Ebore Shunga Ba

"May God bring you back safely from your journey"

To start this one off, I’ll first apologize to everyone for the very long silence this blog has felt. The last month has been a flurry of activity – a second village stay, really diving into work, lots of report writing, and saying goodbye to the incredible people that were my home these past four months.

Lonto/Yeji

For this second village, I went with a friend who is doing his attachment (like co-op) at the District Assembly to his village. Emmanuel is studying at the University for Development Studies and entering his third year next month, just like me! He grew up in Lonto village, raised by his grandparents. At 12 years old, he was in form 2 (of 3) in Junior Secondary School. His grandfather went took a trip to Yeji (a big city on the lake in the Brong Ahafo Region) and learned of a new international school opening there. Next thing you know, Emmanuel is in Yeji entering grade 3 of Primary School. How could the graduates of that JSS in Lonto be expected to compete with graduates from that international school in Yeji? They’ll all be entering Senior Secondary School with the same qualification (Basic Education Certificate) but almost definitely with vastly different levels of knowledge and learning experience. People can build all the schools they want but unless the quality of the curriculum and the teachers improves, education will always be sub par. You hope that people will come out of school, innovate, work hard and build up the private sector. If the private sector grows, more jobs are created, people are less dependent on widely variable unknowns, funding their education and those of their children will be much easier, and the cycle begins – one hopes.

The visit to Lonto was quite pleasant. The food, prepared by Emmanuel’s cousin Lizzie (who is entering her final year at Salaga Secondary School next month), was amazing! One of my favourite meals of the summer is definitely her boiled yams and stew with fish. There’s nothing like eating fish in a fishing village… or at least, in a village a stone’s throw away from a fishing village. We biked down to Negbo, said fishing village, and did some small fishing with Abraham. On the Sunday, we took a trip to Yeji on the engine boat, basically a very large canoe powered with two speed boat motors and filled with over 50 people, large sacks of produce, and normally a few cows and goats. Yeji is a very interesting town with a massive bustling market that felt bigger than all of Salaga! And to top it all off, we visited Emmanuel’s uncle’s ostrich farm. Those massive beasts can sell for more than 9,000,000 cedis, which means massive profit when you buy them for just 4,000,000 in the first place! I’ve posted a few photos from this trip at http://picasaweb.google.com/ewinchiu/20070826VillageStayInLonto

From Salaga to Ottawa

I finished off work on Wednesday the 15^th and spent the morning of the 16^th with my host family before taking off for Tamale. It was a very joyous goodbye with not many tears, maybe because I know that we’ll keep in touch and I will definitely be seeing them again, though the when and where of it all is quite uncertain.

We had a final meeting Tamale on the 17^th with the JFs and LTOVs before setting off on the 18^th. I ended up stopping in Kumasi with Nicole, Sean, and Jad (and Janna and Laura who then split off to Cape Coast) in our way to Accra. It’s unfortunate that the main day we had for exploration of Ghana's business centre was a Sunday – the city was on the quiet side with most people gathered at church. We left on Monday for Accra and barely had any time to roam around. Having seen only the cultural centre of Accra (a big market selling paintings, drums, material, crafts, and other tourist-y items), I definitely didn’t get a good feel of the city. We only had the chance to experience lots of traffic and very pushy salesmen – quite unfortunate since I have no doubt the capital is a very interesting place with lots to share. Guess it’ll have to be next time…

As I board this train to Ottawa that is the final leg of my journey home, the old man behind me says, “I’m just happy I don’t have your load to carry!” These three large bags can certainly be a hassle, but I have zero regrets about the things I’m bringing home. More than just the stuff in the bags, it’s the memories and the incredible people I’ve had the great privilege of experiencing this summer that will shape the person I’m to become. While I am coming home much more confused about the world than when I left it, I couldn’t be happier about it. Yes, I’m more confused, but at least I know I’m confused! I think we all want the same things – a safe and clean world where we can live in happiness and peace with our friends and family. Hopefully with this new awareness, I can figure out what role I have to play in working toward that world.

Finally, I want to say thank you for taking the time to follow this journey. It’s been more than a pleasure to have you all share some of this experience and I’m looking forward to sharing even more and catching up with each and every one of you!!

Living with Royalty...

With just one month left in Ghana, I’ve realized how much there is still to do and so little time! This weekend, I’ve been lucky to have some excellent family bonding time.

Aye yo eloto! (Let’s go to farm!)

This morning was definitely the highlight of my week. As the heading suggests, we went to farm! Luckily it rained last night so the sky was cloudy and the weather quite cool.

Around 9 a.m., I hopped on the back of my bicycle and Somah peddled us the 2 miles to today’s task – bean planting!

Here, unlike Canada where farms look like the solid-colour building blocks you find in a kindergarten classroom, it’s often hard to distinguish between a farm and the bush. My family farms a number of crops on separate chunks of land sprinkled along the road leading to Kafaba. On the way to our destination (the yam and cassava farm), we passed their teak tree/mango/cashew farm, their ground nut (peanut) farm, their maize farm, and the place where their cattle are kept. It seemed like every two minutes of the ride I’d hear “this one is ours” coming from the front of the bicycle. I’m excited to sit down with Zet and draw out a map of all their farms to get a clear picture of all of it! Hopefully I'll be able to share that next time with a few more thoughts about all these different crops...

