SARAH'S SUMMER IN GHANA

From Strange to Beautiful

2006-08-14T03:39:00.000-04:00

I want to thank everyone for following along and supporting me every step of the way. On more challenging days, I have looked back at the comments people have written and they’ve motivated me to push on. Thanks to my chapter and all the EWB supporters who truly made my placement possible. Words cannot describe how rewarding this experience has been. Thanks to my friends and family. Distance had definitely made the heart grow fonder. I love you all very much.

This is my last posting from Tamale, Ghana. Over the past three and a half months, Tamale has become more than a sea of indistinguishable dark faces; a flurry of giant trucks whizzing by with men hanging off the sides and colourful taxis honking their horns; bicyclists passing by with tv’s, lumber, other goods attached to their bikes; herds of sheep (or are they goats?) crossing a busy intersection; an overwhelming jumble of unusual sights and sounds and smells. Tamale is my home.

It took me a while to get here, but I love it. I love the city, the people, the culture. I will miss it all very much. Things have transformed from being strange and foreign, to familiar and comforting. The echoing calls of the Muslim prayers tell me the time of day. I know just where to step to avoid open gutters (most of the time!). When I return home from work and walk through my neighbourhood, I’m greeted with shouts of “Madam Sarah! Madam Sarah!”. The voices of the women in my compound who have already started a day of hard work, calm me as I wake.

My compound

I have tried to follow along with the experiences of the other JFs. I have read some of their blog entries. And I’ve realized that there’s so much more to experience. My experience, as full and vibrant as it’s been, is still only the slightest sliver of what Ghana has to offer. I truly hope that I will have the opportunity to return, but for now I’m trying to treasure the time I’ve had and the wonderful people I’ve met.

And so the time to look to the future and preparing for my return to Canada has arrived. I’ve been trying to write a posting on what I’ve learned about development. But I feel my most valuable lessons are not just development related, but important lessons in life.

In development work, there is no right answer, no quick fix. Some development efforts have used this approach and the results are unsustainability and negative attitudes. Each project must be carefully thought out, the end goal clearly defined, and the steps by which to get there should be verified to ensure they will achieve the desired result. If not, unforeseen consequences will arise and goals will not be met.

My family

Development, just like life, is complicated. So many factors intertwine and things that seemed small and insignificant can become insurmountable obstacles. The role of Westerners in development is another issue. I think everyone can develop their own opinion on this, but one thing I have realized is that the line between a better, more efficient and effective way of doing something and simply a cultural difference can be blurry. I think if you approach development with an open mind, a willingness to learn, and a respect for different ways of doing things, you will naturally find the right path.

And so I hope to return to Canada with not only a greater appreciation for what I happened to be born into, but a more thoughtful approach to life. I want to really consider the effects of my actions, and the choices I make. I want to give more thought to who or what I’m supporting by the products I purchase, the beliefs I’m supporting with my political choices, the effects of my daily life on the environment. And so there is still so much that can be done! I think that our actions in Canada have the potential for greater impact and the elimination of poverty than overseas work. So perhaps this isn’t the end, but only the beginning.

Wise Was Right

2006-08-08T03:38:00.000-04:00

The longer I'm here, the more challenging it becomes to think of interesting blog topics. Things that I once found intriguing, amusing, or astonishing are now part of my everyday life. So what if there's a herd of sheep walking right through the main intersection?

After reviewing our six district visits, Luke and I decided it would be best to visit two more. So last week we set out one last time. Upon reaching the district where Luke would be staying, I also alighted to catch a different tro-tro to my destination. After being mis-directed to the tro-tro station twicew, the tro-tro going my way happened to drive by. I hopped on thinking it was my lucky break!

We soon stopped at the actual tro-tro yard. I should have realized that considering I was one of only four passengers on a tro-tro designed for (read: capable of squeezing in like sardines) 39 people, that I would be waiting for a while. There was no point in asking when we'd be leaving. The answer is quite obvious - when the tro-tro's full, of course!

Three hours later, we were on our way! After waiting for an hour to meet with the person I'd come to see, I completed my day's work quickly. So I decided to explore the town. I wandered down the road to town, greeting people and admiring the quiet calm of a small town. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw a speeding vehicle coming straight towards me! The bike's owner quickly introduced himself as Ishmael, a teacher in town and an electrical engineers graduate from Tamale Polytechnic. He was a friendly guy with a smiling face, small stature, and navy baseball cap. He showed me around town (well, the one road and handfull of shops) explaining the history, geography, and religion of the town. We passed by and greeted his sister and her small baby. She welcomed me to the town and was concerned if I had somewhere to stay and if the accomodation was alright. We continued our walk for another half an hour until we reached my guest house, where we parted ways. It was an enjoyable afternoon.

RILADEP Guest House in Saboba

After completing the district analysis, I was ready to head back to Tamale. But there was no means. No means? The lorry to Tamale leaves only in the morning. Oh, no means. You see how we suffer? Yes, I see. So I stayed an extra night, waking early to catch the first (and perhaps only?) tro-tro. I walked along the unlit dirt road, hoping that the directions to the lorry station I had received were correct.

I arrived at the centre of town - night still casting its shadow, people only just starting to stir - the women starting fires for cooking, the men heading to the mosque for morning prayer. No one else seemed to be waiting for a tro-tro so I began to worry. Finally, a man carrying a suitcase appeared across the street. I stepped over the open sewer to cross the road to inquire about the tro-tro. I asked the man if he was waiting for the 5am lorry. He said yes. Phew! I was in the right place! Iwent to step off the street and take a seat on the bench to wait. Ooops! Suddenly I was a foot and a half lower, off-balance, my backpack lopsided, my spectacles askew, and utterly bewildered!! My right foot was in the gutter! I had completely forgotten about the open gutter I had just crossed. Luckily, thie one wasn't full or very gucky at all. With just a dirty sandal and a bruised ego, I moved to the bench to wait for the tro-tro.

Really Eating Like a Ghanaian

2006-08-01T16:31:00.001-04:00

So, I’ve been promising a blog on Ghanaian food for a while now. I’ve been putting it off though because I’ve wanted to take photos of my meals, but that’s a pretty strange thing to do, even for a saliminga! But I now have a few pics to show you some of the things I’ve been eating for the past few months.

Starch dishes are staple foods in many cultures. In Ghana, traditional meals include some type of starch dish made from maize, millet or cassava eaten with a soup or stew. The four main starch dishes are TZ, fufu, banku and kenkey.

TZ is a common dish for large families in Northern Ghana. My family has it almost every night – in my two and a half months here we’ve had something other than TZ only 4 times! TZ is made from maize flour. A porridge type substance is brewed using maize flour and water in a large pot. This is cooked for a while before it is reduced. The thicker substance is stirred with a gigantic wooden spoon, folding it over in the pot. The liquid taken off from reducing is slowly re-added to the mixture, along with more maize flour and my family adds cassava flour as well. TZ can also be made from millet and when I stayed in the village this is the type of TZ they served. The texture is hard to describe. It’s kind of like bread dough with not much taste. It’s the soup or stew that accompanies the TZ that really provides the flavour.

