The Final Entry:

After the trip to Wa things moved incredibly fast. In the final month of my internship I planned one more Women's Entrepreneurship Event-this time in Tamale and helped the Entrepreneurship Club at T-Poly strike up a student executive (the picture below). We also planned a whirl-wind tour to watch the Africa Cup games that were hosted in Ghana. We traveled to Kumasi to cheer for Ghana in the third place final (they won!) and then went on to Accra to watch Egypt capture their third title in a row against a crushed Cameroonian team.















It was sad to say goodbye to the students-during our last meeting they brought a photographer to come and do a group shot and presented me with a traditional kente cloth smock. I was so touched by their thoughtfulness and I couldn't believe how quickly our time together had passed. The staff at T-Poly also gave me a warm farewell-treating me to a dinner of traditional Ghanaian cuisine and presenting me with some Ghanaian clothes and accessories to take back with me.

On my last night in Tamale I had a fabulous hot dog roast with my friends from the house. My Ghanaian friend, Joseph insisted that I try real dog meat so he brought that over and Shawn and Nicole wrote me a fun farewell song, which made me tear up. After the dinner I pulled an all-nighter trying to get my drum and a 10 pound statue stuffed into my suitcases. 6am came way too quickly and all of a sudden I was hauling my bags out into the darkness and preparing to make my way back to the airport with my project coordinator, Razak. As we drove to the airport I tried to take in all the sights of my neighbourhood one last time. I was so tired but my mind was running with thoughts-would I ever be back here? Would it be the same if I did? I smiled to myself as I remembered the scene at the Tamale airport six months ago- my knees were shaking when I climbed down from that little plane and realized I was in fact, in Africa!

There wasn't too much time to lament though, after a 45 minute flight I was on my way to the ocean front resort I was bunking at for the night-a little treat for myself before I had to face the -20 weather in Canada. The resort was absolutely beautiful and since I arrived on a weekend, they had live African musicians playing at the grandstand in front of the pool all day. I ordered red-red (my favourite Ghanaian dish) for dinner that night and tried to breath in the beautiful, palm tree lined, ocean view one last time from my thatched-roofed gazebo.

Goodbye Ghana....Hello Family!!!!!!!!

I arrived home in Regina to a warm welcome from my family and friends. My first week back went in warp speed as I caught up with people back home. I had a welcome home party with the family, a surprise supper with the girls, and was treated to a show at the symphony. Then, Uncle Kim,Auntie Heather, Grandma and Grandpa offered to help me with my adjustment to the weather change....by taking me to the coldest part of Saskatchewan for 10 days!!!


Yes, just 3 weeks after arriving back in Canada I headed to Nemebien Lake with the Hughes Clan for some R & R. I got to drive on the ice road for the first time and took a shot at ice fishing. ( I figured even though I didn't actually catch a fish, I still came out on top in terms of the following ratio: amount of time spent fishing (1 day)/fish fries (3 : )= a happy fisherwoman. ) We got some x-country skiing in and Grandma and I learned how the locals put the fishing nets under the water. (picture below)























As always, hangin' with the Hughes clan was a blast!






















Within a few weeks I had traveled across an ocean; went from one temperature extreme to another; swapped my bike for a pair of skis; and instead of treading in flip flops across the dusty red dirt, I found myself clomping through snow up to my knees. It was at that exact moment-when I was over my boots in snow hiking back to the cabin that a quote by Helen Keller came to mind:

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all."

Thank you to everyone who "helped pack my parachute", I wouldn't have the courage to go for these adventures if it wasn't for all of you!

Until the next adventure....

Shawna from Ghana

Malaria and a 10 Day Whirlwind Tour in Wa

After the Christmas holiday I was back at work for only three days before I began to feel pretty under the weather. I assumed it was only a bit of "bus lag" but it turned out that I had malaria- how could I have a true African experience without getting a chance to see what this was like! Fortunately, I did not suffer as badly as my good friend Nichole and the "experience" was nothing more extreme that a bad case of the flu, though it was very weird to be so incredibly tired for nearly two weeks.

