GhanaBryn

My Christmas Wish

2008-12-09T23:51:00.001-04:00

It's a few years later, but I couldn't help but feeling like anyone checking back in on this blog would understand my reasoning here. Because after thinking that there wasn't really anything I wanted for Christmas, I decided that the best way to celebrate the holidays was to give something back to people who really need it. I'm asking you to help me raise money for Engineers Without Borders.

My page is at http://www.giftofopportunity.ca/Bryn

There you can see what's on my holiday wish list, and if you support any or all of my wishes, please contribute what you can. 30% of your donation will go to the UNB chapter (where my involvement with EWB began and where I was given the opportunity to work in Ghana), and 70% will go to the national programs, which coordinate Canadian engagement and implement real, effective projects on the ground in Africa. Less than 10% of the organisation's funds go to overhead and all money fundraised is taken very seriously -- I know that with my entry level job in Saint John, I'm already making more money than either of EWB's CEOs (and they live in downtown Toronto)!

I've set a personal goal to raise $1000.00, which is really ambitious, but I hope can be made through a wide variety of small donations; even just $5, $10. Every little bit counts, and from my experience with EWB in Ghana, even just small amounts of money as inputs for farmers can catalyze great change.

Your donations can be anonymous if you want, and as a registered charity your gifts can be given charitable receipts. If you have any questions at all, please don't hesitate to ask. As you probably all know, EWB and the farmers I met in Ghana are dear to my heart, and nothing could be a better gift for me this year than to invest in them and the work they are doing.

Take care,
Bryn

Welcome!

2007-02-05T21:20:00.000-04:00

Hello everyone!

It has been just over 5 months since I returned and I recognize that the blog may be difficult to navigate. Not all of my entries show up on the main page, though they're all accessible through the monthly archive links (they're down a little bit on the right hand side of the screen).
I thought that I would link to some of the entries that many people found the most engaging or interesting, I think that they offer interesting glimpses into my experiences this past summer:

A reflection on cultural differences after my first month in Ghana.
My reaction after Ghana's first World Cup victory
Some personal struggles (guilt)
Some photos of a food aid delivery
One of the days that I went farming!

If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or requests don't hesitate to email me at bryn.ferris [at] gmail.com

Enjoy!

Bless This Mess

2006-08-20T06:54:00.000-03:00

Men yell directions in tongues I don’t know
While the women sell the world on their head
The children could be unhappy without fancy toys
But they fashion their own instead

White World Vision trucks drive past
Clean and shimmering in the light
Nearby a rusting lorry carcass
Provides a contrasting sight

“Nansaalah!” screams a nearby child
As I smile through water sachet
Goats fight atop a nearby mound
Each hoping to rule the day

The scent of eggs frying two stalls down
Reminds that I still need to eat
Meanwhile the kids playing football
Forget they have only bare feet

Ahead the women are pounding fufu
Sleeping babies slung to their backs
Open-palmed beggars stumble forward
Pleading for what they lack

A young man seats himself down beside
And invites to join in his feast
I’m left to ponder over roasted nuts
How the most generous have the least

Across is an entrepreneurial boy
On whose scale we can each weigh
He records the results on pieces of scrap
And asks a small fee to pay

In the distance the mosque calls for prayers
While “Matthew 10:12” drives by
Past open sewers and broken buildings
A sunset graces the sky

And as darkness descends on the town
The chaos still functions nearby
I’m left to lie back on the wooden bench
And breathe a contented sigh

For all the insanity this land brings
There’s an eternal calm with the pride
Provided that in your football match
The second goal is not offside

Regardless of how it may have seemed
Four months is simply too short
To enjoy a land so peaceful and free
And completely obsessed with a sport

Soon I will leave this life behind
Board the plane for the Promised Land
And hope to myself on the long flights back
That the projects are going as planned

But no matter how hard this has all seemed
The challenge is in my return
To cope with the lifestyle I’ve always lived
The society that needs to learn

Forever holding a piece of my heart
This place is so quiet and blessed
A hell of a summer I’ll never forget

Ghana

; bless this mess

Party!

2006-08-18T07:16:00.000-03:00

An entry about Bryn’s send off party that he doesn’t have enough time to properly write, featuring:

A meal prepared by the Nansaalahs.

A planned hockey game with bedposts that didn’t quite work out.

The incredibly cute son my RAAP’s director in his own tiny traditional smock.

A delicious goat and chicken.

A reversal of gender roles, with the men preparing supper.

And not finding it easy.

Two traditional dance groups.

The white guy attempting to dance.

Some beautiful Ghanaian gifts.

Some Canadian love and appreciation.

And a picture I took in Wa that is so awesome that it needs to be included in the blog, regardless of how irrelevant it is..

Farming

2006-08-02T07:12:00.000-03:00

I hardly had time to finish breakfast this morning when suddenly a pickup truck with some 20some people crammed on board rolls up in front of my house. Most of the passengers are from Hain; their clothes are much more ragged than usual and they all have hand hoes slung over the shoulder. In the driver seat is Evans, RAAP’s director, who is sporting the biggest grin I’ve ever seen and screaming “we’re going farming!”
I quickly grab a hat and hop on the back, somehow finding a place to sit among the mass of bodies (who are, incidentally, all laughing at the fact that the white guy is going to try to farm). After exchanging greetings the conversation immediately goes to a level of Dagaare I can’t quite follow so I’m left to retreat into my head and admire the scenery as Evans blazes down the dirt road at a speed that can only be described as “unsafe.”

After a few kilometres (and several additional passengers) we turn off of the main road and head off into the bush. The ride immediately gets a lot rougher; everyone in the back grabs onto someone across from them, creating an interesting yet effective web that prevents us all from being flung from the truck. Occasionally I glance forward to see where we were going; I literally can’t see the ‘road’ that we’re driving along. The path seems to be nothing more than a series of bushes and rocks that are slightly smaller and lower than those on either side of the trail. I am a little uneasy about this, but no-one else seems to mind.
Eventually we reach our destination: a couple straw huts and a few dozen acres of maize and groundnuts. We all jump off the back and join a few dozen more farmers who are already marching off towards the groundnut field. The women stay back at the huts and begin preparing the massive amount of food and drink that will be needed in a couple hours. Off to my right I notice a line of women heading towards the huts carrying massive containers of water on the head. I’m told the stream they’re coming from is at least 3 kilometres away.

As seems to be the case with all Ghanaians, the farmers are invariably in a good mood throughout the walk. Off to the left I can see another group making their way to the same farm. Meanwhile many more farmers go shooting past us on either side, completely unfazed by the fact that they are riding over grass on rickety old bicycles that have no brakes. Ahead one of the men starts a chant that I can only describe as a Dagaare alternative to the Seven Dwarfs’ favourite song.

We arrive at the field to see that fifty or so farmers have already started to weed. Spread out over several acres, they look as if they are farming at random in all directions. Every minute or so someone starts shouting a random half-song, which is only sometimes answered. I could never quite make out what they were saying and for some reason I never bothered to ask. Whatever it was, it seemed to keep everyone in good spirits, which I imagine was the point.
While we are walking to the far corner of the plot Evans explains to me that all this land is owned by a local man named Moses. Several years ago Moses helped Evans’ family farm their land and so now he is trying to repay the favour; most of RAAP has come out to spend the day weeding. All told, over 100 people from all the neighbouring villages have come together with the hope that together they can finish all of Moses’ thirty plus acres of land by the end of the day.

Upon reaching our section of land I discover that the farming is not as random as it first seemed; the entire process is coordinated by a few farmers who mark out “contracts” for which each farmer is responsible. Once he is done his area the farmer is free to either help others or rest until everyone has finished their respective sections. Not only does this ensure that everyone does a comparable amount of work, but it also makes many people work faster since they see it as a race to finish their contract before the farmer next to them does.
In less than an hour we finish up the first field, which looked to be just over three acres. Everyone then fans out and works his way back towards the cooking hut, weeding anything that gets in his way. Before noon hits we’re done another six or more acres, finishing all of the groundnut fields. At this point I’m beginning to feel a little more than exhausted (everyone else seems just as energetic as when they started). Much to my relief, I discover that we get a brief break before moving on to the maize fields.

As the women serve everyone drinks before lunch I’m reminded at just how well religions mix here. The farmers divide into two groups, with the predominantly Christian group taking pito, the local alcoholic drink, and the predominantly Muslim group taking a mix of water and ground vegetables. Everyone then reassembles and breaks into a series of smaller groups, where giant tubs of beans and rice are served and quickly devoured. The meal ends at 1pm and all the Christian farmers relax for a few minutes while their Muslim counterparts begin their prayers.
Once the prayers finish everyone assembles again, throwing their hoes into the middle of the circle. Several of the leaders then rearrange the hoes into three piles that represent the three different maize fields that we are to finish by the end of the day. Though I spent years picking road hockey teams in a similar fashion, I’m baffled by the process because, unlike our hockey sticks with varying colours and brands, every one of the 100+ hoes is the same model of unpainted wood. My questions and worries are met with laughs and stares; every farmer knows exactly which hoe is his and finds it without hesitation.

We break off and, for the first time, I am given my own contract. Sort of. I work as hard and fast as I can, but I can’t help but notice that my section is getting done a great deal slower than everyone else’s, despite the fact that the farmers around me often farm a little bit into my section. This doesn’t come as a surprise, mind you, but it is rather frustrating since I am working at a furious pace and am becoming completely exhausted; a nice reminder that I can’t possibly understand (much less perform) the amount of physical labour the average villager has to do for their daily food.

