Now that I've completed my volunteer trip to Ghana, I decided to foray into other unexplored territory: videography.
Okay, 'videography' may be an overstatement, but I did manage to fashion together a pretty nifty slideshow. I thought I'd share it as my last post. Enjoy!
United Planet Ghana Quest
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Stateside.
Adjusting to Ghana meant my mind was working overtime; everything was new and alien. Adjusting back to the United States means my mind is now on autopilot; everything is old and familiar. It's strange both ways.
I left Effiduasi early Thursday morning. I said my proper goodbyes to all my coworkers on Wednesday but I really didn't want to say goodbye to my host family. It was at the very last minute, as the bus was pulling up to the junction, that I said goodbye to my host sisters ... as they were taking their morning bath. So my last memory of them is in various stages of undress, squealing and playing with the water.
The trotro (bus) took me to Kumasi where I had breakfast of bread and egg from a street vendor at Asafo Market. I people-watched while eating, trying to soak everything in. I am also unreasonably proud of impressing the vendor lady with my Twi. Afterwards, I boarded a big charter bus that took me to Accra. Once there, I went to the ICYE office to sign a dissolution contract. I stayed overnight at the volunteer house, woke up early the next morning and put on the cleanest airport outfit I could muster: an oversized button-down shirt (clean), a baggy pair of hiking pants (clean enough) and sneakers (definitely not clean). My hair, as always, was pulled back in a ponytail. (btw - I'm sharing these details about my appearance because they play a part later in my story.)
Even though I got to the airport three hours before departure, I arrived at the gate with only 45 minutes to spare. I went through four security checks which, in my opinion, seems a bit excessive. After getting into the building, the first thing I did was go to the CEPS (Customs Excise and Preventive Service) counter to have my bag inspected. The lady took my passport and gave my face an unusually long stare. As she opened my bag, she said, "I thought you were a boy when you walked up. That's why when I saw your passport, I had to double check."
Okay, so maybe I wasn't in my most feminine outfit, but did you really have to tell me that? Thanks, lady.
My flight lasted 11 hours and I only slept for about 20 minutes of it. Couple that with the fact that I was already starting to miss Ghana and you've got a recipe for the most painful flight I've ever been on. Once we landed, it took another hour and a half to get through immigration and to retrieve my luggage. Needless to say, getting to the waiting area and seeing my parents' faces was a huge relief.
Here is a brief excerpt of my thought progression as I took my first steps on American soil:
1. It's freezing.
2. There are white people here.
3. There are Asian people here.
4. They look strange.
5. There's toilet paper and soap in the bathroom.
6. It's nice.
7. Mirror.
8. I feel dirty.
9. I look dirty.
10. Really really dirty.
Now that I'm home, I'm beginning the process of re-adjusting to American life. I think it'll be a long process. As I reflect on my experience, I am realizing the enormity of everything I went through. Going to Africa is to my life as Christ's birth is to the Gregorian calendar. B.C. & A.D. Pre-Africa & Post-Africa. My trip has left a lasting impression in ways that I still can't fully articulate.
But I'll try. That is, after all, what a blog is all about.
So here are some of the things I've learned over the past two months, in no particular order:
1. Nothing is impossible, whether big or small. If I want to go to Africa, I will find a way. If I want to teach a class of fifty without any preparation, I will find a way. If I want to buy food but have no idea how to order it, I will find a way. I've always considered myself a fairly resourceful person, but living - and surviving - in Ghana took it to a whole new level.
2. People are people no matter what continent you're on. Obviously there are vast cultural differences between Americans and Ghanaians. But in the end, connecting to people and forming friendships is the same no matter who you're with. It takes time, attention and care. Respect people and they will respect you.
3. Children are children no matter what continent you're on. They have the same short attention spans, the same amounts of pent-up energy and the same ability to win over my heart. They remind me to keep life simple because we're living to enjoy it, not to complicate it.
4. My family is awesome. They were by my side through this whole experience. I never would have been able to do this if it weren't for their unflagging support. Mommy, Daddy, Nathan - I love you guys.
5. My friends are awesome. Yes, I'm talking about you. Throughout my time in Ghana, I received so many tokens of love and support: letters, e-mails, phone calls, blog comments. I loved all of it. They provided those extra pushes of encouragement that kept me going.
So thanks, friends and family, for all the ways that you've supported me through this whole experience. Ghana will always hold a special place in my heart (another cliche, sorry) and I'm glad you were able to experience it with me.
To close, I'm sharing some pictures and videos. Hopefully you've been following along so you understand the context for these. Thanks for reading.
Peace.
The kindergarten class during their rhyming/poem lesson.
I'm teaching America The Beautiful to Stage 3.
The battery of our van wasn't working, so some kids were helping to push it in an effort to jump start it. I won't even go into the safety violations this entails.
This is Thomas, the big bus driver, and some of the passengers. Yes, they just stand there. The whole time. Again, not worth it to go into the safety violations here. They do, however, always have an adult standing in the doorway to make sure kids don't fall out.
The girls portion of the marching brigade. This is during 6 March, Ghana's independence day. And as I reported earlier, we got first place!
The teachers and the children celebrating on the marching grounds after winning in the 6 March parade.
Angelina and Alice, two of the kindergarten teachers.
The teachers as they leave school on the road towards town.
Vergas (Stage 3 teacher) and Ata (school accountant). Ata is not his real name. For Akans, when there are twins, they are both nicknamed Ata. This one is Ata Kakara (kakara = small) which means he was born second. I do not know Ata's legal name.
Some players from our football (soccer) team right after they scored the first goal in a match. We won the game, 3-0.
The football team.
Ghanaian church during a wedding ceremony. You can see their traditional dress, particularly the matching kente outfit worn by the couple on the right.
A kente weaver in Bonwire.
Post Script - I'm debating whether to end this blog since my trip is over or to keep it active and transition it to a general personal blog. I've never been one to publish things on the internet, but working on this blog was surprisingly fun. Thoughts?
I left Effiduasi early Thursday morning. I said my proper goodbyes to all my coworkers on Wednesday but I really didn't want to say goodbye to my host family. It was at the very last minute, as the bus was pulling up to the junction, that I said goodbye to my host sisters ... as they were taking their morning bath. So my last memory of them is in various stages of undress, squealing and playing with the water.
The trotro (bus) took me to Kumasi where I had breakfast of bread and egg from a street vendor at Asafo Market. I people-watched while eating, trying to soak everything in. I am also unreasonably proud of impressing the vendor lady with my Twi. Afterwards, I boarded a big charter bus that took me to Accra. Once there, I went to the ICYE office to sign a dissolution contract. I stayed overnight at the volunteer house, woke up early the next morning and put on the cleanest airport outfit I could muster: an oversized button-down shirt (clean), a baggy pair of hiking pants (clean enough) and sneakers (definitely not clean). My hair, as always, was pulled back in a ponytail. (btw - I'm sharing these details about my appearance because they play a part later in my story.)
Even though I got to the airport three hours before departure, I arrived at the gate with only 45 minutes to spare. I went through four security checks which, in my opinion, seems a bit excessive. After getting into the building, the first thing I did was go to the CEPS (Customs Excise and Preventive Service) counter to have my bag inspected. The lady took my passport and gave my face an unusually long stare. As she opened my bag, she said, "I thought you were a boy when you walked up. That's why when I saw your passport, I had to double check."
Okay, so maybe I wasn't in my most feminine outfit, but did you really have to tell me that? Thanks, lady.
My flight lasted 11 hours and I only slept for about 20 minutes of it. Couple that with the fact that I was already starting to miss Ghana and you've got a recipe for the most painful flight I've ever been on. Once we landed, it took another hour and a half to get through immigration and to retrieve my luggage. Needless to say, getting to the waiting area and seeing my parents' faces was a huge relief.
Here is a brief excerpt of my thought progression as I took my first steps on American soil:
1. It's freezing.
2. There are white people here.
3. There are Asian people here.
4. They look strange.
5. There's toilet paper and soap in the bathroom.
6. It's nice.
7. Mirror.
8. I feel dirty.
9. I look dirty.
10. Really really dirty.
Now that I'm home, I'm beginning the process of re-adjusting to American life. I think it'll be a long process. As I reflect on my experience, I am realizing the enormity of everything I went through. Going to Africa is to my life as Christ's birth is to the Gregorian calendar. B.C. & A.D. Pre-Africa & Post-Africa. My trip has left a lasting impression in ways that I still can't fully articulate.
But I'll try. That is, after all, what a blog is all about.
So here are some of the things I've learned over the past two months, in no particular order:
1. Nothing is impossible, whether big or small. If I want to go to Africa, I will find a way. If I want to teach a class of fifty without any preparation, I will find a way. If I want to buy food but have no idea how to order it, I will find a way. I've always considered myself a fairly resourceful person, but living - and surviving - in Ghana took it to a whole new level.
2. People are people no matter what continent you're on. Obviously there are vast cultural differences between Americans and Ghanaians. But in the end, connecting to people and forming friendships is the same no matter who you're with. It takes time, attention and care. Respect people and they will respect you.
3. Children are children no matter what continent you're on. They have the same short attention spans, the same amounts of pent-up energy and the same ability to win over my heart. They remind me to keep life simple because we're living to enjoy it, not to complicate it.
4. My family is awesome. They were by my side through this whole experience. I never would have been able to do this if it weren't for their unflagging support. Mommy, Daddy, Nathan - I love you guys.
5. My friends are awesome. Yes, I'm talking about you. Throughout my time in Ghana, I received so many tokens of love and support: letters, e-mails, phone calls, blog comments. I loved all of it. They provided those extra pushes of encouragement that kept me going.
So thanks, friends and family, for all the ways that you've supported me through this whole experience. Ghana will always hold a special place in my heart (another cliche, sorry) and I'm glad you were able to experience it with me.
To close, I'm sharing some pictures and videos. Hopefully you've been following along so you understand the context for these. Thanks for reading.
Peace.
The kindergarten class during their rhyming/poem lesson.
I'm teaching America The Beautiful to Stage 3.
The battery of our van wasn't working, so some kids were helping to push it in an effort to jump start it. I won't even go into the safety violations this entails.
This is Thomas, the big bus driver, and some of the passengers. Yes, they just stand there. The whole time. Again, not worth it to go into the safety violations here. They do, however, always have an adult standing in the doorway to make sure kids don't fall out.
The girls portion of the marching brigade. This is during 6 March, Ghana's independence day. And as I reported earlier, we got first place!
The teachers and the children celebrating on the marching grounds after winning in the 6 March parade.
Angelina and Alice, two of the kindergarten teachers.
The teachers as they leave school on the road towards town.
Vergas (Stage 3 teacher) and Ata (school accountant). Ata is not his real name. For Akans, when there are twins, they are both nicknamed Ata. This one is Ata Kakara (kakara = small) which means he was born second. I do not know Ata's legal name.
Some players from our football (soccer) team right after they scored the first goal in a match. We won the game, 3-0.
The football team.
Ghanaian church during a wedding ceremony. You can see their traditional dress, particularly the matching kente outfit worn by the couple on the right.
A kente weaver in Bonwire.