After I shook off the malaria, I was off to Wa, the capital of the Upper West Region, trying to make up for lost time. I am required to try to spread my efforts between Wa, Bolgatanga (in the Upper East Region) and Tamale, so I was due to get a project going in Wa. The "city" of Wa is not nearly as easy to travel to as Bolga-the red dirt road is plagued with pot holes and divets caused by the rainy season and now the Harmattan had blown a thick layer of loose sand over it, adding more obstacles on this difficult terrain.

I planned to put on a Women's Entrepreneurship Event in Wa and I had exactly 10 days to make this happen. Before we got down to business my DREP counterparts were kind enough to take me out to the Hippo Santuary that lies just west of Wa on the Black Volta River that separates Ghana and the Ivory Coast. We set off early in the morning because the hippos are best spotted between 6 and 7am or in the late evening. We picked up a tour guide in the local village near the river and packed the pick-up with life jackets. When we arrived at the bank of the river 4 ancient, traditional wooden canoes awaited us. Most had a decent amount of water sitting in the bottoms which led me to inquire if the boats leaked. I think the old fishermen who had gathered around the boats smirked a little, but finally one of the boys told me no, it's no problem.















So Baba, Matilda and I set off down the Black Volta River while Ziblim stayed on the bank grinning and snapping photos. The canoe ride was absolutely beautiful-the weather was still a little cool from the morning mist and the sun was just beginning to come to its full brilliance above the tree line. It was quiet but for a few small yellow birds that chirped lazily as they pecked away at the trees lining the river. I was happy the scene was so relaxing because I had a small memory of a story in the back of my mind that made me hesitate slightly before getting in the canoe. It was a story my dad told my sister and I- of some travelers that had a bad experience with hippos. It is actually a fairly unknown fact that hippos are one of the most dangerous wild animals. They seem pretty big and lazy (and the cartoon images we're accustomed to of the hippos with funny teeth and a bow tie don't help) but they are actually quite vicious. They tip over canoes and drown people in their mouths even though they are actually herbivores and they can run very fast despite their grandoise build.

But all that aside, on this particular Sunday morning I found myself in a small wooden boat, drifting down the river, seeking these creatures out. The fishermen had seen the hippos earlier that morning and indicated that we would probably have to canoe at least an hour down the river before we saw them. But within a half hour we lucked out-a mother and her baby were in the middle of the river bobbing up and down along the waterline. We shuffled the canoe over to the very far side of the river bank and watched the river, quietly waiting for them to pop up each time for air. I tried to get a picture of them, but it was pretty hard to time it properly.

The Entrepreneurship Workshop in Wa was a lot of fun and I learned so much from the +50 women that attended and assisted with event. I was incredibly lucky to meet a Peace Corp. volunteer on my second day that was working with a local women's development group. She was really keen to help me out with my project and in the end, we figured it was destiny that we randomly met outside the internet cafe- she was feeling a little disenchanted with her posting because things were moving so slowly and I was feeling somewhat lost in Wa, unsure of where to begin in this strange city where I was lacking a network. But Joy knew lots of people, especially strong women in the community, and I had a plan and tight time lines- it was perfect! We built a team of female volunteers living in Wa and local women who agreed to present on various business skills in the workshop. We also managed to get the local Radio Station to come out and cover the event.

The discussions within our workshop were incredibly interesting and I realized how much culture affects business. (For example, when a woman asked me if it's okay to go and take something from someone's house or store when they owe you credit and haven't paid you back even when you've reminded them several times, I found myself a little unprepared. haha But, in fact, credit is a really typical problem for small business owners here.) I also gained an even greater appreciation for the barriers and struggles women in the north face on a daily basis. I hoped that at the end of the day, we had at least provided some knowledge that could help empower our attendees.

Christmas Vacation Part 4 of 4- Bonne Annee, We Make it to Togo!