The bean planting process is fairly straight-forward: make a hole in the mound with a big stick, throw in two beans, cover the hole. “Make a hole in the ‘mound’?” I hear some people asking. Yep, yams and cassava are planted in mounds to give more room to the roots and, consequently, get bigger yams and cassavas. The yams plants produce one yam per mound, but the cassava plants (which look like little trees) can get as many as five cassavas per mound. The mounds are often home to more than just a yam or cassava plant and also host one or two maize plants, okra, ground nut, or… beans!

With many helping hands, the work didn’t take too long to complete and we were back home by 12:30. Photos posted here: http://picasaweb.google.com/ewinchiu/20070722BeanPlanting

Wuras

Today was also snippets of a family history lesson. Apparently, my family’s ancestors were originally from Kafaba (the place where I did my village stay) and were the first people to settle in Salaga. They’re also royalty… Zet is the son of the former Somahwura and I’ve been told that the Somahwura is second in rank after the Kafabawura, one of the bigger chiefs in Gonja land.

Traditional authorities (chiefs and queen mothers) are still an integral part of society in Ghana. When spending time in a village, it’s always a good idea to greet the wura (the chief) and present a gift of kola nuts or bread. In addition to many other responsibilities, the chiefs hold control of the land so if you want to start a farm or build a house, you must ask for land from the chief before anything else.

The Yagbonwura, King of Gonja land, stays in Damongo, West Gonja. Endawura Jakpa (sp?) was the fierce warrior who led the Gonjas from Mali to Ghana… kind of like the George Washington of Gonja land. It’s been said that every time he conquered an area and got that extra bit of land, he left one of his sons to be chief of that area. The chieftaincy system of the Gonjas is quite complex. I don’t know all the details but the seat of the Yagbonwura basically rotates through four or five gates, the gates being the main chiefs of Gonja land based on where Endawura Jakpa’s sons settled. Each of these gates has its own system of rotating between clans and, within those clans, there’s a ranking system that people must climb to reach any significant chieftaincy.

One of these gates is in Kpembe, a village just a quick bike ride from Salaga, and the current Yagbonwura is actually from the Kpembe gate. One of my good friends, Braimah, is the grandson of Yagbonwura Timu I, the Kpembe Yagbonwura from 1983 to 1987. Timu I had nine wives and 47 children! Talk about family connections everywhere you go!

Another family bonding activity this weekend has been some mini computer lessons I’m doing with my siblings. Apparently the government wants to open an IT training centre/internet café in all the district capitals. Hopefully the next blog entry will feature some guest writers with a story or two…

Tourist for a Day

Last weekend we had our midterm retreat for all the Ghana JFs in Damongo, West Gonja district. An excellent time was had by all and sufficient amounts of sleep was experienced by very few. On Saturday, we took a day off and did a tourist-y trip to Mole National Park and Larabanga, a small community between Damongo and Mole that boasts the oldest mosque in Ghana.

Mole

To start our day, we did a “safari hike” with our tour guide PK and were fortunate to get a glimpse of several different animals – elephants, kobs, water bucks, bush bucks, baboons, monkeys, and a crocodile… well, the eyes and nostrils of a crocodile floating on the surface of a watering hole. There’s not much more to say so I’ll just direct you to a few photos from the hike: http://picasaweb.google.com/ewinchiu/20070707MoleNationalPark.

After the hike and a quick lunch, we relaxed for a short time, enjoyed the beautiful view, and narrowly missed getting run over by a warthog. Lesson of the day: don’t find yourself caught between a bag of delicious mangoes and a pack of hungry warthogs.

Getting over the excitement of the warthog chase, the majority of the group decided to trek over the Larabanga while the rest chilled out by the pool at Mole.

Larabanga

After a peaceful 6 km walk from Mole to Larabanga, we were ready to dive into some history and see the mosque. Our group was quite large so we split off into smaller packs to tour the town. Having been told that the town is quite accustomed to tourists and the fake tour guides are aplenty, my group decided to bypass everyone and head straight over to the mosque. Gwen used her excellent Dagbani to greet the Chief Imam and we understood that a gift would be expected of us – normally something like kola nuts should be given but cash would do since we didn’t have any kola nuts handy. We strolled towards the mosque and were instantly surrounded by people. Some were children telling stories about how they want to go to school but can’t afford books while others were reciting the history of the mosque in hopes that we would compensate for their efforts. Non-Muslims aren’t allowed to enter the mosque, but our group didn’t even tour around the building because of a misunderstanding with some men demanding 20,000 cedis from each of us. A donation for upkeep of the mosque and development of the community is understandable, but they couldn’t show us one example of how past contributions had been used. While we went to discuss the situation with the Chief Imam, a few other JFs encountered some very hostile community members yelling at them for taking a picture and, presumably, also demanding money.

After all this excitement, we waited outside a guesthouse for the rest of the group to come with the rented bus from Mole. The guesthouse is owned by the Salia brothers, twins that have apparently done wonders for Larabanga in terms of tourism and also having a hand in the establishment of a junior secondary school. We told Al-hassan, one of the brothers, about our experience at the mosque and apologized on behalf of the community, although he had no place in the apology. He was nothing but gracious and had some interesting things to say about how tourism has affected Larabanga. There’s no doubt that people in the community have benefited from all the tourists coming into the town, but “money that is given where unwarranted” has brought out the worst in some community members, including the ones we met.

