Day 29
8 July 2012
Sunday was a whole lot of sitting around. The five of us at Ish had plans to go to the beach, but unfortunately, the weather preferred we didn’t. We instead spent time with Nigel, who showed us some of his favorite Ghanaian artists. I have to start making a list of all the new music I’ve heard here! It’s catchy and fantastic like American club music, but with Ghanaian influence.
While we were debating what new place we might try for dinner, the rest of our group arrived home! I was grinning like an idiot; I missed everyone so much. We all finally settled on christening the return of our obroni family at a British-style pub that Cara and Leslie (alumni, summer 2011!) recommended to me, called Honeysuckle. I could not have asked for a better night. We’re talking a pesto chicken burger with fries and veggies, a round of shots on the house, spontaneously breaking into song (American Pie!), being apologized to by an old drunk Brit for using the ladies' room, and celebrating the 21st birthday of my incredibly lovely friend, Isabeeellll!
I know I am going to look back on the nights like this with the greatest nostalgia. While I am looking forward to coming home, it’s going to take my heart a little while to recover from leaving the wonderful people I have met. I’m thinking obroni family reunion, Ghana 2013? ;)
Nante yie,
Gabi
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
The bad, the ugly, and the good
Day 28
7 July 2012
Saturday in a nutshell? Bad to ugly to good.
Friday night was uncomfortable. I don’t remember being fully asleep, but I was conscious enough to feel intensely itchy. Everywhere. My arms itched. My legs. My stomach. My neck. My eyelids. I didn’t think much of it until I woke up the next morning around 5:30 am. I thought, yeesh, the mosquitos must have had a fiesta without me knowing it! I stumbled sleepily to the bathroom around the corner. Looking in the mirror over the sink, I nearly choked. Whoever that girl was looking back was NOT me. Her eyes were puffy and swollen half-shut. Every inch of exposed skin was covered in giant red rashes. Jesus. what. is. this. As I looked myself over, I had to laugh. This was the first time I have ever had such a serious allergic reaction to anything. Well, I thought, at least I’m not dying. Though, I should probably get some help. I felt awful banging on Ridhi’s door at the crack of dawn, but I couldn’t find a single soul awake. Sweet Ridhi! She didn’t have any allergy meds, but she told me to try taking a cold shower, which helped stop the itching. Thankfully my symptoms reduced over the next few hours, but I still have no idea what caused the reaction! Haven’t changed my diet or really much of anything since I got here. Who knows. Don’t think I’ll forget that sight of myself. Like Will Smith with his giant balloon face in Hitch.
After the reaction died down, Ridhi, Josh, and I walked down to the main road off campus to see if we could catch a trotro to a popular shopping/eating/drinking destination, Osu. A trotro is probably the cheapest transportation around. I don’t know how else to describe it than a big sketchy van that is always cram-packed with people. I absolutely cannot forget to snap a picture of one before I leave; it is a sight. Unless it’s that rare occasion that you catch a nice trotro, it’s going to look like it’s falling apart. If you’re even luckier, you won’t be sitting next to the guy with really bad B.O. But trotros sure are cost-effective. A mere 40 cents got us downtown to Osu in about 25 minutes!
When we reached Osu, it was plain to see that this was expatriate central. We wandered into the Koala grocery store, where there were more white people in one place than I had seen my entire time here! The commodities were a good deal pricier here than they were at the Shop-Rite grocery at the mall. In general, I liked walking down Osu. Made for a nice change of scenery from campus. Most of the action, we found, is actually down the sidestreets where the restaurants and bars are located. Ridhi and Josh showed me Mamma Mia, a little Italian joint that serves authentic brick oven pizza! Ate what may have been one of the best veggie pizzas I have ever had. My love for pizza knows no bounds!
The rest of the day we spent at the art center honing my favorite new skill, bartering! I would be lying if I said it was easy. Or that it wasn’t a pain in the butt at times. But overall, I feel like I made some pretty successful purchases! One of the highlights was spending about 30 minutes drooling in a few booths over a gazillion pre-owned leather purses. Couldn’t resist picking up a new bag for school!
The most effective tool I found in the art center is the ability to walk away. If a seller won’t come down to a price you view as fair, you can often find similar products at neighbor booths and see how they might go about a better deal. I was intrigued to learn that at the art center, sellers who sell similar merchandise form mini unions together and set a certain price they absolutely won’t go below in order to make a profit. The trick for shoppers is to find that price! I always have to laugh... often I’ll think I scored a great deal until I find out that one of my groupmates got a better one on the same item. Ah well, relatively speaking, the cost is low when we’re talking exchange rates. Even if I couldn’t haggle the best price, I don’t feel as though I’ve been thieved. If they make an extra bit of bank from me, more power to them! That’s food on the table for their families.
Despite having a bit of a rocky start, my day had a lovely, most exhausting ending. You can bet I made up for lost sleep that night.
Nante yie!
