Entrepreneurship Olympics

At 5:45, just after the sun had broke, Ziblim (the T-Poly driver) arrived to “pick me” at Jisonayilli. We headed to T-Poly to pick up three members of the Entrepreneurship Club and load the truck with supplies for the Entrepreneurship Olympics I had organized for the students in Bolgatanga. The night before had been a late one as my best friend here, Kristine, had celebrated her last night in Tamale-she was heading back to Denmark, having completed her internship for her Masters in African Studies. I snoozed for most of the two hour drive, awaking every half hour or so to a cluster of mud huts or a small bustling village full of porters walking through the streets with various items on their heads and livestock shuffling through the traffic.
We made impeccable timing and arrived in Bolga within 2 hours; everything was going so well it was almost scary. We picked up some sacks of water and then made our way to the B-Poly campus, which is about 25 minutes out of town. The 40 students competing in the E-Olympics had been informed that a bus would be waiting for them at the old campus (which has now been turned into a Gov’t office) in town to pick them up and take them out to the new campus where we’d been given a large classroom to set-up our event. When we were about halfway to the new campus I called the professor from B-Poly that I’d been coordinating with to confirm that everything was going according to plans with the bus. As soon as he picked up he said “Shawna, we have a HUGE problem!”. My stomach dropped, I knew it was too good to be true-everything had been going too smoothly. The bus wasn’t working and Dr.Batse suggested that we should turn our truck around and come to the old campus to meet with him and try to sort things out. It turned out that the B-Poly bus we’d rented hadn’t been used in a long time, so no one had discovered that it didn’t have a battery. They had gone to start the bus to go get fuel and realized it wasn’t working. As Dr. Batse described it-we were having “one hell of an African time”, and he made no attempt to water the situation down-“Shawna, this is how it is in Africa. We have 3 students waiting here-the rest are late, waiting somewhere else, or decided to attend the funeral today. The bus hasn’t been used in ages and no one came early to fill it up with fuel.” We definitely had a problem- some students were hanging around the old campus waiting for the bus, others had indicated they would be waiting along the roadside for pick-up, and some had decided to meet the group at the new campus with their own means of transportation. So now it was 20 minutes past the designated departure time and I had students sprawled out from the old campus to the new one, waiting for the bus and waiting for our arrival. There was definitely no way of piling 30 students into the back of our pick-up truck and the window of time to fix this problem before students gave up on us and went home was quickly depleting.

One thing I will definitely say about Ghanaian people is that they are resourceful-they are so adept at using what they have to make things work. As I began to feel the pangs of disappointment that our whole day was down the drain, one of the men working on the bus came up with an extra battery that they had extracted from another vehicle (hopefully with permission, haha) and began to install it into the bus. A few minutes later, after many unsuccessful attempts and a lot of whining from the bus engine, the ignition turned and the bus came to life-raring to go. The students hopped in and we sped off to the new campus to make sure the others waited.

Despite our rocky start, the Entrepreneurship Olympics turned out to be a success. The T-Poly E-Club members that had come to help man the stations and set-up moved quickly with me to get everything organized before the bus made it out. We had 34 students show up out of the 40 that registered-impressive stats given the situation. They had a great time moving through the five activities I had extracted from the DREP curriculum and made into a relay. (This was a great idea Mike had shared with me during his visit to Tamale). The students were really enthusiastic and we saw a real sense of competition between them as they worked their way through the following stations:
1) Characteristics of an Entrepreneur
2) Brain Teasers
3) Idea Generation
4) Tower of Power (my favourite-they are given a stack of various materials like pens, flipchart paper, string, paper clips and masking tape. They have to build the highest freestanding tower they can that will hold an egg for 15 seconds. It’s a team building activity that helps students get “outside the box” of the structured classroom environment they’re used to and puts them in a creative thinking mindset.)
5) Pass the Ball

A representative from the local radio station made a visit to check out the Entrepreneurship Olympics and see what we were up to. When we had tallied up the points and made our way to the front of the classroom to announce the winners, the students were so excited. They whooped and cheered as each team’s final points were read out. Finally, the winning team was declared and there was an explosion of cheering as the team jumped out of their seats and came to collect their prize-the blue and white DREP t-shirts we designed for the event. We handed out all the participation certificates and gathered for a group picture. I had one t-shirt left over and many of the students came up to me to give me their pitch of why they should take it home-“I left my baby to be here today”…"I’m an entrepreneur..I’m taking a leadership role and asking you to give it to me”- each followed by laughter and more teasing.

We packed everything up and were just about to leave the campus when we found out that once again, the bus wouldn’t start. So the 5 of us taking the truck and some nearby students gathered behind the bus and began pushing to give it a kick-start. It sputtered and whined again and then grudgingly started took to our efforts and set off for town again. I took the E-Club members and Dr.Batse out for some jollof rice and fufu and then we were back on the road, heading home to Tamale.

