar showed no sign that he shared our dismay at the tradition. Oumar continued to tell us that Dogon men have their first marriage arranged by their parents and that cultural hierarchy plays a big part in this decision. After the first marriage is arranged, men are free to choose additional wives for themselves.
A 3km walk through dunes of the Sahel desert brought us to meet a driver and my dad on cow cart. An hour and a half in an uncomfortable car brought us back to Koro and to the end of our trip to Mali (one flat tire and getting stuck in a deep puddle included). We again payed for extra seats in a bush taxi (comfortable this time) in order to leave on time. We barely made it to Ouahiguiya in time to catch the last bus to Ouagadougou. We actually missed the bus but some travel mates from the Koro-Ouhiguiya leg made the driver make a loop in order to find us and keep our trip going.
We arrived in Ouagadougou at around midnight and chowed down on burgers while mosquitos did the same to our shins. We slept in for once and traveled another 6 hours back to Bolgatanga. 5 hours of sleep got us to the bus station as a groggy group and Gray split off for a trip to the Upper West region of Ghana. My dad, Cheri and I got to Tamale by 9am and explored the Northern Region capital for the day. My dad bought beautiful gifts at Colwoods, a store run by battered and abandoned women. Unfortunately, I somehow lost the bag of goodies so while the proceeds will still go to a good cause, the gifts may not make it to the intended recipients.
The three of us shared a nice lunch before Cheri left us to run errands. I did my best to put this blog entry together in Tamale but the power went out and I was stuck half way through. My dad and I took the 4pm STC bus from Tamale to Accra and arrived this morning at around 3am. He's feeling better over time and another relaxing day in Accra should prepare us to go back to Bormase.
More to come. I'm still groggy so I hope this entry does the trip justice.
Love to all!!
My Dad and I met Cheri and Gray in Tamale for a pre-trip dinner. Up to this point, the plan was to meet in Bolgatanga on the 23rd of July, travel through Burkina Faso into Mali, walk around Dogon country and aim to return to Ghana by August 1st. Aside from these loose plans, we were winging it entirely. Meeting in Tamale on the 22nd was an unexpected surprise and offered some mellow conversation as a precursor to intense travel. Gray, Cheri, my Dad and I got along swimmingly and were ready to carve adventure out of a roughly planned vacation.
The four of us traveled via Mass Metro bus to Bolgatanga on the 23rd and my Dad's crash course in West Africa continued. We continued to travel north as temperatures increased, road quality decreased and lodging became more sketchy. Bolga was new territory to all of us so we played tug of war from "wing it," and "tourist guide book," sides of the spectrum. We three PCV's stayed at a dorm style Catholic guesthouse while my Dad was set up in a self contained AC room a few blocks away. A nice dinner, great conversation and some piedro (look it up if you've never played) lessons brought us to the end of the night and time to part ways. Dad's key to his room didn't work so we had to track down a hotel employee. The employee couldn't open the door so after several minutes of struggling with the lock, I got the distinct pleasure of kicking in the door to a hotel room. I was given permission to kick in the door to a hotel room!! The room was open, an ipod was mysteriously missing and the adventure had undoubtedly begun.
By early afternoon on July 24th, each member of our group had sat on a crocodile, received a passport stamp and struggled to gain directions with limited french. My Dad blew the rest of us out of the water regarding French fluency; a typical conversation that he undertook would contain at best equal parts Spanish, English and French. Spirits were high and we enjoyed steak sandwiches, beer and stories from Burkina PCVs. We stayed in Ouagadougou for two nights in order to allow for laundry and rest. A second night with volunteers gave my Dad further insight into the Peace Corps life. Several Burkina Faso volunteers were enjoying their final week of service and seemed to enjoy sharing pluses and minuses of service with the rest of us. I always love to hear varying perspectives and my Dad was clearly interested in hearing more about the 2+ year experience. Peace Corps Ghana and Peace Corps Burkina traded envious accounts of the luxuries offered in the others' host nation. It seems that Ghana offers the beach along with better beer, chicken, rice and produce while Burkina has steak, strawberries, baguettes and dairy products. The grass is always greener.
Burkina volunteers helped arrange a 5:30 taxi to the bus station and we were on our way to another country. We were convinced that an official Visa (nearly 180 US dollars) was unnecessary and that we would be able to offer 10,000 CFA (roughly 26 US dollars) at the Mali border and would get an "unofficial" stamp.
