Accra Psychiatric Hospital

Last week we visited the geriatric wards at the Accra Psychiatric Hospital. HelpAge provides cooked meals to the patients every two months or so. They also offer small financial support and other services to the hospital and its staff and patients. We came with two huge pots of jollof rice and stew, one each for the male and female wards. After weeks of office work I was eager to have some hands-on interaction with the elderly, however minor the role, which in this case was serving lunch. I had been to the hospital once before to speak with the medical director about holding an event with the patients for the UN Day for Older Persons. At that time I had never entered the wards so this was my first opportunity to see the inside of the wards and get a better idea of the conditions at the hospital. Hospitals in general exude a certain smell of sterility, but a hospital in the inner-city of Accra with concrete walls and floors and open windows takes on the smells of its surrounding environment as well as those of its patients. We went to the female ward first and it was indeed damp, musty and the smell of sterility along with urine infiltrated the thick walls. When we opened the door, a woman chewing on fish bones came running at me yelling “obruni” and wanting a hug and than just stared at me blankly and spoke. According to my colleague Francisca, the woman was speaking nonsense. We moved into an adjoining courtyard and began to serve lunch to the women. They were so excited and kept asking for more. Some were very responsive and talked to us while others that I imagine were suffering from dementia didn’t respond to our presence. One woman would not dress and walked around the courtyard nude speaking loudly and pointing at nothing. There was one woman that the nurse informed me had been left there a few days ago and she didn’t speak any dialect that they knew and no one knew her name. When I had served her she replied with “Merci” so the nurse asked me to ask her what her name was in French. Unfortunately, her reply did not yield a name, she was simply babbling. I wondered how a family could simply rid themselves of a family member like her. Maybe she didn’t have any family and someone thought this would be the best place to bring her. However, the nurse informed me of many instances where families leave elderly at the hospital or never come to pick them up after treatment. There remains a strong stigma around mental illness in Ghana, to the extent that people with mental illness are still referred to as “mad”. These attitudes are causing a drain on an alrealy over-burdened health care system where these individuals could be cared for by their families they are left to the care of nurses and doctors.

There is neglect for these individuals, as was evident by the conditions of the hospital. Such an environment will not encourage inclusion into a loving environment, which so many elderly need to fight the isolation that many often experience. Often people think elderly are a drain on the system because they are not contributing to society. However, people often overlook the contributions that these older people made when they were younger and more mentally stable. There was one woman in the ward that embodied this challenge. She used to be a nurse and the patron of the general hospital in Accra. She made me laugh because she introduced herself as Rose, Princess of Wales. I told her it was an honour to meet her. The economist in me knows that individuals discount the future way too much. They cannot place themselves in the shoes of an elderly person to know what it will be like when they age. People prefer to spend now rather than save for later, we attribute the best years of our lives to when we were young, and we neglect to treat the elderly the way we would want to be treated when we have reached their age.

The men’s ward was less lively mostly because the men were watching the Ghana-Spain match, but they also seemed more timid and unsure about us entering their courtyard. Something I failed to observe while I was there was the evident gender inequality that existed in the hospital between the male and female wards. Ebenezer told us later that the female ward receives an immense amount of support from church groups and women’s organizations. They had cots neatly lined with nets and blankets. The men however were not receiving the same treatment. Although women remain marginalized in the world there are instances where work for equality of one group can focus so much on that group that equality between the two groups is forgotten.
When we left, Jody made an important point. Nat asked her how she felt and she said she was sad because we came and went so quickly. What real impact were we having in their lives? What was sustainable about my work? Could that role not have been filled by a Ghanaian to foster self-sufficiency? Whenever my thoughts turn to this inner conflict, I try to bring the situation down to a smaller scale. I remember the smile of the woman when we opened the door to the ward. I remember the woman that wanted her picture taken with me and then pointed at her chest and then mine and said “buddy”. Even if it was just a smile and compassion, there was something I offered that day that changed their day. Perhaps their influence on me was much stronger, because their stories and faces can only strengthen my resolve to advocate for them.