I returned just in time to take a quick shower and join Morgan and Shawn to attend Nancy (our Canadian grandmother ; ) and Frank’s Canadian pre-Christmas party. It was a similar crowd to our other Canadian events, and a nice chance to hear what everyone had planned for the holidays. Some people were making a visit home for Christmas, others were done their work and heading home for good, and the rest of us swapped travel itineraries and shared advice for places to go and places to stay away from. True to the Christmas spirit, we all indulged in one too many appies and far too many Christmas treats before piling merrily into the back of two vehicles that a couple of the long-term expats had come with.

Christmas at Jisonayilli

“Oh the weather outside is frightful…”

True, it’s not the blizzardy, snowy weather this Christmas song leads one to visualize, but the weather that this Christmas season is accompanied by here in Ghana is equally frightful to me. I believe I have already mentioned the harmattan before, but I am now truly experiencing the extent of this evil wind, and a whole new season has replaced the tolerable humidity that marked the tail end of the rainy season. The harmattan is a wind that blows in from the Sahara desert, bringing enough dust with it that the city can sometimes look like everyone decided to burn their garbage on the same day. (Fusi told me that further north, the dust gets so bad that you can’t see the headlights of cars infront of you. I told him I could picture this dilemma..it would be the same as a snow storm at home.) The harmattan wind makes a significant impact on the climate- the evenings and mornings are very cool (for us), dropping to around 8 degrees or so and accompanied by a light mist. Then, after the sun has made its breathtaking appearance on the African horizon and settled in nicely above the tree line, an intense heat quickly replaces the cool morning air. The wind blows in hot and dry, just like a Saskatchewan day in the height of summer. In fact, though the heat here is something I can’t say I’ve ever experienced before (and I’m told we haven’t reached the peak yet), the terrain is looking oddly familiar to a prairie girl. The leaves are becoming dry and yellow, falling from their branches like an elm tree in the autumn. Most of the fields have been harvested and all that remains outside the city limits are dry, yellow remnants of various crops lying in rows of dirt, broken up by some random trees along the way and dry, wild grasses flickering in the wind. The days seem long and hazy, like those last couple of weeks in August where the only thing that moves with any vitality, unhindered by the heat, is the wind. I think my body is a little confused…it feels almost like Saskatchewan on an August day, but it’s the middle of December and Christmas is around the corner. Maybe this is what bears feel like when they accidentally come out of hibernation too early ; ) haha

So amid this strange new season, we hosted our first Christmas party at Jisonayilli this past Saturday. Kristine, my roommate from Denmark, will be travelling home on Friday and her mother has been staying with us for the past week- we wanted to hold an African Christmas party before they left. On Saturday morning Morgan and Tanya hosted a “group meeting” where we indulged on fresh pineapples, watermelon, oranges and imported coffee and set out to delegate everyone’s tasks for the day and create a menu as close to the traditional Christmas dinners each of us knew from home. We agreed that Morgan would use his motorcycle to get the groceries, Victor would get the produce from the market (yes, it was quite a risk we took….we actually sent two men out to do the grocery shopping, haha); Nichole was to pick up the bread for stovetop stuffing, Kristine and her mom went to King David’s Inn to pre-order the guinea fowls that would be substituting the turkey, and I ran home to work on a secret project ; ) ; )

In addition to preparing the dinner, we decided to do a gift exchange game that Victor knew of so each of us had to come up with 2 gifts under 2 cedis. We decided that the small tree growing in the “courtyard” of our house (approximately a 10 foot by 10 foot square of soil with one tree growing in it that the middle of the house has been built around) would serve as a wonderful Charlie Brown Christmas tree- so of course Christmas decorations were also going to be necessary.

This is how it all panned out:

My “secret” was a large gingerbread house, which I had begun in the wee hours that morning. I ran home while everyone was bustling about with errands to get all the walls baked before everyone got home. Then Morgan, Kristine and I set out to make it into an extravagant centre piece/dessert. (That ones for you mom…the cookie traditions you started are imbedded in me : )

As for the Christmas tree decorations, Nichole and Kristine crafted some very impressive, and good-looking angels. They used coloured paper to make into cones for the base of the angel’s body and then used the pink foam that the imported apples come in to make wings. To top them off, Nichole found a large newspaper clipping she had brought from home with the faces of some of Canada’s famous media figures…so Rick Mercer, Peter Mansbridge and friends became the faces of our lovely Christmas ornaments.

Our dinner turned out magnificently- the menu featured guinea fowl, stove top stuffing, Danish stuffing (roasted apples, raisins, onions and nuts in a spicy juice), scalloped potatoes and fresh salad. For dessert we had the gingerbread house, Shawn’s rice pudding and marzipan, nougat, spice cookies and Finnish Fingers (shortbread) brought in straight from Denmark by Kristine’s mom. To wash it all down, Kristine’s mom mixed a warm batch of gloggi (the warm, spiced red wine that I had when I was in Finland!). In the mask of the darkness outside and the glow of the candles inside, one could nearly convince themselves that there actually was snow beyond those dark windows. (It also kind of felt like we were the orphans in Neverland who had finally found a mother, haha).

