Ghanaian Al-Hassan

Long Term Placement in Canada

2006-08-22T05:14:00.000-04:00

The time has flown way too quickly for me to handle. The last two months have been a blur. I'm sitting in an internet cafe in the capital of Ghana, Accra, with just hours left before my flight.

I'v just gotten the word from Louis. I have been accepted for a long-term placement in Windsor, ON, Canada. My partner organisation is Engineers Without Borders Canada and my goal for the placement: Make Canada the most pro-development nation on earth. Seems easy enough.

The biggest decision I have to make right now is what I will eat for lunch. Should I get banku or kenkey, easily available in the south, or should I seek out some TZ, which could take hours. It will be years before I get to enjoy my favourite foods again. There are rumours from others who have visited North America that a majority of the foods they consume are processed.

People have to buy food and goods from corporations who sell items in large warehouses called supermarkets. You can't walk down the street and buy a fresh pineapple or coconut. There are no street vendors or market stalls to buy fresh meat or vegetable any time of day. If I want an egg omelette, I have to go to a restaurant! There are no street vendors who sell them all day and night.

Also, I've heard that Canadians hardly greet each other. How then do they form relationships with their neighbors? What must their communities be like if they don't sit around the street drinking porridge or pito (maize beer)? How then do they communicate?

How do Canadians get their food? I met a Canadian once and he told me there were very few farmers in Canada. Do most people understand or know where their food comes from? Do they know which foods are imported, and which are prevented from being imported due to tarriffs and subidies? Do Canadians know how their country treats coffee or wheat or milk producers in other nations?

My Canadian friend also told me that any time they turn on the tap, it is always running. He also told me that electricity is in good supply and rarely cuts out. People don't have bucket showers, but rather hot showers right from the taps. Not very many people have to fetch water, and on average a Canadian uses over 150L of water a day!

I don't believe what these Canadians have told me, but I will see for myself tomorrow when I arrive in Toronto, the capital of Ontario. My placement will probably last quite some time, as the task I have been assigned is quite large. From the time of arrival, however, I will be counting down the days until my return to beautiful Ghana.

Damongo Snaps

2006-08-14T06:42:00.000-04:00

A collection of photos from Damongo, to serve as an introduction to the community which has been my home for three months.

The mosque that Al-Haji built. My Neighbour, Al-Haji, spent the majority of the last three months constructing a mosque between our houses. Often, with some free time in the afternoon or a lazy Sunday, I would help weave the palm leaf roof, or set branch trusses. It was an incredible experience to learn local building techniques which have provided shelter for hundreds of years.
Goats love to climb. They love the feeling of being up high. So if there is a pile of rocks, or a misplaced log, or even a fast moving pile of sand, be assured that it will have one or several goats clamouring to be "King of the Mountain." It is assumed that if you bend over to tie your shoes, you will have a goat on your back before you know it. That is why everyone in Ghana wears sandals. True story.
This tree has an interesting story. After falling over almost 20 years ago, the lower branches became sheep fodder while the upper branches slowly turned skyward, and the newly exposed roots slowly turned towards the now-distant ground. The result is a fascinating tree near the cassava centre that provides ample shade and roofing for our group's meetings and training sessions.

Black & White

2006-08-14T06:35:00.000-04:00

This indepth report on race and its classifications of myself and other JFs lacks the political correctness that would censor a similar work in another environment. We are, after all, merely a product of our surroundings.

THE CULTURE OF MONOCULTURE

The warnings were present at our pre-departure sessions in Ghana; from here-in, everyone would be referred to as white, no matter what their background or cultural heritage, which in the case of this round of JF's, was as diverse as the various communities from which we had originated.

Disregarding this info, I was expecting people to be able to differentiate my white colleagues from myself on the ground, but what I discovered shocked me.

Obruni & Salaminga are terms used to define white people, and calling any one of the JFs this term upon our arrival back in Canada will surely result in a back-handed slap to some portion of the head, after hearing the term profusely for the last four months. Either that, or the person will respond automatically without a second-thought.

Such a blatant recognition, or dis-classification of race is a rare and impossible occurrence in Canada, whose extreme political correctness cloaks any obvious recognition of physical differentiation. Such is not the case in Ghana, especially in rural areas.

Upon arriving in Ghana, I was surprised that what they had told me at Pre-Dep was correct; I would be confused with a white person on a regular basis. Few people would detect my Indian heritage, and when they did, they would refer to me as 'India-man' hardly less jolting than being referred to as white.

In the first weeks and months, travelling to the north from Accra and throughout the Northern Region, I became accustomed to several different terms for 'white man', ranging from obruni, to salaminga, to local terms for Sunday-born, which should have prepared me for the name I received upon my arrival in Damongo:

KYLE BAPTISTA = WHITE PRIEST?

From my initial days exploring my new home, the children's calls perplexed me.

"Kobruni Fatha" they would scream with huge grins on their face, in as high a pitch as possible without making my ears bleed, often followed by an equally high-pitched "hallow!"

The english term, loosely translated is 'white priest', which, just like the term Sunday-born, hails to Ghana's Colonial and Missionary past in which the first white settlers were primarily focused on religious conquerings and assimilation. The fact that it was being stated by the youngest of children was proof that it is a term still taught in the schools and in the home, and generally, any presence of whites in these rural areas had primarily religious purposes for the past century.
Why this term is used in Damongo is beyond me. Damongo sees its share of Westerners thanks to Mole National Park, which sits just 25kms down a dusty trail to the north. These people rarely leave the bus, however, and buy oranges and water through the window to the women who have the baskets propped on their heads making for an easy transaction.

Even more astonishing (and further evidence that the term white is a blanket term to cover people who are not black) was the continued confusion between myself, and a UVic JF, Dan Beck, who also calls Damongo his home. On book-swapping or battery-charging trips to his home, I would enter his neighborhood, and often be greeted with: "Dan Aninwulaa", or "Good Evening Dan". People could not differentiate us, even though when seated together, similarities are hard to come by.

Dan encountered the same phenomenon when walking down the dirt path to my home, often hearing "Kyle Maraaba", or "Kyle welcome!" Even in the market it became a problem when one would be referred to as the other. An attempted explanation in our poor Gonja would simply bring a look of confusion and dismay upon the person who was greeting us in the first place.

Despite the inability to differentiate non-blacks, many people have absolutely no problem spotting a Westerner from the furthest distance, or in the poorest light. Even I, whose tanned brown skin has darkened several shades since my arrival in May, am noticeable in the darkest evenings when the moon is blocked by the cumulus clouds of the rainy season and my visibility extends not an inch beyond my eyes. In night time situations where it is hard to discern ground from open sewer, I step carefully, and it is perhaps my awkward movements that make me so obvious to those around me. "Kyle Aninwulaa" says my neighbor, who I didn't even know was there until she spoke, seemingly into my ear, causing me to jump. "Awoo", I say, stuttering from surprise, in cordial response to a Gonja greeting.

Whether it is night-vision or obruni radar, the classifications placed on my shoulders have been pretty interesting for the last four months. Even more so considering that India is the second-largest investor in Ghana, and other noticeably different cultures, such as Lebanon, China, and Japan, are well represented. Perhaps it is evidence of the lack of foreign investment in the north, or the low levels of interaction between foreigners and rural Ghanaians.

Whatever the case may be, we are but a product of our surroundings, regardless of the colour of our skin.

The Poverty Sampler Pack

2006-08-13T07:30:00.000-04:00

First, a note about the text below. This is meant merely as a specific look at circumstances which I have encountered at specific times regarding the general definition of poverty. It is not an indepth look into average Ghanaian life. It is a description, however inaccurate, of how millions of people survive, and the staggering numbers which hold humanity by the neck. This is the Poverty Sampler Pack.

3 billion people all share one condition: Poverty.

Under varying circumstances, poverty is a blanket term which is used to describe the lack of opportunities which face almost half of the entire planet's population for one reason or another.

SANITATION

There was a glaring omission in my indepth accommodations report from last month. I forgot to mention a particular location which I stayed at for under a week, yet had a profound impact on my views of the world around me.

Upon my arrival in Damongo, and before I found a host family, I was housed at a compound known as the Shangrilah (the actual name is unknown, but this is what I refer to it as). Colourfully painted and well maintained was it's exterior, and friendly and cordial were its inhabitants.

However the people living in this compound had no proper access to latrines or toilets. Indeed, the people who live at the Shangrilah have to defecate in the bush. These ten inhabitants are just a tiny fraction of a much more staggering fact.

2.4 billion people, or almost 40% of the world's population, do not have access to appropriate sanitary conditions.

Perhaps what shocked me most was that the people living at the Shangrilah are teachers, NGO workers, and businessmen and women. Their relative income is quite high, and they speak openly of the resources they have been denied. The problem stems from a landlord who promised to install the appropriate equipment as soon as he was able to rent out the entire complex. This was accomplished almost two years ago, and still no progress has been made.

The tenants, bound by contracts or lack of other housing, stay regardless, and add a new, educated face to the poverty that I have read about and experienced for the last three months. Poverty not only affects those with a lack of income, but also with a lack of appropriate resources or choices.

Access to appropriate sanitation is perhaps one of the largest issues facing the developing world today, and breeds avoidable conditions such as diarrhea which claim the lives of thousands of people.

ENERGY

When I returned to Damongo after the Ghana retreat in mid-July (a retreat in which I was reunited with the 10 colleagues which I had trained with for just six days before departing for Ghana, but felt like I was reuniting with childhood friends) I quickly settled down into the rural lifestyle I had been accustomed to. However just days later, our family was denied one of the luxuries we had enjoyed for the previous months.

Ghana's hydroelectric system is the legacy of the first President of it's independence, Kwame Nkrumah, who erected a dam so large that it created the world's biggest artificial lake (Lake Volta), and provided enough electricity to power the entire nation.

It is from this dam that Ghana's ever sprawling energy grid expands.

The various utility commissions in Ghana are quite abrupt when it comes to past-due bills and overdue payments. The national newspapers often publish a list of customers whose accounts have summed up millions of cedis in charges. This, along with a tendency to disconnect an entire neighborhood of electricity when only a few of it's inhabitants have not paid is a way to be certain of receiving payments on late accounts.

One day, while reading in the courtyard, a commotion broke out just outside the boundaries of our home; some meter-readers had arrived and were insisting that we had not paid our electricity bills. Having not yet received the receipt of payment, my father had little other than his personal assurance that we had paid the bills. This was not enough to satisfy the workers, however, and they cut our power source (as physically as it sounds, with really big scissors).

This blanketed the household in darkness and added myself and my family to another statistic.

400 million households do not have access to electricity.

This denies them the simple enjoyments of listening to the radio and lighting their compounds in darkness, but also increases the use and need of propane torches, charcoal, fuelwood, and other costly measures which are required to prepare food and illumination in these rural households.

The provision of rural energy can have tremendous impact on livelihoods and the quality of life which people enjoy.

