Thou Shall not Steal...

These words are not taken lightly in Ghana. Although Ghanaians do not constitutionally practice the "eye-for-an-eye" type law, there is a brutal unspoken process that occurs when someone dares steal from his fellow man. I have been able to observe and hear about many examples of such brutality and I think it is the hardest cultural barrier I’ve had to face. Although crime is not exceptionally grave in Ghana compared to some of its Sub-Saharan African neighbours, theft continues to penetrate society out of what I feel is a result of desperation amidst extreme poverty. The most commonly stolen good here is the cell phone from which most of my experiences here have shown. Many of you remember that my friend Jody’s phone (along with her camera) was slit from her bag and taken at a tro tro station back in September. She always said that although she found it very difficult to deal with the loss (especially the pictures on memory cards in her camera case) she said it would have been more difficult to deal with what might have happened if she had realized at the time and yelled thief.

The thing is, if she had realized her belongings were gone before getting on that tro tro and had yelled 'thief!', the man might have died. In Ghana, if you steal something you will be lynched. People will immediately raise alarm, catch the suspect and begin beating them, most often to death. One might ask why someone would not just arrest the suspect and send them to prison, but most Ghanaians would reply that putting them in prison means they will only steal from someone else once they’ve been let free. Ghanaians feel that proper justice is achieved if they take matters into their own hands. Something tells me that even the authorities don’t mind this approach because they are already overwhelmed by a system that lacks capacity.

A month after we arrived there was a brutal killing down the street from our office, because thieves in a stolen taxi drove by a woman and snatched her purse. She immediately called for help and aid came in the form of a car crash. Someone crashed the taxi and then dragged the four men from the vehicle. The one with the purse managed to escape by firing shots from his gun, while the others were beaten brutally, stripped of their clothes and burned to death.

Another incident involved my housemate Caitlin who was on a tro tro and waiting at a stop. She put her phone on her lap to do something and someone came by the window and grabbed her phone from her lap! Someone beside her noticed and yelled “thief” at which time everyone piled out of the tro tro, chased down the man, gave Caitlin her phone and then she began pleading with the witnesses to stop beating him. She was briskly ushered back onto the tro tro, when the crowd started to pick up rocks and the car took off without her ever knowing what the man’s fate or punishment would be.

And just after Christmas, someone came into our office and when the secretary left her desk to go to the store room, her phone was swiped from the desk. Unfortunately the man was not caught, but one can imagine what might have happened outside our office walls had he been discovered.

I’m not sure how to answer to this behaviour. I am aware that many people don’t trust the authorities to see justice through and for that sake feel the need to take matters into their own hands. However, I cannot see how one can follow the commandment “thou shall not steal” so fervently but then disobey the commandment “thou shall not kill”? Who are we to decide the life of another? I think this ultimately the hardest cross-cultural difficulty that I have and I also find it a conflict of faith. My faith teaches me to love my enemies even if they are sinners and to pray that God will grant them mercy and pardon. My faith does not say I can judge another man or take his life in my hands, because that can only be left to God.

CAN 2008

I’ve never read Franklin Foer’s book, How Football Explains the World, but after living in Ghana during the African Cup of Nations, I am beginning to understand his hypothesis. CAN 2008, which culminated this Sunday with Egypt’s victory over Cameroun, brought 16 countries together to 4 cities in Ghana for the 20-day tournament. I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a football buff but you could find me on match days with my face painted, waving the Ghanaian flag and cursing the opposing team. In fact, I even surprised myself at how excited I got about the whole thing. I even lost my temper at the Guiness Fan Park last week when Cameroun scored Ghana, a goal that cost Ghana a trip to the finals. Mind you, it was difficult not to get carried away, what with all the 24-hour whistle-blowing-horn-honking-flag-waving-Ghana-cheering action.

I wouldn’t necessarily say that football reveals any Earth-shattering truths about the world, but it has highlighted a number of interesting aspects of the way society works. I also feel it has gone a small way to explain aspects of Ghana’s politics, development, cross-cultural relations that I had not thought too much about. For instance, never have the feelings of Ghanaians, towards their former President, J.J. Rawlings been more evident than during CAN 2008. The former President was offered VIP tickets to the matches, which he refused and opted rather to sit in the popular stand with “his people”. He even received a warm welcome at the airport when he flew from Nigeria in economy class for the opening match. While he was sitting in the stands hooting and hollering with is fellow Ghanaians, President Kufuor was sitting demurely in the State box. The sentiment of Ghanaians was obvious. Somehow football managed to explain the intricacies of Ghana’s federal political parties.

Apart from politics, CAN 2008 has also opened a whole can of worms on corporate investment and development. Ghana has received a major tourist boost from the tournament with accompanying investment in hotels, transportation, sporting facilities and beautification. The major sponsor of the tournament was surprisingly Pepsi, which seems strange in a Coca Cola frenzied environment. However, Coca Cola did manage to make its presence known amidst a strong Pepsi presence by creating one of the catchiest fads in beverage advertisement. Coca Cola coined the slogan, “It’s Brrrr on the Coke side of life”, inciting a domino effect of people saying “Brrrr” at games, in the bar and on the streets. Somehow football managed to explain the competitiveness of corporate rivalry.

And of course, there is the obvious explanation that football can offer about the world, that sport can somehow ignite that Olympics-style optimism and hope that all society’s ills can be forgotten, if only for a short time. Football has some magical way of fostering global unity and cross-cultural understanding. A tournament that brings together cultures as north as Cairo to as south as Cape Town with numerous religions, languages, and races in between is bound to nurture some form of Pan-African unity. If you saw Ghanaians putting aside their animosity towards Cameroun for wiping out their team in the semi-finals or the Ghanaians waving Egyptian flags at the finals you would think the same. Or maybe that's my own optimism coming out? But even the fact that the finals brought together teams representing French- and Arabic-speaking Africa in an Anglophone country, must symbolize some form of unity, right? I know that this sense of euphoria will go as quickly as it came and many people will return to the daily struggles in their lives. The Sudanese must turn their focus again to conflict-ridden Darfur, Nigerians will turn away from their Super Eagles to face ongoing corruption and oil challenges, South Africans will turn to hosting World Cup 2010 and facing the challenge of trying to lose their title as the crime and rape capital before the world comes to its door. This is to mention only a few of the challenges that the continent currently faces. Despite these challenges, I still want to believe that there is one thing in this world that can bring people from different cultures together to laugh, cry, share and learn. Football somehow manages to do just that. So I won’t let my Ghana flag fall to the floor, nor will I let anyone dispute the fact that football somehow explains how a little black and white ball can bring joy to this world.

