Village stay -complete!!
It's hard to believe that the village say is over. I don't even know where to begin describing the second portion of the village stay and all the thoughts and emotions that are going through my mind right now. We only left Monday morning, and already it seems so long ago so I'm going to try to get some stuff down now. Once settled in Accra though I'll be going through my journal and revisiting the village stay - so apologies in advance if this is kind of jumbled and incoherent - it's simply a reflection of my current mid-transition state of mind.
Going back to the village after retreat was a lot easier than I thought it would be. The kids especially seemed happy to have me back - though that may have been because I brought them candy. About a week in, I was writing a letter to my sister, and when I started writing about how homesick I was I realized...I wasn't. It dawned on me that I was comfortable in my village. Sure, there were things that frustrated me, and stressed me out. But the anxiety was gone. And with it that burning desire to just be home again - something which I hadn't really realized was fading. It was like I was homesick out of habit....and its not to say the homesickness stopped; but its was (and is) no longer such a dominant feeling.
This realization was amazing. Being able to let go of my own stuff really opened me up to what was going in the village. I feel like I was able to do a lot more reflecting on the village, my family situation, the cocoa industry, and poverty in general. I didn't actually do a lot of farming while I was back. When I arrived, my family was in the drying portion of the cocoa production cycle so my host father was not going to farm. Rather, he stayed home, and each morning opened up the racks in compound where the cocoa was being dried, mixing it with his hands and overseeing the process. I would mostly sit out with him and the other family members and chat, or read, and greet people on the road. I also spend a day sitting at the shop with my sister, mostly just waiting and greeting people - though I did sell a couple of pure water sachets. The next couple of weeks, when my father started going to the farm I was sick - just a throat infection but I had a fever, so I had to go to the hospital. My host father pretty much insisted I go right away because here, a fever means malaria. I was ok, though they treated me for malaria juts in case - but I still had to rest, and once I was better I had to go in to visit a group member who was hospitalized with malaria. With people getting sick, and meetings, and renewing visas I only actually went back to the farm once - for another cocoa pod breaking day. It wasn't as big a day as the previous one; fewer people and not as festive an atmosphere. Somehow I ended up being the "baby nurse"; watching over my baby brother Gabrielle and holding him while our host mother prepared food.
The days when my host father was traveling or farming I would stay home with my host mother. She seems like a really sweet woman. I like her too because she would help me out, like help me get everything together to do my laundry - but then she'd leave me to my own devices instead of insisting on doing everything for me. It was a nice break from having everything done for me and the feeling of lack of control that went along with that. I did realize though, with help from my group, that families here often function based on an age hierarchy. yes, I was being served food and brought things by my younger siblings - but so were all the adults; and the younger siblings do things for the older siblings. So, I tried to let that appease my guilt at times when I wasn't allowed to help and to accept that having younger siblings carry things for me and bring me my food was actually part of me being included in the family system, since I was the oldest sibling living at home. I did manage to kind of wiggle my way down the hierarchy though by hanging out with my 15 year old sister Barbara. I cooked with her a few times, and even tried my hand at pounding fufu - which is a work out and a half. I even convinced her to eat with me - first at the same table, and then sharing our food. It's amazing how much that made me feel like part of the family - especially since Godfred and the twins eventually started sitting with us too. (BTW, the twins; names are actually Theodora and Dora, though they go by Pani (Penny) and Kakra....or in my mind Fred and George). I never would have thought I'd feel this way, but I ended up really appreciating have younger siblings to hang out with. It was a lot easier in some ways that hanging out with adult, just because they were more chill. They arranged Twi lessons for me, bringing out a blackboard and everything, teaching me food and common phrases and even giving me tests. I also learned a few Ghanaian clapping games, and a board game called Ludoo which is kind of like Sorry or Parchisis but I will never fully understand since a) is complicated b) they never really explained the rules and expected me to pick up as we played and c) they constantly cheated at so I never knew what was a rule and what was just them doing whatever. Those kids are awesome though, and I know I'm going to miss them a lot.
Because my family was pretty well off, I feel like in some ways I didn't achieve the goals I wanted in terms of really living in poverty and understanding what that's like. There were certainly adjustments in my standards of hygiene and comfort, but certainly not what I expected and certainly not what others in the village experience. Though I have seen poverty close up, I still feel like I'm seeing it from an outside view. I've tried though to stll take what I can from the whole experience, and it honestly has made me rethink things like "want" and "need" and to evaluate my living standards at home and what I consider to be enough. Here are a couple journal exerpts which kind of show some of my reflections on village life....
What is enough? The first few weeks I felt I did not have enough; food variety, running water, hygiene, convenience, entertainment - plus things like sense of purpose or support system. Yet as time's gone on I've realized - I do have enough. My family here may not have everything I do - and I want more for them, and I know there's more they want for themselves. Yet they are not desperately poor. They are healthy, educated, have affordable clean water, good food, shelter. They work hard, they have fun - they do have enough, don't they? This may not be representative of all Ghanaians or all the families in my village - in fact, I know its not. Yet it's made me rethink what "enough" is. If my family in Ghana has "enough" than what do I have in Canada? More than enough, for sure. Too much? maybe. It's hard to want things so badly now that I've come to the realization that I can live pretty comfortably without a lot less. Part of me wishes I had been able to spend more time with the poorer families in my village; to reevaluate further what is want and what is need. For my own personal growth and the way I think about stuff. I think this experience and realization will make it harder to justify buying things I know I don't need - and to step back and reevaluate the true costs of what I use or buy - be it water, clothes, food, entertainment. I know ween I come home old habits with return. I can only try to keep this experience in mind when returning to the world of North American Consumerism and struggle to live simply; making sure that I have enough, and that anything extra comes at a reasonable cost - to myself, the environment and society.
...
Being here has made me much more aware of how I live. Just being in Nkawkaw and showering made me think about how much water I use - and what its like to have to pump and carry home all the water I use in the bath, and over the course of the day. Everything I throw away, never to think about again makes me think of the small dump behind the house and the garbage fires my family burns. Seeing that garbage on my families property, around their home makes me much more aware and even ashamed of every package, water bag, empty pill bottle. We get away with so much in Canada - at least, in my city and class - and it's so easy to ignore the effects of our actions on the environment and the amount we consume because we never really have to see so many of the consequences. I hope this awareness stays with me - even as I also hope it doesn't. Secretly I wish I could continue to enjoy oppullence without any guilt. In a way, being here make me question how we in the west can live with so much, benefiting from economic systems which keep others living with less. Yet i am also more aware of why we do continue to live this way, maintaining the privileges which allow us so much comfort, convenience and wealth. It can be so easy to justify, and so hard to sacrifice. And I really don't have any answers on how to fix it all anyway. I hope I can hold myself accountable for my lifestyle without being paralyzed by guilt. Most of all I hope I never fall into the trap of thinking I know enough to decide what those in the majority world need or deserve, without questioning what I myself need or deserve. Because its easy to say certain families here have "enough" but that also doesn't mean they don't want or deserve more. And just because I'm used to a certain way of life, doens't mean I deserve it anymore than those who've never experienced it. I wish we all had the same opportunities and the same desire for balance. But that's not the case.
My host sister has asked me to buy her a laptop before I left. I explained that laptops are expensive and that I'm only a student so I don't have much money. I also explained (probably to appease my own guilt) that it wouldn't work in Ghana, because Canadian outlets are different. It really brought a lot home though. Because I know I will not buy her a laptop. Yet I also know that I will never give up my laptop. To me, that's a need. Yet who am I to decide that she doesn't need one as well? And is it my responsibility to buy her one if it is a need?Trying to reflect on "enough" brings up so many uncomfortable questions about what enough is and how someone from the west (eg me) can possibly decide what enough is for people here. I included these entries anyway, embarassing and naive as they may be though, because I think they represent the struggle that's been going on in my head and heart throughout the village stay. Loving my family, and loving my home in the village, but also knowing that I am returning to my home and all its luxuries. It's hard not to think in "development" mode, and to try not to analyze but just to experience. And I think it's going to be a very long time before I make any kind of sense out of what I've seen and lived and what it means for my lifestyle as well as for any potential career in the development sector.
For now though, I'm on travel time. It's been a shock going from village stay to tourist mode. Right now, I'm proud of myself for the personal growth I experienced in terms of being able to live away from my family and outside my comfort zone and to get to a place where homesickness ebbed as much as is has. I'm also trying not to be too hard on myself for not having new and deep insights and to realize that the village stay it one part of my experience, one part of my life and that it was never going to give me any answers - just more questions. And that's not a bad thing.
For now, I'm travelling so I'll update when I can! Hopefully I also get more opportunities to reflect on my village time and to relate more stories and struggles and feelings. Try not to judge me to harshly - it's hard when you're in the middle of it all trying to make sense.
Merry Christmas to everyone!!!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Retreat in (to?) Nkawkaw
It's also been really nice to have internet, and to be able to blog and e-mail and call home. It's crazy to think that the next chunk of time is going to be 4 full weeks - from Monday to December 19th. Then we have travel time, and will be going up to Tamale to volunteer with an organization that provides a free Christmas dinner to the community. Not sure where else we'll decide to go during that chunk of time, but the truth is, this might be the last blog I post for quite some time :( In mid January I'll start my work placement in Accra, and should have semi-regular internet access again. Thanks for reading!!
