Bring on the Rain!

When I arrived in Ghana in September, it was the end of the rainy season.  This meant that it rained occasionally, but there were plenty of hot, sunny days in between. What we would call winter is undeniably Ghana’s dry season.  Between Christmas and the middle of March when the volunteers left, it didn’t rain at all. Not even once. After that, it started to rain, every once in a while.

Since I returned from my week-long visit with my parents, the rainy season has hit with full force.  What does this mean?  Well, it means that it rains a lot (duh).  I would say that for day of sun, there is one day of overcastness and one day of rain.  Because of this, it’s also a lot cooler. The past couple nights, I’ve even had to sleep in socks to keep my feet warm! Granted, I don’t think it ever dropped below 70 degrees or so… but compared to the peak of the dry season, IT’S FREEZING! 

Aside from the actual weather patterns, the rainy season has had a pretty significant impact on my day-to-day life here in Tema. The following results range from trivial to potentially serious, but they’re all differences that I’ve noticed in the past several weeks.

1. My tan is gone! It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but I think that after spending a year in Ghana, I might come home a few shades paler than when I left the States. That’s not exactly what you expect from a year in Africa. But with so much rain, and so little sun, excursions and adventures outside just don’t really happen!
2. Doing wash can’t be taken for granted. Here everyone handwashes their clothes and hangs them to dry on lines outside. In the dry season, or even at the end of the year… there are plenty of dry, sunny days to for this method to work. But now, in the rainy season, often times a sunny morning will lead to a rainy afternoon. Or it will randomly start pouring in the middle of the night. Meaning that any clothes drying outside will get wet. It means that if I need to do laundry, I have to take advantage of every sunny day possible! 
3. Getting around is more difficult.  Where we stay is peri-urban. There are some gravel roads in the newer parts, but most of the roads and surrounding land is dirt.  It is unpleasant to walk in the rain, yes.  And because most people around here walk (it takes about 15 minutes to walk to catch a bus), when it rains, people just stay at home. But it’s also difficult to walk through mud.   It becomes a game of finding what I call the path of most resistance, or where the ground has remained the sturdiest and is the least saturated with water.
4. It is much harder to hold regular meetings. This is a corollary of the first point.  Since I returned from my trip, Jamie and I have tried to hold a MAC meeting every single Sunday.  I think we succeeded once (at the very beginning). Every other time, it has rained.  A couple of times it will be clear in the morning, allowing us to get our hopes up, only to begin pouring an hour or two before the meeting is supposed to start. Because of this, our progress has been slower than we would have liked.
5. School attendance is less regular. This is another corollary.  Rainy mornings mean a couple things. 1) Students and teachers often oversleep.  Because most people don’t use alarm clocks, they have just trained their bodies to wake up on time. Cooler, rainy mornings, often trick people into sleeping later, making them late for school.  2) If it’s raining, it’s difficult for teachers and students to get to school. While there are sometimes snow delays in the US, almost every time it storms, Manye essentially has an unofficial rain delay.

So while the changing of the seasons in Atlanta is little more than bringing out appropriate clothing or outerwear (or maybe bringing out the snow shovels in Hanover), in Ghana I’ve found that the changes actually affect the lives of me and the people around me. But hey, it’s all part of the adventure!

A Holiday Weekend (with Pictures!)

Many schools in Ghana have midterm breaks – essentially a long weekend that give students and teachers a chance to relax.  Manye very rarely has this, as the headmaster usually wants the kids to be in school as much as possible.  However, last week, we got lucky!  Because July 1^st was a holiday (Republic Day) , Mr K also gave the students Thursday off, giving us a four-day weekend (probably similar to what many of you all in the States had for the 4^th!)  Thursday was a very lowkey day – I did a little bit of work in the morning on our Grasscutter project, but then spent most of the afternoon/evening reading.

Friday was more fun! One of the teachers arranged a program at a beach in Ada (about 2 hours away).   We were supposed to leave at 8:30 am, at which point it was kind of overcast out. Luckily for us, things were functioning on Ghanaian time and we didn’t end up heading out until almost noon, by which point it was sunny and warm and perfect beach weather.

Once we arrived in Ada, we had to take a small boat to get to the specific beach that we wanted. There were about 15 of us together:  2 teachers, a few of their friends, Jamie, myself, David (Silver ’12, our summer volunteer), and then several others that we didn’t really know. The boat sat really low in the water, and I was pretty entertained seeing how nervous everyone got when the boat would rock a little, as many Ghanaians can’t swim.

some of the crew on the boat ride over

the kind of boat we were on... ours was named "Slow but Sure"

The afternoon we spent at the beach was fun! We ate tofu kebab’s prepared by Courage (his mom owns a tofu kebab company) and “buttah-bread” (aka bread w/ margarine), watched the guys play football on the beach, and even went swimming (first time I’ve gotten in the water when at the beach with Ghanaians).  Swim suits aren’t really something that Ghanaians wear… most guys wear shorts of some kind and wife beaters. Girls also wear shorts and tank tops/t-shirts. I just wore my dress. I ventured out into the “deep end” for a little bit and found myself engaged in several short races with locals.  Embarrassingly, I lost the first one… but I won every single one after that – I even threw in a few strokes of butterfly to see if I could still do it.  The answer? … Somehow. Even though the races were only about 15 yards each, I got tired pretty quickly. Apparently not swimming for more than a year really kills your endurance.