Happy Birthday Betty and Jody!

This year I spent my 24t birthday salsa dancing around a pool and eating chocolate cake on January 30th. Six days later we celebrated Jody's birthday on February 5th eating pizza on the beach and bowling. Yes, there is bowling in Africa! Thanks to all my Ghanaian friends who made my day special. (The staff at HelpAge Ghana, my roomies, Aaron, and the boys that sang me Happy Birthday in tenor voices at Coconut Grove...Kwesi, Sammy, Akiem and Jay). I am also grateful for messages from friends at home and a nice call from mom and dad.

Witchcraft in Northern Ghana

I think witchcraft is one of the most confusing and interesting aspects of Ghanaian culture, or even African culture for that matter. Although I think that each country has its own unique experience with witchcraft and Ghana is no exception. My introduction to Ghanaian witchcraft came from Help the Aged Canada, where I learned that HTAC was going to be facilitating a CIDA-funded project in one of the witch settlements in northern Ghana. When we arrived in Ghana, Jody and I realized that the proposal had not actually been approved and we wouldn’t actually be working with this marginalized group of older women. The situation as we learned it was that when someone fell sick in a village, an older woman would be accused of inflicting witchcraft on that individual. The accusation could even be made if someone experienced what we would think as bad luck but what Ghanaians see as some form of spiritual intervention, similar to a karmic vendetta. One such example was of an old woman who was begging a farmer for money. He refused her twice and then got bit by a snake on his farm later that day. She was accused of which craft because of this incident. Once a woman is accused she is sent from her village to a camp, which is mainly a settlement of other witches in a village that has taken these women under their wing.

So in order to learn more about the situation, Jody and I were compelled to visit the camps when we went to the north to listen to the stories of these women. Before leaving, I made contact with a Canadian whose number was left behind by last year’s HelpAge Ghana intern. He directed to a Ghanaian man working the CIFS office – funded by CIDA. When I arrived in the north I met with him, Charles Atia and he offered to bring me to a settlement of witches in Gushiegu later that week. The settlement was being supported by a Canadian who was helping fund a housing project for the women. We were interested in getting a range of perspectives about this interesting issue so we decided to visit the Gambaga settlement on Friday of that week and then I would go to Gushiegu with Charles on Saturday.

On Friday we set out to the Gambaga settlement, a bus ride from Wale Wale that took longer than expected down a very bumpy and dusty road. We arrived in Gambaga around 3:30 pm. The bus that dropped was heading to the next village and then would turn around and head back to Wale Wale, leaving us with 30-45 minutes maximum to get the information we wanted from the women. We were led to the chief’s son in the village who was the first to be able to speak English to us. He brought us to his father who were told would accept a libation from us in order to grant our permission into the camp. Once we paid our respects to the chief we were escorted to the camp and were able to speak with the leader. We ended up leaving with more questions than when we came. We were told a whole manner of things that confused us, like the women believed they were witches, some still practiced witchcraft, that as soon as they arrived at the settlement they were given an herbal remedy to cure them, that they couldn’t tell us how they came to the camp because it would reveal their secrets, etc. We were so turned around by conflicting narratives and what we believed were fabricated translations from the chief’s son. The two of us were exhausted by our late return to Tamale, but I was anxious to set out on the road the next morning to seek more answers in Gushiegu.

Jody left Saturday morning for Accra, so it was just Charles and I that headed out to Gushiegu at 6 am on Saturday morning. After getting lost in a thick brush and maze of thatch roofed villages, we arrived in Gushiegu three hours later. We were welcomed by a man, named Abukare who has been caring for the women and I guess acting as a contact for them to Charles. Immediately, I could sense that I would learn a lot more from these two men that I could from the chief’s son a day earlier. Abukare and I immediately started talking about the fate of the older women in the village, the social and cultural norms that precipitate their accusations and abandonment and a number of other issues related to the rights of rural women in general. I should also mention that this conversation was had over a nice groundnut soup with guinea fowl and rice. After we ate and chatted, I was brought to the women who had all congregated to speak with me. None of them could speak English so I started to ask questions through Charles and Abukare. The women were eager to show me their daily activity of separating grain from rocks that they had swept up from the marketplace. The technique was primitive and the grain they were actually able to keep was meager, but they were determined and hard-working. When I asked if any would share their stories, one piped up right away, unlike our odd response from the chief’s son in Gambaga. The vocal woman shared that she had been accused of witchcraft because someone in her village fell ill (who coincidentally happens to be strong and healthy now). Even her own children would not defend her and she was forced to relocate to Gushiegu. The women seem happy to be here however, because they fear facing their villages and what might happen to them if they try to return. There are some accounts of the women being beat to death when they try to return to their villages. This also sparked a discussion about the role that education plays in the rights of these women. If they were educated or had money and were accused of witchcraft they would be able to defend themselves against such accusations, but the fact is that many of these older women have neither of these tools in their defense.

