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.