So I officially ended my Cross-Cultural Solutions program on July 23rd and have been in Tamale for the past 4 days. My goodbyes in Hohoe were difficult, and a little too rushed for my liking, but perhaps it was better to have it all happen quickly rather than dwelling on it. My last day at the school was awesome. I took a ton of photos with the kids and staff and despite all the hugging and "farewell for now"s it seemed like more of a celebration and a temporary goodbye than anything else. A couple of my girls cried, which broke my heart, but I reassured them I would be back to visit one day and that I would stay in touch through letters and photos in the meantime. And I meant it--despite all the challenges Ghana has handed me since I arrived here the kids at Gbi Special School made it all worth it. They made me fight to get better quickly when I was in the hospital and stopped me from booking a flight home early multiple times. They are the one thing I have never lost faith in while I have been here, and I would never fathom leaving such amazing relationships behind once I get back home. Just before I left the school I handed out lollipops to all the kids, which caused complete chaos. The processing company of those suckers definitely gets the award for most child-proof packaging--not a good thing considering I had 100 of those lollipops to open up. Anyway, it was a good time and I left feeling happy only having shed tears of joy.
I left for Tamale on a 3AM bus Saturday morning. My first leg of the journey was from Hohoe to Kumasi and took about 7 hours. It wasn't so bad because the bus was pretty empty and I was able to nap a little across some of the seats. The second half, from Kumasi to Tamale, was insanity. The bus was full, every seat taken and the aisles piled full of people's things including bulk packages of food. I had to bribe the driver $5GH just to make sure my luggage made it into the storage compartments underneath. And, of course, I ended up in a seat right between the two largest ladies on the bus. So I really had more of 1/2 a seat and was unable to move during the entire 8 hour bus ride up to Tamale. On the bright side I met two really friendly people who looked out for me--Valentine (a student from Rwanda who is studying Tourism, Hospitality, and Management in Accra) and Victoria (a business woman married to an army sergeant, also from Accra but originally from Tamale).
My first night in Tamale I stayed in a really sketchy place called Las Hotel. The rooms were decent, but pretty rundown, and the building looked like a warehouse inside with really ugly yellow-brown walls. To top it all off the nightclub on the ground-floor had re-opened since the last time the Bradt Guide was updated so there was music blaring and drunk people yelling outside all night long. I whipped out my earplugs for the first time since arriving in Ghana and managed to get a pretty good sleep. The only brownie points the place got was being located beneath the best Chinese Restaurant in town (so I had a really good veggie noodle dish for dinner) and having a receptionist who couldn't do math properly and accidentally forgot to add the VAT taxes to my hotel bill.
On Sunday I moved to The Tamale Institute of Cross Cultural Studies Guesthouse, which is located in a much better neighbourhood, has extremely clean rooms, friendly staff, is less expensive, and has a lovely compound with a courtyard and library full of books on Ghanaian culture and history. It is also right around the corner from Swad Fast Foods, a terrific restaurant with an extensive vegetarian section on the menu. I was in heaven. There are also a ton of international travelers who stay at the Guesthouse so I had no trouble finding people to hang out with, which was nice. On my first night I had dinner with a Dane, a Swede, and an Australian and quite enjoyed myself!
Monday was a busy day! I went to meet Abdul-Malik and his family in Tuunaayili, a suburb of Gumani. He has grown up so much since the last time we received a picture of him. No more baby fat and a lot taller than he used to be! He's still adorable though, and his shy mannerisms just make him that much more loveable. Our visit went extremely well and afterward I was taken to meet a women's cooperative that was established as part of a microfinance program that our monthly donations help to support. I will likely post more about Christian Children's Fund and their activities in another blog later today--I was happy to discover the organization is very legitimate and completely transparent. After my adventures I was feeling pretty weak and realized I had sunburned my scalp pretty badly (I had my hair plaited) and was likely suffering from heat stroke so I spent the rest of my day in bed.
Yesterday was pretty low key. I bummed around my room, wrote a really long journal entry, napped, and started my internship report. Last night I went out for dinner at Swad with two girls from Harvard who are here working on thesis papers. They are really nice and I had a lot of fun.
Today I am just going to be running errands and exploring Tamale a little more. It's raining so I'm not really looking forward to walking around outside but oh well! Tomorrow I'm off to Mole to see some elephants and on Saturday I head to Accra! I will likely post a little more later on, so stay tuned!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Immigration Disputes and Kente Cloth
Okay, I'm going to try and make this post brief but I'll pick up from where I left off. On Friday morning I went back out to the school to say a quick hello and to let everyone know I was okay. I was still exhausted however (antibiotics always kick my butt) so I spent the rest of the morning in bed. That afternoon I headed to Ho to have my visa renewed. As of that day it would expire and I would be considered an illegal immigrant in Ghana. I arrived at the immigration office around 2:30 and handed over all my identification to the immigration officers. I had only been in the office for 2 minutes when I was informed that I was being fined for overstaying my visa by two months. My jaw hit the floor. What the heck were they talking about?! They pointed out that I had been given a 60 day stamp on my passport but that the customs official at the airport had written a 12 over top of the 60 and circled it. That meant he had only approved me to stay in the country for 12 days. They had never seen anything like it before, especially with a CCS volunteer, but apparently it is legal to scribble over official documents in Ghana. They were going to fine me $80 GH for each month I had overstayed and $40 GH to have my visa extended. A whopping total of $200 GH that I didn't have to spend. I was livid. I have spent a small fortune on this trip, spent years saving to provide people with my help for free, and this was the way the country's officials said thank you. I quickly got on the phone with my program director, who was just as shocked as I was. Luckily he was friends with each of the immigrations officials and talked them down to a $100 GH charge. I am still pretty upset about the whole thing. Now CCS has to double check everyone's passports to make sure they have at least 30 days granted to be in country. The funniest part is I have been through multiple immigration checkpoints where I needed to present my passport and nobody ever said anything about it. I'm lucky--I could have been arrested on the spot for traveling illegally within the country. Anyway, I'm now allowed to be here until August 16th, although I will be leaving on August 2nd and not a day later if I can help it.