Then Abukare, Charles and I drove out to the housing project to see the progress that was being made there. Charles asked if I would take pictures of the construction so he could send them back to Canada. As always, I had no problem with this as I am often on the right side of the camera lens for this job. The project was impressive and coming along well. The building stood on 5 acres of land and consisted of 8 houses with three rooms each. They were in the midst of building mud urinals between each of the buildings when we arrived. This meant that there were 24 rooms at the settlement and Abukare presented the challenge he was going to have filling them because there happened to be around 90 accused women scattered around Gushiegu. This roughly means 3-4 women a room. This happens to be the current arrangement for the women, but their current structures are damp, poorly constructed and vulnerable to collapse in natural disaster or spread diseases. I will not deny the challenges that Abukare will face when it comes time to separate them. The story of me and Gushiegu does not end here so stay tuned to hear more in the near future.

Checking in

I just wanted to report that all is well with me despite my lack of entries. Trust me it has nothing to do with not having anything to write about. Since I returned from the north I've had plenty of things to write about but always experience technical difficulties when it comes time to uploading them.

Things are very busy in Accra right now because of the African Cup of Nations, a fiery football competition that's as big as the World Cup. I was at the Ghana vs. Namibia game last week and hope to see many more in the weeks to come. So far, Cote D'Ivoire and defending champions Egypt are hopefuls to take the Cup this year. Although, if you ask any Ghanaian their response is fiercely patriotic and they say Ghana will take and has to take it hands down.

Anyway, please stay tuned for more upcoming blogs, some on the following subjects: Witchcraft in Northern Ghana, CAN 2008, Liberian Refugee Camp and hopefully a post to celebrate my 24th birthday!

Not that I'm counting or anything but I'm home in 5 weeks! Unbelievable. At this point in time, I'm looking forward to drinking "brewed" coffee, eating bacon and cheese, bra shopping and doing the crossword in the morning paper, the most when I get home. Hope my readers are happy and healthy.

The Great Dry North

Dusty roads, peaceful landscapes, strong dry winds and warm hearts. Nothing can describe the northern parts of Ghana more than these words. I suppose I could add that in my experience the north was also highlighted by hundreds of watermelons, dirty feet, broke down buses and close encounters with God’s creatures. On the 6^th of January, my colleague, Jody and I took a bus to Tamale, the capital of the northern region. One week later we arrived back in Accra exhausted, dirty, lathered in shea butter but ultimately happy. Apart from my dry skin and sore bottom from many uncomfortable bus rides, the north was good to us. We had an ambitious itinerary and by the grace of God were able to see everything we wanted to and more. Our adventure went as follows:

On Monday, we set out for Mole National Park. Our bus was supposed to leave at noon and so we arrived at the station at 11:30 am. Little did we know that the bus was completely unreliable and we didn’t end up leaving Tamale until 4:30 pm! The bus was packed with goods, mothers with babies on their backs, chickens and God only knows what else. So what should happen to us when we’re driving at full speed down the dirt road towards Larabanga? Yes, the driver hits a bump and we break the axle on the front wheel! Now we are stuck on a dirt road in the middle of Nowhere, Ghana. Everyone piles off the bus and we begin the long wait and hope for another bus to come save us. We happened to be traveling with two other Canadians that we met on the bus to Tamale the night before. We passed the time making peanut butter sandwiches and reading chapters from Things Fall Apart (a classic West African novel and an appropriate title under the circumstances). Some two hours later a second bus comes, after thinking that we would be spending the night there. We get to Larabanga and then take the village’s only taxi into the park. Of course, this couldn’t be a smooth ride either, the driver has to drive over a rock and pop a hole in his gas tank. When we arrived we tried to help him siphon what little gas he had left and then he took a bar of soap and shoved it up the hole. We arrived 12 hours after our journey at the station began and we were exhausted.

Tuesday morning we woke up for the 7:30 am safari walk and the rough trip into the park was definitely worth it once we began our early morning stroll. About five minutes in we had already seen our first of many elephants. The park was beautiful and mostly because it was extremely peaceful and being able to watch elephants bathe gracefully in the watering holes while others gathered around to drink was Creation at its best. The afternoon wasn’t entirely peaceful however, because our lookout was invaded by a group of olive baboons, one of which tried to slap me in the face. We spent the rest of the day relaxing in the peace and paid a short visit to one of the first mosques in Ghana in Larabanga, dated to 1421. Our trip to the village also brought us natural shea butter which our thirsty skin gladly accepted. We left Mole the next morning on a very early and uncomfortable 4 am bus. We spent most of Wednesday on the road, as we continued on to Bolgatanga after arriving back in Tamale.

On Thursday, we traveled even further north to Paga, along the Burkina Faso border where we experienced our own Crocodile Hunter adventure. If you can believe it, yours truly, straddled a crocodile and was petting its back! The crocodiles in Paga are said to be spiritual and can hear human voices. They even venture into people’s homes and are said to bring blessings. We also visited a slave camp on the outskirts of Paga, named Pikworo, that served as a stop for slaves coming from northern Ghana and Burkina Faso before heading to the slave market in Salaga. The rocky outcrop left eerie signs of habitation from slaves and their raiders. There were impressions made in the rocks where slaves were forced to carve out bowls to eat. There was even a rock that the slaves would play like a drum with smaller stones and we were able to listen to some men playing the natural instrument while singing songs from the days of the slave trade. Before leaving Paga, we drove to the Burkina Faso border to give Ghana’s neighbour a wave and then we headed back to Tamale.

Friday and Saturday were spent in less of a tourist fashion but ultimately rewarding and also confusing experience. I will share what we did on those days at a later date as I think they will need and deserve their own blog entry. For now you can enjoy the pictures and know that I am back safely in Accra from my northern Ghana experience.

Photos: Jody and the broke down bus; elephant!; standing in elephant tracks; getting friendly with a croc at Paga; bowls carved in rocks used by slaves at Pikworo

Christmas Eve in Winneba

Here are some pictures from December 23rd-24th. I went to Winneba which lies along the coast about an hour outside Accra. We stayed on the beach and stayed up late singing Christmas carols and drinking sangria. On Christmas Eve I woke up at 5:30 am to watch the sunrise. It was one of the most amazing experiences and peaceful times for reflection.