Adding maize flour to make TZ

Fufu is gooier and you can roll it into a ball before dipping it into the soup. It’s almost like thicker whipped mashed potatoes. Banku and kenkey are both fermented dishes made from maize and are stickier and more solid. I have yet to see these made since my family has had banku and fufu only once and hasn’t served kenkey since I’ve been here.

There are many soups to accompany the TZ, fufu or banku including groundnut, fresh okru, dried okru, bura, vegetable. Kenkey is usually served with a pepper sauce. In the soups, there might be some bits of meat in the soup or a chunk in the bowl. Meat is more expensive so my family rarely serves large chunks in the soup. Some of it is pretty tough as well, and there have been times when I’ve almost flung the chunk across the compound when trying to bite off a piece!

The groundnut soup is made with water and groundnut oil, boiled in a pot over a coal stove. My family adds different spices, and Maggie cubes which are packets of shrimp flavoured powder.

Adding the Maggie cube to the groundnut soup

To eat a meal like this you take a chunk of TZ with the fingers of your right hand, scoop some soup and put it into your mouth. With the other starch dishes you can play with it in your hand to roll it into a ball before dipping in the soup.

My usual TZ dinner

Maybe not as traditional, but definitely common are rice dishes. Rice is a common Ghanaian crop, although many people purchase imported rice (American, Thai, Vietnamese). Many Ghanaian rice farmers don’t have access to processing machines that can provide a higher quality of rice, and they aren’t provided with large subsidies to grow the crop like American rice farmers.

Tonight's dinner - rice ball and groundnut soup

Similar to the four dishes described above are rice balls, which like the name suggests is a ball of rice. This is also served with a soup into which you dip a chunk of rice. Another common dish is plain rice served with spicy pepper sauce and often a piece of chicken. Another rice dish is watche, which is rice with beans cooked in a purple leaf so it comes out a mauve-ish colour. One of my favourites is joloff rice, which is rice cooked in a pot of water with pepper and tomato.

Joloff rice with salad and a boiled egg

(my favourite meal!)

Along the side of the road you can also find boiled eggs (both chicken and guinea fowl), fried egg sandwiches (usually found in the morning for breakfast and in the evening for a late-night snack), grilled maize, kose (fried bean paste – really tasty!), wageshi (fried cheese). You can also find lots of fresh foods – bananas, pineapple, mangoes, watermelon, coconut, avocado, cabbage, carrots, oranges, apples (imported from Europe).

You can find some type of bread practically everywhere. In Ghana there are three types of bread – butter bread, sugar bread and tea bread. The butter bread looks like a loaf of white bread from the grocery store - very square and very white. The texture is similar to a loaf of white bread from home but it seems to lack any sort of taste. The sugar bread is, as the name implies, sweet. It looks like a loaf of white bread from a bakery. I like this type of bread initially but it really is quite sweet (even for my sweet tooth!). Tea bread looks more like a baguette. I remember that at first it didn’t taste at all like a baguette, but now I forget what a baguette tastes like and I enjoy tea bread with tea in the morning for breakfast. If I'm not having bread and tea, or an egg sandwich for breakfast there is also coco, a smooth porridge made from maize or millet, oats and rice water.

Also available on the street for lunch or dinner are fried yams - yams cut into chunky strips and deep fried. They taste similar to thickly cut french fries. They are often served with pepper stew or another more oily fish soup. You can also get boiled or grilled yams as well.

Along the road you can also easily find kebabs of some type of meat. Intestine is often available, but I have yet to try it! Goat, cow, chicken and guinea fowl are the most common meats available. I have yet to see pork being served, but with such high population of muslims I doubt there is much available.

Some of the dishes took a little getting used to, but I've found my favourites and am now enjoying Ghanaian cuisine!

It's More Like Shades of Brown

2006-07-25T03:28:00.000-04:00

Four weeks. I can’t believe there are only four weeks left. Looking back on the past two and a half months, I’ve had my ups and downs. There have been moments when I’ve been frustrated with cultural differences, annoyed by the constant attention, disgusted by the sanitation facilities (or lack thereof), and really really homesick. There have been times when I’ve been breath taken by the natural beauty around me, impressed by the genuine care and concern of people I’ve met, mesmerized by the fascinating culture, and savouring every moment I have here.

I keep a list of all the things that I would like to write about. The list is long and I have barely made a dent in it. There are many aspects of my experience that I have yet to mention. Also, my experience is just a very brief glimpse of life in Tamale, never mind life in Ghana or life in Africa.

In project-related news, I completed our final district analysis last week while Luke finally took some time off and trekked up to Mali. So now our mission is to figure out what all this information we’ve been collecting actually means! From the district analyses we hope to identify general areas in which capacity building activities would be beneficial to the District Water and Sanitation Teams (DWSTs). The next step will be to do a more detailed analysis with one pilot district, working alongside the DWSTs to identify district specific areas in which to build capacity, tailoring a program to suit the team’s needs. And then after developing a capacity building program, we will implement it in the pilot district. This work will likely be carried out by Luke, who will be in Ghana until December (at least!). It’s been very rewarding to have completed one phase of the project and beginning to see the shape it might take in the future.

A few weekends ago, we had a mid-summer retreat. We discussed what we’d done so far – the challenges and successes we’d each had, and what we planned to do for the remainder of our placement. These exercises were useful for sharing ideas and approaches, as well as for organizing the hundreds of thoughts zooming around in my head into a realistic work plan. It was also extremely motivating to hear about all the small successes that all the volunteers have had, and realizing the effect of the summation of each of these seemingly tiny contributions.

Out of the three-day retreat we had one day for pure relaxation and fun. We chartered a tro-tro and headed 4 hours south to Kintampo. Kintampo is famous for the Kintampo Falls just outside the town. However, we first headed to the lesser known Fuller Falls. It was like discovering a secret garden – a rocky staircase leading down to a secluded area with low stone walls separating little stone sitting areas, under the canopy of towering trees, with the sounds of rushing water loudening as you approached. The staircase falls look like they were perfectly carved out of the earth. We spent several hours there, swimming at the base, climbing up the rocky steps of the falls, and generally just enjoying the beautiful scenery and each other’s company.

Fuller Falls

The Secret Garden

Kintampo Falls

Two weeks ago, I was in the East Gonja District for another district analysis. I borrowed a bicycle and rode to the neighbouring community to buy some bread. At the small kiosk where they sold the bread, I had an intriguing conversation with a 46 year old man named Mohammed. He asked if I had a husband. I said no. “I will take you as my second wife,” he said. I said I was flattered but not looking for a husband. “You would not marry a black man?” he asked. I replied that I didn’t care what colour he was, I just wasn’t here to look for a husband. I then tried to explain how my parents are different races, but to no avail. “They are both white,” he said. “Oh. How many different races are there?” I asked. “Two,” he replied, “black and white.”

Now this is just Mohammed’s view and the young men around us found it highly amusing, but I have heard similar beliefs before. There are blacks and then there’s everyone else. Africa and the rest of the world. Growing up in a multicultural society, I’ve always been aware of different races but not overly concerned with race. Growing up in a small rural community here, where possibly the only foreigners you see are white people driving by in white SUVs or white people in nice clothes posing for photos with the new hand pump they paid for, your view of other races would likely be significantly different.