One of the neatest things about our dinner was sharing it with our Ghanaian friends. Assiah, her brother Tommy, and her friend Martia agreed to come and try all of the food. Before we all began to eat, Nichole had each of us go around and name one thing that we are thankful for (instead of saying grace because we had a number of faiths represented at the table). Every one of us spoke of how grateful we were simply to spend time with such wonderful people and to share this special meal together. After my turn had passed I looked at all the smiling faces, glowing in the candle light. Here we were, a truly diverse group of people from Africa, Europe and North America, of all ages, Muslims and Christians alike, sharing a meal together and expressing our gratitude simply for being able to spend time with one another. I tried to freeze time for a moment and take a picture in my mind- this was such a special moment…it was the kind of thing that Christmas is all about.

After our meal we had a great time with the gift exchange and among some of the more original gifts, some went home with: pomeade from Nigeria, a shea butter soap bar, a pineapple…and my ultimate favourite- an umbrella tree!!! (remember that show Carly?)

Farmer's Day, Dec.7th

In Ghana, the first Friday in December is "National Farmer's Day"- a holiday where local farmers are recognized for their contribution to Ghana's agricultural production and recognized for their individual success. Award ceremonies are organized at the regional, district and national level throughout Ghana and politicians embrace the opportunity to share their message to the mass crowds (of course arriving with their entourage of large SUV's and closely followed by the local media).

I was invited by one of our partner NGO's to attend the Northern Regional celebration in Saboba, a small town near the Togo border. We left Tamale around 6 a.m. and made our way first towards Yendi. Yendi is a well known town about 45 minutes outside of Tamale..."well known" because that is where the Dagomba Chieftancy Crisis errupted back in 2002. Though the conflict has subsided in most parts of the North, Yendi is still a very troubled town, as the crisis has yet to be resolved and violence between the tribes still plagues the area.

One thing about road trips in Ghana, is that you can never enter a vehicle with the expectation that your journey will be an uninterrupted venture from point A to point B. Rather, it is a journey filled with short stops at numerous towns and villages to visit with a friend, pass a message on to a relative, check the price of yams, and conduct numerous other ventures along the way. Therfore, our "3 hour" trip nicely rounded out to a nearly a four hour escapade. So as mentioned above, our first stop was in Yendi, where I was left for about 15 mintues with the driver while my coworker conducted a short visit with a friend.

The driver was a lively man who was very interested in telling me about his life and learning about how things are done in Canada. I had a fascinating, but heartbreaking conversation with him about the situation in Africa and the struggles that most face everyday. Fusi told me that he spends half his salary on water because the "water has not flowed" in his neighbourhood for 5 years. The rest of his money is spent on his four children's school fees, three other relatives school fees that he's expected to pay, and then he mentions "What of food...I cannot buy proper vegetables or the food I'm supposed to after I have spent 4 months trying to pay my children's school fees...I do not have piece of mind". I know I do not often include these realities in my blog, but Fusi's story hit me like a slap on the face as I was forced to face the realities of a typical northern Ghanaian. He told me that "men die of frustration in this land" and reminded me that Africa "is not okay...the situation is NOT okay." I sat there for many minutes unable to muster a response- how could I possible tell him I knew how he felt or that I understood...we both knew the situation was not the same where I was coming from and anything I could think of to say felt so mediocre & petty. But Fusi seemed to simply appreciate that I had listened and he kindly smiled approvingly.

After the first stop in Yendi, we investigated yam prices in a few places and carried on. Midway through the journey we had to make a pit stop (of course at my request...darn that weak bladder) in the middle of the bush. There is no point in "holding it 'till the next town" because there won't be a bathroom in whatever village you might come across- if you're lucky you'll find one of my "favourite" cement structures like the one at T-Poly. So the bush would have been best, except my coworker had just finished informing me that the bush fires we kept seeing were started because farmers think that gets rid of some of the snakes. I squatted in the bush repeating to myself "Please no snakes, please no snakes...." while also attempting not to urinate on my long skirt or my leg.

Finally we arrived in Saboba were a large rectangle of canopies had been assembled in a parched, yellow field. Many people were bustling about and a local group of dancers and drummers were making their way around the inside of the rectangle. The ceremony began a few hours late and entailed nearly 40 awards of best cassava crop, best fisherman, best yams, etc. etc. etc. and the award our group worked on "Best Entrepreneurial Group". Most recipients received a bicycle and some other farm related goods from various different sponsors.

Once the ceremony was over I had a chance to visit with some of the EWB (Engineers without borders) volunteers who are working with MOFA (The Ministry of Food and Agriculture). Then it was back to the truck for a long, bumpy ride home and the acquisition of nearly 60 yams from various villages.

They've got that Rider Pride...

I'm a little behind with my blog, so at the risk of duplicating what some may have seen in the LP, I will quickly share with you where I was the night the Riders won the Grey Cup (and why I thought it was going to be the last night of my life, haha).