Gabi
7 July 2012
Saturday in a nutshell? Bad to ugly to good.
Friday night was uncomfortable. I don’t remember being fully asleep, but I was conscious enough to feel intensely itchy. Everywhere. My arms itched. My legs. My stomach. My neck. My eyelids. I didn’t think much of it until I woke up the next morning around 5:30 am. I thought, yeesh, the mosquitos must have had a fiesta without me knowing it! I stumbled sleepily to the bathroom around the corner. Looking in the mirror over the sink, I nearly choked. Whoever that girl was looking back was NOT me. Her eyes were puffy and swollen half-shut. Every inch of exposed skin was covered in giant red rashes. Jesus. what. is. this. As I looked myself over, I had to laugh. This was the first time I have ever had such a serious allergic reaction to anything. Well, I thought, at least I’m not dying. Though, I should probably get some help. I felt awful banging on Ridhi’s door at the crack of dawn, but I couldn’t find a single soul awake. Sweet Ridhi! She didn’t have any allergy meds, but she told me to try taking a cold shower, which helped stop the itching. Thankfully my symptoms reduced over the next few hours, but I still have no idea what caused the reaction! Haven’t changed my diet or really much of anything since I got here. Who knows. Don’t think I’ll forget that sight of myself. Like Will Smith with his giant balloon face in Hitch.
After the reaction died down, Ridhi, Josh, and I walked down to the main road off campus to see if we could catch a trotro to a popular shopping/eating/drinking destination, Osu. A trotro is probably the cheapest transportation around. I don’t know how else to describe it than a big sketchy van that is always cram-packed with people. I absolutely cannot forget to snap a picture of one before I leave; it is a sight. Unless it’s that rare occasion that you catch a nice trotro, it’s going to look like it’s falling apart. If you’re even luckier, you won’t be sitting next to the guy with really bad B.O. But trotros sure are cost-effective. A mere 40 cents got us downtown to Osu in about 25 minutes!
When we reached Osu, it was plain to see that this was expatriate central. We wandered into the Koala grocery store, where there were more white people in one place than I had seen my entire time here! The commodities were a good deal pricier here than they were at the Shop-Rite grocery at the mall. In general, I liked walking down Osu. Made for a nice change of scenery from campus. Most of the action, we found, is actually down the sidestreets where the restaurants and bars are located. Ridhi and Josh showed me Mamma Mia, a little Italian joint that serves authentic brick oven pizza! Ate what may have been one of the best veggie pizzas I have ever had. My love for pizza knows no bounds!
The rest of the day we spent at the art center honing my favorite new skill, bartering! I would be lying if I said it was easy. Or that it wasn’t a pain in the butt at times. But overall, I feel like I made some pretty successful purchases! One of the highlights was spending about 30 minutes drooling in a few booths over a gazillion pre-owned leather purses. Couldn’t resist picking up a new bag for school!
The most effective tool I found in the art center is the ability to walk away. If a seller won’t come down to a price you view as fair, you can often find similar products at neighbor booths and see how they might go about a better deal. I was intrigued to learn that at the art center, sellers who sell similar merchandise form mini unions together and set a certain price they absolutely won’t go below in order to make a profit. The trick for shoppers is to find that price! I always have to laugh... often I’ll think I scored a great deal until I find out that one of my groupmates got a better one on the same item. Ah well, relatively speaking, the cost is low when we’re talking exchange rates. Even if I couldn’t haggle the best price, I don’t feel as though I’ve been thieved. If they make an extra bit of bank from me, more power to them! That’s food on the table for their families.
Despite having a bit of a rocky start, my day had a lovely, most exhausting ending. You can bet I made up for lost sleep that night.
Nante yie!
Gabi
You're too much.
Day 27
6 July 2012
Friday was the beginning of a long, quiet weekend at Ish. With the exception of five of us, the rest of our group left early that morning to go on the second optional group trip to the Volta region, where they climbed the tallest mountain in Ghana, visited a game reserve, and hung out with monkey pals at the monkey sanctuary (And by sanctuary, I mean a village that cohabits with monkeys. Omg.) Unfortunately, I didn’t have the means to go on both optional trips, but hey, it is what it is. It was nice to have a weekend to catch up on some much-needed rest.
That day, Ridhi, Josh, and I decided to take a taxi to run a few errands at the Accra mall. Before I say more, I need to take a second to vent how much I resent taxis. Well, maybe not the taxis themselves, or their drivers. I’ve actually met some lovely taxi drivers! What I mean to say is I resent my need for taxis here. See, I have nothing against public transportation. You gotta do what you gotta do when your hostel is a good distance from any desirable parts of the city. What is frustrating to me is that finding a taxi that will take us to our destination at a reasonable price is a bit of a hassle. Because we’re clearly foreigners, taxi drivers overcharge us every time. And we can haggle, that’s okay. But sometimes the more stubborn drivers are perfectly content with driving away when we can’t get them to budge to a fair fare. Even more stressful is when the taxi driver agrees to the price, we get in, and he has no idea where he’s going. So we’re left driving in circles around the city trying to find landmarks, streetnames, anything that will help him find the place. As I’m writing this, it’s dawning on me that this is one of those times I am asking for too much. Yeah... I am, haha. I’m extremely fortunate to have the convenience of my own car back in the States. Look at me, improving my own moral education as I blog!