We took some Nescafe in Accra and discussed the pros and cons of trying to get to Lome for New Years. It was Jan. 30th so we had one day to get there and unfortunately, in our state of care-free travelling, we had not realized it was Sunday and therefore all banks and foreign exchange bureaus were closed. Nicole had a small wad of CFC’s (currency for Burkina Faso and Togo) on hand, but we would be cutting it close and we didn’t know what the black market might be like at the border. Finally, we decided to go ahead and make our way to the border-worst case scenario we wouldn’t be able to change money and would have to stay in Afloa, the Ghanaian border town overnight until we could exchange some cedis. Finding a tro-tro to Afloa was chaotic and hectic. When we arrived at the tro-tro station there were many vans and taxis scattered everywhere amongst crowds of “helpers” and hustlers trying to take our bags and convince us to take their vehicle, or their buddy’s vehicle. We finally decided on a tro-tro that seemed legit and was nearly full, so it would be on the road quickly. The journey from Accra to Afloa was one of the most authentic, Ghanaian travelling experiences I’ve had to date. The road was really bad and our van bounced along it, nearly in tune with the Ghanaian High-Life music that was blasting on the crackly stereo system. Since it is less developed on the eastern side of Accra, our view out the window was often open savannah- red fields speckled with clusters of baobab trees. I say this journey was authentic because the tro-tro was properly run down, bulging full, topped with everything but the kitchen sink, blaring high-life music and bouncing along just like in the postcards I sent home.

The border crossing into Togo was relatively painless-for 40 GHC we had 7 days to take in this French-African country. The most complicated part of the whole endeavor seemed to be gluing the multiple postage stamps that would represent our visa into each person’s passport. Lome is actually right on the border, so we literally walked right into the city and were greeted by a hectic 500m or so of black market currency exchange operations. Once we passed this section we had a beautiful view of the ocean, lined with palm trees and open bars to our right. A soccer tournament was set up on the beach and small crowds were formed around the make-shift fields cheering. Our trusty Lonely Planet directed us to a great French hotel nearby. It had the look and feel of a European hostel, and the bar downstairs featured a real expresso machine which would mean we could finally have something other than Nescafe!

We had a great time touring around Lome and we very quickly identified what a different vibe this former French colony has from Ghana (a former British colony). It is well documented that the French left a lot more cultural influence behind in their former colonies than the Brits, and most French African countries generally still have a lot of French investment and business activity within. In Lome we could find all kinds of imports we had all been deprived of for months. We even treated ourselves to real wood-fired pizzas and barbecued chicken (not the African chicken that has no meat). Nicole and I frequented the central market, looking for deals and admiring all the different cloth.