My weekend was pretty dull. I caught up on errands, did laundry, and worked on internship stuff. A new group of volunteers arrived, 17 in total. I was much better prepared for this group than the last. I have listened to their questions and concerns patiently and try my best to empathize with the emotions they are experiencing. I have three new volunteers with me at the Gbi Special School. I wish I could say it is going well, but they are all overwhelmed. I don't think they should have been sent out to the school at this point. School ends next Friday and the teachers are "busy" writing progress reports for parents so classes have been suspended until next term. As such, the school environment has deteriorated back into chaos. My classroom is the only one running lessons because I'm teaching. The new volunteers don't even know where to begin. I've been giving them suggestions and one of the girls is going to join me in my class where things are more tame and will take over once I leave. I'm also hoping that this group will be able to finish up a couple of projects that I started working on but didn't have time to complete thanks to my hospital vacation.
For the rest of the week my placement will be pretty low key. Tomorrow I will be teaching as usual and having a meeting with one of the staff who I am trying to assist with his vocational training program. On Thursday I'm going to get the kids to paint these clay pinch pot bowls I had them make in creative art two weeks ago. On Friday I am just going to play games with the kids, take pictures, hand out treats, and say goodbyes. I can't believe I only have three more days here. It is so surreal.
Yesterday I started kente cloth weaving lessons with a group of local weavers. Weaving on a real loom is much more complex than the frame I got used to weaving on in high school. Yesterday I just got used to the feel of the foot pedals, pulls, and shuttles while working out a simple checker pattern. I finished about 3/4 of a yard in 3 hours. Today I got started on learning kente designs. These are pretty difficult because you have to grab specific threads with your fingers while shooting the shuttle through and switching pedals. My short fingers and small hands don't help the process much. Wilson, my teacher, says I'm a quick learner though and apparently thinks I am a "natural kente master". I hope I don't disappoint. I have had neighbourhood kids watching me too--apparently they have never seen a white person weave OR a woman weave. It reminded me of when I originally went to request a quote for lessons and one weaver asked "Is it for a black man or a white man?" When I said "No, it's for me" he started laughing. When he realized I was serious his eyes just got really big and he looked as if he might pass out. I guess I am shaking things up in Hohoe.
Well, that's about it for excitement so far. My next three days will be super busy so I probably won't post again until after I reach Tamale. Wish me luck!
My weekend was pretty dull. I caught up on errands, did laundry, and worked on internship stuff. A new group of volunteers arrived, 17 in total. I was much better prepared for this group than the last. I have listened to their questions and concerns patiently and try my best to empathize with the emotions they are experiencing. I have three new volunteers with me at the Gbi Special School. I wish I could say it is going well, but they are all overwhelmed. I don't think they should have been sent out to the school at this point. School ends next Friday and the teachers are "busy" writing progress reports for parents so classes have been suspended until next term. As such, the school environment has deteriorated back into chaos. My classroom is the only one running lessons because I'm teaching. The new volunteers don't even know where to begin. I've been giving them suggestions and one of the girls is going to join me in my class where things are more tame and will take over once I leave. I'm also hoping that this group will be able to finish up a couple of projects that I started working on but didn't have time to complete thanks to my hospital vacation.
For the rest of the week my placement will be pretty low key. Tomorrow I will be teaching as usual and having a meeting with one of the staff who I am trying to assist with his vocational training program. On Thursday I'm going to get the kids to paint these clay pinch pot bowls I had them make in creative art two weeks ago. On Friday I am just going to play games with the kids, take pictures, hand out treats, and say goodbyes. I can't believe I only have three more days here. It is so surreal.
Yesterday I started kente cloth weaving lessons with a group of local weavers. Weaving on a real loom is much more complex than the frame I got used to weaving on in high school. Yesterday I just got used to the feel of the foot pedals, pulls, and shuttles while working out a simple checker pattern. I finished about 3/4 of a yard in 3 hours. Today I got started on learning kente designs. These are pretty difficult because you have to grab specific threads with your fingers while shooting the shuttle through and switching pedals. My short fingers and small hands don't help the process much. Wilson, my teacher, says I'm a quick learner though and apparently thinks I am a "natural kente master". I hope I don't disappoint. I have had neighbourhood kids watching me too--apparently they have never seen a white person weave OR a woman weave. It reminded me of when I originally went to request a quote for lessons and one weaver asked "Is it for a black man or a white man?" When I said "No, it's for me" he started laughing. When he realized I was serious his eyes just got really big and he looked as if he might pass out. I guess I am shaking things up in Hohoe.