We caught the 6am bus to Ouahiguiya having been assured that we could get a connecting "bush taxi" to Koro and would be in Mali by 1:30pm. We made it to Oahiguiya by 9am, had a small breakfast, loaded up on CFA and we were ready to continue. We bought bush taxi tickets, bought kola nuts for Mali and then we waited. We waited 4 hours before being prompted by a dutch NGO worker to pay a bit more money for the remaining seats in the bush taxi. We paid the extra money and joined an incredibly uncomfortable van. The front seat consisted of a driver and two passengers as usual. Behind the front seat, there were a pair of love seat size benches facing one another. There were two more benches going back and the last three benches had fold-up jump seats beside them. I initially climbed into the back seat but the bench was tilted to such a degree that the woman to my left could barely see through the window while I had to bend my neck in order to press my ear to the ceiling. Cheri and I sat in the rear facing bench behind the driver seat. We were pressed knee to knee with a couple from French Guyana and a Burkinabe (that's right, it's not Burkinian or Burkina Fasoan) man who sounded like a French Mike Tyson. Despite paying for 3 extra seats, we were loaded up to the brim. Anxious to get to Mali and meet our guide Oumar, our group didn't mind the discomfort as the car pulled away on the way toward Mali.
Within mere minutes, we all had t-shirts or bandannas pulled over our faces as we learned that the majority of the car's exhaust was being spewed back INSIDE the car. We tore through mud puddles at a pace just above a crawl and two flat tires and billions of asphyxiated brain cells later, we were in Koro at sundown. We passed several camels, managed to get our passports stamped and geared what little energy we maintained towards the days ahead. Oumar met our groggy crew with enthusiasm and a big smile. Born in Dogon, Oumar learned English in school and now spoke with a hodgepodge accent acquired through ten years of guiding English speakers from around the world (he's 29). A cold beer, some travel discussion and a deep sleep got us through our first night in Bankass, Mali.
The first day of our guided Dogon tour began on a horse cart. Having added Oumar, the five of us were led 12km by horse cart toward Tely and thousand year old cliff dwellings. The heat was wearing us out but watching a Malian horse cart driver walk 12km through puddles while pushing and pulling the horse with full force kept us from complaining. Mid-rainy season, we saw great puddles and a good amount of green in what is 120 degrees and dry for much of the year. Each kilometer traveled offered a greater view of the escarpment ahead. Upon arriving in the first village, we were led to a shady rooftop and given water to wash our hands and faces. We dropped our bags, rested briefly and were then taken on a 3km walk up and around the escarpment. Initially built as protection from wild animals and enemies, the cliff dwellings now sit above a village of roughly 1200 Malians. Many Dogons are Animist but each village we went to visit was a mix of Animist, Muslim and Christian. Words and photos can't properly describe this first day. We had heard great stories about Dogon country and were constantly told that it was a "must see," but we were still unprepared. It is absolutely breathtaking.
After the initial 3km hike, we had a lunch break and were offered a few hours of chill time. We had a nice lunch of rice and even tasted the local millet dish with Baobab stew. My dad hung around for a nap while Gray, Cheri and I went exploring. In the distance, a very small waterfall was visible. We came upon a dozen Malian girls using boulders as water slides and diving boards. The three of us hiked around in the cool mid-day shade and looked on in wonderment as the spray of the waterfall moved around like a slow pendulum. The amount of water was small enough and spraying from such a great height that the slightest gust of wind would bring a spray of water following us around the rock basin. Oumar repeatedly requested the we not swim because two white tourists were "boiled in the water," when they went swimming and angered the water. We didn't swim but enjoyed the cool shade and the sprinklings of cold water while watching numerous Malians on horseback or cow as they watered the parched animals.
The afternoon provided a relaxed 4km walk through the shadows of cliffs and baobabs. We ended the night in Oumar's hometown and were shown around to indigo dyers and mudcloth makers. The artwork was absolutely beautiful and the relaxing evening was a nice break considering adventures to come.
The first words I heard spoken on my 26th Birthday were along the lines of "Oumar, I woke up twice with explosive diarrhea and couldn't find water to clean up after myself." I guess there's not only "Ghana tummy," but "Mali tummy," as well. Though we'd been careful with food and water, the millions of exotic bacteria seemed to have worked their way into my Dad's system. At 26 years old, I was suddenly in the role of father to my father. ORS and biscuits were forced on my dad with 6km and 8km walks ahead of us.
Several shady water breaks and an introduction to "free ranging," brought us to the next village (Gray wrote down the names so I'll add them when I hear back from him). A hand of piedro and some more forced water had my dad feeling better. Sweating like a beast combined with diarrhea and not enough water is an exhausting combination.
Our 4 hour break offered a much needed cool down option but my dad was only able to eat a bit of lunch. It was decided that Cheri, Gray and I would hike the next portion and my dad would take a cow cart and meet us at the next village. Oumar told us at the beginning of the trip that this 8km was the most "amazing," but also the most difficult. In retrospect it's clear that my dad would have had a hard time if his health was 100%. After 20 minutes of uphill hiking, the four of us were winded and borderline nauseous. We were climbing at an incredible rate on a natural switchback staircase. The climb continued for 2km and we while catching our breath and enjoying a rewarding view, we learned that current villagers make this hike whenever they need to visit neighboring villages. Until recently, women would carry loads to market while hiking this same route with no shoes. A tough touristy hike for us is a daily commute for so many others.
