First and foremost, I want to alert the troops that my arch nemesis has been defeated. Thanks to the efforts of Raid and a ten-year-old boy who beat it with a pen, Edward Arachnid, the mega spider form the corner of my room, was laid to rest on Wednesday October 20, 2010 at approximately 7:09pm. R.I.P. Edward. On that note, I in no way meant to elicit pity or worry with my previous post. My life in Ghana is very different from my perfect sanitary life in Kentucky. I don’t have all the luxuries of home or the comfort of friends and family, but I promises I will survive. To me the cultural and environmental differences are not wrong or bad; they are just funny. I hope this post will convince each of you that I will survive.
The Oasis
The supermarket in Ho is like an oasis. The outside of the building has bars reminiscent of a high security prison yet the neon sign glows like a nightclub. An array of items is scattered half haphazardly on petite shelves between which narrow aisles allow restricted navigation. It is a comfort to know that (for the most part) they have everything I could ever need. The first time I went I got the essentials: bug spray to kill Edward and the ants, a rag to clean my room and an air freshener to alleviate the fire smell which wafts through my window. The second visit was a little less about necessity and more about indulgence. I bought a can of Nutella-ish spread and crackers! Who knows what I will buy next?
Pure Glee
The kids caught me on my computer and ever since it has been their obsession. I taught them to navigate iTunes first. So far their favorite songs are Forever Young by Jay-Z and Intuition by Jewel. They decided to have a dance competition so they made me score cards and the winner got to listen to my iPod for 30-minutes all by themselves. Most of the time they have no clue what the words mean, but they sure can dance. One of my favorite questions of that evening was, “Why can’t white people dance?” Hahaha
They also love watching the Glee episodes I have on my iTunes. I only have three and I swear they have watched each of them no less than 10 times. Rachel is their favorite character. One of the boys wanted me to call and ask her to marry him. They have started to memorize some of the dances. I plan to film a Glee episode African style before I leave.
Next I showed them some of my pictures and I couldn’t believe what a great teaching opportunity it turned out to be. They were surprised by the things that they found similar to Ghana as well as deeply intrigued by the differences. They thought Daisy, my sister’s goat, was a pig and Ray, our great dane, was a donkey. They laughed for literally 30-minutes when they saw the picture of Chelsea, my dog, in her coat, boots and hat. They wanted to know all about snow, the ocean, African Americans and ski boats. Their curiosity is endless. I can only imagine what would happen if I showed them the Internet.
Reflection
Yesterday, as I went to close the door of my house I caught a glimpse of myself in the windowpane. I had to take a double take. There aren’t other white people here so it had to be me and I obviously haven’t changed drastically in three week, but it was just weird. The insignificance of my appearance here stands in stark contrast to my self-conscious life in the states. I couldn’t imagine leaving the house in the morning without fixing my hair, doing my make-up and putting on clean clothes. Here these things don’t matter. Obviously I keep myself as clean as possible, but it is nice disregard the unnecessary primping.
Just Teach
I am a teacher now. I have all the freedom in the world too. I can show up at any school, go into any classroom and teach whatever I want. It sounds cool, but it is actually really difficult.
During a visit with the headmaster at the Primary School it was decided that I would teach. I thought that meant I would teach some other time, but I was wrong. He meant right then. He gave me zero guidance. He didn’t tell me what to teach or who I was going to be teaching. He suggested that I teach whatever I wanted. What does that mean? He pushed me into a classroom with about 30 of the oldest kids. I was terrified. I assumed that the kids would understand me, but boy was I wrong. They looked at me like I had two heads, seven eyes and four noses as I introduced myself. After I had them introduced themselves I called it a day and dismissed myself. I ask the headmaster when to return and he told me that whenever I come I will teach. I haven’t been back yet, but I know I will have to soon. Maybe I will prepare a topic that can be discussed by playing charades.
At the Junior High School I got a little more direction. I will be teaching technology in all three classes on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. I didn’t get a textbook, but I at least got a brief syllabus. The first thing on the syllabus is computer mouse skills. With that I assumed that there would be a functional computer in the classroom. WRONG. In the back of one classroom there is one non-functional device deserving a prominent place in an electronics museum as the first computer ever marketed to the public. I also got to observe some teachers in action. One teacher had her baby running around the classroom throwing chalk while she taught. Another answered his cell phone while a kid was answering a question. It’s going to be a long semester.
Where in the World is…?
I found a world map in my house. One night when the kids were over, I brought it out. I ask them to point of Ghana. Of the twenty or so kids present not one could tell me where Ghana was. One was sure it was in Utah while another pointed to Australia. I decided to make it easy. I ask them to show me where Africa was. To my amazement, only one kid could point to Africa. Most of them had never seen a World map. I couldn’t believe it. I remember seeing maps and globes all over my house, in books, on the TV and at school. To some this may seem like a minor glitch in their education, but to me it is a big deal. How can one have any understanding of the world without knowing where they are and what else is out there? From now on when they look through my pictures I will make sure they know where in the world the photo was taken.
Don’t you want a Fanta, Fanta!
Christy, my caretaker, is always busy doing something. Every forth day she makes the journey to Ho to the market. On these dreadful days her daughter, whom I still don’t know her name, takes care of serving my lunch. She is not a very happy person. She is younger than I yet has a two-month-old baby boy (that looks like an old man in the face). She stays at home all day everyday so her distaste for life is slightly understandable. A smile rarely ventures upon her face, except for lunchtime on market days when it appears stretched from ear to ear as she serves me a pack of crackers and a Fanta. At first I thought this smile was an I-hope-you-like-it smile but now I think it is a Hahaha I-could-serve-her-air-and-she-would-say-thank-you smile. I really don’t mind that it isn’t much to eat; it is the Fanta that kills me. I haven’t had a carbonated beverage since probably 6th grade. I wanted to cry when she first sat it on my table. I attempted to tell her I didn’t want it, but that didn’t translate well. She stood there smiling as I took my first drink. I tried to smile but a few tears dropped from my eyes as it burned all the way down. I guess she missed that tear part because I got it again the next time. Every market day I am reminded why I stopped drinking soda.
