Same country, different world

As I may have mentioned previously, Ghana is the size of the state of Oregon. It's not an especially large country but with roughly 22 million people and over 75 different languages, Ghana can provide a WIDE variety of experiences in a relatively small area.

A bit more than a week ago, I took a short trip to Accra to meet up with an SI alum. Lauren is the older sister of my fathers current student. The friend of a friend of a friend meet-ups aren't always great but when in Ghana, such a person is like family. It was so nice to be able to share an American style meal, discuss San Francisco, St. Ignatius and other common interests. Chatting with somebody who's relatively new to Ghana also re-opens my eyes to those things that I've begun to take for granted. "God is Great Fast Food," is a bland version of what you'll see on restaurants around Ghana. "Still To No The Answer Man," is far from the most garbled attempt at an insightful statement that one might see plastered across the back windscreen of a taxi cab. After only 4 months in country, I'm barely notice these things. I remember looking around in awe at what now seem like the most normal occurences. Lauren, thanks again for lunch and for opening my eyes again to the great things that are around me every day.

From Accra, I boarded a crowded tro headed north. After 3 of the 4 scheduled travel hours had passed, some part of the tro began to drag on the "highway." All 20 passengers piled out onto the roadside as the sun was beginning to set and the first raindrops in almost 2 months began to fall. I've heard horror stories from other PCV's regarding tro troubles and I was preparing to endure my first when within 10 minutes of breaking down, a luxury bus pulled over to pick us up. This STC bus is like a Greyhound with air conditioning and AWFUL Ghanaian film/soap operas playing on small televisions. I'll take bad Ghanaian TV over waiting in the rain on the roadside any day.

One more full day of travel, a night at the Peace Corps office and I was ready to visit a new world. In preparation, Cheri and I purchased some basic provisions and some traditional girts for her village elders. She and I shared the experience of selecting which live chicken (a gift for the assemblyman of Kpendua) might be best. After choosing a beautiful and very large rooster, we boarded the lorry. In the north, tros are called lorries and instead of carrying 20 passengers, they carry 50-60 passengers inside and another 20-30 passengers on top. We enjoyed the 2+ hour ride with bags on laps, Ghanaian butts, babies and breasts in our faces and a live chicken between my feet. We took the trip in stride and arrived in Kpendua ready for anything.

In Ghana, the farther north you travel, the more "tribal" things become. As a stranger (they prefer this term to guest or friend) in Kpendua, it is important to visit and officially greet all important elders. When greeting, the more important the individual, the lower you bow while shaking hands. When greeting a chief, you get into a deep squat and slowly clap your hands while answering several standard greetings. Most responses to Dagbani (local Dagomba language) greetings are "Na," so despite my lack of knowledge, I was able to wing it pretty well. Most Ghanaians can squat with their heels on the ground for hours upon hours. I on the other hand found myself in a deep squat with my weight on my toes and my muscles on the verge of failure on many occasions. Luckily, greetings went well and both chiefs received my cola nut gifts graciously. Cola nuts are about the size of a walnut. They are red (white cola nuts can be offered during sacrifices), smooth and less round than a walnut but comparable in size. The taste is incredibly bitter and these traditional gifts suck the moisture from your mouth faster than you can imagine.

Kpendua has the look and feel that I imagined when learning that I'd be serving in Ghana. Houses are round and have straw roofs. Chiefs wear traditional clothing and daily routine comes to a halt 5 times each day for muslim prayer.


After greeting chiefs, elders, the assemblyman and other important people. Cheri and I returned to her home having been gifted one watermelon, one duck, one fish and a dozen large yams!! This is so drastically different from my site, it's amazing.

While in Kpendua, I experienced many things for the first time. I helped with Guinea Worm surveillance (look this up for more details. Ghana is one of 4 countries that still has Guinea Worm. Kpendua has no current cases but shares a dam with a neighboring village that has recently announced 7 new cases.) Cheri is a Water and Sanitation volunteer so she was the expert, I just followed around while we checked the quality of filters.