I should mention, if you haven’t already noticed in the photographs, that the day was overcast and very cool by

Ghana

’s standards. I am very, very grateful for this. Though the clouds made my hat mostly useless, they saved me from the agony of working under a harsh equatorial sun. (I should also point out that a dozen or so farmers were wearing toques for most of the day, which was more than a little amusing to me.)

By about 2:30 we finish up our maize field, only to find that another group, who had much rockier ground to work through, isn’t quite half done theirs. We immediately rush over and help them complete the remainder of their field in an amazingly short period of time; a few acres can’t stand up to a hundred farmers who are determined to finish and go home.
As the last sections were being completed I walk over to Evans and Emmanuel, another RAAP employee, who were discussing their thoughts on the day. As I was approaching I could overhear Emmanuel saying “the unity alone is enough to make me happy.” I couldn’t agree more; there was a good natured, optimistic atmosphere that made the huge amount of work bearable. The sense of community and camaraderie was almost overwhelming and never once faltered throughout the whole day.

Once our work finished everyone crammed onto trucks and bicycles and raced home to get cleaned up before the sun set. (The bucket showers were certainly needed!) After we washed we re-convened in the evening, where four goats were killed in our honour. The village elders thanked us all for our work, and the day finished with a huge feast around a roaring fire, with plenty of songs, drinks and dances. By the time I got home the moon was already high in the sky and my body felt like it was going to fall apart before I could drag it to its bed. I made it, though, and as I crawled under my mosquito net I collapsed on the mattress and thanked my lucky stars that this was only a one day affair; I definitely don’t have enough strength left in me to do it all over again tomorrow.

Unfortunately, the other hundred some farmers aren’t so lucky.

Food Aid

2006-07-26T19:05:00.000-03:00

I’m finally back in front of a computer screen; I spent the past week in the remote farming village of Zingpen, farming and generally trying to mimic a rural farmer’s life the best I could. I’m not sure that I succeeded as a farmer, but I can confidently say that I learned and saw more in that single week than I have in most of my placement. There's so much that happened that it's hard to know what to write about.

The one moment I'll definitely never forget was when I had the great fortune of witnessing the arrival of the infamous US Food Aid.
Each term the Catholic Relief Services and USAID supply the village’s primary school with two metric tons of imported US Sorghum to help feed the students at lunches.This food takes a lot of pressures off of the families; since the kids are in school they can’t help their families farm, and so a reliable source of food is essential.

This community is completely made up of farmers—even the teachers go farm once their classes end.

They are good farmers too, especially given what inputs and conditions they have to work with. Yet they’re seemingly caught in perpetual poverty. Throughout the week my probing about the farmer’s difficulties almost always resulted in the same answer: lack of market access.How much money does it cost to ship two metric tons of food from North America to the middle of nowhere in the upper corner of Ghana?

Would the money be better spent buying the abundant (and slowly rotting) crops of local farmers, instead of just dumping our produce on villages?

I don’t have the answers; just scattered thoughts.

What do you think?

One Month Left

2006-07-18T06:58:00.000-03:00

With only a month left this placement has suddenly gone from unbearably long to ridiculously short. My return to Hain has been really great for my spirits, and I’ve been able to eat and drink much more enjoyably this time around. I’m realizing that there are a lot of people and little things that I will really miss about this place when I leave. This will undoubtedly make for a bittersweet last month; I’m very excited to return home and see everyone but the fact that I will never again be here or see these people again is slowly starting to sink in.

In other news I’m leaving for another village, Zingpen, to go farm for a week. The plan is to spend the week living “exactly” like (as close as possible) a farmer in the village. I’ve told them I don’t want any special treatment with foods, beds, or workload; I’m sure my requests will largely be ignored but I’m going to try and emulate their lifestyle as much as possible. I approached my NGO with the idea a few weeks ago, but now that the time has drawn near I’m both excited and terrified to go. There are so many doubts I have about my health, strength, the food and water, whether I will behave appropriately… On the flipside, though, it goes without saying that I will learn a hell of a lot and likely develop a true appreciation for the lives of rural farmers. I’ll try to journal on paper while in the village, but I don’t know how privacy or time will work, so I may never get the chance to write out my thoughts. We’ll see I guess….

The Big Man

2006-07-14T10:24:00.000-03:00

Thanks to a few surprising (and fast) responses and requests, I've decided to post a letter I sent home to the chapter a few days ago. Enjoy!

There is a culture and an attitude here that often sends me into rants with fellow volunteers; I call this phenomenon that of the “Big Man.”

The culture of the “Big Man” stands in the way of development. It is a culture of arrogance, greed, and cronyism; in the States they call it the “Good Ol’ Boys Club.” This culture is the fertile ground for corruption and can no doubt be traced back to the Colonial days and the slave trade. From village leaders to classroom teachers, those in power believe that they are absolute authority and that questioning them is near treasonous. Likely strengthened or driven by a huge unemployment rate, they punish their underlings with no regard for justice or reason; punishment is simply a reminder of the balance of powers to all those involved.

Obviously, this attitude, which dominates almost all facets of Ghanaian life, retards the development of Ghana’s marginalized and vulnerable people. In order to run activities with the “lowest” on the chain you need to first run plans through the appropriate hierarchical structure. The plan you began with, however good it may be, is never the plan you finish with since you have to appease so many levels in between. Furthermore, this bureaucratic nightmare limits communication with those who need the most help, dooming most projects to failure since the people’s needs are not fully known or understood. As history has shown, those in power are not great at identifying ways to help those which they have oppressed.

In Ghana’s development sector many NGOs are actively working to encourage gender equality and equal opportunity across all facets of life. In achieving this, one of the main goals is to help develop and promote women leaders. While being an admirable goal, this is wholly ineffective—replace the Big Men with Big Women and not much will change. The importance lies in challenging the Big Man culture itself; in creating a system that can promote leaders who lead by compassion, encouragement, and care. Only through these leaders can gender equity and equal opportunity become a reality.

Across the country there is an unbelievably strong attitude that educating ones children is the most important thing a parent can do. While I find this attitude remarkable and extremely admirable, it may be prove to be destructive if there is not a close examination of the quality and atmosphere of that education. Ghanaians need to challenge the disciplinarian aspects of schooling, from blind obedience to caning. In the current system creativity is routinely stifled since it usually doesn’t fit within the rigid curriculum of the schools. But the fact is that no good comes from forcing the students to accept discipline unflinchingly. Children need to be offered a better way of relating to authority. Open learning exchanges inspire critical thought; compassionate interactions will create conscientious and humble leaders.

Thankfully, the NGO that Engineers Without Borders Canada placed me with realizes this. The Rural Aid Action Programme (RAAP), founded and staffed by local Ghanaians, has a culture that directly clashes with that of the “Big Man.” Regardless of positions within the organization, everyone refers to each other by their first names—a huge deal in a country where all people referred to in the third person are “Madame” or “Sir.” All RAAP workshops and meetings conclude with critical feedback for the facilitator and everything they do is viewed as a “learning opportunity.” In our last staff meeting our director told us all that “if you are too big to be criticized you are equally too small to be praised,” which I found particularly poignant. Slowly but surely RAAP is challenging and changing the attitudes of villagers and educators, creating an environment in which real, meaningful progress can be made.

Admittedly, shifting Ghana’s culture from that of the “Big Man” to that which RAAP endorses will be a very lengthy process that requires a lot of investment, care, and critical thought. However, it is an essential shift needed for Ghana’s continued development; while the speed of the process may not make it feel as rewarding as building a treadle pump for a village, the investment will produce much greater results. The process will be slow in the beginning, but as each person influences those around them, showing them the importance of open, compassionate interactions, the number of people involved will grow exponentially. In time, the shift will begin to take hold across the country, with local champions existing in all facets of life. When this happens Ghana will have won; no Big Man can withstand the strength of an entire nation.

Where is the Love?

2006-07-03T18:00:00.000-03:00

Tonight I had one of the moments I was told to expect. Jude and I were walking through Hain waiting for our TZ (edible millet-based PlayDoh) to be ready. We were stepping over muddy patches on the winding dirt path through the houses; a series of mud and straw huts to our left, remains of a mud-brick house surrounding a crop field to the right. It was almost pitch black since none of the houses around us could afford the electricity offered by the nearby power lines, but even through the darkness I could make out the unmistakable shape of a child rolling an old tire with a stick further down the path. Jude was telling stories and laughing about how life was great and, despite the ‘terrible’ conditions I saw, everyone we passed was invariably in a good mood as they gathered around their fires and rested after the day’s work. I was just considering to myself how cliché of a Hollywood scene it all was when suddenly the Black Eyed Peas’ “Where Is the Love?” came booming through the night from a (very nice) speaker system in one of the houses near the main road.

Now it wasn’t that the sound was unfamiliar or necessarily bad; and certainly no-one around me seemed to notice the music (except Jude, who sang along with me with a mock falsetto that rivals my own). But even while goofing around I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong with this picture. The village is so rich with tradition and the musical culture is such a fundamental part of everyone’s lives.
I mean, I always question the development work we’re doing; I think it’s necessary to constantly be doing so. And yes, sometimes overanalyzing means that I can get worked up over perfectly harmless things. But, as I was warned by former volunteers, there are those moments that just feel unmistakable; those times when you realize that something is going terribly awry in this noble pursuit of justice. And I’m sure that it’s a moment that I won’t ever forget.