Once it started to cool off, we changed into dry clothes and exchanged in a favorite Ghanaian at-the-beach past time. Photoshoots. For about 45 minutes straight.

too close of Jamie and me on the beach

about half of us 

Afterwards, we took the boat back to the mainland and tro-tro’d it back to Tema, grabbed some rice and stew for dinner, and went to bed.

Saturday, I planned to head to the Akosombo Dam with David plus Jon (Brady ’14) and Kiki (Hocheder ’14), the volunteers over at NAP.  As luck would have it, Ben’s car wouldn’t start. David already wasn’t feeling well, so he decided to stay home.  I went to go and meet Jon and Kiki at the Ashaiman station so we could catch a trotro instead.

The trotro ride was about 2 hours (with one stop in Kpong to change cars).  When we got to the Akosombo station, the three of us decided that we didn’t really want to pay to go into the dam facilities, so we just paid a taxi driver to take us where we could get some pictures of it. Resourceful, eh?

Depending on your source, the Akosombo Dam might be the largest dam in West Africa. Or it blocks the largest man-made lake. Something along those lines. Given that the only other dam I’ve seen is the Hoover Dam (UNLV, Dec ’07) I was pretty impressed.

an unobstructed view of the dam

Kiki and Jon

DWSD ! 

On the way back, we ran into some more transportation issues:  Our trotro overheated.  After an hour of sitting on the side of the highway, Jon, Kiki, and I finally hailed down a car to take us back to Ashaiman/Tema.  One other man from the trotro joined us.  The man who picked us up was really nice and even went out of his way to drop us off closer to home.  I had the chance to chat with his son James, who was in P4 at a local public school. Everytime I asked him a question requiring a positive response, he said, “Of course” in the most adorable voice. Example: “Do you go to school?” “Of course”. After learning he was named after a Pentecost minister, “Do you go to a Pentecost Church” “Of course”.  “Do you like fufuo?” “Of course”. It was too cute.

chillin' on the side of the highway

Sunday was rainy and cold. Well, for Ghana.  It may have been 70 degrees, but Jamie and I were curled up under blankets all day. Another day of reading! Monday, which should have been the real holiday for us, was totally normal.  School resumed, I had work, and we didn’t do anything special to celebrate America’s birthday. Oh well. All in all it was a fun and relaxing weekend. 

School's Out For Summer

I'm really hoping that you just sang along to the title of this blog.

Actually, school is NOT out for summer in Ghana. Here, the schools have 3 trimesters, each about 14 weeks, and we are currently in the middle of the 3rd trimester.

What I'm referring to, of course, is US schools. And how did I know that they're out? (aside from looking at my calendar and facebook that is...)

Accra has been inundated with obrunis!

Last weekend, Jamie and I went to pick up the new WPE volunteers from the airport.  We stopped at the mall on the way there for the usual:  a trip to the bathrooms with flushing toilets and milk chocolate from the air-conditioned grocery store.  While we were people-watching in the food court, I realized just how many more young white people were around relative to what we normally see.

It makes sense.  Ghana, as a developing country with a stable government, is the recipient for a lot of volunteers.  And I imagine the vast majority of volunteers are high school and college students who use their summer vacations for the opportunity to travel, to make a difference, to be an agent of change.  As I was preparing for my arrival in September, it seemed like everywhere I turned, someone knew someone who had spent time in Ghana.  And technically, I myself, am a foreign volunteer working in Ghana, one who finds it hard to believe that a whole year has gone by since I graduated from Dartmouth (how did this happen?). So in many ways, I'm not any different from the hordes of people arriving for the summer.

But seeing the many new arrivals made me realize two things.  1)  I've been here (in Ghana) a long time.  Long enough to be able to notice changes in the foreign population. 2) I've really come to see Ghana (specifically, Tema) as one of the places that I could consider "home" (along with Marietta and Hanover).  I have habits about where I buy certain products, I have routines regarding how I spend my time.   It's rare that I do something extremely new or different or something that completely shakes up my world.  For the most part, life here is just life. (And I mean that in a good way -- I have never been a fan of unnecessary excitement or drama).  My time here has made this community a part of my life, a part of me. Even if, to the average Ghanaian, I still look like just another obruni.

