This all feels a little like the morning after Christmas. "What now?" The question hangs in the air, surreal and impenetrable, following me around like these wonderstruck children. We actually did it. Well, there's still plenty to do, but a big driving force in our lives has been removed. Our organizing logic is gone. Now we just have six days to tie up loose ends, see old friends, and wring a few more revelations out of this continent. It doesn't seem like enough time, but I'm still restless to go. The week after my arrival in Canada will be my first proper vacation in six months.
The Togo trip we were supposed to take didn't really happen. We had already discovered that we couldn't receive a visa on the spot in Nyive, so we decided to road trip it to the nearest big crossing, which is at a town called Aflao (pronounced "A-plow", which strikes me as a mailbox's last words), right across the border from Lome, the Togolese capital. Our plan was to visit our chief, eat some French food, ride horses on the beach, and scoot home two nights later.
Well, we got stamped out of Ghana and approached the Togolese immigration officials, only to discover that the price for the visa was higher than expected. Considerably. Unfortunately, I didn't figure out how much higher until I had already authorized the imigration officials to give us our stamps. He quoted us a price in francs (20,000), which an obliging cash hustler offered to change into cedis for us. The problem is that the exchange rate has rocketed as the cedi has devalued in the last year, meaning that our visas were going to cost us over $100 in total (graft included).
By the time I worked out that, not only did I not have that much money with me, but I didn't have enough money to buy visas and also stay in Lome, our passports had been stamped and it was too late. In response to my lame explanation of the situation, the immigration guy stuffed our passports in a drawer and proceeded to ignore us. No choice but to pay.
By this time I was having a large-scale anxiety attack, and insisted that since we couldn't afford to stay, we should turn around and go home. Although it probably would've been both cheaper and easier to spend one night in Lome and just hightail it in the morning, I was so frantic and psyched out by the cops and customs officers that I made us go back to Ho instead. We barely made it to Nyive on the last car of the night, around 10:30 - tired, caked in dirt, and destined to be famished until morning - with only a Togolese stamp in our passports to show for it.
Luckily, our $100-visas should enable us to enter again, so we are planning a trip to Kpalime tomorrow for a nice meal to celebrate my new favourite holiday, "8/7 Day" (i.e. Sidney Crosby's birthday). While I hear that Halifax will be swamped with fans enjoying a Stanley Cup parade, sadly we will have to make do with baguettes and stir-fry. (Apparently Togo's a good place to get Chinese food.)
Needless to say, this experience, if nothing else, got me psyched for home. Only five more sleeps to indoor plumbing, six more sleeps to an airport full of absurdly handsome Arab men, and seven more sleeps to all my loved ones!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Friday, July 31, 2009
We Did It!
I'm pleased to announce that the Nyive Community ICT Centre/Library was officially commissioned this Wednesday, July 29th, by the Municipal Director of Education, the Municipal Chief Executive of Ho, and the Regional Librarian. Friends, family and supporters...WE DID IT!
The commissioning ceremony was quite the festival, attended by several hundred schoolchildren and dignitaries, including those mentioned above. This excellent turnout was entertained by musical performances from all of Nyive's churches, as well as a dancing display by students from the junior secondary school. (They were also treated to some impromptu bad Canadian dancing by me and Jessi, at the express request of the chiefs.) After the ribbon-cutting, the schoolchildren followed the VIPs into their new library to look at the three computers and approximately 300 books shelved inside. The shouts of astonishment from the excited primary students was all I needed to know that we had accomplished something tremendous.
It was a great day, but the ceremony itself was only the cherry on top. Finishing the library was a labour of love. I use the word "finish" pretty loosely; we still have a lot of cataloguing and organizing to do, some minor purchases to make, and some training to pass on before we leave. Even after our departure, our efforts to improve the library will be ongoing. But after this past week of yawning my way through 8-hour cataloguing sessions, picking bits of cello tape out of my hair, and negotiating the expectations of our event-planners, I'm happy to sit back for a moment and look at everything we've accomplished.
To all those of you who missed my speech (i.e. everyone but Jessi), you should know that you got a warm thank-you from me and a big round of applause from the people of Nyive. They are all extremely touched that people in Canada would give so generously to help a small village so far away. And so am I. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart! You've not only made my dreams come true, but you've helped ensure that the students of Nyive will receive a better education and a better chance in life. And you've helped them feel that they, too, deserve that chance - something they badly needed to know.
I'm equally pleased to say that we finished the project within our time frame and under-budget. (Take that, every government in the world!) We will be using the remaining $500 of our budget to buy some small items for the library, such as power bars for the computers and stationary for the librarian (who is due to arrive in September), as well as some further capacity building training for the CBO, so they can move on to their next project.