Post Script - I'm debating whether to end this blog since my trip is over or to keep it active and transition it to a general personal blog. I've never been one to publish things on the internet, but working on this blog was surprisingly fun. Thoughts?
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Last Weekend in Ghana
This week marks the end of the spring term for us at the American Cooperative School. Beginning last Thursday, we have had exams i.e. I've been proctoring for two hours chunks each day i.e. I've been sitting on my butt doing nothing for two hour chunks each day. The subjects include the standards: English, Math, Natural Science, etc. Others include R.M.E., Citizenship and Creative Arts. R.M.E., which stands for Religious & Moral Education, teaches the basic foundations of the three major religions in Ghana: Christianity, Islam and Traditional. Citizenship is probably best described as the equivalent of an American Health class; they learn things like the dangers of drugs and the importance of interpersonal relationships. I haven't yet sat in on a Creative Arts exam but judging from the lessons, students just try their best to draw a scene from one of the stories they read in English class.
After spending the weekend grading exams, I realized the gaping disparity between my own American education and that of Africans. The average English score for Stages 4 and 5 probably fell around 50. If I remember correctly, 50 is a failing grade in American elementary schools. Not so here. As long as you get above 34%, you pass. It's not uncommon, however, for students to be held back a grade or even demoted. There is a 12-yr-old in the fourth grade and a 13-yr-old in the fifth (in the States, they should be in 7th and 8th grade, respectively). At the risk of being pedantic, education really is an important - if not the most important - determinant between developed and developing countries. In Ghana, where the vast majority of the economy is based in agriculture, school standards just aren't the same.
One of the most memorable things I saw while grading was on an answer sheet for an English essay. The student had no idea what to do so he started like this: "Dear Sir, I would like to write for you a poem." (I guess it was written for the English teacher, Sir David. Not me.) The student followed with a two-stanza poem about some bees in trees. It wasn't all bad, but I was still gave him a zero.
This was also my last weekend in Ghana so I tried to buy some 'Ghanaian' things to bring home. I went to Bonwire, a town about twenty minutes from Effiduasi, which is famous for its kente weavers. Kente cloth, which is intricately hand-woven, is central to traditional Ghanaian culture.
When I was in Accra, I met a guy from Bonwire named Phillip and he told me that if I ever wanted kente, I should give him a call. Unfortunately he wasn't in Bonwire this weekend, but he called some colleagues, Elvis and Bright, and told them to meet me. (Note to self: Consider 'Elvis and Bright' as a name if I ever form a band.) Phillip told them to give me a 'family price' which is key since many sellers overcharge when they see foreigners buying kente. I ended up buying a matching (custom-made!) set of kente clothing for my host mom and dad as a thank you present.
Obviously I was already grateful for the special treatment I was receiving. When I arrived in Bonwire, Elvis was literally waiting outside my door when my cab pulled into the station. And when I got to the store, Bright upturned the place, pulling out practically every pattern they carried so I could choose my favorite. The pattern I ended up choosing wasn't completely sewn yet so they stopped the tailor in the middle of his job, gave him my fabric and made him complete it while I waited.
But the hospitality didn't stop there. When it came time to pay, I didn't have enough cash on me. I had to travel to Kumasi, a 40-minute journey, to get to a bank that accepts a Visa debit card. I told them I would return within two hours.
Okay, pause. A couple facts you should know: 1) I live in Effiduasi and 2) Effiduasi is between Kumasi and Bonwire. Ergo, on my way back to Bonwire to pay for my kente, I would pass my hometown.
Bright, knowing these facts, decided he would go with me to Kumasi so he could save me that extra trip. He rode with me the whole way! It took nearly two hours. He even paid for the bus fare. Who does that?!
As I prepare for my departure, I know I will miss Ghana. I've had a great time and I've met some really great people. If there's one thing Americans can learn from Ghanaians, it's hospitality. So for all you reading this, take notes!
(Re: hospitality, see also March 22nd post 'The Ghanaian Way'.)
After spending the weekend grading exams, I realized the gaping disparity between my own American education and that of Africans. The average English score for Stages 4 and 5 probably fell around 50. If I remember correctly, 50 is a failing grade in American elementary schools. Not so here. As long as you get above 34%, you pass. It's not uncommon, however, for students to be held back a grade or even demoted. There is a 12-yr-old in the fourth grade and a 13-yr-old in the fifth (in the States, they should be in 7th and 8th grade, respectively). At the risk of being pedantic, education really is an important - if not the most important - determinant between developed and developing countries. In Ghana, where the vast majority of the economy is based in agriculture, school standards just aren't the same.
One of the most memorable things I saw while grading was on an answer sheet for an English essay. The student had no idea what to do so he started like this: "Dear Sir, I would like to write for you a poem." (I guess it was written for the English teacher, Sir David. Not me.) The student followed with a two-stanza poem about some bees in trees. It wasn't all bad, but I was still gave him a zero.
This was also my last weekend in Ghana so I tried to buy some 'Ghanaian' things to bring home. I went to Bonwire, a town about twenty minutes from Effiduasi, which is famous for its kente weavers. Kente cloth, which is intricately hand-woven, is central to traditional Ghanaian culture.
When I was in Accra, I met a guy from Bonwire named Phillip and he told me that if I ever wanted kente, I should give him a call. Unfortunately he wasn't in Bonwire this weekend, but he called some colleagues, Elvis and Bright, and told them to meet me. (Note to self: Consider 'Elvis and Bright' as a name if I ever form a band.) Phillip told them to give me a 'family price' which is key since many sellers overcharge when they see foreigners buying kente. I ended up buying a matching (custom-made!) set of kente clothing for my host mom and dad as a thank you present.
Obviously I was already grateful for the special treatment I was receiving. When I arrived in Bonwire, Elvis was literally waiting outside my door when my cab pulled into the station. And when I got to the store, Bright upturned the place, pulling out practically every pattern they carried so I could choose my favorite. The pattern I ended up choosing wasn't completely sewn yet so they stopped the tailor in the middle of his job, gave him my fabric and made him complete it while I waited.
But the hospitality didn't stop there. When it came time to pay, I didn't have enough cash on me. I had to travel to Kumasi, a 40-minute journey, to get to a bank that accepts a Visa debit card. I told them I would return within two hours.
Okay, pause. A couple facts you should know: 1) I live in Effiduasi and 2) Effiduasi is between Kumasi and Bonwire. Ergo, on my way back to Bonwire to pay for my kente, I would pass my hometown.
Bright, knowing these facts, decided he would go with me to Kumasi so he could save me that extra trip. He rode with me the whole way! It took nearly two hours. He even paid for the bus fare. Who does that?!
As I prepare for my departure, I know I will miss Ghana. I've had a great time and I've met some really great people. If there's one thing Americans can learn from Ghanaians, it's hospitality. So for all you reading this, take notes!
(Re: hospitality, see also March 22nd post 'The Ghanaian Way'.)
Friday, April 9, 2010
Our Souls ... Can In A Moment Travel Thither
I have made the abrupt and bittersweet decision to terminate my volunteer stint prematurely. Circumstances have changed such that I no longer feel that Ghana is the place I'm supposed to be.
If you've been following my blog, you'll know that I've had the time of my life during these two months in Africa. I've learned a lot about myself and the people here. This will be an unforgettable chapter of my life. (Sorry, I really try to avoid cliches but that one is fitting.)
Thanks to everyone who has supported me through this adventure. Though it is with some regret that I leave, I am looking forward to returning Stateside next week. Stay tuned as I'll be updating with at least one final post.
Peace.
If you've been following my blog, you'll know that I've had the time of my life during these two months in Africa. I've learned a lot about myself and the people here. This will be an unforgettable chapter of my life. (Sorry, I really try to avoid cliches but that one is fitting.)
Thanks to everyone who has supported me through this adventure. Though it is with some regret that I leave, I am looking forward to returning Stateside next week. Stay tuned as I'll be updating with at least one final post.
Peace.
Friday, April 2, 2010
How to Measure a Day
I measure my day in many ways. One way, obviously, is quantitative time. My waking hours are between 4:30am and 8:30pm. I used to be such a night owl, but now my brain shuts down with the setting sun. I feel like a farmer whose productivity depends entirely on daylight. Wait, rewind. I feel like an African whose productivity depends entirely on daylight.
The other, qualitative way I measure time is by small victories that punctuate my otherwise mundane routine. To preface this, I need to share that lately I've had a few episodes of boredom. "How can this be?" you ask. "You're in a completely foreign country, with new people and strange foods and different customs. Stimuli are everywhere." True, but after 6+ weeks, the novelty of living here has worn off. It's no longer shiny and spotless. It's now a little duller where my habits have established themselves. By the end of six months, living here will be like a broken-in (and hand-laundered) pair of jeans.
On more than one occasion, I've heard Ghanaians refer to the US as the Land of Entertainment. I'm now realizing how utterly true that is. For many here, the internet is still some nebulous thing on a computer. I have yet to see any movie theaters. No one has iPods. And when I asked, someone counted the number of Ghanaian TV shows to be around six, not counting the news. (I have no idea if this last tidbit is true since I don't have a TV here. But it supports my point, so I will use it.) Other than teaching and occasionally running errands in town, I really don't have much to do on a daily basis ...
... which is what makes my small victories small victories. This week had not one, not two, but three small victories:
1. Teaching sans Disciplining
One of the classes in my school is ICT which stands for Information, Communication & Technology. It's basically a computer class. But this week, the part-time teacher didn't come to school because he had class at a local polytechnic school. Since I'm his assistant, I was sitting in the class on Monday morning, waiting, when I realized he wasn't coming. So I rallied and brewed up a lesson plan on the spot: The Difference Between A Desktop and a Laptop. I fetched my MacBook to use as a handy-dandy prop and it worked like a charm. The children, who are normally boisterous, talkative and disobedient, were rapt with attention. I opened www.nytimes.com from my Firefox cache and showed them articles and pictures. I even made them memorize the website address and encouraged them to visit it if they want to read an American newspaper. (Yes they are victims of my liberal agenda, muahaha.) I've now taught the lesson three times to different classes, each with resounding success.
2. Struggling Linguist
The local language here is Twi, the native tongue of the Akan people who live in the Ashanti Region. Everyone with a basic education speaks English, so I haven't had a problem interacting with Ghanaians. But I'm at the point now where I really want to KNOW people. And I can't do that if their personal, REAL selves operate in Twi. So I've been trying to learn Twi as well as I can without any formal instruction. I went to the store and bought a children's beginner Twi book. I've been sitting in on Twi lessons they give at my school. I pester the teachers to translate things for me. And I've finally arrived at my small victory. Today, I had three short but complete conversations with different people in town - all in Twi. Though my answers were brief, I at least understood the questions. And yes, it helps that Ghanaians talk with their hands. But still. Small victory.
3. Books are a Girl's Best Friend
I've saved the best small victory for last: today I went to the town library. I noticed it one day while riding the school bus during its morning pick-up round. It's not much. The books are in poor condition and though the shelves are divided by topic, the books are arranged helter-skelter with not even a shadow of alphabetization. But it is a library nonetheless. Since I live and work at the school, I've been hungering for a place where I can get away for a while and have some peace and quiet. And anyone who knows me knows that a good book is all I need to keep me going. So you can imagine my excitement about finding the town library. Today I read Cowper, Blake and Wordsworth from a collection of Romantic English poetry. It was fabulous.