Baby Booming

Yesterday evening, as I was sitting in a classroom waiting for Mr. Kabutey so that we could begin our training session, I remembered something that he said back in the fall.  When I had just arrived, I engaged in many a discussion with him about education in Ghana, the students at Manye, and the challenges that they face.  One thing that struck me as odd was his view of female education.  I distinctly remember him saying, “We need them to stay in school.  We don’t want them to get pregnant.”  I remember thinking, “Wow. This man is so clearly from an older generation.  Girls don’t just get pregnant and stop going to school anymore.” …

Since my arrival at Manye, two female students have become pregnant and proceeded to drop out of school. Not out of high school. Out of junior high. One, out of JHS 1, the equivalent of 7^th grade. The other out of JHS 3 (9^th grade). Earlier this week I heard that another girl in JHS 1 has already had an abortion.  Even though they aren’t exactly legal. Three girls, out of 25. That’s a lot.

And to be honest, for the life of me, I don’t think I can explain to you why this rate is so high.  Sexual education in Ghana is undoubtedly more comprehensive than in the United States. (Disclaimer, my experience with sex ed was entirely at a public school in Georgia, meaning all we covered was puberty, its accompanying physical changes, and STIs).  Students here not only cover the topics above, but also prostitution (this one comes up a lot), wet dreams, condoms and their effectiveness in preventing AIDS and other STIs. Even older men taking advantage of younger girls and the importance of not listening to those creeps (creeps is my word).  And this is just what I’ve observed.

At the same time, premarital sex is highly condemned. And girls in junior high and high school are told by society that they shouldn’t have boyfriends, that they should just be thinking about school, their education and God. Students can get in trouble at school if a teacher or headmaster finds out that they have a boyfriend. Or if they find out that they are even flirting with boys.

Well, clearly, they’re still having sex. It makes me wonder – by condemning romantic activity at all, do girls (and guys) fail to see the difference between kissing and going much farther?  Is it the mentality that, “I’m not supposed to kiss, but since I have, I might as well have sex?” And even I want to accept sex as normal 13-year-old behavior (which I’m not sure I’m ready to do), is its social taboo preventing the participants from buying condoms? From what I’ve observed, most of these oh-so-young girls are not engaging in this behavior with their peers --the guys are usually older. Does this age difference create a harmful power dynamic that prevents girls from making demands (like condom use)? Does law and religion prevent girls from choosing to get an abortion if they have the means?

Whatever the reason that these girls end up accidentally pregnant, I think it sucks. I think it sucks that the rest of their lives will be affected by this one event. That their education is cut short by their personal life. That their job opportunities are limited from stopping school.  That their self-esteem is rattled by the community’s censure. It sucks that I hear the young women labeled as “bad girls” – when their male counterparts are pointedly ignored.  It even sucks that it took me 6 months to realize how bad the situation is, to get worked up enough to blog about it. In fact, I don’t think there’s a single thing about it that doesn’t suck.  

License to Kill?

Like 90% of the US population, I consider myself to be a “better-than average” driver. Just kidding! All things considered, I’m probably pretty average.  My reflexes are decent (inherited from my father). I get great gas mileage.  And I am pretty good about only braking when necessary (which contributes to the good gas mileage).  I will admit, it was tough learning to drive stick shift. But, I did just peachy learning to drive on the left side of the road while I was in South Africa.

In full disclosure, one area I must admit that I struggle with is spacial awareness. Judging where my bumper is in relation to a curb or another car can be tough. Luckily for me, my car, and my insurance, I usually err on the side of caution, thinking I’m about 2 inches from something when it’s actually a foot away.

Here in Ghana, I must be in the minority.  Drivers here squeeze through gaps in traffic leaving only the smallest amount of space on either side. Trotros drive on the shoulders, cutting in at the last minute to avoid as much traffic as possible. The sheer skill (or aggression) is almost beautiful when it happens well.  But looking at it critically, it’s disastrous. It’s a miracle that there aren’t accidents every 5 minutes.  It's like the jungle. But instead of eat or be eaten, it's cut off or be cut off.

So there are accidents. Often. And occasionally, people die. One evening, on our way home from Accra, Jamie and I noticed that across the road, a trotro had crashed into a truck. Our taxi driver pulled the car over to see what happened – and there were two people dead laying in the shoulder.

The point of this entry is not to expound on the horrors of driving in Ghana. Or to criticize the seeming blatant dismissal of the “rules of the road”.  To be honest, a lot of the practices remind me of the way people drive in Atlanta.  (When I told my boss that, he was horrified by us Southerners.) My point is that we’re not all that different. Apparently so far this year there have been only 734 deaths from traffic accidents in Ghana.  In 2008 in the US, about 19,000 people died from car crashes in the first half of the year.  But there are about 250 million cars in the US, and only about 1.1 million in Ghana. So conclude from that what you will. 