In the picture is two of my Ghanaian pals, Jamal and Black...and my house mate Caitlin.

More posts from Christmas and my trip to the Xofa Eco Villa to follow.

A Chaotic Christmas

Well this Christmas was definitely different. Apart from lack of snow and cool weather, I was also lacking a gaggle of family and friends at hand to make the season bright. I did do some unconventional things...well unconventional based on my traditions of Christmas to date. On Christmas Eve, I woke up on the beach in Winneba at 6 am and watched the sunrise. It was a very moving and spiritual thing to do around Christmas Day if you haven't tried it yet. After that moment of peace and solitude, Christmas Eve became very chaotic. We tro tro-ed back to Accra only to get stuck in mad Christmas shopping traffic. The girls and I had our own groceries to get and we managed to struggle our way through the city with our Christmas chickens and veggies. On Christmas Eve night, we ate pizza (not the usual tourtiere affair) and went to mass to see the Nativity and sing carols. I got home at 10 pm and made hot chocolate (if you can believe that I can actually drink hot chocolate in 30 degree weather) and watched a Christmas Carol (the old black and white version).

I woke up very late Christmas morning and made coffee while the girls stirred. If you can believe it, Santa even made his way to our small home (well if you call yours truly cutting out stockings from coloured paper and laying treats on them on the coffee table, Santa, then yes). When Caitlin got up we started to make brunch (a delicious strata with granola and yoghurt to start). We pumped Bing Crosby through the house and we were really getting into the spirit. Around 1 pm, Caitlin and I took a crate full of oranges to the Accra Psychiatric Hospital to distribute to the patients. Things were very quiet on the wards so we were happy to stir things up a little for them. We returned almost ready for a Christmas nap and then realized that we had to start preparing our feast. So yours truly starting rubbing down two chickens and preparing them for the oven. We were busy bustling around the kitchen for most of the afternoon leaving briefly so we could go put on our party dresses.

At 6:30, our boss was supposed to come over with his family for a visit. In true Ghana time, at 7:30 he shows up and tells us he's taking us to dinner. We pleaded that we were having guests over for dinner and had been cooking all afternoon but he insisted and said, "I've already told my girls you are coming", so how could we say "no"? We get back from dinner at 9:30, fire all our food back up and have a late dinner around 10:30! I was exhausted and couldn't believe the cross-cultural communication breakdown that made a calm and relaxing Christmas into a fiasco. When recounting the story now I laugh to myself and say, "only in Ghana".

I think I've learned a few things about Christmas this year that I don't think I could have learned had I not been away from home. In Ghana, the true meaning of Christmas is stark. Yes, there are Christmas trees, tacky tinsel garlands and carols being played everywhere but apart from that the fanfare from the West is eerily absent. This leaves you contemplating on what it actually is we are celebrating, the birth of Christ. People don't make a big deal out of the commercialized Christmas because some only have Jesus at Christmas. I think I've come to understand this a lot more during Christmas and throughout Advent this year.

However, I can't and won't deny that I missed some familiarities of home this Christmas. I think I missed the following the most:
- putting the angel on the Christmas tree
- mom's fruitcake
- standing in the stillness of a snowfall and watching big flakes fall as if time itself is slowing down
- sitting in front of the fire and warming my toes while reading a book
- lying under the Christmas tree while listening to the Carpenters Christmas album on vinyl
- going to church Christmas Eve and feeling the warmth of joy and celebration in the air
- picking family up from the airport (wearing one of my mother's many funny Christmas hats)
- jamming with friends (you know who you are) and eating homemade sweets

Hope all your Christmases were magical and joy-filled. I know this isn't spelled right but I wish you all an "Efishia Pa", which means Merry Christmas in Twi! Don't ask me to write "Happy New Year". Pictures to follow soon...

Merry Christmas

Well the day is almost here (in Ghana anyway) and I just want to take the opportunity to wish you all this, wherever you may be, whenever you may be reading this:

A very Merry Christmas to all of you and your loved ones! May the peace of God that comes from this night give you joy and happiness for the year ahead.

I am missing you all muchly and thinking of you all especially at this time.

much peace and love.

Merry Christmas, Joyeux Noel, Feliz Navidad!

Conflict of conscience

I’ve noticed during my time here that I’ve had to let a lot of things slide that I normally wouldn’t in Canada. As a student it was very easy for me to live a socially conscious life. I didn’t have a lot of money so I walked everywhere, didn’t eat much meat, reused whatever I could and bought locally from the farmer’s market instead of the overpriced fruits and veggies from A&P. This meant my footprint was relatively low. Before leaving home, I was deeply troubled by this style of living. Even in my interview for this internship, when asked what was my greatest challenge, at that moment I replied that it was battling with the daily conflicts in my conscience about whether I should drive my car or walk to the grocery store, kicking myself if I forgot to bring cloth bags to the grocery store, and if I couldn’t find fair trade coffee I wouldn’t have any coffee at all. I prayed deeply about these inner battles and asked that God grant me peace with myself. I knew if I kept up with this behaviour I was bound to disrespect someone or push everyone away from me.

In this regard, Ghana has been extremely beneficial and not because I threw out my footprint by flying here but I’ve realized here that some things are out of your control and that living consciously is as much as being aware of your decisions as acting on them. I’ll admit that I still bring my cloth bags to the market and try to conserve water and power in my house. However, I’ve had to buy bottled water here, even though on the most part I opt for the cheaper bagged water (I like supporting it because it provides drinking water options to the poor who cannot afford bottles). I’ve also drank Coca Cola products and Nestle coffee…something I would never be caught doing in Canada, and thrown out perfectly reusable plastic bags.

