Development

While I know that one of my goals is to work towards sustainable development, I can't help but focus much of my attention of individual development.

Maybe it's my Psychology background or maybe my interest in individual development and my decision to pursue a Psychology degree come from the same place. Oops, maybe I'm over analyzing.

I'm the youngest of three children so I've never really had the opportunity to watch a child learn and change on a day by day basis. In the last year, I've gotten to see so much change in Bormase. The tiny, wrinkly newborns that were perpetually strapped to their mothers' backs when I first arrived are now starting to walk around. Toddlers like Atta and Lahweh are running around and talking up a storm. I've seen school age children go from having a mouth full of tiny baby teeth to proudly sporting tongue sized gaps between their canines to having what appear to be far over sized adult teeth (this is a real moment of truth since orthodontics and dentistry aren't real options). On a less endearing note, some young girls have gone from primary school uniforms to maternity clothes and are now sitting at home with newborns of their own.



In addition to seeing the physical changes, I've had a chance to see the different ways that these children play. When I shared a compound with the twins, I could watch them play at washing clothes, washing dishes, drumming and pounding fufu. It wasn't uncommon to see Lahweh flip over his little stool, fill it with rocks and leaves and pretend to drive around like a local lorry driver with a fully loaded car. I occasionally get weird looks when I sit in the dirt and play hand slapping games or catch. When hanging out at the borehole, I'll kick a small plastic ball around with a 6 year old or I'll throw a spherical seed pod as high into the air as I can only to watch children of all ages circle beneath it and make stabs to catch it. Being a white man makes me different already so why not be the only adult male to play games with the small boys and small girls? I'm still the coolest and craziest white dude around. No harm done.

Hannah moved her twin two year olds Atta and Lahweh to a neighboring compound in order to live with the twins' father and escape Dorothy's instruction. The house is between my house and the Moringa farm so I'll try to stop by to say hello on my way to weeding. Since the bushy growth in front of the house was recently prepared for planting (a nice way to say slashed and burned), the children can see me walking up the road and will greet me with repeated entreaties of "Kweku ba!! Kweku ba!!," Kweku is my local name and "ba" means come. I'll enter the compound and join Atta, Lahweh, Teye (the massive 22 month old cousin) and Tetteh (4 or 5 year old cousin) in whatever game they're playing. Recently I've had them take turns hanging on to my index fingers so that I can lift them up and allow them to pull leaves from the Cassia tree (like Ghanaians need help working on their strength).

Though I love playing with these kids, I see Hannah frying Gari with a 16 year old nursing mother and her 14 year old pregnant sister. 22 month old Teye is actually the uncle of the 3 year old twins.

I've recently been working with Hannah, trying to get her to take work more seriously. Seeing that nobody in Bormase sells Popcorn while everybody loves to eat popcorn, I taught Hannah how to make it. I made a loan of three ghana cedis and fifty pesewas (a little more than three dollars) in order to purchase the first supply of kernels. Hannah and I sat down and figured out how many bags of popcorn she would have to sell and at what price if she wanted to make a profit.

After our introductory lesson, Hannah told me that she'd be back in the afternoon and we'd make the popcorn. She didn't come back. I had to track her down in order to set up a time for her to get to work. Sekesua market day came and went with no popcorn made. Dorothy came and asked me if I could get popcorn so that she could start selling it in her store. When I told her that Hannah was planning to make popcorn to sell and that I was trying to help support the twins, Dorothy told me of past business ventures that were unsuccessfully attempted with Hannah. Dorothy and Stephen each assured me (with limited excitement) that they would surely end up supporting the twins. I still have hope that Hannah will get her act together. As it is, she spends most of her time walking around town her pregnant, teen-aged sister in law.

As great as it has been to watch children grow and develop, it's very disconcerting to see the sheer number of children trying to develop. At least the children don't seem worried about it.

Love to all,
Kweku

It's where I live

Since spending a day rustling up interest in the Village Bicycle project, life in Bormase has slowed down in some senses. To be honest though, I can't get all that slow.

