Wow! I haven't had a post up in about three weeks!
Well, in three weeks, I lost 15 pounds (this is not a good thing), got sick for the first time (it wasn't too bad, I just had to get rid of the thing that I ate. Although admittedly, it is not fun when food at various stages of digestion goes out of both ends of your GI tract at a hundred miles per hour), watched the dismembering of a goat (tastes like chicken), saw the arrival of seven new volunteers (in the town, there are now six German girls, two Swedish girls, and one German guy (I haven't met him yet), and been continuing to learn more of the work at the hospital.
There should be epic poems composed about how much I have read in the last three weeks. I have read "Things They Carried" (awesome book, couldn't recommend it more- I read it in one sitting), "Witch of Portobello", "Molokai", "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao", "Crime and Punishment" (I started reading this before I came back from the Kakum/beach), and "Atlas Shrugged". At the hospital, after the initial flurry of activity in the first two hours (making beds, dressing wounds, removing stitches, etc), my job consists of monitoring vital signs every 15 minutes to an hour, so I take the three to four hours at the hospital during which I would otherwise be idle as well as the two or three additional hours at home after work to read. Unfortunately, I have exhausted my library, but tomorrow I will take the one hour tro tro ride to go to the nearest big town to pick up science textbooks that I asked my parents to send me.
I have been exercising very rigorously. Everyday, I do 300 push ups and 500 sit ups, and either run for 30 to 90 minutes (sometimes joined by Philine but usually by myself), or play soccer. The running trails here are beautiful. Once I run five minutes away from the house, I feel like that I am in an episode of Man vs. Wild, and I'm Bear Grylls venturing through the vast, green, interminable African jungle. A couple of times, I have gotten lost (very scary), but other than that, the runs are awesome. I never thought that I would enjoy running so much.
There is no other way to put it: I'm happy here. I've been told that human beings are the happiest when they have a daily routine, and so far, I have found out that this is true. In addition to waking up early and doing everything with a 100 % effort and fervent passion, achieving a comfort level with the Ghanaian culture has helped immensely. Somehow, I am just as comfortable here in the village using bucket showers (sometimes rain showers) as I am swimming in the pool in my parent's dream house.
It is rainy season. Sometimes, it feels like that the man or woman upstairs forgot to turn off the faucet to the sky. Perpetual puddles occupied by hundreds of tadpoles have formed in some of the paths. When it is raining hard enough, I take my shampoo and body wash and take a shower in the rain. It is actually very economic: saves the human effort of having to fetch water from the well.
If I could change one thing, it would be the presence of a piano. I have been inquiring constantly for the wooden instrument, but so far, I have not had any luck. Sometimes, I feel like a part of my soul is missing.
It is so weird whenever I come to the Internet Cafe and go on facebook, I see everyone back home posting about how college/high school is. It feels like high school was a lifetime ago. It's just a blurred memory that comes back once in a while.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
"Urgent"
Sorry about the absence of a blog in the recent days. I wrote one three days ago, but it turned out so dull that I decided not to post it.
Meanwhile, I have made it a daily routine to play soccer with my Ghanaian friends. The goals are a pair of rocks placed two to three feet apart and the field is on rather a severe slope, but it is refreshing to be able to compete athletically. Soccer is not my sport: in eighth grade I tried out for goalie, but instead of blocking the ball, I repeatedly panicked and rugby tackled the oncoming strikers instead. Surprisingly, attempt two has been better, as I have been competing at an acceptable level. This phenomenon can only be explained by the fact that I am the only person wearing close-toed shoes.
I started at the hospital yesterday. I was supposed to start last Monday but a series of professional mishaps combined to prevent me from possessing the paperwork necessary for me to start until this Tuesday afternoon, and as Wednesday was a national Muslim holiday, I finally was able to go to work yesterday. Tangentially, although Ghana is obviously a Christian country, there is no visible friction between the Muslim minority and the Christian majority.