WATER

Chilled water in Ghana is available on every street corner, either in locally-produced clear plastic bags, called ice-water, which is rarely anything more than chilled bore-hole or tapwater, or fancy sealed sachet packets carted in lorries across the country from Accra, under various labels and brands, each of which promises to be purer than the next. The prices range from Â¢100 to Â¢500, depending on your geographical location, and in most cases are completely safe for human consumption.

There are a few still, however, that either cannot afford this source of water, or live in too remote a place for the hawkers to sell their chilled bags. These rural villagers, in many areas of Ghana, form a group of people that share the same condition:

1.2 billion people lack access to clean water.

Decades of development in Ghana have left the countryside dotted with boreholes and wells, each in varying states of operation, if they run at all. Borehole water provides a safe, reliable source of groundwater for washing, cooking, and consuming, and indeed has sustained myself for the duration of my placement, and my family for years beforehand. However in portions of Ghana, which experiences a prolonged dry season, the water table sits very low, requiring special equipment to dig deep enough to access the water. This cost (about Â¢9 000 000), just for the drilling alone, prevent such water sources from being feasible in every community, and when they are, they are the lone source of clean water.

Damongo is blessed with having multiple bore-holes dotted around the community, and sometimes clustered over good groundwater sources, helping prevent both bottle-necks for water and complete reliance on one pump, which when broken requires women to collect water from unreliable and frequently contaminated watering holes.

Such pumps we have discovered in many smaller villages around the region where the borehole pump has been rendered useless over time, and the organizations or people who first installed the pump are nowhere to be found. Water being an everyday essential regardless of circumstances, requires that people find any source they can, no matter how unsafe it may be.

AGRICULTURE

Ghana's enormous dependence on agriculture in the north spells disaster when the rainy season fails to provide appropriate fruits, and adequate substinence when the rains are good. This dependence and lack of diversity of income means that many Ghanaians fall under the category which the UN uses to describe 'exteme poverty', whose umbrella covers the

1.2 billion people who make less than $1 a day.

These people live from the hand, to the mouth, without savings or banks and usually being uncertain of their long-term prospects. Having little capital and title, they fight to acquire loans from Ghana's weary banks, and struggle to make ends meet on a daily basis. This struggle forms their lives, and consumes their time to an almost infinite degree. Having spent just a handful of days farming, I appreciate the work that has gone into these endeavours, and quite selfishly was pleased that it was not something that I would have to endure for an extended period of time. But what of these farmers, who struggle for their livelihoods? How am I to merely sample this struggle and not feel as if I am just scratching the surface; just getting a taste.

Thus I have titled this post 'Poverty Sampler Pack'; a term coined to describe my integration into a society which is termed impoverished by the international community, as defined by one of the circumstances above. The reason for this title is simple. My escape from poverty has been booked on a KLM flight on August 22nd. I will leave behind my lack of opportunity, because my choices are many and I have been granted the sheer luck of being born into a society of abundance. There is a helpless feeling that comes with having a ladder out of the drowning pool. A pool which is being continuously filled by the economic super powers, whose policies and ideologies are making it almost impossible for millions of people around the world to escape the poverty that leaches their creativity and prosperity. This feeling is what has driven me to such a barbaric title, and will be my fuel for the fervor I will unleash upon to my return to Canada.

Food INDEPTH

2006-08-12T22:33:00.000-04:00

One of the biggest adjustments one must make upon entering Ghana is to the pallette, and consequently, the entire digestive tract, with which many battles are fought in the first weeks of integration.

Ghana's food choices are many, which is a shock considering the few food items it imports and the scarcity in its selection of locally grown and produced goods.

With the basic crops consisting of cassava, maize, yams, groundnuts, and a few other legumes, the basic diet of the Northern Ghanaian is formed. With the addition of readily avaiable meats such as goats, cow, guinea fowl and chicken, and seasonal fruits such as mangoes, watermelon, pineapple and plantains, there is an enormous offering of products which cater to breakfast, dinner and everything in between (like lunch!).

TAKE MAIZE, FOR EXAMPLE

Maize, or corn to you Canadians reading this blog (which surprisingly makes up only 60% of my readership), was to the best of my memory only prepared by the process of boiling, and afterwards served whole, 'on the cob' as they say, perhaps with some butter.

This familiar style of preparation is one that I could not find until late July in Ghana, despite the readily avaiable milled maize (dried maize kernels which have been ground into a fine powder) despite its popularity back home. This was, as I would later discover, because maize was just entering its harvest season in early July, and the maize products I had been consuming since my arrival were the stored remnants of previous harvests.

Until the discovery of boiled maize, which was the sweetest and most brilliant corn-on-the-cob I have ever encountered, I had grown accustomed to maize in almost every form. It made a large portion of my daily diet.

In the morning, I awoke to porride, or coco, which is a fermented and well spiced maize concoction which I have alluded to in previous posts. It is sometimes served with fermented maize balls which are fried in shea nut oil and occasionally sprinkled with sugar which seem to be unique to this region. In lunch form, maize can be roasted whole, which was also a recent occurrence after the harvest season began, where it is boiled slightly, cooked over charcoal, and lightly salted for a crunchy snack, or it can be fermented, wrapped in leaves, and cooked to create kenkey, served with a spicy pepper-tomato based salsa, and a side of smoked fish. If fermented maize is prepared without the leaf wrapper, banku is the result, which provides a slightly softer, more volatile mix and is often served with okra or groundnut stew.

The maize flour, described earlier, also forms the basis of the Northern Ghanaian staple, TZ, or tuo zafi, which is a 50/50 mix of maize flour and milled cassava, mixed with water and stirred in such a fashion to create a settling gelatin with a dough-like consistency. This is also served with various stews, which provide the essential oils to the Ghanaian's starch-ridden diet.
And that's how we eat maize!

Each of the staple crops, in fact, have several ways to be prepared, and are the result of decades of dependence upon dependable crops such as cassava, and high-yielding crops such as maize.

Groundnuts, which you may recognize as peanuts, are ground to a pasty consistency and sold as such, for use in soups and stews, but are also a close parallel to peanut butter.This groundnut paste is highly sought after by JFs, some of which will remain unnamed. These anonymous EWB volunteers often walk the streets sucking it straight out of the bag in which it is sold, garnering many looks from Ghanaians.

Then there are the yams, which can be boiled, steamed, deep-fried, grilled, and in all forms result in a tasty, filling meal, often served with a sauce of crushed peppers mixed with vegetable oil and tomatoes.

Which brings me to Pepper (p. Pepe), the blanket term used to describe readily avaialable hot peppers which are grown in Ghana, and mashed or dried to form various spicy mixes for everything from hard-boiled eggs to deep-fried yams.

Beans come in many shapes and sizes, such as soy beans and Bambaram beans, which can be mashed, and then boiled or deepfried, and served with a variation of Pepper, either dried and ground, or mixed with oil and tomatoes for a spicy salsa. The boiled bambaram beans is called tobani, and are cooked between leaves which add a certain flavour.

Cereal grains, such as millet or sorghum are also on the menu. Millet forming the basis for breads, and in dried form and mixed with sugar, milk powder, and water, to form a mushy cereal that tastes just like Corn Flakes!
A multitude of breads, some with sugar baked in, others crusty and baguette-like, sell for ¢5000 a loaf, and are readily available on all street corners.
That is a basic summary of the foods which are prepared and consumed across the north on a daily basis. Ghana also has a strong milk-product industry, as well as brewery sector.
Milk powder is the safest bet for those missing a tall cold glass. Cow's milk, often straight from the udders, is sold by the nomadic Fulani tribe, warmed by the sun in plastic containers they have hoisted above their heads as they walk through the market.

A large corporation, Fanmilk, also makes a variety of dairy products, like vanilla ice-cream, chocolate milk, and strawberry yoghurt, all sold in plastic pouches which sell for ¢3000, easily found in Tamale.

In terms of drinks, Fanmilk produces a Sunny Delight clone called Tampico, and flavoured juices and mixes which are prepared locally can be bought in clear plastic bags similar to ice-water, and have flavours such as Tang, ginger, and a chilled fermented maize juice called 'light'. Coca-Cola pounces on Ghana as it does in any developing market, pushing a reliable alternative to water, and plundering local resources to ensure it's domination over the market. In a continuing battle fought with Pepsi-Cola, the only losers are the local consumers.

As for fruit, the selection is small, but relatively affordable, and local. Mangoes were abundant upon our arrival, but have since dissappeared and retreated to the south, where they are still readily available. They have been replaced with pineapple, watermelons, coconuts, bananas, and oranges which are available in Tamale at decent prices. All are fresh, and incredibly delicious.
Vegetables that are easily found in Tamale and seem to be locally grown include tomatoes and onions. Other vegetables, such as carrots, green peppers, and cucumber can be found, but are much more costly, and appear to be imported from other countries or regions.

Candy is also readily found in Tamale. Luke Brown, Western LTOV, readily experiments with different candies, and has found some similar to Pez, and he even managed to track down those small caramal squares that used to frequent our Halloween loot. Remember those? They were awesome. Most candy is imported from China or Nigeria, and is essentially a mystery until tried.
Thus is the extent of the food stuffs I have tried in Ghana. Most of which are available only in Tamale, or are hard to find at the village level. Although this has been an indepth report, I have left a lot out to keep it short. With all this delicious food, however, I am still looking forward to returning to my mom's cooking, even if just for a few days, before I return to Windsor, land of the chicken wings and shawarma.

Diet Snaps

2006-08-12T17:36:00.000-04:00

Cracked wheat, cooked in a pot over the charcoal fire, is an excellent and filling afternoon snack, especially if the afternoon is cold because of the rains.

Leaves provide essential nutrients for the Ghanaian diet, which is rich in starch and carbs. Vitamin C, Calcium, and many other vitamins have their main provisions from the addition to cassava leaves, and other leaves to soups and stew.

TZ, pictured front, is a mix of milled maize, cassava, and water, pounded and heated to a thick consistency and served with a soup. It provides the staple diet for people of the Northern Region, and was my dinner each night for the last three months. The stews would change each night, with a different mix of okrah, groundnuts, cassava leaves, etc. My favourite soup being groundnut soup with cassava leaves and okrah chunks.

Okrah has been cooked, mashed, and is here being boiled to form the basis for a soup. Okrah is readily available and joins onions and tomatoes in being one of the only vegetables available at the rural level.

Shots from the farm

2006-08-10T07:58:00.000-04:00

Because I haven't provided any recent pictures, here are some shots from the excursion to YahYah's farm:

The road to the farm; some sections are in far better shape than others. The mud easily washes away in the heavy summer rains, leaving exposed boulders, rocks and ditches several feet deep as a surprise as we approach on our bikes.

The farm, which was cleared using slash and burn methods, sprouts sweetyam plants, cassava and the occassional watermelon in a weaving sea of dirt mounds. The yam plants yearn for the sun and crawl up the charred branches of the trees' ashy remains.

Yahyah clears the farm with some help. The plant in the front of the pictures is that of cassava, whose signature leaves provide essential nutrients in the rural Ghanaian diet.