Well, that's about it for excitement so far. My next three days will be super busy so I probably won't post again until after I reach Tamale. Wish me luck!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Be careful what you wish for...
As I had hoped, my trip to Accra was eventful, relaxing at times, and gave me plenty of quiet time to think and regain some of the energy I would need to face another influx of volunteers at the CCS homebase. What I didn't bank on was spending almost an entire week in Accra. Let me explain.
I will begin on Friday morning. I was up at 4:00 AM with Catherine to be driven to the airport in Accra where she would depart for home. George came with us to accompany me to New Horizons School later in the day. Our trip to Accra was fairly smooth despite being pulled over at roadblocks several times (once we were pulled over by a cop with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder simply so he could get my name and tell me how beautiful I was--as flattering as this may sound it was not what I wanted to hear after being woken up at 5:00 in the morning, especially considering he scared the crap out of our driver over nothing). We dropped Catherine at the airport and said our goodbyes. I didn't bawl my eyes out, but I did cry afterward. I wasn't quite sure what to do without my trusty support system beside me anymore.
George and I went and got breakfast at this ridiculously overpriced restaurant after discovering that Vasili's Bakery (this place with great muffins and fresh filtered coffee according to the Bradt Guide) had closed a year earlier. Then I checked in at my hotel and we headed to New Horizons. We met with the secretary, Joycelyn, and were asked to wait in her office until the director, Salome Francois, arrived. After a while I was escorted to her office. She didn't actually arrive until around 12:30, so I sat and watched while the students did wood-working and then practiced a dance number to a fairly catchy Ghanaian song. When she finally called me into her office the first words out of her mouth were "Who are you and why have you come here?" This was another "uh-oh" moment for me. She said that she was really confused as to why I had come to the school, especially since she had no idea who I was or who Cross-Cultural Solutions was. It turns out Joycelyn failed to tell my program director about the proper procedure for requesting a school visit and thought that she had the authority to allow us to enter the property. Miss Francois was not impressed--normally people have to send a letter directly to her explaining their intentions at the school and who they are (which I completely respect considering the vulnerable nature of the individuals that her facility serves). Of course Joycelyn had reassured CCS that our frequent phone communications with her would be enough to be given a tour of the school, so we didn't have a letter and all I could do was apologize profusely and try my best to explain why I was so interested in seeing the school. Miss Francois also seemed a little put off by the fact that I had chosen the CCS program over a volunteer placement at her school and was under the impression that I had come to Ghana to grant money to special needs schools and had chosen a government-funded school over her private school. Unfortunately Miss Francois' husband was ill that day and she needed to accompany him to a clinic to receive an injection of some sort. She said I was welcome to wait until she returned so we could talk further. I waited another 2 hours. Our second meeting went a little better than the first and I was able to clarify why I was in the country, why I had chosen CCS, what my interest in New Horizons School was, and that in the future my education might justify returning to Ghana to perform research at schools like New Horizon. When she realized how much I cared about the students she really warmed to me and she apologized for the mix-up that Joycelyn and CCS had put me in the middle of. She told me about her struggles establishing the school and gave me information on a parents' advocacy group she founded (PACID). I promised to write her an email to better introduce myself and my learning objectives in Ghana with hopes that I could visit the school within the following two weeks.
After the meeting I returned to the hotel, grabbed some food at the restaurant and chatted with a teacher from Ohio who was running away from his career for a year. I wandered around Osu for a bit and bought a bunch of baked goods from Frankie's along with some pretty ripe oranges from a woman at the side of the road (for anyone who has eaten a Ghanaian orange you will also appreciate how rare it is to find a yellow orange). I then proceeded to pig out in front of the T.V. while watching re-runs of American sitcoms. It was heaven.
My friends arrived in Accra late Friday night. On Saturday morning we checked out Koala Supermarket (my mouth was watering at the assortment of food and brands they had) and then headed to a huge African craft market. I must say I now pride myself on my haggling abilities and my knowledge of what things SHOULD cost here. The merchants in the market had really racked up prices and were surprised when I said things like "I have a friend back in Hohoe who could make me the same thing for half that price". I also find that throwing "Get real buddy" into the negotiation really makes the quoted price drop. I managed to buy a good-sized drum with a carrying case for $45GH after originally being asked to pay $80GH (partially thanks to a pricing war between two neighbouring merchants). I was thrilled! That afternoon we went to the Accra Mall and saw Toy Story 3. It was surreal, but very enjoyable. For dinner we headed out to an Indian restaurant and had some top-notch curry dishes with naan. Soooo good! I was exhausted afterward so I opted out of clubbing and headed back to the hotel with Kelly where I passed out pretty early.
