Ada Foah

My first weekend back in the Hills a group of volunteers decided to spend Saturday night in Ada Foah.  For those of you not familiar with Ghanaian geography (which I can only assume is most of you) Adah Foah is the place were the Volta River meets that Atlantic Ocean.  We didn’t actually stay in Ada Foah, but rather some grass huts a good hour and a half walk (or 15 minute boat ride) down the beach.  Our accommodations was like something I had never seen before.  As you approached, you could see three larger thatched dining tents and a series of smaller grass huts in the background.  Once we were on land we had a closer look at the huts and were delightly to find the door of each hut was painted with the flage of a different country.  They had one with the Canadian flag (guess where I stayed that night).  

Nothing overly exciting happened that day.  We were starving when we arrived so we ordered lunch, which came promptly a good 2 hours later (typical Ghanaian service), played some volleyball, and watched a beach football match between some of the volunteers with a naked 5 year old boy who lives in the area and was nothing but giggles the entire time.

Upon arriving in Ada Foah, Huebert (one of my housmates) mentioned how the last time he was here he took the hour’s walk down the beach to where the Volta meets the Atlantic to watch the sunrise.  I though that would be a really cool thing to do, so the next morning I headed out, flashlight in hand, at 04:30 on my walk down the beach.  However, the barking stray dogs, eyes glowing in the light of my flashlight, and the fact that had not actual looked at the path I needed to take before quickly turned me back to my hut.  At 07:30 (in the daylight) I headed out on my journey once again.  I would like to say that the walk was gorgeous and picturesque, but it wasn’t.  It has the potential, but still needs a lot of work.  The area immediate surrounding the huts is quite beautiful, however, walking just a minute beyond that, the impact of the lack of drinkable running water is crystal clear.  The beach was littered with thousands of empty plastic water sachets, along with plastic bottles, old soccer balls, and other pieces of trash that have washed ashore, to the point where parts of the beach more closely resembled a landfill rather than a beach.  

(Volta River on the left, Atlantic Ocean on the right)

After walking for only a short time, I came to a large sandhill and decided to climb up it to see he view.  

From there you could see in the distance where the Volta meets the Atlantic.  I have to say that the view is very deceiving, as it looked like I could reach the point in less than 15 minutes.  However, 50 minutes later, I finally reached the point. 

As I approached I could see fishing boats docked on the beach and some Ghanaians lying about.  Two of the Ghanaians approached me a told me that if I wanted to take pictures here I would have to pay them.  I asked them if they lived there, and they say they didn’t, they just came there to fish.  I politely told them that I didn’t arrive in Ghana yesterday, and that I wouldn’t be paying them anything.  With that, they let me by.  Walking further, an older fisherman named Emmanuel greeted me and we chatted for a bit.  I then walked to the edge of the point and sat down to enjoy the view and bask in the sun.  Another fisherman sat down beside me and we started chatting.  His name was James and he was around my age.  He told me that a lot of the people here used to be students, but when they couldn’t afford to go anymore, they came here to fish.  He had been fishing there everyday for 4 months.  The fisherman arrived at around 6 every morning and alternate between fishing and resting 2-3 hours at a time.  They sell the smaller fish that they catch and keep the larger ones to feed their families.  They fish both on the Volta side and the Atlantic side of the peninsula and the best months for fishing are August, September and October.  After chatting for a bit more, I figured it was about time to leave, as the others were now probably awake and wondering where I had run off to.  Before going I stole some water at the point where the two bodies of water meet to take back home with me. And with that I headed out on my hour’s long trek back up the beach.  We spent the rest of the morning just relaxing in the sun before heading back to back to the main land and back to the Hills in the early afternoon.

Back in the Hills

I am now back in the Hills (although I leave very shortly) and am very glad that I decided to come back.  I am no longer living with my host family in Mampong (as they weren’t the friendliest of people and we had very little independence) but instead am living with a family in Mamfe.  Gerald (the father) is the headmaster of a local school, I’m not sure what his wife Cynthia does (but unlike Oye, she does work) and they have 3 children, Paulina (8), Jane (6) and Brian (2).  Brian is absolutely adorable and has the most infectious smile.  However, Brian is a little different than most 2 year olds.  He is non-verbal, has trouble interacting with his family and rarely makes eye-contact with people.  Most of the time he seems to be in his own little world and is quite content in being there.  He also has tape on his fingers to try and stop him from biting them.  From my experiences living with Brian, I am 95% sure he has autism.  However, I don’t think he has ever been diagnosed.  In Canada coming up with a diagnosis is very important, but here I don’t think it makes much of a difference.  Dr. Boakye and I talked quite a lot about the differences between Ghana and Canada in regards to support for children with special needs.  In Ghana, supports for children with special needs are all but non-existent.  Many are placed in institution-type school where neglect and abuse could be considered the norm.  Others go to a regular school where there aren’t the resources to even teach he average child let alone one with special needs.  I saw only a handful of special needs children at the pediatric clinic, and Dr. Boakye never seemed to have a positive outlook for their future.  It is rather sad to know that Brian, even with his infectious smile, will not be able to get the help he needs to reach his full potential, just because of where he was born. 