(BTW - The title of my blog comes from Wordsworth's Ode: Intimations of Immortality.)
Here, it's always the small victories that keep me going.
The other, qualitative way I measure time is by small victories that punctuate my otherwise mundane routine. To preface this, I need to share that lately I've had a few episodes of boredom. "How can this be?" you ask. "You're in a completely foreign country, with new people and strange foods and different customs. Stimuli are everywhere." True, but after 6+ weeks, the novelty of living here has worn off. It's no longer shiny and spotless. It's now a little duller where my habits have established themselves. By the end of six months, living here will be like a broken-in (and hand-laundered) pair of jeans.
On more than one occasion, I've heard Ghanaians refer to the US as the Land of Entertainment. I'm now realizing how utterly true that is. For many here, the internet is still some nebulous thing on a computer. I have yet to see any movie theaters. No one has iPods. And when I asked, someone counted the number of Ghanaian TV shows to be around six, not counting the news. (I have no idea if this last tidbit is true since I don't have a TV here. But it supports my point, so I will use it.) Other than teaching and occasionally running errands in town, I really don't have much to do on a daily basis ...
... which is what makes my small victories small victories. This week had not one, not two, but three small victories:
1. Teaching sans Disciplining
One of the classes in my school is ICT which stands for Information, Communication & Technology. It's basically a computer class. But this week, the part-time teacher didn't come to school because he had class at a local polytechnic school. Since I'm his assistant, I was sitting in the class on Monday morning, waiting, when I realized he wasn't coming. So I rallied and brewed up a lesson plan on the spot: The Difference Between A Desktop and a Laptop. I fetched my MacBook to use as a handy-dandy prop and it worked like a charm. The children, who are normally boisterous, talkative and disobedient, were rapt with attention. I opened www.nytimes.com from my Firefox cache and showed them articles and pictures. I even made them memorize the website address and encouraged them to visit it if they want to read an American newspaper. (Yes they are victims of my liberal agenda, muahaha.) I've now taught the lesson three times to different classes, each with resounding success.
2. Struggling Linguist
The local language here is Twi, the native tongue of the Akan people who live in the Ashanti Region. Everyone with a basic education speaks English, so I haven't had a problem interacting with Ghanaians. But I'm at the point now where I really want to KNOW people. And I can't do that if their personal, REAL selves operate in Twi. So I've been trying to learn Twi as well as I can without any formal instruction. I went to the store and bought a children's beginner Twi book. I've been sitting in on Twi lessons they give at my school. I pester the teachers to translate things for me. And I've finally arrived at my small victory. Today, I had three short but complete conversations with different people in town - all in Twi. Though my answers were brief, I at least understood the questions. And yes, it helps that Ghanaians talk with their hands. But still. Small victory.
3. Books are a Girl's Best Friend
I've saved the best small victory for last: today I went to the town library. I noticed it one day while riding the school bus during its morning pick-up round. It's not much. The books are in poor condition and though the shelves are divided by topic, the books are arranged helter-skelter with not even a shadow of alphabetization. But it is a library nonetheless. Since I live and work at the school, I've been hungering for a place where I can get away for a while and have some peace and quiet. And anyone who knows me knows that a good book is all I need to keep me going. So you can imagine my excitement about finding the town library. Today I read Cowper, Blake and Wordsworth from a collection of Romantic English poetry. It was fabulous.
(BTW - The title of my blog comes from Wordsworth's Ode: Intimations of Immortality.)
Here, it's always the small victories that keep me going.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Miscellaneous Post No.1
It's nearly April. I feel like time has flown since I arrived in February. Simultaneously and paradoxically, I feel like I've lived in Ghana forever. In the six weeks that I've been here, I've noticed some things that I want to share but I can't quite fashion a full post from them. So this is the first in a series of Miscellaneous Posts where I dump a random collection of observations and thoughts.
- The currency here is in cedis with 100 pesawas to each cedi. So think pennies to a dollar. But this denomination system was just instituted in 2007. Previously, 10 pesawas was 1,000, making one cedi = 10,000. Though the Ghanaian government tried to simplify things by dividing everything by 100, people still talk in thousands. It can be confusing at times. In fact, I probably just confused you too.
- Some of the names I've come across are a bit odd. I've met a lot of Shadrachs and Bismarks. One of the teachers is named Vergas. As for the students, a couple boys are named Bright, another is Godbless and one girl is Dillis. And there is a boy named Tony Blair. Yeah. And I found out my youngest host sister, Michelle, is named after Obama's wife.
- They LOVE Obama here. I see his picture everywhere. There is even a snack sold in stores called Obama Biscuits.
- The other day in the first grade class, they were teaching animal names. Two of the words were 'cock' and 'bitch'. I started laughing.
- I see spiders in my room sometimes but I leave them alone because I want them to catch and kill mosquitoes.
- Speaking of mosquitoes, I've only had a handful of bites. Until yesterday, that is. For some reason, I got eight bites in a span of just a few hours. Was it something I ate?
- Before I came, I was warned about eating street food which I guess is a general precaution whenever you're traveling to developing countries. But everything is street food here. I have no choice. I haven't had any bad experiences (knock on wood) and it's convenient, tasty and cheap.
- A lot of things are eaten or drunk out of plastic bags. You just bite a hole in the corner and squeeze the contents out. For example, drinking water comes in half-liter sealed packets for 5 pesewas each (~$0.03). In the mornings, I see children eating rice and/or pasta out of plastic bags for breakfast.
- Soda is called 'minerals' here. I have no idea why. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think soda has any minerals.
- Funerals and burials always take place on the last Saturday of each month. Yesterday, it seemed like everyone I saw was wearing funeral garb. There can be up to twenty funerals taking place at the same time in any given town.
- I don't think picking your nose in public is a faux pas here. That or people choose to pick their noses in front of me all the time.
- Sometimes when people need to pee, they say they have to 'ease themselves'. That sounds really weird to me.
- The sanitation outfit here is called Zoom Lion. Each unit is a pair of workers who walk up and down the streets collecting litter; one walks with a broom and shovel and the other rides a bike with a giant bin attached to the back where they put the trash.
- Everyone litters. Confession: I've started to pick up the habit because there aren't trash cans anywhere. I'll stop once I return to the States, I promise.
- I haven't had a really bad bout of homesickness ... yet. The worst time for me is the few minutes right after I wake up in the morning. Sometimes I default to thinking I just woke up at home in the US. Or sometimes my dream was taking place in the US or with my friends and family there.
- I understand that it's the whole poverty thing, but by external measures, people here have really nice bodies. No one is fat. And so much of everyday life is manual that everyone looks really fit. I am oddly more self-conscious here than I ever was in image-centric United States.
- A lot of the clothes sold in stores are secondhand. Often they come from places like the US. The other day, I saw an op/ed article on the BBC website discussing whether this kind of business helps or hurts the African economy. Tailors and made-to-order clothes are still a big business here.
Okay, that's as much as I can remember for now. More to come. Peace.
- The currency here is in cedis with 100 pesawas to each cedi. So think pennies to a dollar. But this denomination system was just instituted in 2007. Previously, 10 pesawas was 1,000, making one cedi = 10,000. Though the Ghanaian government tried to simplify things by dividing everything by 100, people still talk in thousands. It can be confusing at times. In fact, I probably just confused you too.
- Some of the names I've come across are a bit odd. I've met a lot of Shadrachs and Bismarks. One of the teachers is named Vergas. As for the students, a couple boys are named Bright, another is Godbless and one girl is Dillis. And there is a boy named Tony Blair. Yeah. And I found out my youngest host sister, Michelle, is named after Obama's wife.
- They LOVE Obama here. I see his picture everywhere. There is even a snack sold in stores called Obama Biscuits.
- The other day in the first grade class, they were teaching animal names. Two of the words were 'cock' and 'bitch'. I started laughing.
- I see spiders in my room sometimes but I leave them alone because I want them to catch and kill mosquitoes.
- Speaking of mosquitoes, I've only had a handful of bites. Until yesterday, that is. For some reason, I got eight bites in a span of just a few hours. Was it something I ate?
- Before I came, I was warned about eating street food which I guess is a general precaution whenever you're traveling to developing countries. But everything is street food here. I have no choice. I haven't had any bad experiences (knock on wood) and it's convenient, tasty and cheap.
- A lot of things are eaten or drunk out of plastic bags. You just bite a hole in the corner and squeeze the contents out. For example, drinking water comes in half-liter sealed packets for 5 pesewas each (~$0.03). In the mornings, I see children eating rice and/or pasta out of plastic bags for breakfast.
- Soda is called 'minerals' here. I have no idea why. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think soda has any minerals.
- Funerals and burials always take place on the last Saturday of each month. Yesterday, it seemed like everyone I saw was wearing funeral garb. There can be up to twenty funerals taking place at the same time in any given town.
- I don't think picking your nose in public is a faux pas here. That or people choose to pick their noses in front of me all the time.
- Sometimes when people need to pee, they say they have to 'ease themselves'. That sounds really weird to me.
- The sanitation outfit here is called Zoom Lion. Each unit is a pair of workers who walk up and down the streets collecting litter; one walks with a broom and shovel and the other rides a bike with a giant bin attached to the back where they put the trash.
- Everyone litters. Confession: I've started to pick up the habit because there aren't trash cans anywhere. I'll stop once I return to the States, I promise.
- I haven't had a really bad bout of homesickness ... yet. The worst time for me is the few minutes right after I wake up in the morning. Sometimes I default to thinking I just woke up at home in the US. Or sometimes my dream was taking place in the US or with my friends and family there.
- I understand that it's the whole poverty thing, but by external measures, people here have really nice bodies. No one is fat. And so much of everyday life is manual that everyone looks really fit. I am oddly more self-conscious here than I ever was in image-centric United States.
- A lot of the clothes sold in stores are secondhand. Often they come from places like the US. The other day, I saw an op/ed article on the BBC website discussing whether this kind of business helps or hurts the African economy. Tailors and made-to-order clothes are still a big business here.
Okay, that's as much as I can remember for now. More to come. Peace.
Monday, March 22, 2010
The Ghanaian Way.
Being in Ghana means that doing some things is significantly more complicated than doing them in the United States. Example - booking a flight. So I dedicated this past weekend to one thing: go to Accra to plan a trip to London to attend my friend's wedding. Along the way, I learned a couple things which I have coined The Ghanaian Way:
1. Things never go off without a hitch. There's always something that changes plans.
2. Ghanaians' willingness to help more than compensates for any inconveniences.
I left for Accra on Thursday morning. Effiduasi is between Accra and Kumasi but I am only able to board the bus in Kumasi, which meant I started my journey going backwards. I left Effiduasi around 10:45am. I arrived in Accra at 7pm that evening. I rested up, knowing that I had some things to take care of this weekend.
THE IMMIGRATION OFFICE
To do:
- Apply for another visa so I can come back to Ghana after the wedding.
- Apply for an extension on my current visa since it's only good for 60 days.