I know this is a long entry but I have a prayer request. The three northern regions and parts of the western region of Ghana are suffering from intense flooding that ravaged the area last week. There are six people confirmed dead and an estimated 400,000 people have lost their homes. Entire villages were flooded, ruining homes, infrastructure and crops. Hundreds of livestock including cattle were washed away in the flood, this along with the loss of crops has posed a critical food security issue in the region. The Ghanaian government is responding with relief items. Please pray that these relief items are reaching those in need. Pray also for the families of the victims of the flood and for general protection and calm for those forced to live with family members or in schools unsure of where their future lies at the moment.

A Long Walk to Freedom

I finished reading Nelson Mandela's A Long Walk to Freedom the other day. My Ghanaian friend Francis lent me the copy in Canada shortly before I left under the premise that it's something anyone spending time in Africa should read. I've come to learn that anyone spending an extended period of time in Sub-Saharan African will no doubt have a discussion about South Africa. As I've mentioned, my colleague Jody spent seven months in South Africa last year so I've been getting my fair share of these discussions. To my surprise, I sped through the book pretty quickly, probably because I've wanted to quench a thirst I've had for understanding apartheid and why one of the most developed African nations continues to experience poverty and injustice. I can say I've learned quite a bit about current situations in South Africa, everything from HIV/AIDS to sustainability to water privatization. However, my understanding of these issues was lacking the political and historical context in which these issues came about and what perspectives and attitudes exist around them.

Mandela writes with a certain eloquence and humility. I cannot doubt that he was the hero of the freedom struggle. I know there has been criticism about his acquiescence to the regime when he was released from prison and that he weakened his stance on the values of the ANC. However, the man spent 30 years in prison where life did not change from one day to the next. Meanwhile, the world changed dramatically during those years outside those walls. The man was so far removed from the physical struggle of apartheid that his youthful eagerness had subsided. He even mentions that a young man is liberal and becomes more conservative in later years. I don't think his commitment to the struggle ever wavered, only the approach he was willing to take to bring about change. He saw what the armed struggle was doing to his people and he knew that both sides needed to meet half way for progress to be made.

There were instances in the book when I was inspired. His story is fascinating and to share the most personal things about your life with so many people amazes me. The way he speaks of his family and the sacrifices he made to be a father of a nation rather than to his children is heart-wrenching but beautiful. There were other instances where I was confused with the amount of Xhosa, Zulu and Dutch names that he drops that I could barely keep track of the story. Perhaps one of the most useful things I extracted was the Mandela workout that's been recommended by another intern. The running on the spot is an attractive alternative to running on the roads here because of fear that I'll run into an open gutter or get trampled by a tro tro.

A read that I recommend to all. Unfortunately, even after reading such an extensive narrative of apartheid I still don't think I have the whole picture. I want to read accounts of what was happening outside the prison walls during the most violent years of the struggle. Jody will be lending me one shortly that I hope will give me more insight into the struggle and the current attitudes that continue to create a tense environment in South Africa.

Although Ghana did not experience the brutality of apartheid there are parallels between the two states. Both produced notable leaders for African unity whose ideologies of pan-africanism inspired many countries to assert there independence from colonial influences. The situation in South Africa will always perplex me and I pray that several generations from now that racial relations will be restored in that country. Although time is of the essence, I think it is only time that can heal the wounds of South Africa and foster reconciliation. There is also a need to educate all South African children about their country and why they must actively pursue peace and understanding between the races. After reading this book, I've become a little more aware of my role as a foreigner in a developing country. I want to ensure that the skills and experiences I leave here are beneficial and sustainable. I want to make sure that there is equal knowledge being shared between me and the people I encounter in my work here. Not sure how all of that came out of a book but Nelson definitely got me a thinkin'...