I would rather focus on this: a few driving situations handled differently than in the States.

1. Roundabouts (aka Traffic Circles):  The right of way seems to belong to those entering the roundabout, not those already inside it.
2. Rubbernecking:  This is taken to the extreme in Ghana. People don’t just slow down the way they do in the States. Here, they pull over, get out, and walk over to the accident.  And this isn’t just people in their own cars – people driving other people do it too.  Once, when we were on a trip with students in a trotro, I literally had to instruct the trotro driver (who had been an hour late picking us up) not to stop to look at an accident on the side of the highway.
3. Traffic lanes:  These exist, sort of.  On the biggest roads, there are often two lanes on each side of the divider. But on any and every other road, lane designations are subject to interpretation.  This  applies in particular to dirt roads, which abound in and around Tema.  In a taxi, you might double your traveled distance between destinations because your driver is winding back and forth across the road, trying to avoid mud puddles, especially bumpy areas, slower moving vehicles, etc.

Needless to say, I see driving in Ghana as an adventure. Tomorrow, my boss is returning to the States for 2 weeks, and in the mean time, I will be responsible for driving our staff anywhere we need to go (that isn’t more easily/cheaply reached by trotro or taxi). Thanks to my newly-received International Driving Permit (thanks Dad – I bet you’re wishing you didn’t get it for me, right?) So, wish me luck as I endeavor to weave my way both through the unpaved streets of Tema and Ashaiman and the unique driving culture here in Ghana. 

Grasscutters -- Not Lawnmowers

So far I've written very little about the actual work that I do here in Ghana.  Mostly this is intentional.  This is a personal blog that I'm using to share my thoughts with friends and family, so I'm being pretty candid, sharing the good and the not-so-good parts.  In work, just as in life, there are moments of good and there are moments of not-so-good.  However, I'm the member of a generation who is constantly hearing the message, "Don't write about your boss/students/coworkers/company(insert any work-related entity here) on the internet. It is public, it is permanent, and it will come back to bite you in the ass." But it's not as if I'm just living in Ghana -- I am actually working, so I figure to have a true picture of my life, I should include some examples of my work. 

One of original assignments back in the fall was to create a School Improvement Team (SIT).  Basically, this is a group of parents, teachers, students, administrators, community members who collaborate to find creative solutions to school problems. Manye's SIT is called the MAC, Manye Advancement Committee, and back in November, they decided that they wanted to start a grasscutter farm at the school.  Now, this isn't as crazy as it sounds. First of all, grasscutters are not lawnmowers -- they are a large rodent whose meat is considered a delicacy here in Ghana. They are named grasscutters for their large teeth which cut the grass that they eat, and grasscutter rearing is a newly developing and profitable industry (actively encouraged by the Ghanaian government). 

(googled image of a grasscutter)

Given the abundance of challenges at Manye, you might wonder what makes this a solution? Well, to put it bluntly, Manye's problems all come down to money.  I'm not saying that inundating the school with money will solve the problem, because it won't. First, the money has to be used effectively, and the money has to be a stepping stone, or leverage to implement other changes that will improve the quality of teaching and learning. But those changes can't really happen without money. At least at Manye, and here is why:  when I arrived in the fall, the school was struggling to raise enough from school fees to pay the salaries of the teachers. Try asking a teacher who hasn't been paid in 6 weeks (and whose monthly salary is only about $80 to begin with) to stay late to learn new ways of teaching. Try justifying spending money on teaching and learning materials (like maps, books, science equipment), when employees aren't being paid. 

But let's get to the point. The MAC decided to start a grasscutter farm to breed and sell grasscutters, and then use the money to provide scholarships to committed but financially challenged students.  Hopefully these scholarships will both encourage students and supplement the school's finances. 

ANYWAY... yesterday, the first grasscutters arrived! 3 males and 3 females, which will soon be joined by 6 more females.

(Prince and Rockson helping transport the cages from the fabricator to Manye)

(Mawusi, Tetteh, Elorm, Rockson, and Sir Sam helping set up the cages)

(Alex and Mr. Tamaklo and 4 of our grasscutters in their special transportation cage)

Here are some fun facts about grasscutters that I never would have known without this project. 

• A male grasscutter can mate with up to 4 or 5 females.
• Grasscutters eat maize stalks, cassava sticks and peels, elephant grass, and a variety of other scrap foods. 
• Grasscutters don't need water to live! Just kidding, they do.  But they often manage to get enough water just from the foods they eat. (Ours are going to have water bowls, just to be safe). 
• Grasscutters are indestructible.  They don't get sick, they don't die, they don't have any problems. Once again, just kidding. But this was one argument used by a parent who was lobbying for the grasscutter project back in the fall. Pretty impressive sounding, isn't it? 