The Cedi

2006-08-08T20:27:00.000-04:00

For months I have listed specific items which I have paid for, or the cost of living in the local currency, the cedi (p. seedy).

The cedi has recently undergone a devaluation to just a tiny fraction of it's former worth, for a plethora of reasons, and has created an inflated economy in which the cost of any good has risen several times.

Not only did this doom any chance of savings for the small percentage of people who put their money away for keeping, but it created an entirely worthless pesawa, whose relation to the cedi is similar to the cent's summation to a dollar.

Indeed, after this serious devaluation, the value of a one pesawa coin is rarely worth the sand it has displaced when you stumble across one on the road.

Even 20 and 50 cedi coins, which pay for just a fraction of a sachet water pack, or piece of bubble gum, bring a sigh to my face when given to me as balance (change), because I know I will be lugging them around with me for the forseeable future.

With this severely devalued currency, and inflated price of imports, I have purposely left out the conversion to $CDN or the USD, in hopes that I would one day get a chance to ask a question like this:

Based on the following products, whose average price I have outlined in the local currency, the cedi, please comment on the exchange rate which you think is accurate between the cedi and the Canadian dollar. I ask that you comment without aid, and if you do look up the conversion, please refrain from posting, as it makes this less interesting for myself and others.

Purified sachet of potable water: ¢400
300mL bottle of Coca-Cola or similar mineral (pop): ¢4000
250mL of soy milk: ¢6000
Watche from a street vendor (full serving of rice and beans): ¢2000-¢3000
A delicious egg sandwich: ¢3000
A personal sized pizza at a Tamale restaurant: ¢60 000
A can of Pringles: ¢28 000
A one-night stay at the fabulous Maacos Hotel (see Accomodations INDEPTH for more info): ¢50 000
A deep-fried doughball at a tro-tro station: ¢500
1 hard-boiled egg: ¢1200
Transit from Damongo to Tamale (3 hour journey): ¢20 000

Based on these average prices for specific items and services, guess the conversion! Remember don't cheat.

Yahyah's Farm

2006-08-01T07:52:00.000-04:00

Each morning is a routine that I have slowly gotten accustomed to. The early morning call to prayer and roosters sound off at around 4am. This usually gets me out of my regular sleep, but looking at the time, and thinking about the still-distant sun, I remain in bed and fall asleep again. Around 5am the activity in my compound begins to stir. My neice runs to buy some fermented maize porridge and sugar from the street, my mother starts the fire to prepare the morning water, and my siblings prepare for another day of school lessons. Around 5.3oam the porridge is served, on certain days with a portion of sugar bread. This is usually the point at which I am outside, showered, and ready for the day. Any longer and my porridge begins to settle into a thick, unconsumable slop. I sit in the compound trying to pound back the porridge as quickly as my nephews. It might just be me, but a steaming-hot, well-spiced, fermented maize drink doesn't go down so well early in the morning. I do get it down each day, however, and as the spices and my stomach begin their daily morning battle, I get out my notebook and jot down the events of the previous day. After some lounging and relaxing, it is now 6.3oam. A gentleman by the name of Yahyah pulls up to the compound on his bicycle.

Yahyah is a close family friend, and a farmer. Each morning he approaches the compound, greets the family, then states with a grin: "Obruni, today we go farm?" Most days I have excuses lined up, such as work, or travel... but one day, on Wednesday, June 28th, 2006, to be exact, I decided to stop making excuses, and experience the day in the life of a rural Ghanaian farmer. The MoFA JFs have been lucky enough to spend a whole week on rural farms to understand the work that goes into agriculture. Jealous of this opportunity, perhaps, I agreed to Yahyah's challenge of travelling to his farm, which he proclaimed on a daily basis to be '50 miles away'.

I grab my kahula, a few sachet waters, a pair of boots and my bike, and we head out for a day that I will never forget.

The first leg of the journey is not long, we travel for just 20 minutes before we reach a small shop by the side of the road. We greet the shopkeeper, walk behind through the door of a families compound. Inside is a chaotic scene; large metallic bowls filled with fermented maize dough, or banku line the compound. "The best banku in Ghana", Yaya promises me as we sit and eat. If the morning porridge wasn't enough, a second serving of fermented maize should be a great start to a hard day. I singe my fingerprints off as I tuck my hand into the scolding banku, and then into the simmering soup, which makes the banku seem cool in comparison. I awkwardly heave the mix into my mouth and look at my pulsating red fingers. Then I go back for more. After a hearty 7am breakfast of banku, groundnut soup, and cow, we head off again.

The hilly areas of West Gonja rise gradually up until they reach the escarpment, which carves across Ghana to Gombaga. The valleys and surroundings provide tremendous scenery, and vegetation is in full as we are into the rains. We traverse hill after hill for hours at a time, and I easily pound through the little water I have brought with me (just 2L). Around 10am, we reach a juncture in the road, and Yaya indicates to me that we are to leave the road. Exhausted, I only hope that the farm is not far away.

For several more kms, we head down a path which is barely suitable for our bicycles. Yaya leads the way and snaps back thorny branches and vines into my face, constantly knocking off my kahula, and leaving me cursing with words I can only hope he doesn't understand. We continue for some time, finally reaching a small clearing, at which point we are to venture the rest of the way on foot. We take a small bush trail through the overgrown grass and tall shea nut trees, and suddenly spring upon a patch of land that he proudly announces to me as his farm. In this 'clearing' of the surrounding bush sit rather unorganized mounds of dirt. From each mound sprouts a large bush or vine. Yahyah explains to me that the bushes, with their signature leaves, are cassava plants, and digs down into the mound to reveal a single cassava root, still rather small, and slender in comparison to its harvest-ready counterpart. the vines are yam plants, and sprawl up sticks inserted in the ground or nearby trees to collect the sun.

Tired from the journey, we both head to his hut to take a quick rest. About an hour later, we emerge from the hut, and I am immediately handed a cutlass, or very very large machete. He directs me forward and follows me down a path which leads through the mounds of dirt. We walk past Yahyah's first acre of cassava and enter a thickly vegetated patch of land. The ground is not visible below my waiste, but I know we are still standing on farmland because I constantly trip on the very mounds on which the cassava plants are seeded. We walk some distance before Yahyah calls out to two gentlemen, Mussa, and Ali, whom Yahyah has hired to help clear the land we are standing on of it's weeds. Yahyah has let this area grow fallow for quite some time, and it is time to clear it and plant some yams in the dirt mounds. The two men emerge from the bush with arms full of yams.

After further inspection of the farm, which reveals some damage to yam mounds by grass-cutters, we get to work beginning to clear away the weeds and vines that have overgrown the area. It is back-breaking work. The commute to the farm was an ordeal in itself, having taken anywhere from three to five hours. In the exhaustion and dehydration of the trip, I had lost track of time. With machete in hand I hack at the base of the small bushes and weeds which have grown, and then with a firm grip grab the remaining stump in the ground and shake out the remaining roots. The weeded plants remain where they lay, as they provide essential moisture and nutrients for the growing cassava. We clear a tiny area before Yaya announces that we have finished weeding for the day. Upset, but at the same time relieved, I slowly stand and stretch my back and stick my machete in a nearby dirt mound. Yahyah has hired Mussa and Ali to clear the rest of the farm. The process will take three days, and Yahyah will have to pay the gentlemen ¢200 000 for their work.

After just half an hour of weeding, we walk a bit further to discover a field of sweet yams. The vines are very long on these plants, and they sprawl across the ground in the channels between the mounds. Occassionally, I stumble across a watermelon, which Yahyah has dispersed throughout his crop. The channels between mounds allow for the perfect drainage for watermelon growth, which oddly enough, requires very little water.

As we walk acre after acre, I see the fruitful efforts of years of hard work. Slowly, Yahyah has expanded his crop to the surrounding bush. Land is quite plentiful in West Gonja, the largest district in the Northern Region. The relative fertility of the soil in comparison to areas further north makes it an attractive opportunity for farmers who have been less succesful elsewhere. After an hour of exploring the farm, I see the satisfaction Yahyah expresses in standing amongst his crop. These efforts will pay off if the rains are good when it is time to harvest later in the summer. His cassava roots can sit anywhere from six months to two years between harvests. Letting the root grow larger can fetch a better price at market, but makes the plant more susceptible to the various diseases and weather effects which can quickly destroy a crop.

Yahyah is not the only farmer down this long road from the village. He introduces me to Al-Jafa, a neighboring farmer whose property is as diverse and expansive as Yahyah's. Al-Jafa is not a day under 65, yet four days a week he hops on his bike from Damongo for the four hour trek to this remote farming community. Al-Jafa walks me through his perfectly planted acre of groundnuts, and we continue through the bush for sometime until we come across a wide expanse of maize. Maize is highly susceptible to droughts, and if the rains do not improve, he will risk losing a lot of his crop. Luckily enough, like most farmers in this area, he has an assortment of cassava, yams, groundnuts, bambaram beans, soy, and other various products which will ensure that he can sustain his family if one or more crops is to fail.

We visit the few remaining farms in the area, and after a makeshift repair to ensure my bike makes it back to Damongo, we are on our way down the hilly red-mud roads of West Gonja. I return home five hours later and nearly collapse on the ground of the courtyard. Luckily my nephew is standing near me and brings a bench over just in time. How farmers like Al-Jafi and Yahyah have the energy to travel to their farms several times a week is beyond me.

My best estimates put the round-trip distance at 40-50kms, the majority of which is extremely hilly, sandy terrain. A commute which these men make on a regular basis but one that I can only endure a few times for the remainder of the placement.

The Impact

2006-07-12T13:54:00.000-04:00

I am sitting in the passenger seat of the Nissan Patrol, the NGOSUV. The driver and I are fetching lunch for everyone at the office. Each day, everyone pools their money and sends a vehicle into town to pick up whatever they request. As a result of having picked up food countless times, the driver always knows the best place in town for any specific food item. As we twist and turn our way through the narrow streets of bustling Tamale, I try to remember the steps we take to arrive at each chop bar, specializing in anything from kenkey, watche, banku, rice, beans, fried plantains or yams. Each item has one specific location that OIC orders from. The best chop bars can be easily identified by the long line-ups of impatient and hungry Ghanaians, as well as the rows of wooden benches where satisfied individuals quickly heave the steaming hot items into their mouth.

As we travel down the main road towards town, I stare out the window at the chaotic scene around me. Most days, I walk down these streets without a second thought. If a gentlemen passes me on a bike with two-by-fours on his head, I gently tuck my head down. If a motorbike weaves its way towards me on the sidewalk, I gracefully stride to the side. This is a big difference from when I first arrived in Tamale, and would dive out of the way of any obtuse object on the sidewalk, be it sheep, cow, pile of sand, or motorbike. These streets are very different from the view of the SUV, and I realize that when comparing them to the tranquility of Canada's roads, just how hectic they can be. Yet in all my time in Tamale, I have witnessed only one bicycle accident, in the pitch black atmosphere of 7pm, when travelling into town to fetch dinner.