With the Ministry of Tourism trying to capitalize on Salaga’s historical role in the slave trade and turn the town into a mecca for tourists, I worry that the same thing will start to happen to people in this town I’ve grown to love. The town's economy would certainly get a boost with lots of people and money coming through, but will it be worth it if people start seeing nothing but dollar signs? I have faith in my fellow Salagarians to keep their values in check, but there's no denying that new Ghana cedi bills will have a strong pull on many in this town.

"The value is the same!"

Speaking of "new Ghana cedi bills", another big event that’s happened in recent times is the currency change from cedis to Ghanaian cedis that started on July 1. “The value is the same!” claim all the posters and commercials put out by the government to inform the public. With the old currency, the largest bill you could find was 20,000 cedis ($2.50!), so taking out money from the bank produces big stacks that couldn’t possibly fit in a wallet. One new Ghanaian cedi is worth 10,000 cedis, i.e., GHc 1 = 10,000 cedis, and they come in the standard bill amounts up to GHc 50. It’s supposed to be “faster and easier transactions,” but the ATM machines are all distributing GHc 1 bills which is a smaller denomination than the previous 20,000 cedi bills. Now we’ve got twice the amount of bills for the same amount of money! Hopefully the Bank of Ghana will start producing more GHc 5 bills (50,000 cedis) to lighten the load. I am quite curious about how many GHc 50 bills (500,000 cedis or $63) they’ll be producing… it’s hard to imagine how many people will be using that bill on a daily basis. GHc 50 is enough to buy a bicycle and is about half the monthly salary of a teacher fresh out of training college.

Yep, a teacher earns anywhere from $100 (for those with nothing higher than a secondary school certificate, which happens to be the majority) to $300, depending how long he or she has been teaching. It may be easy to say that this type of salary is plenty when I’m paying 50 cents for a big loaf of bread and $6.25 a month for rent, but I don’t need to worry about getting clothes on my children and food in their bellies.

Note: I just checked oanda.com and found that the exchange rate is sitting at about $1 CAN to 9045 cedis. I’ve been using $1 = 8000 cedis since I got here (and will continue to do so in order to stay consistent and save brain power) so any dollar values I give will be a bit off base but not enough to really distort anything. I mention this now to quell a burning (anal) desire to put “ish” after every value in this post and those to come… did I just say “burning anal desire”?! One can just imagine the strange medication ads – or worse – Google’s AdBot will link to this post!

Gari, Batik and Politics...

Apologies to all for the longer-than-usual silence – surprise power outages, village stays, and course registration have prevented some good blogging, but hopefully I’ll make up for it this week.

So last week I did a village stay in Kafaba, a biggish village about 40 minutes south east of Salaga with a population around 1500. I stayed with the family of a big contractor in the district who proposed to me and offered his family home for the visit. I said no to the first offer and yes to the second, although I was a bit concerned that they would think it was a “meet the parents” type of situation. Funny enough, when we went to check out the village, the contractor’s father and my landlord for a week (nickname: Boga) also proposed to me. As much as I would love to be the fourth wife of an 85 year old man, I had to decline on that one when thinking about my grandmother having a heart attack upon receipt of my bride price ;)

With a fairly low level of education in the village, the majority don’t speak English. My Gonja being quite limited to greetings and a few simple questions and nouns, I needed some help in getting around and asking questions. My favourite tour guide was Mutaru, just a few days older than me and waiting for his JSS results to start Senior Secondary School in the coming months. I really enjoyed our conversations and he has become a very good friend who will hopefully visit me in Salaga. Unfortunately, he wasn’t available to show me around as often as we would have liked so I spent quite a bit of time with Dramain, one of Boga’s sons. He stopped schooling at Form 3 of JSS and is now working as a farmer. He showed me around his farm, took me to Okusu, and introduced me to Adisa and Atawu (keep reading for details). I didn’t get to actually do work on the farm with Dramain so I was going to do some with Mutaru but our plans got interrupted (big surprise!) when he was sent to do an errand. I'm hoping to go with Soma and Z (my host brother and father here in Salaga) next time they go to farm.

Village Politics

When it was first confirmed that I’d be going to Kafaba for my village stay, everyone I talked to in Salaga would say “your friends, they are there.” I really didn’t know what to expect when first meeting “my friends,” an American family learning Gonja in Kafaba. What I found was a really lovely and welcoming family in Tanner and Rebecca Leibee, who have lived there for almost two years now and had two adorable sons in that time-span, Dale and Camden. Rebecca’s sister Grace is also staying there for a few months to help out with the young boys. I am so grateful to have met the Leibees because, having lived in Kafaba for quite a while, they are very integrated in the community and have an excellent understanding of the community issues. I learned buckets about village politics and Gonja culture from them and certainly wouldn’t have been able to get so much information from just any community member. I visited with them quite a lot during my stay (often their friends from Kafaba) and we discussed many topics ranging from Ghanaian politics to our families to the ridiculous amounts of MSG found in Chinese restaurants.

One story they told me is about a recent Assemblyman election. The Assembly is kind of like city council, 70% of the Assembly members are Assembly men or women elected from all the areas of the district and 30% are government appointed members. (I believe our district’s Assembly is about 48 people in total and our Presiding Member (someone elected by the Assembly to represent them) is Paulina, a strong and well-read woman from just outside Salaga.)