Taxis aren’t as unbearable as I’m making them out to be, honestly. To get from A to B without having to sweat in this sweltering heat is a beautiful thing. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve had conversations with a few of my Ghanaian friends who explained to me that because they work a full day every day with the exception of Sunday, they don’t have the chance to go out much... not even to see a movie. I swear I'm beating this dead horse, but I still don't think I've grasped how much I take for granted. Yet what’s interesting (and I forget this all the time) is that a good population of Americans live paycheck to paycheck in this way. It’s interesting to think about how income disparities distinguish us from one another, even within our own culture. I dunno, food for thought :)
After leaving the mall, we closed out the day with my second dinner at Cuppa Cappucino and a sleepy night watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s. And I said, what about Breakfast at Tiffany's? I'm pretty sure that's the only song I know by Deep Blue Something.
Nante yie, for now!
Gabi
6 July 2012
Friday was the beginning of a long, quiet weekend at Ish. With the exception of five of us, the rest of our group left early that morning to go on the second optional group trip to the Volta region, where they climbed the tallest mountain in Ghana, visited a game reserve, and hung out with monkey pals at the monkey sanctuary (And by sanctuary, I mean a village that cohabits with monkeys. Omg.) Unfortunately, I didn’t have the means to go on both optional trips, but hey, it is what it is. It was nice to have a weekend to catch up on some much-needed rest.
That day, Ridhi, Josh, and I decided to take a taxi to run a few errands at the Accra mall. Before I say more, I need to take a second to vent how much I resent taxis. Well, maybe not the taxis themselves, or their drivers. I’ve actually met some lovely taxi drivers! What I mean to say is I resent my need for taxis here. See, I have nothing against public transportation. You gotta do what you gotta do when your hostel is a good distance from any desirable parts of the city. What is frustrating to me is that finding a taxi that will take us to our destination at a reasonable price is a bit of a hassle. Because we’re clearly foreigners, taxi drivers overcharge us every time. And we can haggle, that’s okay. But sometimes the more stubborn drivers are perfectly content with driving away when we can’t get them to budge to a fair fare. Even more stressful is when the taxi driver agrees to the price, we get in, and he has no idea where he’s going. So we’re left driving in circles around the city trying to find landmarks, streetnames, anything that will help him find the place. As I’m writing this, it’s dawning on me that this is one of those times I am asking for too much. Yeah... I am, haha. I’m extremely fortunate to have the convenience of my own car back in the States. Look at me, improving my own moral education as I blog!
Taxis aren’t as unbearable as I’m making them out to be, honestly. To get from A to B without having to sweat in this sweltering heat is a beautiful thing. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve had conversations with a few of my Ghanaian friends who explained to me that because they work a full day every day with the exception of Sunday, they don’t have the chance to go out much... not even to see a movie. I swear I'm beating this dead horse, but I still don't think I've grasped how much I take for granted. Yet what’s interesting (and I forget this all the time) is that a good population of Americans live paycheck to paycheck in this way. It’s interesting to think about how income disparities distinguish us from one another, even within our own culture. I dunno, food for thought :)
After leaving the mall, we closed out the day with my second dinner at Cuppa Cappucino and a sleepy night watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s. And I said, what about Breakfast at Tiffany's? I'm pretty sure that's the only song I know by Deep Blue Something.
Nante yie, for now!
Gabi
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Did I already mention that I love my kids?
Day 26
5 July 2012
Thursday, my happy butt got to spend almost a full school day with my first graders! Madame Fiawoo (aka Mrs. Ruby) left me some time between subjects to let me conduct my second “obroni lesson”! It, uh, did not turn out exactly the way I had originally planned. I was hoping to teach the kids an educational-style game to help them learn their Twi vocabulary. However, this game involved the use of fly swatters, which I had some trouble finding. (Maybe Ghanaians put up with flies better than we do in America, haha) Instead, I decided to teach the kids the folk song, “Down by the Bay.”
I was amazed at how quickly the kids picked up both the melody and the lyrics! They were so eager to learn it that some of them were writing the words down in their notebooks, without being prompted by me or Madame Fiawoo. Each day that I come to help in class, I am more and more inspired by how dedicated the kids are to their lessons. Compared to the classes at the run-down, tiny concrete block schoolhouse my groupmates witnessed at Agbogbloshie, you'd never know the difference between those kids and mine. I'm thrilled that the zeal for knowledge is universal, no matter the living conditions of a child’s home or school. It must be such a fulfilling thing to work with kids their age for a living. Certainly it takes a large degree of patience, but that and a bit of creativity can go a long way.