Annie, a worker at ICYE, is the one in charge of figuring out all the volunteers' visas. She helps by applying for an extension on my behalf. I mentioned that I would be leaving the country in May which means I would only need an extension until then. But to get back into Ghana after the wedding, I need to apply for a whole new visa.
The Ghanaian Way:
1. After waiting at the immigration office for a while, it turned out that I didn't have the proper documentation. I need to present a letter of invitation from ICYE-Ghana to confirm that I am legitimately here as a volunteer. Funny, with things like this, I always have a nagging feeling that something will go wrong. And of course it did. I try to convince myself that the trip wasn't a total waste, but it's hard to keep that thought from crossing my mind.
2. Without a moment's hesitation, Annie said she would go back to the ICYE office and immediately write a letter for me. She plans to return to the office this week to submit my application. The fact that she even came with me in the first place was surprising since this trip is entirely personal and my visa affairs technically don't fall in her responsibility. But she seemed more than happy to help.
BOOKING A FLIGHT TO LONDON
To do:
- Find an affordable flight to London for the last weekend in May.
I could have looked online for flights, but the internet here is super-slow and I don't feel comfortable using my credit card online. I figured that after settling my visa stuff, I would go to a travel agency somewhere in Accra to book my flight.
The Ghanaian Way:
2. (2 comes first in this case.) I mentioned that I needed a travel agency to William, another ICYE worker, before I left for the immigration office. He said he would put me in contact with someone he knows. Sweet. When I returned from the office, he had already found a few flights for me. As we were talking, he paused and said, "Wait I know someone at British Airways. Let me talk to her real quick." In a matter of minutes, William's friend made me a reservation for exactly the days and times that I needed. It is a direct flight. And it is less than what I budgeted to pay. Painless!
1. Well, sorta. The catch is that I had to go to the airport to complete my reservation by paying with my credit card. So the next morning, I woke up early, took two buses and walked a quarter mile to the airport. The office wasn't open yet so the security lady told me to wait an hour. I people-watched in the terminal (which was a lot of fun). When I returned, a different guy told me that the offices don't open until 5 that evening. Um, what? It was about 10am at that point and I had made plans to meet up with family friends in the afternoon. So I and these two airport guys tried to brainstorm the best course of action. I ended up meeting my family friend and dragging her with me to the airport at 4:30. Maybe the office would open early? Wishful thinking. We waited until almost 6 before the ticket agent showed up and I was able to pay for my reservation.
In the end, I waited a lot this weekend. I easily could have become frustrated, but I also realized that this is just the way it is. Things are slow; people are late. Just go with it. But thanks to the help of Annie, William, those airport guys and my family friend, I was able to figure out my trip to London. Hooray for The Ghanaian Way.
(Aaron, if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm coming!)
1. Things never go off without a hitch. There's always something that changes plans.
2. Ghanaians' willingness to help more than compensates for any inconveniences.
I left for Accra on Thursday morning. Effiduasi is between Accra and Kumasi but I am only able to board the bus in Kumasi, which meant I started my journey going backwards. I left Effiduasi around 10:45am. I arrived in Accra at 7pm that evening. I rested up, knowing that I had some things to take care of this weekend.
THE IMMIGRATION OFFICE
To do:
- Apply for another visa so I can come back to Ghana after the wedding.
- Apply for an extension on my current visa since it's only good for 60 days.
Annie, a worker at ICYE, is the one in charge of figuring out all the volunteers' visas. She helps by applying for an extension on my behalf. I mentioned that I would be leaving the country in May which means I would only need an extension until then. But to get back into Ghana after the wedding, I need to apply for a whole new visa.
The Ghanaian Way:
1. After waiting at the immigration office for a while, it turned out that I didn't have the proper documentation. I need to present a letter of invitation from ICYE-Ghana to confirm that I am legitimately here as a volunteer. Funny, with things like this, I always have a nagging feeling that something will go wrong. And of course it did. I try to convince myself that the trip wasn't a total waste, but it's hard to keep that thought from crossing my mind.
2. Without a moment's hesitation, Annie said she would go back to the ICYE office and immediately write a letter for me. She plans to return to the office this week to submit my application. The fact that she even came with me in the first place was surprising since this trip is entirely personal and my visa affairs technically don't fall in her responsibility. But she seemed more than happy to help.
BOOKING A FLIGHT TO LONDON
To do:
- Find an affordable flight to London for the last weekend in May.
I could have looked online for flights, but the internet here is super-slow and I don't feel comfortable using my credit card online. I figured that after settling my visa stuff, I would go to a travel agency somewhere in Accra to book my flight.
The Ghanaian Way:
2. (2 comes first in this case.) I mentioned that I needed a travel agency to William, another ICYE worker, before I left for the immigration office. He said he would put me in contact with someone he knows. Sweet. When I returned from the office, he had already found a few flights for me. As we were talking, he paused and said, "Wait I know someone at British Airways. Let me talk to her real quick." In a matter of minutes, William's friend made me a reservation for exactly the days and times that I needed. It is a direct flight. And it is less than what I budgeted to pay. Painless!
1. Well, sorta. The catch is that I had to go to the airport to complete my reservation by paying with my credit card. So the next morning, I woke up early, took two buses and walked a quarter mile to the airport. The office wasn't open yet so the security lady told me to wait an hour. I people-watched in the terminal (which was a lot of fun). When I returned, a different guy told me that the offices don't open until 5 that evening. Um, what? It was about 10am at that point and I had made plans to meet up with family friends in the afternoon. So I and these two airport guys tried to brainstorm the best course of action. I ended up meeting my family friend and dragging her with me to the airport at 4:30. Maybe the office would open early? Wishful thinking. We waited until almost 6 before the ticket agent showed up and I was able to pay for my reservation.
In the end, I waited a lot this weekend. I easily could have become frustrated, but I also realized that this is just the way it is. Things are slow; people are late. Just go with it. But thanks to the help of Annie, William, those airport guys and my family friend, I was able to figure out my trip to London. Hooray for The Ghanaian Way.
(Aaron, if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm coming!)
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Food Glorious Food
Atkins would never fly here. Everything I eat has starch whether it's rice, yams, plantains, cassava or bread. And it is usually accompanied by some kind of spicy, oily soup or stew. It is certainly filling and on hot afternoons, it can render me comatose. (Would a reference to the itis be appropriate here? Or too much cultural baggage?) When I go to town, I'll try to stop by a fruit stand on my way back to buy pineapple, bananas and/or oranges. The lady there knows me (I'm pretty easy to recognize) and calls me Sister. In general, however, fruit and vegetables are hard to come by so you can imagine that my digestive system has undergone quite an adjustment. I've been taking multi-vitamins religiously to compensate, but they can never replace some good old fashioned carrots and celery.
I usually don't eat breakfast on the weekdays. Lately, I've been waking up early around 4:30 to go for a run - a small victory each day. It's the only time I feel comfortable jogging outside because 1) it's not sweltering and 2) few people are out so stares are minimal. With running and showering, etc. I don't have time for a meal, which is fine.
For lunch, I eat what the schoolchildren eat from the canteen (a word I find very quaint for some reason). After all the children are served, teachers get their portions. The meals each week cycle through some semblance of the following:
Monday: Rice & sauce
Tuesday: Kenkey
Wednesday: Banku
Thursday: Rice & beans & sauce
Friday: Repeat one of the above
You're asking, "What the heck are kenkey and banku?" Just wait, full details pending.
Since lunch is usually generous, I will sometimes opt out of supper (another quaint word). When I don't, my host mom will prepare something for me. I've noticed that she tries to keep it westernized. Often I get rice or pasta with some salad. Of course, I always make sure to finish my greens. Sometimes, she'll make something local like fried plantains or fufu - two of my favorites. (Fufu details also pending.)
Sometimes when I'm out with friends, we'll order food at a restaurant. Usually it's a stew with some kind of meat. I always assume it's beef, but I think I've eaten goat as well. Sometimes I ask, sometimes I don't. I figure it won't kill me. The other day, my friend ordered some meat in a stew with rice balls. It was super spicy and super delicious. I should also mention that all food is eaten with hands from a communal bowl. I've been good about the whole when-in-Rome thing but I still haven't mastered eating rice with my hands. (Lezi, thank you for the chopsticks!)
I've had a chance to taste a lot of the local foods here but I thought I would spotlight a few of the most common. I also threw in a few of the popular drinks.
Fufu - the signature food of the Ashanti Region where I live. People make this from scratch which involves pounding cassava and plantains with a mortar and pestle. You can always tell when a family is making fufu because you can hear the pounding. The result is a sticky, dough-like ball that you eat by dipping in a spicy palm nut stew.
I'm helping to pound fufu for supper.
Banku - (I can't find a specific link, sorry.) I think this is made from cassava. You tear bits of beaten cassava and dip it in okra soup. Spicy and oily okra soup (of course).
Kenkey - the signature food of the Accra Region, kenkey is cornmeal wrapped in corn husks to cook. The result tastes a little like sourdough and has the consistency of firm mashed potatoes. This is also served with a spicy sauce.
Jollof Rice - reminds me of Chinese fried rice which is fine by me.
Pitou - (Again, can't find a link.) This is a local beer of sorts. It is served in a halved, hollowed out calabash shell. It's fermented, but doesn't bubble the way beer normally does. It has a tartness to it but overall isn't bad. I think it would be better cold, but refrigeration isn't a strong point here (hard to imagine, I know).
Palm Wine - distilled from the roots of palm trees. It is sweet (too sweet in my opinion) and usually served at room temperature or a little warmer.
Akpeteshi - palm wine in concentrate. They evaporate all the water out of palm wine and it eventually becomes a clear, super-strong gin. I think I'm going to steer clear of akpeteshi as much as I can (go ahead and read between the lines if you want).
Epilogue:
I take a certain pride in being open to new foods and I think I've fared pretty well in Ghana. I generally like the food though it tends to be a little too starchy and oily for my taste. But I thought I would throw out another list ... a list of foods that I really miss:
- All Asian foods: Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, Japanese, Thai
- Beers: Yuengling, Fat Tire, Lagunitas, Bell's, Chimay, Yards
- Burgers from The Bulldog and New Deck
- Moriarty's wings
- Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee
- Coke Zero
- Hummus with pita chips, carrots or peppers
- Pasta with Muir Glen sauce (shameless plug)
- Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream
- Wawa hoagies & coffee
- Whole Foods salad bar
- Pizza
- Yogurt
Okay I need to stop because this is making me really depressed.
Instead, I thought I'd post some pictures of my host sisters. Enjoy.
This is Precious (Age 11), me (Age 25) and Serwaa (Age 5).
Precious, Michelle (Age 0) and Watema (Age 3).
The girls and some neighborhood kids who come over to play.
I usually don't eat breakfast on the weekdays. Lately, I've been waking up early around 4:30 to go for a run - a small victory each day. It's the only time I feel comfortable jogging outside because 1) it's not sweltering and 2) few people are out so stares are minimal. With running and showering, etc. I don't have time for a meal, which is fine.
For lunch, I eat what the schoolchildren eat from the canteen (a word I find very quaint for some reason). After all the children are served, teachers get their portions. The meals each week cycle through some semblance of the following:
Monday: Rice & sauce
Tuesday: Kenkey
Wednesday: Banku
Thursday: Rice & beans & sauce
Friday: Repeat one of the above
You're asking, "What the heck are kenkey and banku?" Just wait, full details pending.