On Sunday evening at approximately 8pm our time, Shawn, Nichole and I began to prepare for a late night of listening to the Grey Cup game over the internet. We had done our research earlier that day to determine where we could find a 24 hour internet cafe and ensure we would be welcome until the wee hours of the morning. The Garbia Lodge, a hotel quite close to Jisonayilli turned out to be our best option, and we were fortunate it was within biking distance because it would have been virtually impossible to "pick a taxi" (local lingo) at the hour we finally packed it in.

We arrived at Gariba decked out from head to toe in green and white- Shawn wearing a watermelon on his head adorning a big "S";Nichole with her freshly painted green motorcycle helmet; and I with a bandana, pigtails, long white socks, and an unsightly combination of lime and grass green attire. We were armed with 4-5 hours worth of popcorn, pringles (an incredibley expensive import here), water and a terrible mixture of coffee and Milo that Nichole concocted. We were accompanied by two other Canadians who joined us for the beginning of the game (but due to the fact that they were from B.C. and Alberta, their stamina to stay up for the whole game dwindled...we expect simply because they were jealous, ; ) The staff got quick a kick out of our get-up and kindly showed us to the small internet cafe on the grounds.

Sometime around the 3rd quarter or so, at about 1:30 a.m. when we were down to just Nichole, Shawn, myself and a few crumbs of pringles, a man nonchalantly entered the cafe. I was in the far right hand side of the room, sitting on a table, with Shawn to my left, and Nichole a few feet further down, writing an email on the laptop. I looked over at the unknown man, who had not greeted us upon entering (a bit strange in Ghana) and realized he was holding a machette in this hand. His fingers were clasped around the handle and the blade was slightly concealed by his forearm. Perhaps it was the late night, or too much coffee, but all of a sudden my mind began to race as I imagined what on earth this person was doing in here at this hour with a machette. I slowly got off the table and began edging closer to the window (to evaluate whether it was a potential escape route) and tried to glance at Shawn to see if he had noticed the massive knife in our "visitor's" hand. Shawn seemed unconcerned, and Nichole hadn't noticed anything as she was engulfed in the article she was typing out. My knees began to feel weak as I panicked while the man's back was to us...he had turned on the small tv in the other corner and was standing watching it. Finally, Shawn went over to say something to him (I was hoping he would step up and be a man...haha) and shortly after the man left again. In the end, we were able to confirm that the man was actually Gariba's night watchman and he had simply come in to check on us. Most night watchmen carry machette's here (actually, so do school children sometimes if they're doing work in the field after school), so his "weapon" was not out of the ordinary. None the less, it took me a good 20 minutes to relax and have a good laught about it.

As we all know, the Riders won and though we weren't able to make it out for the mass celebration on Dewdney, we will likely never forget where we were the night the Riders won the GREY CUP! (And when I tell the story to my grandchildren, the machette will probably get bigger, the man will be larger and scarier, and the LP article will somehow become the global news. ; ) haha

North To Bolgatanga

Early Tuesday morning I travelled two hours north to Bolgatanga with Mike Wyse, one of the Project Management Team members visiting from Canada, and our T-Poly driver, Ziblim. The DREP project is a partnership between 3 polytechnics in the north and NSAC, so I was excited to meet the team members in Bolga and get some things moving up there.

Luckily the Bolga Road is one of the better highways in the north, so it was a pretty smooth ride. We started the morning off with a breakfast meeting with Dr. Batchia, one of the PMT members from Bolgatanga Polytechnic. He was an incredibly interesting man and helped us immensely over the next couple of days. He completed his masters in the UK and lived in the US for 7 years before returning home to Ghana.

Next, we had planned to do a classroom visit to one of the B-Poly classes and were anticipating approx. 50 students. But when we arrived, we were greeted with an auditorium of 200 first years. Mike and I quickly revised our game plan and got some activities started. The DREP teaching model is competency based and differs from most models here in that it is very participative. Students are sometimes shocked to find they can be loud and move around while they’re learning.

After our classroom visit Dr. Batchia took us to one of his favourite local restaurants where I gave fufu another try. Fufu is a big lump of pounded yam served with either okra soup (slimy and green) groundnut soup (think peanut soup) or light soup poured over it. The groundnut soup was delicious! (On a quick sidebar, I have to describe my favourite Ghanaian dish so far. It’s called Red-Red and it is a plate of spicy beans in tomato sauce served with chicken and fried plantains. The sweet taste of the plantains is a delightful combination with the spicy beans!)

Our next stop was a visit with one of DREP’s pilot program graduates, nicknamed “Professor”. Professor did the training in November 2005 and developed a business plan to raise guinea fowl and sell them commercially. We had an opportunity to visit his small farm and try some smoked guinea fowl. I was brave enough to try the meat even though the bird is smoked with the head, beak and talons all still attached. Grandpa would be proud!