Throughout the rest of class, there was one girl named Jemima who I noticed was treated differently than the other students. Whenever she came near the others, they made a great effort to stay away from her. I asked Charity why they treat Jemima like the plague, and she explained to me that Jemima has a bad case of ringworm, an extremely contagious skin condition. The school had previously invited Jemima’s parents for a conference, advising them and offering them resources to have her treated, but they have not yet complied. Poor girl, she is stuck with this nasty skin problem and no friends :( When I asked how Jemima felt about her situation, Charity responded that she would sometimes get upset, which has been affecting her school performance.
My heart immediately went out to this girl. I understand how it feels to be quarantined by my classmates for a medical condition that is out of my control. I got to know the horrors of LICE not once, but twice in the 7th grade. Kids are brutal, man. So, I decided to approach her during break time and invite her to come and play a game with us. Even while I attempted to invite her, some of the other kids were warning me to stay away. I reassured them that it would be all right, which, when we all formed a circle outside to play Ama Ama, it was! They treated her just the same as they would treat each other.
Ahh, it's so stinkin' cool to have this opportunity to intervene and have an influence in this situation. While this is often expected of the head teacher, I can understand why Madame Fiawoo is not always able to resolve such issues. She can't force the children to treat each other fairly. As an “Auntie,” or assistant, I seem to have an intermediate role: one that can bear authority toward the children as well as to be their friend and join them in games. If I can leave the kids with one thing before I go home, I hope that it will be the understanding that Jemima is their friend and is not defined by her condition. I wish I had more time to spend with them! There's only so much I can do to make an impact in a few weeks... Maybe I'm too idealistic, who knows. It's worth a shot :)
Nante yie,
Gabi
5 July 2012
Thursday, my happy butt got to spend almost a full school day with my first graders! Madame Fiawoo (aka Mrs. Ruby) left me some time between subjects to let me conduct my second “obroni lesson”! It, uh, did not turn out exactly the way I had originally planned. I was hoping to teach the kids an educational-style game to help them learn their Twi vocabulary. However, this game involved the use of fly swatters, which I had some trouble finding. (Maybe Ghanaians put up with flies better than we do in America, haha) Instead, I decided to teach the kids the folk song, “Down by the Bay.”
I was amazed at how quickly the kids picked up both the melody and the lyrics! They were so eager to learn it that some of them were writing the words down in their notebooks, without being prompted by me or Madame Fiawoo. Each day that I come to help in class, I am more and more inspired by how dedicated the kids are to their lessons. Compared to the classes at the run-down, tiny concrete block schoolhouse my groupmates witnessed at Agbogbloshie, you'd never know the difference between those kids and mine. I'm thrilled that the zeal for knowledge is universal, no matter the living conditions of a child’s home or school. It must be such a fulfilling thing to work with kids their age for a living. Certainly it takes a large degree of patience, but that and a bit of creativity can go a long way.
Throughout the rest of class, there was one girl named Jemima who I noticed was treated differently than the other students. Whenever she came near the others, they made a great effort to stay away from her. I asked Charity why they treat Jemima like the plague, and she explained to me that Jemima has a bad case of ringworm, an extremely contagious skin condition. The school had previously invited Jemima’s parents for a conference, advising them and offering them resources to have her treated, but they have not yet complied. Poor girl, she is stuck with this nasty skin problem and no friends :( When I asked how Jemima felt about her situation, Charity responded that she would sometimes get upset, which has been affecting her school performance.
My heart immediately went out to this girl. I understand how it feels to be quarantined by my classmates for a medical condition that is out of my control. I got to know the horrors of LICE not once, but twice in the 7th grade. Kids are brutal, man. So, I decided to approach her during break time and invite her to come and play a game with us. Even while I attempted to invite her, some of the other kids were warning me to stay away. I reassured them that it would be all right, which, when we all formed a circle outside to play Ama Ama, it was! They treated her just the same as they would treat each other.
Ahh, it's so stinkin' cool to have this opportunity to intervene and have an influence in this situation. While this is often expected of the head teacher, I can understand why Madame Fiawoo is not always able to resolve such issues. She can't force the children to treat each other fairly. As an “Auntie,” or assistant, I seem to have an intermediate role: one that can bear authority toward the children as well as to be their friend and join them in games. If I can leave the kids with one thing before I go home, I hope that it will be the understanding that Jemima is their friend and is not defined by her condition. I wish I had more time to spend with them! There's only so much I can do to make an impact in a few weeks... Maybe I'm too idealistic, who knows. It's worth a shot :)
Nante yie,
Gabi
HIV/AIDS got a brand new face
Day 25
4 July 2012
(All right ladies and gents, time for some #realtalk)
Innovation is a truly beautiful paradox. Actually, I think most paradoxes are beautiful, but especially innovation, with its ability to simultaneously foster creation and destruction. “Old and busted” is ditched for “new hotness” (Men in Black fans, holla!). For patients with HIV/AIDS, innovation meant new life when the first antiretroviral (ARV) drug became available in 1987. Since then, numerous other ARV’s have been developed that have prolonged and vastly improved the quality of patients’ lives.
