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.