Professor’s farm was about 30 minutes out of Bolgatanga so we had an opportunity to observe the damages that the September floods caused in this region of Ghana. Parts of the road were completely washed out with crevices up to my knees in some parts. The more devastating site was to see how dry it has become already. The land is parched and brown, the soil is cracked and baked dry from the sun and most of the baobab trees no longer have any leaves. We saw a wide stream completely dried up with nothing to indicate it had ever held water except for the curved markings in the sand. It is only the beginning of the dry season and I can’t imagine what things will look like come December. The rain will not come until April, and this is one of the areas where the food security NGO’s try to bring in food and water to prevent people from starving.

Despite the hardships that Professor’s family is facing, they were extremely lively and kind when we came to visit. I had a great time taking pictures of everyone and showing them the image on the screen. Some of the older women had probably never seen themselves in a picture. We could not understand each other but smiles, laughs, and handshakes went a long way. Professor showed us the homemade incubator he’s made by stacking small rocks all together where the sun can keep the eggs warm. He showed us the little mud huts the birds are kept in and the small mango trees he’s planted to provide shade and food for the farm. He rides his bike all the way from his mother’s house in town to the farm and carries the eggs back in a crate and transports the guinea fowl he will smoke in town with a contraption that looks like a big lobster cage.

We returned on Wednesday night in time for a quick shower (mine was a bucket shower…the water was off again) and then proceeded to the High Commissioner’s reception at the Mariam Hotel. It was a really nice, relaxed event with many of the same guests who were at the Thanksgiving celebration. The HC (Darren) and his wife, Heather were really interested in hearing about our internships and they had many stories to share themselves- they have previously lived in Malawi, Egypt, and Central America to name a few and they have just begun their three years here in Ghana. They have also just adopted a child from Haiti so she will soon be joining them in Accra.

I’m very thankful we have such a nice expat group here. Though we are all from various places in Canada we share a common bond to “home” and a common goal to try to make a difference.

Baking with Betty

Recently I noticed a rack of pastries in one of the general provisions stores. There were small cakes, mini doughnuts, and homemade crisps which I have never seen before in Tamale. All the products were packed and labeled with a small tag “Mansa Betty Pasteries” listing the price, contact information and product name. I was really impressed to see that this entrepreneur had identified the importance of labeling a product and equally impressed to find that these products were available at a number of the grocery stores and gas stations-she had an established distribution system.
As part of the public awareness campaign, I have been asked to highlight successful entrepreneurs in the northern region to provide others with a source of encouragement and motivation. So I used the label to set up an appointment to visit Betty and we got together on Friday. She told me all about the small pastry business that she runs out of her 3 room house on Lamashedu. She learned the trade in Accra and slowly built up her business by purchasing an egg beater, large bowls, an electric stove, and a doughnut maker (which makes 5 at a time and looks like a George Foreman Grill). She begins making her products on Saturday and then works through the night on Sunday so that she can deliver the products fresh on Monday. She personally visits each store to check their inventory, then drops off the new products and removes the old ones.
I wanted to profile Betty in some of my promotional work, so we made a deal: I would teach her how to make banana bread and next week, Grandma Joy’s shortbread, and in return I get to watch her whole process and interview her. So on Saturday morning I returned to Betty’s and we got to work. I had to make a few improvisations, but the banana bread turned out really well and we had a blast working together and getting to know one another as we asked each other questions and swapped information.
After we were done the banana bread, Betty toured me around her neighbourhood and took me to her friend’s baby naming ceremony. The baby naming ceremony was like a Ghanaian version of a baby shower. All the women in the neighbourhood came over to view the baby and produce a small gift. The baby was officially given its name and they shaved her head, which is a traditional practice. I took some pictures and the women loved seeing themselves on the digital camera.
I will visit Betty next week to share Grandma Joy’s shortbread recipe with her- who knew our favourite Christmas shortbread would travel all the way to Africa!!!

If You Build It, They Will Come

(Photos: T-Poly classroom, entering T-Poly, the DREP Sign, my office, the HND Block where my office is located, the crafts and diploma side of the campus, one of the smaller classrooms, the T-Poly radio station, my project coordinator Razak, the toilet I reallyhate)

After some delay, things at Tamale Polytechnic have swung into full gear. Students have returned to register for classes and lectures are set to begin next week. The increased traffic around campus has been really motivating and already there are 40 students signed up for the Entrepreneurship Club. We are anticipating a group of approx. 60! I have really enjoyed meeting all of the students who have come by to register; their enthusiasm to get involved is very inspiring. I’m hoping to get the E-Club involved in implementing some of the public awareness campaign as well so we will be very busy planning events, visiting the secondary schools, and spreading the spirit of entrepreneurship.