Things started to go downhill at 12:30 AM when I woke up and just made it to the washroom in time to avoid being sick all over the hotel room floor. I was up all night and by 6:00 AM I had nothing left in me. I woke Kelly up and told her I needed to go to a hospital--the pain I was experiencing told me this was a bit more serious than food poisoning. While I tried to stop my head from spinning Kelly got on the phone with contacts in Accra and the U.S. Embassy. Everyone recommended the Trust House Hospital, which was conveniently located just down the road from our hotel. I wasn't ready to leave until 9:00AM because I was moving so slow and after the two minute walk to the hospital I felt like I was going to pass out. I layed down in the waiting room while Kelly (bless her heart) looked after my paperwork, paid fees, and demanded that I see a doctor ASAP. They had me in a consultation room in 15 minutes. I was really dizzy and weak, so the doctor got me in a wheelchair and sent me for lab testing right away. While we were waiting for the initial results (they essentially screen for malaria and that's it at first) my limbs went numb. When my muscles contracted and I found I was paralyzed and my face was going numb too I started to freak out. Kelly rushed me back to the doctor. His first exclamation of "Oh shit" didn't do much to reassure me--I had never experienced paralysis before and didn't know how serious it was. They took me into a side room, lifted me onto a table and hooked me up to an IV. After the saline had been running for a few minutes my muscles finally relaxed and the feeling started to come back. I can't even begin to explain how relieved I was. The doctor took me back to his office and told me the lab tests were negative for malaria but my white blood cell count was through the roof, indicating a bad infection. They were going to admit me to the hospital immediately.
Before I describe the hospital I just need to say how lucky I was to have Kelly there to help me. She somehow managed to keep her cool despite the fact that she had never been in a hospital before and was now trying to navigate me through a foreign medical system. She made sure I received the best care possible and covered all my hospital expenses up front because I was in no shape to run out to the bank. She was a life-saver, perhaps literally.
The hospital itself was really nice. The staff were extremely kind and made sure everything I needed was looked after. They even came around to greet every single patient at the beginning of their shifts. I had a bed with clean sheets behind a curtained-off area in a room with three other people. The room had a T.V. with satellite and was cleaned at least twice a day. We had our own washroom with a shower that had hot water and toilet paper was provided free of charge. We had good meals brought to us three times a day and the kitchen staff made me special meals because they knew I had food allergies. It was honestly nicer than any hospital I have ever been in back home, which was lucky for me because I was there for five days. I was continually being tested for different illnesses and infections and on day 2 they decided to perform a 3-day culture on one of my samples.
I only had two books with me and I finished reading them on the second day. The satellite offered one decent channel with American shows but had a tendency to re-run the same episodes over and over. This left me with a lot of time to think. First of all I freaked out because I had so much scheduled that week including weaving lessons and in-service workshops with the teachers at my placement. Then I started missing home. Then I started missing social interaction in general. And this led me to mull over a lot of the things I have experienced since arriving in Ghana. I missed the kids at my school like crazy and hated that I was losing my second last week with them. However, I also realized how exhausted Ghanaian social norms have made me. There was one morning at the hospital when I felt particularly hopeless and started to cry when a visiting CCS staff member asked me how I was. She immediately told me to stop crying because expressing emotion like that is socially unacceptable here. She then opened up my curtain and the next thing I knew I had the three other patients and their families lecturing me on how I shouldn't cry because I needed to be strong for my family and God would look after me. In an attempt to make me feel better the staff member then went on a tangent about how God decides when it's our time to go and maybe it was my time to go but I shouldn't be sad because it was what he wanted and hopefully he would decide to heal me so I could see my family again. Let's just say this made the situation harder to deal with. I miss the way people approach problems like this back home.
I was released from the hospital on Thursday afternoon. I had a bacterial infection in my digestive tract and was given antibiotics to continue taking after I left. I just finished them all today and I am feeling much better. I will post more tomorrow night. My computer time is up! Hope everyone back home is doing well!
I will begin on Friday morning. I was up at 4:00 AM with Catherine to be driven to the airport in Accra where she would depart for home. George came with us to accompany me to New Horizons School later in the day. Our trip to Accra was fairly smooth despite being pulled over at roadblocks several times (once we were pulled over by a cop with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder simply so he could get my name and tell me how beautiful I was--as flattering as this may sound it was not what I wanted to hear after being woken up at 5:00 in the morning, especially considering he scared the crap out of our driver over nothing). We dropped Catherine at the airport and said our goodbyes. I didn't bawl my eyes out, but I did cry afterward. I wasn't quite sure what to do without my trusty support system beside me anymore.
George and I went and got breakfast at this ridiculously overpriced restaurant after discovering that Vasili's Bakery (this place with great muffins and fresh filtered coffee according to the Bradt Guide) had closed a year earlier. Then I checked in at my hotel and we headed to New Horizons. We met with the secretary, Joycelyn, and were asked to wait in her office until the director, Salome Francois, arrived. After a while I was escorted to her office. She didn't actually arrive until around 12:30, so I sat and watched while the students did wood-working and then practiced a dance number to a fairly catchy Ghanaian song. When she finally called me into her office the first words out of her mouth were "Who are you and why have you come here?" This was another "uh-oh" moment for me. She said that she was really confused as to why I had come to the school, especially since she had no idea who I was or who Cross-Cultural Solutions was. It turns out Joycelyn failed to tell my program director about the proper procedure for requesting a school visit and thought that she had the authority to allow us to enter the property. Miss Francois was not impressed--normally people have to send a letter directly to her explaining their intentions at the school and who they are (which I completely respect considering the vulnerable nature of the individuals that her facility serves). Of course Joycelyn had reassured CCS that our frequent phone communications with her would be enough to be given a tour of the school, so we didn't have a letter and all I could do was apologize profusely and try my best to explain why I was so interested in seeing the school. Miss Francois also seemed a little put off by the fact that I had chosen the CCS program over a volunteer placement at her school and was under the impression that I had come to Ghana to grant money to special needs schools and had chosen a government-funded school over her private school. Unfortunately Miss Francois' husband was ill that day and she needed to accompany him to a clinic to receive an injection of some sort. She said I was welcome to wait until she returned so we could talk further. I waited another 2 hours. Our second meeting went a little better than the first and I was able to clarify why I was in the country, why I had chosen CCS, what my interest in New Horizons School was, and that in the future my education might justify returning to Ghana to perform research at schools like New Horizon. When she realized how much I cared about the students she really warmed to me and she apologized for the mix-up that Joycelyn and CCS had put me in the middle of. She told me about her struggles establishing the school and gave me information on a parents' advocacy group she founded (PACID). I promised to write her an email to better introduce myself and my learning objectives in Ghana with hopes that I could visit the school within the following two weeks.