Success with Photos

Well, I'll be gosh-darned. I was actually able to post a picture! After a month and a half I'm sure you were all starting to think I actually wasn't in Ghana, because there was no photographic proof. Anyway here is another picture that goes with the last. Meet Alfred Amonkotey. An 87 year old man from Bubiashie that atrributes his good health to a strict diet that includes a cup of bitter cocoa after 5 pm. He was by far our favourite at the day centre because of his sense of humour and obvious sense of style.

More pictures to come soon!

Down to 6 months...

Not that I'm counting or anything, but it's already September...it will be exactly 6 months until I set foot on Canadian soil. It does seem very far away but at the same time I've been quite busy this last week and time does seem to be slipping through my fingers. As I promised in my last entry, I will give you an update of the last week of events.

Last Friday, I went to see a play at the National Theatre called "The Dilemma of the Ghost", which was based on a Ghanaian folktale where a ghost is stuck at a fork in the road between Elmina and Cape Coast and cannot decide which road to take. The play highlighted the challenges of introducing a member of the diaspora to their native culture. A Ghanaian man marries an Afro-American and brings her home to Ghana where the man must decide between honouring his wife or his family. The costumes were amazing and we are hoping to go back next week to see another play. The series of plays being shown are free and being sponsored by the "Ghana @ 50" celebrations. The national theatre is also somewhat of an architectural marvel. It reminded me of a cross between the Museum of Civilization and Noah's Ark.

Let's see then last Saturday after our plans to hit up the Botanical Gardens were rained out we decided to go see the National Museum in Accra but after taking a long winded trotro ride through the city we ended up at the National Monument. Ghana's first President Kwame Nkrumah is buried here and the monument was erected in honour of him. There was a museum there about his life and he's work as a pan-african politician. The most interesting part, apart from the photos of Kwame dancing with Queen Elizabeth, then smoking cigars with Castro, then shaking hands with Mao, was talking to the young man that tended to the museum. We asked him how one would purchase the written works of Nkrumah and he told us that they were very hard to find in Ghana becasue current governments do not want the youth to read his works and start anything radical. Nkrumah had "socialist tendencies" as I like to call them, which I'm sure the current government, which seems largely interested in its revenue accounts than its people would want to control amongst the people. I am always amazed to hear about this lack of access to information and it is somewhat disheartening that the youth of Ghana are not being taught the ideologies that formed their country.

Apart from these cutlural and educational moments, my week has been spotted with random highlights. The girls and I ate dinner with the Nigerian producer of the African reality show, The Next Movie Star. Our friend works for the sponsor of the show which is how we ended up at this restaurant on the coast watching the housemates doing activities on the beach. I could have spent hours at this place because the view was breathtaking and I got lost in staring at the moon and listening to the waves crashing. A moment that reminded me with great admiration of sitting on the Malecon in Havana and staring into the sea.

Jody and I somehow managed to get invited to an AIDS walk being hosted by the housemates of this reality show, which is somewhat like American Idol. I can only describe the walk in the following way:

Take a bus full of potential movie stars, a box of flyers about AIDS, a crate of half-dried t-shirts with the Next Movie Star logo and an AIDS message on the back, one 6-person brass band, several Nigerian show-biz men on cell phones and two Canadian hippies looking confused...and what do you get? Yes, an AIDS walk...they somehow pulled it off, but Jody and I knowing full well that the show was being promoted first and foremost over the need to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS. Nonetheless we were entertained for the afternoon.

I do have a lot more to share about events of the last week but I will save it for later. The picture, if posted successfully is of an elderly support group in a neighbourhood of Accra called Bubiashie.

Much needed information

Hello all,
So I've been getting some pesky requests for the following information. I have not yet received a letter from home (although my mom promises me there is one on the way). From what I've heard it should take two weeks for a letter to get to my pretty little hands. Anyway, here is my address as requested. And I'm feeling much better since my last entry. An entry about my weekend will be posted soon.