Love,
Jacqueline
White Girl's Burden
So, two weeks ago I guess, on my second full day in the village, I was taken to a wedding in Kumasi. My host father had mentioned he was going to his eldest sons wedding, but didn't make it clear that I would be going with him - ohhh, communication. So Saturday morning, 5:30am I was trying to figure out what the heck I was supposed to wear to a wedding - considering I had packed for life on the farm. I also hadn't realized that my pink blouse - my "nice" top, was considered too red for a wedding (red is for funerals in Ghana). So out I trotted, no make up, my hair in a school marm bun, wearing a wrinkly green button up, a brown tie dye skirt and those fanciest of shoes - birkenstocks. I looked ridiculous. Especially compared to everyone else, who were dressed to the nines in gorgeous fabrics and super high heels. It made me think about a lot of things - which I had time for given the 2.5 hour drive there, the ceremony which was in Twi and I didn't understand, and then the 2.5 hour ride back. On one hand, I was humiliated just to be there, some stranger and this couple's wedding, who had met the groom's father two days before. Then there was my outfit, which I wouldn't have been caught dead in at a Canadian bar, never mind a wedding. On top of that was my realization that I had thought the clothes I brought were good enough for life with a Ghanaian family in a village. Even my church clothes were not that fancy, because I though; well, it's not important, they're poor right? (I mean, not so brashly...but that was the underlying assumption). Here I am, this liberal thinking, International Development student, and I felt like a jerk for not realizing that even African peasants have nice clothes and take pride in their appearance. I did appreciate the irony of realizing that, among the wedding attendees, if I had to pick the poorest person based solely on appearance I would have picked me. Good lesson in humility, if nothing else.
So, that's hard. It's hard to realize you've assumed certain things about people and places. It's hard too to feel so little control over your appearance when you're so noticeable - which white people are in Ghana, just because there are not that many. I guess I should preface this section by saying....I know that whatever racism or racialism I experience in Ghana, it is nothing compared to what so, so many other people have experienced here, and all over the world. I'm acutely aware that a lot of my issues with race are frustrations which, when I return to Canada, will all but disappear. So I don't claim to know what it's like to live day in and day out your whole life with the colour of your skin being the first thing people see - I don't. But I do want to share a little bit about what it's been like for me, and how I have become a lot more aware of my racial identity since coming to a place where I am not longer a part of the racial "majority". I don't think it's something you can really understand until you've experienced it - I know I didn't. For all I've studied about race theory, and for all the research I've done on representations of race and racial performativity I never really knew what it was to truly identify with a racial identity. Yes, I knew I was white, obviously, and I knew what that meant - mostly it meant a guilty feeling; also closely linked to my identity as an ID student - one of the great inheritors of colonialism. But it's easy in Canada to forget that you're white. It's not easy to forget that in Ghana. As we walk down the street, children's and even adults will shout "Obruni!" (white man) sometimes followed by requests for money, a nonsense song, or declarations of love and friendship. I've been pet - literally pet by children, who tend to follow me around like I'm the pied piper. It's amazing how a word like that - a word that doesn't have malevolent connotations, and is for the most part called playfully rather than maliciously - can still really start to get to you. I'm already so tired of being addressed as "Obruni" rather than "Jacqueline"; feeling as though my entire identity here is based upon my being white. It's amazing too the surge of connection I feel when I see another white person on the street or at an internet cafe - sometimes we'll call Obruni, or they will and we'll smile...or I'll look away awkwardly and ignore them, feeling an immediate sense of guilt that I want to speak to these people, to know them just because they're white. It's ridiculous. But there it is.
Getting back to the wedding...there I was, pretty much mortified by my presence and my appearance...and then my host father tells me I'm going to have my picture taken with the happy couple. So I'm in some of their wedding pictures - again, even though going up to get them taken was the first time I was introduced to them. At a certain point I was also called up to be part of the wedding table for the brief reception and passing around of cake. I tried to ignore it for a bit while they were calling, pretending I didn't realize "Sister Jacqueline" was me...until an usher came and escorted me up to my seat. Again, there was just so much discomfort around being there and standing out, and being treated like some kind of honoured guest. I was also embarrassed because I felt like a big deal was being made of me being there by other people...and I didn't want anyone else - anyone who saw white people differently perhaps, to think that I thought I deserved to be made such a fuss of. And again, it's a constant debate in my head - is this because everyone was trying to make me feel like a welcome part of the family? Then why were none of the groom's real siblings given the same treatment? Is this really just because I'm white, or from the west?
So those are some of my thoughts on race so far - and I realize they may seem offensive, or weird, or overly sensitive and I feel odd just posting this. But it's a big part of my experience so far so I feel like it's important to share. It's a struggle to make sense of it all, so I hope you all realize that. A lot of frustration comes simply from being identified as "obruni", and also not being able to communicate with a lot of the people in the village who call me that. This adds to the feelings of identity loss and isolation which also simply come from being in a new community - where I can't communicate very well and therefore have very little control over how I'm seen. It's tough too to sit somewhere and hear others talking....only understanding one world..."obruni"...and knowing it's about you...but not knowing what's being said. Despite being put on a pedestal, I often also feel like a running joke; someone who gets talked about, and laughed at when I try to speak. It's time's like these I wish I had a perception filter, so I could just escape notice, the way I usually do. It's also times like this I realize no matter how big my celebrity crushes, I never want to marry Daniel Radcliffe - the attention would just be too much.
With all these thoughts running through my head, I've also been thinking a lot about "the gaze"; how those who look have power over those who are looked at. I have never felt so looked at, and yet also such a lack of control over how those people looking at me are seeing me. It's another way in which this experience is helping me understand academic work I've done in the past. I've also been thinking about gender a lot - gender roles, yes; but also about my own gender. I'm constantly referred to as a "white man" and to be honest, the first couple of times I was confused as to who people were referring to (you know, because I'm a woman). Add to this my scruffy clothes, my lack of make up....and yes, even the fact that my period has been irregular. I feel like Maureen Smalls; struggling with how to reconcile my whiteness and my femininity and figure out just how I'm supposed to perform both when I've been dropped into a foreign culture. On one hand, it's very freeing - not to worry so much about being beautiful, being attractive. Even after the wedding, I told myself and others told me "it doesn't matter, you're white, they'll like you anyway". How awful is that? But a lot of the time it's true. I've never had so many marriage proposals, and I also feel I've never looked frumpier. So. Yeah. I don't know how to wrap this up. Basically, gender and race are confusing. And maybe, no matter how much we think we know about it, until our circumstances change we don't realize to what extent how we perceive race and gender are based on our own cultural and social contexts. It's a struggle too because these are things that - whether we like to admit it or not - form a large part of our identities. I'm saying our a lot, and I should say my. I think in the long run this awareness is important and will do me good. These feelings and struggles are part of the reason this trip is so important to me.
So, that's hard. It's hard to realize you've assumed certain things about people and places. It's hard too to feel so little control over your appearance when you're so noticeable - which white people are in Ghana, just because there are not that many. I guess I should preface this section by saying....I know that whatever racism or racialism I experience in Ghana, it is nothing compared to what so, so many other people have experienced here, and all over the world. I'm acutely aware that a lot of my issues with race are frustrations which, when I return to Canada, will all but disappear. So I don't claim to know what it's like to live day in and day out your whole life with the colour of your skin being the first thing people see - I don't. But I do want to share a little bit about what it's been like for me, and how I have become a lot more aware of my racial identity since coming to a place where I am not longer a part of the racial "majority". I don't think it's something you can really understand until you've experienced it - I know I didn't. For all I've studied about race theory, and for all the research I've done on representations of race and racial performativity I never really knew what it was to truly identify with a racial identity. Yes, I knew I was white, obviously, and I knew what that meant - mostly it meant a guilty feeling; also closely linked to my identity as an ID student - one of the great inheritors of colonialism. But it's easy in Canada to forget that you're white. It's not easy to forget that in Ghana. As we walk down the street, children's and even adults will shout "Obruni!" (white man) sometimes followed by requests for money, a nonsense song, or declarations of love and friendship. I've been pet - literally pet by children, who tend to follow me around like I'm the pied piper. It's amazing how a word like that - a word that doesn't have malevolent connotations, and is for the most part called playfully rather than maliciously - can still really start to get to you. I'm already so tired of being addressed as "Obruni" rather than "Jacqueline"; feeling as though my entire identity here is based upon my being white. It's amazing too the surge of connection I feel when I see another white person on the street or at an internet cafe - sometimes we'll call Obruni, or they will and we'll smile...or I'll look away awkwardly and ignore them, feeling an immediate sense of guilt that I want to speak to these people, to know them just because they're white. It's ridiculous. But there it is.
Getting back to the wedding...there I was, pretty much mortified by my presence and my appearance...and then my host father tells me I'm going to have my picture taken with the happy couple. So I'm in some of their wedding pictures - again, even though going up to get them taken was the first time I was introduced to them. At a certain point I was also called up to be part of the wedding table for the brief reception and passing around of cake. I tried to ignore it for a bit while they were calling, pretending I didn't realize "Sister Jacqueline" was me...until an usher came and escorted me up to my seat. Again, there was just so much discomfort around being there and standing out, and being treated like some kind of honoured guest. I was also embarrassed because I felt like a big deal was being made of me being there by other people...and I didn't want anyone else - anyone who saw white people differently perhaps, to think that I thought I deserved to be made such a fuss of. And again, it's a constant debate in my head - is this because everyone was trying to make me feel like a welcome part of the family? Then why were none of the groom's real siblings given the same treatment? Is this really just because I'm white, or from the west?