What purpose does this all serve? Yes, these people suffer from a lot of disease, malnutrition, and chronic unemployment. Yes, they are actively looking for ways to better the conditions they live in. Yes their complete lack of infrastructure is the result of centuries of oppression by white colonials. And yes we should try to help them, whether driven by good intentions or simple “white guilt.”

But how is this type of development helping to alleviate these oppressive conditions? Pop music hardly cures sickness, and it certainly doesn’t put food on their table. It does, however, undermine the local culture only to promote a more empty and glamorous one. How much culture are we going to bulldoze until we feel these communities are ‘developed’ enough?

Sickness = Suck

2006-07-03T08:57:00.000-03:00

After my ‘New Beginning’ update I spent almost two weeks doing various things that resulted in me not writing, save for after World Cup games. It was a nice and needed break. Then, after finally deciding I had taken enough quiet time to be content, I started writing an entry only to end it less than 50 words later to run off for what was to be the first of a long sequence of trips to the washroom. I’ll spare everyone the details, but I can confidently say it’s the sickest I have ever felt and the hellishness of those few days didn’t lend well to journaling my thoughts. I’m fairly sure that it wasn’t malaria, though, as I recovered without using anti-malarials and didn’t have the trademark chills (however, I did have the trademark “I just want to die” feeling...). I guess that will teach me for getting careless about what street meat I eat!

In a brilliant proof of Murphy’s Law, my puking in open sewers was closely followed by my cellphone dieing on the night of June 30th. For the past few days I hadn’t been able to get it charged and working again, so if anybody called or text-messaged me, particularly on Canada Day, I didn’t get anything. Sorry!

Ghana vs Brazil

2006-06-27T12:54:00.000-03:00

I dare you to ask a Ghanaian if that second goal was offside...

Ghana 2, USA 1

2006-06-23T11:28:00.001-03:00

You know, after that last entry I honestly thought things couldn’t possibly get any crazier here.... And then yesterday Ghana beat the USA 2-1, making it the first and only African team to advance to the second round.

I’m not going to lie and say there weren’t tears welling in my eyes as the final whistle sounded and the broadcast became dubbed over by the theme song (which was, of course, mostly drowned out by the shouts and cheers of everyone around me). What a moment! Everyone is bouncing off the walls and has been since yesterday; it seems no-one has stopped smiling or laughing since the final whistle blew. This means so much for every Ghanaian and the hope this country has for its team is almost overwhelming.

I also got a shirt made from a local guy. Pretty cool, eh? I asked him to mimic the Black Stars’ uniforms and am really impressed with how it turned out… Stephen Appiah is the Ghanaian team captain and is an absolute workhorse out there in midfield. He also scored the winning goal today over the #5 ranked team in the world! So far the shirt has been overwhelmingly well received; and the shouts of “nansaalah!” have been replaced with “Appiah! Appiah!!”—a welcome change. The shirt has had the added bonus of ensuring that I won’t hear from fans like the one I mentioned in the last entry, since everyone now is 100% sure what side I support.

Right now I’m writing this at our NGO’s office. The local cell-phone provider, ONETouch, has given everyone unlimited free calls until 12noon in celebration of the Black Stars’ victory. The result is that everyone in the office has been on the phone all morning calling everyone on their contact list. All the other EWB volunteers use another network called Areeba, though, so I don’t really have anyone else to call…. Meanwhile I just glanced down to see a stack of Daily Graphic newspapers from over the past week; 6 of the 7 papers’ front pages are exclusively about the Black Stars.

(I left the picture of the papers back home in Hain, so will add it next time I’m in a city.)

So after beating the #2 and #5 ranked teams in consecutive games, Ghana must play Brazil, the #1 ranked team in the world. Not exactly an easy schedule. You think everyone here would be worried that the odds are against them. But, yet again, everyone I’ve talked to is quick to point out that Ghana’s under 17 team has a winning record against Brazil over the past ten years. They say they usually are almost always able to control possession against Brazil and the deciding factor is usually whether or not the strikers can finish, which hasn’t been a problem as of late against the other top teams. Basically, most Ghanaians are more than confident that their team can handle Brazil.

Let’s just hope they’re right…

Ghana 2, Czech Republic 0

2006-06-19T09:34:00.000-03:00

Saturday was World Cup magic for Ghana.

It seemed a pretty impossible situation, though you would never think so on the ground here in Ghana. After dropping their opening match 2-0 to Italy, the #48 ranked Ghana had to beat the #2 ranked Czech Republic to keep their World Cup hopes alive. Though most of the foreign media didn’t give Ghana much of a chance to win, everyone I talked to in Wa was completely convinced that

Ghana

would be fine. Their team shared this sense of confidence; the Ghanaian captain actually laughed at reporters who told him their chances were slim. Simply put, Ghana has a fantastic side and they know it.

The game was to start at 4pm. Earlier in the day I welcomed Ian, a fellow EWB volunteer, to the Upper West, as he had just been transferred to an NGO in Wa. Shortly after checking him into the hotel, we set off with one goal in mind—finding a good spot to watch the game. Most of Wa’s streets were emptied as everyone crowded around the few small TVs that were around in the outdoor bars. We checked our watches and realised that it was already a minute or two into the game, and so made our way towards a nice looking hut with a big crowd ….

We were still 10 meters away from our destination when suddenly the entire place exploded into celebrations; people were jumping over the few chairs and tables, hugging each other, dancing on or around anything in sight and screaming GOOOOAAALL!!! Ian and I exchanged an excited grin and went running into the madness high-fiving everyone we passed. Eventually the place finally calmed enough for us to see the replay on the 15” TV that everyone packed around. It was a beautiful play and the first World Cup goal in Ghana’s history. Despite the fact that it was a series of replays, the bar treated every showing as a new goal, exploding into a fresh set of cheers, chants, and celebrations each time they saw the ball go into the net. Ian and I just looked at each other and burst out laughing; it was shaping up to be a good afternoon!

As the game got back underway there was an overwhelming feeling of hope and excitement in the room. It was clear that we were in a football crazy crowd as every good pass or play was met with enthusiastic applause. The funniest element of the match to me was that everyone was so confident in the Ghanaian squad that they essentially assumed every shot on net was a goal, which led to a lot of excited confusion for Ian and I since the preemptive celebrators usually jumped up in front of the screen and we could never tell whether or not it was an actual goal (didn’t usually matter for the Ghanaians, they celebrated anyway).

Picture this exhilarating euphoria extended over 120 minutes and that’s basically how the rest of the game went….

I’ve always said that Canadians are generally obsessive about their hockey. And I think that’s true; we love it and can never get enough. But, frankly, the Ghanaian love for football makes us seem indifferent about our national obsession. The post-game celebrations of their 2-0 victory were unlike anything I’d ever seen; the streets of Wa were absolutely swarmed with people! Everyone who owned any type of motorized vehicle packed it full of their friends and went flying down the streets with the horns blaring. Ghana’s World Cup theme song—“Straight to the Top (Come on Black Stars, Ghana)”—could be heard blaring from every TV and stereo set in the city. Ian and I laughed and sang along with the music, high-fiving and hugging everyone we passed.

Most people were very quick to ask us where we were from and which team we supported; and they were even quicker to embrace us at our answers. I don’t even know what I could possibly compare the celebration and atmosphere to; I’m struggling to find any words that can convey the overwhelming sense of hope, pride, and sheer jubilation that pervaded the air. People we passed shouted to us that “now the world can see how well Ghana plays football!” It was a near-religious triumph for a country that absolutely breathes the sport but struggles to promote its wealth of talented athletes on the global market because of limited resources.

However, as we neared the hotel one particularly interesting Ghanaian enthusiast ran up to Ian shouting “We beat you people! We beat you!!” We were shocked. As two people who were sporting bags with Canadian flags and were walking around screaming “Two-Nil!!”, “Go Ghana!” and cheering with everyone else, this absolutely floored us. But it also opened our eyes. This dark insight into the mentality of a former British slave colony changed our mood for the rest of the walk home as we began to see the true depths of the celebrations and what this victory really meant for Ghana and, likely, all of Africa. This was more than a simple sporting victory and it was more than a great underdog story. This was a symbolic triumph that is dear to the hearts of every Ghanaian. This was success despite harsh oppression; this was Ghana succeeding in a world where the odds are stacked against them.

I only hope that it’s a sign of things to come....

A New Beginning

2006-06-17T18:20:00.000-03:00

I haven’t been able to think of a ‘good’ update for quite some time. In fact, I’ve resorted to posting a couple random entries without much thought just to reassure myself that I’m not slacking and am still providing posts for people back home. But I think it’s time to be honest with myself.... The problem isn’t “writer’s block.” I have tons of things to write about and do so easily so long as I know I won’t paste those thoughts on this journal.

But why won't I paste my thoughts on this journal? This is, after all, supposed to be about my personal reactions and reflections to everything I’m seeing here. So why the obsession with trying to craft a blog in which every entry is a carefully constructed self-important message instead of just honestly explaining what’s going on?

Tons of things happen that are more than worth writing about, and I’m constantly fighting intense feelings of guilt, pity, joy, hope, and frustration. But for some reason I don’t write or post about this because I’m afraid of the ‘message’ that I’ll send home about

Ghana

. But you know what? It’s not my duty to adequately sum up the essence of an entire country in a few short entries to everyone back home. It is, however, my duty to be honest with myself and, subsequently, with the people who read my thoughts.