We continue down the road and I glance out my window and who do I see? I see Gwen, a newly arrived EWB LTOV from UBC, buying a sachet of drinking water by the side of the road. We continue further along and I glance out the other side to see Sabrina, a Guelph JF, buying food from a chop bar. I look around me and realize that everywhere we go in Tamale, we bump into each other. I stayed at the Maacos Hotel one weekend, and returned from the communal toilet to discover Louis Dorval sucking back a sachet water in front of his room. He was staying next door. I walk down to my favourite yam place, only to discover Robin, Louis, and Russ sitting back having a meeting enjoying some yams.

I cannot help but wonder what impact we have on this community in such numbers. One late Friday evening, after taking a lorry from Damongo into Tamale, a man stopped his bike and approached me on the street; a normal occurrence when you spot a westerner on the streets of Tamale. He immediately asked if I was Canadian. I was at first a little shocked but I assumed that I had just met him before. I answered: "Yes, I am a Canadian... how did you know?"

"Canadians wear the white band" he said, pointing to the Make Poverty History wristband that adorns my left wrist. I then pointed out that not all Canadians wear the white band, but only a small percentage, and how my presence in Ghana would hopefully make more Canadians wear it. "How?" he asked. I hadn't quite figured that part out yet.

He then began to enquire about his Canadian friends Jon (Saskatchewan JF) and Chloe (Victoria JF). I mentioned that they were both good friends, and he informed me that they had travelled to Mole National Park for the weekend.

A little further, someone called out to me on the street, asking me to say hello to Sarah (Western JF) and Sabrina.

Can negative impact be possible? Is EWB fostering the stereotype that all Canadians know each other? I pondered what the implications would be by replying to people that yes, I am good friends with Troy from Vancouver, BC, or Ian from Newfoundland. Whatever they are, they are going to get stronger as the summer winds down, having almost thirty EWB volunteers and staff in various capacities spread across the Northern Region of Ghana.

So the next time you're in Ghana and someone asks you how Kyle, from Canada is doing. You can let them know that I am just fine.

The Critical Point

2006-07-11T13:55:00.000-04:00

The Micro-Enterprise Development projects of West Gonja have reached a critical point in their development of the partnership between the women co-operatives and Opportunities Industrialisation Centres. For the last 13 months, eight of the newest groups have been taking training sessions which cover the process of packaging and marketing processed cassava, to learning how to price their product and make it marketable. In all, there are 13 modules that the women encounter, usually done in one to two hours, once a month. This process takes place before the delivery of the equipment to keep the women focused and to measure their interest in the partnership (done through regular check-ups and attendance records).

The marketing of a product seems unrelated to increasing the livelihoods of a group of rural women, but it's role is suprisingly integral. Products from an initiative such as the gari being processed by these women, or the shea nut oil they also produce (critical to many cosmetics products), is usually marketed in clear plastic bags or in clumps by the roadside and is often very competitively priced when many women sell in a small roadside market area. The little cosmetic appearances that can separate the products can mean a good day of sales for one women or opportunity lost for another.

So we sit in a circle of carved wooden benches under the shade of a date tree and discuss what it takes to make a sale; determine who the customer is and focus on appealing to them.

There are only six groups receiving their equipment this rainy season, however. Six of eight groups for which we are slowly providing proof of our commitment to the partnership, and the last two groups whose queries for proof are still atleast a few months away due to funding.

DISCOURAGEMENTS IN DEVELOPMENT

The partnership is drawn out specifically in certain areas, such as building construction. The women are to produce a structure measuring 16' x 14', and a veranda around the front of the structure 10' x 14'. Upon receiving word of completion of the 26' x 14' structure, OIC sends out a roofing team, a lorry containing all the lumber, aluminum alloy roof tiles, and cassava equipment necessary for full operation.

The arrival of the lorry and OIC NGOSUV is the culmunation of over a year of training and promises from both sides, and an exciting time to be involved in the project. However in June, the roofing was completed in only one village, with only one co-operative. The June 15th deadline approached and quickly passed with only one group finishing their side of the partnership. This represents a huge setback for the project, which OIC had hoped to implement by the peak of the rainy season.

Reasons for the other five groups not reaching the deadline are many. In some instances, rains were constantly delaying the construction of the mud-walled structure, and in some extreme circumstances, even damaging them. This led to the insistance from some groups that OIC complete roofing before the structure was finished to protect what had remained, and then the structure could be completed underneath. This request, while valid, uncovers problems and setbacks in its implementation. The structure is the responsibilty of the group to construct. It is their role in the partnership. If it is incomplete, OIC is unable to continue in its current capacity, because the partnership is not being followed through. The added costs are also quite significant if it is an incomplete structure being roofed. These added costs include additional lumber to prop up a premature roof. The result is a higher investment from OIC than other groups which have met the partnership deadlines on time and completed their structure.

What then is to happen to these five groups of women who have passed the June 15th deadline without completing their structure? Will OIC end the partnership? Will they not receive the equipment? While OIC makes it clear that the matter is serious, at no time do they consider denying these groups the fruition of their full year of training. The problems that have arisen must be analyzed and resolved as quickly as possible to allow the project to continue. Besides the refusal to continue construction, which was explained above, some other problems were found in the unfinished sheds; poor construction materials and know-how in rural areas was due to a lack of skilled labourers in the art of construction. Indeed, it is an art, as these sculptors are able to take piles of earth, add water, and create structures which are resistant to the rains and the wind. However in some villages, husbands were jealous of the opportunities presented to their wives, and would refuse to help construct the shed or find skilled labourers. This resulted in having the women begin construction themselves, on top of all of the other tasks they encounter on a daily basis. the resultant shed was often not square, would collapse easily, or was not to the original specifications agreed to in the partnership.

These projects will in time get off the ground, but it is the understanding of the consequences of the delays which have kept both sides working in the partnership. OIC's patience with the co-operatives, and the women's perseverance to complete the structure is awe-inspiring, and from the rain-soaked earth rise mud huts which will house the enterprise on which these women are about to embark on.

So what then, of that one village which has met the deadline?

THE STORY OF MOGNORI

Of the eight gari groups a bright light shines from the 18 women who reside in the village of Mognori, a tiny settlement precariously perched on the edge of Mole National Park, the largest wild game park in West Africa. Not only was the Mognori group the first to finish their structure, but they also used mud-brick construction. It is the second of its type in this village, behind only the mosque, and more commonly found in populous centres such as Tamale or the South. In the middle of a picturesque setting of straw-roofed huts and flat-topped mud kraals lies a brick fortress which took the ingenuity and commitment of an entire village to complete. Myself and Patrick are both suprised that they have been able to complete this structure in such short time.

The roofers are quickly summoned from Tamale and allows me to spend a few days in this village to investigate what has allowed this project to flourish. Some positive deviance analysis uncovers some interesting facts. I meet some teachers in the town who live their to teach at the village school. They are some of the few people who speak english, and are able to enlighten me to what has been occurring in this small community. I discover that until the project was completed, the leaders of the group met nightly to discuss the progress, how they would acquire the bricks, and who would be responsible for ensuring the construction site had plently of water, essential for the mortar. The women understood the partnership - they saw the opportunity, and acted accordingly in order to meet the deadline. But how did they do this?
I am suprised to see some men helping out during the roofing phase of the cassava shed. When they take a break during the blazing afternoon sun, I approach one husband who has sought shelter in the shade of a palm-nut tree. After a few minutes of questions about the project, I enquire why he has decided to help. His response is something I will not soon forget.

"They are our mothers. Our wives. Our sisters... when you give opportunity to a mother, you give opportunity to an entire family."

Certainly a phrase that is heard quite often in development, and indeed the very answer I received when I asked OIC of their focus on women. To hear this at the level of the village is to begin to understand what is taking place here, in the village of Mognori.

Accomodations INDEPTH

2006-07-06T04:32:00.000-04:00

A look at the various accomodations I have encountered over the last few months.

Upon arrival in Accra we were whisked to the House of Lords Hotel (pro. House of Looords, just so you know). The accomodations were pretty snazzy. A/C, ceiling fan, as well as a semi-flushing toilet and a shower head that worked in some rooms. If the water had been running and electricity working, it would have been a paradise. Instead, myself and three other volunteers, Luke Brown, Ben Best, and Ian Froude slept comfortably and intimately on a king size bed under a still fan and silent air conditioning unit. This was my first taste of life in Ghanaian hotels.
Things weren't much different when we arrived in Tamale, where we were welcomed with open arms to the Maacos Hotel. During our one week stay, the hotel underwent two name changes, and they bought a freezer! The Maacos is famous for hosting an EWB member at any given time, and I would return for the occasional weekend to Tamale to discover other JFs or Louis, Director of West Africa projects hanging out in the courtyard. Our West Africa Retreat will be taking place at the Maacos. The hotel is managed by the extremely loveable Emmanuelle, who makes your stay as comfortable as possible, and when you're lucky, changes the bedsheets.

The OIC Guesthouse, where I would stay during work-related visits to Tamale, is a venerable palace of amenities. Although running water is rare, it has a shower head, and there is a water heater in the washroom... one day I will break and use it. The complete kitchen also houses a microwave, stove, blender (which Marka and myself used to make mango & banana smoothies one blistering afternoon), as well as a propane stove and rice cooker. Other meals we have prepared include spaghetti, grilled cheese, and soup. The house has a dining room, the first I have seen in Ghana, as well as a family room. It has two courtyards and three washrooms.

In Damongo, one of two accomodations is the Catholic Guesthouse. Another luxurious accomodation. This hotel featured running water, shower, and some pretty cool brickwork. The price was steep however, costing ¢92 000 for a room. Luckily, I only spent one night here.

If you're ever in Bunkpurungu in the Upper-East region of Ghana (hey, it could happen), I strongly recommend the Rabito guesthouse, of Rabito skin-clinic fame. This lovely guesthouse is a series of traditional mud huts with thatched roofs, vibrantly painted and arranged in a circular pattern around a bedrock-ridden courtyard. Each hut has a separate shower stall where morning or evening bucket showers can be had under the beautiful Ghanaian sky.

The complex, like the entire village, is powered by solar-power, and the rooms are cooled by leaving the door and window open. Bunkpurungu is taking a step backwards in terms of progress, and the electrical lines being built towards the village will spell the end of this entirely solar powered town's sustainability. However the reasons are obvious. Store vendors wish to sell chilled minerals, and people want to be able to buy televisions. Denying them these luxuries we so easily take for granted is not something we have the right to do.

My room in Damongo. Walls a vibrant blue and mosquito net in full effect. These are my permanent accomodations for the remainder of this placement.

A view from the opposite corner.

Have a question about any of my accomodations? Want more details? Leave a comment and I will be sure to answer it as soon as possible.