Conversations like this really make me think. Who’s right? Why does he think that? Is it my responsibility to rectify misconceptions about “white” people in general? Is it other people’s responsibility to be open-minded?

And my usual answer is, “Is there an answer?”.

In Someone Else's More Practical Shoes

2006-07-17T03:57:00.000-04:00

It’s Saturday morning and I finally rouse myself from bed around 7am. The morning prayer from the neighbouring mosque no longer disturbs my sleep. (Well, if it does I don’t have any recollection). The sky is grey and somber; it might saa today. On mornings like this my bucket bath doesn’t quite have the same refreshing relief from the heat. I have goosebumps! Despite the chilly weather and threat of rains, I head out towards town to meet Marka, a JF from MacMaster, and Gwen, a new LTOV, to go fabric shopping.

Clothing here is usually one of two styles: traditional brightly coloured prints made into long skirts and fitted tops for the women, or Western-style clothing, some new and some from thrift stores now for sale in Ghana. (I’ve spotted a boy wearing an Oilers jersey, another wearing a Team Canada jersey, and a man wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a middle-aged white woman with the caption “Look who’s 50!”; so if you’ve ever wondered where the third-hand clothes from home go, my guess is here).

This is a photo of Okaps, a DWST (District Water and Sanitation Team Member) who I have worked with, and me in one of my traditional Ghanaian outfits.

Back to the beautiful fabrics. There are cloth vendors up and down the main street, so we start there. The rain gods have a different idea and the sky now delivers on its threat. We take shelter in one shop, where the woman kindly offers us seats to wait out the rain. We wait and wait, but the rains are not letting up. All I can think of is how much I have been looking forward to browsing the fabric shops along the road and in the market. And now we are stuck in a store, trapped by the rain.

But then I start to think of what the rain means to other people. To me it has delayed a day of shopping. For many others, it means much much more. Although it is the rainy season, we have not seen much rain in the past few weeks. The farmers rely on the rains to water their crops. Here in the Northern Region, there is only one rainy season whereas in the south there are two. So the rains must come or there won’t be any crops to sell or to eat. And not only must the rains come, they must come at the right time. The farmers plant their seeds and pray for the rains to come soon so the seeds will germinate. If the rains come a few days too late, the seeds will be wasted and the farmers must plant again. When farming is your livelihood, the unpredictability of the weather makes you extremely vulnerable.

The rain continued for most of the day, putting a damper on my day of shopping but providing life to both the crops and the people they will feed. Oh well, there's always next weekend to go shopping!

Canada Day...Ghanaian Style!

2006-07-02T17:36:00.000-04:00

Work-wise, this past week has mainly been spent learning more about Ghana’s water and sanitation sector and refining the district analysis tools. This coming week Luke and I will be heading out two districts to complete assessments of current capacities of the DWSTs.

On Thursday, we attended a workshop introducing the new database system that the CWSA will be implementing at the district level to manage water and sanitation coverage and monitoring information. Effectively managing data, such as the number of household latrines in a community and the functionality of borehole pumps, is essential to plan for future development, as well as for striving to achieve the UN Millennium Development Goals. (One of which aims to halve the number of people without access to potable water). The CWSA Head Office has been introducing this system at the Regional Level with the aim of it being used by the DWSTs to manage district data.

As we sat around the table alongside key figures in Ghana’s water and sanitation sector, members of the RWSTs (Regional Water and Sanitation Teams) from the three Northern Regions critiqued the system and suggested changes that should be implemented to make the system more effective. It was quite a significant meeting for the CWSA, with substantial changes being made to the system that will eventually be put into place nationwide. To be in the room where such momentous decisions were being made was quite an experience.

Many other data management systems have been implemented in districts across Ghana. Unfortunately, none of these have proved very effective or long-lasting. Many of them are linked to an externally funded project and collapse after the project concludes and the donor withdraws funding. It seems that effort is being made to learn from past mistakes and incorporate suggestions from levels closer to the ground to help ensure effectiveness and sustainability. From what I have witnessed at the district level so far, the full implementation of this system is a long way off but, hopefully when the times comes, it does its job and doesn’t become another addition to the database graveyard.

As everyone back home was celebrating Canada’s 139^th birthday this past weekend, there were 11 Canadians on the other side of the world celebrating just the same! Five JFs came in to Tamale from their districts and along with those of us based in Tamale, we tro-tro-ed it just outside the city to celebrate Canada Day – we went camping!

The trip started Saturday morning when we were to meet up with a guy who was lending us tents. The meeting time was 9am…10 am rolled around and no tents. With the easy-going Ghanaian attitude, we shrugged our shoulders and went to find a tro-tro. Fortunately, three Ghanaians were being honorary Canadians and taking part in our Canada Day festivities. With their help, we located the correct tro-tro and climbed aboard. The blue van was your typical tro-tro. It had a name like “Still Except God” in colourful letters on the back window. The inside was stripped down to the metal shell with extra seats added, including a wooden bench behind the front seats for people to sit on facing backwards. We packed 20 people into a mini-van-sized vehicle, with cargo up on the roof. We lurched forward, backfiring our way down the road.

When we reached our destination, we went into the community to greet the chief, who was allowing us to camp on his land. He was out farming, as we had just had heavy rains the night before, so we greeted another village elder and offered the traditional gift of kola nuts. We camped out near the local school, right by the football pitch. We attracted quite a lot of attention from the village children and soon a football match, Canada vs. Ghana, was underway.

Later on, we started a campfire and roasted some hot dogs. This probably sounds completely normal to everyone back home, but finding hot dogs in Tamale was almost the highlight of the entire weekend! The children were still around and had slowly formed a tight circle around us, with the fire in the centre. Turning around, it was an eerie image of tens of children standing over you illuminated by the fire. We were visitors in their community, intriguing foreign visitors at that, but we had to eventually ask them to step back as the circle was becoming a little suffocating.

We all enjoyed our brief return to almost Canadian life. It’s always refreshing to get together with the other JFs and share our experiences, both good and bad. It’s hard to believe that I’ve only known most of them for barely 2 months! We closed out the night with the patriotic singing of the national anthem. We hit the sack with satisfied tummies, ready to return to our Ghanaian lives the next day.

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I have been collecting small anecdotes in my journal. Here are a few:

Being a female Westerner, you attract quite a lot of attention from male Ghanaians. It’s commonplace to be told that you’re beautiful, to receive multiple marriage proposals and even exclamations of love as you walk along the street. This is the best I’ve received so far: When speaking with an older man who expressed interest in having me as his second wife (meaning wife #2 – polygamy is common in rural areas), he exclaimed, “I don’t love you because of your breasts…I love you because you’re white!” Oh…ok.

The currency in Ghana is the cedis. It has been heavily devalued and inflation is a concern. Currently, it’s at about 8000 cedis per $1 CDN. When I withdraw money from the bank machine the wad is so thick it doesn’t fit in my wallet! Also, to demonstrate the dual economy here, you can easily purchase lunch from a street vendor for under 3000 cedis. If you eat at a hotel or “white” restaurant the prices for the same foods will be in the 30 000- 60 000 cedis range!!