We spent New Years Eve with another German girl and her Togolese friend. We started off with a cheap and delicious dinner of barbecued chicken and couscous followed by a fan-milk frozen yogurt. Then we headed back to the hotel and listened to the live band for awhile. All of a sudden we realized midnight was soon approaching, so we hurried to flag down some cabs and headed down to the city centre. We hopped out at a busy street corner near a couple of bars, popped our champagne, and did our own count-down. The street was packed with people and fireworks blasted everywhere, many of them exploding on the side walk and before ever making it into the air. Taxis and vehicles honked loudly as they tried to make their way down the streets that had been overcome by New Year’s partiers. We made our way into a local "box" (means a dancing club) which I still marvel at because it was so incredibly packed, I’m not even sure how we fit in there. But we were the only foreigners so we attracted a lot of attention and soon found ourselves completely surrounded as we began to dance to the pumping music. Very quickly we were all absolutely drenched in sweat and were clearly losing the “personal space” battle, as guys continued to elbow their way into the circle we had tried to create. All of a sudden a small foreign man beside me yanked my arm and yelled that the guy who had just been dancing in front of me just stole something from my bag. I looked down and saw that indeed, the bag I had slung around my shoulder was now wide open, zipper undone. All of a sudden, it felt like I was sinking- I was no longer in this crazy, once in a lifetime New Years party, I was now stuck- surrounded wall to wall with people, unable to escape easily and unsure of what someone had just scoffed out of my bag. I tried to dig around to find my camera and my cell phone but it was too crowded to properly search and I didn’t want to draw any attention to what I was carrying. I grabbed one of my friends and made them come out of the bar with me so that I could explain what happened and try to find out what had been stolen. Upon reaching the street again, I couldn’t really find what was missing- I had purposely carried as little as possible in the bag. The only thing I couldn’t find were my ipod earphones which I assumed is what he took, thinking that there was actually an ipod on the other end. My sense of security was out the window and I wanted to move on to a new spot. Our Togolese friend had indicated we shouldn’t leave this part of the street, so we knew that we weren’t really in a safe place. It took awhile for us to regroup outside of the bar, but we all agreed it was time to move on. We cabbed down to the Las Palms Hotel where we joined another party that had a completely different scene- much more elite and much more secure. New Years in Togo was definitely an adventure!!
Before leaving Togo we did a two-day trip to Kpalime, where we hiked Togo’s tallest mountain (deceiving because it’s actually only about 950m). It was a beautiful hike and we were fascinated to find avocado trees, cocoa trees, wild pineapple and many other interesting plants along the way. We also stumbled upon a couple of small villages built into the mountain that were quite different from the mud hut villages we are used to in Ghana. The descent down the mountain didn’t go quite as planned. We took well over the 4 recommended hours to reach the top of the mountain and we had now created a nearly impossible timeline to reach the bottom and catch the tro-tro back to Lome. We took the road down the mountain to make it easier on our knees, but within about 30 minutes we realized we were making very little progress. Finally, we spotted a couple of cars whizzing down the road and managed to get the second one to stop. It was Dutch family and the car was pretty packed already, but they offered to let Nicole and I hitch a ride. They said the guys could fit in the car at the front, which we would catch up to soon since they were travelling together. We paid off the two small boys that we’d hired to tour us up the mountain and awkwardly explained that we had to go, then squished Victor and Morgan into the vehicle up ahead.

From Kpalime we headed back to Lome, stayed there overnight and then crossed the border back into Afloa. It was another hectic scene of tro-tros and taxis grabbing at us, and my patience got the best of me when a guy grabbed my bag and started to try to hoist it off my shoulders. I spun around and yelled “DON’T!” several times as I shook my finger at him and scowled. He looked quite surprised and I realized I had unintentionally become “the crazy white lady” as a few women nearby started pointing and giggling. Nicole and I split from the guys at this point and headed back towards Kumasi while the Morgan and Victor decided to extend their holiday and make their way to another beach resort nearby. (Girls are always the responsible ones, haha).

Nicole and I’s journey to Kumasi was one of those times where you wake up in the morning and have to try to figure out whether it did really happen, or whether you were just having crazy dreams induced by the malaria pills. I’ll try really hard to condense this wild journey:

We bought our tickets for the Metro bus line (similar to Grey Hound) and had a couple hours to spare before leaving to Kumasi so we roamed the streets and tried all the different foods. (Mistake number one- don’t eat sketchy street food before beginning a 8+ hour bus trip). We went back to the bus to find that HUGE burlap sacks of flip flops were being jammed through the back doors of the bus (taking 3 guys to lift them because they were so heavy), and stored right behind the seats we had claimed. One after another of theses sacks were forced through the doors and piled to the roof of the back section of the bus. Some of the guys giggled as they saw our obvious concern for our spots that were getting more and more threatened by these enormous sacks. When it was clear that no more of these sacks could be jammed behind our seats, they proceeded to stuff suitcases among the gaps between them and then happily let us board the bus. We were still able to fit into our seats, but we now had the rather disconcerting thought of what would happen if we hit a big bump and one of the sacks fell on us. Things proceeded without incident until a pit stop about 3 hours later at which point I realized that the street food I tried in Afloa was not sitting too well. Two hours later, as we inched through Accra’s traffic jams, my stomach was doing flip-flops again. It was now nearly 8pm so I tried to close my eyes and force myself to ignore it and fall asleep. But my stomach couldn’t be fooled so I had to make the walk of shame to the front of the bus and plead the driver to find a pit stop as soon as possible. He tried to pull into a Shell station but the traffic was too heavy and he couldn’t make the turn. So instead, he stopped a few kilometers later in front of the Police Station and led me into the main office, proceeding to explain the problem to the men at the front desk in local dialect. They brought the cleaning lady to me and directed her to take me to a toilet. She took me to someone’s house behind the police station and asked if I could use their facility. The woman said yes, but then came back to tell us that unfortunately, her husband took the key to the toilet with him to work and he wouldn’t be back for a while. I couldn’t believe this-it was so absolutely hilarious, but it was too painful to laugh. Then the woman took me down to the “public toilet” which was a pitch dark cement structure and jammed a pack of matches in my hand. With each match stroke I barely had time to make out my surroundings but it appeared that I was in a small room with a row of squatter stalls. She recommended I try the last one because it was “better”…and I stumbled around trying to make my way before each match went out.

