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.