While Kafaba is made up of many different tribes, the bulk of the community belongs to one of two Gonja clans, we’ll call them Imam’s and Boga’s. Imam’s clan was the first one in Kafaba so the Chief will always be someone from Imam’s clan. The Assembly member for Kafaba, however, is a very different story – he or she is supposed to be chosen in an election open for anyone to run. Since both clans wanted one of their people to represent the village, the Chief gathered everyone and they decided that the clans would take turns in the chair. In the last two rounds the Assembly member has been someone from Boga’s clan so this time around, it was certainly time for Imam’s clan. One person came forward and everyone in the village agreed to vote for him (democracy at its best…). Just days before the election, a man from Boga’s clan got his family together and said he would put in his name since it should be a free election. They all agreed to vote for him since he’s their clansman and it got quite dirty from here. There was money being thrown around everywhere with people trying to buy votes. In the end, Imam’s guy won by something like 12 votes out of 800. The two clans wouldn’t even look at each other for a month after this whole charade! These days, they’re all civilized with each other and can even be found throwing around some jokes but they still don’t really “hang out”… although I don’t think they ever did, even before the whole election thing. It’s hard to say who is in the “right” in this situation. The guy from Boga’s clan was right – anyone should be free to run in the election and be chosen if voted for by the people. Then again, they had all agreed to rotate and it was certainly time for Imam’s clan to be in the chair. The Assembly member has a lot of clout so whoever’s clan is “in power” is actually… in power. For example, all the people chosen from Kafaba to take part in the Youth Employment Program belong to Imam’s clan. Something like 6 or 7 of Imam’s family members (which is pretty much anyone in the clan since they’re all related somehow) started government jobs a month after the program was introduced.

Okusu

Being right on Volta Lake, fishing is a big income generator in Kafaba. Many fishermen have moved to Kafaba from other areas, most notably the Volta Region. With the low rains last year, the water level of the lake is extremely low and the size of the lake has decreased significantly, causing many problems (including the energy crisis I mentioned in the last blog entry). Many fishermen have moved out to where the edge of the water is now - an “island” called Okusu - -and set up temporary homes there. This was the first time I walked to an island, the only obstacle being a 25-feet patch of knee-deep water to wade through. It’s easy for me to say since we were just taking a leisurely stroll with no time limit or end goal. If I were a student living in Okusu, trekking in a few kilometres through swampy marsh to get to the nearest school would not be the most appealing prospect, especially when my parents are struggling to catch enough food to eat and a little more to sell in the market. I tried and tried to find some fish to bring back to family and friends in Salaga but even the fishermen couldn’t help me! The biggest fish they’ve been catching these days are 4-5 inches long. When the rains come and the lake goes back to its normal size, the fishermen will have to move back to their homes in Kafaba and surrounding villages.

Gari Processing

Since cassava is one of the main crops in the district, gari processing is a popular activity in many areas. I met Adisa and Atawu who were processing in front of their compound and was quite happy to learn about one of the big income generators for women in the district.

The whole thing starts with the cassava, which is grown on their family farm. They pay to have the cassava grinded down to little chunks by a machine not far from the compound. The grinded cassava is then put through a mesh to sift out the chunks and stringy bits to produce an almost powder. This part is pretty straight-forward and not difficult but can get tiring if you’re doing it all day. After the sifting, the gari is roasted in a big… wok? This is the tough part because the roaster must sit next to the fire constantly mixing the gari. If the powder sits for just a second too long, it’ll burn. Apparently gari that is roasted properly can keep for up to three years. Adisa said they can produce up to 20 pans of gari a day, each pan holding about 12 bowls. I sat with Adisa and some other women at the market where they were trying to sell their gari, maize, groundnuts, and other assorted goods. Adisa was selling her gari for 8000 cedis (about $1) a bowl so if she sold everything she produced on a regular day, that would total 1,920,000 cedis (about $240). It sounds like a lot for one day’s work, but keep in mind they’re not processing gari every day and can’t always sell everything they produce. Abiba, one of Boga’s nieces, was also selling gari in the market and I didn’t see her sell a single bowl the entire two hours I was there.

After watching for some time, they finally let me give it a try. My roasting skills produced some nice burnt gari that they put aside in another dish, probably to feed to the chickens ;) I was much better at the sifting and actually did it for quite some time while Atawu went to prepare lunch. That said, the fact that they will roast and sell the gari I sifted isn’t saying much about any future as a gari processor since the sifting is like playing in a sandbox. As payment for our not-so-hard work (and probably more for the entertainment I provided), Adisa and Atawu gave us a handsome gift of three fried fish. I can’t say I’ve ever tasted a fish so delicious. It was delivered fresh in a bucket when we arrived at their compound (probably not long after it was caught), fried with some salt and oil, and hot from the pan into my mouth.

This eating food straight from the source is one thing I could get really used to. Dramain’s cousin has a small maize farm beside his house. We went to visit and he chopped a few off the stalk for us to take back to Boga’s. We threw them on the fire and, minutes later, enjoyed some delicious corn on the cob.

I’ve always thought it was neat to be able to grow your own food and I don’t think I’ve fully appreciated the concept of depending on your own hard work for the daily meal until now. Then again, it’s easy for me to say because if my vegetables don’t grow, I can easily run down to the market and buy some substitutes with no problems. We read a lot about diversification and not putting all your eggs in one basket but it’s certainly something else to see first-hand how important it is to depend on more than just the weather for your basic needs. Dramain showed me a hay-weaved storage shed on their farm that got blown down by strong winds and took a bunch of yams with it.