I've been reading, studying and working out in my nice home gym. We've gotten a few rains which gives me this great joy of weeding the Moringa farm again. There was a while there where I couldn't remember what was missing from my daily life. I knew that I really missed something but I couldn't put a finger on it. Just more than a week ago, I went to visit my farm and saw that not much weeding was needed. The ground was mostly clear and the trees were not much more than skinny brown sticks poking through the dry soil. After a few good rains however, I've gotten to see those skinny brown sticks erupt into the beautiful green trees I once knew and loved.

My time on the farm has reminded me of one of my initial goals when joining the Peace Corps. I wanted to get away from my addiction to instant gratification. 18 months ago, I'd end my day at work, walk a block to the gym, walk a few feet for a nice snack, walk a few hundred yards to the MUNI. I'd ride the N Judah for maybe thirty minutes before walking the two blocks to my house, whipping up some food and getting online while sitting in front of the TV and texting/calling my friends. This overflow of technology and stimuli took me straight through until bedtime and into another day of the same. The mindless TV and internet time was a great way to wind down after a hectic day at work but I could easily picture my life zipping away in front of my eyes. I didn't want to just fill up my time with mindless blah.

Less than one year ago, some friends and I went to an overgrown patch of land and started clearing. Sweat poured, hands bled and seedlings sprouted. Since then, I've spent countless hours chopping weeds and laying them between rows with the hope that I'll be able to fertilize the Moringa with my own farm scraps. This week, after having taken my time and gone through the motions with a far away end goal in mind, I had at least 8 inches of lush top soil conveniently located amongst my trees. Rather than leaving 30 centimeters between every row, I'd planted three rows at 30cm and left 60cm after each set of three rows. This space would be for the weeds and would allow a space to walk through for harvesting. Sure, that sounds like a good plan. It WAS a good plan and I must say that the delayed gratification was well worth the hard work.

Away from the farm, Patrick and I gathered bamboo for what will be a garden fence. When going into the bush to collect the downed poles, Patrick grabbed my arm to point out a green snake in the bush. It was only 5 or 6 feet away and no matter how he pointed or explained, I couldn't see the thing. We chatted away while working but really paid no mind to the close encounter. A few days later, I noticed that the plank of wood that conveniently balances my water barrel beneath the gutter was rotting. I spotted a similar but sturdier plank a few feet away and I went to get it. I lifted the little plank (less than 3' x 2') and was greeted by a cute little adolescent viper. The snake was no more than ten inches long and was clearly a bit logy after an evidently large meal. I hollered to Stephen who quickly came over and rapped the little guy with a stick until it was dead. I'll be honest, I felt really bad for this deadly little guy. There's no way I was going to let a poisonous viper go off into the bush (I found it about 20 feet from my front door) and grow even more dangerous but I still felt sorry for it.

Patrick came by the house a while later and I was still chattering about how "snakes really FREAK me out." Patrick and Stephen laughed. Patrick said that he also dislikes snakes while Stephen voiced contempt for scorpions. I couldn't help but wonder why I never hear about snake bites when so many people spend endless hours in the overgrown bush every day. I've only been in Bormase for a bit over a year and I've seen my fair share. I'm no herpetologist but I know that I don't want bright snakes with diamond shaped heads hanging out in my front yard.

I asked Patrick and Stephen in snake bites are common and just like the last several times I asked, I was told that it was not common. We stayed on the subject for a while and Patrick eventually told me that he had only been bitten once. He told me that he was bitten on the ankle by a belt snake (I'm not sure of the real name but this snake has brown and white stripes running lengthwise down its body and locals think that it would look good as a belt). Had he not seen the beautiful belt slithering away, he wouldn't have stopped working. Instead, he cut a vine, tied it around his calf and walked to the roadside. Patrick described how the pain had gone from he foot to his head by the time he got to the roadside. He was lucky to find a car passing and hitched a ride to the clinic. He laughed while describing how the venom was affecting his heart and breathing by the time he received treatment. While he wasn't in terrible pain at the time, Patrick couldn't walk for three days due to the swelling in his leg.

Stephen said the he had once been bitten on the finger by a baby but had no need for treatment. His real story was about the scorpion that stung his palm. Stephen got a sting and needed several shots before feeling better. He was in terrible pain for several days and had minimal use of his hand. I can see why Patrick and Stephen don't like snakes and scorpions respectively. I just think they're creepy.