Hopefully the pictures I’ve posted can help you visualize the T-Poly campus. T-Poly is located on Education Ridge, a large area near the stadium where a number of training colleges and post secondary schools are located. The school offers tertiary (marketing, accounting, general management etc.) and non-tertiary courses (welding, fashion design, carpentry, etc.). As you enter the campus, on the right side of the road, is the HND (Higher National Diploma) Block where the tertiary courses are delivered. My office is located on the second floor of the block. The other side of the road features all of the craft and diploma (non-tertiary) buildings, the digital tech centre, the library, the central administration block, and all of the outdoor b-ball and v-ball courts.

An interesting thing that evolved from the advertisements for the E-Club has been a number of members of the community, particularly past T-Poly students, who have expressed interest in becoming involved. I had a hairdresser from the market near T-Poly come visit me on behalf of the micro-enterprise owners in the market to find out if they could join the club. I also had a local teacher from a nearby village come to me to see if I had some resources to share with him for the entrepreneurship training he conducts in his village. I am excited to see that there is a general interest within the community to learn more about entrepreneurship.

In one week the Canadian High Commissioner is due to visit Tamale and he will be dropping by T-Poly to see the school and learn more about the DRE Project. The timing is perfect because one of the PMT members from the Nova Scotia Agricultural College, Mike Wyse, will also be here for the visit. Mike and I will then be travelling north to visit Bolgatanga Polytechnic and begin some promotional work there.

A Trip to Nyankpala Clinic

Before I go into this story, I must share with you the current scene as I’m writing this. I’m set up at my dining table watching a lightning storm illuminate the black sky outside my kitchen window. The arcs of our veranda are outlined with the white light of each flash and the palm trees become visible on the horizon for an instant before disappearing into the darkness once again. Thunder rumbles quietly amid the sound of the palm leaves shaking in the wind, until the sound is interrupted by the blaring call for prayers from the Mosque just beyond our house, wailing in Arabic for all to gather for 6pm prayers.

I love storms, so I am delighted to take it all in as I describe to you these last couple of days….

I think it’s fair to say that most foreigners never quite feel 100% most of the time here in Africa. The food is different, the purified water may not always be quite true to its name, the heat can be excruciating on our light skin, and things in general just aren’t up to the sterile conditions we are used to in the West. However, on Saturday I began to feel quite under the weather and spent the majority of the day trying to sleep off a headache and an achy body. The condition persisted on Sunday and by Monday it seemed inevitable that a malaria test was in order. At home when it is necessary to see a doctor, it is not a particularly difficult task-if we’re in a rush we can step into a walk-in clinic, we most likely have the phone number of our family doctor, or if it’s a real emergency, we can simple head to the hospital. Here in Tamale it is not quite so convenient- it is difficult to navigate a proper clinic where you can feel comfortable and confident with the level of care and accuracy you will be treated with; there are some expat stories of questionable clinics and prescriptions. One of my favourite stories that particularly illustrates this point was a friend’s visit to a clinic when he was worried about malaria or food poisoning. He was convinced to put a device on his head that was hooked up to an old computer which the doctor claimed would enable him to see inside his stomach. If the computer screen showed black x’s, these indicated salmonella and ecoli in his stomach. When asked where this device came from, the doctor replied that it was “the latest technology from NASA….at least that’s what the instructions say.”

Further, since touring the hospital during our first week in Tamale, this is also an option I refused to consider. Though there are surely some very qualified physicians treating 100’s of patients a day, the fact that they do not even have running water makes me greatly concerned about the sanitary conditions of the institute. Also, when a person goes there to see a doctor, they must wait among 30-40 other patients outside the 3 or 4 consultation rooms, making the visit a nearly day-long affair.

The best course of action is to ask a seasoned expat for a good clinic they know of. So on Monday morning I headed to Ricky’s Pharmacy, where I was told a good foreign doctor worked out of. This turned out to be a dead end, the attendants in the pharmacy had never heard of the doctor I was looking for. I stood in the street making phone calls and eventually was directed to the New Life Medical Laboratory, just across from the hospital. I must admit that by the time I arrived at the clinic I was feeling rather sorry for myself, hot from trekking around the city centre looking for a doctor, and wishing for something more familiar. Once in the clinic, I filled out the necessary paperwork, paid 4 Ghana Cedis to get the test, and then slouched into a plastic chair in the waiting room.

My first malaria test was negative so I went home having accomplished very little, and scheduled to return tomorrow morning since 2 or 3 negative tests are required to confirm you do not have the parasite. Tuesday morning produced a negative test as well which was good, but the problem remained that I didn’t feel good and as New Life is simply a laboratory, I needed to find another clinic to go to where I could see a doctor. A friend directed me to Nyankpala Clinic where two English doctors work on the University of Development Medical Campus. It took me three or four tries to flag down a taxi driver that knew of the place, but finally we were off. I had been told that the clinic was about 20 minutes west of Tamale, but I didn’t realize that Nyankpala was actually another town. We ended up out on the open “highway”, where I was graced with an amazing view of the open savannah, sprinkled with mud huts and baobab trees.