So those are just a few experiences from my first village stay and I’ll hopefully be doing another in August. I took a few photos - http://picasaweb.google.com/ewinchiu/2007061722VillageStayInKafaba - and even a video of the maize pounding (but you’ll have to wait to see the video because there’s no way it’ll load on this connection!).

I’ll end off with a quick recap of my day yesterday. It started with a trip to the slaughterhouse down the road from my house with Soma. We watched three cows get slaughtered and, surprisingly enough, my stomach didn’t even think of doing a flip and I still have no hesitation in digging into a nice juicy steak. The most impressive thing was the speed with which these butchers can work. In about 20 minutes, a cow went from bucking and fighting for his life to having his stomach poured out and hide washed off as a second cow was pulled into the little building. (Don’t worry to all my vegetarian friends and those of you with easily disturbed stomachs; you won’t be seeing any pictures of this in my photo album.)

After that eventful start to the day, Mel and I got a crash course in batik material and even got to make some of our own! Our lesson came from Madame Janet, Apoorva’s host mother last year and a Rural Enterprise Projects (REP) client who does batik, tie-dye material, and soap making. (REP is the organization that Kathryn, Carleton’s first long-term overseas volunteer, worked with from August 2006 until just a few weeks ago.) We started at 8 a.m. and left just after 4, all satisfied with a day of work and quite ready for a good nap. I documented the day with photos, which you can find here: http://picasaweb.google.com/ewinchiu/20070630BatikWithMadameJanet (see captions for explanations). It’s a pretty straight-forward process and would be a super fun activity to do at home if we could figure out where to get all the chemicals and whatnot.

So we’ll leave it at that for now. All the Ghanaian JFs, long-terms and support staff will be gathering next weekend for our mid-summer retreat and I’m ridiculously pumped for that! We’ll have a day off on Saturday to be tourists and visit Mole National Park. Hopefully I’ll have some sweet wildlife photos to share for the next update :)

Routine?

We’ll start this one with a moment of silence for my dear Senators. … I heard they even scored on themselves in the losing match so… maybe this one was deserved? There’s always next year, right?

Moving along… many people have been asking “what are you actually doing there?!” and since my days have started taking some semblance of routine, I thought I would do a “day in the life” sort of thing and tie in some explanation of work.

(I’ll also take this chance to apologize to any haters of parentheses. I’m well aware of my overuse and abuse of this amazing grammatical tool, but it’s probably just an indication of my tendency to digress or need to include as much information as possible. If it gets too much for you, feel free to throw in a “stop with the bloody brackets!” in the comments and I’ll consider toning it down…)

Mornings

At about 5 a.m., the sound of prayer chanting from the small open mosque attached to my compound rouses me out of sleep. I drift in and out of wakefulness until finally rolling out of bed any time between 5 and 6:30 to take my bucket shower (with water from the well just a few feet from the compound). We enjoy a breakfast of tea and bread and are entertained by Muzachir running away from Kitten (Yes, we named the kitten “Kitten”. Yes, it was my idea.) and repeatedly burning his tongue on the hot tea (you would think he’d learn after the first 47 times). By 7:50, I’m ready to hop on the bike and make the short trek to work.

Work

Although it was initially said that my placement is with NORPREP (Northern Region Poverty Reduction Programme), it is actually a placement at the District Assembly that started with Kristy, the long-term volunteer who got involved with the District Assemblies through her partnership with NORPREP. What is a District Assembly, you ask? In 1988, the Government of Ghana started a decentralization process to transfer decision making power from a national level to a regional/district level – the District Assembly (DA). You could compare the DA to city hall, except it manages many communities instead of just one city. (East Gonja is the largest district in the country with over 600 communities!)

This summer, I’m one of four JFs placed at the DAs. We’re working directly with the District Planning and Coordinating Units (DPCUs) and are paired with the District Planning Officers (DPOs). Right now, we’re still in the first phase of the placement during which we’re focusing on learning about the DAs and our particular districts and building trust with our co-workers. This includes asking lots of questions to different people working at the DA and getting a sense of how things are done here (i.e., how projects are implemented, where funds come from, what challenges people face, etc.).

In terms of actual activities I’ve been taking part in, that includes a site visit to some NORREP projects (a school and also two dams being built – a few photos here with one of Kitten for good measure), interviews with different departments in the DA, observing a water and sanitation forum, attending a workshop in Tamale where a new database program was introduced (although I’m quite doubtful of the usefulness of said program), and some small computer training lessons we started last week. We’ll be doing beginner classes (who are starting from a clean slate – “what is a program” and “how to use the mouse”) and intermediate classes. The intermediate participants have some experience computers and use the basic features of Word or Excel on a regular basis. My goal with these ones is to build up their confidence so that they’ll be able to move about without always looking for approval and, eventually, be able to troubleshoot and tackle any problems on their own. This week, I’ll be doing a workshop with the core DPCU to discuss areas of improvement within the DA and figure out if there is any way I can facilitate that process.

One challenge I’ve encountered at the office is the pace of work and lack of structure. It’s strange to go from working in a retail environment where you’re required to be there five minutes before the shift starts to a place where people won’t really notice if you arrive two hours “late”… I used the quotations because late is really a relative term. That said, I’ve come to really appreciate taking a break and just enjoying a conversation instead of worrying about the time or the work that one should be doing. My favourite days at work so far have been centred around spontaneous conversations with Prosper, the DPO. We chat about anything and everything – Ghana, development stuff, education, religion, Canada, rice farming, technology, music, etc. – and I truly believe that if Prosper was Ruler of Earth, the world would be a pretty sweet place to for everyone live in.