The hospital is well run and organized, which is really all you can ask for in a rural hospital in the developing world. Yet, there is an obvious lack of funding and urgency. In the Western world, there are machines to measure vital signs, but here in Africa, one must do it by hand. So, one has to count the pulse for a span of a minute, measure blood pressure in a very rudimentary way, and count the number of times that the patient inhales and exhales in a course of a minute. This task and ferrying blood from the blood bank to the operating room for blood transfusions have been entrusted to me.
Additionally, there is an utter lack of urgency in the hospital. A patient under operation had life threatening levels of hemoglobin, so I was sent to the blood bank "urgently" to fetch some blood. I found that there was no one in the blood bank, so I had to go to the front desk, then to the lab, to have a guy, who was talking on the phone and laughing, ambling in ten minutes later. The guy seemed to have some trouble finding the blood, and once he did, I had to wait for it to be warmed for another five minutes. Luckily, the patient survived.
The children at the orphanage have heartbreaking stories. A lot of the little ones did not even have any clothes to wear and many were starving before they came to the orphanage. This makes you subconsciously exaggerate, or otherwise invent their positive qualities because you are so overcome by their unfortunate circumstances. As an adviser of mine put it, I have to be careful to not let the emotional override the rational while working with the kids in the orphanage. All their needs cannot be met, and it would simply be unrealistic to expect them to be.
More optimistically, Julia and I will be heading to Cape Coast/Elmina tomorrow where we will be joined by Bianca. Bianca is riding the 12 hour bus from Tamale to Accra today and tomorrow, she will ride the three hour bus from Accra to Cape Coast. Unfortunately, after this trip, she will be going back to Belgium.
A great thing about living in a developing country is that the travel costs are insanely cheap. A bad thing about living in a developing country is that you never know when a road will be abruptly broken by a river and when you will have to charter a canoe to get to the other side.... Anyway, barring road flooding, this will be a very welcome get away.
Meanwhile, I have made it a daily routine to play soccer with my Ghanaian friends. The goals are a pair of rocks placed two to three feet apart and the field is on rather a severe slope, but it is refreshing to be able to compete athletically. Soccer is not my sport: in eighth grade I tried out for goalie, but instead of blocking the ball, I repeatedly panicked and rugby tackled the oncoming strikers instead. Surprisingly, attempt two has been better, as I have been competing at an acceptable level. This phenomenon can only be explained by the fact that I am the only person wearing close-toed shoes.
I started at the hospital yesterday. I was supposed to start last Monday but a series of professional mishaps combined to prevent me from possessing the paperwork necessary for me to start until this Tuesday afternoon, and as Wednesday was a national Muslim holiday, I finally was able to go to work yesterday. Tangentially, although Ghana is obviously a Christian country, there is no visible friction between the Muslim minority and the Christian majority.
The hospital is well run and organized, which is really all you can ask for in a rural hospital in the developing world. Yet, there is an obvious lack of funding and urgency. In the Western world, there are machines to measure vital signs, but here in Africa, one must do it by hand. So, one has to count the pulse for a span of a minute, measure blood pressure in a very rudimentary way, and count the number of times that the patient inhales and exhales in a course of a minute. This task and ferrying blood from the blood bank to the operating room for blood transfusions have been entrusted to me.
Additionally, there is an utter lack of urgency in the hospital. A patient under operation had life threatening levels of hemoglobin, so I was sent to the blood bank "urgently" to fetch some blood. I found that there was no one in the blood bank, so I had to go to the front desk, then to the lab, to have a guy, who was talking on the phone and laughing, ambling in ten minutes later. The guy seemed to have some trouble finding the blood, and once he did, I had to wait for it to be warmed for another five minutes. Luckily, the patient survived.
The children at the orphanage have heartbreaking stories. A lot of the little ones did not even have any clothes to wear and many were starving before they came to the orphanage. This makes you subconsciously exaggerate, or otherwise invent their positive qualities because you are so overcome by their unfortunate circumstances. As an adviser of mine put it, I have to be careful to not let the emotional override the rational while working with the kids in the orphanage. All their needs cannot be met, and it would simply be unrealistic to expect them to be.