I got sucked into paying an outrageous amount for the taxi, but I was very thankful to be greeted by an English, female doctor once I got in the clinic. Everything was orderly and since the doctor and her husband (who is also a practicing physician in the clinic) have been in Africa for almost 40 years, there was no question she knew her stuff. In the end, I was simply experiencing some side effects from my malaria pills as well as a stomach bug.
It was about noon by the time I left the clinic and I was feeling quite tired, having dosed off a number of times in the waiting room. I asked for advice on the easiest and cheapest way to get back to Tamale and was directed to stand on the road and wait with some of the other UDS (University of Development Studies) students for one of the university buses heading into town. As I approached a small group of students, we were suddenly told to move away…there was a snake in the grass behind us. Some of the guys started throwing chunks of cement block at it until it slithered away out of sight. I turned from watching the snake, and was just in time to see the UDS bus whizz right by us, filled beyond capacity. I asked the student beside me if he thought another bus would come, and he figured perhaps one might come by in a half hour or so. He suggested we could walk to the main road and try to get a lift, so I joined him along with another girl carrying a baby on her back. At this point I couldn’t help but laugh at the whole crazy situation-here I was sweating and feeling ill, having just spotted my first African snake, and trotting down the road under the blaring sun with two strangers, about to hitchhike my way back into town. The girl with the baby was the first of us to catch a ride. She was taking her son to the hospital and managed to flag down a truck and squeeze into the back. My new friend, Shani, and I took shelter under a thatch roof where women were selling bread. After about 15 minutes another bus showed up and we tried to grab a spot but it was packed full and many others were trying to cram in ahead of us. On the other side of the road I saw an SUV approaching-SUV’s usually mean NGO’s so I was hopeful I could flag them down. They ended up being UDS profs, and kindly gave Shani and I a lift into town. They dropped us off in an area of town that was completely unfamiliar to me, and I was lucky that Shani walked me back into the city centre to grab a cab. When I got home I couldn’t even be bothered to fetch a bucket of water for a shower before I crawled into bed and zonked out for the remainder of the afternoon.

The Funeral

On Thursday our night watchman, Mohammad, invited us to attend a funeral with him. An elderly neighbour of his had passed away and the community was going to be holding a traditional Dagombe funeral celebration. In African Traditional Religion, funerals are a cause for celebration, particularly if you have passed away on the grounds of your own community and have bared a number of children to leave behind. It is believed that deceased ancestors will continue to be with the community, therefore it is important to give them a proper farewell in order to please them so they can return as a good spirit. Ayda and I were more than happy to have an opportunity to observe the celebration and we brought along two of our little next door neighbours to check it out.

The funeral took place at a mud hut community just north of Jiisonayilli and as we ventured over, there was no question we were headed in the right direction. We could hear gun shots, cow bells, drums, and people chanting from across the road. When we arrived we were greeted warmly by Mohammad and introduced to his wife and young son. We then joined the rest of the crowd to watch the “parade” of people conduct three circles around the deceased’s compound. Elderly men were decked out in their traditional clothing: a kente cloth smock, boots, and floppy velvet hats that look like a toque worn above the ear. Some rode on horses (which is interesting because we’ve never seen a horse in Tamale or in the fields), others danced and swung their smocks in a circular motion to the music. Younger men followed behind beating drums or shooting rifles into the air. The women danced among them all, shuffling their feet in something that resembles a two-step but with more lateral movement up top.

After the parade of people had circled the compound three times they performed three circles around an open area where the dancing would be taking place. Then the crowd began to split and three large circles were formed around various groups of drummers. In each circle people were approached individually by the drummers and beckoned to come show their moves in the middle. The crowd watched, moving to the music, and taking turns placing coins on the forehead of the dancers. My favourite dancer was a very short man wearing a big white smock and rose tinted glasses. He went out there moving slowly, tapping his boots and swinging his smock. He gradually began to move faster and faster, twisting his body to make his smock swoop in big circles, and flashing a big, contagious grin.

As dusk approached, a huge wind built up and we had to hurry back to get the girls home. The funeral celebrations were scheduled to break at 6pm for Muslim prayers and then continue all through the night until morning prayers the following day.

I awoke this morning trying to figure out why my ears felt like I’d been to a rock concert the night before, and then realized it was the gun shots ringing in my ears.

Ede Festivities

This weekend was a long weekend to celebrate Ede, the celebration for the end of Ramadan and the end of a one month fast for all Muslim people. Even though we had not taken part in the fast, we were encouraged to join in on the festivities taking place throughout the city. On Saturday we ventured to the city centre to walk around the cultural centre and check things out. It was evident that something special was going on- everyone was dressed in their Sunday best and many kids were wearing colourful plastic sunglasses that they received as gifts. The atmosphere in the city centre was more vibrant than we’d seen before and music boomed from the cultural centre. When we returned home late that afternoon we had a surprise visit from a local banjo artist. He knocked at our door and then came in to give us a fifteen minute concert of singing and strumming his African banjo. He had a really powerful voice and a big smile as he shook his bootie while he played.