Ghana has allowed me to step back and take in the big picture. I could hardly refuse when Coca Cola offered to give HelpAge ten crates of drinks for an event we were having, where at home I would have told them ‘thanks, but no thanks’. I can hardly refuse overpriced bottled water when there are no other options and the heat is about to consume me entirely. Many people would find these decisions trivial but they plague me deeply. I often think that living a socially conscious life means every decision you make must be made in this light or you cannot be called truly socially conscious. It’s like saying that an environmentalist that throws out a plastic bottle instead of recycling it is not a true environmentalist. Or it’s like saying that a feminist that decides to be a house wife is not a true feminist. I think Ghana has taught me that the way we live does not need to be absolute. The point is to be working towards that perfection, and in my case trying to live a life that is pleasing in God’s eyes. I’ve always considered Jesus as a role model for social activism and in this regard I try to work towards living like Him. However, in this sense, I can hardly ever say that I’ll be perfect or even Jesus, so I should just try to live His teachings as much as I can and pray that He forgives me throwing my glass coca cola bottle in the trash can…after all at least I didn’t throw it in a gutter, right?

p.s. This entry was prompted by learning Canada’s recent decision to reject the emission targets for 2020 at the climate change summit in Bali. God help the US, Canada and Japan learn the error of their ways and hopefully change their minds.

Make Slavery History

This past weekend I went to Cape Coast and Elmina to see the slave forts. For the historians out there, you may recognize these names as two of the largest trading posts on the coast of West Africa. The most commonly traded commodity in this area was slaves, despite the fact that both castles lie on the Gold Coast (the Portuguese names Elmina, ‘the mine’ for this reason). I have already shared with you a little bit of what I felt when I visited the slave fort in Shama. However, that was a small fort and the experiences in Cape Coast and Elmina, although similar were much graver. Both castles lie within the hearts of Cape Coast and Elmina towns, whitewashed and ominous, looming over the sea. Yet, the environment and people that surround their somber walls are lively and breathe the freedom that their ancestors toiled for. Colourful fishing villages, bustling markets, children splashing in the sea, are signs that freedom and salvation reign where they were once only dreamed of.

The stories told inside the walls were not as bright as the exterior. The conditions of the slaves were unimaginable and we merely got a glimpse of what they endured day after day. They lived in dank, overcrowded and under-ventilated dungeons, with poor sanitation. The women were victims of rape by the guards and even the governors that resided at the forts. Men that tried to escape or resist the guards were condemned and left to die. Cape Coast castle was a major slave trading fort for the British while Elmina, first owned by the Portuguese was mostly managed by the Dutch and still exhibits the symbol of the Dutch West India Company. The disparity between the slaves and the merchants and governors living conditions was stark. It was haunting to walk through the dungeons, down the tunnels that led to the underground doors that led the slaves to the boats that left for the Americas. They call the door the ‘door of no return’ and they have been strewn with wreaths and messages by members of the Diaspora in the Americas remembering their ancestors. I cannot imagine what a slave would do at this door. Would they pray for their return? Would they cry from fear and anxiety? Or would they sing to keep hope?

Just inside the gates of Elmina castle the following words were etched on the wall which I think capture the feeling in the castle:

In everlasting memory of the anguish of our ancestors

May those who died rest in peace

May those who return find their roots

May humanity never again perpetrate such injustice against humanity

We the living vow to uphold this

Disgracefully, we have not managed to uphold this as many people around the world continue to be ‘enslaved’ and are sold, trafficked and compelled to do work against their will. I pray for those that were enslaved and those that are enslaved and pray that mercy will loose their chains. I pray that God will continue to create reconciliation between the African continent and the nations that perpetrated colonialism and slavery. As we commemorate the anniversary of the abolishment of the slave trade this year, we should also commit ourselves to not just let time heal our relationships with one another, but work actively to build trust and reciprocity across races, religions and cultures.

World AIDS Day

People from around the world recognize WAD with various activities, everything from protests to vigils, to remember those and speak out for those infected and affected by HIV/AIDS. In Accra, the Ghana AIDS commission culminated a week of activities with an awareness walk through the downtown core of the city. As the heat is so intense at this time of year, the walk began at 6 am and I regret that yours truly wasn’t up to the task to rise and shine for any cause at that hour. I did however recognize the day in what I hope isn’t a unique way. I underwent VCT (voluntary testing and counseling) and got myself tested for HIV.

My colleague Jody, has been volunteering with a VCT clinic in Accra and they were holding a VCT screening at a major internet café in the city. We wanted to support the initiative so I went with her and Caitlin. The VCT was a very simple set-up with one room, one counselor and one lab technician. I’m not sure what made me want to get tested but I think I did it as an advocacy tool to tell people that they shouldn’t be afraid or ashamed of the process. To get tested is a positive life choice. You can find out you’re positive and from that point take precautions to not infect others and take better care of yourself to avoid opportunistic infections. You can find out you’re negative and value the choices you have made and continue to make positive choices to avoid infection. The process of VCT is supposed to be empowering and to learn one’s status is not a death sentence.

I was happy to see that an organization was implementing a practical recognition apart from the advocacy walks and awareness gatherings for World AIDS Day. Although few people attended the session, those that did were made aware of the actions that may put them at risk of HIV and what it means to live positively with HIV. As we later learned, even of the few people that attended the screening, one was infected. Often times it is difficult to measure impact of such an event but to know that that one person can begin making positive choices in their life means that change is being made.

In sub-Saharan Africa, Ghana has a relatively low prevalence rate of HIV, however this leaves no room to be complacent. The most common concern is the stigma and discrimination that continues to arise in the communities. The theme of this year’s WAD in Ghana targeted leadership as the key area where stigma and discrimination could be reduced. In Ghana, this is precisely where the education needs to be coming from, the chiefs, priests, imams, and politicians that are held in such high esteem in the community. There is also a lot of misperceptions and misinformation about HIV and AIDS in Ghana and many people will look to their leaders for the facts and truth. They hold the power of effecting change and I pray that they will see the need to make HIV/AIDS a priority.