I ate my first bush rat (like a city rat but larger. The head and tail are given to the children as a treat so I'm not sure what part(s) I ate. I helped pluck a duck while it was still warm. I helped hand out fried meat to children the morning after fire festival (I'll get to this). These children came around much like trick or treaters but instead of offering candy, you give meat or money. I travelled in a cargo lorry with 3 cows, 5 goats and at least 50 people.

Back to fire festival:

9 days after the first new moon of the calendar year, the Dagomba people celebrate Fire Festival. According to oral tradition, a prophet once disappeared during the first new moon of the new year and 9 days later, while searching with large torches, the prophet was found (this is the best I can do with the language barrier). People run around with huge flaming bundles of dried grass, cutlasses (machetes) and shotguns. This celebration is seen as the first opportunity to rid your body of juju magic (similar to voodoo) so people cover their bodies with white powder, wave fire, wield knives and shoot guns into the air. When arriving in Kpendua, I wasn't clear on all of these details and expected fewer knives and guns and much more organization. The evening went roughly as follows: We met at the assemblymans house for dinner (fried chicken, fried duck, t-zed (it's short for another name. Maize flour stirred into a goopy porridge) and soup). From dinner, we collected our sticks for burning and walked as a group over to the chiefs palace to begin the festivities. Within 10 seconds of arriving at the chiefs palace, we were dancing in a circle with over one hundred Ghanaians, many of whom were covered in white dust and waving guns and knives!!!! The dancing circle dispersed as some brush was set on fire. We stepped over flaming patches of grass as we lit our own sticks and with a camera in one hand, a 6 foot torch in the other hand and adrenaline pulsing through our bodies, Cheri and I walked through town amongst hundreds of elated Dagombas of all ages.


After maybe 30 minutes (felt like 30 seconds) of dodging embers, taking photos and jumping at the sound of random shotgun blasts, we arrived at a tree, threw our torches and returned to the chiefs palace. Countless patches of grass remained ablaze as wild singing and dancing erupted. Traditional songs and dances continued for hours until it was announced that the "warriors," would return from a neighboring town with drums for a performance. We waited at the assemblymans house and munched on fried duck as the adrenaline drained and midnight approached. Growing tired and impatient, we returned to the chiefs palace to inquire about a timeframe. We learned that the warriors had played too hard in the previous village and had split the skin on every drum. While I would have loved to see the warrior dance, I was completely drained and ready to call it a night. Not what I expected, the Fire Festival was unbelievable!!

This entry is LONG so I'll speed it up a bit. A few days after Fire Festival, Cheri and I left Kpendua in style. I got the back seat and was able to extend my tired legs atop a heated, vibrating leather ottoman while Cheri reclined and napped in her open air seat. In actuality, I sat on an oil drum with my legs across the back of a live cow and Cheri was contorted (still napping) atop several sacks of maize.

Today, we'll see Tunisia play Senegal and South Africa play Angola in the African Cup of Nations!! I'm tired but willing to power through for what will be another experience within an experience.

Love to all!!

(One of these days, maybe I'll proofread one of my entries. So far, I write until it's time to stop and I post what I've written. I hope you can follow.)

Unplanned day number 2

While eating my Sunday morning breakfast, Emmanuel suggested that I attend church with Dorothy. Rather than going church a few hundred yards from the house, we would go to one in a neighboring town. I got ready in a hurry and on my way out the door I learned a valuable lesson. "When you live in a mud house, don't slam doors!" My door wasn't closing so I added a little umph and took down a huge chunk of my wall in the process. Nobody in the family paid any notice so the day continued.

Dorothy and I took a short cab ride to Sekesua and walked the remaining half mile to church. We joined the other two people in the church and sat for a while as others trickled in. I sat through 2 hours of mass (naturally didn't understand much) and at the end I was brought up the the front of the church so Dorothy could introduce me further. I didn't understand the introduction so I stood in front of 50 or so strangers as looked and laughed as jokes were told.