Saturday evening we all gathered at Swad Restaurant for Lise’s birthday. There were about 17 of us out…a combination of Ghanaians and expats from all over the world. I made a banana cake for the occasion and even though there are bananas everywhere here the Ghanaians had never tried it before. Most Ghanaians don’t really like sweet things but Idris and Paul decided they could definitely make an exception for this cake. After supper we went to our first African Club at the Picorna Hotel. When we first got there it was pretty dead, but slowly the place filled up and we had a great time dancing to R&B and hip hop with all the locals.

Our group has slowly expanded this past week. Shawn and Nichole, a couple from Saskatchewan have arrived in Tamale and joined us for our evening out on Saturday. On Sunday, a new roommate from The Netherlands moved into the last empty room in the house. His name is Victor and he is an international economics student doing an internship with the World Food Program. We immediately warmed up to him last night when he and our buddy Morgan made a wonderful pasta dinner with beef sausages (the first time we’ve ever cooked meat in the house), steamed beans, SALAD!!, and a dessert liquor that Victor had brought from South Africa.

Thanksgiving and Farewell to John Alcorn

On Saturday morning I awoke with my hair looking unmistakably like Jack Sparrow’s from Pirates of the Caribbean. We had taken out the top of my braids the evening before, leaving me with a combination of matted locks amid the “dreads” that still remained. It was unanimously decided that it would be best that I did not attend the wedding I was planning to join Tanya and Morgan at. Instead my two roommates began to tackle the remaining braids with knives…working the tightly braided plastic hair out of own locks. Three hours later I emerged having shed my Jack Sparrow look-alike do for something that now resembled Diana Ross’s afro or a nasty rendition of those 80’s styles that most could only achieve from a long session with a crimper and an entire bottle of hairspray. Washing my hair for the first time in a week felt amazing; all in all the “African Makeover” was lots of fun but I think I’ll stick with ponytails from here on in ; )

On Saturday evening we were invited for a Thanksgiving Dinner at Nancy and Frank Cosway’s, two CIDA project workers who have worked in Ghana for a total of over 20 years, and most recently have been stationed here in Tamale for 7 years. Tanya and I were hoping to have departed freshly showered for our little celebration, but just after 3pm we were informed that the water had been turned off for an undetermined amount of time throughout Tamale and unfortunately, our polytank of reserve water turned out to be empty. Doused in a little extra mosquito spray we set off to try to flag down a tro-tro driver who would understand where the “Northern Regional Office” was. (This is one of the exasperating things about Tamale…you always have to know the magic “key word” that is necessary to get people to understand you. For example: “Do you have a bike lock”…confused face and no answer. “Do you have a lock…for bikes?”…still no answer or flicker of understanding. “I’m looking for a lock…to lock up my bike?” …finally an answer emerges.. "No…we don't have”. ) So Nancy had given us this key phrase, “Northern Regional Office”, to make our way to her bungalow. Forty-five minutes later after our driver insisted on a hugely inflated rate for his services, we ended up walking to the house, unable to direct our driver. Thankfully the meal had not yet begun and we were greeted warmly into a moderate bungalow decorated with beautiful authentic Ghanaian art and filled with the wonderful aroma of Thanksgiving Dinner. About 20 guests, a combination of young Canadian interns sprinkled with Sisters from one of the missionaries, sat in a round circle munching on groundnuts and enjoying the MacLeans magazines and Globe and Mail newspapers Frank had just brought from his trip to Canada. Our buffet style Thanksgiving was just as impressive as any spread found at home. We had turkey, stuffing with dried fruit, gravy, pumpkin, mashed potatoes, marinated vegetables, a vegetarian lasagna, and Greek salad. We all happily enjoyed our meals, chatting with other each other about the triumphs and trials of our experiences so far, swapping travel stories, and reminiscing of home. The amazing meal was completed with a pineapple upside down cake made from fresh, Ghanaian pineapples and chocolate chip ice cream!

By Sunday afternoon the water situation was beginning to become a lot more pressing than it had been the day previous. Our “family breakfast” used up the rest of our clean dishes and we were slowly sitting a little further away from one another as it had now been over 24 hours since any of us had showered, despite the sticky heat. We took turns using Kristine’s backpack and cycling (slowly, so as not to sweat)to the gas station to buy bags of water to at least wash our hands and faces. If the water is not on by tomorrow morning I will be using 500 mL sachets of water to “shower” for work.

Sunday night I attended a going away party for my “Ghanaian Dad”, John Alcorn, the temporary administrator at TICCS. He is an immigration lawyer from California who took a year off from his law practice to come and volunteer here in Ghana. The picture below is my original TICCS family- my little sister Lise, John and I. We all bid farewell to John at a barbecue under the starry African night with old time jazz and African tunes piping into the courtyard. I couldn't help but smile when a song I recognized from the African Summit cd strummed in the clear air of this calm, African night amidst the crickets and toads croaking softly in the background. It was just over a month ago that I had played that some song while I packed and daydreamed of the adventure before me.

My African Hair Makeover