The West African AIDS Foundation (WAAF) we visited on Wednesday is an NGO, set up in 1999. It is a partner organization to the International Health Care Clinic (IHCC), where the head full-time physician, Dr. Naa and her staff of 8 people, currently manage the treatment of 800 men, women, and children. Since the clinic first opened 18 years ago, it has seen a lot of death. As Dr. Naa explained to us, the idea of a hospice in Ghanaian culture is not well understood. Death is a taboo subject; dying is not talked about until death actually occurs (funerals are a BIG deal here; I've actually seen coffins for sale on the street). Because of this, communities and even people in the health sector would largely neglect those who are terminally ill. Individuals with AIDS would be brought to the clinic when it is too late to offer them substantial care.
Before 2003, IHCC did not have access to ARV’s. The clinic was effectually a waiting room for the dying. Dr. Naa’s words painted a vivid scene of patients doing little more every day than sitting sadly under the big almond tree in the courtyard, left alone by their loved ones. One of the nurses chuckled that the clinic saw so much death that it dubbed one of its able-bodied staff, the super-heroic “Mortuary Man,” who took it upon himself to handle the bodies postmortem. We couldn’t help but laugh with the clinic staff. Even the darkest humor helps to make light in a dismal situation!
2003 signaled a “new face of HIV” in Ghana. With ARV access, patients whose conditions are caught in the early stages of HIV, could be spared a few more years of health and self-sufficiency. In light of this, WAAF’s mission is to educate as many Ghanaians as possible about both the prevention and treatment of HIV/AIDS. Dr. Naa elaborated that education is the key to eliminate the stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS because the stigma is deadly. It is the reason that people will refuse to get tested or that families and communities will shun those who have the illness. As one of the nurses explained to us, the culture here tends toward superstition. For many Ghanaians, death does not have a natural cause, it has a spiritual one. HIV/AIDS means you are a bad person, you are cursed, you are under demonic influence... they believe touching or having contact with you will give them the disease. When an individual does decide to seek help, the clinic will sometimes have to make special arrangements to deliver treatment in secret because the word of mouth can ruin that individual’s reputation in the community. Every individual, regardless of his/her level of financial means, is accepted with open arms.
While there are still many obstacles facing WAAF and IHCC, the outlook is so bright. I was incredibly touched by the stories of this small staff who, despite working in such a bleak field, embrace every opportunity to smile. They work hard, but it was plain to see how much they love what they do. It’s amazing what innovation can do, when placed in the right hands of people who are dedicated to helping others.
This is the kind of stuff that gets me giddy as a pre-social work major.
Thank you #ghanalife, I’ll take all the confirmation I can get.
Nante yie,
Gabi
4 July 2012
(All right ladies and gents, time for some #realtalk)
Innovation is a truly beautiful paradox. Actually, I think most paradoxes are beautiful, but especially innovation, with its ability to simultaneously foster creation and destruction. “Old and busted” is ditched for “new hotness” (Men in Black fans, holla!). For patients with HIV/AIDS, innovation meant new life when the first antiretroviral (ARV) drug became available in 1987. Since then, numerous other ARV’s have been developed that have prolonged and vastly improved the quality of patients’ lives.
The West African AIDS Foundation (WAAF) we visited on Wednesday is an NGO, set up in 1999. It is a partner organization to the International Health Care Clinic (IHCC), where the head full-time physician, Dr. Naa and her staff of 8 people, currently manage the treatment of 800 men, women, and children. Since the clinic first opened 18 years ago, it has seen a lot of death. As Dr. Naa explained to us, the idea of a hospice in Ghanaian culture is not well understood. Death is a taboo subject; dying is not talked about until death actually occurs (funerals are a BIG deal here; I've actually seen coffins for sale on the street). Because of this, communities and even people in the health sector would largely neglect those who are terminally ill. Individuals with AIDS would be brought to the clinic when it is too late to offer them substantial care.
Before 2003, IHCC did not have access to ARV’s. The clinic was effectually a waiting room for the dying. Dr. Naa’s words painted a vivid scene of patients doing little more every day than sitting sadly under the big almond tree in the courtyard, left alone by their loved ones. One of the nurses chuckled that the clinic saw so much death that it dubbed one of its able-bodied staff, the super-heroic “Mortuary Man,” who took it upon himself to handle the bodies postmortem. We couldn’t help but laugh with the clinic staff. Even the darkest humor helps to make light in a dismal situation!