Somewhat worn out by the long mass, I was ready to head home and do some laundry or other work around the house. Instead, I learned that we would be walking 5 miles in the middle of the afternoon to a funeral. I walked with the Christian Mothers group for almost an hour and a half!! I felt like such a wuss. I was tired of walking and the women around me were all 50-70+ years old. To top it off, we were going to the funeral of a woman who made this walk every Wednesday with her market goods and every Sunday in order to attend church.

Long story short, we walked an hour plus in each direction in order to sit at the funeral for an hour in total. I was beat. I'm kinda beat now too. I'll add pictures soon.

No need for a schedule

In a given week, I know that I will attend the Sekesua market on Wednesday, the Koforidua market on Thursday and possibly a church service on Sunday. Aside from that, I normally wake up with no definite plan.

Saturday and Sunday of this past week fit my "see what happens," approach quite well.

On Saturday morning, I had tea and a groundnut paste (peanut butter) and honey sandwich for breakfast. I collected eggs at 7 and again at 8. At perhaps 8:30, Emmanuel asked me if I would like to walk to greet the chief. When I moved to Bormase, I was told that my neighbor Patrick was the "acting chief," so I didn't expect to make any formal greetings.

Emmanuel and I meandered through the back yards of our neighbors, greeting along the way. Our circuitous route took us past a newborn baby (a few hours old at most), across a bridge (I wasn't comfortable wandering there on my own) and into the homes of 3 chiefs. One chief was not home but the other two were friendly and very unofficial. Emmanuel spoke to each chief at length about my "mission," while in Ghana. It's customary to announce your mission whenever visiting a chief. My Dangme skills are good enough to follow the path of a conversation while listening but I was only able to share a few words.

These chiefs were not in official garb and sitting on sacred stools atop sacred platforms as are many other chiefs throughout Ghana. One chief was wearing a black sweatshirt with pink puffy Christmas gifts all over it. The other chief was nearly completely toothless and sitting around the house in shorts and a t-shirt. Both were extremely friendly and excited to hear that I was willing to help out! When there is no phone or internet in a community, it takes some motivation to get the word around town. Many people in my community are not especially motivated so it was great to get this initial meeting taken care of.

On the walk back home, Emmanuel introduced me to a member of the District Assembly. The man was standing on the roadside waiting for a taxi. Had I been by myself, I would have walked past and greeted him but instead, I have planned a meeting for early next month.

I arrived home around noon, helped the "small girls," prepare lunch. We traded math lessons for Dangme lessons and laughed throughout the process. I ate lunch and rode my bike to Sekesua to give Daniel his second typing lesson. We missed each other on Wednesday so I showed up unannounced. He's come a long way in three weeks!! We spent maybe an hour going through some tutorials. My main suggestion was to keep his hands on the "home keys" so he doesn't lose his place every time he types a Q or a B. It seems like a small suggestion but he was very happy and his words per minute jumped from 2 to 4. I'm excited to see where he is in a year!

The bikeride back to Bormase was very nice. Listening to my ipod while taking in the scenery and waving to children as they run to the roadside makes me smile every time!!

As I arrived at home (2:30pm?) I saw Emmanuel sitting out front with two men. It turns out that he was anjoying an impromptu meeting with the local Agricultural Extension Officers. Another contact was made and my day was coming to a close.

I made/burned some popcorn for the family, went to fetch water and on the way to the borehole, I ran into Ransford as he was walking from Sekesua. Ransford and I sat down and looked over his first assignment. It's so odd to be teaching a man who's a only a few years my junior. We looked over his essay for a while, I gave him some vocabulary words to study and we looked through a prep book so he could practice the "composition summary," section. This part was tough!! We'll have our work cut our for us.

As Ransford and I studied, Stephen sidled up and listened for a while. He has recently taken interest in the study sessions and turned in his first assignment the next day.

For having no plans, this was a successful day. Sunday was very different and I'll write about that soon.

Brief post

The currency has officially been changed. As of January 1, the Ghana Cedi is the official currency of Ghana. This change has been a gradual one but it still makes a big difference for farmers and market workers.

The change is as follows.