As for lunch, I’ve recently started enjoying my friend Rafiat’s delicious cooking. She’s the Budget Officer’s Assistant and lives very close to the office so, when 12 o’clock hits, we hop over to her place for some rice and soup. (By “soup” I mean “assorted sauce/stew topping on the rice with some type of meat ingredient. I think I failed to mention this in the food-themed entry: most meals we enjoy here consist of a staple – T.Z., fufu, rice, kenke, or banku – and a soup or stew – groundnut, okra, tomato-based, etc.)

Evenings

I usually leave work at around 5:30 and get home as dinner is being prepared. I’m happy to announce that I’ve been promoted from simple Observer of Meal Preparations to Holder of Flashlight (when it’s “lights-off”) or Stirrer of Soup. While this is just a small step, I can say that the special guest treatment has definitely decreased, although I doubt it will ever fully disappear. It’s now possible for me to fetch water from the well without hassle (although the hands trying to grab my bucket still pop up out of nowhere from time to time) and I even did my own laundry from start to finish this weekend! (I’ll admit that everyone was at Arabic classes so no one was around to take over for me, but let’s just let that one slide…)

After the prayers, which vary from 6 to 7 p.m., we chow down on T.Z. or rice or rice balls or fufu with the aforementioned soup/stew.

After dinner, Soma and I head might into town, roam about the main street that’s always lined with people sitting in little clusters, and stop to chat with friends. (Soma is Ussif, the 17 year old brother mentioned in the previous post. I realized that everyone calls him Soma, which was his grandfather’s name, and calling him Ussif started to feel quite strange.) As fun as this roaming can be, the case is usually the old lady in me kicking in after dinner and me crawling into the bed net and hitting the sack as early as 8.

So that’s the average day, but the word “routine” should be used with caution. It’s not uncommon for people around the office to find out upon arrival that they’ll be traveling to Tamale for a random workshop or to pick up some equipment. Another wrench in the gears these days is the rolling blackouts that happen every two days. The country is suffering a bit of an energy crisis – the Aksomobo Dam, Ghana’s main power supplier, is running only one of its six turbines because of the low rains last rainy season. To cope with the power shortage, the entire country is experiencing systematic power outages, what we call “lights-out.” It varies from area to area but, here in Salaga, the power is out every other day for 12-hour chunks, alternating between day and night. For example, the power was out on Sunday 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. so it will be off again on Tuesday from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m., then again on Thursday during the day, etc. These are the scheduled power outages, but it’s not uncommon for the lights to go out unexpectedly for a few hours when they should be on. Knowing when you’ll have power and when you won’t, it’s not so bad - you just have to make it a part of your day and plan around it. That said, when it happens during the work day, people are really thrown off. The fans and lights are off so no one wants to sit inside, computers can’t be used, and productivity just plummets. With the start of the rainy season, routine will break even more. Since most people get around on bicycles and motorbikes, rain equals hiding inside. I’ve found myself stranded at Rafiat’s for a few hours in the middle of the work day because of a crazy rain storm (although the power was out anyways). During the pre-departure training in Toronto, one big message shared was that we would have to learn to be comfortable with ambiguity. It’s definitely been challenging for the kid who checks the Weather Network (daily, long range, and school day forecast) every morning before getting dressed, but this ambiguity thing is becoming more and more comfortable as the days pass.

A Home... Finally!

Yesterday, I made my first landlord-renter transaction ever – 180,000 cedis… roughly $20 Canadian! It’s hard to believe that I’ve paid more for a CD or a single fancy dinner than I’m paying to live and eat with a lovely family for 3.5 months.

Mr. and Mrs. Zarkari

My host parents seem to be quite prominent members of the community with their various endeavours and activities – more on that later. Mr. Z speaks English and we’ve eaten quite a few breakfasts and dinners together so we’ve had the chance to chat a bit. He’s a sweet man with great hopes for his children, who are all currently in school or waiting on results. Mrs. Zarkari runs a provisions store and normally doesn’t come home until 9 p.m., about the time I’m tucking in the bed net, so we’ve haven’t spent very much time together. Coupled with the fact that she doesn’t speak English, the few times we’ve breakfasted together have been relatively quiet affairs. They’re a lovely couple with six children, five of which live in the compound with us.

Ayisheia

Born just over two months after me, Ayisheia is the oldest daughter. She just finished Junior Secondary School and is waiting on her final results to see where she’ll be attending Senior Secondary School. With their mother at the store from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m., Ayisheia does the majority of the cooking, but shares most duties with the other older siblings. She’s quite intent to treat me like a first-class guest for the duration of my stay, something I hope to sway throughout the summer. With no school or work on Friday, African Union Day, we decided to do some laundry. Watching my poor technique, she rewashed every article of clothing I threw in the bucket!

Ussif

Turning 17 in a few days, Ussif is the oldest son of this couple, although Mr. Zarkari has a 23 year old son (who doesn’t live here) with another woman no longer a part of their lives (I think… didn’t really want to pry). Ussif has been the most helpful in my quest to learn Gonja and also about their family and the way they live. He has promised to take me to see the family’s farm and their cattle, something I’m quite excited about. Like Ayisheia, he just finished JSS and wants to go to Tamale for SSS, but that will depend on his test results (which I’ll be here to celebrate in August).