Our troubles were not over after the episode at the police station. The road from Accra to Kumasi was under construction and big chunks of it had been torn up. The bus bounced along it, jarring and swerving in the bad spots. This unstable movement became too much for the load crammed behind Nicole and I, and suddenly a plastic suitcase came toppling from the roof of the bus and landed on our heads, rudely awakening us from our sleep, and most likely the others near us because of the yelp I let out. A few guys nearby jammed the suitcase back up and I tried to fall back asleep, but soon the bus had come to a complete stop. We idled for about 15 minutes while people stood up and tried to see what was going on. We were in some sort of major traffic jam- buses and trucks were lined up as far as we could see. Finally, someone informed us there was an accident ahead. It was nearly half an hour before we were moving again, and at least another 20 minutes before we escaped the back to back traffic of the jammed up vehicles. “The accident” turned out to be a rolled petro truck that now lay engulfed in flames at the side of the road (a rather frightening scene).

We arrived in Kumasi at about 2am, nearly five hours later than we had expected. We flagged a cab, went back to the same guest lodge as before, but just as I was unloading my bag I realized only one shoe was in the bungy cord on my bag-the other must have fallen off in the boot of the bus. I jumped back in the cab and asked the driver to take me back to the bus as quickly as possible. He roared down the street and then we approached the one-way leading to the station, he started reversing all the way there, claiming there wasn’t time to take the other road. We were almost there and I saw the bus begin to leave the station, so I ordered the cab driver to stop, hopped out of the cab, and proceeded to run after the bus screaming “Stop! Stop!”. I think I woke up every homeless person in the street, but the bus driver did hear me and pulled over. He grinned when he saw me and led me to the boot of the bus where he pulled out my shoe. I returned to the guest lodge fell into my bunk bed, and like I said, when I woke, I really wasn’t sure whether it all really happened or whether my Malerone was to blame.

The last day of our holiday was relaxing and enjoyable. We took in the famous central market of Kumasi which is the size of a small village, and enjoyed some delicious East Indian cuisine at an expat restaurant called Vicky’s Bamboo Café. We returned home safely to Tamale via the STC bus on Sunday, Jan. 5th, loaded with new cloth, African crafts and plenty of stories to share!

Christmas Vacation Part 3 of 4- Cape Coast and Kakum

Cape Coast was like a bigger, more commercialized form of Elmina. It was the first capital of Britain’s Gold Coast colony back in the day and the abundance of colonial style buildings attests to this. Cape Coast had a really wonderful vibe of a big, bustling city crossed with a beach town. We often ate our meals on the streets, trying different foods from the street vendors and site seeing as we went along. Nicole and I discovered some delicious fried coconut balls and Morgan was a big fan of the octopus you could buy ridiculously cheap and take away in a “rubber” (black plastic bags they put everything in). Cape Coast also has a slave castle which initially was a fort built by the Sweeds and later was renovated by the Brits first for trading goods, then for the trans-Atlantic slave trade. The Brandt book notes that at any given time in the 18th Century there would have been up to 1500 captured individuals awaiting shipment in the dungeons. The tour of this castle was interesting, though equally dismal to the tour of Elmina’s Castle, and there was a museum attached that provided a very educational overview of the history of the slave trade and the how the culture of African Diaspora in the Americas has evolved.