Living in Mamfe is very different than living in Mampong.  The family here is a lot friendlier and I have a lot more freedom.  The food here is also a million times better than in Mampong.  We have two meals a day, breakfast at around 6:30-7 (for me anyways) and lunch/dinner at 3.  For breakfast 2 loaves of bread are laid out on the table and we cut off as much as we want and have the choice of butter, peanut butter, jam or chocolate spread (ya, that’s right, I said chocolate spread) as toppings.  There are also bananas in the fridge and we can make ourselves tea or coffee.  Every second day we also get omelets.  For supper we have a weekly schedule: Monday – Rice balls and groundnut soup, Tuesday – Spaghetti, red sauce, fried chicken and salad (ya, that’s right, here we get vegetables), Wednesday – Fried Yam, red sauce and fried chicken, Thursday – Mashed yam, and boiled chicken in light soup, Friday – Jollof rice, boiled egg and salad, Saturday – I don’t know as I’ve never been here, and Sunday – either Fufu or Red Red.  We also have pineapple and groundnuts in the fridge that we can eat at our leisure.  As an added bonus, I also had running water for 3 days (I never looked forward to a cold shower so much!).

While in the Hills I have been working on a building project in Yesu So, a 50 peyswa tro ride north of Mamfe.  We are currently building a classroom for the local school, as there are currently too many students to hold in the building they have (to the point that the younger students are taught outside, under a group of trees.  The children at the school are absolutely adorable, and always eager to help.  I am always taken aback at how excited the kids are to see us each day.  I do have a favorite though.  Her name is Joyce and she is 8 years old. Every morning she greets me as I walk through the field to the school and takes my bag from me to carry.  She always has the biggest smile on her face when I let her carry my bag.  Tomorrow is my last day doing building, and I am going to give her the bag at the end of the day.

It has been really exciting to see the progress that we have made in the short time that I have been helping with the project.  The first day I was there we were plastering the exterior of the building, as the classroom was constructed with mud bricks, and without a coat of cement on top mud bricks would soon become just mud in the rain season.  Plastering was a lot of fun, although mixing the cement was definitely hard work (and something I became quite familiar with when I was in the DR).  The technique for plastering was quite simple:

1. pick up cement with trowel

2. throw it against the wall

3. pray that the cement sticks to the wall

4. spread cement that actually stuck

Needless to say, it was a little bit messy of a job (I came home absolutely covered).  The next couple of days were spent leveling out the mud inside the classroom and laying the cement.  It was really impressive how quickly the project moved ahead and how good the building looked once that floor was in.  More recently, Karen and I have been painting the inside, while the boys have been busy starting on the foundation of the second classroom (yay for sexism! Lol).  Yesterday we managed to put on one coat (well at least as high as we could reach) and today I finished the top half of the first coat while Karen started on the second.  Painting the top half was interesting to say the least, as it involved me perched on top of a hand-made “ladder” for the better part of the morning (and by ladder I mean pieces of wood nailed together to resemble a ladder-like structure… I have seen some pretty sketchy ladders in my day, but this one definitely takes the cake).  We painted for a couple of hours, until we got overtaken by some of the overly enthusiastic school children, and thus decided to break early for the day.  But I have thoroughly enjoyed working on the building project, as you can actually see the progress being made, and you know that all the hard work is going towards something that is desperately needed and will be appreciated.

(why the school needs another classroom)

(child labour)

(rough floor)

(level floor)

(flat floor)

(free ride back in the back of a flat bed... i was very pleased)

(sketchy sketchy ladder)

(trench for foundation of new classroom)

(joyce is the one in the red sweater)

(multiplication...)

(exponentially???)

Accra

...this post was written before I left Accra... over a week ago... I am now back in the Hills... and loving it!!!..

            Last Wednesday I moved to Accra.  Being in Accra has allowed for a great deal of what life is like in the capital, to life in rural Ghana.  I have to say, I prefer rural Ghana.  Fortunately though, my time in Accra is almost up, as I will be moving back to the hills on Wednesday to spend my final two weeks in the country helping to build an orphanage in Kwamoso.  Before I left though, I thought it would be good to summarize what a different experience volunteers get being in the Capital. 

Safety

            Safety is a big issue living in the capital.  Although Ghana itself is considered to be quite a safe country, the most stable West African country at that, Accra is not the safest place to be. Although the crime and violence doesn’t nearly compare to that of Johannesburg or Lagos, in more recent years, crime has been rising in Accra.  The place I am living, although not the worst, is still not the safest place to be.  The day I got here my roommates casually told me about how the previous week on two separate occasions volunteers had been mugged on my street, one at knife point, the other punched in the face and knocked to the ground.  Although I have not been mugged her, my roommate and I have been followed when walking the two blocks home from a chop bar after dark.  Back in the hills, being mugged is unheard of, and you’re biggest worry is not tripping over a rock and falling on your face after dark.