Tahira

At 14 years old, Tahira speaks the best English of anyone in the household and, with Ussif, has been my closest friend thus far. She’s a fairly quiet girl but when she smiles, the room lights up. She enjoys school (currently in her sixth and final year of primary school) and math is her favourite subject – brownie points from me! She took me on a bicycle tour around Salaga and I hope to spend much more time with her.

Suleman

When told that Suleman wants to be my husband, I replied that 7 years old is too young for me! He is also in primary school but hasn’t been around the compound that much so I don’t have any fond memories of him yet.

Muzachir

Like any two year old boy, Muzachir loves to play with bugs, dead or alive, and eats more than I ever thought possible for a small infant to ingest. My favourite memory of Muzachir thus far is him chasing Ayisheia around the compound with a butter knife, presumably because she wouldn’t give him any more bread to eat.

You may notice that I’ve only mentioned five children while I said there are six. There is a 10 year old daughter, Ramatu, who is currently attending primary school in Kumasi, the city where their mother is originally from. And while I’ve “profiled” the five children who born to this couple, it often feels like there are at least 15 children running around the place and I think there may be one or two who actually live here... still a bit confused about that one. People talk about a sense of community and I never really understood what that meant until coming here. While we were washing clothes, some neighbours walked into the compound and just dove in and start washing with us. The same thing happens during meal preparations and definitely the consumption of the meals as well!

I also mentioned that my host family is involved in a number of income generating activities, summarizing: the provisions store (which they plan to expand); the farm (used for both subsistence and commission) where they grow yams, cassava, maize, and rice; the cattle farm; two large trucks that get rented out to people who need to transport goods between cities/towns; and an 8-bedroom compound (being built) that will be rented out. With all these different activities, the family is relatively well off. The children attend private schools, though this doesn’t carry nearly the same meaning as it does in Canada. Tahira showed me their schools on our mini tour and it definitely doesn’t look like the students are paying to attend, but she says the curriculum is much better at the private schools than the public schools.

The compound, located near the new market (which is currently just a block of wooden stalls but become a bustling market every six days), is in excellent condition. There are six rooms, two of which are split into a living room and bedroom (one for each of the parents). Of the other four, I occupy one room, one is used for storage, the girls are in one, and the boys are in the fourth. There is a “kitchen” type area, two stalls for bucket showers, and a household latrine, a relative luxury since the majority around these parts practise “free range” – basically relieving yourself in a field or behind a nice bush.

On my second night here, Ayisheia knocked on my door and told me to come see myself on tv! I threw on my flip flops, rushed to the tv room (the living room part of Mr. Z’s quarters), and found Ussif and some other neighbourhood kids gathered around a super corny 1980’s kung fu movie. It was in English, though the accent really threw me off (sounded Australian mixed with American), and there were both Caucasians and Asians running around the screen transforming into “Nin-jas” (according to the label on their headbands). What?! I’m not sure if there was an actual plot but there seemed to be different stories being told with varying degrees of seriousness. One involved the search for a sacred ninja manual while another showed a girl being chased down and beaten (thankfully, they didn’t show the rape, though that was implied). The latter concluded with the rapists being captured and sent to jail while the former ended with the lead moustached ninja taking a sword to the chest. After this one, we enjoyed a Japanese ninja movie (I think they were disappointed that it wasn’t “my people”) and a Nigerian film called “Women in Power” (though I almost fell asleep several times during this one and didn’t stay till the end). I’ve been told that many Ghanaians enjoy Harry Potter when they see it because they can relate to the magic thing (juju is still heavily ingrained in Ghanaian beliefs) so maybe I’ll try to find a copy in the market. Last night we watched "Banlieu 13," a movie from France dubbed in English. I have to say, it was actually quite a good film with some excellent plot twists and sweet action packed fight scenes - a good break from the other dumbed-down ninja films!

I think I’ve taken enough of your time today, so I’ll just end off with a few photos... http://picasaweb.google.com/ewinchiu/20070526HostFamily

E-mail Updates

Hi everyone!

I set up a Google group that will send you an e-mail whenever I update my blog - sweet!

For my mom (and anyone else not sure how to do this):

1. Go to http://groups.google.com/group/evonne-in-ghana/
2. Click "Join this group" on the right.
3. Sign in to your Google account and you're set!

If you don't have a Google account... get one. It'll change your life. Seriously.

If you really don't want to get a google account, send me an e-mail and I'll 1) share tales about the joys of using gmail, Google Calendar, Google Documents, Picasa, Google Maps, Blogger, and 2) add you to another list to get the notifications.

I'll be moving into my new place today so more stories to share about that soon!

:)

Note: This post was an unpaid advertisement for Google and all affiliated services. Honestly, what are you waiting for?

A First Taste...

I’ll be honest with all of you – this first blog entry has been procrastinated and delayed several times. Overloaded with lots of “new”, my thoughts have been all over the board and nowhere near straightforward enough to add up to an insightful blog entry. But I know some people (i.e., my parents) are curious to hear about what’s been happening since I left Orleans three weeks ago. Without any clear objective or message, I’ve jotted down a few experiences linked to different foods since, being a Winchiu, food is life. I apologize in advance for the inconsistency in tense, feeling, writing style, and thought pattern. Hopefully this little snack will tide you over until I can come up with something a little meatier.