Since lunch is usually generous, I will sometimes opt out of supper (another quaint word). When I don't, my host mom will prepare something for me. I've noticed that she tries to keep it westernized. Often I get rice or pasta with some salad. Of course, I always make sure to finish my greens. Sometimes, she'll make something local like fried plantains or fufu - two of my favorites. (Fufu details also pending.)
Sometimes when I'm out with friends, we'll order food at a restaurant. Usually it's a stew with some kind of meat. I always assume it's beef, but I think I've eaten goat as well. Sometimes I ask, sometimes I don't. I figure it won't kill me. The other day, my friend ordered some meat in a stew with rice balls. It was super spicy and super delicious. I should also mention that all food is eaten with hands from a communal bowl. I've been good about the whole when-in-Rome thing but I still haven't mastered eating rice with my hands. (Lezi, thank you for the chopsticks!)
I've had a chance to taste a lot of the local foods here but I thought I would spotlight a few of the most common. I also threw in a few of the popular drinks.
Fufu - the signature food of the Ashanti Region where I live. People make this from scratch which involves pounding cassava and plantains with a mortar and pestle. You can always tell when a family is making fufu because you can hear the pounding. The result is a sticky, dough-like ball that you eat by dipping in a spicy palm nut stew.
I'm helping to pound fufu for supper.
Banku - (I can't find a specific link, sorry.) I think this is made from cassava. You tear bits of beaten cassava and dip it in okra soup. Spicy and oily okra soup (of course).
Kenkey - the signature food of the Accra Region, kenkey is cornmeal wrapped in corn husks to cook. The result tastes a little like sourdough and has the consistency of firm mashed potatoes. This is also served with a spicy sauce.
Jollof Rice - reminds me of Chinese fried rice which is fine by me.
Pitou - (Again, can't find a link.) This is a local beer of sorts. It is served in a halved, hollowed out calabash shell. It's fermented, but doesn't bubble the way beer normally does. It has a tartness to it but overall isn't bad. I think it would be better cold, but refrigeration isn't a strong point here (hard to imagine, I know).
Palm Wine - distilled from the roots of palm trees. It is sweet (too sweet in my opinion) and usually served at room temperature or a little warmer.
Akpeteshi - palm wine in concentrate. They evaporate all the water out of palm wine and it eventually becomes a clear, super-strong gin. I think I'm going to steer clear of akpeteshi as much as I can (go ahead and read between the lines if you want).
Epilogue:
I take a certain pride in being open to new foods and I think I've fared pretty well in Ghana. I generally like the food though it tends to be a little too starchy and oily for my taste. But I thought I would throw out another list ... a list of foods that I really miss:
- All Asian foods: Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, Japanese, Thai
- Beers: Yuengling, Fat Tire, Lagunitas, Bell's, Chimay, Yards
- Burgers from The Bulldog and New Deck
- Moriarty's wings
- Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee
- Coke Zero
- Hummus with pita chips, carrots or peppers
- Pasta with Muir Glen sauce (shameless plug)
- Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream
- Wawa hoagies & coffee
- Whole Foods salad bar
- Pizza
- Yogurt
Okay I need to stop because this is making me really depressed.
Instead, I thought I'd post some pictures of my host sisters. Enjoy.
This is Precious (Age 11), me (Age 25) and Serwaa (Age 5).
Precious, Michelle (Age 0) and Watema (Age 3).
The girls and some neighborhood kids who come over to play.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
It's about the little people.
I'm encountering new people everyday. Some are friends, some are not. Some are young, some are old. Some are poor, some are well-off (by Ghanaian standards). But there's one population that has overwhelmed me more than any other because it is both familiar and utterly alien: the children.
If an American child worked as hard as an African child, I think he would die. I don't think I'm lazy (for the most part) but these children put me to shame. My host family has five girls. The eldest, Precious (age 11), is up every morning between 4:30 and 5 and the first thing she does is sweep the house and the compound surrounding it. Everything here is dusty. And she doesn't use one of those industrial brooms that clears a room with a few sweeps. The brooms here are bunches of little reeds tied together. Since it's only about a foot-and-a-half long, you have to stoop to use it. I usually wake up to the sound of her sweeping outside.
Meanwhile, Aminiampong (age 9), the second eldest, is taking care of Michelle, the infant daughter. She is often going about her business with Michelle tied to her back. She also fetches water from the spigot outside so her mom can use it while cooking. I've seen children do some serious heavy lifting whether it's buckets of water or stacks of chairs or piles of books. And they carry these things on their heads ... something I want to try one day but I'm too embarrassed to. During school, teachers always ask students to carry books from one class to another. They also stay after class to sweep the rooms clean. Who needs a janitor when you have children around?
Children are not coddled here. They are tough little people who work hard and have an amazing tolerance for physical discomfort. Even little five-year-olds have calloused hands from who-knows-what. They are also super-jacked. I envy the little girls and their shapely arm muscles. I have decided that when I have children, I will teach them the African work ethic.
But I'm conflicted about one particular aspect of African child-rearing: the cane.
Every teacher has a cane that s/he uses during class to keep the children in order. I've seen some serious lashings on the bum, the head, the hands, the shoulders, wherever. But the children accept it; it's just the way it is. In fact, children will only respect the cane when it comes to discipline. I've tried shouting, I've tried guilt-tripping, I've tried sending them to Time Out. But nothing works. When I yell at one group of students, another group will advise me, "Madam! You must beat them. Beat them, Madam!" (Yes, they call me Madam Katrina.)
The children can be monsters if they decide to misbehave. I substituted in Stage 1 (first grade) and they were screaming, running, hitting each other, stealing bags and dumping its contents and wreaking general havoc. I won't lie, I wanted so badly to hit them all. Since then, I've decided to stick with the older classes that are a smidge easier to control. Usually if a teacher can hear another class misbehaving, it's assumed that it's my class and he will come in - with his cane - and reinstate order for me. I can't decide if these moments are a relief or an embarrassment.
In the end, however, I love the children - demons or angels they may be - and they are the ones who make my work worthwhile. They're just so freakin' cute. It's always rewarding when I walk around town on errands and students come out from their homes to greet me, "Madam Katrina! Hello Madam! How are you?"
If an American child worked as hard as an African child, I think he would die. I don't think I'm lazy (for the most part) but these children put me to shame. My host family has five girls. The eldest, Precious (age 11), is up every morning between 4:30 and 5 and the first thing she does is sweep the house and the compound surrounding it. Everything here is dusty. And she doesn't use one of those industrial brooms that clears a room with a few sweeps. The brooms here are bunches of little reeds tied together. Since it's only about a foot-and-a-half long, you have to stoop to use it. I usually wake up to the sound of her sweeping outside.
Meanwhile, Aminiampong (age 9), the second eldest, is taking care of Michelle, the infant daughter. She is often going about her business with Michelle tied to her back. She also fetches water from the spigot outside so her mom can use it while cooking. I've seen children do some serious heavy lifting whether it's buckets of water or stacks of chairs or piles of books. And they carry these things on their heads ... something I want to try one day but I'm too embarrassed to. During school, teachers always ask students to carry books from one class to another. They also stay after class to sweep the rooms clean. Who needs a janitor when you have children around?
Children are not coddled here. They are tough little people who work hard and have an amazing tolerance for physical discomfort. Even little five-year-olds have calloused hands from who-knows-what. They are also super-jacked. I envy the little girls and their shapely arm muscles. I have decided that when I have children, I will teach them the African work ethic.
But I'm conflicted about one particular aspect of African child-rearing: the cane.
Every teacher has a cane that s/he uses during class to keep the children in order. I've seen some serious lashings on the bum, the head, the hands, the shoulders, wherever. But the children accept it; it's just the way it is. In fact, children will only respect the cane when it comes to discipline. I've tried shouting, I've tried guilt-tripping, I've tried sending them to Time Out. But nothing works. When I yell at one group of students, another group will advise me, "Madam! You must beat them. Beat them, Madam!" (Yes, they call me Madam Katrina.)
The children can be monsters if they decide to misbehave. I substituted in Stage 1 (first grade) and they were screaming, running, hitting each other, stealing bags and dumping its contents and wreaking general havoc. I won't lie, I wanted so badly to hit them all. Since then, I've decided to stick with the older classes that are a smidge easier to control. Usually if a teacher can hear another class misbehaving, it's assumed that it's my class and he will come in - with his cane - and reinstate order for me. I can't decide if these moments are a relief or an embarrassment.
In the end, however, I love the children - demons or angels they may be - and they are the ones who make my work worthwhile. They're just so freakin' cute. It's always rewarding when I walk around town on errands and students come out from their homes to greet me, "Madam Katrina! Hello Madam! How are you?"
Friday, March 12, 2010
Visual evidence.
Hooray, the internet today seems to be working much faster than normal so I'm going to post some pics. But as luck would have it, I'm here while 'on the clock'. The school director pulled me from class and sent me on an errand to the internet cafe to print some stuff for the school. So I'm only going to spend as much time here as my conscience affords. When I have more time, I will post more pics.
Here is my school, American Co-operative.
Some of the nursery students.
At the market in Kumasi (ref. March 1 post).
The lead male in the parade for March 6 (ref. March 8 post).
We just found out we won the marching competition.
Here is my school, American Co-operative.
Some of the nursery students.
At the market in Kumasi (ref. March 1 post).
The lead male in the parade for March 6 (ref. March 8 post).
We just found out we won the marching competition.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Proud to be an American
Saturday, March 6, was Ghana's Independence Day. Just as we celebrate July 4 with fireworks, Ghanaians celebrate their independence with a parade. The parade is a competition among all local schools and their marching brigades. Winning first place is not only a recognition of hard work and practice, but it is also a school's ticket to bragging rights for the rest of the year. My school's brigade had been training for weeks in preparation for this day. The students arrived at the school at 6am in cleanly-pressed uniforms. The girls had their hair done and donned matching earrings and socks. The boys shined their shoes and straightened their ties. Everything had to be perfect. Last year, American Cooperative (ACS) got third place and this year, we would settle for nothing less than first.
Once we got to the parade grounds, we waited for over three hours as other schools arrived. The school that lined up next to us was the Muslim school and all the girls wore headscarves. Apparently we were next to them last year as well and the teachers joked about how the Americans and Iraqis can't seem to get away from each other. (Aside: I also met a guy nicknamed Bush as in George W. I asked why everyone calls him Bush and his friends said, "Because he's crazy.") As we waited, anticipation mounted then dwindled as the students became impatient and hungry. Some teachers and I snuck off to 'take something' (Ghanaian euphemism for drinking). Upon our return, the drumming had started and the stands were full. Our time had come to march.
And march we did. With perfection. First place perfection. When they announced that we won, the teachers, students and I ran around like fools, cheering and waving our Ghanaian and American flags. We then boarded our school bus and drove around town, singing loudly and announcing our winnings to all the neighbors. We were probably really obnoxious. Our chant was something along the lines of "We are the Americans. Mighty mighty Americans. Champion Americans. Super Super Americans." The irony is that I was the only American. But whatever.