Getting into the field of "educational consulting," I thought I would be spending most of my time dealing with teachers and students, teaching and learning with some management thrown in.  I never knew that I'd learn about animal husbandry and I never imagined I'd become familiar with an animal whose name sounds like a teenager's summer job. But something I've learned is that education is not as simple and telling kids to attend school and teaching teachers to teach.  Each community or school has its own characteristics that may create deep-seated obstacles to these desired outcomes.  In the States, you probably wouldn't see animal rearing as a way to improve the quality of education... But here, it often takes unorthodox (aka WEIRD) ideas to solve problems.  And the fun part of my job is seeing these creative solutions actually get put into place.

 =) 

Game On

On Friday afternoons, many Ghanaian schools end classes early (at second break, around 1:30pm) and have something called Games for the last hour and a half of school.  Now, my experience is limited to Manye, NAP and stories about other schools from friends, but I am confident, the activities that occur during Games period vary pretty greatly depending on the school and it's organization.

Manye tends fall into the more "unorganized" category.  Often, Games is just a synonym for extended recess, where kids run around, or the headmaster, Mr. Kabutey, will have kids work on the school farm.  Once, there was an essay-writing contest; once they spent the whole hour arranging the kids into four sections (like teams) that will be used for various activities; once they held elections for prefects.  

Yesterday was a bit of an exception -- Games period was used for a Quiz Bowl. Two contestants each from P1, P2, and P3 sat on a bench behind a table and took turns answering questions asked by Sir Eric, the math teacher.  The top 4 entertaining moments from the afternoon were as follows:

4.  A group of 5 or 6 P1 students kept trying to help out their classmates by jumping up and down and mouthing the correct answers (or at least what they thought were the correct answers). 

3.  Sir Ashitey, the P2 teacher, yelled at some misbehaving students to "SMILE," because if they didn't, they wouldn't go to America. 

2.  Several of the boys in P5, P6, and JHS 1 tried to stump me on math problems.  When one of them told me to write 25% as a fraction in its lowest form, I wrote 1/4 on the paper.  They then all yelled, "Madam, you must show your workings!"

1.  Sir Eric asked the P3 contestants to fill in the blanks/provide the complete word:  A - D - J - __ - C - T - __ - V - E.  Jamie couldn't do it.

On Complacency and Volunteers

Part of the reason that my blog slowed down is that after living here in Ghana for several months, my life started to have routines. I had gotten over much of the excitement of being in a “new place”.  I stopped thinking about “exploring Ghana” and just was thinking about living my life here, much as I would in the States.   

The arrival of 3 volunteers from Dartmouth in January helped with this sense of complacency.  They reminded me of all the new and exciting things Ghana had to offer.  During the time that they were here, I tried fufuo ne nkatinkwan (fufuo with groundnut soup), bought Ghanaian fabric and had clothes made, visited Cape Coast and learned about the history of the slave trade, and (for the first time) ate mangoes.  Respectively, I found those experiences 1) surprisingly tasty and no where near as scary as Katrina had led me to believe; 2) fun, relatively inexpensive, and unfortunately addicting; 3) interesting and sad, more accusatory of African slave traders than Europeans/Americans, and much larger in South America/the Caribbean than the US (not quite how I remember learning about it in school); and 4) SOOOOO GOOD – Jenn, I’m sorry for never listening all those times you tried to convince me to try mango.

Having three more girls around meant that Jamie and I were also able to indulge in some more traditional American (and not necessarily Ghanaian) pastimes.  We giggled over episodes of Sex and the City, shared experiences from our time at Dartmouth, and reminisced about all the good American food we missed.  As the volunteers were much newer to the country, we also talked a lot about Ghana, its educational system, its culture – all things that I might normally write about it my blog.  However, having discussed these issues with the girls, I found I didn’t really feel the compulsion to write it all out again. Flushing it out orally with peers gave me a sense of peace and understanding that eliminated my emotional need for a blog.

Our volunteers left in March.  Right after that, I experienced a wake of homesickness that made me realize how much I enjoyed spending time with people who have shared similar life experiences. Now, I'm not saying that it's bad to branch out, or to spend time with people who are different from you.  I think it's incredibly important. And to be honest, I thought I had done that at Dartmouth (and to a smaller extent, even in high school).  But what I didn't realize was that just by going to Dartmouth, sharing that experience of being a university student in the United States, (and being among a limited population of Americans in Ghana) all the people I met there FEEL more similar to me than different.  And I realized how comforting it is to be in a place or with people where you don't always feel different. No matter how self-confident you are, it's always nice to fit in. 