The fact is that I feel guilty. I feel guilty about being a rich white kid in an area where 80-90% of the people live on less than a dollar a day. I feel guilty about living a life full of possibilities and opportunities that people here will never have (and that I take for granted). I feel guilty for always telling myself that this placement and its hardships are only temporary. I feel guilty about spending most of my time like a tourist who’s having a summer of a lifetime touring through people’s poverty and writing self-aggrandizing entries about it.

I’ve taken this weekend off and have run away to Wa until I can feel in control of myself again. I was given a nice pep-talk last night from a personal hero and new-found friend; she went on a very interesting adventure of her own last summer and at one point in her travels wrote a list of realisations that I feel are only too relevant to my situation a year later:

Your first job in life is to be grateful for what you have, experience, and are.
You are free.
Many, many people love you.
Yes, you are a rich white kid.
Lucky you. Enjoy it.
There are many, many impoverished people who feel that their only chance at achieving significance is acquiring as much wealth and opportunity as you have.
Yes, you are a tourist.
Lucky you. Enjoy it.
Folks back home like the writin', or seem to.
Poof! A Reason for Being.
Your best bet at achieving significance with your life is being yourself.
It is not your job to be special.

This is the point where I am determined to start writing about what I want, when I want. This is the point where I decide not worry about people judging how I spend my time and if my desires make me a bad person. I need to admit to myself that it’s ok to run away to an internet café or to lock myself up in my room with a book if I feel like it. I need to be happy and I need to want to do what it is that I’m doing because, frankly, doing anything grudgingly won’t serve anyone.

It’s time to accept the fact that I’m on the journey of a lifetime that I’m privileged enough to afford. It’s time to stop trying to write from the point of view of a faultless, thoughtful development worker and to start writing as *me*. I may not always be fascinating and I may not always make a clear point—hell, sometimes I might sound like a complete emotional idiot who doesn’t know where he’s at. But you know what? That’s ok; it just gives me something to look back and improve on. Start here and move forwards; I'll figure it all out eventually.

Writer's block

2006-06-12T11:26:00.000-03:00

Who knew you could get writer's block when almost every moment of every day contains experiences worth thinking and writing about? I’m overwhelmed with ‘having nothing to say.’

The problem is that the things that used to amaze me are now simply normal, everyday occurrences. Jenn Dysart, who is a long-term volunteer from UNB whose blog is here, said it best in EWB’s last e-newsletter:

“The run-away goat in the middle of the main street hardly warrants a second glance. The lady carrying a suitcase on her head, a baby on her back, her arms full of plastic bags and wearing no shoes is no longer a rare sighting. And children playing with toys made purely from old dirty milk cartons, bent wire, or empty bottles no longer evoke pity, but admiration at their ingenuity.”

I just went out and photographed a few random things around town. Here’s what I got:

I actually haven’t quite gotten used to this yet…. This particular herd of cows is pretty average by local standards, though they’ve actually all put on weight since I first arrived, thanks to the grass that came shortly after the rains. I’ve been told that by the end of the rainy season they will fill out to look like the cows we’re used to seeing back home in Canada.

Both Mike and I have tried many times to carry water or containers on our heads; the result has simply been a lot of spilled liquids and strained neck muscles. It’s not as easy as it looks!

There’s no paved roads around here, so dirt roads have become a common sight. The ground is a very intense red-brown not unlike the beaches in PEI.

That’s all for now.

I do have a random request, though. I'm out of the loop in terms of news, especially news from home. However, someone sent me this link (http://cnews.canoe.ca/CNEWS/Politics/2006/06/06/1617548.html). Is this a joke? Can anyone send an email to brynferris@ewb.ca and explain how the heck this is even possible??

Mole!!

2006-06-05T16:20:00.000-03:00

This weekend marked my first full month in

Ghana

and, for the first time since starting work, I took a couple of days off over the weekend to travel. As luck would have it, the Peace Corps was having a meeting at the same place a few EWB volunteers wanted to visit; and so Mike and I set off for Mole National Park.

A remarkable chunk of land in Northern Ghana, Mole National Park is located just outside of Damongo (where Kyle and Dan are placed). I’ve been told that it holds several hundred species of plants, animals, and birds and spans over 2600 square miles, making it the largest National Park in West Africa. The park itself is probably one of the closest approximations of a tourist trap that Ghana has, though with some good investment and advertising it could easily pull in at least ten times the revenue. That said, the “Mole Motel,” where all guests stay, was still slightly ridiculous to me after becoming accustomed to my living conditions in the Upper West. There was electricity (fans!!), running water, sinks, toilets, and even working showers. Across from our room was a bar which served a huge selection of drinks and had a menu that offered strange items such as “grilled chicken,” “hamburgers,” “omelets,” “French toast,” and “French fries”; each for what was, until now, the equivalent of a week’s spending in Hain (ie: 56 000 to 64 000 cedis = $7 or $8). The people in the park were almost all white; it was super weird to be around tourists after a month of roughing it as a volunteer; trying to fit into the culture. I remember being shocked at the things some of the ‘tourists’ would say to the guides, or what they get mad at them for (like snapping your fingers and pointing where to go, which may be rude back home but is totally normal here).

The place also had an in-ground swimming pool. I feel this deserves a paragraph in itself because it absolutely blew me away; I wasn’t quite sure what to make out of the fact that there was a giant pool of water for our convenience in a district where many people struggle to find enough clean water to drink each day….

Our trip to Mole was an adventure in itself; I could take hours to tell the story to anybody back home but I just summarise it to fellow volunteers in a simple phrase: “Ghanaian travel difficulties.” Needless to say, it was unnecessarily long; we finally arrived in Mole 5pm Saturday, about 34 hours after leaving our place outside Hain. Upon arriving we discovered that Mike had missed his meeting and that the other 7 EWB volunteers that had come arrived a long time ago and were off somewhere searching for elephants. I decided I was best off waiting for them (and my hamburger) in the morally questionable yet thoroughly enjoyable swimming pool.

Fast-forward to 7am the following morning. With everyone else having taken the 4am bus back to Tamale, Ben and I decided to set out on one of the morning safaris in hopes of seeing the elephants that had eluded everyone the day before. Fortunately for us, we weren’t 2 minutes into our hike when we spotted a group of ten of them of to the left at the top of a ridge. Cameras in hand, we excitedly followed them all the way down the cliffs to a small field, where, the guide explained, they usually wait for the rest of their herd to arrive. After a short while the elephants moved on to a nearby watering hole, where we watched them play and bathe for the better part of an hour. I took a series of pictures and videos of the elephants jumping into the water and on top of each other; unfortunately the videos are too large to upload here.

After we moved on from the watering hole we made our way past groups of baboons, warthogs, water bucks, and antelope-like animals whose name I forget. My favourite moment of the tour came when one of the other Canadians in our group pointed to a warthog and said “hey look, it’s Pumba! Where’s Timon?” The tour guide responded “yes, those are warthogs or ‘Pumbas’.” He then turned and mumbled something about not knowing what language ‘Pumba’ was… I had trouble containing myself when I realised that so many tourists had made Lion King references that he thought it was an actual name for warthog in some foreign language. Oh well, at least I know I’m not the only one who spent the entire weekend playing the Lion King soundtrack in their head….

After the tour we made a point of doing as little as possible for the rest of the day; resting by the poolside, looking out over the cliff at the endless land, and chatting away about our thoughts and experiences over our first month. It was really nice to see the other EWBers again; even in silence there’s an overwhelming feeling of mutual frustrations and understanding. One of the most subtly frustrating parts of the placement is that there’s never a complete level of understanding or communication when communicating with co-workers and community members. As a result, Ben and I stayed up far later than we should have sharing our thoughts with each other; excited by the fact that we knew we could be totally open and that other could identify with our thoughts. Though it resulted in us both being exhausted when we returned to our villages, the communication was very necessary for our sanity.

In retrospect, the whole weekend was far more beneficial than I could have imagined. Seeing everyone at Mole felt like seeing old high school friends after spending a couple years apart.

I can’t even imagine what it’ll feel like to see them at the end of the summer….

Random thoughts and responses to comments

2006-06-03T16:08:00.000-03:00

Apparently there were people that, for some reason, thought I looked like I was sweating a lot in one of my last sets of pictures. This actually made me laugh out loud:

My friends, this is 100% pure “it’s 40 degrees out and I just biked several kilometres to work while drinking several litres of water” sweat. Anything else pales in comparison.

On an equally random note, those who know me know that I have a very strong liking for random graffiti; websites like http://postsecret.com and www.pi cturesofwalls.com are something slightly more than obsessions for me. Well, as luck would have it, Ghana is absolutely chalk full of various sayings and messages; some of them brilliant, some of them not. No matter where you go it seems there’s always something written on the tro-tros or buildings. I’ve spent most of my time in the cities in awe, thoroughly amused and amazed by some of the things I saw. However, as I soon found out, most of the ‘graffiti’ writings that I was seeing were actually the names of shops; since the owners couldn’t afford any real signs they simply wrote the name on the outside of the building. The reason that I didn’t immediately understand that these were store names was because they were so deeply religious and odd.