After the meeting I returned to the hotel, grabbed some food at the restaurant and chatted with a teacher from Ohio who was running away from his career for a year. I wandered around Osu for a bit and bought a bunch of baked goods from Frankie's along with some pretty ripe oranges from a woman at the side of the road (for anyone who has eaten a Ghanaian orange you will also appreciate how rare it is to find a yellow orange). I then proceeded to pig out in front of the T.V. while watching re-runs of American sitcoms. It was heaven.
My friends arrived in Accra late Friday night. On Saturday morning we checked out Koala Supermarket (my mouth was watering at the assortment of food and brands they had) and then headed to a huge African craft market. I must say I now pride myself on my haggling abilities and my knowledge of what things SHOULD cost here. The merchants in the market had really racked up prices and were surprised when I said things like "I have a friend back in Hohoe who could make me the same thing for half that price". I also find that throwing "Get real buddy" into the negotiation really makes the quoted price drop. I managed to buy a good-sized drum with a carrying case for $45GH after originally being asked to pay $80GH (partially thanks to a pricing war between two neighbouring merchants). I was thrilled! That afternoon we went to the Accra Mall and saw Toy Story 3. It was surreal, but very enjoyable. For dinner we headed out to an Indian restaurant and had some top-notch curry dishes with naan. Soooo good! I was exhausted afterward so I opted out of clubbing and headed back to the hotel with Kelly where I passed out pretty early.
Things started to go downhill at 12:30 AM when I woke up and just made it to the washroom in time to avoid being sick all over the hotel room floor. I was up all night and by 6:00 AM I had nothing left in me. I woke Kelly up and told her I needed to go to a hospital--the pain I was experiencing told me this was a bit more serious than food poisoning. While I tried to stop my head from spinning Kelly got on the phone with contacts in Accra and the U.S. Embassy. Everyone recommended the Trust House Hospital, which was conveniently located just down the road from our hotel. I wasn't ready to leave until 9:00AM because I was moving so slow and after the two minute walk to the hospital I felt like I was going to pass out. I layed down in the waiting room while Kelly (bless her heart) looked after my paperwork, paid fees, and demanded that I see a doctor ASAP. They had me in a consultation room in 15 minutes. I was really dizzy and weak, so the doctor got me in a wheelchair and sent me for lab testing right away. While we were waiting for the initial results (they essentially screen for malaria and that's it at first) my limbs went numb. When my muscles contracted and I found I was paralyzed and my face was going numb too I started to freak out. Kelly rushed me back to the doctor. His first exclamation of "Oh shit" didn't do much to reassure me--I had never experienced paralysis before and didn't know how serious it was. They took me into a side room, lifted me onto a table and hooked me up to an IV. After the saline had been running for a few minutes my muscles finally relaxed and the feeling started to come back. I can't even begin to explain how relieved I was. The doctor took me back to his office and told me the lab tests were negative for malaria but my white blood cell count was through the roof, indicating a bad infection. They were going to admit me to the hospital immediately.
Before I describe the hospital I just need to say how lucky I was to have Kelly there to help me. She somehow managed to keep her cool despite the fact that she had never been in a hospital before and was now trying to navigate me through a foreign medical system. She made sure I received the best care possible and covered all my hospital expenses up front because I was in no shape to run out to the bank. She was a life-saver, perhaps literally.
The hospital itself was really nice. The staff were extremely kind and made sure everything I needed was looked after. They even came around to greet every single patient at the beginning of their shifts. I had a bed with clean sheets behind a curtained-off area in a room with three other people. The room had a T.V. with satellite and was cleaned at least twice a day. We had our own washroom with a shower that had hot water and toilet paper was provided free of charge. We had good meals brought to us three times a day and the kitchen staff made me special meals because they knew I had food allergies. It was honestly nicer than any hospital I have ever been in back home, which was lucky for me because I was there for five days. I was continually being tested for different illnesses and infections and on day 2 they decided to perform a 3-day culture on one of my samples.
I only had two books with me and I finished reading them on the second day. The satellite offered one decent channel with American shows but had a tendency to re-run the same episodes over and over. This left me with a lot of time to think. First of all I freaked out because I had so much scheduled that week including weaving lessons and in-service workshops with the teachers at my placement. Then I started missing home. Then I started missing social interaction in general. And this led me to mull over a lot of the things I have experienced since arriving in Ghana. I missed the kids at my school like crazy and hated that I was losing my second last week with them. However, I also realized how exhausted Ghanaian social norms have made me. There was one morning at the hospital when I felt particularly hopeless and started to cry when a visiting CCS staff member asked me how I was. She immediately told me to stop crying because expressing emotion like that is socially unacceptable here. She then opened up my curtain and the next thing I knew I had the three other patients and their families lecturing me on how I shouldn't cry because I needed to be strong for my family and God would look after me. In an attempt to make me feel better the staff member then went on a tangent about how God decides when it's our time to go and maybe it was my time to go but I shouldn't be sad because it was what he wanted and hopefully he would decide to heal me so I could see my family again. Let's just say this made the situation harder to deal with. I miss the way people approach problems like this back home.