More optimistically, Julia and I will be heading to Cape Coast/Elmina tomorrow where we will be joined by Bianca. Bianca is riding the 12 hour bus from Tamale to Accra today and tomorrow, she will ride the three hour bus from Accra to Cape Coast. Unfortunately, after this trip, she will be going back to Belgium.
A great thing about living in a developing country is that the travel costs are insanely cheap. A bad thing about living in a developing country is that you never know when a road will be abruptly broken by a river and when you will have to charter a canoe to get to the other side.... Anyway, barring road flooding, this will be a very welcome get away.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Evangelical Hallmark Company
George and his uncle
Grinding up fufu
Yesterday, I received my fourth marriage proposal this week. It should be flattering, but it has become tedious to repeatedly say no. Apparently, Ching Chong Obruni is a hot commodity. In seriousness, a lot of foreigners encounter this phenomenon if they stay in Ghana for an extended amount of time. Ghanaians often look up to foreigners, assuming that they are rich and have the power to bring them and their family out of poverty.
Much to my chagrin, my room, or more aptly, my cave, is right next to a rooster hang out spot. That means at 4:00 A.M. every morning, I wake up to the rooster's ear splitting "cuckoo-ing." In my first day, I was so irritated with the "foul" creature that I made up my mind to silence the fowl by all possible means only to find out that the bird is safely ensconced in a cage. I have tried to poke it into silence with a stick, suggested eating it to my host mother, and thrown rocks at it. But the rooster is still a reliable alarm clock, only set three hours too early. One effect of living up and close to chickens is that I will never have any more moral qualms about eating them. They honestly are one of the dumbest, most irritating, and the nastiest creatures alive.
Speaking of animals, I have not seen the family feed the livestock/"pets". The family does not have enough money to feed both the animals and the children. The goats roam around the village eating some truly disgusting things, and I imagine that the dogs hunt at night. The dogs here are nocturnal- I imagine that they are descendants of some tropical wild dog that slept during the hottest parts of the day and hunted during the cool parts. Anyway, perhaps because these dogs have to fend for themselves, they are sharper than most Western dogs. One time, I was lost in a bush trail during an imprudent late night walk only to realize that one of the dogs had been following me the whole time. When I paused, the dog ran ten yards ahead of me, looked back, and when I caught up, the dog repeated the routine until we got to the house.
Ghana is the most flagrantly Christian country that I have seen. Ghanaians like to show their faith in the naming of their businesses. I would estimate that eight out of ten tro tros here have decal that doesn't say its destination, but religious messages. These are appropriate messages for Ghanaian tro tros. Tro tros are the mass transit vehicles that typically are 20-30 year old van designed to seat six, but modified to seat 25. These understandably have a very high fatal accident rate. So the messages of "pray" is quite apt while braving these unpredictable vehicles. Cumulatively, especially when you encounter Trust in God Hair Saloon, Innocent Blood Restaurant, and Virgin Club, it feels like you are stuck in a world run by an evangelical Hallmark company.
Pa, the youngest, pooped on me. I was lifting him when I heard a farting sound, and when I looked down, there was a nasty green goo on Julia's bed and on my clothes. I wish there were diapers, but when you're pressed for cash, you have to make do.
Well, some things...
Rebecca is leaving tomorrow for Germany.
Next week, Julia and I plan to take a trip to a lake to break the restless monotony of village life.
Monday, hopefully, I will start at the hospital.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Ching Chong and Fufu
From Yesterday- (8-24-11)
Notice the sticker on Julia's forehead
Drawing lesson
Reading time
The market at a nearby town
More of the market
Rebecca with a kid
My host mother is a wonderful person. She was abused by her step-mother when she was a kid, and she vowed to alleviate the suffering of others. She found some of the kids living on the streets literally without any clothes and adopted them. There is no nepotism toward her own children - she treats the orphans the same as her kids. Because of the additional burden of orphans, she is not able to give her children the same opportunities that she would have otherwise been able to provide.