So those are some of my thoughts on race so far - and I realize they may seem offensive, or weird, or overly sensitive and I feel odd just posting this. But it's a big part of my experience so far so I feel like it's important to share. It's a struggle to make sense of it all, so I hope you all realize that. A lot of frustration comes simply from being identified as "obruni", and also not being able to communicate with a lot of the people in the village who call me that. This adds to the feelings of identity loss and isolation which also simply come from being in a new community - where I can't communicate very well and therefore have very little control over how I'm seen. It's tough too to sit somewhere and hear others talking....only understanding one world..."obruni"...and knowing it's about you...but not knowing what's being said. Despite being put on a pedestal, I often also feel like a running joke; someone who gets talked about, and laughed at when I try to speak. It's time's like these I wish I had a perception filter, so I could just escape notice, the way I usually do. It's also times like this I realize no matter how big my celebrity crushes, I never want to marry Daniel Radcliffe - the attention would just be too much.
With all these thoughts running through my head, I've also been thinking a lot about "the gaze"; how those who look have power over those who are looked at. I have never felt so looked at, and yet also such a lack of control over how those people looking at me are seeing me. It's another way in which this experience is helping me understand academic work I've done in the past. I've also been thinking about gender a lot - gender roles, yes; but also about my own gender. I'm constantly referred to as a "white man" and to be honest, the first couple of times I was confused as to who people were referring to (you know, because I'm a woman). Add to this my scruffy clothes, my lack of make up....and yes, even the fact that my period has been irregular. I feel like Maureen Smalls; struggling with how to reconcile my whiteness and my femininity and figure out just how I'm supposed to perform both when I've been dropped into a foreign culture. On one hand, it's very freeing - not to worry so much about being beautiful, being attractive. Even after the wedding, I told myself and others told me "it doesn't matter, you're white, they'll like you anyway". How awful is that? But a lot of the time it's true. I've never had so many marriage proposals, and I also feel I've never looked frumpier. So. Yeah. I don't know how to wrap this up. Basically, gender and race are confusing. And maybe, no matter how much we think we know about it, until our circumstances change we don't realize to what extent how we perceive race and gender are based on our own cultural and social contexts. It's a struggle too because these are things that - whether we like to admit it or not - form a large part of our identities. I'm saying our a lot, and I should say my. I think in the long run this awareness is important and will do me good. These feelings and struggles are part of the reason this trip is so important to me.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Take Your Obruni to Work Week
My host father, Anass, owns a cocoa farm, which is his main way of earning income. It's fairly big - I want to say 8 Acres, but I could be totally off on that....suffice to say it's huge. I went farming with him my second day in the village, and have been going with him almost every day that he's gone back - usually it's every week day, but it depends where things are in the cocoa producing schedule. That first day was a bit of a shock - I'm not sure what I expected a cocoa farm to look like....i knew there would be trees...yet somehow I was still surprised to find myself standing in what appeared to be a rain forest on the side of a mountain, teeming with insects, giant green and yellow cocoa pods hanging everywhere. That week was a harvesting week, so a picker was going around, cutting the pods from the tree using a large pole with a blade on the end of it. My host father then went around, using his machete to pick the pods off the ground and fling them into piles, with just a flick. He then has three women who he hires to come around and gather these smaller piles into bigger piles - three total. These women carry gigantic baskets of these cocoa pods on their head, down inclines, up inclines, through trees - they're amazing. It felt like hard work just following Anass around taking pictures and asking questions...granted, this is coming from a girl who's idea of physical labour is having her Fable character chop wood between quests, but I'm super impressed for the amount of work that goes into the harvesting process. This is all after a 35 minutes hike through the forest to the cocoa farm as well, so, keeping that all in mind. One thing that also struck me is that my host father, and host siblings when the come to help, all wear rubber boots, long pants and long sleeves to protect themselves from snakes (that can kill you) and from poisonous insects (which I don't think can kill you, but still suck). The women who work for him, however, wear shorts and either flip flops or bare feet. I'm not sure if this is by choice, or if it's because they can't afford them....my host father has told me that they are poor and they get 5 Ghana cedis a day for their work...which doesn't seem like a whole lot, especially considering one of the women has eleven children. A lot of the past couple of weeks has been like that; I'll notice things, and wonder, and sometimes ask indirect questions, but I'm still getting comfortable enough with my family and community to really ask about a lot of them. I'm intrigued, concerned, but also wary of making judgements or assumptions. And so the mystery of the footwear remains...
So that was Friday. We went back on Monday and Tuesday, doing the same kind of thing, but with my host sister Lydia helping as she was home from boarding school. On Tuesday my host father also gathered contombre leaves (leaves from the coco yams, which grow on the farm), and dug up some yams (which was an intense process) and Lydia made us yams and stew on a fire pit right there on the farm - and it was AMAZINGLY good. A lot of the food my family eats - yams, plantains, bananas, contombre - comes from the farm. I think it's really cool that the cash crop doesn't totally negate any form of subsistence farming (though they definitely also buy a lot of food). Anyway, by that point, I was able to help pile the pods (not with a machete, just with my hands) and also to help the women fill their baskets. Not a huge help I'm sure, but small steps. Maybe one day I'll be able to carry a basket of them on my head...maybe.
Once most of the membranes were removed, Anass covered the piles in Banana leaves so they could ferment for a few days. That meant the next couple of days were breaks from farming. Monday they started bringing the beans to the compound to dry them out for another few days - but on Monday I left for retreat, so that's all I've seen so far.
Anass is super proud of his cocoa farm - it's size, and it's productivity. He's part of a coop type association which provides him with inputs - fertilizer, fungicide and pesticide on credit. He's been telling me all about these inputs, and their effect on the farm; pointing out black pod disease, and showing me the insects that eat the cocoa...even telling me how to cut the canopy so that the sun can get through, and which plants to keep on the farm and which ones to get rid of. In some ways I feel like I'm training to start my own plantation back in Canada - but again, what gets me is his pride in the amount of work he's put into his farm (started in 1985) and what he's gotten out of it. He also acts as a buyer for this association, so all day long local cocoa farmers come to weight and sell their cocoa - for which they get a fixed price, decided by the government. Since November's a huge harvest month, the house is full of bags of cocoa, waiting to be taken to Tema, and then, as Anass says "to Canada, to be made into chocolate bars and milo". I haven't told him that we don't have milo in Canada....but you get the idea.
So that's my cocoa farming experience so far. My first impressions are - it's hard work. Really hard work. And Anass seems to be really serious about working hard and improving his farm, which I really admire. He's also told me that cocoa farming is a particularly lucrative business - because unlike some other crops, you can harvest at least some of it all year round. It certainly seems more profitable than working as a farm labourer...which is usually the case. Walking around my village I recognize that my family is one of the wealthiest families - based on the size of their house, their clothes, their TV, and the fact that all the kids go to school (the ones who are old enough).
So, that's what I've seen so far. I know that there's a lot more to know, learn, see and uncover - and I hope this blog doesn't give false impressions. I'm acutely aware that as I take notes and pictures, and as I e-mail and blog, that I'm interpreting everything through my own perceptions and assumptions - through my western gaze. I'm doing my best to share my experience with you all - yet I feel mildly uncomfortable about it - like I'm not able to do my family justice; nor my village; nor Ghana. Because how could I? So, this is just a disclaimer - I'm aware that these blogs are foll of bias, assumptions, filters and misinterpretations and it's important to keep that in mind. But there it is.
Tomorrow I'll put up pictures - I have a lot of the cocoa farm! Also, stay tuned for more on "the gaze" and to hear about my experience attending a Ghanaian wedding! (In Birkenstocks no less).
So that was Friday. We went back on Monday and Tuesday, doing the same kind of thing, but with my host sister Lydia helping as she was home from boarding school. On Tuesday my host father also gathered contombre leaves (leaves from the coco yams, which grow on the farm), and dug up some yams (which was an intense process) and Lydia made us yams and stew on a fire pit right there on the farm - and it was AMAZINGLY good. A lot of the food my family eats - yams, plantains, bananas, contombre - comes from the farm. I think it's really cool that the cash crop doesn't totally negate any form of subsistence farming (though they definitely also buy a lot of food). Anyway, by that point, I was able to help pile the pods (not with a machete, just with my hands) and also to help the women fill their baskets. Not a huge help I'm sure, but small steps. Maybe one day I'll be able to carry a basket of them on my head...maybe.
Once most of the membranes were removed, Anass covered the piles in Banana leaves so they could ferment for a few days. That meant the next couple of days were breaks from farming. Monday they started bringing the beans to the compound to dry them out for another few days - but on Monday I left for retreat, so that's all I've seen so far.
Anass is super proud of his cocoa farm - it's size, and it's productivity. He's part of a coop type association which provides him with inputs - fertilizer, fungicide and pesticide on credit. He's been telling me all about these inputs, and their effect on the farm; pointing out black pod disease, and showing me the insects that eat the cocoa...even telling me how to cut the canopy so that the sun can get through, and which plants to keep on the farm and which ones to get rid of. In some ways I feel like I'm training to start my own plantation back in Canada - but again, what gets me is his pride in the amount of work he's put into his farm (started in 1985) and what he's gotten out of it. He also acts as a buyer for this association, so all day long local cocoa farmers come to weight and sell their cocoa - for which they get a fixed price, decided by the government. Since November's a huge harvest month, the house is full of bags of cocoa, waiting to be taken to Tema, and then, as Anass says "to Canada, to be made into chocolate bars and milo". I haven't told him that we don't have milo in Canada....but you get the idea.