I was released from the hospital on Thursday afternoon. I had a bacterial infection in my digestive tract and was given antibiotics to continue taking after I left. I just finished them all today and I am feeling much better. I will post more tomorrow night. My computer time is up! Hope everyone back home is doing well!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Back on Track
It's been a while since my last post and I know some of you have been anxious to hear from me so I apologize. The good news is things are going much better for me now. The bad news is I only have two weeks left in Hohoe before I leave for Tamale. I'm determined to make the most out of the time I have left though, so here is a brief update on the things I've been doing lately!
Things out at the Gbi Special School seem to have radically improved since my last post. Perhaps the situation out there is still far from ideal, but I am starting to see the small changes that my presence at the school has made. Upon returning to the school (after the episode I mentioned in my last post) I was surprised to take note of the fact that the students weren't fighting nearly as much as they used to. As soon as I said "au" (no) they stopped. Instead of hanging off me, hugging all the time, or touching inappropriately many of them now respect my personal space and offer their hands to shake first. My teacher has posted the schedule and classroom rules on the wall and is making a serious effort to stay on task and encourage good behaviour. My students now raise their hands before they speak, keep their hands to themselves, and know to work on assignments independently rather than cheating off each other. They also cover more than one subject in a morning because they are finally using the actual class timetable. The teachers out at the school all smile and greet me now, rather than failing to acknowledge my existence. I feel like a part of the school, and that means the world to me.
I had an opportunity to interview the headmaster on Tuesday and he ended up giving me a lot of valuable knowledge about the special needs school system operates (or attempts to operate) here. I offered to continue working with the school once I go back home, which he was thrilled about. He has asked me to assist them in developing a website for the school so that they can raise awareness about their programs and keep previous volunteers and donors updated about how the school is doing. I'm also going to continue looking for grants for some of their staff members and the vocational training program they run for senior students.
This week my classroom teacher, Miss Priscilla, has been ill with malaria so I had the opportunity to design multiple lesson plans. The most exciting was probably creative art--I brought a big brick of clay to the school and taught my students how to make pinch pot bowls. Everyone and everything got so messy but the students loved it and made beautiful bowls! Unfortunately they carried them outside to dry before I could stop them and a younger student smooshed three of them. I plan to replace the wrecked ones with some of my own that I'll make later tonight. Next week I am going to have them all decorate their bowls with painted designs. I'm really happy this project has gone over so well!
Aside from doing a TON of internship assignments I have been taking time to re-embrace the Hohoe community after my week of bitterness and homesickness. Last weekend I went with a group of volunteers to conquer the 2 hour hike to the upper Wli Waterfalls. It was a 45-minute hike out to the trail and then a 2-hour haul up the side of a steep mountain (parts of the path had literally crumbled down the side so we would have to jump or shimmy along small ledges in some places). This climb ended up being even harder than Mount Afadjato but luckily I was in high spirits and had a lot of energy to use up. The upper falls were gorgeous. They were literally situated in a tiny oasis with mango trees, flowering plants, and leafy bushes. There were no bats, which meant no need to fear being pooped on from above like at the lower falls. The only downside was the temperature--it was incredibly windy and cold and the spray from the falls misted over and drenched us within minutes of getting there. While we had all been dreaming of a refreshing swim during the climb up, the goosebumps on my arms had me running back to the trail to start the climb down and warm up again!
The climb back down was really difficult and I fell three times cutting open both my hands and scraping my shin. I was thankful those were my only injuries however (on the steepest parts I had to keep my imagine from running wild with all the ways I could tumble down a forested mountain side). I did end up swimming in the lower falls with one other volunteer and it was as refreshing as I had imagined the upper falls might be (I was thankful for this rinse-off again after arriving back to homebase to discover the water was off and listening to my grimy, sweaty counterparts who had decided not to swim curse the idea of a bucket shower).