The orphanage/house is seriously lacking in supplies. There is no running water, most of the children do not have clothing that fit, and no one has proper shoes. If anyone could help out, please send me a message on facebook or comment here.
Anyway, due to some unbelievable professional irresponsibility from the hospital, I do not have the paperwork to start until Monday. I almost exploded on those semi-responsible, but thankfully did not say many things that I will regret.
So I have been helping in the orphanage - yesterday we took the kids out to the soccer park (well, a clearing in the forest), and one of the kids kicked the ball into the dense brush. So while the bigger kids were in the brush looking for the ball, I realized that the littlest one (18 months) was missing. We only discovered where he was because he started crying out - it turns out that he crawled into the brush following the bigger kids and disturbed some African ants. We had to undress him, take the ants off the clothes, and brush off his body free of ants. An unforeseen consequence of this misfortune is that the toddlers, seeing Pa (the baby) naked, thought that it would be cool if they also striped butt naked. We spent the next five minutes tracking down the kids to put some clothes on them.
The obrunis like going to a "spot" where they can get away from the bustle of the kids and do some Western activities. Going to the "spot" with the Germans in the evenings has become the favorite part of my day - sitting outside and looking at the African stars is very relaxing.
Yesterday, after we came back from the soccer park, I met a Ghanaian 17 year old, George, who asked if I would like to play soccer with his friends. I agreed and we went to his house, and played a game of two v two soccer. The goals each consisted of two rocks placed five yards apart. Afterwards, I met rest of his siblings, Elvis (20), Derek (19), Theophillius (14), and Eunice (I don't remember her age), his cousins, his uncles, and his parents.
In Ghana, a test that parallels the American SAT is called the ICT - it measures basic computer literacy. So parents with multiple children try their best to acquire computers that their kids can practice on. Admittedly, the electronic device looked out of place, but the mom, seeing a obruni, asked me to type something. I did so at a blazing pace, and in Ghana, being able to type fast is apparently an important skill, so they were amazed. Tangentially, speaking of finger exercises, I have not been able to find a piano in the village and have repeatedly caught myself playing lap piano.
Anyway, their mom, Mrs. Botwe, made me stay for dinner, and I thought that it would be impolite to refuse, so I ate fufu, a ground up mixture of plantains and cassava with a fish soup, with the boys. Traditionally, in Ghana, one does not use silverware to eat, but instead uses his or her right hand to eat the food out of a communal bowl. It is much like some Korean style of dining, minus the silverware. I will try to post a picture of it sometime.
I did not eat my usual amount at the Botwes because I knew that my host mother prepared a meal for me at home and knew that her feelings would be hurt if I do not eat all of her food. I painfully forced down the usual massive amount of starch, but I let it slip that I ate some fufu at the Botwes. Her feelings were hurt. She is a simple, good hearted person who loves taking care of people. Unfortunately, it is a slight to her hospitality that I ate at an another house, so next time, I'll be sure to omit my culinary adventures in a conversation with her.
Anyway, it is a thirty minute round trip from the Internet Cafe to the house - luckily the village installed one a couple of months before I arrived, otherwise I would have no Internet access. I figured out how to circumvent the system to maximize my Internet time. I found a way to pay for one hour of Internet time, and use it for five hours. So, I will be able to write more frequently here.
More to come....
Monday, August 22, 2011
More Village Life
Taking a walk in the village
Paw
The one on the right is Kingsley
Village life is very interesting. Whenever a foreigner walks anywhere, he or she is greeted by the cries of "obruni!" which means foreigner. It is not meant to be offensive, they just like to say it. Couple of times, I said "babini" back, which means black person, but then they just laughed and kept saying "obruni" just to hear me say "babini." Also, among the Ghanaians in the village who can distinguish between a White person and an Asian person (for a lot of the villagers, I am the first Asian person that they have seen), I am greeted by the calls of "China!" at which, I alternatively answer back "Korea!" or "America!"