2003 signaled a “new face of HIV” in Ghana. With ARV access, patients whose conditions are caught in the early stages of HIV, could be spared a few more years of health and self-sufficiency. In light of this, WAAF’s mission is to educate as many Ghanaians as possible about both the prevention and treatment of HIV/AIDS. Dr. Naa elaborated that education is the key to eliminate the stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS because the stigma is deadly. It is the reason that people will refuse to get tested or that families and communities will shun those who have the illness. As one of the nurses explained to us, the culture here tends toward superstition. For many Ghanaians, death does not have a natural cause, it has a spiritual one. HIV/AIDS means you are a bad person, you are cursed, you are under demonic influence... they believe touching or having contact with you will give them the disease. When an individual does decide to seek help, the clinic will sometimes have to make special arrangements to deliver treatment in secret because the word of mouth can ruin that individual’s reputation in the community. Every individual, regardless of his/her level of financial means, is accepted with open arms.
While there are still many obstacles facing WAAF and IHCC, the outlook is so bright. I was incredibly touched by the stories of this small staff who, despite working in such a bleak field, embrace every opportunity to smile. They work hard, but it was plain to see how much they love what they do. It’s amazing what innovation can do, when placed in the right hands of people who are dedicated to helping others.
This is the kind of stuff that gets me giddy as a pre-social work major.
Thank you #ghanalife, I’ll take all the confirmation I can get.
Nante yie,
Gabi
Friday, July 6, 2012
Not so hot
Day 23 and 24
2 and 3 Jun
On Monday and Tuesday, I finally pulled the short straw. Woke up the first morning with my stomach ripping itself to shreds. Actually, I am amazed that I made it even halfway through this trip without getting sick like some of my other groupmates did. As much as I like the food here (I’m strangely content eating rice every day), I can’t help but feel like all the carbs, starches, and lack of vegetables are ruining my body. So, all day Monday I stayed at Ish to sleep and detox with water and tea. I think it helps to detox every once in a while, in general and especially as a traveler. Clears the pipes, y’know? Also, I’ve turned into an avid lover of Pepto Bismol chewables. And I can say that without shame because I’m 99% sure my entire group feels the same way, hahaha.
On the subject of being TMI, I should also mention an interesting cultural difference I discovered. Ghanaian men like it when women don’t shave their legs. They LIKE the fur. Or at least, they don’t mind it. In light of this newfound fact, guess what I started doing (or, not doing). Did I seize the opportunity to grow manleg fuzz in a context where it’s socially acceptable? Yes. Do I hate myself every time I look down to see the forest on my calves glowing in the sunlight? Yes. Thank you, Russian genes. I made a bet with my groupmate, Brian, that by the end of the six weeks my legs will rival his. (Enjoy that mental image...) I haven’t broken yet, but I saw a girl in the supermarket today who has clearly been au naturale for a while and I cringed. I saw myself in her legs... Don’t worry though, shaving will be the very last thing I do in Ghana before leaving. (Gare, you’ll have to find a new reason to divorce me ;) )
Anyway, on Tuesday I wasn't completely better, but I felt well enough to go to my Social Service Delivery Systems class, where Dr. Boateng prepped us for our field trip to the West African AIDS Foundation we would be taking the following day. Next to poverty and genocide, AIDS is another one of those funny words that tends to come to mind any time someone mentions Africa, yet I was taken aback during our discussion how little I actually know about the concern about AIDS here. But I’ll go into detail about that in Wednesday’s shpiel.
Till then, nante yie!
Gabi
2 and 3 Jun
On Monday and Tuesday, I finally pulled the short straw. Woke up the first morning with my stomach ripping itself to shreds. Actually, I am amazed that I made it even halfway through this trip without getting sick like some of my other groupmates did. As much as I like the food here (I’m strangely content eating rice every day), I can’t help but feel like all the carbs, starches, and lack of vegetables are ruining my body. So, all day Monday I stayed at Ish to sleep and detox with water and tea. I think it helps to detox every once in a while, in general and especially as a traveler. Clears the pipes, y’know? Also, I’ve turned into an avid lover of Pepto Bismol chewables. And I can say that without shame because I’m 99% sure my entire group feels the same way, hahaha.
On the subject of being TMI, I should also mention an interesting cultural difference I discovered. Ghanaian men like it when women don’t shave their legs. They LIKE the fur. Or at least, they don’t mind it. In light of this newfound fact, guess what I started doing (or, not doing). Did I seize the opportunity to grow manleg fuzz in a context where it’s socially acceptable? Yes. Do I hate myself every time I look down to see the forest on my calves glowing in the sunlight? Yes. Thank you, Russian genes. I made a bet with my groupmate, Brian, that by the end of the six weeks my legs will rival his. (Enjoy that mental image...) I haven’t broken yet, but I saw a girl in the supermarket today who has clearly been au naturale for a while and I cringed. I saw myself in her legs... Don’t worry though, shaving will be the very last thing I do in Ghana before leaving. (Gare, you’ll have to find a new reason to divorce me ;) )
Anyway, on Tuesday I wasn't completely better, but I felt well enough to go to my Social Service Delivery Systems class, where Dr. Boateng prepped us for our field trip to the West African AIDS Foundation we would be taking the following day. Next to poverty and genocide, AIDS is another one of those funny words that tends to come to mind any time someone mentions Africa, yet I was taken aback during our discussion how little I actually know about the concern about AIDS here. But I’ll go into detail about that in Wednesday’s shpiel.