Photo: Caitlin and I at the Society for Women and AIDS in Africa Gala at the Canadian High Commission (I think we were trying to experiment with the night settings on my camera)

Monkeying Around in the Shai Hills

Just north of Accra, in the Shai Hills there’s a small forest reserve that is home to colonies of baboons and some chimpanzees. There are also many antelope, snakes and bird colonies within the reserve. The Shai people used to inhabit the land before they were ousted by the government in the late 1950s. They now reside in the neighbouring communities but return every year for annual rituals and sacrifice. Our guide told us that the sacrifice used to be human but assured us this was not practiced anymore. We were relieved to see the remains of a goat’s skull which we were told was this year’s sacrifice.

The old chief’s palace is located in the reserve in a cave set on a rocky hill. The cave houses many bats! We went right into the cave and had to squeeze between two rocks to see the bats. The guide told us that when the tribe was being attacked the women and children would hide in behind the rocks for protection. The guide also pointed out vines that the tribe would use to keep a lookout on any potential invaders. At the base of the hill were two large Baobab trees. I’ve always wondered why the Baobab tree holds such high esteem among African vegetation. Turns out, the tree has medicinal bark and leaves and can even retain water! I told the guide that it sounds like the tree of life and he agreed. Every year, when the Shai people return they place a cloth around the tree to indicate that they were here. Apparently there is a cloth for every year dating back to the 1800s.

We were lucky enough to get in the 4x4 of a Japanese tourist from Honda with his Ghanaian colleague. They even drove us to the next town called Akosombo where Ghana’s major dam is located. We were able to enter the dam site and had a guide tour us and tell us all the intricacies of the dam. The dam sits where the Volta River meets Lake Volta. Ghanaians depend greatly on this body of water for food, power and livelihoods. It was a cool feeling to stand on the dam between the lake and the river and have an exceptional view of both sides.

The pictures are of some baboons that were very friendly (for no other reason than the fact we were feeding them plantain chips) from the forest reserve, the chief’s palace in the bat cave (sorry, no pictures of bats, I didn’t want to disturb them), and the Akosombo Dam.

African Football Fever!

For those that know me I’ve never been much of a fan for football or as we Canadians would call it “soccer”, so if you saw me a few Wednesdays ago draped in a Ghanaian flag and yelling curses at a Beninois goalie you might not have recognized me. In preparation for the African Cup of Nations, which begins in Accra come January, the Black Stars held a four-country tournament two weeks ago to test out their newly renovated stadium. I went to the gold game between Ghana and Benin, who are unfortunately called the Squirrels (not a very intimidating team name if you ask me, although ask any resident of the Queen’s ghetto and they might beg to differ). The stadium wasn’t filled to capacity but there was enough cheering, music and support to fill the empty seats. Ghanaians are definitely proud of their footballers and show their support by wearing flags, blowing trumpets, and even running through the stands bare bottomed (avert your eyes ladies!). The most enthusiastic are the National Supporters Union groups that take up full sections and chant, sing gospel and dance in sync. The atmosphere was definitely colourful and exciting. They say that visitors to Ghana should see three things, a wedding, a funeral and a football match. These events are definite windows into true Ghanaian culture.

The crowd was anxious for the first half where Benin managed to score twice on Ghana and the Black Stars were unable to reciprocate by the end of the first half. However, in true valiant nature, the Black Stars sprung back in the second half and managed to win the game and ultimately the tourney with a 4-2 victory. I think it was necessary to have some prep for the African Cup of Nations in January which will attract millions of viewers and spectators to three cities in Ghana. Ghana has a good chance of taking away the Cup this year, or maybe this is just a biased optimism coming through. After all, what do I know about African football? I really only know two Black Stars names, Stephen Appiah and Michael Essien (who Chelsea fans will know), who seem to be well loved by their fellow compatriots. But I guess you have to start somewhere, right? I know all the hard core football fans out there will be watching the Cup closely so I’ll be sure to keep my blog updated on the scores.

Go Black Stars Go!

Some photos to keep you sated...

So I'm getting harassed to make some posts and regret that I came all the way to the cafe to realize I hadn't loaded any of my blogs on my pen drive. Yikes! I will do so this afternoon and hopefully have some up by the end of the day. Until then, for those of you checking often, here are some photos to keep you interested. Stay tuned for blogs on African football, World AIDS Day, urban bias and much more! Wow am I trying to sell this thing or what?

On a side note, I was walking to work today and heard the Christmas Song blaring in the streets. A little strange to hear "folks dressed up like Eskimos" when I'm sweating buckets and sweltering under the sun. Hope all my Canadian family and friends are enjoying the snow...

The pictures are from Independence Square in Accra and Bojo Beach where I went last Sunday. Does the picture of yours truly remind anyone of an LL Bean ad or what?

Developing Trust

Two recent incidents in Ghana recently have disturbed me deeply. Both incidents have me thinking about the importance of trust in cross-cultural relations and how this plays a role in development. Last week I heard a story of a British consultant that molested a three year old Ghanaian girl. The man was with his Ghanaian colleague and the colleague left his daughter with the man, who than proceeded to molest her. The only way the father knew was because the girl was bleeding profusely when he returned. The situation enraged me because that little girl’s life will be changed forever by that one moment. I cannot imagine what is going through the mind of her father but I can only imagine that he will find it very difficult to work with foreign colleagues or develop any sort of trust with them, which is a major detriment to creating meaningful cross-cultural relationships.

The second incident also involving a British man, this one a 63-year old photographer, was with a 19-year old Ghanaian boy. The man and the boy met online and the man said he was coming to Ghana on business and would visit the boy. The boy picked the man up from the airport and brought the man to his family, who he introduced to them as his pen pal. The two then traveled to Cape Coast and Kakum NP where at each location, the man sodomized the boy, took illicit photographs and videotaped the two in indecent acts. The man was caught at the airport where he was suspected of smuggling drugs but instead was found to have indecent photographs and videos. Both the man and the boy, because he was of age, were arrested and are awaiting trial.