The Euphoria

2006-06-19T10:11:00.000-04:00

I stand up at the perfect time, because the bench I was sitting on just moments ago is hoisted up above someone's head as they run into the street. Two elderly gentlement climb the metal facade of the electronics store we are crowded around, shaking the walls and bringing the shops tin roof to a loud rattle. The rattle can scarce be heard among the screaming of the people, however, and in an instant the streets fill with children, women, elders and shopkeepers. We are celebrating a goal Ghana has scored against the Czech Republic in just the second minute of play. It has been the earliest goal scored in the 2006 World Cup, and Ghana's first in World Cup history.

Ghanaians can hardly believe what they have witnessed; Ghana is ranked #48 in the world against the #2 Czechs.

After the first goal, almost everyone in town crowds around the few stores which have televisions. Ghana's national broadcaster, GTV, can be picked up by any antennae, making it very easy to receive the signals live from Germany.

The next 90 minutes proves as exciting, with Ghana getting many more chances and dominating most of the game. The final result was 2-0 for Ghana; which went against all odds and predictions. The streets filled with people through the rest of the night, and the party would last for several more hours.

Just when I thought the streets of Tamale could not be more lively, more stunning for the senses, or more fascinating, Ghana blanks the Czechs, and the relative chaos in which these streets operate on a normal basis seem calm in comparison.

I hope you will join me in cheering on Ghana in the FIFA World Cup for the remainder of the tournament.

The rains

2006-06-01T08:09:00.000-04:00

Bowls, used to collect water, do laundry, mix TZ, and any other possible purpose, are used to collect the water runoff from the roof. After a quick rinse, and getting rid of the first few inches which collect the dust, we begin dumping the bowls into the bins we use for storage

The drums collect large portions of rainwater

These rusted drums which sustain us once transported or stored crude oil

The shade of the date tree in my compound provides ideal nap conditions

The Storm Report

2006-05-29T06:05:00.000-04:00

With May comes the rainy season; the busiest time for farmers, and therefore the busiest time for Ghana, since agriculture makes up a large portion of the economy. We arrived in Accra just a few weeks ago in a hazy humid mess. The rains started almost immediately, turning the brown terrain into a lush green landscape. As we travelled north, the same could be said for Tamale, and we watched as the rains transformed the savannah and brought them to life.

In Damongo, rains have threatened us for a few days. Large, perilous storms which seem certain to hit veer away from us at the last minute. There is a system to these storms that anyone can use to detect their occurrence minutes before they start (besides from looking at the clouds, of course):

The relatively calm Ghanaian air whips into a whirlwind of activitity, picking up with it the deep red sands and the occassional black plastic takeaway bag. These slight winds draw ever stronger, blinding you and pelting sand at your eyes at nearly 80kmh. The sand and wind is followed by an immediate darkness, as the monstrous cumulus clouds move overhead, bringing with them a dark that sets in faster than after an African sunset.

Finally, when the Gods deem Damongo worthy of a rinse, the sky bears fruit to the crops below. The rain, although light at first, pelts at my tin roof with a resounding thud. As the intensity picks up, I notice a hole which lets in the occassional drop.

The children run to gather bins, buckets, pots, and bowls to collect the rainwater. This incoming storm is good news, because if it rains well, we will not have to fetch water for three to four days.

Adisa runs and collects the large metal bowls that she uses to collect water every morning. We give them a quick rinse and run them along the perimetre of the courtyard, allowing the rainwater to fall and collect from the roof of the house. The high-pitched pings of the rain hitting the bowls stands out to the barotone thuds of the grape sized rain drops pounding the corrugated roof panels. We watch as they fill up within seconds, and are careful as we pour them into the awaiting drums which fill slowly as the rain continues. For an hour we sit, wait, and occassially get up to empty another bowl into the drums. Each bowl that fills with rainwater saves one of the women the hike to the borehole.

Only here could so much anticipation come in the first rains. For Ghanaians, the rains mean food security, hydration, and substinence. It is with this anticipation that you realize just how connected to the climate we are in Ghana.

The next time it rains in Canada, I will be sure to think about how much I have invested in the rainfall, and I will be sure to evaluate the amount I rely on the climate for my livelihood. The obvious answer is not much. But what is the right answer?

A Family Affair

2006-05-26T06:08:00.000-04:00

We borrowed a truck from the MoFA office and transported my mattress from the Shangrila to my new home. We were greeted by all of the neighbors as they were about to settle for the last OIC training session before we install the communities cassava processing unit.

As the truck came to a halt outside the family compound, we were joined by dozens of children from all over the community. They seemed to be everywhere. Immediately, they hopped onto the back of the MoFA truck and grabbed my bags. I got out just in time to pick up the mattress. Surrounded by the neighborhood kids, we walked to my room as the women greeted me.

"You are welcome"
"You are welcome"

I dropped my mattress in my room, ensuring there were no kids in its path, and headed back outside into the courtyard of the house. The first wall of the house is a straw interweaving mat which spans about 15 feet to provide some privacy to the compound. Two other walls consist of the existing house structure. Six rooms each with their own access point to the courtyard, sharing the same corrugated steel roofing structure and porch area. Along the rugged edges of the roof are partially rusted steel drums to hold the water that the women transport from the borehole each morning. In the rainy season, the all-purpose water is provided compliments of the slanted roof which pour the water into the drums in large amounts, decreasing the need for the women to trek the 500m to the borehole.

I sit on a wooden bench in the middle of the courtyard, while a flurry of activity takes place around me. The young girls painstakingly wash piles of dishes and prepare them for our dinner, while the boys are moving around furniture, checking water levels, playing with the radio or tinkering with the bikes in the corner.

My Ghanaian mother, Atomi, sits over a charcoal fire preparing the soup we will enjoy, while my senior Ghanaian sister pounds and prods a boiling hot cauldron of maize and ground cassava. She is preparing TZ, a popular starchy dinner meal shared by almost every Ghanaian I have experienced in the evening. The TZ is served in ceramic pots fresh from the stove, and begins to settle immediately. It forms a consistency of JELLO, but is still quite hot. I am served and I dig my fingers in quickly, form a ball, dip it in the stew, made from ground nuts and cassava leaves, and heave it into my mouth before my fingers burn. The food is served so hot, that the options are to either drop the food on the floor to prevent burning your fingers, or tossing it into your mouth, which from Louis' advice, has a higher heat tolerance than fingers. So I toss the TZ into my mouth and let my tongue deal with the heat, and I fan my fingers to cool them before going for more. The process creates a stream of sweat down my face in the cool evening breeze, but I wouldn't have it any other way. We wash and I listen to stories from the family. They are all in Gonja, the local language, but from the body language I can pick up the jist of the story, the helped along by Ali, my senior brother, who speaks English.

As soon as dinner ends, the sun begins to set, and all of Damongo is sent into darkness because of a power-outage. We sit and continue to share stories anyways, and eventually are joined by a ceiling of a billion stars. The black silhouette of the courtyard's date tree, and the corrugated roof provide a blackened border to a sky with so many stars it would seem we have left earth's polluted atmosphere.

The rooms of the house, after baking in the Ghanaian sun for twelve hours under a metal roof, are far too hot for sleeping even though the evening is cool. So the entire family lays in the courtyard of the house under the starlit sky. I join them, and we sleep through the night interrupted by the occasional goat or crying baby. This is the quietest it has been since I arrived in Ghana. a peaceful serenity I am sure to enjoy whenever the power goes out.

At around 10pm, the lights flicker on, the neighborhood cassava grinder returns to normal pace, and the sounds of Gonja music mixed with the occassional Bryan Adams return to the air. The sounds are back, but we stay and sleep in the courtyard anyways.

The newest group in town

2006-05-24T06:10:00.000-04:00

Wednesday May 24th
Today I finally moved in with my host family. I will be staying with the group leader, or 'mother' of one of OIC's new project groups. This new group is undergoing some dramatic changes in their last days before forming this cooperative. They have undergone ten training sessions on everything from business management to how to price their products, and proper sanitation. I was lucky enough to attend the last meeting for these 32 women.

All of the pieces are almost in place for their cassava processing facility. They are just finishing up the groundwork for the new shed that will house the grinder, and the land around it is being flattened in preparation of the cement that will be poured soon. The walls consist of a basic sand, soil, grass and water mixture which is made to a fine paste and hand formed into the wall structure. Concrete will be poured over this structure at a later date, forming the solid walls around which the cassava grinder will be placed.

The meeting goes quickly after I take attendance. I take my time to reach each person's full name and try to match it to their face. They are patient with me, and Patrick flies through the session, ensuring the women understand how to price the cassava processing services that they will soon be offering.

Not only will the women buy cassava from farmers and sell the finished gari themselves, but they will also rent out the equipment to other groups to allow them to process the cassava they have produced to feed their families or sell in return. On the side, the starch is extracted from the water that is squeezed out of the cassava. This starch can go into anything from baked goods to clothing. The entire process and by-products will be looked at indepth at a later date.
The women disperse less than an hour after we meet. They have to prepare dinner so they cannot be kept long. They give me a quick welcoming cheer, and head off in every direction to their families to begin the long process of preparing TZ.

Analysis Point: Cassava

2006-05-21T07:57:00.000-04:00

» ANALYSIS POINT:

A Point of Analysis is created once in a while to present problems we are facing in our techniques and processes. They are issued to University of Windsor EWB members, but anyone who reads these blogs are welcome to join and comment in the discussion. These situations are real. Comments and suggestions posted will be taken into consideration into the actual operating procedure of the projects I am involved in. This is an amazing way to have impact overseas from Canada! They will be posted whenever a problem arises that requires research beyond what I am capable of producing in the field. Please be creative, be thorough, and thoughtful in your replies.

Point of Analysis: Cassava Processing Equipment Deterioration

When pressed, cassava releases water that is highly corrosive and eats away at the concrete floor of the building. This creates an uneven floor below the press, which results in the press itself being subjected to uneven pressures and forces, bending the threads for the tightening rods, and eventually rendering the entire press useless. As you can see, this is a very costly issue.

At this Analysis Point, look up the naturally occuring components in cassava and determine which ingredients could be causing the destruction of the concrete. Also, are there any materials that are resistant to this material? Your responses can be posted below in the comments section below this post, or by clicking here.

The bent rod creates uneven pressures in the threads of the press. This results in the tightening rods loosing grip, rendering the press useless.

Things to note: » press in not on level surface » press is exposed to elements (not housed in facility)

This cassava press is operated outside, and has bent compression rods and threading.

The Gombaga Tour

2006-05-21T07:38:00.000-04:00

Thursday morning we headed out to Gombaga in the NE area of Ghana. The three hour journey was dotted with various WATSAN and ME project visits, and we were even lucky enough to encounter a borehole project in the drilling phase, a very rare occurance.

Our journey started out on a relatively smooth highway headed north from Tamale, but just as the road to Damongo, things turned rocky. The drive north was beautiful, because Northern Ghana is sprinkled with natural rock formations and escarpments that create a very unique landscape of rocky cliffs with tropical plants and palm trees.