During our stay at Cape Coast we were also able to make a day trip to Kakum National Park, the largest protected rainforest habitat in Ghana. Kakum features an extensive suspended bridge system that allows you to walk along above the tree line of the rainforest. It was a pretty amazing view up there and despite my fear of heights, I didn’t have much trouble on the narrow rope and wood bridges. Our group was a little too loud to for many wildlife sightings, but we found a phenomenally large spider on one of the ebony trees when we were hiking back. Cole, you missed out!! On the way home from the park we stopped for lunch at Hans Cottage Botel, a very unique restaurant and hotel near the park. The Botel was all done up in Christmas decorations and we were treated to familiar Christmas carols for the first time during the trip. The most exciting part was the small lake and mote system built around the restaurant that had about 10 crocodiles residing in its waters. A small girl near us was leaning over the bridge calling to us whenever she spotted one.

After our last night in Cape Coast we made our way to Accra and were faced with decision time- should we go for broke and try to make it to Lome, Togo for New Years, or settle for a beach resort near Accra?

To be continued…

Christmas Vacation Part 2 of 4-Elmina & St.George's Castle

**Note: My friend Morgan is an incredible photographer so I'll direct you to his blog to check out the scenes I've described in the blog below. His address is: http://thefatbuddha.blogspot.com/

We had incredible luck getting out of Butrea. Victor had made friends with a taxi driver so we arranged to be picked up early in the morning and dropped off at the tro-tro pick-up heading to Elmina. (I got really used to travelling in tro-tros during the trip-the experience can be compared to travelling in a sardine can without any shocks. Come to think of it, those vans are so beat up they probably aren’t much thicker than a sardine can. Haha)

We arrived in Elmina in time for breakfast and took our Nescafe at a neat restaurant that had a great view of the bustling lagoon with its colourful pirogues, painted red turquoise and yellow, flying sails made of flour sacks sewn together. We all watched the hustle and bustle on the docks with fascination- small girls balanced tin platters on their heads piled with oranges or buckets filled with pure water; women swiftly strode by carrying metal bowls on their heads filled with various kinds of fish and sea creatures, while others had wooden boxes on their heads with glass walls that displayed African pastries or fried dough. Men carried equipment down to the boats and some just moved with the crowd, stopping to buy something from the “petty traders” or to chat with a friend. Overlooking this whole scene from the grassy hill across from us was St.George’s Castle- the oldest European structure in West Africa. The castle was first built by the Portuguese and later overtaken by the Dutch. It was originally a post for gold trading and later became a slave trading post where hundreds of African people were imprisoned before being loaded onto ships headed for the Americas.

After breakfast we went on a tour of St. George’s Castle-a disturbing but educating experience. Our guide shared some of the history of the building with us as he led us into the male and female dungeons, through the main court complete with a church, up into the bedroom and sitting room of the governor, and down to the door of no return- where those imprisoned took their last steps on African soil before being crammed into the slave chambers of the ships awaiting them. It was a sobering experience and as we left the guide made sure to point out the following sign:

"In Ever Lasting Memory

Of the Anguish of our ancestors

May those you died rest in peace

May those who return find their roots

May humanity never again perpetrate

Such injustice against humanity

We, the living, vow to uphold this"

After the castle we headed down to the shores to check out the central market. The scene here was much like that of the docks by the lagoon, only more intense because of the greater area. I enjoyed looking into everyone’s bowls to see all the different fish and sea creatures. The market was crowded and loud with the strong scent of fish amidst the salty sea air. We ducked into a local drinking spot where we were able to watch a bunch of fishermen working amongst a big cluster of pirogues pulled up on the sand. Some were repairing their nets, some were sewing new ones, and some were fixing sails. Children ran all amongst the boats, and we caught a great shot of a small boy soaping up for his morning bath.