This weekend was indeed one of new experiences because I went to an African church for the first time yesterday. The service was over 4 hours long and nearly everything was in Twi, the local language. It was sufficiently awkward and, at some points, the boredom was nearly intolerable (sorry God), but it was still nice to go to church. Everyone here goes to church. It makes the Bible Belt look pagan. I've never been to a place where strangers get excited to hear that I'm a Christian.
But I will save my religious/philosophic ruminations for a separate post.
Just know that this weekend was a lot of fun. I spent a lot of it hanging out with the other teachers. It helped that we had something to celebrate. And I have friends now. Yay.
FYI - Black, green, yellow and red are the colors of the Ghanaian flag. Apparently it is also harder to read but thanks for reading anyway.
Once we got to the parade grounds, we waited for over three hours as other schools arrived. The school that lined up next to us was the Muslim school and all the girls wore headscarves. Apparently we were next to them last year as well and the teachers joked about how the Americans and Iraqis can't seem to get away from each other. (Aside: I also met a guy nicknamed Bush as in George W. I asked why everyone calls him Bush and his friends said, "Because he's crazy.") As we waited, anticipation mounted then dwindled as the students became impatient and hungry. Some teachers and I snuck off to 'take something' (Ghanaian euphemism for drinking). Upon our return, the drumming had started and the stands were full. Our time had come to march.
And march we did. With perfection. First place perfection. When they announced that we won, the teachers, students and I ran around like fools, cheering and waving our Ghanaian and American flags. We then boarded our school bus and drove around town, singing loudly and announcing our winnings to all the neighbors. We were probably really obnoxious. Our chant was something along the lines of "We are the Americans. Mighty mighty Americans. Champion Americans. Super Super Americans." The irony is that I was the only American. But whatever.
This weekend was indeed one of new experiences because I went to an African church for the first time yesterday. The service was over 4 hours long and nearly everything was in Twi, the local language. It was sufficiently awkward and, at some points, the boredom was nearly intolerable (sorry God), but it was still nice to go to church. Everyone here goes to church. It makes the Bible Belt look pagan. I've never been to a place where strangers get excited to hear that I'm a Christian.
But I will save my religious/philosophic ruminations for a separate post.
Just know that this weekend was a lot of fun. I spent a lot of it hanging out with the other teachers. It helped that we had something to celebrate. And I have friends now. Yay.
FYI - Black, green, yellow and red are the colors of the Ghanaian flag. Apparently it is also harder to read but thanks for reading anyway.
Monday, March 1, 2010
And I thought I was a city girl.
I love cities. I can do the trail mix outdoors-y vacations, sure, but in the end, I'd much prefer visiting a city. Or so I thought.
This weekend I went to Kumasi, the capital of the Ashanti Region and Ghana's second-largest city after Accra. It was a 45min tro-tro (bus) ride from Effiduasi. There, I finally met Douglas, my ICYE contact and go-to guy in Kumasi. He's been calling/texting to check on me ever since I arrived. He has worked with volunteers for years and has answered all my random questions including "Where do I get a bus to Ejisu?" and "Are there homosexuals in Ghana?" (Answers: 'Roman Hill' and 'Not openly'). Fellow volunteers Sally and Katharina also came to Kumasi from Accra so we could be tourists together.
Saturday was packed with sightseeing and a lot of wandering. We started at the National Cultural Centre, a walled-in, serene area nestled in the Bantama neighborhood. It had some shops with traditional African ware as well as a tourist office which was closed on Saturday morning (because that makes a lot of sense). Next came the massive Kejetia Market composed of ramshackle stalls hawking goods ranging from butchered animal parts to tailored clothing to kitchen supplies. We, of course, managed to enter at the meat section - a rank, stinky, fly-riddled area that we unfortunately had a hard time escaping. My traveling buddies were thoroughly horrified, but thanks to my many experiences in Chinatowns across America, I was only mildly disgusted.
We then cabbed our way to Manhyia Palace where the current Ashanti king lives. We toured the museum and learned Ghanaian and Ashanti history. For being a king's palace, I found Manhyia very unassuming and rather modest. After lunch, we wandered to a supermarket to buy water. Our next stop was Kumasi Fort and since Kumasi is nearly devoid of streetsigns, we resorted to taking cheap cab rides rather than venturing it alone. We told the driver "Kumasi Fort" but his acknowledgement was dubious. When we arrived, he insisted it was the place so we got out and it immediately became obvious that we were NOT at Kumasi Fort. After much confusion with three different drivers, we finally got another cab ... that brought us to Kumasi Fort about two blocks away from the supermarket we just visited.
Ultimately, I had fun in Kumasi, but I realized a few reasons why a large Ghanaian city may not be the best for me:
1. As mentioned, Kumasi has no street signs and some streets do not appear on my map. This makes navigating the city on foot very difficult. And I believe walking a city is the best way to explore.
2. People are seedier. Though expected, I hate being overcharged for something just because I am a foreigner. I also do not like being touched or grabbed by men as I'm walking down the street.
3. Some givens in Western cities just do not exist in Ghanaian ones. For example, we had to hunt down a coffeeshop which was on the other side of town. No Starbucks imperialism here. Also, I was in Kumasi for less than 48 hours and the hotel lost power twice and the water stopped running about halfway through. At least in Effiduasi, something like that is expected.
4. The city is noisy all the time. There was some kind of parade, complete with drums and shouting, that went right under my window ... at 6:30am on Sunday.
Nevertheless, I will have to befriend Kumasi one way or another as it has a number of resources that Effiduasi does not. I expect each trip to be just as eventful. In fact, I am finding that everything is an adventure here.
On another note, I've received a few questions about my general living standard and what modern conveniences I am doing without. Here are a few that I can think of right now:
1. I do not have toilet paper. Instead, we use old newspapers.
2. I do not have a pillow but I think that's just me. Ghanaians have pillows, I just didn't get one with my bed. But I'm still sleeping well.
3. I do not have a washing machine. I do laundry by hand which means that the cleanliness of my clothes is questionable. I did find out, however, that my family hires a woman to do the wash and I'm welcome to add my stuff to the load.
4. The house doesn't have a functioning sink so I brush my teeth and wash my face in the shower.
5. Tampons are not sold in Effiduasi. To find them, I have to go to Accra or Kumasi.
And then, of course, there are the heavy-hitters that you should have figured out if you've been reading my blog:
6. I do not always have running water.
7. I do not always have electricity.
8. I do not have internet at home.
9. I do not have AC.
This is not to be confused as a list of complaints. In fact, I really like living here and I've adjusted swimmingly. I've sacrificed some in terms of hygiene and comfort, but overall, my life is simple and pleasant. It's very liberating to learn what I can live without.
(I know I've promised pictures, but my connection here is so slow that I don't think I'll be able to put them up. They will have to wait until the next time I go to Accra or Kumasi where the internet is faster. Apologies.)
This weekend I went to Kumasi, the capital of the Ashanti Region and Ghana's second-largest city after Accra. It was a 45min tro-tro (bus) ride from Effiduasi. There, I finally met Douglas, my ICYE contact and go-to guy in Kumasi. He's been calling/texting to check on me ever since I arrived. He has worked with volunteers for years and has answered all my random questions including "Where do I get a bus to Ejisu?" and "Are there homosexuals in Ghana?" (Answers: 'Roman Hill' and 'Not openly'). Fellow volunteers Sally and Katharina also came to Kumasi from Accra so we could be tourists together.
Saturday was packed with sightseeing and a lot of wandering. We started at the National Cultural Centre, a walled-in, serene area nestled in the Bantama neighborhood. It had some shops with traditional African ware as well as a tourist office which was closed on Saturday morning (because that makes a lot of sense). Next came the massive Kejetia Market composed of ramshackle stalls hawking goods ranging from butchered animal parts to tailored clothing to kitchen supplies. We, of course, managed to enter at the meat section - a rank, stinky, fly-riddled area that we unfortunately had a hard time escaping. My traveling buddies were thoroughly horrified, but thanks to my many experiences in Chinatowns across America, I was only mildly disgusted.
We then cabbed our way to Manhyia Palace where the current Ashanti king lives. We toured the museum and learned Ghanaian and Ashanti history. For being a king's palace, I found Manhyia very unassuming and rather modest. After lunch, we wandered to a supermarket to buy water. Our next stop was Kumasi Fort and since Kumasi is nearly devoid of streetsigns, we resorted to taking cheap cab rides rather than venturing it alone. We told the driver "Kumasi Fort" but his acknowledgement was dubious. When we arrived, he insisted it was the place so we got out and it immediately became obvious that we were NOT at Kumasi Fort. After much confusion with three different drivers, we finally got another cab ... that brought us to Kumasi Fort about two blocks away from the supermarket we just visited.
Ultimately, I had fun in Kumasi, but I realized a few reasons why a large Ghanaian city may not be the best for me:
1. As mentioned, Kumasi has no street signs and some streets do not appear on my map. This makes navigating the city on foot very difficult. And I believe walking a city is the best way to explore.
2. People are seedier. Though expected, I hate being overcharged for something just because I am a foreigner. I also do not like being touched or grabbed by men as I'm walking down the street.
3. Some givens in Western cities just do not exist in Ghanaian ones. For example, we had to hunt down a coffeeshop which was on the other side of town. No Starbucks imperialism here. Also, I was in Kumasi for less than 48 hours and the hotel lost power twice and the water stopped running about halfway through. At least in Effiduasi, something like that is expected.
4. The city is noisy all the time. There was some kind of parade, complete with drums and shouting, that went right under my window ... at 6:30am on Sunday.
Nevertheless, I will have to befriend Kumasi one way or another as it has a number of resources that Effiduasi does not. I expect each trip to be just as eventful. In fact, I am finding that everything is an adventure here.
On another note, I've received a few questions about my general living standard and what modern conveniences I am doing without. Here are a few that I can think of right now:
1. I do not have toilet paper. Instead, we use old newspapers.
2. I do not have a pillow but I think that's just me. Ghanaians have pillows, I just didn't get one with my bed. But I'm still sleeping well.
3. I do not have a washing machine. I do laundry by hand which means that the cleanliness of my clothes is questionable. I did find out, however, that my family hires a woman to do the wash and I'm welcome to add my stuff to the load.
4. The house doesn't have a functioning sink so I brush my teeth and wash my face in the shower.
5. Tampons are not sold in Effiduasi. To find them, I have to go to Accra or Kumasi.
And then, of course, there are the heavy-hitters that you should have figured out if you've been reading my blog:
6. I do not always have running water.
7. I do not always have electricity.
8. I do not have internet at home.
9. I do not have AC.
This is not to be confused as a list of complaints. In fact, I really like living here and I've adjusted swimmingly. I've sacrificed some in terms of hygiene and comfort, but overall, my life is simple and pleasant. It's very liberating to learn what I can live without.
(I know I've promised pictures, but my connection here is so slow that I don't think I'll be able to put them up. They will have to wait until the next time I go to Accra or Kumasi where the internet is faster. Apologies.)
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Sink or swim.
I've nearly completed my first week as a teaching assistant at the American Cooperative International School (ACIS). Here's a sketchy outline of my days so far:
4:30 My host family wakes up, blares the radio and gets ready for the day.
5:00 I groggily get out of bed.