For some reason I can't upload pictures at the moment but I'll try again soon.

That's all for now.

Love to all
Ira

Village Bicycle Project

I mentioned in my last blog entry that I have a few potential projects coming down the line. Today, I sent in the application to have Village Bicycle Project come to Bormase.

Yesterday, Patrick and I held meetings in Bormase Tenya, Bormase Dorse and Bormase Sibrino (I think that only Bormase is spelled correctly). Officially, all three communities are my "site" but it took 30 minutes to walk to Dorse and over an hour to walk to Sibrino.

The meetings were held in as a means to convey the objective of Village Bicycle Project. The US based company provides used bicycles to Peace Corps villages at prices that are below market rate. Customers are required to attend an eight hour information session before leaving with their new bicycle. This information session includes practical lessons on how to properly maintain a bicycle.

The first meeting started at 7am and ended with more than 70 people having signed up. The LONG day ended at 4pm and had 130 people signed up. Patrick was able to translate everything and was also willing to tell Dorse and Sibrino attendees about Moringa and the other projects that we have going in Bormase.

It remains to be seen how many people will follow through and pay (in advance) for the bicycles. Initial news form VBP is that they won't likely deliver bicycles until just before I leave Ghana but I'll be ecstatic if this project is competed successfully. As things stand now, maybe a dozen people in the vicinity of my house own their own bicycle. When I first brought my own bike home, I was getting daily requests from potential borrowers. Occasionally, I would lend my bike but recently, a neighbor (the same on who hit his brother with a cutlass) returned the bike with a terribly bent seat.

As I prepared to go speak with Lahweh (it's a common name for a male twin) about his use of my bicycle, I learned that the bicycle was less damaged of the two travelers. Lahweh had flipped over the handlebars and knocked out one of his front teeth. It seems that he knows not to be careless with a bicycle.

Other projects are still in the works but I'll give news on those later.

Love to all
Ira

Seasonal Calendar

One thing that Peace Corps Ghana insists upon as an integration tool is the Seasonal Calendar. During training, we were told on what seemed to be a daily basis that composing a seasonal calendar would be a fool proof integration tool once we were living at our respective sites. I composed a calendar last December and got a good idea of when to expect the rain, when to clear land for the next planting season. I learned when to nurse seedlings, when to expect people to be at farm harvesting. I learned when the village would be short on money and when people would be away during the funeral season.

While I was able to write down what would happen during each season, I had no idea what to really expect. As I go through these seasons for a second time, I have a new perspective on everything.

We're in the middle of the harmattan season right now. Dust is blowing south from the Sahara and the beautiful, lush, green landscape is now dead and brown. The air (and our lungs) are full of dust. A few people are at farm clearing new portions of land for the next planting season but many are sitting around the house, trying to save money for herbicide, seeds or other necessary goods for preparing a plot of land. Sometimes, it looks as though the sun is setting in the North rather than the West. Bush fires are so big that they give the illusion of a never ending sunset. It rains ash and the scene is accompanied by a symphony of gunshots as people shoot at any bush animal seen fleeing the fire. Last year, I was worried that the fire would engulf my house and that the gunshots were from some militant uprising that I hadn't heard about. Now, I take it all in stride.

In a few short months, we will enter the season during which it's hard to carry on a conversation or even hear your own thoughts because the rain is pelting the tin roof with such voracity. I used to laugh at how people would run for cover and refuse to do anything when it started to drizzle. After a year of seeing how fast a drizzle can turn into a torrential downpour, I do the same thing.

Once the rain starts, it continues with little let-up through October. What's hard to believe is that the rain is only about a month away and when it's starting to let up, I'll be preparing to leave this beautiful country.

A few new programs are taking shape in Bormase. The food storage facility idea has lost steam after community members failed to initiate any further work. Patrick has started working with me on a proposal for a permanent structure for bead makers. As it is now, structures are in constant disrepair and productivity depends greatly on weather and other factors. Patrick hopes to put up a solid structure under which students can be trained in the art of Krobo bead making, work can be completed with fewer environmental disturbances and work can be professionally displayed for any future visitors. The proposal is underway and I'll keep you all updated on the progress.