The fact that the official language of Ghana is English is misleading. Almost all Ghanaians speak a tribal dialect at home, and learn English at school. Additionally, since a lot of Ghanaians did not attend school, it is sometimes impossible to communicate effectively without resorting to ludicrous hand motions. I will try to utilize my amazing language skills *sarcasm* to learn Twi (the local language).
Antonia left for Germany today. She has been in Akwatia for a whole year teaching at the primary school. The Ghanaian church threw a party for her on Sunday and unveiled a plaque at the school with her name on it. She was very sad about leaving, and she plans to visit in the next year or two.
Since Antonia left, there are three "obrunis" left in the village. Today, I was supposed to start at the hospital, but the person from SYTO who was supposed to give me the orientation did not come but instead said he'll come tomorrow. Welcome to Africa!
Anyway, after the tearful goodbyes to Antonia, the two Germans and I went shopping. It only costs 10 Cedis ($6.66) for a hand made dress, so the girls visited various seamstresses ordering clothing while I was able to buy a charger for my cellphone
Since I have been in Ghana, I have not felt clean. The host family does not have running water, so in order to wash yourself, you have to fetch water from the well. Also, the fact that the children in the orphanage pee in the shower does not make the experience any cleaner. I have literally one minute left on the Internet Cafe time so I will conclude this post later.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Village Life
From Friday-Sunday (8-19-11 to 8-21-11)
Kids at the house
"Don Pablo"
Family's goats
All these dogs do is sleep
I finally arrived at my project. The journey to Akwatia made me greatly appreciate the interstate system of the U.S. Although on a map, Akwatia appears to be less than an hour away from Accra, the road trip took four hours. The voyage involved driving on many non-roads (roads without any pavement), sitting in a shared taxi with two very huge hipped women in the back, and running over a chicken.
On the way, I became aware of some bumps on the road. These are bumps that fling you up in the air, granting you moments of weightlessness. It is much like mid-flight turbulence except that as you shoot toward the top of the tro-tro, you become painfully aware that there are no seat belts to prevent the impending spinal injury. To say it was interesting would be an understatement.
Akwatia is an strange town. It has one semi-paved road running through the "downtown" and many dirt trails leading to residential areas. It is a big town/village and most people live poorly. Exceptionally, it has two large western style houses seemingly cropping up from nowhere, providing a startling contrast to the huts and the livestock that line the paths.
My host family is large. There are twelve little kids (the host mother adopted orphans), two big kids (20 and 19), three German volunteers, one Spanish volunteer, three dogs, thirteen goats, and three cats. Although there were four volunteers, the Spaniard left this Sunday, and two Germans, Antonia and Rebecca, are respectively leaving on Monday and next Friday. So it will be just Julia and me for some time, although more volunteers will likely arrive in September.
My older host brother, Derrick, illustrates the extent of the diffusion of American pop culture. When he learned that I was from America, he continuously said things like "are there n**** running arround the hood?" "what's your n***** name? My n**** name is Don Pablo" and quotes straight out of rap songs that he implements into everyday conversation. He anointed me "Don J," if you were curious what my n**** name is.
I can confidently say that hours spent at the host family's will be slow paced. Even with the children climbing all over me, I was able to relax and read a great deal of Dostoevsky's "Crime and Punishment." There is not a lot to do here- the white people like going to this one bar (I guess you can call it a bar) where they can sit on lounge chairs and drink.
Wow! Fragmented! Well, tomorrow, I will start my work at a hospital. According to Ander, the Spaniard who I will replace, they will give you the opportunity to do things that you are not qualified for if you prove yourself, so we'll see what happens.
On the way, I became aware of some bumps on the road. These are bumps that fling you up in the air, granting you moments of weightlessness. It is much like mid-flight turbulence except that as you shoot toward the top of the tro-tro, you become painfully aware that there are no seat belts to prevent the impending spinal injury. To say it was interesting would be an understatement.