Admittedly, I was told before coming to expect to find some pretty hilarious and religious names for stores and tro-tros; but nothing could have prepared me for what I’ve found so far:

Bryn's Favourites
- “Satan dies naked here spot”
- “Cocaine rice”
- “The Lord he giveth salvation air conditioner ent.”
- “Fear woman”
- “Jesus is the owner metallurgy”
- “The world is not our home ent.”
- “The Lord blesses his faithful inc.”
- “As if but not”
- “Covered in the blood of Jesus electronics”
- “Sharp corner fast food on a sharp corner”
- “Cow ey get no tale”
- “(Just) Kill Me”
- “Quick action spot”
- “Psalm 16:23”

I am far too easily amused sometimes…

Stranger in a Strange Land

2006-05-27T12:59:00.000-03:00

I’ve finished reading what is likely to be the first of many books this summer. First on the list was Robert A. Heinlein’s “Stranger in a Strange Land,” which was a fantastic book with a very appropriate title for my current situation.

The book is about a man, Valentine Michael Smith who is born on Mars, educated by an extremely advanced Martian race, and then brought back ‘home’ to Earth. In light of the story and my experiences on the ground, I can’t help but draw parallels between the mentality of the fictional Martian society and actual Ghanaian society.

For one, Smith believed that all the religions on earth were correct and not contradictory; all of them were different ways to look at the same problem, in which all religions are united to a common purpose. Ghanaians are very similar in their fusion of beliefs. They incorporate Christian or Muslim beliefs into the traditional tribal beliefs without any problem. Highly educated Ghanaians, some with one or more university degrees in science, believe as readily in ghosts and witchcraft as they do in hydrogen bonding. As far as they’re concerned, nothing in science and religion contradict. Life can be studied or it can be left as it is and shrouded in mysticism. But above all else, it is beautiful. To Ghanaians, everything is Grace.

I’m amazed at how Ghanaians are such unbelievably happy, trusting, and peaceful people. I actually can’t quite get over it. Almost every element of their society is founded on such a deep trust that I almost feel guilty just thinking about it. Two quick examples:

1. When a woman with a baby wants to board a lorry or tro-tro, she passes her baby through the window to complete strangers, packs her bags, pays the driver, climbs on and finds her seat, and then has the baby passed back to her. She usually doesn’t know any of the people who hold and play with her baby during this process, and, equally, doesn’t care. No-one I’ve talked to finds anything odd about, save for other visiting volunteers like myself… I can’t possibly this practice being adopted back home.

2. While traveling to my work I passed through the capital of the Upper West Region, Wa. Upon arriving there I tried to take a taxi to the station, where I would bus up to Jirapa. I knew the taxi ride should only cost about 5000 cedis, but the man I asked insisted on trying to charge 10 000. After a few minutes of debating juxtaposed with small talk I got him to bring his price down to 8000. At the end of our trip we got out, unpacked all my bags and he led me to where my bus would arrive. As I went to pay him I realised that I only had a 10 000 cedis bill and that he had no change. He smiles at me, takes the bill, and hurries off into the chaos towards his taxi. I see him go through a mass of people, come out on the other side, get in the taxi and drive away. Figuring that I had been had, I gave up and started chatting with the man next to me. About ten minutes later a gentleman walks up to me with 2000 cedis and says “your change, sir.” I have no idea how many hands the money passed through but somehow, without either myself or the taxi driver looking, I got my change. Again, no-one blinked at this casual exchange; you always make sure that everyone gets their due change in Ghana… just amazing.

Situations like this, which usually happen every day, really lead me to question my being here. Morally and spiritually these people seem infinitely more advanced than home; and the sense of community is so strong here. So how, exactly, is the West trying to ‘develop’ these people? By trying to ‘raise their standard of living,’ dragging them into our crazy consumerist/capitalist system? What good will that really cause? Am I really just ruining a beautiful society by trying to bring them fancy machines; by trying to boost their economy with a consumerist mindset?

Maybe we should start flying Ghanaians to Canada so that they can ‘develop’ us…

Kaani

2006-05-23T13:10:00.000-03:00

Today I was able to go the field and experience more REFLECT community meetings. So, as promised, here’s a proper entry about the most rich and beneficial experience of my placement thus far.

I woke up at 6:30am this morning and, after a quick refreshing bucket shower, was ready when Jude picked me up at 7am, relatively late in the morning by African standards. After a brief stop at the office to gas up, we raced off on his motorbike down a dirt road that would have made an insurance agent cry.

Throughout the drive I can hear the kids screaming “Nansaalah! Nansaalah! HowareYOU!!” as we passed. Sometimes they even turn it into a song (with no appropriate pauses for you to respond) “Nansaalah. How are you. We are fine. Thank you!” I can’t really do much else but smile and wave back as we continue down the road. The adults are equally as friendly, though they don’t waste their energy shouting at a motorbike. As we drive I can’t help but wonder (for the thousandth time) if everybody is only so friendly because I am white, or if they’re actually this friendly thanks to a culture that is inherently kinder than our own. I think both factor in...

We arrived at the site to find 50 people already gathered, most of them women; the men had already left to farm and the women all stayed in town because in was Kaani’s market day (once every 6 days a town hosts a market, where all the surrounding community members come and sell their goods). Before Jude and I had come to a stop Raphael, who was the other RAAP worker with us, had already started to lead the group in a big sing-along.

He starts with what looks to be the chief, and then one by one he works his way around the circle, with each person singing a couple lines and the entire group responding. The lyrics are the same for each person, with the exception of the last line, which they seemed to make up for themselves (or at least I could hear no pattern to it). As Raphael came around to me I sang the main part, which I had already been repeated enough to be memorized, and then quickly mumbled something at the end for the last line while shooting the crowd my best sheepish grin. It worked; they had to stop the song while everyone ran around laughing, shouting, clapping and high-fiving me for my attempt. I couldn’t help but grin—from the first community visit we did it was apparent that no village would let me simply stand off to the side and observe; and so there’s usually no choice but to throw yourself into the singing and dancing and try to get as many laughs as you can. I’ve found that people accept your presence much faster if you goof around during the ‘fun time’ of the meeting, as goofing around is an inherent part of almost all social life here. The fact is that the villages usually want to see the white guy sing/dance, and once you show them you’re able to have a good time they more easily accept your presence for the remainder of the meeting, allowing you to step off to the side and observe the meeting while being relatively unnoticed.

I found it interesting that, by the time the song and dance finished, over 100 people had gathered—all of those originally “too busy” to join the meeting suddenly wanted to join in the fun. A very effective way to start off a meeting (I told you RAAP was good)! As the meeting got underway I quickly scanned the crowd. Most were traditionally dressed, but some had obviously Western clothing: ripped jeans, baseball caps, and t-shirts reading “Nike,” “Madonna,” “50 Cent” and, my favourite, “I Love My Attitude Problem." Scanning the crowd I realized that I had no idea how old most of the women in the crowd were; their faces were hardened by the sheer volume of hard work they did, sometimes making them seem decades older than they probably were. (If there’s one thing I’ve learned so far, it’s that women here do at least 80% of the work and get 0% of the thanks/respect.)

After introductions finished I became almost completely lost, since I’m not exactly fluent in Dagaare. In other meetings it was better for me, as the facilitators always used REFLECT tools which are easy to interpret and require little verbal explanation. This meeting, however, was the first REFLECT meeting run in this community, so it was an introduction to the program, tools, and songs—with an emphasis on speech rather than symbols. I had no choice but to sit back, relax, and watch the meeting progress; observing how people spoke and reacted to the speakers.

As I was sitting there I thought back to the first community visit we did, in which they created a “Health Calendar.” The facilitators had drawn a grid in the sand and the community used random materials lying around to represent diseases, placing them in the seasons in which they were a problem. The community members themselves decided what objects to use and what diseases they represented. As each person stood to pick an item, they had to describe why they made their choice and how the object related to the disease. Most of the items chosen held a very obvious link to the disease associated with them. Except one; a gentleman picked up a hard quarter-shell of one of their local fruits and announced to the crowd that it represented malaria (to which several people snickered). Even our NGO director could hardly keep a straight face when he asked what on earth an old piece of shell had to do with malaria. The man’s response, however, silenced the crowd. I found out later what he said: “This shell, if left face up, will collect rainwater. This still pool of water can then breed mosquitoes. These mosquitoes, in turn, will bite us and give us malaria.”

I should note here that ever since hearing this I’ve made a point of running around LEADEC emptying any and everything that could possibly collect water after each rainfall. (The villagers aren’t the only ones learning during these meetings!)

Anyway, the Kaani meeting ended after almost two and a half hours. Immediately a few kids came running up to me to shake hands and to invite me to join the football game that they were about to start. I declined, saying we had to go. After a very brief moment of sadness one of them kicked the ball towards the field and the rest of them went screamed on after it. I turned to see that a couple women had been watching me; they smiled and waved.I'm not quite sure how to end this so I'll take this opportunity to post my mailing address and phone number:

Bryn Ferris
C/O RAAP
PO Box 32
Jirapa, NWR
Ghana

Phone Number: 011 233 20 924 9952

I'm three hours ahead of Atlantic time right now. Feel free to call at any time -- it's nice to hear voices from home. :-)

One last thing -- I've added links to a glossary and to other volunteer blogs. Check them out!

REFLECT

2006-05-21T15:47:00.000-03:00

For the past four days the entire office has been involved in a ‘voluntary’ workshop. Despite the fact that everyone had to give up their weekends for the work, I have not heard a single complaint about it. The workshop has been a great introduction to RAAP for me, showing me just how passionate and talented these people are at what they do.