Cedi (old denominations)
Coins worth 50, 100, 200 and 500 cedis (10,000 cedis equal 1 Ghana Cedi)
Notes worth 1000, 2000, 5000, 10,000 and 20,000 cedis

Ghana Cedi
Coins (1, 5, 10, 20, 50 Ghana Pesewas)
Notes (1, 5, 10, 20, 50 Ghana Cedis)

It is very hard to find 1 pesewa coins so those items that used to cost 400 cedis will now be 5 pesewas. Those that were 1300 will likely be 15 pesewas etc.

As you can imagine, buying a television or refrigerator when the largest note is the equivalent of $2 is difficult. On the other hand, when you make a living my selling items that cost 300 cedis or 3 Ghana Pesewas, your daily life is drastically altered.

Thats all for now.

Love to all!

Recovery time

After my glorious start to 2008, I decided to spend a few recovery days at the Peace Corps office in Accra. Dehydration to the point of fainting takes its toll on the body!!

Yesterday, a former Peace Corps Volunteer arrived in Accra. He and I have been in contact since before I arrived in country. He offered some good advice before leaving the states and I thought I could return the favor by giving whatever travel advice might be applicable after 17 years away from Ghana.

I'll admit that it's a bit odd writing about the experience since this gracious host/guest also follows this blog.

A good thing about the past several days is that I've been pining to get back to my site. I have only been there for a month but this time away keeps me thinking about what work I can be doing in Bormase and how the Nartey family is doing. Eva and Raphael will return to school on Monday so I've missed some prime days at my new home.

On the other hand, I've enjoyed a very tourist view of Accra. A visit from a returned Peace Corps Volunteer has its advantages. There is a small give and take in that the guest understands the financial struggle that comes with volunteering but does not necessarily know how things are done in Ghana today. In exchange, we current volunteers get to live life as though we're not constrained my Peace Corps finances and our guest can buy a phone, get around Accra, find a nice place to stay and decent food without getting sucked into tourist traps all day. I must admit that it feels as though I'm getting the better end of the deal. I've taken hot showers, slept in an air conditioned room and eaten food that is served on a plate while in return I can only help with finding a place to buy a phone, where to rent a car, how the exchange rates work.

More than anything, I think it's been cool to hear stories from 17 years ago. Many things have changed completely and many are exactly the same. I still go to fetch my water, I still have no electricity, tro's are still uncomfortable and the roads are still in terrible condition. Over the past 17 years, the housing for some volunteers has changed by leaps and bounds. Some live with showers and flush toilets and 4 bedrooms. On top of trading volunteer stories, it's been great to hear stories from after Ghana. How do you re-acclamate? What do you do for work? So many questions and so many answers yet only a glimpse into what the next two years (and beyond) will hold.

This afternoon, we took a taxi to the mausoleum Dr. Kwame Nkrumah (Ghana's first president). Sculptures and other beautiful pieces of art surround the mausoleum but what was most interesting to me was contained in the one room museum. Some history on President Nkrumah's life is given and pictures blanket the walls. In a 10' x 10' space on one wall, Nkrumah is shown dancing with Queen Elizabeth, shaking hands with Khrushchev, sharing a car with JFK, sitting down with Fidel Castro and chatting with Mao. Talk about rubbing elbows with a variety of people. Only some of the pictures had dates but from what I gather, most were taken between 1958 and 1961. Nkrumah was responsible for the construction of the Volta Dam. This dam provides Ghana with a huge amount of electricity but also flooded millions of acres of fertile farmland. Much of the land was Krobo land. Construction of the dam was initially funded by Russia but was finished with American dollars. I'm still terribly naive in regards to Ghanaian history but this short touristy trip really opened my eyes. I'm looking forward to learning more about it.

Our cab driver next took us a few kilometers to a nice cliffside lunch place. My fellow volunteer, the returned volunteer and myself sat, chatted and ate for what was close to 4 hours. When we got back to the parking lot, our taxi driver was still sitting in his car. He was prepared to drive us back to our hotel in exchange for 50 Ghana Cedis. I didn't pay for the lunch or for the hotel so I was in no position to bargain for this taxi drivers services. Instead, I stood by while American business tactics and sheer principle drove down the price offered by a hard working Ghanaian who was clearly trying to take advantage of a relaxing day paid for by tourists.