The Moringa farm is going strong. There aren't many fresh leaves because of the harmattan season but come March, it will be a sight to behold. I also plan to clear another small portion of land and dedicate that portion to Moringa trees that will be for seed production rather than leaf production. As it is now, all of the trees are trimmed for the purpose of harvesting leaves. Since they're trimmed, the will not produce seeds. This new portion will help support the growing interest in Moringa and will help make the project more sustainable.

Local farmers have been meeting and discussing the idea of saving money for later in life. I have mentioned in the past that farmers struggle once they reach an age at which farming becomes too physically taxing. The idea is to establish a communal savings plan so that farmers can have a little nest egg when it's needed. This group has expanded and is currently working on saving a small amount of funds for agro-chemicals. When I first arrived, I frowned on the idea of using chemicals and fire for clearing land. An area near my Moringa plot was burned less than a year ago and already has 3-4 feet of growth throughout. When working with a cutlass, it really doesn't make much sense to everything by hand. I have to pick my battles.

There are a few other plans in the works but I'll wait to see how those pan out.

Love to all
Ira
The pictures are unrelated but very cute!

Outside looking in

It was great to read Jamie's blog entry about her time in Ghana. While she does a great job at describing our trip to the Northern region, I can see that it's absolutely impossible to truly describe what it feels like to live and breathe Ghana. Since I don't go back and read my own blog entries, I don't know how the detail compares from one entry to the next. However, I can assure you that even those entries that drip with detail and make you wince, cringe, laugh or cry, they pail in comparison to the true experience. If you ever have an opportunity to immerse yourself in a new culture, take it. Thanks for writing Jamie!!

On another note, Barack Obama is finally our President!! Between the time Obama was elected and the day swore in as President (the first time), Ghana has had one election, one run-off, a re-vote in one constituency and a swearing in of their own. Atta Mills took office roughly 72 hours after he was declared the winner while much of the world waited in suspense while wondering if the Obama era would ever actually begin.

It has begun!! I joined several fellow volunteers at the W.E.B. Dubois Memorial in Accra on Tuesday where we stood behind several hundred other enthusiasts. Ghanaians, Americans and ex pats from around the world walked around sporting Obama gear from t-shirts to Ghanaian fabric with Obama's face on it. The energy was palpable throughout the historic event while tears, cheers and hugs were shared by many. The mother of one of my fellow volunteers was away from her D.C. home. She said after the ceremony that she was happy to have had the experience of witnessing the event from Ghana and wouldn't have traded it for a chance to be in D.C. at the time. It feels similar to election day for me. I was anticipating the event for such a long time and enjoyed it so thoroughly without really thinking that the event itself is only the beginning and these feelings of hope and elation don't have to stop just because the day has past. Obama is already doing great things and I can only hope that the words that he so eloquently spoke on January 20th truly suggest what he'll do as our President.

Love to all!
Ira

From an Obruni's Perspective

My name is Jamie, and I am delighted to be a guest blogger on Ira’s blog. I recently had the pleasure of traveling to Ghana with Ira’s sister, Martha. As I write this from my office in Manhattan, overlooking the Chrysler building and still shivering from my walk to work in below freezing temperatures, I am missing Ghana…a lot.

Our experiences were rich with culture, food and much laughter. And while there are many things I wish to share, I fear that I could write for hours and hours. So I’ll focus this entry on our travels to the North…

From Tamale, we were headed to Kpendua (though I admit I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the Muslim village where I knew we’d have to “greet” the elders and wear dresses that at least covered our knees).

As “strangers” to the village, we wanted to ensure that we got off on the right foot. So, with Cheri’s (who, if you follow this blog, you all should know is Ira’s fantastic girlfriend) guidance, we set out to purchase a guinea fowl. Sidenote: I am completely terrified of birds (think Hitchcock movie) and I couldn’t believe my time had come to travel, via tro or lorry or whatever other means, with a live bird. Setting my fears aside, we carried on.