Beth Lorimer
c/o HelpAge Ghana
Box OS 1803
Osu-Accra, Ghana
West Africa

Happy writing...but no obligation to. If you read this message I'll be happy enough to know that you are reading my blog.

The stomach retaliates!

I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. I've spent the last two days recuperating from a nasty flu, which I hope is the first and last I get in Ghana. Monday afternoon I was sick at work and proceeded to have a rather embarrassing ride home in the trotro. I had to stop the driver and get out so I could be sick on the sidewalk while the bus load of Ghanaians stared at me in shock. Luckily, my coworker Francisca was with me and was very patient and understanding. We caught a taxi back to my place and I was then taken under the care of my amazing house mates. I eventually called the doctor, whose house we've been staying at and he gave me some meds to calm my stomach and my fever. Monday night was indeed rough but I managed to fall asleep. Yesterday and today I stayed home from work to get caught up on rest and try and keep some plain food down. If anyone recalls my the time I got the flu in Grade 10 science class or the summer I got food poisoning from Tim Horton's, you'll know how I looked and felt. I'm happy to have the ordeal behind me.

Unfortunately, I missed one of the bigger festivals in the neighbourhood where I work yesterday and today. It's called Homowo and it's held annually for the Ga people. The girls went and ate something called, "kpokpoi" (corn-based dish), a word that I've been trying to learn to pronounce the last couple of weeks. It always comes out "po-poy" and Ghanaians think it's hilarious. Whenever I'm in the HelpAge van and there's a lull in conversation, I say "po-poi" really suddenly and Nat the driver replies with "kpokpoi" and we keep bantering back to each other like this until we start laughing. If anyone driving by heard us they would probably think there was something wrong with us. Hopefully one day I'll have the opportunity to eat it and maybe when it touches my lips I'll be able to pronounce it properly.

Little did I know...

...I could speak Twi before coming to Ghana!

First of all, some apologies are in order. The first is for my complete lack of editing skills on my last entry. For some reason, I thought I could write an entry in under 10 minutes as that was all the time I had left on my computer at the internet cafe. Next time that happens, I will buy extra time and do things properly. The second apology is for still not having any pictures to post to prove that I'm in Ghana. Trust me they are coming and when they do you will all be happy to see my shining face coming at you from the screen. Don't worry I look the same, although if this humidity keeps up I'll either be forced to shave my head or get braids.

Anyway back to my new found linguistic skill. As it turns out, I learned a song in Twi (the main Ghanaian dialect) many summers ago at Camp Hyanto. Our diocese had a Bishop visiting from Ghana and he taught us this song. I still remembered it because it was so beautiful but I completely forgot that it was Ghanaian and that it was in Twi. Anyway, on my way to work I read many phrases written on the sides of trotros and taxis. Most are Christian or Muslim messages and most are either in Twi or in English. I kept seeing the word "Nyame" which I recognized from the song I knew to mean "God". One day last week I asked my colleague Francisca if she knew the song and I sang a bit to her and she joined in and before you knew it I was singing in Twi! It was an amazing feeling and now I think I'm well on my way to learning more of the language. Ideally, I would like to learn Ga, which is the dialect of Accra, as many of the people here are from the Ga tribe. However, I was told that Ga is a harsh language like Dutch and that Twi would be easier to learn. We'll see where I get with both of them by the end of my time here.

In other news, work has been picking up at HelpAge Ghana which I may start referring to as HAG (not the nicest acronym, I know). I'm currently planning a host of media and fundraising events for the UN Day for Older Persons which is October 1st. We have a full week of events leading up to this day. The office environment is a lot more comfortable now that people know each other and we are working together on projects. Jody and I known in the neighbourhood too because there are too many "obrunis" where we work. I'm starting to feel a part of the community there whether it's buying lunch so much from the same ladies that they know what you want before you get there, or sharing my lunch with a young pregnant woman with children who lives close to the office. The feeling is nice. It makes the days brighter but inevitable go by way too fast.