We spent the afternoon wondering about the main streets of Elmina and hiking up to a Catholic Church on a big hill where we could see the whole town. The Brandt Book explains Elmina best when it describes the paradox you see in town which has a mood so inherently African, but an urban landscape that has been molded almost entirely by exotic influences. It’s intriguing to see how the old colonial houses and European structures have been adopted and morphed into various living accommodations and businesses within this fishing town.

Late that afternoon we caught another tro-tro and continued on to Cape Coast….TBC

Christmas Vacation Part 1- “The Hideout”, our Rasta Christmas on Butrea Beach

Our Christmas vacation officially started on Friday, Dec.21st. Morgan, Nicole, Trevor and I met at the STC Bus Station in Tamale to begin our journey, first to Kumasi (in the Central Region of Ghana) and then on to our selected Christmas location- Ellis’ Hideout, located on the luscious southern coast. True to Ghanaian standards, the bus arrived two hours late and we were finally on our way at approx. 6:30pm. At around one in the morning we arrived at the Kumasi station and stumbled to a guest lodge just around the corner for a few hours of sleep until our next leg. The alarm at 6am came a little too soon, but we grabbed our backpacks, forewent the shower and were off again, taking the next STC bus to Takoradi. From there we took a tro-tro to a small town nearby and then jumped into a taxi where we headed down a very long, meandering dirt road towards Butrea Beach. With each hill our anticipation rose as we waited to see this place Morgan had booked us at, hoping our trusty Lonely Planet hadn’t failed us. We followed the signs and veered onto something that we could hardly believe was a road, snuggled between thick trees on the left and a sloped plateau on the right. Finally our little oasis was revealed to us and it was perfect-small and low key, hidden amongst the palm trees were a number of clay coloured huts and a small restaurant with a beautiful beach front view. We were in our bathing suits in no time, hot from the long trek and SO excited to see the clear, blue ocean water crashing up against the spotless white sand of Butrea Beach. It was hard to believe we were still in Ghana…this was a far cry from our Tamale that had slowly become more and more parched as the harmattan took it’s hold.

We stayed at The Hideout until December 27th and I must say, it was truly the most unique Christmas I’ve had. Our Christmas Eve dinner was incredible-a large red snapper, cooked fresh over the grill and enjoyed in our thatch roofed gazebo, under a bright, clear sky. After dinner we joined the other guests down on the beach for a big bonfire. A bunch of Rastas from the area had come to hang out and serenade us with traditional West African drums and percussion. They are so talented at creating different beats and bringing all the different instruments together into one medley! I especially appreciated this talent after I tried one of the drums and found that I was terrible-I couldn’t even have a conversation while I had that drum because it seemed to take so much effort trying to keep the rhythm. I tried one of the big wooden xylophones as well (the kind we used to love at school Cars) but this one took a lot of concentration too, and I was soon demoted to a rattle. Haha It was so surreal to be hanging out in bare feet and listen to Rasta tunes against the crashing ocean on a holiday that had in all my experience, meant snow and Christmas carols.

On Christmas morning I ordered banana pancakes (just like the Jack Johnson song ; ) and handed out the Turtles the fam sent me for Christmas (surprisingly they were still intact and I resisted the urge to horde them to myself : ). Morgan had wrapped African necklaces up as a gift so that we could all unwrap something, and then we spent a great day in the sun and sand (with a couple of naps in the hammocks).

Our last day at The Hideout was spent on a local “cruise”- our good friend Tony, donned in a bright orange lifejacket complete with a whistle, took us out in a rugged, traditional canoe onto the lagoon to see the mongrove trees and try to spot some monkeys or a crocodile. Tony had a great sense of humor and when we were about halfway through the tour he yelled out “Hello Monkeys…where are you!”. Unfortunately, they were not tempted by his greeting and we didn’t spot any monkeys, but the mongrove trees were fascinating. Each tree seemed to have several skinny trunks shooting up from its roots and then bowing down upon the lagoon with hundreds of slim branches. They grow so close to one another that it becomes this impossible maze that one would only be able to get through with the aggressive use of a machete.

From Butrea we backtracked East to Elmina and on to Cape Coast….TO BE CONT.

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.