We found the bulk market (sort of like the Costco of markets in Africa), a very nice man took us to the right spot and for 8 Ghana Cedis we had found our bird. The man tied the bird's feet and wings and we set off on our merry way. Ira had it tucked nicely under his arm (as I had seen other locals carrying their birds) and we were off to find our lorry, which would take us to Cheri's village. We had not walked for three minutes when all of a sudden the bird flew out from under Ira's arm. You can just imagine the tidal wave of laughter that set off in the market. Two nice men sprung into action, helped gather the bird and plucked the feathers that help it fly. They tucked it back under Ira's arm and we were good to go. The laughter only grew stronger even as we were walking away. Minor crisis averted, but unbelievably funny.

The lorry was waiting in the lot near the market. If I thought the tro rides I had taken previously were uncomfortable, I didn’t even know what kind of surprise I was in for with the lorry. Our bags were hoisted onto the top of the vehicle, which Martha and I estimate was built in the 1940s. Our bags were among the cylindrical wicker containers filled with chickens, approximately 200 yams – that were thrown atop the lorry one at a time – and other random items. As we rode off, I did have a fleeting thought that the roof might collapse onto our heads. Alas, we made it unscathed, just incredibly sweaty and thankful to be up and walking around.

We arrived in the village and presented the Assemblyman with the guinea fowl. In response, he informed us that he had slaughtered two chickens for us as well (which is an extremely nice gesture given the expense). We were to eat dinner at his house that night. Before setting out to greet people, we walked over to where the chicken had been killed. We watched as the "A" man said a prayer and then proceeded to slit the guinea fowl's neck and drain the blood. Martha and I then took one of the chickens and began to pluck the feathers. Yes...this is one of those moments where I thought to myself – “Am I really doing this?” In spite of my aforementioned fear of birds, I plucked a chicken that I was going to eat later that evening. The chicken was still warm and I cannot say the plucking is something I would do again, but I am glad I did it once. Just down the way, while we were still plucking, and the little children were burning the rest of the feathers off, we saw a goat being killed. We also then had the distinct pleasure of watching the men pull out the stomach and intestines and other parts. Wow.

We then spent about 2 hours greeting. The Assemblyman speaks English and helped to translate the things that Cheri did not know. We greeted, among others, the Queen Mother, the Chief and the Pastor. We were met with smiling faces and many well wishes. Just as we had experienced in Ira’s village days before, the people are incredibly warm and inviting. I was pleased Cheri had taught us a little bit of Dagmane so that we didn’t completely embarrass ourselves. We didn’t know much, but I was glad to be making an effort.

Once the greeting was over, we relaxed for about an hour and then headed to dinner at the "A" man's house. He had prepared the birds and some goat, along with fufu and some stew for dipping. I tried it all, and to my amazement, I really enjoyed the goat. Once we finished eating, we asked him to tell us the story of Fire Festival - the real reason we had come to Kpendua for that night. Essentially it's a celebration of a prophet’s successful rescue of his son (if Ira can do it, he’ll post the video he shot of the “A” man telling the story). The "A" man described all of the tradition and the meanings and what we were to expect. He had even prepared four straw torches for us so that we could participate.

Both Ira and Cheri had been to the festival last year, but Martha and I were flying blind. We were anxious and excited and, to be honest, a little nervous. Men, women and children would all carry flaming torches, there would be men with cutlasses and guns that would go off randomly.

From dinner we set out for the festival with our torches. About 100 yards away, everyone was gathered holding their unlit torches and running around in a circle chanting. We jumped right in and were running around while the dust grew and circled around us. Once the Chief's torch was lit everyone lit theirs as well and headed down the road, running and chanting. There were a number of incredible drummers playing the entire night as well. It was hot, ashes were flying everywhere and Martha and I were trying desperately not to lose sight of one another (or Ira and Cheri for that matter). After about 10 minutes of walking around with the burning torches, everyone heads towards a designated tree and throws their torch into the tree. Once that is done, everyone carries a branch from the tree back to the starting point. It is believed that if you bathe with the leaves from the tree the next day you will be spared from bad things happening in the year to come.

So we were back at the beginning and running around with the leaves now. Guns would go off at random, which I must say was quite frightening considering that the men carrying those guns were quite drunk. We learned later that the guns were shooting glass instead of bullets, but I'm fairly certain being struck with glass from where we were standing would have hurt anyway. The men then split from the women and much dancing ensued. They do a dance called the tora tora. Put simply, the women stand in a line and two at a time they will bump each other's butts. Both Cheri and Martha got in the line, but I was not feeling quite up to it. The night was intense and beautiful and filled with tradition and I was so happy to have been a part of it.