On Monday afternoon I went to visit the local witch doctor who practices multiple forms of voodoo. This tiny little man looked pretty convincing as he wore only a piece of cloth wrapped around his waist and had large veins protruding from either temple (which I assumed were a result of all the deep meditation and agitated ceremonies he performed). He claimed he could heal anything from HIV/AIDS to the guilt of incest. If he couldn't heal you it was because the voodoo powers had fated you to die. Despite making some outrageous claims, I decided I would give this guy a shot at revealing my future. We went into a small room (myself, the witch doctor, and George-a CCS staff member) and sat on a mat. The mat had a pile of seemingly random objects sitting on it including bottle caps, shells, stones, motor parts and chicken bones. The witch doctor explained that each item represented a particular feeling or aspect of life and that the voodoo powers would tell him which objects were going to play a part in my life. The cost of the prediction was $5 Ghana cedi (about $3.50 Canadian). I had to take my folded bill and place it near my mouth. I then thought of something I wanted and had to mouth it silently into the bill (I asked for good health). I then had to spit onto the bill, touch it to my heart, my forehead, and place it on the mat. The witch doctor took three chains with shells attached and began dropping them over the bill as he spoke some sort of incantation in Ewe. He then threw the bill aside and selected some of the objects from the pile. He would swing each of the chains back and forth, one at a time, and lay them out in straight rows. The way the shells on each chain fell (facing up or down) indicated which items should remain and which items were insignificant. My first item was a smooth, flat, black-brown stone. He told me this stone represented sickness, the exact opposite of what I had wished for. He said I would become very sick in the future and then continued with the reading. The next item was a small white stone. He told me I would become sick because of my job. I would try very hard to be successful but I would keep on failing and my body would suffer. He continued. Next he told me that the only way for me to prevent these things from happening was to look after my mother, my father, and my father's property. He said I needed to avoid being neglectful and if I did this I would find success in my career. The voodoo powers ordered me to buy my father a long piece of nice cloth (something wealthy men in Ghana wear as a symbol of success and tribal status) and to wrap it around him. If I did this they would change my fate. The witch doctor then asked me if my father was still alive, leaving me more than skeptical about his so called "power". Although a little silly in some ways, it was a really cool experience. We also got to see a little girl that he was treating with herbal medicine for her seizures. She didn't look like she was in very good shape--she could not stand on her own and her broken sobs made it clear that she did not even have enough energy to cry properly. I felt horrible, but there was nothing I could do for her. (In some ways I think herbal medicine and traditional practices are important, but after witnessing some of the voodoo practices of Ghana I can only hope that people will open up to accepting some of the breakthroughs that have been made in modern medicine--it could be the difference between life and death for many people. Especially in the case of HIV/AIDS patients. Here HIV is called a "ghost virus", meaning it is believed that the virus is a result of being plagued by evil spirits. Locals suffering from HIV will spend mass amounts of money paying the witch doctor to figure out which evil spirits are plaguing them and then to perform ceremonies to cast off these spirits. In the developed world we understand that these ceremonies are futile because HIV is an autoimmune virus and needs medical treatment in order to prolong life. Hopefully the misconceptions about this virus can be cleared up in Ghana soon so more people can seek out effective treatments.)
The next week of my life looks to be particularly exciting. I have convinced a group of kente weavers to give me lessons in weaving each afternoon next week. For the first time in my life I will be using a real loom rather than a homemade frame with nails in it! Tomorrow I leave for Accra at 3AM with my friend Catherine. Catherine has been here with me since the beginning (roommates for 8 weeks now--how time flies) and she leaves tomorrow to go home. I am dropping her at the Kotoka Airport at 8AM where I will have to say goodbye to someone who has literally become my other half here. We've essentially kept each other sane through all of the cultural, social, and emotional challenges we have faced since arriving. I will miss her a lot! On the bright side, later that morning I have an incredible opportunity. I have been invited to tour the New Horizons Special School in Accra and to sit down and chat with the founder, who is now in her eighties! The school was established in the 1970s (a very radical institution for West Africa at the time) and has since grown to be an internationally acclaimed facility for its great programs and innovative approach to teaching people living with cognitive disorders. I am so excited!!!
I will be spending the entire weekend in Accra doing touristy things and eating my heart out in great restaurants. I promise to update again next week! Miss you all!
Things out at the Gbi Special School seem to have radically improved since my last post. Perhaps the situation out there is still far from ideal, but I am starting to see the small changes that my presence at the school has made. Upon returning to the school (after the episode I mentioned in my last post) I was surprised to take note of the fact that the students weren't fighting nearly as much as they used to. As soon as I said "au" (no) they stopped. Instead of hanging off me, hugging all the time, or touching inappropriately many of them now respect my personal space and offer their hands to shake first. My teacher has posted the schedule and classroom rules on the wall and is making a serious effort to stay on task and encourage good behaviour. My students now raise their hands before they speak, keep their hands to themselves, and know to work on assignments independently rather than cheating off each other. They also cover more than one subject in a morning because they are finally using the actual class timetable. The teachers out at the school all smile and greet me now, rather than failing to acknowledge my existence. I feel like a part of the school, and that means the world to me.
I had an opportunity to interview the headmaster on Tuesday and he ended up giving me a lot of valuable knowledge about the special needs school system operates (or attempts to operate) here. I offered to continue working with the school once I go back home, which he was thrilled about. He has asked me to assist them in developing a website for the school so that they can raise awareness about their programs and keep previous volunteers and donors updated about how the school is doing. I'm also going to continue looking for grants for some of their staff members and the vocational training program they run for senior students.
This week my classroom teacher, Miss Priscilla, has been ill with malaria so I had the opportunity to design multiple lesson plans. The most exciting was probably creative art--I brought a big brick of clay to the school and taught my students how to make pinch pot bowls. Everyone and everything got so messy but the students loved it and made beautiful bowls! Unfortunately they carried them outside to dry before I could stop them and a younger student smooshed three of them. I plan to replace the wrecked ones with some of my own that I'll make later tonight. Next week I am going to have them all decorate their bowls with painted designs. I'm really happy this project has gone over so well!