We stopped at many OIC borehole projects, built primarily near schools, and watched as the students pumped for water and slowly filled large metal bowls to carry back to the school. There is a runoff path from each platform that leads to a small pond. Here the water is allowed to stagnate for animals, and keeps them away from the pumping platform, to allow for cleanliness at the water source. The animal pond runs off into a gravel pit where the water is filtered before being returned to the ground source. It is a very innovative process that works without a hitch for the most part, but in some cases, the water was allowed to stagnate too long, and there was severe microbial and algae growth. The cows didn't seem to mind however, and a group being herded past us stopped for a quick drink just long enough for me to snap a quick picture.

In some instances, communities had pooled together the ¢2 000 000 investement required to begin construction of a borehole. Although it is just a fraction of the cost to dig, it is a sizeable investment for which OIC guarantees a return should the initial analysis prove unsuccessful.

After passing through Gombaga, we encountered a rare sight. A drilling maching was in position surrounded by a slew of contractors busily pulling levers and pushing buttons as the drill let out a deafening roar to the hundreds of villagers who had come to see the spectacle. This was probably the most fascinating thing that they would see that day, that is until Marka and myself pulled up in the NGOSUV. The children were not sure whether to stare at the drilling operation, or at us, and were constantly looking back and forth the whole time we were there. We talked to the local drilling coordinator who informed us that this dig was not providing the yields they had hoped for, but they had dug two very successful holes in the days prior.

Contractors drill a new borehole in a community in Northeastern Ghana.

The drilling truck can be seen with the NGOSUV in the background.

Contractors test the flowrate of the new borehole using some pretty basic techniques. They dig a trench from the drill site and into a tube, where they use a bucket and a timer to determine the pressure of the hole that was dug. In this case, the drilling operation was not a huge success, and did not create the flowrate required. They will test it for a few days, and if it does not improve, the location will be abandoned.

The drilling operation was the biggest show in town, and attracted hundreds of people from the village, primarily children. The drilling operation was the biggest spectacle, until we showed up.

We stayed at the Rabito guesthouse that night, and headed back to Gombaga the next morning.

The next day we payed a visit to some millet farms that dotted the countryside, and looked at some OIC-constructed post harvest storage facilities. These were built to prevent immediate spoilage of farmers goods immediately after harvest. Farmers could store food longer to sustain themselves and their families, or store food to sell to market at later dates when it was not flooded with similar product causing drastic price decreases.

Some Interesting Pictures:

A millet farm in rural Ghana. The setting sun provided a spectacular backdrop to our first tour of a rural farm. This is the typical sight in the agricultural parts of Northern Ghana. The soil is very shallow, and below it is clay and bedrock, creating ideal soil erosion situations which are hard to cope with.

A post-harvest lost storage house at the same millet farm pictured above. This shed allows farmers to store their harvest for longer periods of time to sustain their family or sell to market with their product is not readily avaiable. This allows them to make a maximum profit for their product. Not too shabby.

The Damongo Tour

2006-05-18T23:55:00.000-04:00

My first mistake was to plan out an agenda for my first week of work.

We arrived promptly at 8AM Monday, May 15th for our first day of work, and waited in the Conference Room for instructions. After one or two hours we assumed that they were still getting things together, but after 4 hours, we realized something was up. Mondays are planning days at OICT, so down the hall behind the closed oak door of the PM's office, the district managers were busily reviewing their operations for the last week, criticizing, learning, and growing, with the Program Manager. The meeting began shortly after 9am, at which point Marka and myself were to be driven to one of OIC's training centres nearby. However, in the isolation of the Conference Room, we sat ignorantly for hours on end, reading months of old newspapers from across the region. (Newspapers and the media will be discussed in a more indepth report in July).

It wasn't until we enquired about stepping out for lunch did the managers realize we had never actually left the building and since it was our first day, we did not want to interrupt such a critical planning meeting. So we went for lunch and came back to discover that there was no transportation available for the afternoon because all of the NGOSUVs were taken, and we began the long journey back home, thus concluding our first day of work with OIC.

The rest of the week would prove to be extraordinary.

On Tuesday morning we met with Osmund, the regional Micro-Enterprise Coordinator and my boss. We packed a few things and headed for Damongo in our NGOSUV. Damongo is where I will be based, but since we were just being given an overview of all OICT projects, I would return to Tamale the next day. The road to Damongo is in rough shape. The first half hour is paved, but the highway turns south to Kumasi, at which point we take a right turn and head down a rocky path that challenges some of Canada's best off road courses. The further along the road we went, the deeper the red of the earth; at times appearing almost as a path of lava that spewed up behind our heads as we sped down in the NGOSUV.

The Road to Damongo in the NGOSUV

Cows flee to avoid the NGOSUV

Suprisingly, in just over an hour, we arrived in Damongo, after hearing that the trek would take approximately four hours. We settled into our accomodations, and I immediately took a nap. We met at six again with Osmund, and went to find some dinner. After dinner, we started to visit some OIC projects in the area. Damongo is the destination for several OIC initiatives, such as cassava processing, bee keeping, and a few other various training centres.

We started by visiting a local cassava processing unit operated by a group of women. While only some member women were present, and the chief was nowhere to be found, we got a quick tour of the facility, but the shed in which the cassava grinder could be found was locked, so we would have to return the next day.

Osmund explained to us the new technologies that were used to process cassava, to create a dry ground final product called gari.

The OIC signboard which designates each OIC funded project in Northern Ghana. Here, the signboard introduces one of our cassava processing facilities. The 20' x 10' covered concrete slab houses a shed which contains a cassava shredder attached to a small diesel engine, and another area where the cassava is pressed, bagged, and sorted.

The cassava grinder housed in the shed can grate cassava at a much faster rate than using conventional methods. This allows faster processing and increased gari production.

Pictured right is the cassava press which compresses the
sacs of cassava to extract water. This press is the focus of our first Point of Analysis.

The gari processing is very intensive and labourious. When women used to process it entirely by hand, it would be ground using an unrolled tin with holes punctured through it with sticks. The women would grind the cassava against the can, which was nailed to two sticks at each end to keep it straight. They would then sac the ground cassava, and smash the sac between rocks to extract water. The dried final product is gari.

The new process, pictured above, uses a cassava grinder (the women must first peel the cassava), and then the ground cassava is placed in burlap sacs and pressed for several hours using the cassava press. The smell of the pressed cassava is quite foul, and the runoff water is so corrosive, that it eats through the concrete floor of the cassava processing centre. This is the focus of my new Analysis Point (please see post titled "Analysis Point"

The first women's group we visited has been succesfully operating their cassava processing unit for several years. Their press is on uneven ground however, and it would be ideal to prevent further bending of the materials before it happens.

Another cooperative we ventured to that evening was not as successful. The petrol generator was in poor condition, and had to be taken in for servicing. We discovered the group had often let the gas run dry before refuelling, allowing sediments from the fuel into the engine and damaging one of the pistons.

There were three different centres we visited in our two day stay in Damongo. Each will be reviewed and analysed more indepth at a later date when I begin working with these groups on a regular basis.

We returned to Tamale Wednesday night and I fell ill from the lunch we had eaten. It was a rough night, but I was lucky enough to have a semi-functioning toilet close at hand. I would have to recover quickly however, because on Thursday morning, Marka and myself would travel to the far Northeastern region of Ghana, to visit Gombaga, the area where she will be based.

Q: What am I doing?

2006-05-14T10:24:00.000-04:00

I will be based out of Damongo, in the West Ganja District of Northern Ghana. Projects I will be involved with include a cassava processing system, or gari processing, as well as a beehive implementation system, for honey processing in the Northern Region. All programs will focus on the empowerment of women in the projects, and bring about new income-generating techniques for thousands of people who earn less than $1 a day.

My specific project, Micro-Enterprise, focuses on building economies which are not only sustainable, but welcome, because they are fostered and supported by local people who are investing in their own achievements and lifting themselves out of poverty in a true entrepreneurial spirit. To do this, we examine local communities and determine if a specific technology is appropriate for their use, and together with the community develop a plan to implement the technology.

I will travel to different regions throughout Ghana on a daily basis to work with women's groups and communities on their plans for processing equipment. Most of the travelling will take place on a motorbike, with some Ghanaian travel books and my laptop thrown over my shoulder. I will be on the road quite a bit, and will report as much as often.

After this first week in Ghana, I will be posting rather infrequently, but be assured that you will be taken along for all of these amazing journeys.

The Agenda Week 2

2006-05-14T10:18:00.000-04:00

A look at the week ahead:

Monday May 15th - Friday May 19th, 2006

Monday - My first full day of work with OIC. I will outline my project goals and outlines for the rest of the placement, and pack my things before I finally leave Tamale for good.

Tuesday - OIC will be taking Marka and myself to Damongo, where we will start our respective projects with our field officers. Marka will be analyzing bore hole placements, while I will be looking at cassava processing units and honey production systems for rural womens' groups.

Wednesday - settle into Damongo and start looking for a host family. I am home.

Saturday - I will venture into Mole National Park for the first time, the main tourist attraction in all of Ghana. I will be based just minutes away from the main gates, so will probably frequent this attraction or become a tour-guide for the other EWB volunteers who venture up to this region.

The NGO

2006-05-14T10:13:00.000-04:00

DAY FOUR

Friday, May 12th, 2006

Friday was NGO day. Tamale is the NGO capital of the world, and it lived up to its name as we entered the NGO sector of the city, where Oxfam and WorldVision catherals sit behind guarded gates and thorn-ridden walls. OIC was down the same road as Oxfam. Luke took us over as a group and we all split up to go meet our respective partners. We did not realize that OIC was much further down the road than we originally planned, and we also took a few wrong turns because the signboards directing us in the proper direction had been removed. We ended up arriving at OIC an hour late. A great first impression for a new partner organization to think about Engineers Without Borders. However, in Ghanaian fashion, were were just in time. The regional coordinator left for another meeting, but we were able to meet with our local directors, as well as meet some of the staff. We booked another meeting for 2pm that day, and then headed off to the main road to find our way to Luke's office.

We were introduced to Nancy Cosway, who works for the Canadian High Commission. She has been living in Tamale for many years, and is in charge of contacting all Canadians in the region if there is an emergency. This is an extra precaution that goes beyond EWB's already stringent Emergency Response Plan (ERP), but comforting to know that the government will be aware of our location if there is an immediate danger. She was also a nurse and offered to help us out with any health concerns.

After filling out the forms, we headed out to Luke's favourite lunch spot for some fried yams. They are served with hot sauce, curry powder, and a beef sauce, and were so good that Marka and myself returned for dinner after work.

In the afternoon, we returned to OIC and met with our respective regional reps. Marka met with Patrick, the WATSAN (Water & Sanitation) Coordinator in Tamale, and I met with Osmund, who co-ordinates the Micro-Enterprise operations of OIC. The size of the organization is truly phenomenal for such a successful NGO. These were just two of the four areas in which OIC operates, and it has operations in seven districts throughout northern Ghana.