REFLECT is a community development tool to help communities identify their development opportunities/issues and act on them. REFLECT stands for REgenerated Freirean Literacy through Empowering Community Techniques. It was started by Paulo Freire, a Brazilian Educator who spent two years researching how adult literacy could be promoted while increasing community participation in the development process. The result is a widely used methodology that is endorsed by major international NGOs such as OXFAM and ActionAid International.

There are two major components to RAAP’s use of REFLECT:

Community Dialogue, Action, and Development

Community members meet regularly for participatory analysis of community issues to identify concerns and to raise awareness using PRA/PLA Tools.
REFLECT Committee meet to develop action plans for the development/implementation of development activities identify in REFLECT meetings.

Literacy

“Night Circle” literacy classes are held for all interested adults, in which reading, writing, and numeracy are taught in Dagaare (the local language). Advanced classes may progress to a secondary language (usually English)

The entire process is driven by facilitators, though REFLECT stresses that they do nothing other than simply facilitate. It’s meant to be a completely participatory process in which the community is empowered, having full ownership of the issues. The graphics that are developed to identify issues must be completely made at the site using materials available at the site (ie: no primers). This allows a creative and active involvement of all participants, building on their knowledge while still respecting all local oral traditions, making it relevant to the local context.

The graphics I mentioned are all part of the “REFLECT Tool Box.” They include maps (household, agricultural, community, etc), calendars (agricultural, health, gender workload, hunger & abundance, etc), matrices (crop, credit, household decisions, etc) and other tools such as guided/transect walks, problem trees, pairwise ranking, and cause/effect analysis. There’s over fifty different ‘tools’ that a facilitator can use to try and bring to light issues and to encourage discussion on how to address issues.

I found it interesting to note that my NGO director often quotes Robert Chambers’ thoughts on the process and is known to say sentences like “you remember in the video when Chambers said...” (Robert Chambers spoke at the EWB National Conference in Ottawa in January and is now on EWB’s advisory board.) Also, for anyone who is interested in the methodology, I have a copy of the workshop notes that one of my co-workers typed up. If you want a copy just email me at brynferris@ewb.ca.

The most valuable part of the training to me was the field practice. During the four days of training we visited five different communities and facilitated the activities that they were running. Not only did I get to see the methodology in action, but the experience of traveling to these remote villages and experiencing the people and culture was indescribably awesome. I didn’t take my camera with me as I was afraid of cultural inappropriateness; I apologize for the lack of pictures to compliment the most interesting part. However, more field visits will be underway next week, where I hope to bring a camera and write a proper entry about one of these amazing communities.

2006-05-16T15:31:00.000-03:00

So I am finally settled in at work and ready to go. I just hooked up my laptop and set up my stuff around what is to become my desk. I’m fairly lucky in that there’s actually electricity at work (not the case at home). Mr. Sinkari told me to set up and start working while he figures out whether or not they need to head to Wa to fix up some equipment. Needless to say, I find it difficult to start working when I have not been given anything to work on…

The office is a small, three room office with few plugs, hardly adequate for a staff of 15+. My desk is surprisingly nice (which is not, of course, to say it’s amazing—simply that it has no defects and is both clean and smooth). Already I regret leaving my mouse at home, especially if I will be working a lot on my laptop, as it seems I will.

RAAP is starting to run a “Leadership Training Centre,” which, in addition to being where I’m living for the summer, will eventually train RAAP staff, directors, and local NGOs on leadership techniques and skills. They want me to start designing programs and modules for this training; a direct way to build capacity in a sustainable way. I’m encouraged by RAAP’s approach, especially since I’ve heard some horror stories of others NGOs who simply don’t “get it.” It seems like everywhere I go random people are singing high praise for RAAP, despite the fact that it’s a relatively new organisation that has only been around for a few years.

At the moment RAAP is not running any “engineering” development projects in the communities it works with, though the Peace Corps volunteer and myself are looking into the feasibility of a multi-function platform project in the region. RAAP is an amazingly flexible organisation and refuses to implement any program in any village where they do not feel it’s appropriate. At the moment they work in three main fields: education, health, and livelihoods (with gender equity running throughout). They run micro-credit programs, where small grants are given to business owners to help get them started or to expand their operations. They also run livestock initiatives, where farm animals and equipment are supplied to areas that have identified these things as their primary need. Above all else though, they run a program called REFLECT, which I’m sure I’ll have a lot to say about after this weekend, since the entire staff is having “REFLECT Training” all weekend long.

Ok, well I just got my first assignment, which is a stack of papers and write-ups concerning the Leadership Centre… time to get to work!

Arrived at last!

2006-05-15T09:53:00.000-03:00

This Monday marks both my first complete week in the country and the day that I move into my home for the summer. My director, Mr. Evans Sinkari, has put me up in some new buildings that RAAP is renovating and hopes to turn into their training centre. The buildings are about 4km outside the nearest village, Hain, where the RAAP offices are located. I’m disappointed that I am not able to live with a family and experience the culture further, but all the people at RAAP have already gone to such great lengths to set this up that I don’t want to offend them.

Two of the employees stayed with me when I got in this morning, helping me roll out some mat/floors for my room, and cutting and hanging some curtains. They also fetched some water and cleaned out some buckets that I can use to shower from. They’re also making a list of everything I could possibly need and are trying to get it for me. It all seems like a bit too much for me (and I’ve told them this), but they’re confident that the more material things they can provide for me the happier I’ll be. It’s probably a half-truth, but this precedent set for Westerners troubles me a bit. I didn’t come here to be pampered; I came here to try and help, all the while experiencing life the way these wonderful people live it. While room service is nice, I’m not sure it’s such a great growth opportunity.

I’m told I will have a neighbour soon. His name is Mike, and he’s an American Peace Corps volunteer who has been here since December and will remain here for two years. He went traveling somewhere last week and was supposed to be back last Friday. They don’t know where he’s to, but they’ve mentioned that he often leaves and is not, in their eyes, very committed to helping them. Seeing as I haven’t met the guy yet, he definitely has the benefit of the doubt in my mind, especially since I know that there’s weekends in which I’ll have to peel out to meet EWB people and submit reports, etc.

Right now I really have to use the washroom, but there are no latrines or anything set up. I was told that the whole office will come construct some simple pit latrines for the centre in a week or so as a team building activity. Sounds great, but until then I assume I’m just to walk as far away from the buildings as I can into the bush and have a nice squat.

It’s hard to describe what I feel right now, as so much is unknown or simply unfolding as the day goes on. I’m getting quite thirsty and have fetched some water from the borehole, though I’m not sure if it’s safe to drink or not. I tried to pristine it in my Nalgene bottle, but I found it hard to get exactly 4 drops of each solution, and consequently loaded too many chemicals in it. It tastes quite funny and already my stomach seems to be reacting to it. I could kill for some sachet water right now.

Scratch that. Most of the office staff just showed up with drinks and food. These people are too good to me! :)

Accra, Part Two

2006-05-11T09:39:00.000-03:00

As we exited the tro-tro in Jamestown (on the coast), a well dressed man offers to take us down to the beach area and show us around. He said his name was James, and that he teaches math and science in a senior high school in the city (which is quite a ways from Jamestown). He leads us down past an old slave fort that has now been converted into a prison, with huge walls lined with barbed wire and broken glass; we can hear the prisoners shouting inside.

After winding our way down a dusty path to the beach we are greeted by the sight of significant poverty. We walk around goats, chickens, and kids playing football while the men watch us from shacks that can, miraculously, still stand up. There are hundreds of boats along the shore, but none in the water; James explains that there is no fishing on Tuesday because of the Creationist belief that the waters were created on Tuesday. As we walked out onto the pier I couldn’t help but be struck by the view along the shore, with big fancy government buildings being only one come away; an interesting visual that we quickly sneaked a picture of.

As James continues to take us around the village we can’t help but all feel like we’re simply taking a guided tour of people’s poverty. Though I feared they might resent a group of Westerners being led around, as if their lives and livelihoods are a spectacle to see, these people still greeted us with a friendly wave and smile. We still can’t help but feel like intruders. When leaving the area, the sight of a toddler following a man dragging a rusty saw nearly as big as he is only reinforces the fact that we’re simply sight-seeing poverty—with real people. Reminding ourselves that this is what half of our placement is about, we leave the beach with James and head towards his house.

On the way to James’ house, two small children throw themselves at Ben and myself, giving our legs an eager, sincere hug. As we continue walking, James explains to me that most of the children I meet will think that I am Jesus; they will often shout out “Sunday born!” to me because I am white. At the time I considered his comments interesting, but I brushed them aside as we entered his neighbourhood to meet his wife and son. After a short chat we make our way back to the tro-tro stop, passing through an alley past a elementary/middle school. As luck would have it, classes ended as we entered the alley, and the children came pouring out while our group was passing by… chaos ensued. They came screaming towards us; shaking hands, high five-ing, and screaming “howareYOU” at the top of their lungs, as if we were rock-stars or royalty. Those of us at the front of the group were able to avoid most of the mob, but those at the back got cut off from the rest by the wave of kids. Marka, who was in the middle, somehow managed to take a quick, blind picture over her shoulder without anyone noticing. Even though the picture is off to the side, I’m still quite fond of it; though I promised myself that I wouldn’t post it without first talking about the whole situation.