Akwatia is an strange town. It has one semi-paved road running through the "downtown" and many dirt trails leading to residential areas. It is a big town/village and most people live poorly. Exceptionally, it has two large western style houses seemingly cropping up from nowhere, providing a startling contrast to the huts and the livestock that line the paths.
My host family is large. There are twelve little kids (the host mother adopted orphans), two big kids (20 and 19), three German volunteers, one Spanish volunteer, three dogs, thirteen goats, and three cats. Although there were four volunteers, the Spaniard left this Sunday, and two Germans, Antonia and Rebecca, are respectively leaving on Monday and next Friday. So it will be just Julia and me for some time, although more volunteers will likely arrive in September.
My older host brother, Derrick, illustrates the extent of the diffusion of American pop culture. When he learned that I was from America, he continuously said things like "are there n**** running arround the hood?" "what's your n***** name? My n**** name is Don Pablo" and quotes straight out of rap songs that he implements into everyday conversation. He anointed me "Don J," if you were curious what my n**** name is.
I can confidently say that hours spent at the host family's will be slow paced. Even with the children climbing all over me, I was able to relax and read a great deal of Dostoevsky's "Crime and Punishment." There is not a lot to do here- the white people like going to this one bar (I guess you can call it a bar) where they can sit on lounge chairs and drink.
Wow! Fragmented! Well, tomorrow, I will start my work at a hospital. According to Ander, the Spaniard who I will replace, they will give you the opportunity to do things that you are not qualified for if you prove yourself, so we'll see what happens.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Black Father and Yaaaaaa
8-18-11
Today was the last day of orientation. Tomorrow, Bianca and I will be transported across Ghana to our projects, while Per Odd will stay in Accra teaching in the secondary school. Bianca will go to Tamale, twelve and a half hour bus ride from Accra, and I will go to Akwatia, a village where the nearest internet source is a twelve minute drive away. I will try to make it a daily routine to run the fifteen miles or whatever it is to the Internet Cafe as long as my flat feet hold up.
We had a Ghanaian cooking lesson on how to make a dish called Red Red. It consists of plantains fried in vegetable oil with a blend of black eyed peas, palm oil, tomatoes, onions, tomato sauce, and tuna. It was outstanding. I will be sure to add that to my already impressive culinary repertoire...
This morning, we met another German volunteer, Martina, finishing her two months in Ghana. She taught primary school kids in a town called Wale Wale. Most female volunteers receive anywhere between five to fifteen marriage proposals during their stay, and Martina was no exception. Actually, a lot of volunteers pretend to be married and carry pictures of their "husband" in order to avoid these awkward proposals.
After finishing the Red Red, we went on the last part of our orientation-the city tour. Serendipitously, my Malian friends and Martina, whose flight does not leave until Saturday, accompanied us on the tour as well.
The market was the first stop on the itinerary. It was a huge tent divided in to many sections with a shop in each. I did not buy anything, but it was not because of the lack of effort from the sellers. Like the vendors on the beach, the market vendors have to be very proactive to make a living because of the intense competition. So every time we passed a shop, they would say "Come back! I give you good price!" or compliments like "You're strong man! You must have had a black father!!!" Some of the shops were very interesting. One vendor selling goat skin African drums was cleaning the carcass of a goat from which he fashioned the drums. The market presented a little bit of a dilemma- I wanted to bring business to the vendors who struggle for a living, but I am on a tight budget.
Afterward, we went to Old Accra and saw some hideous things. Whole families living in a house that Americans would think was a dumpster (maybe it is), children bathing in a bucket inches away from the sewers, and other unimaginable poverty. Seeing this made a deep impression on the Westerners. Bianca said "I wouldn't even put my dog there"- being in Old Accra was like being on a different planet.