The Prodigal Blogger

So, it has been almost four months since my last blog post.  Oops!  Anyone who has ever looked at my childhood diaries (which I actually hope is no one) should realize that I don’t exactly have a good track record with journaling. Throughout my [pre-]adolescence, I would diligently enter my thoughts and emotions every couple days for about 2 weeks, and then six months or a year would pass before my next entry. So I personally wasn’t too surprised when I found it hard to keep up with these entries, as much as I enjoy writing them.

To be honest, I had actually given up my blog as lost… but recent events (three in particular) have inspired me to begin again and to continue on as conscientiously as possible.

1. I took a 10 day vacation with my parents.  After meeting in Rome, we embarked on an amazing cruise of the Eastern Mediterranean, which involved an abundance of four of my favorite things in life:  cheese, ancient ruins/Greek mythology, olives, red wine.  On this trip my parents subtly reminded me that some people do read my blog and have been wondering why I haven’t posted anything. Recent event #1.
2.  Upon my return to Ghana, Jamie and I realized that we only have 11 weeks left here in Ghana. (76 days as I write this).  I realized that there is still so much that I want to do and see here in this wonderful country, and that I don’t have as much time to do it (or write about it) as I thought.  Recent event #2.
3.  I learned that Katy (the consultant from NAP) has also been keeping a blog, but that she just recently shared it with friends/family back home. After some sneaky googling, I found her blog.  Not that I’m competing with her, but reading her entries reminded me of all the day-to-day stuff that I still haven’t explained to family and friends. And how many of the stories that I share with my coworkers will have been forgotten by the time I return home in August. Recent event #3.

So, consider this the renaissance of my blog. I’ll do a couple quick summary entries here at the beginning to update everyone on what’s been happening in the past several months, as well as the adventures I hope to have as my time in Ghana comes to a close.

P.S. About the title of this entry:  for the longest time, I assumed that in the parable of “The Prodigal Son,” the word prodigal referred to the fact that the son came home. (Hence, the pun emphasizing my return to the life of blogging).  One day, however, I decided to look it up (just to check), and discovered that I was wrong. (After seeing my unremarkable GRE Verbal scores, I shouldn't have been surprised at my error).  Using the nifty thesaurus on my MacBook, I found the following as some of the synonyms listed for prodigal: extravagant, spendthrift, profligate, imprudent, generous, lavish, unsparing, abounding in, abundant in, rich in.  Outside of that specific biblical reference, prodigal actually refers to someone who does something in excessive or to the extreme.  

Once again – oops!

I chose this title, despite it's potential inaccuracy, to emphasize my "homecoming" to my blog and with the hopes that in my remaining 11 weeks, I will actually come to embody this moniker through many many posts!  

A Moral Education or Amoral Education?

Jamie and I are currently in one of the most important steps of our baseline data collection process: observing teachers and classrooms to evaluate the quality of teaching.  Each teacher is being observed twice, as randomly as possible.  Yesterday, we were observing Religious and Moral Education (called RME) in JHS 2 (equivalent to 7/8^th grade). 

Now, RME is a very interesting subject.  Given its name, one might think that it involves discussions of different religious and moral codes.   Not so much.  I think a more appropriate name for this course would be “Ghanaian Traditional Culture,” because students learn about the different codes of behavior and expectations of the various tribes in Ghana.

Below is a sample of the notes that the students took on the day’s subject:  Acestors.

Qualifications:

1. Must be dead and have entered the spirit world. 
2. Must not have died from the following diseases:
1. Leprosy
2. Epilepsy
3. Must not have committed suicide.
4. Good to have died as a war hero.
5. Must have lived to a ripe old age (according to class consensus, that means 70)
6. Must have married and have had children.

Importance:

1. Ancestors are a link between the living and spirit worlds.
2. Ancestors set good examples for the living.
3. Ancestors are unseen guests at family gatherings.
4. Ancestors are called upon to settle family disputes.

What I found most compelling from this class was not the emphasis on the spirit world, or the fact that leprosy/epilepsy/suicide were dealbreakers.  It was instead the fact that these students were effectively learning about their own culture in a class.

I usually think of culture as something that an individual experiences throughout his or her life, a collection of traditions, beliefs, and thought systems that are acquired with time.  It’s not something that one can learn in a classroom. Or is it? Maybe I’m wrong, and reaffirming culture in school helps to preserve it in the face of a changing society.  Either way, it raises the question:  how does traditional Ghanaian culture fit in with the modern lifestyles of Ghanaian youth?

It’s really a doozie of a question. There isn’t one answer – even among the teachers and students here, there is great variation among how much people adhere to traditional values, and which values are prioritized.  Some things are pretty standard: greeting is very important, deference to elders as well.  In fact, students and children as a whole don’t get a lot of respect.  It makes me wonder, if education is empowerment, and tradition dictates that children remain powerless, is my work to further quality education actually working to suppress Ghanaian culture? 