Not many foreigners reach Northern Ghana, explaining the attention and excitement when I go anywhere. But for some reason, more people here pick up on my asian heritage than people in Canada. Countless times I’ve heard “China!” been called my way. I’ve even been asked if I know karate. (I said that yes I did know karate, it’s a genetic trait). I had heard that Ghanaians often clump all Westerners together and classify them as “white” no matter if you’re blue, green or purple. But apparently, many Ghanaians are quite adept at identifying subtle racial differences.

The overwhelming majority of people that I interact with everyday are black. My compound doesn’t have a bathroom sink never mind a mirror, so I rarely see my own reflection. So sometimes I forget that I’m not actually black like everyone else. I am quickly reminded though, when my bright white legs peek out from under my skirt, or I’m walking at night and my glowing skin is the only thing I can see!

I have been struck by the caring, maternal nature of everyone here. Children, both boys and girls, look after their baby siblings with such tenderness and skill. Although generally the men don’t participate in many domestic activities (gender roles are a whole other can of worms!), I have seen fathers care for their young children with visible gentleness and emotion. Family is seen as extremely important and having children almost the purpose of life. Whether such large families are responsible when living in or close to poverty I can’t say, but the care that many people display for their children is heartwarming. (This is not meant to be a contrast to family life in Canada, just an observation of Ghanaian culture. )

Not so heartwarming is the reception that I receive from some small children. There seems to be a certain age when Ghanaian children are naturally blood-curdling-ly terrified of “white” people. They will exhibit one of two reactions: petrified shock – fear seizes their joints and they freeze as if someone pressed the pause button, or screaming in absolute terror for someone to hide this ghastly thing. It can be amusing – the game hide-and-seek takes on a whole new dimension! But it’s also heart-breaking for a child to be terrified at the very sight of you. Here is an image of a baby I had just made cry, turning away to avoid looking at me!

This summer my senses have been bombarded with new experiences. My head is full of lessons learned and fresh perspectives. I try to share as much of this experience through my blog, but I realize that there are more things that I am omitting than including. So to fill in these gaps (and for some interactive fun) please post any questions that you would like to ask a Ghanaian. It can be about anything – dating, football, education, whatever! Ben, a fellow JF here in Tamale, tried this on his blog and found it worked really well, involving and engaging people on both sides of the ocean! So start posting and I’ll start asking!!

Field Work & Football

2006-06-28T13:35:00.000-04:00

This past week, Luke and I began our first district analysis. We are planning on analyzing the current capacities of the District Water and Sanitation Team(DWST), and the current methodologies used by the DWST and other people at the district level, such as the District Chief Executive, the District Coordinating Director and the District Planning Officer. From these evaluations, we will determine in which areas it would be beneficial to build capacity and what type of program would be most effective. So, we left Tamale to spend four days in the capital of a nearby district.

On the first day, we spoke with the DWST about the challenges they face, how they collect information about the water sources in their district, and what (if any) database system they use to store and organize this data. After a long and informative conversation with the extremely knowledgeable team leader, two of the DWSTs took us to the District Assembly(DA) guest house. It felt like a five star resort, with a flushing toilet and a shower!

The following day we accompanied two of the DWSTs out to the field to monitor boreholes, household latrines and a small town water system. Sitting on the back of the motorbike with the sunshine warming my skin and the fresh breeze keeping me cool, I was mesmerized by the practically untouched natural beauty of the rolling hills lush with deep green vegetation.

Once we reached the intended small community, we observed as the DWSTs went about a typical monitoring visit. First, they greeted the village chief and explained why we were here. At the borehole, the DWSTs inspected the cleanliness of the concrete pad surrounding the borehole and the tightness of the bolts of the pump. They gave the pump a try to check the flow of the water. We took a tour of one household to monitor hygiene practices – if the drinking water was covered and kept separate from the water for domestic use.

Helen and me with a newly installed borehole hand pump.

Rufia and me inspecting the construction of a household latrine.

Luke “Space Ranger” Brown – to avoid being “grossly negligent” we EWBers wear snazzy head protection when riding motorbikes.

That night neither Luke nor I was hungry so we didn’t venture out until later to find a bite to eat. The guest house was on the main road, but at the edge of town so we had to walk a ways to find some street vendors. There were no street lights (or if there were they weren’t on), so we walked in the dark accompanied by lively music echoing through the darkness. It can be near impossible to see Ghanaians in the dark and so occasionally when a truck would pass, the lights would eerily illuminate dark figures moving slowly in the night. As creepy as that seemed, I can’t imagine how spine-tingling it would be to see two ghostly figures approaching, seemingly glowing in the shadows!

On the third morning, I woke up not feeling so well. My body was achy, which I thought might have been from the bed even though it was better than the one I usually sleep on (mattresses in Ghana are usually pieces of foam). The aches intensified, I had a crushing headache and my stomach was upset…both ways. I stayed in bed the whole day, only venturing out when one of the DWSTs took me to the local hospital to get checked out. The diagnosis was malaria and I started popping the treatment pills that night.

An interesting note about the strong hierarchical influence in Ghana (or I guess it could show the high prevalence of malaria here): I was really not feeling too hot during our journey to and from the hospital. The DWST even told me I looked “rundown” (initially I thought he was talking about the hospital…oops!). But on our way back to the guest house, we stopped twice to have lengthy conversations with two of the higher ups at the District Assembly not only to update them on my condition but also to chat about what they were doing and where they were going. Greeting people is very important here and paying respect to superiors is even more so.

Without a lab test to verify the diagnosis, I’ll never be entirely sure if it was malaria. But malaria is a definite reality here. In Africa, over 2.5 million people die each year because of it. Most of these are children. The heartbreaking part is that malaria is completely treatable. Treatment to cure the disease costs about $5. Seriously. Preventative measures such as sleeping under a mosquito net can also drastically reduce the deaths due to malaria. Bed nets are also ridiculously inexpensive (in our terms). As I was already taking anti-malarial medication, my case was probably a reduced version of what malaria can be. I cannot imagine enduring that discomfort with no hope of affording those twelve little pills and knowing you may not survive.

During the last two days of our visit, Luke spoke with many other stakeholders in the water and sanitation sector at the district level. Our first district analysis was extremely enlightening about issues at the district level that we, working out of the regional office, were not aware of. We also were able to test out our methods of analysis, which try to ensure we are seeing the whole, true picture.

When we returned to Tamale, Ghana’s third match of the World Cup was almost underway. I missed the first game, against Italy, when I was in Manga. Watching the second game, against the Czech Republic, on the streets of Tamale was quite an experience! After each goal, people jumped up, waved flags, picked up chairs and ran around screaming! At the end of the game spontaneous parades were formed, people were dancing in the street, every car was honking its horn (more than usual!) and flags were being flown from motorbikes racing (and swerving dangerously) down the main street!! A constant cheer was audible from across the city. The third game, against the US, I followed from the two cheers and groan that I heard from my bed as the effects of malaria slowly wore off.

So yesterday was the start of the next round for the Black Stars. Here is a before picture of Luke and me decked out in our Ghanaian flags, all ready to cheer on our newly adopted favourite for our newly adopted favourite football team:

And here is an after picture:

Next time, Ghana, next time!