I do not want to know what possesses people to perform such acts. I’m sure they do not realize that their actions have repercussions far beyond themselves and their victims. These incidents weaken any trust that has been established between Ghana and foreign countries. In a culture where the history of cross-cultural abuse is so strong, because of the slave trade, the role of trust in development here is crucial. For those people that are trying to develop an environment of reciprocity and trust, there work will be overshadowed by these bad incidents. The position of foreigners working in development is already so fragile because ultimately the goal is for a country to realize its own potential without the inputs or conditions of outside sources.

This also raises questions of sustainability that is also so important to development. I’ve even noticed that my boss prefers to do things himself that could easily be shared by myself and Jody. We’ve often wondered why he doesn’t choose to share his burden with us and we’ve realized that it’s probably because he knows we are leaving in a few months and will have to do it himself then anyhow. He thinks that the work we do will be unsustainable and is trying to protect the interests of his organization and its beneficiaries. Meanwhile, Jody and I sit and wonder what it is that we can do and question whether our presence here is having any real impact.

Ant Attack!

When you go to Africa people worry you about large predatory animals like lions and well not tigers and not bears but a slough of other horrifying creatures like snakes and large venomous insects. However, no one ever really addresses the fact that the biggest pest and most aggressive is the ANT! Yes, my life has been taken over by tiny little insects that bite at my feet, invade my desk, bathroom and kitchen and generally cause much anxiety. I can’t seem to get rid of them and they torment me like they know that they can get to me and take pride in it. The only thing I can say that I’ve found mildly fascinating about them is the sheer masses they travel in and the teamwork they employ to move things. I’ve seen full size moths, like the one in this picture and cockroaches being carried away by an assembly line of ants, up walls and around objects.

There have been two horrifying experiences with them to date. I woke up one morning and went to do the bathroom to do my business. I was still in a daze from sleep and I’m sure my eyes were only half open. When I went to reach for the toilet paper the entire roll and holder was covered with ants. I then noticed that the entire wall to the right of the toilet was covered in ants scurrying and traveling in chaos. I freaked and ran from the bathroom. Not having any Raid in the house I had to fend them off with a bottle of Deep Woods and a shoe. The second experience was one morning in the office. The previous night I was sitting at the table playing cards and someone looked over my shoulder and said, “Oh my God!” I freaked thinking thinking it was an army of ants to find out that she was merely noticing that a glass of water was about to spill off the edge of the table. So the next morning, my nerves already shot from thinking that ants are out to get me, my colleague Jody is talking to me and all of a sudden says, “Oh my God,” while looking over my shoulder. Is she referring to a glass of water? No…I turn to find out that my fear is not unfounded because a thousand ants were rushing around in a pile on the window sill behind my head. Aack! The office was a little more prepared than our house and we watched on as Ebenezer attacked the colony with Raid.

Most people would say I shouldn’t complain about such a trivial insect such as an ant, but I am and will continue to as long as they’re around. The other issue is that the only remedy or way to keep them at bay is with Raid. My immune system is already severely compromised because of the level of pollution in Accra and subjecting my system to the chemicals inside Raid is not helping the matter. I would use a home remedy like lemons but I don’t think I’d be able to buy enough. Another point of worry is that mango season is dawning and that means more ants because they thrive on the sweet nectar of the mango trees. I pray that God will grant me the patience to deal with these creatures.

Fieldwork in Shama

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A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to accompany Ebenezer, my boss, and Jody, the Project Officer, to a cornmill project that HelpAge supports in a village called Shama, in western region. We only went for the night and returned to Accra on a Friday afternoon. I should precede this with saying that the last couple of weeks at HelpAge have been somewhat discouraging. I am constantly reminded by my work that the organization has little money and there are currently few projects being administered because of the lack of funding. As such, I went with the hope that we would be able to see one of the projects that HelpAge supports in action and it might give us a renewed hope in the organization. This was however not to be the case, as currently the corn mill is broken, something attributed to a bad fuse and faulty wiring in the shop. Unfortunately, a part of me was thinking that this didn’t come as a surprise which I hope means I’m not losing hope altogether.

The building containing the cornmill was a wooden shed and alongside another building was in the midst of being constructed with a strong concrete foundation. The structure would house a kitchen and store room so the older women in the community could begin a small corn processing business for their village. I learned from Ebenezer that the building was yet to be finished because they had run out of resources to add windows, the floor, doors and a veranda. World Granny, who is the major donor for the project, contributed $500 to the completion of the building which was half of what the estimated budget called for. Although the money will help them get closer to realizing the full potential of the project, it falls short of allowing the grannies from seeing the project come to fruition any time soon.

I was also hoping that I would have had an opportunity to speak to the grannies and see what they thought about the project but most of the talking was done between the community contact, who is a headmistress in Shama, and Ebenezer. The women were Fente so it was even difficult to ask Nat, the driver who speaks Ga and Twi to translate what I wanted to ask them. It didn’t feel like the women really had a part in the project, apart from bringing their corn to the mill. I was reassured that the women would be taking care of the books and running the kitchen and store room but it felt like there was a lack of integration of the grannies into the planning and implementation of the project. However, I can hardly make an accurate assessment from just one glance at the community and the project, but I was getting this gut reaction nonetheless.

My hope is that HelpAge will be able to raise the funds necessary to complete the building and get the project running successfully. Or else, I might have to do my own a-maze-ing fundraising to get this thing going…hmm.

We had some time before we had to leave Shama and head back to the capital so Ebenezer decided to take us to the fort in Shama, Fort St Sebastian. The fort was first built by the Portuguese and changed hands several times before being used by the British during the slave trade. The walk through the grounds was haunting and it was not long before an uncomfortable pit formed in my stomach. When speaking about slavery, it is often hard to know what to say, especially as a descendant of British ancestry. Even now, I’m not sure how to express what I was feeling. We talked about the fates of slaves and the lasting effect that slavery has had on African development. The situation really allowed the reality of it to sink in. Ghanaians are so proud of triumphing slavery and colonialism, and have managed to keep a good relationship with the oppressors of the slave trade. They take full responsibility of the role that even their own people played in selling their people to the trade. The history of Ghana is so rich and diverse and I could feel it seep under my skin on that day in Shama. My next stop will be Cape Coast and Elmina where the larger slave forts are located.

p.s. In the pictures are some of the grannies from the cornmill project and chains from the slave fort in Shama.