Till then, nante yie!
Gabi
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Weekend photo-journey: Kumasi!
Day 20, 21, 22
29 June - 1 July
Annnd, we're back folks! This weekend was one of our two optional group trips in which we had the opportunity to travel up north toward the heart of Ghana to Kumasi, the ancient capital city of the Ashanti (or Asante) region. The Asante nation was once the major ruling population in Ghana and its traditional culture is still very much a presence here, albeit blended with modernity. Just prior to European colonization, they had developed a large and powerful empire in West Africa.
On Friday, our first stop (of which I have no photos to share because my camera died on the dumpy six hour bus ride there) was the Manhyia Palace Museum. It was a brief tour, but it covered a lot of history. Before being converted into a museum much later, the palace was originally built in 1925 to be the residence and office for the 13th and 14th Asante kings, Prempeh I and II. Both kings, but especially Prempeh I, ruled during a time of much unrest and interaction between the Asante and the British who were working to further colonize the area. We toured this fascinating landmark, filled to the brim with preserved artifacts, creepily lifelike wax figures of previous kings and queen mothers, and even working appliances from a dying age of ruling African kings. I wish I could go into detail about the extensive history, but there was only so much I could pile into my little head at the time. Still, I am continually amazed by how much this area has transformed in the last hundred years. [Note to self to look into African studies when I return to UNR...]
We had scarce time to do much else after the tour, so we headed to dinner and then to our hotel, which had not only water that was running but was also HOT. Hot water! This weekend, I enjoyed my first hot bath in what feels like ages. The things we take for granted, I swear it. It felt like royalty. I commanded that dirt to get outta here better than Napoleon commanded the French.
The next day, we got an early start to visit three nearby craftsman villages:
Bonwire, known for the weaving of the luxurious kente cloth.
Ntonso, where Adinkra symbols are screenprinted on kente cloth with special dye made from tree bark.
And Ahwiaa, the woodcarvers' village.
After stamping my cloth, I was invited to try my hand at weaving kente!
Right when I gave my camera over to Adelaide to take my picture, this
cutie pie came over asking if he could be her model. I MEAN, LOOK AT THAT FACE.
So, I didn't take any photos at the woodcarver's village because, in all honesty, I didn't see any craftsman who were carving the wood, only people selling the finished product! In any event, I bought some VERY special gifts for some certain special people ;)
After visiting the three villages, we ended our day at the cultural center, which is at the heart of the largest market in West Africa. I don't think I have to tell you how tired I was of shopping at that point. While bartering can be playful and fun in short spurts, an entire day of being pulled (verbally and sometimes physically!) left and right into people's shops left me feeling very overwhelmed, on top of the fact that I am not too skilled of a bargainer. Personally, it was difficult at times not to assume the worst of sellers who I felt were taking advantage of me for being a foreigner. With that said, I can't hold it against them for doing what they can to make a living. That's the nature of a free market after all... one can take it or leave it. Overall, I feel content with the fruits of my labor, which were mostly souvenirs for friends back home.
Finally, we spent Sunday making a trip out to take a boat tour of Lake Bosomtwe, the largest natural lake in the area. In fact, the lake fills an ancient meteorite impact crater in the middle of the rainforest, which has lent it distinct ecological characteristics. There are many interesting questions that surround it, like how in the world did fish come to live in it? However they did, the native Ghanaians are thankful for it! About 30 villages have made their home and subsistence around this lake, and it is considered to be sacred by the Ashanti people. I really admired the fact that funds raised by tourism at Lake Bosomtwe are used to protect and preserve it due to environmental concerns. Their current project is to replenish the tree population that has previously faced deforesting.
29 June - 1 July
Annnd, we're back folks! This weekend was one of our two optional group trips in which we had the opportunity to travel up north toward the heart of Ghana to Kumasi, the ancient capital city of the Ashanti (or Asante) region. The Asante nation was once the major ruling population in Ghana and its traditional culture is still very much a presence here, albeit blended with modernity. Just prior to European colonization, they had developed a large and powerful empire in West Africa.