So that's my cocoa farming experience so far. My first impressions are - it's hard work. Really hard work. And Anass seems to be really serious about working hard and improving his farm, which I really admire. He's also told me that cocoa farming is a particularly lucrative business - because unlike some other crops, you can harvest at least some of it all year round. It certainly seems more profitable than working as a farm labourer...which is usually the case. Walking around my village I recognize that my family is one of the wealthiest families - based on the size of their house, their clothes, their TV, and the fact that all the kids go to school (the ones who are old enough).
So, that's what I've seen so far. I know that there's a lot more to know, learn, see and uncover - and I hope this blog doesn't give false impressions. I'm acutely aware that as I take notes and pictures, and as I e-mail and blog, that I'm interpreting everything through my own perceptions and assumptions - through my western gaze. I'm doing my best to share my experience with you all - yet I feel mildly uncomfortable about it - like I'm not able to do my family justice; nor my village; nor Ghana. Because how could I? So, this is just a disclaimer - I'm aware that these blogs are foll of bias, assumptions, filters and misinterpretations and it's important to keep that in mind. But there it is.
Tomorrow I'll put up pictures - I have a lot of the cocoa farm! Also, stay tuned for more on "the gaze" and to hear about my experience attending a Ghanaian wedding! (In Birkenstocks no less).
Blog!
I've been putting this off because a) my internet time has been limited and b) I've been doing so much journaling and reflecting that I kind of needed a break! But I've been in Nkawkaw since Monday, and it's not Friday so time is running out! I plan to do three blog entries while I'm here...this first one is just a quick update; to be followed by 2 more in depth ones tonight, and tomorrow.
So, on Monday we travelled to Nkawkaw for our first retreat, after spending our first 10 days in the villages. My village is called Wisi Wisi and it's very small. It's fairly close to Nkawkaw, and also close to a larger village called Penkase where my family attends church.
My host father is named Emmanual Anso, and goes by Anass. He speaks english, is a cocoa farmer and is also very religious (Catholic). I also have a host mother, Diane who speaks very little english (it's still better than my Twi). She stays at home most of the time taking care of the kids, cooking and running the family store which is part of our compound. I also have nine sibling; though one I've only met a couple of times (the first time for his wedding - great story, but it has to wait for another post!). He's a teacher in Kumasi, which is about 2-3 hour trotro ride from Nkawkaw. I also forget his name. Then there's Eric, who's 23 and attends boarding school. He's been home though on his midterm break, and speaks english so we've hung out a bit. Next is Lydia, 21, who also attends boarding school and has also been home. She speaks english too, but is much shyer than Eric. We've talked a couple of times mostly at the cocoa farm where she comes to help out. Then Barbara, 14, and really sweet. I think she may have been somehow assigned to look after me since she helps me out a lot...maybe she's just nice though. She lives at home and attends school in Nkawkaw. Then Godfrey - age unknown who either doesn't speak English or is too shy to speak to me (very likely, and understandable). Then the twins, Theodora and I think the other is Deborah -they're seven and strike me as kinda mischievous...but hard to say, since they don't seem to know much English. Then my 3 year old host brother Sendra (or something like that) who mostly runs around in his underpants eating food from plastic bags or crying because a) he has to bath, which he seems to really hate or b) the twins are bugging him. Then little Gabrielle - just over a month. He mostly just lies about crying or giggling. Sometimes I my host mother randomly hands him to me and laughs then walks away...which is...fine. He did pee on me once though - seems to be of little concern to people so whatevs.
So! That's the fam! They live in a compound with the main house (living room and 2 bedrooms), an outhouse attached to the bath enclosure (no running water), a kitchen hut (small and smoky), an extra hut which maybe storage or a guest house, the shop out front and a lot of cocoa! I have my own room, off the patio which is nice and quite a luxury considering the house only has 2 other bedrooms, and one bed in the living room. The family seems well of relative to the village, and my host father has pretty much confirmed that he's considered middle class. The kids all go to school, and are decently well dressed and we get fed really well - in fact, amazingly well. It's all an adjustment - especially the work on the cocoa farm - a description of which will follow in my next installment.
I still have to say though, that the transition of going from the mission house, and from being pretty much constantly with the group to being dropped off in the middle of a Ghanaian family was quite a shock to the system. Despite the amazingness of my host family, (who greeted me by picking me a basket of oranges from one of the compound trees), my first few days were marked by anxiety, loneliness and homesickness. It was tough to have to learn everything from scratch - things like using the bathroom and getting bath water; but also things like family dynamics and good manners. Not knowing the language has also been extremely isolating. I found myself surrounded by this large family, talking, laughing, eating, playing and I was unable to really participate. A particularly difficult moment was realizing that I wasn't to eat with the family - in fact, they don't eat together, but at separate tables depending on age and gender. It made me really homesick for my own family, and for our kitchen table and just that feeling of belonging and relaxing. I had a couple of days of deep panic in which I pretty much concluded that people as shy as myself should never leave the comfort of their own home. But I calmed down a bit, got some support from the group during our weekly meeting, and have been settling in a bit. It's definitely a challenging situation, but it gets easier every day. As I've said my host family is amazing, and they take amazing care of me so I'm extremely grateful for that. As I get my own needs and feelings under control, I know I'll be able to focus even more in immersing myself in Ghanaian life and to learn more and more about my family, my village and this new and exciting country!
I've been putting this off because a) my internet time has been limited and b) I've been doing so much journaling and reflecting that I kind of needed a break! But I've been in Nkawkaw since Monday, and it's not Friday so time is running out! I plan to do three blog entries while I'm here...this first one is just a quick update; to be followed by 2 more in depth ones tonight, and tomorrow.
So, on Monday we travelled to Nkawkaw for our first retreat, after spending our first 10 days in the villages. My village is called Wisi Wisi and it's very small. It's fairly close to Nkawkaw, and also close to a larger village called Penkase where my family attends church.
My host father is named Emmanual Anso, and goes by Anass. He speaks english, is a cocoa farmer and is also very religious (Catholic). I also have a host mother, Diane who speaks very little english (it's still better than my Twi). She stays at home most of the time taking care of the kids, cooking and running the family store which is part of our compound. I also have nine sibling; though one I've only met a couple of times (the first time for his wedding - great story, but it has to wait for another post!). He's a teacher in Kumasi, which is about 2-3 hour trotro ride from Nkawkaw. I also forget his name. Then there's Eric, who's 23 and attends boarding school. He's been home though on his midterm break, and speaks english so we've hung out a bit. Next is Lydia, 21, who also attends boarding school and has also been home. She speaks english too, but is much shyer than Eric. We've talked a couple of times mostly at the cocoa farm where she comes to help out. Then Barbara, 14, and really sweet. I think she may have been somehow assigned to look after me since she helps me out a lot...maybe she's just nice though. She lives at home and attends school in Nkawkaw. Then Godfrey - age unknown who either doesn't speak English or is too shy to speak to me (very likely, and understandable). Then the twins, Theodora and I think the other is Deborah -they're seven and strike me as kinda mischievous...but hard to say, since they don't seem to know much English. Then my 3 year old host brother Sendra (or something like that) who mostly runs around in his underpants eating food from plastic bags or crying because a) he has to bath, which he seems to really hate or b) the twins are bugging him. Then little Gabrielle - just over a month. He mostly just lies about crying or giggling. Sometimes I my host mother randomly hands him to me and laughs then walks away...which is...fine. He did pee on me once though - seems to be of little concern to people so whatevs.
So! That's the fam! They live in a compound with the main house (living room and 2 bedrooms), an outhouse attached to the bath enclosure (no running water), a kitchen hut (small and smoky), an extra hut which maybe storage or a guest house, the shop out front and a lot of cocoa! I have my own room, off the patio which is nice and quite a luxury considering the house only has 2 other bedrooms, and one bed in the living room. The family seems well of relative to the village, and my host father has pretty much confirmed that he's considered middle class. The kids all go to school, and are decently well dressed and we get fed really well - in fact, amazingly well. It's all an adjustment - especially the work on the cocoa farm - a description of which will follow in my next installment.
I still have to say though, that the transition of going from the mission house, and from being pretty much constantly with the group to being dropped off in the middle of a Ghanaian family was quite a shock to the system. Despite the amazingness of my host family, (who greeted me by picking me a basket of oranges from one of the compound trees), my first few days were marked by anxiety, loneliness and homesickness. It was tough to have to learn everything from scratch - things like using the bathroom and getting bath water; but also things like family dynamics and good manners. Not knowing the language has also been extremely isolating. I found myself surrounded by this large family, talking, laughing, eating, playing and I was unable to really participate. A particularly difficult moment was realizing that I wasn't to eat with the family - in fact, they don't eat together, but at separate tables depending on age and gender. It made me really homesick for my own family, and for our kitchen table and just that feeling of belonging and relaxing. I had a couple of days of deep panic in which I pretty much concluded that people as shy as myself should never leave the comfort of their own home. But I calmed down a bit, got some support from the group during our weekly meeting, and have been settling in a bit. It's definitely a challenging situation, but it gets easier every day. As I've said my host family is amazing, and they take amazing care of me so I'm extremely grateful for that. As I get my own needs and feelings under control, I know I'll be able to focus even more in immersing myself in Ghanaian life and to learn more and more about my family, my village and this new and exciting country!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Rains, Plantains, and Growing Pains
Hello! With limited internet time, and slower than usual connections, I've prepared a little blog in advance. Ahem...