Gelato in Milan

Between Toronto and Accra, we had a long lay-over in Italy so a trip into Milan was in order. The city is seeped in history and the architecture is really beautiful. With 16 JFs travelling together, we broke up into little groups to explore the town - I spent the day with Jad, Sean, Dan, and Shawn. We stumbled upon a little pizzeria with a friendly owner and were quite excited to try some genuine (jen-you-win, Luke :) Italian pizza – but, alas, we stumbled too soon. Fairly early in the morning, we were told that restaurants wouldn’t be open for several hours. Luckily, we found a little gelato store that was open and had our fill of sweet, sweet frozen dairy product. Though I didn’t get any gelato shots, the tourist-with-camera-in-hand mode was in full swing in Milan: http://picasaweb.google.com/ewinchiu/20070507Milan.

Fried Egg Sandwiches

We stop in a town near Kintampo Falls and Sean and I venture off to get some food. Reaching into my pocket for money to pay for the food, a giant gust of wind pulls me out of my seat. I hear Kristy’s voice ring out: “Run! Get back to the bus!” As we dash for the bus, fried egg sandwiches in hand, the heavens open up and give us sweet relief from the sticky heat. Soaked, we climb back into our seats and the bus is off again. It rolls along and the wind rushes in through the open window, cooling my body to pure comfort – nature’s air conditioning at its best! Sitting between Gwen and an ex-military man turned farmer, I look out the window and see a familiar face. Looking much more relaxed than his usual

upright action-ready stance, trusty Orion stares back at me reassuringly – the only constellation I can ever identify with certainty. Such was the highlight of a 14-hour bus ride from Accra to Tamale.

We arrived in Accra, the capital of Ghana, on Monday night (the 7^th) and the group split into two – those working/training in the south and the others (the majority) in the north. We traveled to Tamale, the capital of the Northern Region, on Tuesday and spent the rest of the week doing in-country training and getting to know the ins-and-outs of getting about.

Wotche (sp?)

Sitting at a stall eating wotche (rice with sauce) for breakfast in Tamale, I got my first marriage proposal (of what I’ve been told will be many). Dining with fellow JFs Gillian, Laura, and Sean, we were a big group of salamingas (foreigners) being watched with curiosity by the ladies and men around the stall. Even though Tamale is a big NGO town with lots of salamingas, we still attract lots of attention when walking down the street. It’s a bit strange having people stare at you while you eat, but the smile that breaks out when you stare back and greet them in Dagbani is priceless.

But back to the marriage proposal, somethin

g like “China! I want to marry you!” came from a gentleman sitting beside Sean.

“Ah! Why do you want to marry me? I cannot cook. I cannot clean. If you want to marry me, you must cook and clean for me too!” I reply, eliciting laughter from all the ladies and the other JFs.

“That is not in my traditional role. I want to marry you so you can take me to China!”

Sean starts negotiating the number of cows the man will have to pay for my bride price. To my parents’ relief, no agreement is made.

Later on, Sean says he didn’t have the heart to tell the man that I am, in fact, Canadian, born in South Africa, and have never been to China. Telling people I’m from Canada, I sometimes get a look of confusion – “No China? Japan?”. Telling people I was born in South Africa, a look of excitement comes out – “Ah! So you are African too!”

Jollof Rice and Fanta

For three of the six nights we spent in Tamale, we were invited to dinner at Amshaw’s house. Amshaw is a good friend of Kristy, a long-term EWB volunteer and the coach for the NORPREP and CWSA junior fellows. The first night there was just Kristy and the four NORPREP JFs (Sean, Dan, Gillian, and I). Enjoying a delicious dinner of jollof rice sitting under the stars watching Wynham (Amshaw’s 2-year-old son, pictured above) stuff himself silly with Fanta was definitely my favourite meal in Tamale. The amazing food is one reason the evening was so great but, more than that, it was the company and relaxed conversation that made it really fantastic. The other two nights, Amshaw invited all the JFs (at least, the ones still in Tamale) and we had T.Z. and boiled yams. On the third night, my camera got passed around the room, resulting in http://picasaweb.google.com/ewinchiu/20070512DinnerAtAmshawS.

T.Z.

Though I don’t have a story to go with T.Z., it’s a good way to link where I am now with some sort of food. T.Z. is the main dish eaten in Salaga, capital of the East Gonja District where I will be for the rest of the summer. Kristy and I hopped in a tro-tro (what can best be described as a very old minibus crammed with as many people as possible) and traveled down here on Monday, a bumpy 2.5 hour journey. We spent the day meeting my new co-workers and Kristy’s friends and crashed at her friend Shamuna’s place. I am now staying at the District Chief Executive’s old house – a massive 5-bedroom bungalow with air conditioning a little ways out of town, definitely not the ideal situation for integrating into the community. We’ve got half the town looking for a room in a family compound where I can live for the rest of the summer. I’m really itching to stop living out of the backpack and start enjoying a steady T.Z. dinner routine with a host family. I took a few pictures of my 5:30 a.m. alarm clock and my shiny, red bicycle: http://picasaweb.google.com/ewinchiu/20070519DCEResidence.

Whenever someone is enjoying a meal here, they will tell you that “you are invited” to share with them. I hope this has been a tasty read and you are invited to share all the meals (and experiences) to come…