The Village of Manga

2006-06-18T14:34:00.000-04:00

On Monday, I left my homebase of Tamale and headed to a nearby district to experience village life for 3 days. In the district capital, I met a member of the District Water and Sanitation Team (a DWST) who arranged the stay and would be taking me to the small community. When we were ready to go, the DWST handed me a helmet (embarrassing photo included below) – this would be my first motorbike ride! I rode on the back, enjoying the breeze and the natural beauty of rural Ghana.

We turned off the paved road onto a dirt road. We turned off the dirt road onto a dirt path. We weaved our way around rocks and deep grooves. Finally, a cluster of mud huts was visible in the distance. A community of approximately 400, Manga has no running water or electricity, and almost the entire community relies on farming for a living. After dismounting, I must have made a goofy first impression – first of all being “white” made me strange looking, I was still wearing the helmet as I struggled to get it off, and I’m sure the fanny pack didn’t help!

The chief and the men of the village gathered to greet me. We sat on log benches under a thatched canopy, shading us from the unforgiving midday sun. I gave the chief the traditional offering of kola nuts. He accepted them and welcomed me to the village. The village children started to gather to get a glimpse of this “strange creature” that had just arrived. I was introduced to Nicholas, the village's Water and Sanitation Committee (WATSAN) Secretary. Thank goodness Nicholas spoke fairly good English! I’ve been spoiled in Tamale, where most people speak quite a bit of English. Nicholas showed me where I’d be staying – I was displacing one of his sons for a few nights. I was glad to have my own room – after just a brief time in the village I could tell that I would be the village’s main attraction my entire stay!

The first day I wandered around the village and greeted people. Whatever Manga is lacking in modern convenience, it makes up for in natural beauty. It is set amongst rolling hills, green and lush, filled with life. Darkness fell quickly, so much so that it seemingly interrupted people’s day. But everyone carried on. Lanterns were lit and we ate by moonlight.

First thing the next morning, I met with the men of village. There would have to be two separate meetings – one for the men and one for the women, as it’s not customarily appropriate for both genders to be present at a meeting. I said that I was there to learn about life in a village. They commended me on coming to Manga and one man said, “You have come straight from Canada to Manga, but when will a Manga man ever go to Canada!” I asked them some questions about the water and sanitation facilities, as well as about their feelings about their relationship with the district authorities. My village stay was not only a chance for me to live like the majority of Ghanaians, but a valuable opportunity to learn more about the concerns and challenges they face. Hopefully, Luke and I will address some of these concerns through our project, working to improve capacities at the district level.

That afternoon, Nicholas took me to his farm, where his family had been working all day. After having just planted his maize the day before, today they were planting millet. His son would walk down the rows, creating holes. His two daughter would follow with bowls of millet seeds, dropping a pinch into each hole and deftly kicking dirt to cover the seeds. Nicholas also grows yams, pepper and cotton.

Later on, I sat with the old women in the centre of the compound and shelled shea nuts. The women collect the shea fruit from the trees, remove the fruit surrounding the nut. The nut is then boiled and shelled, and sent to the man in the village with the machine to process the nuts into oil and butter. The smell of shea nuts filled the air and we quietly sat there, shelling nut after nut until the pile was gone.

That evening, I met with the women. I again explained my presence in the village and was warmly welcomed and thanked for visiting. I asked them the same questions I had earlier that day to the men. The gender roles here are quite different than at home. It can be a very strange experience here as a “white” female. Generally, white trumps black and man trumps woman. So being a “white” woman is a curious existence. I’m not yet sure where I fit in the social hierarchy.

The men and women shared similar concerns. Without a proper road to Manga, what would they do if someone was ill and needed transport to the hospital? And the nearest hospital was a 6 hour walk away. There were several bicycles in the village, but only 1 motorbike. Manga had just been given its own school a year ago, but without a proper building and adequate resources, it was struggling. Many people expressed interest in learning new skills, but there was nowhere to go to learn and no one to teach them. Some people rented tractors from a neighbouring village, but others ploughed using bullocks or by hand. Tractors would help them prepare the fields for planting much more efficiently. But with the vulnerability of crop failure resulting in a loss of yearly income and a shortage of food, the expense of a tractor was unrealistic.

The 3 days passed quickly and soon I was packing my things and saying farewell to Manga. After I expressed my appreciation for the village’s hospitality, the chief thanked me for coming to Manga and presented me with a goat! (That’s a step up from my chicken!) I wasn’t certain if I was expected to take the goat back with me on the motorbike, but the goat was tied up and secured to the back of the motorbike before I knew it!

Driving into Tamale, I felt like I was returning home. However, it occurred to me that even if I considered Tamale to be my home, the people here would never view it as being my home. There would always be someone who didn’t know me, and would call me “white!” or “saliminga!”. Because of my skin colour, I doubt I could ever be fully Ghanaian. It’s a bizarre feeling being treated differently due to the colour of my skin - a phenomenon I thought was mainly a thing of the past. The attention is generally positive and people want to be your friend simply from your appearance. I forget that Canada is fairly unique in its multiculturalism (although racism still exists as well) and that there are places in the world where people have never seen people who look different than themselves.

The other day, while walking home from work a man on a bike came up beside me. We started with small talk. He said he wanted to be my friend. He said he likes white people. We encountered a language barrier when I said that was not a wise thing to do, not all white people are nice just like all black people aren’t nice. I don’t think he comprehended what I was trying to explain, but it’s comments like that that both surprise and worry me.

Anyways, back to the goat. Back at the office, I decided to give the goat to the driver, who had kindly driven me to and picked me up from the district. But he did not take it home and instead left it to graze just outside the office. The next day, the goat was still there. I wasn’t sure if anyone was going to claim the goat or it was going to become the new office mascot. Before I left that day, I took some photos of my very first goat and made sure it had water.

The following morning, as I approached the office I could hear a commotion at the side of the building. I peeked around the corner to see what was going on. I caught a glimpse of a piece of gleaming metal in someone’s raised hand and I knew. My goat was no more. Purchasing meat from the supermarket, it’s very easy to forget where it comes from. Here, people are not as removed from the land that yields their crops and the animals that are sacrificed.

Please let me know if there’s anything that I’ve been neglecting to describe or write about. It’s difficult to know if I’m painting a full and fair picture of what I’m experiencing. So if you think I’m missing anything, please post a comment!

A Day in the Life...

2006-06-11T11:09:00.000-04:00

Every morning I am woken by the sunrise prayer broadcast over the loudspeaker of the mosque next door. It is quite loud (I am convinced they relocate the loudspeaker and point it directly into my room) and it certainly eliminates the possibility of sleeping in, but this hauntingly melodic prayer is a beautiful daily reminder of this intriguing new culture of which I am now a part.

I then remain in bed for another hour or so, dozing and listening to the daily activities starting up around me. The household awakens and the usual cooking, water fetching and school uniform ironing begins. My compound has two noise levels – silent and loud. The morning prayer breaks the silence of the night and flips the noise switch to loud. Pots clang, children chatter, sheep baa, roosters crow, women bicker. When I don’t manage to go back to sleep, I listen to all this activity and think about how different this is than my usual morning routine in

Canada

Once I decide that it’s now a reasonable time to get out of bed, usually around 6:30am, I emerge from my room and do the morning greetings with my Ghanaian family. “Dasiba!” they all say. “Naa,” I respond. This is followed by other traditional greetings, usually with a response of “Naa,” (when in doubt, respond “Naa,”) . I collect a bucket of water and head to the toilet.