Please, Please, Pay My Fees

I happen to be a proud product of the United States Public School System.  With the exception of a few years at a Montessori pre-school, my parents never had to pay for my primary education.  And all things considered, I think I turned out pretty well.

Here in Ghana, it’s rare to hear someone be proud of the public school system.  “Government schools,” as they are called, are universally considered as inferior to the nations numerous private schools. Why are government schools so much worse?  One thing to consider is class size – at many government schools, class sizes often reach 60 or 70 students, especially in rural areas.  However, the main reason usually cited for low quality of education is the teachers.  This is somewhat ironic, because the teachers at government schools are required to go a Teacher Training College, whereas private schools have the ability to hire whomever they wish. In theory, teachers at government schools are more prepared and qualified to teach.  But if you ask anyone in Ghana, they say those teachers are bad, because of a lack of oversight.  Private schools, which are often for-profit, monitor their teachers closely. But government schools lack both the infrastructure and the incentives to monitor their teachers, resulting in decreased effort.

This explains why many of the USAID programs, which work solely with government schools in Ghana, focus on school oversight and management.   It also explains why most parents will, if at all possible, send their kids to private schools, even if they struggle to pay for them.

At Manye in particular, the payment of school fees is one of the school’s major problems.  Current rates are as follows:  40 GHC/term for Nursery/KG; 50 GHC/term for Primary; 60 GHC/term for JHS.  Last term, inflows from school fees were only 65% of where they should have been.  Which means that this term, the school opened with almost 4,000 GHC worth of arrears owed to the school.

Manye is a non-profit school, because the proprietor is trying to provide education to the poorer families in the community.  This is great, because some of the families around here really can’t afford the 50 GHC/term for each kid. Unfortunately, there are many families who can afford the fees, but just don’t pay them because they can sort of get away with it.

It’s a very interesting situation, which manifests itself with management and teachers perpetually trying to convince students to bring money to the school.  I want to close this entry with a particularly poignant example. After practicing their alphabet and the two letter words that they already know, the KG class practiced the following song, complete with actions:

Please, please, pay my fees

Please, please pay my fees

I want to be a doctor

I want to be a pilot

Please, please, pay my fees

Please, please, pay my fees

I want to go to America

America, America

I want to go to America

Please, please, pay my fees

UnbeWEAVEable

Today, I got my hurr did. Like a Ghanaian.

It all started out back in September, when Jamie and I started talking about getting our hair braided at some point while we were here.  The kids like to play around with it, but I really wanted to try getting it done professionally, so that it would actually look good.

Irene, our local shopkeeper/best friend, is a woman of many talents: she also happens to be a hair-dresser.  She told me that if I wanted to get my hair done baako baako (one one -- aka not cornrows), then I would need to use a weave, because I simply do not have enough hair.  For those who don't know, "weave" is essentially fake hair that is woven into the real hair to increase volume or change color.

Now, the idea of using weave made me nervous  -- to start with, I had visions of myself with black hair, looking incredibly stupid. Second, I remembered Emily telling me how weave smells really bad (I hadn't noticed this...).  So the idea of getting our hair done became a joke that sort of faded into the background.

Until December 27. Jamie and I were at Makola (a huuuuuuge market in Accra) and happened to see some blonde weave. It was too expensive (8 GHC for a short one!), but it reignited the idea in our minds.  Then, a couple weeks later in Tema, we found a blonde and a reddish weave, each only 3 GHC. I promptly bought them, and set up an appointment with Irene to do my hair.

This morning, I left the house looking like this:

An hour later, Jamie came by to check on the progress... All I had were a few braids and a whole lot of messy hair:

Irene was speedy speedy speedy with her hands. Here we are already working in the second half of the weave that I bought.

After 2.5 hours, still not the finished product... at this point, I felt like a mermaid. The front ended up being more red than intended because we ran out of weave! And had to work in a extra red one with the remaining blonde.  Jamie is really excited for all the braids to be in:

The finished product! (after about 5 hours)

For the next 3 weeks, I don't have to wash my hair!! We'll see how long I make it before I cave and try to wash it...

THE topic of the tropics: Malaria

When people heard I was coming to Ghana for a year, I got many many questions about malaria. Did I know if it was a concern here? [yes, I knew that yes, it is].  Had I gotten vaccinated for it? [no, there's no vaccination].  Was I going to die? [this is a slight exaggeration]. What could I do to protect against it? [bug spray, mosquito nets, anti-malarials]

Now the first two of those preventions methods were totally fine (and mandatory) for me.  And many thanks to the input of Emma and Mrs. Lochery for recommending a DEET-free and very pleasant smelling bug spray (well, lotion) that I love!

But I had a thing about anti-malarials.