On Friday, our first stop (of which I have no photos to share because my camera died on the dumpy six hour bus ride there) was the Manhyia Palace Museum. It was a brief tour, but it covered a lot of history. Before being converted into a museum much later, the palace was originally built in 1925 to be the residence and office for the 13th and 14th Asante kings, Prempeh I and II. Both kings, but especially Prempeh I, ruled during a time of much unrest and interaction between the Asante and the British who were working to further colonize the area. We toured this fascinating landmark, filled to the brim with preserved artifacts, creepily lifelike wax figures of previous kings and queen mothers, and even working appliances from a dying age of ruling African kings. I wish I could go into detail about the extensive history, but there was only so much I could pile into my little head at the time. Still, I am continually amazed by how much this area has transformed in the last hundred years. [Note to self to look into African studies when I return to UNR...]
We had scarce time to do much else after the tour, so we headed to dinner and then to our hotel, which had not only water that was running but was also HOT. Hot water! This weekend, I enjoyed my first hot bath in what feels like ages. The things we take for granted, I swear it. It felt like royalty. I commanded that dirt to get outta here better than Napoleon commanded the French.
The next day, we got an early start to visit three nearby craftsman villages:
Bonwire, known for the weaving of the luxurious kente cloth.
Ntonso, where Adinkra symbols are screenprinted on kente cloth with special dye made from tree bark.
And Ahwiaa, the woodcarvers' village.
The inside of the kente weaver's shop. The set up is awfully complex-looking!
...which seems to suit what a complex, time-consuming process kente cloth-making truly is.
Putting their work on display for us.
I can't handle how many adorable dogs we see running around everywhere! I just want to fluff their disease/flea-ridden fur.
No, it's not just your eyes, that's Obama screenprinted on the yellow and white strips of cloth at the bottom of the photo. Either this village gets a lot of American tourists or Ghanaians really like Obama. I'm sensing a hint of both ;)
Our village guide, Peter, showing us the process of making the gorgeous black dye for screenprinting. I would love to meet the person who looked at a tree and thought, "I bet I can make ink out of that."
The first step is to mash the bark with a giant mortar and pestle!
Then, you heat the bark over the fire until it releases its juices. The more you take the juice and heat it, the more it reduces into what you see at the bottom of the photo: thick, black goopy dye!
Stamping my first Adinkra symbol! Each symbol has a significant meaning. I chose the Alligator, unique for how it lives life in the water, yet it breathes air. When I read that description, it reminded me of how in the Bible, Jesus encourages His followers to essentially "live in the world, yet be not of the world." Though some Christians may interpret this as segregating oneself from those who have objections to your views, I believe the idea was intended to encourage us to live with and for one another, while setting our sight on Christ and our identity in Him. Sometimes (okay, often, haha) I forget that I'm not here to live my life for myself.
The process involves both hands AND feet. I felt kind of like a human spider!
So, I didn't take any photos at the woodcarver's village because, in all honesty, I didn't see any craftsman who were carving the wood, only people selling the finished product! In any event, I bought some VERY special gifts for some certain special people ;)
After visiting the three villages, we ended our day at the cultural center, which is at the heart of the largest market in West Africa. I don't think I have to tell you how tired I was of shopping at that point. While bartering can be playful and fun in short spurts, an entire day of being pulled (verbally and sometimes physically!) left and right into people's shops left me feeling very overwhelmed, on top of the fact that I am not too skilled of a bargainer. Personally, it was difficult at times not to assume the worst of sellers who I felt were taking advantage of me for being a foreigner. With that said, I can't hold it against them for doing what they can to make a living. That's the nature of a free market after all... one can take it or leave it. Overall, I feel content with the fruits of my labor, which were mostly souvenirs for friends back home.
Finally, we spent Sunday making a trip out to take a boat tour of Lake Bosomtwe, the largest natural lake in the area. In fact, the lake fills an ancient meteorite impact crater in the middle of the rainforest, which has lent it distinct ecological characteristics. There are many interesting questions that surround it, like how in the world did fish come to live in it? However they did, the native Ghanaians are thankful for it! About 30 villages have made their home and subsistence around this lake, and it is considered to be sacred by the Ashanti people. I really admired the fact that funds raised by tourism at Lake Bosomtwe are used to protect and preserve it due to environmental concerns. Their current project is to replenish the tree population that has previously faced deforesting.
Do you see that floating plastic bottle toward the bottom of the photo? When we first got on the boat, we saw TONS of floating plastic bottles, which of course made us flip a biscuit about how terrible that there is so much trash in the lake... To which our tour guide informed us that the bottles are actually improvised fishing traps! Talk about a surface level judgement, haha. Woops!
Jesus-like fishing methods include floating on wooden planks!
This photo was really candid, but I wanted to show off some of the gorgeous traditional style clothing that Ghanians wear for special events. These women were actually on their way to a funeral. I love that they are wearing both black and white! Seems a bit more uplifting than straight black. Not that it would ever make a difference to my deceased self, but I'd love it if people wore bright colors at my funeral. Why perpetuate sadness more than we do already, yeah??
It was a long journey home, but we made it there hands fuller and pockets emptier than when we left... I call it a successful weekend!
Nante yie,
Nante yie,
Gabi
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