Tamale has not had consistent running water for months. The taps are on in certain areas of the city on certain days. My compound has a large concrete reservoir that is filled when the taps are on. The reservoir has been completely used up only once since I’ve been here and usually women from surrounding areas come to our compound to fetch water. So with no running water, the toilet doesn’t flush. After I’ve done my business, I pour the bucket into the toilet to “flush” it. Some of the volunteers don’t have the luxury of a toilet or even a latrine. So I cherish my toilet, despite my initial recoil from the smell and its crude outhouse appearance. I return to the reservoir for a second bucket – this will be my shower.

I’ve come to enjoy bucket baths. The fan in my room is currently broken (or “spoiled” as they would say here) and it’s quite warm and stuffy in there when I wake up. Pouring cool water over yourself after a sweaty sleep is extremely refreshing. It also uses a minimal amount of water. When you have to fetch the water yourself, you really appreciate the amount that you use. And I am quite fortunate to have a reservoir right in my compound and not have to trek to the local borehole, well or other water source. I am now down to half a bucket to wash myself including my hair. I don’t know whether this means I am becoming a more efficient bucket bather or I’m just not clean!

The next order of business is to find something appropriate to wear to work. Ghanaians take a lot of pride in their attire. The clothes may not be expensive, or even the correct size, but they will be clean, ironed and extremely presentable. So often I have to iron my outfit for that day. When I first asked if there was an iron I could use, they were surprised to discover that I could in fact iron. I have encountered this several times here – people seem surprised or amused when I do anything for myself involving physical activity, such as fetching water, washing my clothes, walking to work. And admittedly, I don’t do many of these things at home – I get water from the taps, use a washing machine, take the bus to school. Apparently, some people here believe that white people, or Westerners (all Westerners are considered white), don’t do any medial task themselves.

I then say goodbye to my family and head to work. I walk the same route everyday, twice a day and yet the children are as excited to see me now as they were when I first arrived. It’s sort of a game, they shout “hello! hello!” until the “saliminga” (white person) responds. It’s quite adorable and the friendliness of the people is really quite welcoming. The neighbourhood children have taken to calling me “Madam Sarah,” which is endearing, even if it makes me feel like a 50-year old school marm. But it also means that you have to be “on” all the time. There are no days when you can walk down the street anonymously, no days when the children will ignore you or the adults won’t greet you. The friendliness of the people helps to keep me open and engaged, but there are days when I long for no one to care how I am, what my name is, where I’m from or where I’m going.

I make my way along the main road of Tamale, greeting people as I go. I am passed by people on bicycles and motorbikes carrying schoolchildren, tables, goats, and almost anything else you can think of! I pass women with their headloads full of the goods they will sell at the market. Along the way, I usually stop to purchase pure water, sachets of filtered water safe for drinking, and a loaf of bread. A typical Ghanaian breakfast is tea with bread, and sometimes a fried egg. I quite enjoy it!

I arrive at the CWSA (Community Water and Sanitation Agency) office at 8am and greet the security man at the front gate. Often there are others around and we go through the greetings, with them throwing in a new phrase here and there that I don’t understand. I cross the CWSA compound to the NORWASP building, where Luke and I have a desk. NORWASP (Northern Region Water and Sanitation Project) is one of the 3 current CWSA projects. NORWASP is funded by CIDA (Canadian International Development Agency) and the other 2 projects are funded by the EU (European Union) and AFD (the French Development Agency). Luke and I are working directly for the CWSA and aren’t specifically assigned to any one project. Because of resource constraints, we work out of the NORWASP office.

The hand-dug well assessments that Luke and I have been performing over the last 4 weeks (longer for Luke) are now complete. We visited a total of 7 districts, over 14 communities and over 20 wells, with Luke visiting even more before my arrival. This was a task we had been asked to complete, and not the main purpose of our placement. Hopefully, the information we have gathered will be useful in improving safe water provision as well as helping to increase the trust between the CWSA and ourselves.

After sitting down with Louis Dorval, Director of West Africa Projects, last week, the goals of my placement and the workplan to achieve these goals have become much more refined and focused. This past week we have been talking with various people at the CWSA and other organizations to gain insight into the capacities and challenges at the district (sub-regional) level, where we hope to focus our efforts. This coming week I will be spending 3 days in a rural village, not only to experience typical rural Ghanaian life, but to also learn more about water and sanitation from the people it affects most and the relationship between community and the governing district.

I have to admit that although village life is something I’m eager to experience (and something I think I should experience), I am nervous about entering a world even more different that the one I’m used to.

This past week I had my first encounter with Ghanaian medical facilities. On Monday night while getting ready for bed I noticed I had an abnormally larger bite on my calf. Upon further examination, I discovered that it was not in fact a bite, but the beginning of the craziest rash I’d ever had. It freaked me out because not only did I have no idea what it was, I had no idea what it was from or if it was a sign of something serious. After phoning a few people, I decided to wait until the morning to seek any type of medical attention. I wouldn’t have known who to contact late on a Monday evening anyways – this scared me, made me feel extremely vulnerable and extremely fortunate to live right next to a high quality healthcare facility at home and having 911 to phone in emergencies. I woke up the next morning and the rash was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief and chided myself for panicking so easily. I’d really lived up to the saying that everything is 10 times scarier in Africa – not because it’s necessarily scarier or more dangerous, but because of the unknown factor that so many of us attach to this continent.

Later that day, my rash returned so I decided to see a doctor, if only to ease my mind. I went to the clinic of a Ghanaian doctor, who had trained in Europe. He examined me briefly and said that I needed to start pills and an IV drip immediately. I was taken aback at the serious nature of my condition. He explained what the pills and IV drip were each for. I asked if I could start with the pills and see how that went. I have never required an IV drip and the thought scared me – not because of the stigma of African needles, but because of the serious condition an IV drip implied. The doctor went on to talk about how “you people” don’t trust African doctors and that he wouldn’t prescribe the pills to me because if my condition worsened I would blame him. He talked about how my embassy would become involved and how he would be penalized. I understand what he was saying and I don’t think it was completely unjust. However, he didn’t give me the opportunity to explain why I was resisting full treatment and I resented being referred to as “you people”. His speech did not inspire confidence in his abilities – no matter how unrelated the two things may be. I made an excuse and left the clinic.

I had heard from another EWB volunteer that a Canadian doctor was in town. With my fingers crossed, I stopped by the guest house where I’d been told he was staying. The receptionist led me to the lounge. The doctor was there and kindly agreed to see me. He took one look and said, “Oh, that’s urticaria…also known as hives.” I recounted my experience with the other doctor. The Canadian doctor said that those measures were unnecessary – the rash was not serious and would go away on its own as long as I wasn’t exposed to the allergen that caused the reaction. I don’t know whether I trusted the Canadian doctor because he was Canadian, because of his calm and reassuring manner, or because he did not go off on a rant about racism. But I felt much more at ease as I thanked the doctor and left the hotel.

Later that day, I reflected on my ordeal and how fortunate we are to have world-class healthcare professionals in Canada. But then again, are we fortunate or is that something everyone should have access to?