I don't like medicine. I don't like taking pills. At all. Just ask my mother. I don't like it because I find it hard to remember and somewhat unpleasant.  And I also don't like it on a more philosophical scale because, most of the time, I'm never really sick enough to truly need medicine. And so I'd hate to use it now, and then when I'm older, frailer, with a weaker immune system, realize that I've been popping too many pills my whole life to get any effectiveness out of them. 


So for me, the decision about anti-malarials was a tough one. I had support on both sides:  my sister (among others) was convinced I would get  malaria and die if I didn't take them, whereas some former coworkers who had lived in similar climates with the same risks were confident that they weren't necessary. 


Long story short... I brought 3 months worth of anti-malarials with me. I took my Malarone religiously for my first month. Then the climate started to dry out, I stopped getting bit by as many mosquitos, and I decided I would rather save them for the rainy season (summer) when there were many more mosquitos around. 

And then I got malaria [we think]. And then I got better.

My experience with malaria was really quite mild.  I had a fever and was really achy and tired. And that's about it. I lounged around in bed for 2.5 days, took my medicine like a good patient, and recovered. But I never saw a doctor, never actually made sure that my blood tested positive for malaria. Here in Ghana, they don't really do that.  Because malaria is usually the more dangerous/painful of the fever-causing possibilities, they start treating for that immediately. And while it's not a perfect solution (especially to those of us who much prefer to know exactly what is wrong with us) it definitely worked out for the best. I didn't have to go anywhere to get looked at, which is fantastic, because all I wanted to do was lay down. 


I'm happy to say that I feel pretty fully recovered now (I first started feeling sick Tuesday night)... I just have a good excuse not to go jogging for a few more days =) 

Time to Start the Donuts. I Mean... Trimester

Happy New Year everyone! Or, as they say in Twi, Afi hyia pa!

I’m going to open this blog with a very generalized sentence that should be taken with as little judgment as possible:  time functions very differently here in Ghana than it does in the States.

Yesterday (Tuesday  4 January) was the first day back for Manye.  In the States, the first day of school, either for the year, or for the term, is a pretty big deal. Kids pick out a special outfit, everyone gets to share stories about the break, no one has homework… that first day is filled with energy and excitement. Not so much here in Ghana. Out of the 200 or so students at the school, only about 25 showed up on the first day back. And several teachers weren’t here either. Some of the classes were combined, but not much was taught because 90% of students weren’t there.  This situation happened when I first arrived in September as well.  Attendance was minimal at first, but increased steadily over the first two weeks. By the Monday of the third week, attendance was up to normal.  

I assumed (or rather, hoped) that the beginning of the second term would be different than the beginning of a whole new school year.  Apparently, I was wrong.  In hindsight, it makes sense, because, as I said above, time functions differently here in Ghana than it does in the States.

Start times, deadlines, durations, appointments, travel times… all of these are much more flexible here.  If something is supposed to start at 9am, chances are it won’t start until 10 or 10:30. Similarly, if someone says it takes 30 minutes to get somewhere, plan on it taking about 2 hours. If someone says they will do something “tomorrow,” they’re probably actually thinking “I understand that you think this is important. I’ll do it when I get around to it.”  

For the most part, it’s pretty easy to adapt.  For myself, I would rather be early (on time) than be the one everyone is waiting for.   So you bring something with you (book, iPod, etc) for entertainment; more often however, Jamie and I use each other for entertainment. It’s something to joke about – being on “Ghana time” – and it seems pretty harmless, if inefficient.

But in many ways, it’s also a self-fulfilling prophecy.  People don’t want to be on time, because they’ll be the only ones.  And even if one is on time, most things don’t start then anyway. So those who are punctual are in fact punished because society caters to those who follow a more flexible time system.

How does this apply to education?  Manye’s school day officially starts at 8am, with the Morning Assembly.  JHS students have extra morning classes, and they’re also supposed to listen to a short radio program at 6:45am, so they’re supposed to come earlier.  But instead of telling students to be on time at either 6:45 or 8am, management tells students to come at 6:30 or 7. A few kids do this, and they have the chance to read or do homework before everyone else arrives.  But for the most part, kids show up when they finish their morning chores and can get to school.  

Another example: PTA meetings usually start at 3pm.  At my first one, there were only about 15 people here at 3pm, but by 4:30, when the meeting was in full swing, there were closer to 75.  In November, some parents managed to show up early, so management decided to start the meeting 30 minutes ahead of schedule. To most of us in the States, where scheduling is a way of life, this seems crazy and frustrating. And yea, sometimes it drives me crazy. 

But how can you blame kids for being late to school when many families don’t have clocks and even those who don’t usually don’t use them for alarms? Where there’s no cultural precedent for paying attention to specifics of time? You can’t. All you can do is set an example: show up on time and positively reinforce the behavior of those students (and parents) who do come on time.  Which is what Jamie and I try to do. And try to encourage the school to do as well. But it’s definitely an uphill battle.