Jesus The Way
Fun fact: My house doubles as the senior citizen church called Jesus the Way. Yep, you read that right. Though the denomination is unknown, it’s pernicious effect on me sleep is well understood. Services are held either outside my door or next to my window early in the morning or late at night on any day of the week. I am afforded the opportunity to hear every out-of-tune voice-cracking hymn, ahem and halleluiah as well as every clap, drumbeat, cane stomp and maraca shake. On Sundays, they are particularly devoted. They arrive around 5:00am and remain engaged until about 11:00am. It is particularly interesting when I must pass through the service to go to the bathroom or to bath.
Beads?
Kids in my village rarely wear clothes it seems. Instead they are seen wearing only flip-flops and three strands of beads around their waist. Evidently it is a disgrace not to wear these beads. I can’t tell that there is anything special about these small beads. There are different colors, but all are of the same made in china style. From my investigation, it appears that the beads represent the family’s ability to provide for their child. An individual is not suitable for marriage without them. I thought there could be more to the story so I ask my Christy. She was surprised that I didn’t have any and insisted that I must have them before the wedding I was to attend. That made me nervous. What was going to happen at this wedding that would require me to have these beads? The answer was nothing, but she put them on me before I left and now I find them annoying. They dig into my back when I carry my backpack, get caught on my pants and are obnoxious when bathing. I would take them off, but Christy checks periodically that I am still wearing them. I guess I will be wearing them for the next five months!
The 5-Hour Wedding
American weddings are nothing compared to Ghanaian weddings. I arrived at the bride’s house around 8:30am the morning of the wedding. She was dressed in a white fitted dress with sequent flower designs while the groom wore a navy suit. There was a church service before the wedding that lasted 3 hours then the Ghanaian ceremony lasted about 2 hours I think. I am not entirely sure when one started and the other began. They exchanged traditional vows at the very end but other than that everything seemed different. There was drumming, singing and dancing. I sat outside the church under a canopy with loads of other people whom I felt could care less about the service. There were children rolling around on the ground and some lady snoring in the back. A kid next to me took the safety pin off his flower and stabbed it in his hand, stared at it for a while and then laughed hysterically for ten minutes before removing it. The camera guy was obnoxiously hovering with huge box video camera from the 80’s during the entire service. The service concluded around 2:00pm, but the party wasn’t over yet. Everyone, meaning about 150 people, came over to the bride’s house. Dancing, singing and drumming followed the box lunch meal. Oddly, the bride and groom never cracked a smile. I don’t know the reason, but my theory is that they were just too hot to exert the energy. Regardless, everyone had a fantastic time and left happy.
African Sag
I was told to bring baggy clothes in order to be culturally sensitive. I did as I was told and now I struggle to find clothes to put on in the morning. I now realize the shrinking capacity of the modern dryer. When you wring out the clothes and hang them on the line to dry there is zero shrinkage. With every wash my belongings get a little longer and wider. I have fashioned a rope belt to keep my pants up and now use safety pins to make my v-neck shirts acceptable to wear in public. I should have brought infant clothing, have Christy wash them a few times and they would fit me perfectly.
Get it Girl!
I am a little weakling. I try so hard to wring all the water out my laundry, but every time it is insufficient. Christy comes along behind me and wrings so much water out it seems like I hadn’t done anything. I swear she has incredible hulk hands. She has strong arms too. She beats this big stick thing for hours to make fufu, a local dish. I tried it and lasted 5 minutes. Christy also carries water on her head all the time. I am not sure what muscle has to be strong to do it, but I tried and must not even have that muscle. Christy isn’t the only strong one either. All the women work in the fields too. If I stick around here long enough maybe some day I will be strong too.
My Purpose?
It wasn’t until yesterday, that I really felt like I knew what I was supposed to be doing here. I am working for a volunteer organization called BRIDGE which has assigned me to work with a local community based organization called the Goefe, Agbelefe and Tsrefe Development Organization (GATDO). Goefe, Agbelefe and Tsrefe are three villages forming a collaborative community located just 13km outside Ho, the regional capital city, in the Adaklu district of the Volta region. GATDO aims to reduce poverty, improve standards of education and encourage sustainable development.
At this point, GATDO’s main priority is to enhance the education provided by Goefe Primary School. Large class sizes, limited instruction time and minimal resources have resulted in unacceptable reading, writing and English performance. In order to develop the educational standards necessary for success, the headmaster has suggested the implementation of three free extra classes for all students each week. To pay for this endeavour, previous volunteers with GATDO have proposed the initiation of a community aquaculture farm. Fish sales would theoretically provide money for the classes every year. At this point we don’t have a pond, fish or money to get either of the previously mentioned necessities. It is my job to figure out how to make this happen. I know nothing about fish or Ghana so I have my work cut out for me.
Put to Scale
It took me two solid weeks and a two-hour hike to decide that Ghana is a beautiful country. I live at the base of the Adaklu Mountain, but from my village I rarely acknowledge it. On Saturday this changed. I hiked from my village to Tocor, a village on the other side of the mountain. The dirt road left me filthy and the sun left me torched, but the scenery left me rejuvenated. Lush green trees and grass line the road and small farms spot the landscape. The panoramic view from the mountain reminded me that I am experiencing merely one village in one region of the country. No matter how long I stay in Ghana I will never understand everything about the country and its people. I am not here to change the country. Instead, I am merely here to make a difference in a few lives.