So, back to my regular day. I usually finish work a little after 5pm. On my way home, I sometimes stop by the internet café to reconnect with the rest of the world. I retrace my steps from the morning, greeting people along the way. This time it’s “Aniuula”, good evening in Dagbani.

My family always welcomes me home enthusiastically. We eat dinner in the centre of the compound. I am given my own bowls. One contains water for washing your right hand. You eat with your right hand only - as I explained before, you left hand is customarily reserved for another, less appetizing task. The second bowl contains TZ, which is ground maize mixed until it's an almost a gelatinous, dense version of mashed potatoes. We have this every night (and I mean every night!). It’s accompanied by some type of soup, into which you dip a ball of TZ. You sort of scoop it out and into your mouth (no matter how hot and it’s usually fresh off the coals). I haven’t quite perfected the technique and so I don’t get as much soup in my scoops as I should.

I always give it my best shot, but the most I’ve ever finished is half the bowl. I don’t feel guilty leaving uneaten food however, because my leftovers are always consumed by someone else. After dinner, I either sit outside with the family, listening and watching or having them teach me new words and phrased in Dagbani, or I retire to my room to write about my day in my journal, read a book, or if I really need a picker-upper I’ll lay down, close my eyes, turn on some music and think of all the wonderful people and things I miss from home.

As promised, here is a pic of my new and improved (??) look:

Your Voice, My Hair

2006-06-04T10:49:00.000-04:00

When I told people what I would be doing for the summer, I sometimes got the response “Good for you! What a noble thing you’re doing!" But my placement is not as selfless as those people think. Four months is not a long time in which to have significant impact on people's lives. I will be learning much more than I am teaching. In Canada, I think that there is greater opportunity to make a difference. The choices we make in Canada directly affect the people here. Quite a few of the development projects in Ghana are funded by the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA). The way in which foreign aid is administered directly affects how these projects are run and the resulting impact on the intended benefactors.

While I’m in Ghana, I will use my voice to try and make small changes that may help communities improve their access to clean drinking water. At home, our voices are much louder and can be used to tell our leaders how we think Canada should act on the global stage. I like to think of Canadians as caring and honest people. I appreciate that wherever I travel, people generally accept me willingly simply because I’m Canadian. But we can’t live on reputation forever. I believe that poverty can be eliminated, but we must work together to eradicate it.

On a lighter note...

After complaining that my long hair was too hot, I finally decided to do something about it. Last Wednesday I asked one of the women in my compound if she could show me where she gets her hair cut. We went to one salon. They would not do it. We went to another. They wouldn’t cut my hair either. I don’t know what the reason was and when I inquired the response was “We are going somewhere else.” Oh, ok. So we ended up in this barbershop hut that only seemed to offer male hairstyles. I was a little concerned, but willing to give it a try. The barber got out his scissors, which looked like ones you would use to cut paper or fabric. He bent over and without actually ever touching my hair he went around my head and cut my hair. The only problem was that since the hut was so small and there were five of us in there he had the fan on. The fan was blowing my hair as he was trying so diligently to get it even all the way around. He took his time and ended up doing a very good job…well, maybe you can decide if it was a good job or not! Photo to come soon!!

Rains and Mole Park

2006-06-04T10:34:00.000-04:00

The rainy season has arrived, along with slightly cooler temperatures (thank goodness!). The storms that I’ve witnessed so far have not disappointed. On Friday, I was heading out from the office and opened the door to ferocious winds violently blowing sand, dirt and anything else not bolted down. I held down my skirt, covered my eyes and started on my way, hoping to make it home before the skies opened up. I made it about 20 meters before huge drops began to fall. Fortunately, one of the CWSA drivers saw me struggling and kindly offered me a ride home. As we drove down the main road, the sky ahead was black and the road obscured by a dark cloud of sand. I made a run for it from the truck to my house, but was completely drenched halfway there. Upon reaching my compound, I found three boys taking cover outside my room. I invited them in and we camped out there for the remainder of the storm. I offered them biscuits and they showed me what they found in the forest…refer to second photo.

Very early yesterday morning, five other JFs and I met at the Tamale bus station to head to Mole National Park, the largest game reserve in Ghana. We had been told that you could only purchase tickets the morning of, but discovered that tickets had been sold in advance and we would only get on if there was room at the end. So we waited. I wasn’t very optimistic judging by the number of people crowded around the bus. But Ghanaians definitely know how to pack people onto a bus! Only a few were left standing on the pavement…unfortunately that included all us JFs! The first mate (someone who accompanies the driver and collects the money) offered Sabrina and I (the only girls) spots at the front, but we were going all together or not at all. So we left in search of alternate transportation.

We headed to the tro-tro yard. I don’t think I’ve explained what a tro-tro is yet. The common definition is anything that’s not a bus or a car, so usually a van-type vehicle, that packs triple the amount of people that you think it can hold plus giant cargo loads on top and perhaps some live animals as well. We located the one heading to Damongo, a town nearby the park, but it was empty. Tro-tros leave when they are full, so it’s always best to catch an almost full one. It was about 6am by this point. The journey could take up to 4 hours (or even more I guess!) and the sun sets by 6pm. We weren’t sure what to do – there was no point in going all the way to Mole only to arrive in the dark and not being able to see anything. So we made the driver a deal, buying an extra seat and a half each if he would leave right away. He accepted and then we were off!

Mole was beautiful with its wide valley covered with lush, deep green vegetation. We went on a guided safari tour and saw quite a few interesting animals. We didn’t, however, get a good look at the elephants – I was so disappointed! The guide told us that they usually go to the watering hole at 7am. We arrived at 11am and did manage to catch a glimpse of them briefly, but we were leaving the next morning by 5am and wouldn’t get another chance. I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to visit Mole and as the rainy season progresses the chance of seeing animals diminishes. But we did see baboons, antelope, waterbuck, monkeys, warthogs and dung beetles!

Finally Photos!

2006-05-27T06:38:00.000-04:00

As promised here are some pictures (in no particular order - it's not cooperating):

My compound

Sahara Desert

Chicken!
Hand-dug Well Assessment

Bus to Tamale

Ghanaianisms

2006-05-27T06:05:00.000-04:00

Thanks for all the great comments! I love reading them!! So after experiencing some of the highs and lows of culture shock, I thought I'd share some of the cultural differences or “ghanaianisms” I've noticed so far:

- you pass items with your right hand only, and eat just with your right hand - your left hand is reserved for one use only!
- you “pick” a taxi and ask to “alight” at the next “junction”
- beer bottles here are 625 mL
- conversations are very interactive, and so to let the other person know you are listening you must say “eh heh” throughout the conversation
- “how is it?” = “how are you?”
- to get someone's attention you hiss at them
- it’s completely normal for heterosexual men to hold hands when walking down the street
- the biggest vehicle has the right of way – trucks before cars, cars before motorcycles, motorcycles before bicycles...pedestrians watch out!
- shared taxis are taxis with multiple occupants with possibly different destinations
- there this Ghanaian handshake involving a two-person snap that is impossible between two Westerners!
- Ghanaians can sleep anywhere – on the street, amongst red peppers in the market, on the road under a truck!