I arrived in Nkawkaw one week ago, on what seemed like a somewhat treacherous trotro ride (though praise the skies, the bus had airconditioning!). Kept forgetting which side of the road Ghanaians are supposed to drive on, since it seems to just be whichever has slightly less potholes and no cars coming head on. How many times have I heard tell of African's poor roads and travel infrastructure, in development class after development class, and now at last my brain, nerves and stomach understand!
It was worth it though: Nkawkaw is beautiful, and a delightful change of pace from the mean streets of Accra. We seem to somehow draw less attention - or at least, there's less grabbing and more simply being greeted. We're also surrounded by tropical vegetation, with beautiful green mountains looming in the distance. Walking through the streets, past vendors, feeling the humidity frizz out my hair it really hit me - I'm in Africa!
For these couple of weeks we're staying in the city with a Catholic parish, in a guest house near the hospital, churches, schools and the Priest's residence (where we also eat). The incredible Father Andy, a young, hip father from the Parish instructs us in Twi, one of the local languages. Usually this occurs in chapel, under the watch of white Jesus, white Mary, and a man I believe to be white Joseph. Though these figures have always been white (or obruni, as the locals would say) in my experience...yet here, that particular racial identity seems supremely ridiculous. It's interesting being in a Catholic community, and particular going to Church last Sunday. on the one hand, its kind of comforting to be in an environment in which I have a sense of belonging (btw I'm Catholic) and in which the mass provides a sense of familiarity in an otherwise unfamiliar environment. Yet it's also challenging, being confronted with my Religion under these circumstances. Listening to a sermon about all the good Catholic missionaries have done in Ghana, I couldn't help but feel skeptical. Mission work is so closely tied to colonialism in my head, and there's a sense that the Church's presence in Ghana is based on a troubled history. A lunchtime lecture on the "sickness" of gay marriage by a visiting priest was also a challenging experience - especially since that's something which doesn't appear to be widely approved of in Ghana. Sometimes I feel like being Catholic is a little bit like liking bad pop music (Backstreet Boys anyone?): it feels good, and comforting and can even have a deep effect on you, but there's a part of you that's a little bit ashamed, or embarrassed rather. I've concluded though, that the Catholic Faith, like anything really, can be used for loving, caring, positive, progressive work - or for oppression. Though I value my Catholic upbringing, I value more having been taught to be open minded towards religion, and others and live according to values and morals rather than doctrine. All in all, Jesus (like Dumbledore and Aslan) are on the side of love and so am I, so I think things between us are cool.
Ok, enough spiritual reflection! In other news....I've been reading Easterly's book "White Man's Burden". I feel Professor Spears would be proud. Though it's only been a week and half and 100 pages in, I already feel like being in Ghana makes me better equipped to read books like this, and to both understand the author's point of view and evidence, and to think critically about his observations. One thing I really appreciate is Easterly's recognition that culture, history and social norms are crucial components of economic systems and need to be included in development. It was a main goal of mine coming here to understand development theory, literature, work etc better, and it feels good to kind of be on the right track. It's gonna be a long process, but I was right that this was something I had to live through if I want to pursue a career in development.
On a different note again, the people here are truly amazing. Father Andy is such a fun and patient teacher, Monseigneur Paul is caring and as for the cook, Auntie Aggie - she's incredible. She cooks us amazing meals, can hold a hot pot without oven mitts, and helps us in our Twi while allowing us to pretend to help her in the kitchen. The food here really is incredible - we are definitely being spoiled. I'm sure this will stand out even more after we've experienced a bit more of simple living, in our villages, and on our own. We finally tried Fufu - plaintain which has been pounded into an elasticy ball of goodness. You rip pieces off and dip them in stew or salsa (as you do with both Banky, and Kenke...a theme!) and swallow it whole. I love it - by far my favourite of the starch balls fondues. This is plantain growing country, so we also get a lot of fried and boiled plantain; they can be hard, kind of like potatoes or ripe, kind of like sugary fried goodness dropped form heaven. Also, a note to Pamela: that Banku aftertaste I was complaining about was all you! (or the box). Jokes. But seriously - I like Banku here!
I saw a rainbow today, and also broke a shelf, but let's talk about the rainbow! One second it'll be sunny and hot and blue sky etc and then the clouds will swoop in (yes, swoop), obscuring the mountain top and unleash their torrents! It's pretty dramatic, as was the thunder. They tend not to last too long, though they do make things very muddy. Interestingly, the rainy season is apparently usually done by this time. I might have to have a chat with Al Gore about this one....
One more week of Twi lessons, then it's off to the villages for real - it got pushed back a bit because we arrived a bit later than originally scheduled. I tend to think I'm progressing pretty well in the language...until I talk to an actual Twi speaker. These conversations tend to stagnate after the general, "Hello, How Are you, I'm Fine, My Name is Jacqueline", if they even get that far. Talking to the school children is particularly fun, since they pretty much just giggle when I say anything at all. This can also be confusing since it's impossible to know if they're laughing because I'm a silly Obruni speaking Twi, or if it's because I've made some kind of embarrassingly stupid mistake. Oh well.
Well, I guess that's all. Overall things are feeling less surreal. I'm setting into the heat, and have learned to wash my clothes by hand and shower with a bucket. All things considered, I think it's really awesome how quickly we can adapt to knew situations - at least temporarily. I know the frustration and homesickness will kick in, but for now I'm enjoying this "up" phase in the transition process. I've had tough moments, and it is hard being in a group and also very noticeable; alone time is hard to come by. But for those moments, there's support, and Isable Allende, and perhaps even the odd FanIce (google it - its awesome stuff and I've no time to explain).
Akyre! (See you later!)
I arrived in Nkawkaw one week ago, on what seemed like a somewhat treacherous trotro ride (though praise the skies, the bus had airconditioning!). Kept forgetting which side of the road Ghanaians are supposed to drive on, since it seems to just be whichever has slightly less potholes and no cars coming head on. How many times have I heard tell of African's poor roads and travel infrastructure, in development class after development class, and now at last my brain, nerves and stomach understand!
It was worth it though: Nkawkaw is beautiful, and a delightful change of pace from the mean streets of Accra. We seem to somehow draw less attention - or at least, there's less grabbing and more simply being greeted. We're also surrounded by tropical vegetation, with beautiful green mountains looming in the distance. Walking through the streets, past vendors, feeling the humidity frizz out my hair it really hit me - I'm in Africa!
For these couple of weeks we're staying in the city with a Catholic parish, in a guest house near the hospital, churches, schools and the Priest's residence (where we also eat). The incredible Father Andy, a young, hip father from the Parish instructs us in Twi, one of the local languages. Usually this occurs in chapel, under the watch of white Jesus, white Mary, and a man I believe to be white Joseph. Though these figures have always been white (or obruni, as the locals would say) in my experience...yet here, that particular racial identity seems supremely ridiculous. It's interesting being in a Catholic community, and particular going to Church last Sunday. on the one hand, its kind of comforting to be in an environment in which I have a sense of belonging (btw I'm Catholic) and in which the mass provides a sense of familiarity in an otherwise unfamiliar environment. Yet it's also challenging, being confronted with my Religion under these circumstances. Listening to a sermon about all the good Catholic missionaries have done in Ghana, I couldn't help but feel skeptical. Mission work is so closely tied to colonialism in my head, and there's a sense that the Church's presence in Ghana is based on a troubled history. A lunchtime lecture on the "sickness" of gay marriage by a visiting priest was also a challenging experience - especially since that's something which doesn't appear to be widely approved of in Ghana. Sometimes I feel like being Catholic is a little bit like liking bad pop music (Backstreet Boys anyone?): it feels good, and comforting and can even have a deep effect on you, but there's a part of you that's a little bit ashamed, or embarrassed rather. I've concluded though, that the Catholic Faith, like anything really, can be used for loving, caring, positive, progressive work - or for oppression. Though I value my Catholic upbringing, I value more having been taught to be open minded towards religion, and others and live according to values and morals rather than doctrine. All in all, Jesus (like Dumbledore and Aslan) are on the side of love and so am I, so I think things between us are cool.
Ok, enough spiritual reflection! In other news....I've been reading Easterly's book "White Man's Burden". I feel Professor Spears would be proud. Though it's only been a week and half and 100 pages in, I already feel like being in Ghana makes me better equipped to read books like this, and to both understand the author's point of view and evidence, and to think critically about his observations. One thing I really appreciate is Easterly's recognition that culture, history and social norms are crucial components of economic systems and need to be included in development. It was a main goal of mine coming here to understand development theory, literature, work etc better, and it feels good to kind of be on the right track. It's gonna be a long process, but I was right that this was something I had to live through if I want to pursue a career in development.