The next morning we were headed back to Tamale. But instead of the lorry we took to get to Cheri's village, this time we had to take a cargo lorry. Yep...it is what you think. We arrived at the station down the road, and there waiting for us was an open truck already carrying two cows with a bike attached to the side and one of those wicker baskets filled with chickens. We boarded the lorry, our bags were placed near the cows and people slowly started to gather in. Just as we thought we were ready to go, we all had to deboard to let a bull on. In order to get the bull onto the truck, several of the men had to rope it in and then hoist it up by the horns and the tail. That, of course, set him off and it took some time to calm him down. Alas, we all got back on the truck and vied for a spot to sit. Let's just say that personal space does not exist on this journey. And people have to sit atop the truck while they hold on to the iron rails for dear life.

We had to stop about ten minutes into the trip to get yet another bull. This one was feisty. It was hoisted up and would not calm down. I know I am not doing this justice, but the men were swinging from the bars trying to move the bull to ensure that it wouldn't trample any of the passengers. Ultimately, they tied its horns to its back legs. With that bull now somewhat sedated, one of the others turned around so its butt was facing the people. And, yes, you guessed it...it started to poop (I understand that poop is a topic often and openly discussed among the peace corps volunteers, so I feel perfectly comfortable writing about it here). Thankfully, a very nice (and extraordinarily strong) man was standing nearby and picked up Martha's backpack and handed it up to a man just above sitting on one of the iron rails. He then picked up my bag and, to the amusement of the other Ghanaians who never carry things on their back, struggled to put it on his back and out of the way of the poop. While holding my 70 pound bag, standing atop a bag of uneven grain, and holding on to the rail above with only one hand, he also successfully kept the cow out of everyone's way. In the meantime, due to the extreme lack of personal space, my right leg was asleep in a way it has never been asleep. I could not feel a thing. Martha's left arm was lodged between her body and one of the rails because, had she taken it out, she would have fallen over. She also had no sensation in her right leg.

We arrived at last at the market - halfway between Kpendua and Tamale. We went directly to the pito bar (hardly a "bar" by any stretch. It was a straw hut that you could not stand up in. It fit about ten people all seated on rocks. Martha, Ira and Cheri enjoyed some pito (a millet beer), but my stomach certainly was not up to the task - though I tasted it. It was extraordinary to be inside, in the shade, with sensation in all of my body. From there we took a regular lorry the rest of the way into town. I felt like I was flying first class on Virgin.

By the time we reached Tamale we were SPENT!! We had a nice dinner and called it a night.

This is just a small snapshot of a two week trip that was laced with incredible stories and experiences. But as you can see, recounting all of it would be too tall of a task for right now (especially since I’m back on the clock).

To Ira and Cheri: THANK YOU FOR BEING THE MOST INCREDIBLE HOSTS. I cannot express how grateful I am to you and to the people of your villages for opening up their homes and for sharing their thoughts and experiences with us. This was a once in a lifetime, perspective changing trip. I know I speak for both Martha and myself when I say that we are extraordinarily lucky to have had the opportunity to travel to Ghana. And we will follow the remainder of your adventures with enthusiasm and jealousy.

Short news

Standfast has been lifted and after some time stuck in Accra (very nice accomodations to be "stuck" with). Bormase was great and some beautiful jewelry was made while good times were shared.

I'm sorry that I'm unable to attend today's funeral service for the beloved Mrs. Janet Strauss, avid blog follower and honorary mother/grandmother to many. Aunt Jan Jan passed away peacefully and in good company on January 31st. I'll write more when there is more time.

It's hard to wrap my head around everything that's going on in the world both near and far but things in Ghana are great following an NDC victory in the recent presidential elections. Official results came in a month after the first day of voting and the NDC came away victorious with 50.23% vs. the NPP's 49.77%. Over seventy percent of the population voted and despite numerous delays and accusations, the election was peaceful.

Love to all.
Ira