We finished our meetings, met with the Program Coordinator, and headed home in time to attend the farewell party for Tom and Eli. They are two long-term EWB volunteers who have been involved with the organization from the start. This summer, they will be trekking across Africa by bike, boat and foot as an awareness campaign for EWB in Canada. Their blogs and reports will be linked from here when they become available. We met at Tom's house and sat in a big group of about 30 people, sipping Fanta's, sharing stories and digestive cookies. After mingling with Tom's Tamale friends for some time, we headed to a local drinking spot, rightly called Point Seven. We enjoyed some Star Lager, which turned out to be a fantastic beer, which can be enjoyed in 750mL portions for just c7,000.

We headed home at around 12:30 for the weekend.

That was Day Four.

Pictures from Day Four are not yet available. Stay Tuned.

The Tamale Tour

2006-05-11T23:59:00.000-04:00

DAY THREE

Thursday, May 11th, 2006

Thursday morning was my first chance to catch up on almost three weeks of poor sleep. The girls returned with mangoes and plantains just as I finished my bucket shower. As we sat around eating fruit the school beside the hotel was singing songs. The goats and sheep around town were making their presence known, and the hotel managers sat in the tiny office watching a football match. All these sounds combined were quite overwhelming, and are just another image that will never leave me. We headed out to the market to forage for food and check out what Tamale had to offer. Finding food was much more difficult than I could have ever imagined. There were very few fresh vegetables, but an abundance of miniature mangoes and raw okra. Not too many options for a meal. There was also fresh cut meat everywhere, but since we were staying at a hotel and had no way to prepare the meal, this was also not an option. We finally settled on a loaf of bread and some plantains. Unfortunately, finding the essentials I required, such as a transformer for my battery charger, or an adapter for my cell phone proved much harder than I thought it would be. I eventually found everything I needed after walking around for several hours.

We ended off Thursday by going out for a few drinks at the local drinking spot before some of us left the next day. As it turns out, only Ben would end up leaving, and would return the next night for a party to give a proper send off to Tom and Eli (Their adventure will be explained soon).

We returned home and were in bed by 11. It would seem things are finally calming down, atleast until I meet with my NGO tomorrow.

This was Day Three.

The Road to Tamale

2006-05-10T23:59:00.000-04:00

DAY TWO

Wednesday, May 10th, 2006

After having trouble sleeping, I relaxed on the terrace of the hotel and watched the sunrise in Africa for the first time. By 5:45 everyone else was up, and we hastily packed and headed out to the State Transport bus terminal to board our bus to Accra. The scheduled departure for the bus was 8am, but the bus didn't actually arrive to the terminal until around 9am. We thought this was a disturbance, but from what we knew about the culture, we had come to expect it. The MoFArians, who had left the day before, had actually waited almost 5 hours to depart. We boarded the bus for our 12 hour journey to Tamale.

We left Accra, and headed NW through Koforidua through lush rainforests and an expansive construction project that saw most of the infrastructure of the highway being rebuilt. At first the delay did not bother us too much, but the same could not be said for the driver. The rest of the journey was spent at speeds not much lower than 120kmh, with many close calls, and even some smaller vehicles being forced off the road.

PHOTO CAPTION: Luke Brown, LTOV from Western, sits in the aisle for the trip to Tamale. His seat offered a poor view and poorer back support, but he took it all with a grin.

Ghanaian roads are amongst the most dangerous in the world, and this is something that I can certainly speak for. As evening approached, the impending thunderstorm and darkness did not ease our fears.

We travelled through Kumasi to Sunyani, as the lush rainforest gradually decreased in density until it became savannah. This occurred as darkness fell over the country, and the rains hit.

PHOTO CAPTION: The scenery slowly shifts from beautiful rainforest to a sparse savannah. This picture was taken during travel as we passed Kumasi.

Every three hours throughout the journey, we stopped at a local ST station for bathroom breaks and some snacks. Being relatively new to the culture, we stuck to what looked familiar. Plantains, loaves of sugar bread, salted plantain chips, and of course, sachet water packs, a phenomenon I will explain in detail when I look at water and sanitation indepth at a later date.

When not at a rest stop, the bus is approached by dozens of women selling everything from napkins, to q-tips, to 20 gallon jugs of olive oil, all perched mercilessly on their heads in quanities you could not imagine unless you saw it in person. They surround the bus yelling what they are selling as soon as it slows to below 20kmh.

In urban areas where the bus is slowed down, a large crowd forms outside the bus, and as we again pick up speed, the sounds of dozens of flip-flops cracking against the compacted dirt echoes through the bus. These sounds are of the women running alongside the bus, trying to complete their transactions. In some instances, the bus pulls away too quickly, leaving some bus passengers with product they have not yet paid for, or in other instances, have paid for or not yet received their change. In each of these circumstances, the issue was resolved in a number of ways.

Usually, when a transaction goes incomplete, most passengers yell at the driver to stop or slowdown so that the merchants can collect their money or returned product.

PHOTO CAPTION: As the bus speeds past village after village, we take in the sights and sounds of Western Ghana at 130kmh.

In other cases, the women toss off their flip-flops, raise their skirt to their knees, and sprint alongside the bus until they are in arms reach to return the change they took from the customer.

Lastly, if all else fails, the customer will return the product if it has not yet been paid for. Such an incident occurred several times on our day long journey to Tamale. One being when a bag of red peppers was not paid for, the passenger through the bag onto the side of the road, only to see the bag split open and peppers roll in every direction. The bus let out a unanimous moan, but the woman was still grateful that the product was returned.

In no circumstance was an item taken without being paid for, or no change returned. This is the social framework on which Ghanaians operate. One that I will get used to rather quickly.

The red dirt of the savannah rises up in an impenetrable cloud as we speed across the western region, slowing down for few if any other objects or people. The logging trucks take up most of the road, with their rainforest stumps weighing down the truck to the point of tipping. We wearily pass them, and in some instances, do so with just centimeters to spare between the truck and our bus.

This goes on long into the night, and we arrive in Tamale at 10pm. 13 hours after our journey has begun. We have arrived in Tamale.

This was Day Two.

The Accra Tour

2006-05-09T23:59:00.000-04:00

DAY ONE

Tuesday, May 9th, 2006

We pulled into the House of Lords hotel last night quite late, but immediately ventured out to experience the night market we had passed on the way in. Luke Brown, a long-term EWB volunteer from Western showed us around and at one of the first booths we encountered, we met a woman selling kenke, a fermented maize dough, with some onions, fish sauce, and some other spicy items. It was an interesting mix with the fermented corn and spicy sauces, and did not sit entirely well with me. Half of the group split up and found a restaurant further away and enjoyed some benke with ground-nut stew.

We later ventured back to the hotel and fell asleep quickly from the two days of travel we had just endured. The next morning, the group of 23 was split up. 12 people, working for the Ghanaian Ministry of Food and Agriculture, left for a bus to Tamale to meet their host families, directors, etc.

This is where our stories split. The MoFA people had quite an adventure getting to Tamale. To read their story, please read one of the following blogs (the links can be found to the right):

Apoorva, Jeff, Jamaal, Dave, Elisa, Chloe, Dan, Jeff, Deborah, Jon, Mike and Ghislaine will be working with the Ministry of Food and Agriculture. After 10 days of being together, they have separated and left for Tamale, a destination we will head to tomorrow.

Tuesday morning, those who remained at the House of Lords, myself, Marka, Troy, Mari, Jess, Bryn, Ben, Ian, Sabrina & Samina and Sarah, were left in the hotel to sleep in a little until around 9am. Those working with KITE, Troy, Mari and Jess, ran some errands with Monica, an LTOV, while the remaining eight of us set off to the market in Accra for the day.

We traversed the market for an hour or two and split up into smaller groups. The market was almost entirely indoors in a multi-floored building that resembled a parking garage. The exterior was painted bright yellow, and the perimeter was filled with women selling everything from salted fish to tomatoes and mangoes. The smells from the market were immense, and followed you to the upper floors, which were primarily dealing with textiles. We met a few women who we talked to for a while, introducing ourselves with the Ghanaian names we were given during pre-departure training. My Ghanaian name is Akwonko, meaning Wednesday-born.

Midway through our discussion, the bustling sounds of hundreds of sewing machines ground to a halt and we experienced our first Accra power-failure. The women in the market said it was a rare occurrence, happening only a few times a month. However in the 24 hours we remained in Accra, it would occur three more times.

In the darkness of the indoor market women stuffed into tiny cubicles quickly salvaged what they could of their work after the power went out. They sat patiently by their machines, waiting for the power to return so they could get back to work to prepare their customers clothing. The sound of diesel generators could be heard in the distance, and for the most part, all that could be heard now was traffic. The people in the market were rather quiet, no longer having to scream over the sound of the sewing machines.

We headed downstairs to find a meal, and met up with the other JFs just as the power came on.

We travelled to the tro-tro station across the street, and found a ride to Jamestown, at the south end of Accra and on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean.

Upon reaching Jamestown, we met a man, ironically enough named James. He showed us the way to the coast and showed us the Jamestown Fort which was built by the British in the late 19th century, and used during the Slave Trade. It is now a prison, and its high red mud-brick walls were adorned with crowns of sharded glass and iron spikes protruding from their topmost surface.

We headed down to the beach on the very roads built to transfer slaves to their awaiting ships, and encountered a rather quiet and subdued fishing market. A few boats were anchored in the harbour, empty, with their nets drawn and folded neatly over the bow. The rest were on shore, either in maintenance or pointed at the sea in anticipation of the next fishing trip. James later informed us that since it was Tuesday, there would be little to no fishing taking place. This is because it was the 2nd day of the week, or the day God created Water. As a symbolic gesture, fishermen pass on their lucrative yields for another day, and rest on the shores or visit family.

After leaving the beach, we ventured to a drinking spot and enjoyed some Fantas with James. We discovered that he is a teacher of history and religions in a high school in Accra. He had much to say of Ghana's past, political status, and the pride that every Ghanaian has in his country. His main focal points and pride in Ghana came in two aspects:

Ghana is Free.

Ghana is Peaceful.

There was no greater atmosphere in which James wished to raise his family, whom he spoke of proudly, and would later introduce us to.

He showed us the way back to the tro-tro from where we came and we headed back to the hotel, late in the day and exhausted from our journey through Accra. We set our mental alarm for 5:45 the next day, which would prove much more adventurous, with a 12 hour busride to Tamale, in the Northern Region. However I had much trouble sleeping as I could not help but reflect on the lessons we had learned, and the journey we were about to embark on.

This was Day One.

Welcome to Ghana

2006-05-08T18:10:00.000-04:00

Thank you everyone for e-mailing your concerns and requests for pictures and information. I have arrived safely in Tamale, Ghana after nearly four days of travelling. The journey is not yet over, however, and after meeting with my partner NGO tomorrow morning, I will travel to Domonga, Ghana, in the Northern Region where I will spend the majority of my placement.