On a different note again, the people here are truly amazing. Father Andy is such a fun and patient teacher, Monseigneur Paul is caring and as for the cook, Auntie Aggie - she's incredible. She cooks us amazing meals, can hold a hot pot without oven mitts, and helps us in our Twi while allowing us to pretend to help her in the kitchen. The food here really is incredible - we are definitely being spoiled. I'm sure this will stand out even more after we've experienced a bit more of simple living, in our villages, and on our own. We finally tried Fufu - plaintain which has been pounded into an elasticy ball of goodness. You rip pieces off and dip them in stew or salsa (as you do with both Banky, and Kenke...a theme!) and swallow it whole. I love it - by far my favourite of the starch balls fondues. This is plantain growing country, so we also get a lot of fried and boiled plantain; they can be hard, kind of like potatoes or ripe, kind of like sugary fried goodness dropped form heaven. Also, a note to Pamela: that Banku aftertaste I was complaining about was all you! (or the box). Jokes. But seriously - I like Banku here!
I saw a rainbow today, and also broke a shelf, but let's talk about the rainbow! One second it'll be sunny and hot and blue sky etc and then the clouds will swoop in (yes, swoop), obscuring the mountain top and unleash their torrents! It's pretty dramatic, as was the thunder. They tend not to last too long, though they do make things very muddy. Interestingly, the rainy season is apparently usually done by this time. I might have to have a chat with Al Gore about this one....
One more week of Twi lessons, then it's off to the villages for real - it got pushed back a bit because we arrived a bit later than originally scheduled. I tend to think I'm progressing pretty well in the language...until I talk to an actual Twi speaker. These conversations tend to stagnate after the general, "Hello, How Are you, I'm Fine, My Name is Jacqueline", if they even get that far. Talking to the school children is particularly fun, since they pretty much just giggle when I say anything at all. This can also be confusing since it's impossible to know if they're laughing because I'm a silly Obruni speaking Twi, or if it's because I've made some kind of embarrassingly stupid mistake. Oh well.
Well, I guess that's all. Overall things are feeling less surreal. I'm setting into the heat, and have learned to wash my clothes by hand and shower with a bucket. All things considered, I think it's really awesome how quickly we can adapt to knew situations - at least temporarily. I know the frustration and homesickness will kick in, but for now I'm enjoying this "up" phase in the transition process. I've had tough moments, and it is hard being in a group and also very noticeable; alone time is hard to come by. But for those moments, there's support, and Isable Allende, and perhaps even the odd FanIce (google it - its awesome stuff and I've no time to explain).
Akyre! (See you later!)
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Last day in Accra - tomorrow we leave for Nkawkaw. I decided that since my blogs have been a little vague I'll try to end this section of the trip with an actual account of what I've been up to. Might be easier now that I'm starting to kind of settle in and be a little less overwhelmed by the mere fact of actually being here.
Monday:
First full day in Accra. Woke up, went to the bank to cash travellers checks/change American money to Ghanaian. This took a ridiculously long time since we have three people in a our group who can cash the travellers checks. I should clear up about the cocoa we ate for breakfast, mentioned in the last blog - this is not some chocolate and milk mixture of deliciousness...its a yellow, spicy porridge that has been likened so far to both chai and warm lemonade. It's actually not as bad in Ghana - however I have residual memories of throwing it up during orientation so its kinda hard for me to stomach. It's the only thing so far that I really can't stand though, so I figure that's not bad.
Next we went to Nkrumah Circle (my spelling is probably way off) which has a trotro station, and kinda a huge outdoor market. The street vendors sell just about anything; clothes, food, deodorant, soap, watches, pens, washing machines (not kidding). Many of the areas we go to are like this - full of shop vendors calling out and grabbing. The first day was definitely overwhelming. It's also normal for people to grab your wrist to get your attention which can be a little off putting when it keeps happening. Sometimes I feel like I'm in some medieval movie scene, as the prisoner getting pulled through the crowd of peasants, who grab and jeer - that's putting it way too dramatically...it's more the sense of all the attention and feeling a little lost. I'm pretty sure none of them are waiting to see me hanged or anything though. Just curious, or want us to buy things.
We had to go to another bank as well on Monday to cash more checks. It's kind of weird going from the streets into these banks. Sitting waiting for the others, I felt like I could be in North America. There was water, air conditioning and everyone is wearing suits or business casual wear. It made me really think about globalization and how western culture/buildings/fashion/ etc are becoming so predominant. It's weird, especially somewhere like a bank, which seems like this bizarre symbol of like, 'progress' or development, or financial success or whatever...and that's the place which so far has seemed most North American. I think it speaks volumes about how culture and class are tied together, and how people imbue certain cultures with certain values. It seems like there is still this colonial-esque idea that to become more successful is to become more Western, and it makes me sad...because it equates "development" with cultural conformity. Of course, this isn't universal and is based on one hour in a Ghanaian bank on my first day in the country so lets not get carried away...just...thoughts.....
I don't remember what else that day held in store. We ate street food for lunch, and dinner - Watchey for lunch (rice beans and crazy spiciness) and Rice for dinner (again, with much spiciness!). Both meals were pretty good. You can either eat it right at the stand, or take it home in a plastic bag. Also, I guess I should mention, water comes in these little square plastic bags - you just rip off a corner and drink it by sucking it/squeezing the bag. Personally, I love it.
Tuesday:
Yesterday...let me think..the days seem so long and I lose track....I do remember it being insanely hot - even moreso than the day before. We went to Kaneshi (don't trust ANY of my spelling btw) market - which is this big indoor market. We at Banku for a breakfast, which is like a big dough ball made from kassava, which you rip off pieces of to dip in stew or sauce - we had groundnut (peanut) and it was amazing. The market inside was a little less overwhelming than the outdoor ones, I think mostly just because it wasn't as busy inside. We walked around for a while then met up and bought cloth to wear out of the baths. In the villages, people usually wear cloth, like a sarong, kind of like a robe, too and from the baths. Our facilitators helped us out by telling us what was appropriate to buy so we didn't end up getting hugely expensive cloth to wear just to the baths, making us look super rich/pretentious. For lunch we were on our own, so we went in search of Red Red (beans, with fried plantain). It ended up kind of a giant goose chase, and we ended up giving up and eating watchey again.....right across the street from a red red stand. Darn. But, live and learn. Also demonstrates how easy it is to just become dependent on guides - so its good they've been making us to more and more on our own.
And thennnn, National Museum. I'm not sure how much I really absorbed as I find the heat supremely exhausting to be honest. I remember there was a fan in front of the musical instrument exhibit though...stood there for a bit....There was some interesting stuff on the slave trade which was very interesting, since it was very specific to Ghana. I do like museums though, so I enjoyed myself. And it was also nice to just kind of walk around and read in a quiet building for a bit.
So that night, it was rice again for dinner, then Internet cafe to do my work placement stuff and a brief blog check in. We treated ourselves to fruit for desert and I ate an orange the Ghanaian way: you buy it peeled, then they cut a whole in the top and you basically just squeeze the juice into your mouth. The pulp isn't really eaten (though I had a bit of mine..which was difficult). I half felt like I was in some kind of Tropicana commercial "fresh orange juice, straight from the fruit to your mouth" or whatever. Have to say, it was amazingly delicious, and super refreshing after all the spicy eating. Then we played the bean game and had kind of just a fun relaxing night. yay!
TODAY!!
I actually slept horribly last night...my mind was going a mile a minute, thinking about back home and going back, and missing certain people and just not capable of shutting down. Then it started to rain really loudly and that kind of kept me up as well. Anyway, I slept kind of late this morning, which was ok. We did have to pack up and change rooms though which was a little chaotic. Everyone had cocoa for breakfast, with bean biscuits - but my amazing group got me an extra biscuit so I didn't eat any cocoa. I had a taste, and I think I could work my way up to tolerating it so we'll see if I get it in the village.
We were in charge of getting the trotro to our next destination, which took some asking around. Then we visited the Kwame Nkrumah Museum which was great (Nkrumah was first president of Ghana, see more here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kwame_Nkrumah:. A lot of the exhibit is outside in this great garden, with a huge statue of Nkrumah, and a huge memorial where his remains are buried. The exhibit was mostly made up of quotations from him which was interesting, to see at tiny bit of his perspective on imperialism, neo-colonialism, development, nationalism and pan-Africanism - mostly from the 1960s. He's an interesting figure and I'd like to learn a bit more about him. He was hugely influential in garnering Ghana's independence, and as I said served as the first Prime Minister. He was also responsible for the building of the Volta Hydroelectrical Dam, as part of his goal of industrializing Ghana so it could become more self-sufficient from the West. He ended up becoming kind of a dictator (well, not kind of, he was one) and being ousted by a coup, but he's kind of made a come back as a national hero. Given this come back I'd like to see if his ideas are still really popular, or if his comeback is more about his status as a nationalist hero. Interesting things to think about...
For lunch we had Kenkey - which is like Banku, but somehow different.....I'm not a huge fan. We had it with pepe, which is kind of like salsa...really spicy salsa. Yeah, the spice is a big theme here. I'm waiting in anxious anticipation for my mouth to get used to it - hopefully by the time I come home I'll be able to compete with my Mum for being able to eat the spiciest food. An ambitious goal, but hey, I've got five and a half months to work towards it!