The main reason that I was initially hesitant to post the picture is because of the dangerous message that it portrays. There are few things that I hate more than “the white Westerner coming to safe Africa.” As I have always believed (and as has been confirmed on the ground), these people are capable and hard-working—they do not need us to come ‘rescue’ them. It’s extremely easy to overstate the importance and impact that I, as a Westerner, can and will have here, particularly through images like the one above. My single biggest issue with organisations such as World Vision is that they always portray African children as helpless and Westerners as their saviours; and I made a vow to myself that I would not perpetuate this image of Africa. As I’ve found already, it’s unbelievably easy to get self-congratulatory images such as this one; but the attitudes of children should not be exploited and used to show how ‘great’ some people can be.

So because of this I ask that you don’t look at that image as proof that we’re doing great work overseas, or even that myself or anyone else there is a great person because the kids are so happy. I post this picture as a reminder to myself, as well as anyone reading it, to always be conscious of how you act while doing development work overseas and how you want to bring messages back home. I didn’t realize until I got here just how easy it can be to skew your message to home and degrade people who deserve far better.

The best image to send back is one that lets the viewer know that Westerners can see and experience Ghana’s overwhelming optimism; but that they do not cause it. (I’ll let you know if I find/take one.)

Market in Accra

2006-05-10T15:23:00.000-03:00

Our last day in Accra with nothing short of phenomenal; we took full advantage of what would be our last day in ‘tourist’ mode before we were to head up north and begin work.

Mid-way through the day we went to what one of the larger markets in Accra, which spanned a couple city blocks and whose centre was a three story building that was as big as a city block itself. The market was busy with foods, cloths, various trinkets, and smiling faces; and we got a lot of waves and people saying “ete sen?” (“how are you?”), to which we reply “eh yeh!”

There were nine of us at the market, so we broke up into smaller groups. I headed off with Ben, Luke, and Samina to find oranges, mangos and fried yams. After getting our food we stood around eating them in a small, unoccupied spot near the middle of the market. Not two minutes after we get there a woman calls us over to her stall as those around her scurry to find chairs for us. We’re all a little more than uneasy at this display of white privilege, but Luke assures us that it’d be worse to decline and we sit down anyway. As we ate, a small (and incredibly cute) girl summons the courage to come up to us. Ben says hello and asks her what her name is in Twi (“Ya fre we sen?”), to which she whispered something inaudible. One of the women sitting at the counter eventually shoos the girl away, despite our protests.

After saying thank you to the women (“madasi”), we make out way to the top floor of the market, where clothes and fabric are being sold. We stop and see a finished pinkish traditional shirt that is priced at 60 000 cedis. I tried to barter with the woman to bring down the price but she wouldn’t budge. After wandering away for a bit, surrounded by bright colours and the sounds of sewing machines, we head back to the first lady. The lady still won’t budge on the price and brings out another shirt with the same pattern, but in blue/purple, likely thinking that I didn’t like the colour of the pink one. Eventually I gave in and bought the pink shirt for 60 000. Not long after putting on my new shirt Ben ran back to the lady in order to buy the second one—which was rather funny considering we had already been mistaken as twins several times early in the day. After excitedly taking a picture with the woman, we make our way out of the market and down to the tro-tros.

Many people were enthusiastic to see our attempts to fit in, but I couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous about it. We couldn’t be sure whether or not it looked like we were trying to buy our acceptance into their culture ($6+ for a shirt is a lot here). Ben mused that we might be perceived as mocking them by thinking that we’re any closer to belonging here by simply purchasing a shirt; an interesting thought that I was left to mull over as we boarded the tro-tro and headed for the beach.

I’ll have to continue this story tomorrow. Time is precious in these (unreliable) internet cafés, and the bulk of my time is spent uploading pictures (speaking of which, I managed to get most of the pictures for my past couple entries up... pictures for this one will come next time).

Sweet delicious African sunset...

2006-05-09T10:03:00.000-03:00

There are few things more beautiful than Accra from above at sunset.

From the moment we stepped out of the back of the plane it was more than apparent that we were on a different continent. What I immediately assumed was hot steamy air from the jet’s engines soon proved to be nothing more than typical evening air in Accra. After taking a ten second bus ride (no joke) to the airport terminal, we entered the customs lines. As was the case in Amsterdam, all the dignitaries just glanced at our Canadian passports and waved us through without asking any questions. When the 23 of us got outside we found 4 long term EWB volunteers waiting to help us get cabs to the hostel/hotel thing they found us.

I take a lot of things for granted, and from the moment we met the volunteers I found one of what is sure to be a long sequence. In trying to secure us cabs all four of the long term volunteers had to bargain/yell at the drivers for a good ten or twenty minutes before they finally got a decent rate (which was then upped from 40,000 to 45,000 cedis as we got in the car, but they were tired of fighting by then). The drive itself was crazy; the driver was calmly whipping around cars and pedestrians (despite having no working speedometer), honking at almost everything that moved. He was a very nice man who was working long into what should have been his retirement in order to ensure that his son and daughter can go to university in Accra.

I spent most of the drive staring open-mouthed at the window. Not a single thing in the city seemed familiar—cars, buildings, clothes, vendors, advertisements… everything was very obviously unique. After several minutes of silence in the back of the cab Kyle looks over at me and says: “Ever have those moments that you know you’ll remember for the rest of your life?” To which I replied
“You mean like that comment?”

After checking into the hotel we went down to what they call “circle,” which is a seemingly endless series of street vendors, stands and tro-tro stations. As we were told in training, we were always the centre of attention, to the point that most every car honked and people constantly came up to us to shake our hands and talk. The excessive pleasantries were nice, but put me ill-at-ease, as I sensed that many of them were looking for a chance to take advantage of us. A few kilometres later on, I was proved right when a lady overcharged me for my meal (11 000 for a 5000 meal…but I successfully told her off to get my money back). I was especially glad because Jon, who had ordered and paid before my and was seated when I ordered/paid, was actually overcharged even more than I was and never realized it until I told him about my adventures with the lady at the cash.

It’s hard to articulate just how different everything is here, and how it feels overwhelmingly alien yet almost comfortable. From ordering food, to the smell of the air, to the greetings and interactions, everything is so markedly different from what I’ve known from now. And though I tried to visualize what everything could possibly be like here before coming, I am awestruck at how beautifully unique everything is; it is proving to truly be beyond my wildest dreams.

Man, that’s three entries in three days. Don’t expect this trend to continue though; we’re bussing up north tomorrow, at which point electricity and internet will be a huge question mark. I’ll try to update as much as possible after that—we’ll see how it goes.

Take care,
Bryn

Amsterdam to Accra

2006-05-08T17:58:00.000-03:00

I just looked out the window right now; desert as far as the eye can see (which is a heck of a lot at 10,668m above the ground). I can’t possibly fathom the Sahara Desert. Not even now that I’m staring wide-eyed out a window at it. There’s something about a parching hot sun in a seemingly eternally dry land that is just beyond my imagination right now. Perhaps it won’t be for long.

Everyone from EWB who was passed out around the aircraft for the first half of the flight is wide awake now, staring out any available window and/or writing furiously in their journals. For all of us this is suddenly all very real; it’s really happening—we’re going to Africa! I can hear Elisa a few rows behind me talking to a Ghanaian about farming in Canada. The guy she’s talking to is hilarious and sounds so happy about everything. All I can think about is how often I’ll be having similar conversations over the next few months...

Apoorva and I just spent the last ten minutes with our faces glued to two windows at the back on either side of the plane. On the right side it’s ridiculously dry, with tall sand dunes that you can actually see shifting in the winds. In the distance was a random oasis in the middle of the desert, with a small town around it. The farms around the town were interesting in that they were actually circular instead of the typical rectangular fields that I’m used to seeing. They’re massive circles too—at least a kilometre in diameter from what we could guess. Meanwhile on the left side of the plane there are visible signs of rainfall across the land, and apparently Kyle and Jamaal just spotted a football stadium in what looked like a major city. Judging by the plane’s tracking on the monitors it’s most likely El Menia, which is in Algeria.

Soon we'll be over Mali, Burkina Faso, then finally Ghana as the sun is setting. My battery is dieing, so I'll end this and continue enjoying the fantastic view.

Toronto to Amsterdam

2006-05-07T11:46:00.000-03:00

Yet again, I’m typing in mid-air; we’re somewhere over the Atlantic at this point. We’ll “briefly” stop in Amsterdam for 6 hours before continuing on to Accra in what will be tomorrow. All 23 volunteers bound for Ghana are together on the same flights the whole way through, which has made my sitting in a middle seat much more bearable.

In walking around the Toronto airport and even sitting here on the plane I feel nothing. It almost feels wrong that I’m not going crazy thinking of what lies before me. After spending a week where every single emotion—excited, overwhelmed, terrified—was completely maxed out, I think my body has finally had enough and is in “numb” mode until further notice. I suppose it’s best, seeing as there’s a long trip ahead, but it almost feels like I’m a bad person for not being permanently ecstatic throughout my travels.

It feels like I’ve learned more in a week of training than I would a semester of school. The sheer volume of information that we covered is pretty impressive, especially considering the amount of sleep we got each night. All the discussions people had fostered a huge amount of critical thought and introspection, pushing me in ways that I’ve never been pushed before. I was especially grateful that so many past volunteers were around to talk about their thoughts, emotions, and struggles in previous summers, when the placements were much more uncertain with much less support. The fact that every one of them came out of their experience alive and smiling is extremely reassuring.