I completely agreed with both parties. We did not ask the driver to stick around and wait for so long. He did not tell us that he would stick around and charge us for the time. We all thought that he would be there waiting for us and he thought that we would come from our lunch and provide a nice pay day without the 4.80/gallon gas prices that accompany a normal work day. On the other hand, the driver could really use the money and the Obruni can more than likely spare the money. Who's right and who's wrong?

Akwaaba Ghana!!

An interesting end to the year

Through a little bit of networking, I had the opportunity to meet a former Peace Corps Volunteer who now works for an NGO in Accra. This woman was a PCV from 2004-2004 and has since worked at an NGO focused on safely placing war torn refugees in new homes.

A nice perk involved in this meeting is that we decided to meet while hanging out at the beach for New Years. What a nice business meeting right?

While many in the states are bundled up and hiding from the snow, I was body surfing in the Gulf of Guinea. With consistent waves of between 5 and 10 feet and NOBODY else in the water, I managed to get a lot of water time under my belt.

After playing in the water for a few hours, I joined a 4 vs 4 beach soccer game. I was the only american playing beach soccer and I'll admit that I held my own. I had to bow out gracefully after I developed and then opened a huge blister on my right foot. Of course I could have stopped playing when I felt the blister developing but how often can I play soccer on the beach in Ghana? I'd make the same decision again despite having to hobble around for the rest of the day.

At around 6, over a few beers, I took part in a long discussion about the upcoming Ghanaian election. This was the second conversation of this type and between the two talks, participants represented Liberia, Ghana, Canada, Sweden, The Ivory Coast, Burkina Faso and America. Volunteer success stories and frustrations were also added to the mix. I found myself taking part when appropriate but also sitting back enjoying the fact that I was a part of the group.

A small group of PCV's went to dinner from here and had a nice class of wine with pizza/pasta dishes. At 8 (already past my bed time) I was exhausted and feeling a bit of Ghana Tummy coming on. I enjoyed a nap for an hour before going to see the live band. Still not feeling well, I went for another nap and decided to just sleep until 11:15 or so. I wasn't feeling very well but really wanted to ring in the New Year instead of sleeping through it.

I hobbled out to the main bar area at around 11:30, I walked down to the beach to check out the massive bonfire but still didn't feel very well. Some of my new friends were pulling me onto the dance floor to celebrate but I used my blister as an excuse (not well received by the drunken crowd) to sit down. I sat at the bar trying to lay low for the last 20 minutes of the year but decided that with the noise and cigarette smoke, the environment was too much. I stood up to go back to bed but felt a bit dizzy and went back to sit down. I sat for a minute, offered an explanatory "I'm not feeling well," face to my friend across the bar and...

I wake up sitting on the ground with a Canadian volunteer asking me if I was alright. Slightly confused, I said that I was OK but quickly realized that in the process of fainting, I had hit my face on the tiled bar, fallen to the ground and aggressively shat my pants. HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I know it sounds scary but since it's in the past, we might as well laugh about it. Stubborn as I am, I decided to sit in my crap filled board shorts (that's right, no underwear to keep it contained.) for the final five minutes of the year. What's funny is that I didn't feel the need to go to the bathroom before the incident yet I shat A LOT and the diarrhea running down my leg combined with the blood below my right eye made for quite a sight.

Smelly and embarrassed, I showered and retired for the night. For all of you out there, combining 3 hours of body surfing, an hour of soccer (all in the African sun, on the equator) with drinking a few beers after 9 months of sobriety is not a good idea. When you add the fact that I'm skin and bones and have low blood pressure to start with, I can completely understand why I fainted. Lesson learned.

How's that for a glorious induction into the "I shat my pants in Ghana," club?

Love you all!! I'm OK though embarrassed!!