We climbed across a horizontal ladder and faced the 200 foot drop below as the hike continued. From here on out, the hike consisted of slight ups and downs but no serious climbs like at the beginning. Within minutes, it felt as though we were back at ground level. The cliffs were no longer in view and lush farm plots peppered the rocky terrain wherever possible. While still catching our breath, we passed an ancient barefoot man with a local tobacco pipe clenched between his teeth. Again, we were humbled by the real-life difficulty of the terrain and the man smiled at us and worked away at his harvest.
The afternoon hike went by surprisingly quickly. Our new group dynamic allowed for a faster pace and we were all perfectly content in awestruck silence. We passed one Animist village and walked amongst Dogon people listening to Oumar greet as he passed. My best attempt at the confusing greeting follows:
Owana
Useo?
Seo
U
Useo
Seo
O
Oseo
I'm sure it's clear that I have no idea what they were saying but Oumar would not stop to greet but simply made the same exchange with passersby. We couldn't help but smile at first but at the end we did our best to make a similar exchange with excited Dogon elders.
A sunset descent brought us to our home for the night. Surrounded by precariously balanced 100+ ton boulders and good friends and family, I was a happy birthday boy.
It turns out that my dad had to hike the last 1km uphill to meet us and that alone had really worn him out. He was happily resting and it was clear that he had made the right decision by taking a cart rather than hiking. Gray produced a birthday gift of a fine cigar and after cool bucket baths, the four of us (my dad less so) enjoyed cold beer, a fine cigar and a taste of local tobacco through a traditional pipe. My dad remained in good spirits despite his condition and the four of us shared what was surely one of my best birthdays to date. A rooftop bed with only a mosquito net between me and the unbelievably clear sky ended a truly sensational day.
Still elated from the day before, I came upon Gray doing wash in the early morning light. With no sign of worry, Gray was washing my dad's shorts, telling me that Papa Shag had joined the infamous club that clearly expands beyond Ghana. Father to my father duties continued through the morning. I helped my dad clean himself up and forced electrolyte tabs and overwhelming amounts of water on him. Reluctant to drink the warm water, I was forced to emphasize the danger of dehydration in Africa. He continued his day via cow cart with 5 liters of water (2 liters cold with Gatorade powder provided by Gray) in tow. We three PCVs proceeded for a fast paced 13km day through forced farmland and beautiful views. Oumar pointed out a dead viper during the walk and assured us that the 7 inch snake could easily kill a man in 5 minutes. Oumar had told us earlier how Dogon people don't go under fig trees during hot days because the devil sits in the branches and will kill them (snake and devil one and the same?). I have no doubt that our group passed dozens of deadly snakes of the 4 day hike but Oumar took great care of us and we made it through virtually unscathed.
The end of the third day included a descent as intense as the initial climb. Swallows and egrets circled above as we finished a descent that Indiana Jones would appreciate. Another night of good food, piedro and bathroom breaks led us to our last morning in Dogon country.
My dad took off on cow cart while Oumar took us to another cliff side village and showed us the circumcision board. Dogon men partake in group circumcisions at 14 years of age and sleep on a wooden board for 21 days before returning to society. Dogon girls are circumcised at 2-3 years of age and despite our shock, Oumar showed no sign that he shared our dismay at the tradition. Oumar continued to tell us that Dogon men have their first marriage arranged by their parents and that cultural hierarchy plays a big part in this decision. After the first marriage is arranged, men are free to choose additional wives for themselves.
A 3km walk through dunes of the Sahel desert brought us to meet a driver and my dad on cow cart. An hour and a half in an uncomfortable car brought us back to Koro and to the end of our trip to Mali (one flat tire and getting stuck in a deep puddle included). We again payed for extra seats in a bush taxi (comfortable this time) in order to leave on time. We barely made it to Ouahiguiya in time to catch the last bus to Ouagadougou. We actually missed the bus but some travel mates from the Koro-Ouhiguiya leg made the driver make a loop in order to find us and keep our trip going.
We arrived in Ouagadougou at around midnight and chowed down on burgers while mosquitos did the same to our shins. We slept in for once and traveled another 6 hours back to Bolgatanga. 5 hours of sleep got us to the bus station as a groggy group and Gray split off for a trip to the Upper West region of Ghana. My dad, Cheri and I got to Tamale by 9am and explored the Northern Region capital for the day. My dad bought beautiful gifts at Colwoods, a store run by battered and abandoned women. Unfortunately, I somehow lost the bag of goodies so while the proceeds will still go to a good cause, the gifts may not make it to the intended recipients.
The three of us shared a nice lunch before Cheri left us to run errands. I did my best to put this blog entry together in Tamale but the power went out and I was stuck half way through. My dad and I took the 4pm STC bus from Tamale to Accra and arrived this morning at around 3am. He's feeling better over time and another relaxing day in Accra should prepare us to go back to Bormase.
More to come. I'm still groggy so I hope this entry does the trip justice.
Love to all!!
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