This whole experience has been fantastic so far—and it’s hardly even beginning! I’m unbelievably glad to have had the opportunity to go through training with such amazing people before going overseas. These people are so full of hope, passion and ability; and I couldn’t have asked for a better support group.

How much information can you cram into a week?

2006-05-04T00:44:00.000-03:00

Somehow I managed to successfully arrive at the EWB Training House in downtown Toronto with no directions and no house number. Now, like most other proud east coast folk I hate Toronto; but I must admit that everyone I met was very helpful, pointing me in the right direction and being generally more pleasant than Torontonians are known to be. So the people are nice... however, the endless concrete would still be too much for me if I ever tried to move here.

The EWB Training House is, to say the least, absolutely crazy. It's a small three floor, three bedroom duplex in a Portugese and Chinese neighbourhood in the heart of Toronto. This week it is hosting myself, 22 other short term volunteers, and 4 national office staff. Needless to say, sleep, let alone a nice bed, is almost impossible to come by. I'm not complaining though, because it's more than worth the trade-off to be in a house with so many fantastically inspiring people with such amazing life experiences. I don't think twice about late night conversations as their sharp minds often provide fantastic insights for me. Besides, sleep is for the weak anyway.

Training itself is even more intense than what our packed schedule suggests. We usually run for at least 12 hours a day covering a wide variety of topics to a remarkable amount of depth. We're divided into two groups of 11/12 people in order to maximize the effectiveness of the sessions--an important decision as it helps us stay involved (and awake) during the long days. It's not that the modules are boring; it's just that it's hard to digest so much information so quickly without your mind wandering or trying to shut off.

Our modules have included:

Hopes and Fears
What is Poverty?
Introduction to Rural Livelihoods
EWB's Vision
Health with Dr. Wise (EWB's doctor)
Nutrition
Peer to Peer Learning
Cross-Cultural Communication
Integration
Culture Shock
Sector Focus Groups (Water and Sanitation)
Gender Roles and Issues
Understanding the Development Sector
EWB's Impact Model
Safety and Security
Photography

We're at about the halfway point of training right now, so that list will more than double by the end of it. I'm amazed at just how useful all my RC courses have been so far, and how some of the topics are my upcoming classes this year (such as Cross-Cultural Communications). Yay for useful university programs!

Right now everyone's frantically working on presentations we have to make tomorrow morning. That reminds me: I should start working on the presentation I have tomorrow morning! It's fairly basic, but I should give it a quick look over before I collapse... look for another update for me soon, as I (finally) got my specific project details and hope to go over them tomorrow sometime. Until then take care and thanks for checking up on me!

Take care,
Bryn

Thoughts before predeparture training

2006-04-30T14:47:00.000-03:00

I’m sitting on the plane to Toronto and I only wish I could describe what I feel. I’ve been waiting for this chance for as long as I can remember; I’m finally going to live out my dream. All of the doubts and fears as to whether or not I will be useful or effective have been washed away by this overwhelming feeling that things will work out in the end and that I’ll make the most of my opportunities.

I’ve spent a couple months answering some simple questions: “How does it feel?” “Are you excited?” I never knew how to truly answer those questions to any degree of depth because the prospects of this entire trip were completely overwhelming. And they’re still overwhelming now. I can’t possibly imagine what my summer will be like because the entire culture, country, and continent are so far removed from the life I’ve known up until now. Every single little thing that I’ve taken for granted may very well change and I have no idea how I’ll react to that. All I can really do at this point is ask questions and have faith in myself and my ability to persevere and/or adapt.

One of my good friends from Manitoba, Apoorva, is also going to Ghana with me, though she’s working on a different project. We’ve been exchanging excited/terrified emails for several weeks leading up until now, but her last one really struck a chord with me; it really conveyed the feelings that seem to go unspoken throughout all of these preparations:

“they say, 'you must be excited'
have you packed?
and i say yes, smilingly, tossing my short hair.
but inside i wonder
how can i tell you, inquiring friend,
how can i tell you that overwhelmingly sometimes
i stop while walking in the street and when i imagine this place
all i can imagine is home. a familiarity that i can't even begin to describe;
an ancestral belonging. i am not going on a vacation
i am going on a pilgrimage to the very places i had hoped in my entire
childhood that i would go
and when i get there, i will be speechless.
because i will be home.”

I think that that’s all for now. In classic Bryn-style, I’m frantically completing readings and modules that need to be ready when I arrive at training in an hour. Thanks for checking in on me and I’ll try to update at least one more time before leaving the continent.

Take care,
Bryn

Basic Ghana Facts (from afar)

2006-04-08T16:52:00.000-03:00

Located in West Africa, Ghana is an very peaceful country often favoured by Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) because of its stability and co-orperative government.

Ghana became the first country in its region where Europeans arrived to trade when Portugal set up a trading settlement in 1482. Several hundred years later, in 1874, Britain declared the costal area of Ghana as a crown colony. Ghana achieved independence in 1957, making it the first black African nation in the region to achieve independence from its colonial power. Kwame Nkrumah was made the first prime minister and became its first president when Ghana became a republic in 1960. A series of political and military coups followed in the following 20 years, as Ghana became a one party state.

The most influential coup leader was Jerry Rawlings, whose first coup, in 1979, was short lived. However, he re-took power in 1981 and remained in power until 2000. Rawlings was an interesting ruler who refused to subscribe to any ideology. His social policies and advisors were all extremely leftist, while his economic policies have been described as conservative. When the USSR went under he quickly turned to the West and became very friendly with the IMF and the World Bank, which has been a great source of criticism and praise. In 1992 he set up a referendum to approve a new constitution introducing a multiparty system, wherein he was elected president.

In 1994 a wave of violence broke out in the Northern Region over a land dispute, fostering an eruption of ethnic violence between the Konkomba and the Nanumba as 1000 people are killed and another 150 000 displaced. There have been several other disputes since that time but the country is relatively stable, especially by sub-Saharan Africa’s standards.

In 2000, power was successfully transferred to the new president, John Kufuor, who has been peacefully re-elected since then. I've been trying to read at least one of the Ghanaian newspapers (http://www.ghanaian-chronicle.com/) regularly for the past couple months. The media in the country, from what I can tell, enjoys a high degree of freedom and can (and does) criticize the government.

And that's it for the boring details. I was going to write about the rich musical and cultural traditions, but I think that's something that I can only write about from the field when I'm fully immersed in them.

One important fact that I can't leave out is that Ghana is in the World Cup this year and that I'll be there when the excitement hits. Go Black Stars!

Introduction

2006-04-08T16:14:00.000-03:00

My name is Bryn Ferris and I just finished my second year here in Fredericton at the University of New Brunswick (UNB). I set up this blog because I will be spending this summer working abroad with Engineers Without Borders (EWB) in Ghana! As of right now my placement is with OXFAM's Rural Aid Action Programme (RAAP) where I'll be based around Jirapa in the Upper West region.

This journal is my way of sharing my experiences and keeping in touch with everyone, so please comment often!

Glossary:

2006-04-01T14:09:00.000-04:00

ActionAid – ActionAid is an international NGO that is a huge supporter of RAAP. (www.actionaid.org)

EWB – Engineers Without Borders Canada is the organisation who sent me on this placement. The group is comprised of a National Office Team and over 25 university chapters across

Canada

(I am involved with the UNB chapter).
National: www.ewb.ca UNB: unb.ewb.ca

LEADEC – LEADEC is a Leadership Centre that RAAP is currently building. The idea is to train RAAP staff, directors, and others local NGOs on leadership techniques and facilitation skills in order to build local capacity. LEADEC is also where I am staying over the summer.

MDGs – The Millennium Development Goals, which the world agreed set in 2000 to achieve by 2015. They are the guiding principles of all development work everywhere in the world. (http://www.undp.org/mdg/)

MPH – Make Poverty History, the campaign which Engineers Without Borders wholeheartedly supports at that brought major awareness events such as the Live 8 concerts last summer. www.makepovertyhistory.ca www.makepovertyhistory.org/video

NGOs – Non-Governmental Organisations who exist independently of any government and are, ideally, not to be used or manipulated politically. They are not-for-profit charitable organisations who are committed to improving the human condition. RAAP, EWB, and OXFAM are all examples of NGOs.

OXFAM – OXFAM is a major international NGO, whose UK branch is RAAP’s main supporter. www.oxfam.org.uk www.oxfam.ca

Play Your Part – A campaign that EWB began this year whose goal is similar to that of MPH but that is unique to EWB and focuses on what Canadians can do to help. www.playyourpart.ca

PRA/PLA – Participatory Rural Appraisal or, more recently, Participatory Learning and Action. They are the methodology at the core of REFLECT and, consequently, RAAP’s work.

RAAP – The Rural Aid Action Programme is the local NGO that I am working with over the summer. They are based out of Hain and Jirapa, two towns in the Upper West Region of Ghana. Their website, which Jude and I are currently creating, is located at [not done yet]

REFLECT - REFLECT stands for REgenerated Freirean Literacy through Empowering Community Techniques and is a community development tool to help communities identify their development opportunities/issues and act on them. There's an entry on it here .

UNB – The University of New Brunswick, where I am currently enrolled in the Renaissance College Interdisciplinary Leadership Program (minors in Math, Mechanical Engineering, and International Development Studies). www.unb.ca