6:00 I board a clunky old school bus with Thomas, the driver, for the morning rounds.
8:00 I arrive back at the school under a massive pile of schoolchildren.
8:15-3:00 I shadow teachers during different sessions to get a feel for how to teach.
3:30 I walk into town to run errands and/or visit the internet cafe.
5:30 I take supper that my host mom, Madam Hega, has prepared.
6:00 I play with my five host sisters, the oldest of whom is 11, the youngest is less than 1.
8:00 I bathe and retreat to my room where I try to stop sweating before going to bed.
9:30 Bedtime.
So obviously this whole experience is different from anything I've done before. I like the routine of it but the children keep everything interesting. They have names like Shadrach, Augusta, Anastasia and Samuella. And they find different ways to act out in class which can be both nightmarish and endearing.
The teachers have been super gracious and hospitable so far. I'm trying my best to be friendly and outgoing but apparently I'm still too introverted. They keep asking why I'm so quiet. Um .. maybe because I have no idea what I'm doing?! I talked to Mr. Alex, the man who started the school, and he is asking that I help with the English curriculum. Not a problem. I was an English major after all and I've tutored reading for years.
But he also asked that I teach 'American' things. This is the American Cooperative School after all. Suddenly, I am an expert on all things American and I have to be able to teach 500 students at the same time. A teacher asked me to sing the national anthem ... and I couldn't! I would venture to say that the average American does not know all the lyrics of the Star-Spangled Banner.
So that's what I've been doing at the internet cafe today. I googled the lyrics to our national anthem and America the Beautiful. And now I'm re-learning our pledge of allegiance.
This'll be interesting.
4:30 My host family wakes up, blares the radio and gets ready for the day.
5:00 I groggily get out of bed.
6:00 I board a clunky old school bus with Thomas, the driver, for the morning rounds.
8:00 I arrive back at the school under a massive pile of schoolchildren.
8:15-3:00 I shadow teachers during different sessions to get a feel for how to teach.
3:30 I walk into town to run errands and/or visit the internet cafe.
5:30 I take supper that my host mom, Madam Hega, has prepared.
6:00 I play with my five host sisters, the oldest of whom is 11, the youngest is less than 1.
8:00 I bathe and retreat to my room where I try to stop sweating before going to bed.
9:30 Bedtime.
So obviously this whole experience is different from anything I've done before. I like the routine of it but the children keep everything interesting. They have names like Shadrach, Augusta, Anastasia and Samuella. And they find different ways to act out in class which can be both nightmarish and endearing.
The teachers have been super gracious and hospitable so far. I'm trying my best to be friendly and outgoing but apparently I'm still too introverted. They keep asking why I'm so quiet. Um .. maybe because I have no idea what I'm doing?! I talked to Mr. Alex, the man who started the school, and he is asking that I help with the English curriculum. Not a problem. I was an English major after all and I've tutored reading for years.
But he also asked that I teach 'American' things. This is the American Cooperative School after all. Suddenly, I am an expert on all things American and I have to be able to teach 500 students at the same time. A teacher asked me to sing the national anthem ... and I couldn't! I would venture to say that the average American does not know all the lyrics of the Star-Spangled Banner.
So that's what I've been doing at the internet cafe today. I googled the lyrics to our national anthem and America the Beautiful. And now I'm re-learning our pledge of allegiance.
This'll be interesting.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
My new home.
After a four-hour bus ride from Accra, I have finally arrived at my host project. It's in a city called Effiduasi, which is about 60km from Kumasi, the capital of the Ashanti Region in Ghana. I also now have the 411 on what my situation will be for the next six months. (Btw - I can't even use the word 'situation' without thinking of Jersey Shore. Thanks MTV. Thanks a lot.)
First things first. Here's my contact information for those who want it.
Mobile: +233 05467 03716
Mailing Address:
Katrina Liu
American Cooperative Int'l School
P.O. Box 143
Effiduasi, Ashanti
Ghana
Effiduasi 411:
The city has all the amenities including a bank, post office, supermarket and two internet cafes. From what I can tell, the weather is a bit cooler too. At this time in Accra, I would be drenched in sweat. But currently in Effiduasi, my skin is only slightly clammy. Since it was Saturday, everyone was outside, lounging and hanging out. White people (obroni) do not come to Effiduasi so I got a ton of attention. Nevermind the fact that I'm not actually white, as long as I'm not black. Kids would follow me, calling, "Obroni! Obroni!" The girls couldn't believe that my hair could be so soft and real (i.e. no weave) at the same time.
Living 411:
My host family is the school director, Sekyere Boateng, and his family of five girls. I can't help but think of the Bennett sisters. Their home (and mine) is in a building right on the school premises so I have a short commute. I have my own room, complete with a full-size bed and mosquito net. My host mom cooks my meals. Yesterday I had fufu, a popular local dish. It's a spicy stew with different meats, accompanied by a sticky dough ball. It's good, but I'm still uncomfortable eating with my hands. Another teacher, Michael, was the one showing me around and I made him leave the room while I ate, haha.
But the best part is that I have running water in the house! This means there's a flushing toilet and working showerhead. No more lugging water back and forth in buckets. I am probably making my fellow volunteers in Accra jealous. (Hello Kath and Sal if you're reading this!)
Teaching 411:
The school is called The American Cooperative International School and is Kindergarten through Grade 5. It is the initiative of Alex Kamoa, a Ghanaian-American (or American-Ghanaian, not sure which), but he is currently in the States. The school follows an American syllabus with courses in math, reading and science. There's even a little computer lab, which is a big deal here. There are roughly 500 students with a student-teacher ratio of 50:1. It's obvious, then, why they need teaching assistants.
Retraction: Before coming, I thought this was an orphanage but it turns out my project description was incorrect. The students are indeed disadvantaged, but most have homes to go to. I also said there's a farm. There is, but women traditionally do not do manual labor so I probably won't be working in that capacity. Too bad, since I was kind of looking forward to building up my ploughing muscles.
Note: I have pictures to accompany this post but somehow the connection here isn't letting me upload them. I'll add them at a later time so stay posted.
First things first. Here's my contact information for those who want it.
Mobile: +233 05467 03716
Mailing Address:
Katrina Liu
American Cooperative Int'l School
P.O. Box 143
Effiduasi, Ashanti
Ghana
Effiduasi 411:
The city has all the amenities including a bank, post office, supermarket and two internet cafes. From what I can tell, the weather is a bit cooler too. At this time in Accra, I would be drenched in sweat. But currently in Effiduasi, my skin is only slightly clammy. Since it was Saturday, everyone was outside, lounging and hanging out. White people (obroni) do not come to Effiduasi so I got a ton of attention. Nevermind the fact that I'm not actually white, as long as I'm not black. Kids would follow me, calling, "Obroni! Obroni!" The girls couldn't believe that my hair could be so soft and real (i.e. no weave) at the same time.
Living 411:
My host family is the school director, Sekyere Boateng, and his family of five girls. I can't help but think of the Bennett sisters. Their home (and mine) is in a building right on the school premises so I have a short commute. I have my own room, complete with a full-size bed and mosquito net. My host mom cooks my meals. Yesterday I had fufu, a popular local dish. It's a spicy stew with different meats, accompanied by a sticky dough ball. It's good, but I'm still uncomfortable eating with my hands. Another teacher, Michael, was the one showing me around and I made him leave the room while I ate, haha.
But the best part is that I have running water in the house! This means there's a flushing toilet and working showerhead. No more lugging water back and forth in buckets. I am probably making my fellow volunteers in Accra jealous. (Hello Kath and Sal if you're reading this!)
Teaching 411:
The school is called The American Cooperative International School and is Kindergarten through Grade 5. It is the initiative of Alex Kamoa, a Ghanaian-American (or American-Ghanaian, not sure which), but he is currently in the States. The school follows an American syllabus with courses in math, reading and science. There's even a little computer lab, which is a big deal here. There are roughly 500 students with a student-teacher ratio of 50:1. It's obvious, then, why they need teaching assistants.
Retraction: Before coming, I thought this was an orphanage but it turns out my project description was incorrect. The students are indeed disadvantaged, but most have homes to go to. I also said there's a farm. There is, but women traditionally do not do manual labor so I probably won't be working in that capacity. Too bad, since I was kind of looking forward to building up my ploughing muscles.
Note: I have pictures to accompany this post but somehow the connection here isn't letting me upload them. I'll add them at a later time so stay posted.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Embassy Escapade.
Of course one of the first things on my To Do list was to go to the US Embassy to register myself. I don’t really know how it works, but I imagine that if Ghana suffered a major catastrophe and the jungle was burning down, an official US black hawk helicopter would swoop into Effiduasi and rescue me in epic glory. You know, because I’m registered and all.
So yesterday after lunch, I went to the US Embassy with my ICYE escort, Annie. We took one bus (trotro) and a group taxi and walked several blocks to get to the Embassy gate. The guard politely but unapologetically informed us that the Consular Office was closed for the day and I have to return the next morning.
Strike 1.
This morning started with Twi language lessons with our teacher Morgan. After class, I jetted out, hoping to make it to the Embassy before noon. This time I went by myself, which was both nerve-wracking and empowering. I took two trotros and walked the rest of the way. Dripping sweat, I arrived at the Consular Office where the attendant told me that all registrations are done through the internet. I couldn’t register in person if I wanted to.
Strike 2.
The trip wasn’t an epic fail, however. At one of the bus stops, a woman approached me and we started talking. She knew a few Chinese words and I wondered how. It turns out that she knew some people from Ghana Textiles, a company that employed many Chinese workers including, at one time, my grandfather.
Hit.
After the lady left, a young man came to the bus stop. He was well dressed and heck, I’ll admit it, kind of cute. He said hi and asked where I was going. ‘Police Hospital,’ I said. He was going to the passport office, which is further out so instead of taking the trotro, he needed a taxi. One pulled up and he chatted with the driver for a bit. Before getting in, he turned to me and said, ‘I’ll give you a lift.’ I jumped in the backseat and scored a free ride.
Home run!
(Attention men! Take notes. I’ve never wanted to give my number to a guy. Ever. That is, until this well-dressed-passport-getting-Ghanaian-man let me mooch a free taxi ride.)
(Attention Daddy! Don’t worry, I didn’t actually give him my number. I know better than to hang out with strange men.)
Tomorrow I will leave Accra to go to Kumasi. From there, I’ll meet an ICYE volunteer who will take me to Effiduasi where my host project is. It’s a small village a little ways out of Kumasi. There, I’ll finally be meeting my host family and seeing where I’ll be living for the next six months. I can’t wait.
As promised, below are some pictures from my first days in Ghana. I’m not too camera-happy because I don’t want to be rude. The advice I’ve received is to live in a place for a bit, figure out its comings and goings and then take the camera out.
Welcome at the airport.
So yesterday after lunch, I went to the US Embassy with my ICYE escort, Annie. We took one bus (trotro) and a group taxi and walked several blocks to get to the Embassy gate. The guard politely but unapologetically informed us that the Consular Office was closed for the day and I have to return the next morning.
Strike 1.