This afternoon we went to the cultural centre...which is kind of just another outdoor market, but with more of a focus on art and music. One of our facilitators spent some of her free time during her program apprenticing at one of the drum shops, so we kind of got introduced. We also go treated to some drumming lessons, which was pretty cool. I couldn't help thinking to when my choir did a concert of Ghanaian music in high school, complete with drumming and dancing. The comparison of all these middle class white kids, learning from a white lady drummer to just sitting with these young Ghanaian men in their drum shops is kind of too much. I loved doing that concert, and I find it hard to find fault with North Americans who are exposing themselves to different cultures and appreciating Ghanain music...but there's also something uncomfortable about it. We did a workshop on cultural appropriation before leaving, which also made me think of those concerts. I don't know. Even the time those guys took to teach us some drum rhythms doesn't come close, I'm sure, to when they drum themselves. I know it sounds amazing and its crazy to watch their hands, but other than that I feel like I don't really know whats going on - the history, the cultural meaning etc. I had such a great time, but also felt so much like a white tourist getting a drum lesson. It's tough. I'm not really sure what else to say, but it's something I'm going to keep thinking about. When I come back to Accra I think I'd like to go back and look around more, at some of the other stalls as well and kind of check out how much of it 'traditional' and how much is touristy stuff based on traditional art.
After our visit, we went down to the beach just to have a look. There was a lot of garbage and feces on the way down...and a lot of garbage that was visible in the water. It was neat to see the view of the coast though, and all the fishing canoes out on the water.
OK! That's my itinerary so far. And that took 45 minutes, which is insane. I feel like that may have actually just been even more boring than me just rambling out thoughts but there we go. Kudos if you read the whole thing. My time is again almost up, so here are just a couple of other random thoughts:
Thinking about economics: It's odd to walk through the markets and see so many people selling the same thing and not many people buying (at least that I could notice). It makes me really wonder how much street sellers make in a day, especially since a lot of what is sold appears to be products which they themselves have had to buy (rather than making themselves even). It seems such a contrast to the Canadian malls in which I've worked retail for so long. Knowing daily goals for Old Navy and Teaopia, I know that there's no way these people are making that much. Obviously I have no idea how much they do make, but I'm also betting its less than I would make even working at these mall stores at minimum wage.
Ok, so only one random thought for today. I'm excited to get to Nkawkaw, and then village placements. I still feel like that's where it all will actually begin. But I think it will also be really interesting to come back to Accra in January with a bit more insight perhaps. Anyway, that blog took most of my time to peace out for now folks.
Love,
Jac
Monday:
First full day in Accra. Woke up, went to the bank to cash travellers checks/change American money to Ghanaian. This took a ridiculously long time since we have three people in a our group who can cash the travellers checks. I should clear up about the cocoa we ate for breakfast, mentioned in the last blog - this is not some chocolate and milk mixture of deliciousness...its a yellow, spicy porridge that has been likened so far to both chai and warm lemonade. It's actually not as bad in Ghana - however I have residual memories of throwing it up during orientation so its kinda hard for me to stomach. It's the only thing so far that I really can't stand though, so I figure that's not bad.
Next we went to Nkrumah Circle (my spelling is probably way off) which has a trotro station, and kinda a huge outdoor market. The street vendors sell just about anything; clothes, food, deodorant, soap, watches, pens, washing machines (not kidding). Many of the areas we go to are like this - full of shop vendors calling out and grabbing. The first day was definitely overwhelming. It's also normal for people to grab your wrist to get your attention which can be a little off putting when it keeps happening. Sometimes I feel like I'm in some medieval movie scene, as the prisoner getting pulled through the crowd of peasants, who grab and jeer - that's putting it way too dramatically...it's more the sense of all the attention and feeling a little lost. I'm pretty sure none of them are waiting to see me hanged or anything though. Just curious, or want us to buy things.
We had to go to another bank as well on Monday to cash more checks. It's kind of weird going from the streets into these banks. Sitting waiting for the others, I felt like I could be in North America. There was water, air conditioning and everyone is wearing suits or business casual wear. It made me really think about globalization and how western culture/buildings/fashion/ etc are becoming so predominant. It's weird, especially somewhere like a bank, which seems like this bizarre symbol of like, 'progress' or development, or financial success or whatever...and that's the place which so far has seemed most North American. I think it speaks volumes about how culture and class are tied together, and how people imbue certain cultures with certain values. It seems like there is still this colonial-esque idea that to become more successful is to become more Western, and it makes me sad...because it equates "development" with cultural conformity. Of course, this isn't universal and is based on one hour in a Ghanaian bank on my first day in the country so lets not get carried away...just...thoughts.....
I don't remember what else that day held in store. We ate street food for lunch, and dinner - Watchey for lunch (rice beans and crazy spiciness) and Rice for dinner (again, with much spiciness!). Both meals were pretty good. You can either eat it right at the stand, or take it home in a plastic bag. Also, I guess I should mention, water comes in these little square plastic bags - you just rip off a corner and drink it by sucking it/squeezing the bag. Personally, I love it.
Tuesday:
Yesterday...let me think..the days seem so long and I lose track....I do remember it being insanely hot - even moreso than the day before. We went to Kaneshi (don't trust ANY of my spelling btw) market - which is this big indoor market. We at Banku for a breakfast, which is like a big dough ball made from kassava, which you rip off pieces of to dip in stew or sauce - we had groundnut (peanut) and it was amazing. The market inside was a little less overwhelming than the outdoor ones, I think mostly just because it wasn't as busy inside. We walked around for a while then met up and bought cloth to wear out of the baths. In the villages, people usually wear cloth, like a sarong, kind of like a robe, too and from the baths. Our facilitators helped us out by telling us what was appropriate to buy so we didn't end up getting hugely expensive cloth to wear just to the baths, making us look super rich/pretentious. For lunch we were on our own, so we went in search of Red Red (beans, with fried plantain). It ended up kind of a giant goose chase, and we ended up giving up and eating watchey again.....right across the street from a red red stand. Darn. But, live and learn. Also demonstrates how easy it is to just become dependent on guides - so its good they've been making us to more and more on our own.
And thennnn, National Museum. I'm not sure how much I really absorbed as I find the heat supremely exhausting to be honest. I remember there was a fan in front of the musical instrument exhibit though...stood there for a bit....There was some interesting stuff on the slave trade which was very interesting, since it was very specific to Ghana. I do like museums though, so I enjoyed myself. And it was also nice to just kind of walk around and read in a quiet building for a bit.
So that night, it was rice again for dinner, then Internet cafe to do my work placement stuff and a brief blog check in. We treated ourselves to fruit for desert and I ate an orange the Ghanaian way: you buy it peeled, then they cut a whole in the top and you basically just squeeze the juice into your mouth. The pulp isn't really eaten (though I had a bit of mine..which was difficult). I half felt like I was in some kind of Tropicana commercial "fresh orange juice, straight from the fruit to your mouth" or whatever. Have to say, it was amazingly delicious, and super refreshing after all the spicy eating. Then we played the bean game and had kind of just a fun relaxing night. yay!
TODAY!!
I actually slept horribly last night...my mind was going a mile a minute, thinking about back home and going back, and missing certain people and just not capable of shutting down. Then it started to rain really loudly and that kind of kept me up as well. Anyway, I slept kind of late this morning, which was ok. We did have to pack up and change rooms though which was a little chaotic. Everyone had cocoa for breakfast, with bean biscuits - but my amazing group got me an extra biscuit so I didn't eat any cocoa. I had a taste, and I think I could work my way up to tolerating it so we'll see if I get it in the village.
We were in charge of getting the trotro to our next destination, which took some asking around. Then we visited the Kwame Nkrumah Museum which was great (Nkrumah was first president of Ghana, see more here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kwame_Nkrumah:. A lot of the exhibit is outside in this great garden, with a huge statue of Nkrumah, and a huge memorial where his remains are buried. The exhibit was mostly made up of quotations from him which was interesting, to see at tiny bit of his perspective on imperialism, neo-colonialism, development, nationalism and pan-Africanism - mostly from the 1960s. He's an interesting figure and I'd like to learn a bit more about him. He was hugely influential in garnering Ghana's independence, and as I said served as the first Prime Minister. He was also responsible for the building of the Volta Hydroelectrical Dam, as part of his goal of industrializing Ghana so it could become more self-sufficient from the West. He ended up becoming kind of a dictator (well, not kind of, he was one) and being ousted by a coup, but he's kind of made a come back as a national hero. Given this come back I'd like to see if his ideas are still really popular, or if his comeback is more about his status as a nationalist hero. Interesting things to think about...
For lunch we had Kenkey - which is like Banku, but somehow different.....I'm not a huge fan. We had it with pepe, which is kind of like salsa...really spicy salsa. Yeah, the spice is a big theme here. I'm waiting in anxious anticipation for my mouth to get used to it - hopefully by the time I come home I'll be able to compete with my Mum for being able to eat the spiciest food. An ambitious goal, but hey, I've got five and a half months to work towards it!
This afternoon we went to the cultural centre...which is kind of just another outdoor market, but with more of a focus on art and music. One of our facilitators spent some of her free time during her program apprenticing at one of the drum shops, so we kind of got introduced. We also go treated to some drumming lessons, which was pretty cool. I couldn't help thinking to when my choir did a concert of Ghanaian music in high school, complete with drumming and dancing. The comparison of all these middle class white kids, learning from a white lady drummer to just sitting with these young Ghanaian men in their drum shops is kind of too much. I loved doing that concert, and I find it hard to find fault with North Americans who are exposing themselves to different cultures and appreciating Ghanain music...but there's also something uncomfortable about it. We did a workshop on cultural appropriation before leaving, which also made me think of those concerts. I don't know. Even the time those guys took to teach us some drum rhythms doesn't come close, I'm sure, to when they drum themselves. I know it sounds amazing and its crazy to watch their hands, but other than that I feel like I don't really know whats going on - the history, the cultural meaning etc. I had such a great time, but also felt so much like a white tourist getting a drum lesson. It's tough. I'm not really sure what else to say, but it's something I'm going to keep thinking about. When I come back to Accra I think I'd like to go back and look around more, at some of the other stalls as well and kind of check out how much of it 'traditional' and how much is touristy stuff based on traditional art.