 

Healthcare

            When I worked at Tetteh Quashire, I was working at a district hospital run by the state. Because of this, the hospital was lacking in many needed resources, and lives were and are still being lost, just because the hospital is not fully equipped.  The Trust Hospital in Accra (where I am now working, albeit for a short period time) is a hospital run by SSNIT (Social Security and National Insurance Trust) and people have to pay to be seen there.  It is the first hospital I’ve seen that I wouldn’t be absolutely terrified of being sick in.  Although I was suppose to spend my entire time in at the Trust Hospital in general surgery, due to an administration error, I spent my first two days in the OPD, which allowed for an eye opening comparison of the forms of healthcare available in Ghana.  At the Trust Hospital, not only does it seem that they have quality physicians, but they also have the resources there for the physicians.  Blood tests, and urine and stool samples were almost every patient occurrences, and treatment was not prescribed until results were obtained.  Chest x-rays were ordered for every suspicious cough or sore rib, and if results weren’t satisfactory, the patient was then sent for a CT (care difficult for a patient in Canada to even receive).  However, like I mentioned previously, you have to pay for the medical care here, and most Ghanaians can’t afford to be sick here (although the bills I saw were mere pocket change compared to what you would have to pay for the same service in the States) and instead have to rely on the underfunded and overworked state hospitals for their medical care.  It is also very interesting that with a more westernized hospital, comes some of the westernized politics.  At the end of each day in the OPD drug reps (for drugs I have actually heard of) would try to sell the doctors on how they should put their patients on their drugs.  One of the doctors even went as far as to say that they’d put all their patient in a particular study on the rep’s drug, if the drug company would pay for all the lipid profiles of the patients during the study [insert ethical judgment of your own here].

 

The People

Ghanaians

I don’t know how much can be contributed to my growing prejudice towards this city, but the Ghanaians in Accra seem different than those I have met elsewhere in Ghana.  For once, walking down the street as a white person doesn’t make you an immediate celebrity.  I have only been called obruni on a rare occasion here, as the locals here are more likely to call you “white lady” if they acknowledge you at all.  Although obruni and white lady mean the same thing, I do prefer the term obruni, as it almost always had had a friendly meaning behind it, whereas those who call you white lady on the streets of Accra tend to be looking to get something from you (be it a phone number, an address, or money).  Because of this, as well as knowingly being a target for crime here, I have come to not trust the Ghanaians I meet on the street in Accra.  It is unfortunate, as in the midst of those who see only dollar signs in my eyes, I am probably also dismissing some who are really only looking for a friend to talk to.

 

The Volunteers

There are currently some 60 Projects Abroad Volunteers spread out through Accra working on various projects.  That being said, my perspective of the volunteers in Accra may be somewhat skewed, as I have only met 5 of them (and 3 of those I met during my orientation session to Accra).  However, from the little I have seen, I find the volunteers in Accra to be much different from those that you find in the Hills.  Perhaps it is not the volunteers themselves, but rather the environment, as Accra is unique in itself, a place where bucket showers meet hair straighteners, where bread and egg ladies meet supermarkets.  One of my roommates talked of how her and the other volunteers go to Ryan’s Pub (an Irish pub with 8.50 cedi drinks) every night and how she gets pizza from Koala for lunch, or will grab a cheese baguette. It’s an odd sort of mix of some western conveniences and African flare.  But I sort of feel sorry for the volunteers in Accra, as Accra is so different from the rest of Ghana, and they’re not really getting the true African experience by being there, and that’s definitely not how I want to spend my last couple weeks in Ghana, and thus the Hills here I come! (again)

 

My Host Family

The one regret in leaving Accra is leaving my host family.  While in Accra I have been living with the Wolfe family.  Mr. Wolfe (who is somewhere beyond 70, although he never told me his exact age) is a retired mechanical engineer and Mrs. Wolfe (63) is a schoolteacher at a catholic high school.  The Wolfe’s are one of the original projects abroad host families, and I was very glad I got to stay with them while in Accra.  They are a complete 180 from the family with in Mampong.  The first day I got to Accra, I ended up talking for over an hour about astrology, religion, and other random topics.  It was quite a shock to have a host family that actually talks to you, as my longest conversation with Frank in Mampong was perhaps 2 sentences (and that only happened once).  Mrs. Wolfe was also incredibly nice.  On Saturday afternoon, after I saw Obama, we got to talking, probably for 1-1.5 hours about nothing in particular.  At one point she asked about what Ghanaian food I have tried here, and what I have and have not liked.  I told her that I quite liked banku, and absolutely love groundnut soup.  After we finished talking I went back to my room and heard a knock on my door about half an hour later.  It was Mrs. Wolfe, saying that she had some banku and groundnut soup for me.  I was so surprised, and so grateful, as that is something that would have never happened with my host family in Mampong.  The night before I left, my host family gave me rice and groundnut soup (even though that isn’t one of our regular meals), just because I like it so much.  If I could have transported that family back to the Hills with me, I think my stay in Ghana would have been absolutely perfect!

the view from my home in accra

my bedroom

living room

where we eat breakfast and supper

my lunch everyday (2 packages of these and a juice box)

very healthy... i don't know what spongy agent is... and i don't think i want to know