What I do, Where I've been and a Chicken

2006-05-23T13:29:00.000-04:00

So I’ve been in Ghana for 2 whole weeks now and I realized that I never fully explained why I’m here! I’ll start at the beginning with a very broad overview. Get ready for the acronyms!! Engineers Without Borders Canada (EWB) is a national charitable organization dedicated to promoting human development through access to appropriate technology. The head office is located in Toronto and EWB chapters are at 24 universities across Canada. Each chapter fundraises to send one or two volunteers overseas for the 4 month summer break. This program is called the Junior Fellowship in International Development (JFID).

This summer there are a total of 44 Junior Fellows with 23 based in Ghana. My placement is a little different than the regular JFID program, as my chapter and I are participating in the Working Partnership program (WP). Through a WP, a JF is placed with a long-term overseas volunteer (LTOV). The chapter helps financially support the LTOV and the chapter shares in the overseas experience through regular communication and special workshops.

So, I joined Luke Brown, a fellow Western grad who has been in Ghana since February. We are working with the Community Water and Sanitation Agency (CWSA), a governmental organization responsible for providing water and sanitation facilities and programs to rural communities and small towns. We are working out of the regional CWSA office in Tamale. In Ghana, regions are like provinces and districts are like counties. One of the goals this summer is to explore the possibility of placing future JFs at the district level of the CWSA to help build the capacities of these district bodies and have more direct impact.

Last Tuesday, Luke and I headed out to the field to assess hand-dug wells in three districts of the Northern Region. As we left Tamale, the scenery changed from cement houses on reddish-brown dirt streets to mud huts in open fields. We picked up a member of the District Water and Sanitation Team (DWST), the group responsible for water and sanitation issues on the district level. Then we headed out to visit several communities, leaving paved roads and a smooth ride behind!

In the first community we looked at several wells, assessing the condition, quality of construction and usage. Many NGOs have well-digging programs, but without implementing maintenance and servicing programs the wells are often soon broken and abandoned. The CWSA’s program works such that facilities will be provided only to those communities that request them, the community is required to provide a small percentage of the capital cost, and the community is responsible for operation and maintenance of the well. Each community has a sense of ownership and responsibility for their well, helping to ensure its sustainability. Committees within the community called WATSANS are set up to maintain the facilities, provide hygiene education and contact the DWST if there are any problems. The DWSTs are responsible for visiting the communities and monitoring the wells and boreholes.

Later that day, we set out for a remote village in the neighbouring district. We turned off the main dirt road onto what looked like a footpath. We crossed chasms and drove over boulders. I felt like we were in a pick-up truck commercial! There came a point when our trusty pick-up could go no further. So we walked…and walked…and walked. It was a scenic walk, passing rock formations, leaping across streams and seeing the majestic baobab tree.

After about 40 minutes, we reached the village – a collection of mud hut compounds sparsely distributed over the fields full of newly planted crops. We headed to the chief’s compound. He was called in from the fields and donned traditional garb before greeting us. We explained (well, the DWST explained because we didn’t speak the language) why we were there and what we wanted to do. We were taken to the village’s only well. As we approached we could see that the well was not fully constructed and not in use. The people of the community were fetching water from the nearby stream instead of their new well. Why use contaminated water when clean water is available? Logistical details like the overflow water not draining properly, the cover not being properly aligned allowing objects to fall in the well and contaminate the water supply, the water level being so low that the pump is too hard for the old women of the village to use are all giant obstacles that can result in the community returning to an unsafe water source. At EWB, we have all learned that development is complicated. There are always hundreds of factors to consider and no simple solution.

After examining and recording the condition and problems with this well, we returned to see the chief. The men of the village had come in from the fields - guests are an occasion for a village meeting. As visitors, we sat on a bench in front of the chief while he thanked us for what we had done (although I did not feel like I had done much at all). We were then presented with a chicken, as a token of friendship and appreciation. I accepted the chicken, excited as this was the first chicken I had ever received and nervous that it was going to peck my eyes out!!

As we trekked back to the truck with the sun retreating in the west, my mind was full of thoughts of how different people’s lives can be.

Travelling to Tamale

2006-05-14T10:59:00.000-04:00

There are so many sights, sounds and stories that I'd like to share with you, but for this post I've chosen to describe our journey to Tamale.

After staying two nights in the busy capital, seven other Junior Fellows (JFs), Luke and I boarded an STC bus headed to Tamale. STC is the state run bus company and apparently one of the more reliable and safe bus lines. Our bus arrived practically on time...only one hour late! It made me realize how much my life is run by the clock at home. We went for the true Ghanaian bus ride experience - another group of JFs caught the bus yesterday but they were spoiled with air conditioning and Nigerian movies!! The bus was full with people sitting all the way down the aisle. No a/c wasn't a problem since when we got going, we really got going and the sweet breeze was enough to keep us cool and send us to sleep.

The backdrop to our journey was the beautiful Ghanaian landscape. In the south it's lush, green hills and as we moved north the land flattened out and the trees became sparse. The few trees that we saw in savannah area were huge, tall and strong - probably a common visualization when thinking of Africa.

Along the way we passed through smaller towns and villages. Women sat by the side of the road with goods to sell and when the bus approached the bargaining would begin. From the bus you can just see the containers holding the goods perched on the womens' heads. Sometimes the bus starts to move again before the transactions are complete. Then you hear the womens' flip flops hitting the pavement to return the change to the customer. On our bus, a man bought a bag of red peppers but the bus pulled out before he could pay. He passed the bag out the window to return it to the woman. The bag hit the ground and the red peppers covered the road. The bus let out a collective "awww".

We arrived in Tamale 12 hours later, tired and excited to explore our new home.

Arriving in Accra

2006-05-11T10:51:00.000-04:00

On Monday, we landed in Accra at about 6pm local time. We spent two nights there and arrived in Tamale last night after a long bus ride from Accra. I'll have a more detailed post recounting these events and everything in between soon. For now, I'll just say it's been a really fantastic experience! Every sight, smell, and sound is new and interesting. Everything is different and everyone has been welcoming and friendly. Our senses were definitely overloaded when we arrived in Accra. Here in Tamale, it seems a little calmer. Luke is taking those of us based out of Tamale out this weekend to look at some places to stay. So, hopefully I'll get a little more settled in the next week or so and have time to fully (and properly) describe all the things I've experienced in Ghana so far and post some photos too!

Eating like a Ghanaian

2006-05-04T21:02:00.000-04:00

Training has been quite intense over the past four days. We've been learning about cultural integration, development approaches, situations we may encounter overseas and much, much, much, much more! Tonight we got a step closer to actually setting foot on Ghanaian soil by eating a traditional Ghanaian meal of fufu, groundnut stew, fried plantains, fish and beef skin. It was pretty tasty - the swallowing the fufu whole without chewing took a little getting used to though!!

Training Begins

2006-05-02T07:37:00.001-04:00

So I was a little nervous and apprehensive about a week of intense training and living in a house in Toronto with 20 other people...but so far it's been great! Other volunteers arrived from all over Canada and we've been really busy, learning lots and getting even more excited about going overseas. More to come later....

First Post

2006-04-19T10:40:00.000-04:00

Whoa! Is this working?? So I'm new to this whole blog thing, but hopefully through this I'll be able to keep you updated on my summer in Ghana.