Upon returning to the hostel, we ate dinner and said goodbyes (Bianca will be staying in a place eleven hours away from me and we'll see about Per Odd) and I was about to write in my journal when a Swiss guy named Benny came in the dormitory. Benny, initiating his gap year with Ghana, is the replacement for Martina in the Wale Wale village. We took a walk and I told him things to watch out for in Ghana. Tangentially, I still can't get over the way that the German Swiss say "yaaaa" as an affirmative. I think that's really cool. Anyway, we conversed very easily - he is an avid traveler. Two weeks ago, he went on a ten day kayaking trip in the Finnish wilderness and last year, he volunteered in Mozambique. We made vague plans to travel together (he will be 13 hours away from Akwatia) so we'll see if those come to fruition.
I don't know if I will be able to write tomorrow, but I will have a post up by Saturday.
Today was the last day of orientation. Tomorrow, Bianca and I will be transported across Ghana to our projects, while Per Odd will stay in Accra teaching in the secondary school. Bianca will go to Tamale, twelve and a half hour bus ride from Accra, and I will go to Akwatia, a village where the nearest internet source is a twelve minute drive away. I will try to make it a daily routine to run the fifteen miles or whatever it is to the Internet Cafe as long as my flat feet hold up.
We had a Ghanaian cooking lesson on how to make a dish called Red Red. It consists of plantains fried in vegetable oil with a blend of black eyed peas, palm oil, tomatoes, onions, tomato sauce, and tuna. It was outstanding. I will be sure to add that to my already impressive culinary repertoire...
This morning, we met another German volunteer, Martina, finishing her two months in Ghana. She taught primary school kids in a town called Wale Wale. Most female volunteers receive anywhere between five to fifteen marriage proposals during their stay, and Martina was no exception. Actually, a lot of volunteers pretend to be married and carry pictures of their "husband" in order to avoid these awkward proposals.
After finishing the Red Red, we went on the last part of our orientation-the city tour. Serendipitously, my Malian friends and Martina, whose flight does not leave until Saturday, accompanied us on the tour as well.
The market was the first stop on the itinerary. It was a huge tent divided in to many sections with a shop in each. I did not buy anything, but it was not because of the lack of effort from the sellers. Like the vendors on the beach, the market vendors have to be very proactive to make a living because of the intense competition. So every time we passed a shop, they would say "Come back! I give you good price!" or compliments like "You're strong man! You must have had a black father!!!" Some of the shops were very interesting. One vendor selling goat skin African drums was cleaning the carcass of a goat from which he fashioned the drums. The market presented a little bit of a dilemma- I wanted to bring business to the vendors who struggle for a living, but I am on a tight budget.
Afterward, we went to Old Accra and saw some hideous things. Whole families living in a house that Americans would think was a dumpster (maybe it is), children bathing in a bucket inches away from the sewers, and other unimaginable poverty. Seeing this made a deep impression on the Westerners. Bianca said "I wouldn't even put my dog there"- being in Old Accra was like being on a different planet.
Upon returning to the hostel, we ate dinner and said goodbyes (Bianca will be staying in a place eleven hours away from me and we'll see about Per Odd) and I was about to write in my journal when a Swiss guy named Benny came in the dormitory. Benny, initiating his gap year with Ghana, is the replacement for Martina in the Wale Wale village. We took a walk and I told him things to watch out for in Ghana. Tangentially, I still can't get over the way that the German Swiss say "yaaaa" as an affirmative. I think that's really cool. Anyway, we conversed very easily - he is an avid traveler. Two weeks ago, he went on a ten day kayaking trip in the Finnish wilderness and last year, he volunteered in Mozambique. We made vague plans to travel together (he will be 13 hours away from Akwatia) so we'll see if those come to fruition.
I don't know if I will be able to write tomorrow, but I will have a post up by Saturday.
Cooking Ghanaian food
Red Red
Malian friends
Martina
Goats-Very common: runs with cars on the road
Pigs-Emergency Ghanaian food source
These photogenic kids asked for a picture
Urinating and defecating in public places is a problem in Ghana
Houses
More poverty-that wooden shack to the right is a house
Really, the poverty was so bad in Old Accra that it felt like we were on another planet
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