This morning started with Twi language lessons with our teacher Morgan. After class, I jetted out, hoping to make it to the Embassy before noon. This time I went by myself, which was both nerve-wracking and empowering. I took two trotros and walked the rest of the way. Dripping sweat, I arrived at the Consular Office where the attendant told me that all registrations are done through the internet. I couldn’t register in person if I wanted to.
Strike 2.
The trip wasn’t an epic fail, however. At one of the bus stops, a woman approached me and we started talking. She knew a few Chinese words and I wondered how. It turns out that she knew some people from Ghana Textiles, a company that employed many Chinese workers including, at one time, my grandfather.
Hit.
After the lady left, a young man came to the bus stop. He was well dressed and heck, I’ll admit it, kind of cute. He said hi and asked where I was going. ‘Police Hospital,’ I said. He was going to the passport office, which is further out so instead of taking the trotro, he needed a taxi. One pulled up and he chatted with the driver for a bit. Before getting in, he turned to me and said, ‘I’ll give you a lift.’ I jumped in the backseat and scored a free ride.
Home run!
(Attention men! Take notes. I’ve never wanted to give my number to a guy. Ever. That is, until this well-dressed-passport-getting-Ghanaian-man let me mooch a free taxi ride.)
(Attention Daddy! Don’t worry, I didn’t actually give him my number. I know better than to hang out with strange men.)
Tomorrow I will leave Accra to go to Kumasi. From there, I’ll meet an ICYE volunteer who will take me to Effiduasi where my host project is. It’s a small village a little ways out of Kumasi. There, I’ll finally be meeting my host family and seeing where I’ll be living for the next six months. I can’t wait.
As promised, below are some pictures from my first days in Ghana. I’m not too camera-happy because I don’t want to be rude. The advice I’ve received is to live in a place for a bit, figure out its comings and goings and then take the camera out.
Welcome at the airport.
The street outside the volunteer house in Accra.
The shore.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
I'm in Africa. For real.
I only have a few minutes, but I wanted to say, "Oh my goodness. I'm in Africa."
I landed in Accra early Tuesday morning where I was greeted with an obscene amount of heat and humidity. I was picked up by an ICYE worker and taken to the volunteer house where I'll be staying until Saturday. During my few days in Accra, I'll be going through orientation. It's a helpful but small step to understanding the vast differences between the US and Ghana.
Here are just a few of my first thoughts in Ghana:
1. I am obroni. Meaning 'white person'. I am also from the United States. Meaning 'money'.
2. Life here is slower. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the life.
3. The language here is unlike anything I've heard before. I'm learning a few key phrases which really helps to break the ice. Usually people just stare at me.
4. Running water and electricity are amazing blessings that no one should ever take for granted. I am slowly but surely learning to bathe from a bucket.
5. This is awesome.
Pictures will come, as soon as I figure out the logistics of getting them onto a computer that's not my own (i.e. a computer with internet).
I landed in Accra early Tuesday morning where I was greeted with an obscene amount of heat and humidity. I was picked up by an ICYE worker and taken to the volunteer house where I'll be staying until Saturday. During my few days in Accra, I'll be going through orientation. It's a helpful but small step to understanding the vast differences between the US and Ghana.
Here are just a few of my first thoughts in Ghana:
1. I am obroni. Meaning 'white person'. I am also from the United States. Meaning 'money'.
2. Life here is slower. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the life.
3. The language here is unlike anything I've heard before. I'm learning a few key phrases which really helps to break the ice. Usually people just stare at me.
4. Running water and electricity are amazing blessings that no one should ever take for granted. I am slowly but surely learning to bathe from a bucket.
5. This is awesome.
Pictures will come, as soon as I figure out the logistics of getting them onto a computer that's not my own (i.e. a computer with internet).
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Arsenal.
I've been packing all day so I thought I'd take a break and blog. Half my bag is underwear and medications. The other half is my insect repelling arsenal:
1 mosquito net
1 pair insect-repelling pants/shorts (the kind with zip-off legs)
1 insect-repelling short sleeve shirt
1 insect-repelling long sleeve shirt
2 4oz. bottles Ben's repellent (30% deet)
4 1.25oz. bottles Ben's repellent (98% deet)
2 2oz. Ultrathon repellent cream (34% deet)
1 tube Odomos repellent cream
24 Moskigo adhesive patches with Citronella scent
1 bottle B-1 vitamins
1 tub Vicks Vaporub
1 2oz. tube Cortaid Intensive Therapy
1 1oz. tube Benadryl Itch-Stopping Cream
I will use all of this at once if I have to. Those mosquitoes won't know what hit 'em.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Lists are good for keeping thoughts straight.
Six days and I'm off. I'm so overwhelmed with emotions, plans, excitement and fears that I can't keep my thoughts straight. I hope this is normal.
Things I'm trying not to freak out over:
1. Loneliness and culture shock. It's inevitable so I'm building my stockpile of coping mechanisms now. Music, books, etc. And I need to overcome my introversion.
2. Language barrier. English is the national language but most people, especially older generations, speak local dialects.
3. My living space. I can handle no electricity and no running water. But if I can't find privacy and space, I'll go nuts.
4. My health. Even stuff that should keep me healthy, like my malaria medicine, could make me sick. Its side effects include hallucinations and vivid dreams. It doesn't help that I just listened to a This American Life podcast about a guy who lost his memory while using the same medicine.
Reasons why Ghana will be awesome:
1. New people! I can't wait to meet my fellow teachers at the school. I don't know if there will be any other volunteers there, but it would also be nice to meet other international workers.
2. Kids! Working with kids is good at revealing what's really important.
3. Warm Weather! Philadelphia is getting two feet of snow tomorrow. The high in Ghana today is 82 degrees.
4. Escape! Sometimes it helps to take a step away from normality in order to understand it. I'm looking forward to what I will learn about myself.
Aside: To all those who have supported me with well wishes and funding, I owe you a HUGE HUGE THANK YOU! It is both humbling and motivating to know that you all care about me that much. Many thanks.
Things I'm trying not to freak out over:
1. Loneliness and culture shock. It's inevitable so I'm building my stockpile of coping mechanisms now. Music, books, etc. And I need to overcome my introversion.
2. Language barrier. English is the national language but most people, especially older generations, speak local dialects.
3. My living space. I can handle no electricity and no running water. But if I can't find privacy and space, I'll go nuts.
4. My health. Even stuff that should keep me healthy, like my malaria medicine, could make me sick. Its side effects include hallucinations and vivid dreams. It doesn't help that I just listened to a This American Life podcast about a guy who lost his memory while using the same medicine.
Reasons why Ghana will be awesome:
1. New people! I can't wait to meet my fellow teachers at the school. I don't know if there will be any other volunteers there, but it would also be nice to meet other international workers.
2. Kids! Working with kids is good at revealing what's really important.
3. Warm Weather! Philadelphia is getting two feet of snow tomorrow. The high in Ghana today is 82 degrees.
4. Escape! Sometimes it helps to take a step away from normality in order to understand it. I'm looking forward to what I will learn about myself.
Aside: To all those who have supported me with well wishes and funding, I owe you a HUGE HUGE THANK YOU! It is both humbling and motivating to know that you all care about me that much. Many thanks.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Now a nerd, always a nerd.
I had the most pleasant surprise this weekend. Charlene and Aaron came to Philadelphia (pleasant, but not a surprise) and we had a blast. Lots of eating and drinking - Resurrection Ale House, Vietnamese and Korean food - with splashes of dancing and karaoke. But the best part was receiving the Nook as a present from not one, not two, but thirteen of my friends! Surprise!I love to read. There's no getting around it. I'm a super-nerd. And when I think about my time in Ghana, I'm afraid that I will run out of things to read (God forbid). For obvious reasons, I can't lug around all the books I will consume over the next six months. So I decided that I would step it up, enter the new century, and buy an electronic book reader.
But I didn't have to. Because my friends are amazing and they bought one for me. I was so touched, I cried when I opened it. Icing on the cake: it already came with Pride & Prejudice on it. Thank you friends! Every time I turn it on, I will think of you and all your support. I'm one lucky duck.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Betwixt and between.
Do you ever have a string of days when an insignificant but specific thing keeps popping up again and again? For example, on Saturday, I was in Brooklyn with a friend where we decided to have a movie night. By a pseudo-democratic method, we decided to watch Empire Records and Donnie Darko. Coincidentally, a character gets accepted to Harvard in both movies.
The most recent novel I read was The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling. I did not know that The Jungle Book is actually a collection with more than just the tale of Mowgli and Baloo. (This is yet more evidence of how Disney monopolized my formative childhood years. I was very excited to see 'normal' animation in The Princess & The Frog.) In one of these smaller stories, an elephant is described as 'betwixt and between' because he knows more than the average jungle creature but less than humans. I had never heard that phrase before.
The book I'm reading now is The New Kings of Non-Fiction edited by Ira Glass. It is a collection of interesting, in-depth and insightful articles by reporters including Malcolm Gladwell and Susan Orlean. I'm reading, reading, reading. And what phrase do I find? Betwixt and between.
Seeing that phrase chase me around gave me pause and I realized that that's exactly where I am: betwixt and between. The dust is now settling after a flurry of leaving work, moving to Philly, holidaying in Los Angeles and celebrating the New Year. My trip to Ghana is still over five weeks away. My only job now is to wait. And I'm not very good at it.
I have a few things to do before heading to Africa. I need to finalize my enrollment to law school (and possibly business school) at Temple but that's about it. I've been diligent about keeping my apartment clean and running errands promptly. Heck, I'm even blogging.
I know I will long for this time in the near future. A time of rest and autonomy. But I'm ready to move on. I'm ready for some stress in my life. I'm ready for Ghana. Get me out of the betwixt and between.
(Postscript - I got Apple gift cards for Christmas! Does this mean someone is actually reading this blog? It's quite validating. Thanks!)
The most recent novel I read was The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling. I did not know that The Jungle Book is actually a collection with more than just the tale of Mowgli and Baloo. (This is yet more evidence of how Disney monopolized my formative childhood years. I was very excited to see 'normal' animation in The Princess & The Frog.) In one of these smaller stories, an elephant is described as 'betwixt and between' because he knows more than the average jungle creature but less than humans. I had never heard that phrase before.
The book I'm reading now is The New Kings of Non-Fiction edited by Ira Glass. It is a collection of interesting, in-depth and insightful articles by reporters including Malcolm Gladwell and Susan Orlean. I'm reading, reading, reading. And what phrase do I find? Betwixt and between.
Seeing that phrase chase me around gave me pause and I realized that that's exactly where I am: betwixt and between. The dust is now settling after a flurry of leaving work, moving to Philly, holidaying in Los Angeles and celebrating the New Year. My trip to Ghana is still over five weeks away. My only job now is to wait. And I'm not very good at it.
I have a few things to do before heading to Africa. I need to finalize my enrollment to law school (and possibly business school) at Temple but that's about it. I've been diligent about keeping my apartment clean and running errands promptly. Heck, I'm even blogging.
I know I will long for this time in the near future. A time of rest and autonomy. But I'm ready to move on. I'm ready for some stress in my life. I'm ready for Ghana. Get me out of the betwixt and between.
(Postscript - I got Apple gift cards for Christmas! Does this mean someone is actually reading this blog? It's quite validating. Thanks!)
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