After our visit, we went down to the beach just to have a look. There was a lot of garbage and feces on the way down...and a lot of garbage that was visible in the water. It was neat to see the view of the coast though, and all the fishing canoes out on the water.
OK! That's my itinerary so far. And that took 45 minutes, which is insane. I feel like that may have actually just been even more boring than me just rambling out thoughts but there we go. Kudos if you read the whole thing. My time is again almost up, so here are just a couple of other random thoughts:
Thinking about economics: It's odd to walk through the markets and see so many people selling the same thing and not many people buying (at least that I could notice). It makes me really wonder how much street sellers make in a day, especially since a lot of what is sold appears to be products which they themselves have had to buy (rather than making themselves even). It seems such a contrast to the Canadian malls in which I've worked retail for so long. Knowing daily goals for Old Navy and Teaopia, I know that there's no way these people are making that much. Obviously I have no idea how much they do make, but I'm also betting its less than I would make even working at these mall stores at minimum wage.
Ok, so only one random thought for today. I'm excited to get to Nkawkaw, and then village placements. I still feel like that's where it all will actually begin. But I think it will also be really interesting to come back to Accra in January with a bit more insight perhaps. Anyway, that blog took most of my time to peace out for now folks.
Love,
Jac
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Quickquill Notes
I lied! I'm back today - had to do some work placement stuff online. I only have a couple of quick observations to make...
1. Ads here are a lot less skanky. I noticed that today, watching the billboards fly by. It was like...hey...everyones wearing clothes on those billboards...wtf?! I mentioned this to Hannah and she'd noticed it to - she even saw a skin lotion add and the woman wasn't naked! I would like to know a bit more about why that is...
2. I was cursing my strong gag reflex today for the second time in Ghana (the first was eating cocoa for breakfast - this is not a food I'm found of). This time it was walking through the market near the open sewers. The stench was incredible - almost as bad as walking across a bridge yesterday over a river that smelt like one giant outhouse (probably because it's used as one). I know Kingston's messed up with waste treatment before, but all of a sudden I have a huge appreciation for indoor plumbing.
Ok, my internet time clock is clicking down so that's all for now. I'm hoping as I become less overwhelmed I notice more little observations which I can share and hopefully learn more about.
Jac
1. Ads here are a lot less skanky. I noticed that today, watching the billboards fly by. It was like...hey...everyones wearing clothes on those billboards...wtf?! I mentioned this to Hannah and she'd noticed it to - she even saw a skin lotion add and the woman wasn't naked! I would like to know a bit more about why that is...
2. I was cursing my strong gag reflex today for the second time in Ghana (the first was eating cocoa for breakfast - this is not a food I'm found of). This time it was walking through the market near the open sewers. The stench was incredible - almost as bad as walking across a bridge yesterday over a river that smelt like one giant outhouse (probably because it's used as one). I know Kingston's messed up with waste treatment before, but all of a sudden I have a huge appreciation for indoor plumbing.
Ok, my internet time clock is clicking down so that's all for now. I'm hoping as I become less overwhelmed I notice more little observations which I can share and hopefully learn more about.
Jac
Monday, October 18, 2010
Arrival in Accra
I'm in Ghana! Specifically, I am sitting in an internet cafe in Accra (with somewhat limited timing). We arrived last night, Ghana time, after a very long airplane trip which I not only survived, but during which I was able to watch an episode of Dr Who (trying not to be disappointed they only had a Matt Smith episode available - can't have it all I guess).
My first impressions are pretty basic. Mostly I can't get over the heat and the humidity. We travelled by Trotro for the first time which kind of gave me flashbacks to the minibuses in Ukraine (which I can't remember the name for at the moment). The markets are insanely busy and crowded and a little overwhelming . Our group stands out for sure, and I definetely got pinched (on the arm, don't worry) and yelled at a bit - I'm assuming because people wanted my business, though I can make no guarantee. There's a lot of English speaking, but also a lot of non-English speaking which adds to the whole disorientation thing. I may not be a people person, but I have to say, it's nice having the group around going through it all with me. Awwww.....
Not much else really happened today. Ate some Ghanaian food, got some Ghanaian money, that kind of thing. Got woken up by roosters which was a little odd. To be honest I'm plum worn out at this point. Walking in the heat all day in a brand new city will do that to you I guess, and I'm sure jet lag doesn't help. I know I promised to be more interesting but I guess I'm not really a natural blogger. Um, what else. We're here in Accra until Thursday, when we leave for Nkawkaw to start our language lessons. After a week there, it's off to the village placements - probably the part I'm most worried about/ the part which will be the most interesting. I won't have Internet access during that time so it may be quite a while before I post again. To everyone back home - I miss you all! I'm also feeling really excited about being here and I'm glad I decided to do this. I can already tell it's going to be an amazing trip. Optimism abounds! Not a feeling I'm used to, but I think that's all the more reason to trust it.
Peace
My first impressions are pretty basic. Mostly I can't get over the heat and the humidity. We travelled by Trotro for the first time which kind of gave me flashbacks to the minibuses in Ukraine (which I can't remember the name for at the moment). The markets are insanely busy and crowded and a little overwhelming . Our group stands out for sure, and I definetely got pinched (on the arm, don't worry) and yelled at a bit - I'm assuming because people wanted my business, though I can make no guarantee. There's a lot of English speaking, but also a lot of non-English speaking which adds to the whole disorientation thing. I may not be a people person, but I have to say, it's nice having the group around going through it all with me. Awwww.....
Not much else really happened today. Ate some Ghanaian food, got some Ghanaian money, that kind of thing. Got woken up by roosters which was a little odd. To be honest I'm plum worn out at this point. Walking in the heat all day in a brand new city will do that to you I guess, and I'm sure jet lag doesn't help. I know I promised to be more interesting but I guess I'm not really a natural blogger. Um, what else. We're here in Accra until Thursday, when we leave for Nkawkaw to start our language lessons. After a week there, it's off to the village placements - probably the part I'm most worried about/ the part which will be the most interesting. I won't have Internet access during that time so it may be quite a while before I post again. To everyone back home - I miss you all! I'm also feeling really excited about being here and I'm glad I decided to do this. I can already tell it's going to be an amazing trip. Optimism abounds! Not a feeling I'm used to, but I think that's all the more reason to trust it.
Peace
Friday, October 15, 2010
Last Sleep in Canada
That is, if I end up sleeping at all tonight. I'm getting that pre-departure buzz - the one that will hopefully get me through all the things I've procrastinated doing until now. My bag is upstairs packed, which is actually surprisingly organized for me. I guess it went quickly since its not really a lot of stuff - though it's crazy how much space medication and toiletries take up . This week has been such an experience in itself. I came home from orientation feeling so ready to go, and now it almost feels like that whole prep month never happened. Last week I felt really committed to living simply, embracing the experience of living in poverty. Yet the amount of money I've spent preparing to go live in poverty makes the whole thing feel like a bit of a joke. It really brings home that however much I hope to learn during the next few months, I a will never know what it's like not to have the privileges of a middle class Canadian student. Probably a good thing to realize now - and a theme which I'm sure will come up again.
I am a little nervous about not having said all the goodbyes I wanted. There are a lot of people I meant to e-mail, but for the most part I couldn't really think of what to say. My mind is in such a different place than it was last week - even writing this blog isn't really coming naturally. It's like coming home from a crazy semester at school and just turning everything off because you're so sick of thinking. I feel that way about reflecting and sharing. In a way I'm glad I had this bit of a break, to relax a bit, to just chill and not overthink everything, to sleep in....and also to go back to living the way I usually do with slightly more awareness. A little bit of a practice run for April? We shall see.
Anyway, I'll try to keep this blog up as much as I can in Ghana, and I'll try to be a bit more communicative/coherent/interesting in the future. It's important to me to keep this blog since I feel like I often check out when telling people about my experiences - like, I feel they won't get it or understand or I don't want to get into it so I just say "it was good" or "interesting" and leave it at that. So this is kind of a way of being honest without having to feel awkward or to have to actually speak out loud. Anyway that's the hope....now, to finish my masters applications!
I am a little nervous about not having said all the goodbyes I wanted. There are a lot of people I meant to e-mail, but for the most part I couldn't really think of what to say. My mind is in such a different place than it was last week - even writing this blog isn't really coming naturally. It's like coming home from a crazy semester at school and just turning everything off because you're so sick of thinking. I feel that way about reflecting and sharing. In a way I'm glad I had this bit of a break, to relax a bit, to just chill and not overthink everything, to sleep in....and also to go back to living the way I usually do with slightly more awareness. A little bit of a practice run for April? We shall see.
Anyway, I'll try to keep this blog up as much as I can in Ghana, and I'll try to be a bit more communicative/coherent/interesting in the future. It's important to me to keep this blog since I feel like I often check out when telling people about my experiences - like, I feel they won't get it or understand or I don't want to get into it so I just say "it was good" or "interesting" and leave it at that. So this is kind of a way of being honest without having to feel awkward or to have to actually speak out loud. Anyway that's the hope....now, to finish my masters applications!
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