I am slowly compiling records of each of the days I have spent here so far. I will post when it becomes feasible. As for photos, the files are large, and I have not yet figured out a way to get them uploaded yet. I can assure you, the pictures are beautiful, and for a taste of what we have seen, please browse the other JF blogs whose links can be found down the right menu of this page.

Composing the first week into this blog will take some time, likely several weeks, as I will be spending much time rocketing across the Northern Region of Ghana.

Also, for the people keeping track, I will be sure to post each city we visit.

Until I post again, take care, and please leave comments on the blog. I will not be checking my e-mail too often, and I will not be sending replies to any e-mails, except for extreme circumstances.

The Sahara

2006-05-08T11:59:00.000-04:00

DAY ZERO

With a last minute breakfast in Toronto, Danny (UofA EWB Canada Intern), and my coach for this JFID placement, took us for Mexican food seemingly to mock us as we were about to endure several days of travel. The meal went down well however, as did his advice informing us of EWBs expectations for filing reports and questions about our work overseas.

With some last minute packing, we left for the airport, and were in Amsterdam after a few scotches, beers and wines and a short nap. In Amsterdam, we generally split up and some headed to the roof of the airport to get in some fresh air before the next leg. I made the mistake of staying indoors the whole time on a beautiful day in the city. However before we knew it, we were off again on our second flight, a strikingly beautiful flight directly south to Accra over the Sahara Desert. Scattered across the vast wasteland were blowing sand dunes and tiny villages near small oasis' of trees and lakes.

After a little more wine, we arrived in Accra in a humid night. We boarded the shuttle bus which drove us the 30m from the airplane to the terminal (we were not allowed to walk), and we flew through immigration. We left the airport to hectic scenes of chaos in the perimeter of the terminal. We were in Accra, Ghana.

Monday Night 7pm Ghana time.

The training photos

2006-05-06T00:30:00.000-04:00

Sorry about the lack of feedback.

I have attached some pictures that should hold you down until I arrive and get settled in Ghana.

Pre-Departure training has been incredibly intense and eye-opening.

CAPTION: JF trainees relax outside during a one week intensive training session in Toronto.

CAPTION: Fellows sit through a three-hour Q&A session with the co-founders and CEOs of EWB Canada.

CAPTION: EWB members in the training house after a Ghanaian dinner. There are 27 people staying at the EWB house, with two bathrooms, one shower, three bedrooms, 7 bunkbeds, and 9 air mattresses.

The Training

2006-05-01T23:58:00.000-04:00

Good Evening

Well my camera problems have been solved. I picked up a new one the morning of my arrival in Toronto.

After a meeting with Louis, Director of West Africa Projects for EWB, I have also discovered more information regarding my exact location when we arrive in Ghana. Rather than being based in Tamale, I will be based four hours to the west, in a smaller town working on irrigation and agriculture projects in the northern region.

EWB members have settled into the house, and things are tight. I have attached some photos for your enjoyment.

Training has been intense, and quite indepth, including sessions with the EWB travel doctor discussing everything from cushion worms to rabid dog bites. We have looked at the cultural differences we will experience once we get on the ground, and got a sneak peak behind EWB after some Ethiopian food at a local restaurant. The training sessions have been split into two groups, one representing the Ministry of Food & Agriculture, and the other for the various other placements, of which I am a part.

The idea of creating a new partnership between OICI and EWB is very exciting, and I look forward to being a part of the long-term relationship that can come from this placement.

I will have more info coming soon, such as the location of my new placement, and some answers to the many questions you have sent via email.

Good night.

The training house

2006-04-28T21:13:00.000-04:00

Well I have arrived at the EWB training house. 12 Treford Street in Toronto is a cozy three bedroom duplex with three floors of bedding for the dozens of overseas volunteers who will sleep under this roof over the next several weeks.

Genevieve will be meeting them all, and will be lucky enough to live and learn with two full week JF training sessions, a President's Conference, and a 4-week long-term volunteer session, all of which will take place right here in this house.

I am on a stopover on my way to Pickering for the weekend, but I will return Sunday morning to the training house for six days of intense workshops and sessions to prepare myself for the May 7th departure to Tamale.

I am going to try to take some pictures of the house when all the JFs get here, but my camera is giving me problems. This is very dangerous because it may stop working during my placement. As of right now it has no photo-taking ability, but I will do my best to get it working before I leave.

Unfortunately I do not have the funds to buy a new camera at this point, so all the pictures on this blog for the next few months may be of an inferior quality. I apologize, and be assured that there are 41 other JFs who will have awesome cameras and I will regularly post links to their photos. Until then, enjoy these shots of the training house that Danny (UofA EWB Canada intern) took.

The placement

2006-04-18T18:06:00.000-04:00

More information has been provided regarding EWB's involvement in OICI.

Myself, along with Marka Jansen, of McMaster University, and Kristy Minor, of the University of Waterloo will be working on a vast array of projects throughout northern Ghana, including, but not limited to agriculture, water & sanitation, HIV/AIDS awareness and education, micro-entreprise development, etc.

While Marka and myself will only be in Tamale until August, Kristy, who will be joining us in early July, will be involved in the project until June 2007.

Specifically, here are some of the projects we might get involved in:

Kyle: Micro-entreprise and general agricultural development

Marka: Sanitation and hygiene promotion

Kristy: Micro-irrigation promotion, micro-credit, post harvest technologies,
marketing, etc.

Stay tuned! I will continue to give everyone updates as we approach final pre-departure training in Toronto. I arrive in Tamale on May 9th, 2006.

Kyle

The interview

2006-04-15T17:56:00.000-04:00

Good evening,

As promised, here is a link to the CBC Story about EWB-Windsor. It is about 13 minutes into this clip. Enjoy, and let us know what you think (Comments can be posted at the end of each update).

The CBC

2006-04-09T23:18:00.000-04:00

In a continuing series of EWB in the media, we have a special Broadcast Alert for everyone:

Monday Night, CBC Windsor will be showing a story regarding our new EWB chapter at the University of Windsor, and the progress we have made over the last year. They will feature our HSO & JF programs.

The story will be shown on CBC-TV Windsor at 6PM ET on Canada Now Windsor.

We will have a link to the story in the days after it is aired.

Thank you, and good night.

The partner

2006-04-07T21:26:00.000-04:00

Overseas, I will be working with OICI,

"OICI is a self-help movement; a collaboration between grass roots community leaders in Africa and committed individuals in the United States and from around the world. OIC International has been fostering economic self-reliance in Africa, Poland and The Philippines for 35 years."

You can read more about the organization here...

Blog Start

2006-04-01T16:25:00.000-05:00

The blog has been established. The blog. This is the blog. The BLOG. BLLLLLLLAAAAUUUUGGGGHH. This should be an interesting four months. You're in for a treat.

Some sites to visit:
My chapter: uwindsor.ewb.ca
My job: www.peppersbarandgrill.com
My time: www.cbc.ca
My friends: www.filmage.ca

People Profile

2006-04-01T01:10:00.001-05:00

A look at the people on the ground in Ghana who have made a difference in my placement. By providing details and info about them, I hope to bring you closer to the day to day interactions I encounter with the people of Ghana.

Luke Brown
Luke is a Long-term volunteer from the University of Western Ontario, in London. He is on a working Partnership with EWB Canada, and works for the CWSA (Community Water and Sanitation Agency) based out of Tamale, Ghana. He greeted us at the airport along with LTOV's Monica, Eli, and Robyn. For the first few days Luke showed us the ropes in everything from finding a cab to buying mangoes (which by the way are awesome). He also was our guide to Accra, and accompanied us back to his Ghanaian home of Tamale.

James
A teacher from Jamestown, at the southernmost tip of Accra on the coast. He lives in the village area and commutes into town each day to teach. He spent several hours with us discussing Ghana and the various aspects of the region. You can read about our full encounters with him in the Day One Indepth.

Monica, Robyn & Eli
LTOVs from across Canada, who greeted us at the airport and successfully managed to get 23 stunned volunteers to their rooms in under an hour. From arguing for cabs to venturing out into the market with us, it is these LTOVs which made our first few hours on a new continent less overwhelming. Each accompanied a different group of volunteers across Ghana to their placements.

Emmanuelle
the hotel-keeper at the Maacos hotel in Tamale, where we spent several nights before heading out to our more permanent rural villages. Emmanuelle was the last person to sleep everynight, and the first one up. He was incredible to talk to and always provided great insider knowledge about Tamale. He was very excited with our stay, and I am sure I will be staying at the Maacos during my frequent trips to Tamale over the next few months.

People Profile

2006-04-01T01:10:00.000-05:00

Definitions & Terminology

2006-04-01T01:08:00.000-05:00

There have been some questions regarding the terminology I have been using. The following guide will hopefully provide some answers and insight into what I am talking about throughout this placement. Enjoy! If I am missing an explanation for anything, please let me know.

EWB - Engineers Without Borders Canada
Canada's fastest growing development organization with over 17 000 members accross the country, which strives to use appropriate technology to drive extraordinary change in the socio-economic lives of people living in extreme poverty. To date, EWB has sent over 200 volunteers overseas to work in various capacities around the world. EWB will work with OIC for the first time in 2006.

JF - Junior Fellow
A student who commits to a two year term with EWB, and participates in a four month overseas volunteer placement where they will be partnered with another organization to provide opportunities outlined in the EWB Charter.

JFID - Junior Fellowship in International Development
EWBs volunteer-sending program which will see 42 volunteers sent overseas this summer to work for various other organnzations. Also referred to as:
STOV - Short Term Overseas volunteer
OP21 - Operation 21 Placement
OV - Overseas Volunteer

LTOV - Long-term Overseas Volunteer
A long-term volunteer placement through EWB which can last from eight months to two years depending on the project. LTOV's generally focus on having greater impact, and prepare projects for the JFID program.

OIC - Opportunities Industrialization Centres
An organization catalyzed through the civil rights movement in the United States which strives to provide appropriate technology to provide people with the means necessary to lift themselves out of poverty.

Also known as
OICT - OIC Tamale
OICI-GH - OIC Ghana
OICI - OIC International

WP - Working Partnership
This program teams up an LTOV with a JF and a chapter, for which the LTOV provides resources and materials for the chapter to use, who then fundraises to send a JF overseas to work with the LTOV on their project for four months. This is a new program, and Windsor has not yet taken part.

Other acronyms I will use regularly:

AIDS - Acquired Immuno-Deficiency Syndrome
GDP - Gross Domestic Product
NGO - Non-Governmental Organization
Northern Region - The area of Ghana which sits north of Volta Lake, and spans the entire width of the country.
USAID - United States International Development Agency
CIDA - Canadian International Development Agency
DFID - Department for International Development (UK)
WATSAN - Water & Sanitation Projects
ME - Micro-Enterprise Projects

Terms I have coined:
NGOSUV or NGOBUS - Vehicles NGOs use for transportation. Usually the largest, cleanest vehicles on the road.

I hope that these explanations can explain some terms for you that I will use regularly throughout this placement weblog.