Much needed update!

Hi all,
I feel I owe all my readers an apology for the severe lack of posting lately. I know there are no excuses but my internet cafe by my house is having severe technical difficulties, won't accept my pen drive and generally takes forever to upload pictures. So in an effort to keep you aware of my whereabouts I've come to another cafe to bring you all up to speed. I have many blogs on my pen drive that I've written and hope to post soon as well as some amazing pictures. I hope the suspense doesn't kill you.

In the meantime I will list some of the things I've been thinking and doing in no particular order:

- Work has been slow...and the work environment is lacking energy and motivation. I'm trying to be patient and find ways to work around this but it's been challenging. Currently I am working on compiling a profile of local grant institutions and donors and a 2-year fundraising plan for HelpAge. I am also hoping to compile and carry through a public awareness survey on HelpAge Ghana and issues of ageing in Ghana with the intent of improving advocacy and awareness activities.

- I celebrated Halloween in a weird and bizarre turn of events. I went as a prairie girl which many would mistake as a cowgirl...

- I went to the launch of World AIDS Day. I heard the Vice President speak and the President's adviser on AIDS and infectious diseases. The Ghana AIDS Commission showed a documentary on the theme this year which is Leadership, reducing stigma and discrimination. If the Commission can follow through with this theme some real impact could be made especially coming from leaders in the country, such as government, religious leaders, chiefs, etc. Also heard a Ghanaian rap artist PRAYE sing a song about World AIDS Day during which I saw the Vice President catch a yawn.

- Went to a charity concert for the flood victims in the north. I got to listen to John Legend's sweet voice which was an experience...and heard reggae star Luciano...the night was good but having to get escorted into the grounds by armed soldiers because of security reasons made us question why we went in the first place.

- Went to a wedding this weekend for one of the members of HelpAge's daughters. The ceremony was fairly contemporary. I was at an engagement party a few weeks ago that incorporates more cultural traditions. At the engagement party representatives from the groom's family presents gifts to a representative of the bride's family who has to accept the gift. Each gift holds a special significance, like a watch to symbolize time, a Ghanaian stool to signify that when we marry we come to sit and stay. I didn't know the bride or groom so it felt a little awkward to be there but I was grateful for the experience nonetheless.

So much more to say so I promise to write again soon...

Peace!

A Weekend Away

Last week, while rummaging through the shelves at the office I came across a book of Ghanaian poetry. Beneath one of the poems was the following Ashanti proverb:

If the wind brings you a gift, put a stone on it.

Well I can say that the weekend before last the wind brought me the gift of fresh air and adventure. Instead of putting a stone on it, I put my hiking shoes on it. This past weekend was a long weekend in Ghana because of Eid al fitr, so we all got Monday off from work. On Sunday, I took a mini bus with three other Canadians to Aburi, where the botanical gardens are north of Accra. We had heard about mountain bike rentals outside the gardens and decided it might be fun to take a jaunt through the hills on bikes. So we got geared up with bikes and a guide named Julius with a Barbie helmet and set off on a two hour trail through the Akuapem Hills. I’ll admit it has been some time since I last went mountain biking and the terrain was fairly easy to maneuver. I think when the guide meant, “some biking experience necessary”, he really meant, “experience with downhill, water, ruts and rocks necessary!” Nonetheless we managed to complete the trail despite our sore bottoms and sweaty complexions. The ride itself was pretty exhilarating…I can now say I’ve biked through an orange grove, gushing streams, a cocoa farm and small mountain village where all the villagers were in the same dress for a funeral. We even stopped to taste some of the cocoa beans which were sweet and refreshing. I’ll be honest and tell you that many of the hills at the end I walked from sheer exhaustion. At the end of our journey, fresh pineapple and cold water awaited us. We spent the night in Aburi gardens at a guest house. We definitely slept well that night!

The next morning we woke up at 7 am so we could catch an early ride to the falls. We caught a taxi that wielded through the mountain roads to a village called Adukrom, there we bought some bread and caught a trotro to Nkurakan. The road to Nkurakan was beautiful, amazing views and winding roads through dense and lush trees. It was market day in Nkurakan and the streets were packed with farmers and hawkers. We caught a taxi from the market to the falls, which were just outside the village. We were wise to get up so early that morning and beat the holiday travelers to the falls. When we arrived the park was empty. We rented a guide, named Samuel, to take us on a hike south of the falls. We were all grateful to be walking the trail that day, rather than on bikes! The trail started out from the park to grassy plains with more breathtaking views of the hills. However, we were soon winding down a jungle path deep into the forest. The trees were dense and the smells and sounds of the forest were all around us. We walked through a cave, across a ravine and up a steep slope of rocks. When we emerged from the trail, up above was a massive rock shaped like an umbrella. We climbed up to it and our guide told us to rest in the shade of the rock where the breeze was strong. He called it his natural A/C. Three of us paid 30Gp to climb a rickety bamboo ladder to the top of the rock and took pictures of the view. We were pretty freaked by the ladder but managed to ascend and descend safely. By the time we walked back to the park more people had arrived. We walked down the steps to the falls and took a dip in the edge of the pool where it was safe. The recent heavy rains have made the falls extremely strong and it’s hard to believe that at some point during the year the water dries up completely! We ate waakye (pronounced “wah-che), which is essentially beans and rice cooked together before making the trek back to Accra. It took three hours to get back passing through Nkurakan and then Koforidua.

The weekend was such a blessing because I’ve been so anxious to escape the city limits of Accra, smell fresh air and experience the peace and beauty of the countryside. I have never been so grateful to be experiencing God’s Creation at its finest. If more wind brings weekends like that my way I’ll be sure to have my stones ready.