Aside from doing a TON of internship assignments I have been taking time to re-embrace the Hohoe community after my week of bitterness and homesickness. Last weekend I went with a group of volunteers to conquer the 2 hour hike to the upper Wli Waterfalls. It was a 45-minute hike out to the trail and then a 2-hour haul up the side of a steep mountain (parts of the path had literally crumbled down the side so we would have to jump or shimmy along small ledges in some places). This climb ended up being even harder than Mount Afadjato but luckily I was in high spirits and had a lot of energy to use up. The upper falls were gorgeous. They were literally situated in a tiny oasis with mango trees, flowering plants, and leafy bushes. There were no bats, which meant no need to fear being pooped on from above like at the lower falls. The only downside was the temperature--it was incredibly windy and cold and the spray from the falls misted over and drenched us within minutes of getting there. While we had all been dreaming of a refreshing swim during the climb up, the goosebumps on my arms had me running back to the trail to start the climb down and warm up again!
The climb back down was really difficult and I fell three times cutting open both my hands and scraping my shin. I was thankful those were my only injuries however (on the steepest parts I had to keep my imagine from running wild with all the ways I could tumble down a forested mountain side). I did end up swimming in the lower falls with one other volunteer and it was as refreshing as I had imagined the upper falls might be (I was thankful for this rinse-off again after arriving back to homebase to discover the water was off and listening to my grimy, sweaty counterparts who had decided not to swim curse the idea of a bucket shower).
On Monday afternoon I went to visit the local witch doctor who practices multiple forms of voodoo. This tiny little man looked pretty convincing as he wore only a piece of cloth wrapped around his waist and had large veins protruding from either temple (which I assumed were a result of all the deep meditation and agitated ceremonies he performed). He claimed he could heal anything from HIV/AIDS to the guilt of incest. If he couldn't heal you it was because the voodoo powers had fated you to die. Despite making some outrageous claims, I decided I would give this guy a shot at revealing my future. We went into a small room (myself, the witch doctor, and George-a CCS staff member) and sat on a mat. The mat had a pile of seemingly random objects sitting on it including bottle caps, shells, stones, motor parts and chicken bones. The witch doctor explained that each item represented a particular feeling or aspect of life and that the voodoo powers would tell him which objects were going to play a part in my life. The cost of the prediction was $5 Ghana cedi (about $3.50 Canadian). I had to take my folded bill and place it near my mouth. I then thought of something I wanted and had to mouth it silently into the bill (I asked for good health). I then had to spit onto the bill, touch it to my heart, my forehead, and place it on the mat. The witch doctor took three chains with shells attached and began dropping them over the bill as he spoke some sort of incantation in Ewe. He then threw the bill aside and selected some of the objects from the pile. He would swing each of the chains back and forth, one at a time, and lay them out in straight rows. The way the shells on each chain fell (facing up or down) indicated which items should remain and which items were insignificant. My first item was a smooth, flat, black-brown stone. He told me this stone represented sickness, the exact opposite of what I had wished for. He said I would become very sick in the future and then continued with the reading. The next item was a small white stone. He told me I would become sick because of my job. I would try very hard to be successful but I would keep on failing and my body would suffer. He continued. Next he told me that the only way for me to prevent these things from happening was to look after my mother, my father, and my father's property. He said I needed to avoid being neglectful and if I did this I would find success in my career. The voodoo powers ordered me to buy my father a long piece of nice cloth (something wealthy men in Ghana wear as a symbol of success and tribal status) and to wrap it around him. If I did this they would change my fate. The witch doctor then asked me if my father was still alive, leaving me more than skeptical about his so called "power". Although a little silly in some ways, it was a really cool experience. We also got to see a little girl that he was treating with herbal medicine for her seizures. She didn't look like she was in very good shape--she could not stand on her own and her broken sobs made it clear that she did not even have enough energy to cry properly. I felt horrible, but there was nothing I could do for her. (In some ways I think herbal medicine and traditional practices are important, but after witnessing some of the voodoo practices of Ghana I can only hope that people will open up to accepting some of the breakthroughs that have been made in modern medicine--it could be the difference between life and death for many people. Especially in the case of HIV/AIDS patients. Here HIV is called a "ghost virus", meaning it is believed that the virus is a result of being plagued by evil spirits. Locals suffering from HIV will spend mass amounts of money paying the witch doctor to figure out which evil spirits are plaguing them and then to perform ceremonies to cast off these spirits. In the developed world we understand that these ceremonies are futile because HIV is an autoimmune virus and needs medical treatment in order to prolong life. Hopefully the misconceptions about this virus can be cleared up in Ghana soon so more people can seek out effective treatments.)
The next week of my life looks to be particularly exciting. I have convinced a group of kente weavers to give me lessons in weaving each afternoon next week. For the first time in my life I will be using a real loom rather than a homemade frame with nails in it! Tomorrow I leave for Accra at 3AM with my friend Catherine. Catherine has been here with me since the beginning (roommates for 8 weeks now--how time flies) and she leaves tomorrow to go home. I am dropping her at the Kotoka Airport at 8AM where I will have to say goodbye to someone who has literally become my other half here. We've essentially kept each other sane through all of the cultural, social, and emotional challenges we have faced since arriving. I will miss her a lot! On the bright side, later that morning I have an incredible opportunity. I have been invited to tour the New Horizons Special School in Accra and to sit down and chat with the founder, who is now in her eighties! The school was established in the 1970s (a very radical institution for West Africa at the time) and has since grown to be an internationally acclaimed facility for its great programs and innovative approach to teaching people living with cognitive disorders. I am so excited!!!
I will be spending the entire weekend in Accra doing touristy things and eating my heart out in great restaurants. I promise to update again next week! Miss you all!
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