Meanwhile, there's more exciting news from our personal lives: Jessi has gone through a preliminary installation as a chief of Nyive. She is now Mama Afenyo, a "youth leader" of the village. A small indoor ceremony took place on Tuesday evening. Her full public enstoolment has been postponed until next year, due to the sad death of Torbgui Kotoko, one of the village's chiefs, this past week. It is against tradition to enstool a new chief publically until the late chief has been properly buried, which can't happen for some time, due to the grandiose nature of his funeral ceremony. So Jessi will be coming back (hopefully) next summer to be enstooled, along with a new Torgbui Kotoko and a new paramount chief of Nyive, in what promises to be the triple-threat enstoolment ceremony of the century!! Anyone with the spare change for the transatlantic flight is invited to Ghana to join us in the eight days of revelry that will attend this grand event. We can dance the night away together around the borborbor drumming circle; the schnapps will flow freely and the fufu will never run out.
Some pictures of the big day (and the preparation for it) are on Jessi's blog at thespottedjessicat.blogspot.com. I'll be posting some of my own in a few minutes. Stay tuned!
The commissioning ceremony was quite the festival, attended by several hundred schoolchildren and dignitaries, including those mentioned above. This excellent turnout was entertained by musical performances from all of Nyive's churches, as well as a dancing display by students from the junior secondary school. (They were also treated to some impromptu bad Canadian dancing by me and Jessi, at the express request of the chiefs.) After the ribbon-cutting, the schoolchildren followed the VIPs into their new library to look at the three computers and approximately 300 books shelved inside. The shouts of astonishment from the excited primary students was all I needed to know that we had accomplished something tremendous.
It was a great day, but the ceremony itself was only the cherry on top. Finishing the library was a labour of love. I use the word "finish" pretty loosely; we still have a lot of cataloguing and organizing to do, some minor purchases to make, and some training to pass on before we leave. Even after our departure, our efforts to improve the library will be ongoing. But after this past week of yawning my way through 8-hour cataloguing sessions, picking bits of cello tape out of my hair, and negotiating the expectations of our event-planners, I'm happy to sit back for a moment and look at everything we've accomplished.
To all those of you who missed my speech (i.e. everyone but Jessi), you should know that you got a warm thank-you from me and a big round of applause from the people of Nyive. They are all extremely touched that people in Canada would give so generously to help a small village so far away. And so am I. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart! You've not only made my dreams come true, but you've helped ensure that the students of Nyive will receive a better education and a better chance in life. And you've helped them feel that they, too, deserve that chance - something they badly needed to know.
I'm equally pleased to say that we finished the project within our time frame and under-budget. (Take that, every government in the world!) We will be using the remaining $500 of our budget to buy some small items for the library, such as power bars for the computers and stationary for the librarian (who is due to arrive in September), as well as some further capacity building training for the CBO, so they can move on to their next project.
Meanwhile, there's more exciting news from our personal lives: Jessi has gone through a preliminary installation as a chief of Nyive. She is now Mama Afenyo, a "youth leader" of the village. A small indoor ceremony took place on Tuesday evening. Her full public enstoolment has been postponed until next year, due to the sad death of Torbgui Kotoko, one of the village's chiefs, this past week. It is against tradition to enstool a new chief publically until the late chief has been properly buried, which can't happen for some time, due to the grandiose nature of his funeral ceremony. So Jessi will be coming back (hopefully) next summer to be enstooled, along with a new Torgbui Kotoko and a new paramount chief of Nyive, in what promises to be the triple-threat enstoolment ceremony of the century!! Anyone with the spare change for the transatlantic flight is invited to Ghana to join us in the eight days of revelry that will attend this grand event. We can dance the night away together around the borborbor drumming circle; the schnapps will flow freely and the fufu will never run out.
Some pictures of the big day (and the preparation for it) are on Jessi's blog at thespottedjessicat.blogspot.com. I'll be posting some of my own in a few minutes. Stay tuned!
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Roach is Not Enough
So, if you've been keeping up with Jessi's blog (thespottedjessicat.blogspot.com), you know this week kind of sucked. We've been having ups and downs on all fronts, from library progress to homesickness to digestion to insect life. Here's the lowdown on all things Ghana this week:
The library comissioning is ONE WEEK AWAY and the scramble has begun! The CBO, bless their hearts, are trying to pull together a starstudded ceremony, including local municipal officials, the MP, and other dignitaries, with yours truly doing the ribbon cutting. At the prompting of the chiefs, they are also considering enstooling Jessi as a sub-chief of the village (exactly which position is still unclear) on the same day. Needless to say, it's going to be an eventful Wednesday!
Jessi, given her library experience, has spearheaded the cataloguing process - she has us assigning call numbers and Dewey Decimals and taping the edges of books. The problem is, there are some 200 books to process and we only have a week. We're hoping to establish an assembly line of willing volunteers, but we're having some trouble coordinating it. Nails are being bitten and hair is being torn, but I think we're going to survive.
The library building itself has been painted on the inside, an expense which I was reluctant to approve but which has made an amazing difference in the feel of the place. It no longer feels like a half-finished building, held together by duct tape; it seems like a really nice place, something the community has invested in and can show off to the local officials with pride. The painter very generously donated his labour for food money, God bless his heart! Our carpenters are still at it, making furniture and installing locks on the doors. Soon the building will be ready to move computers and books into. Then it will really feel complete!
Wish us the best of luck in the meantime! Only three weeks left now!
The library comissioning is ONE WEEK AWAY and the scramble has begun! The CBO, bless their hearts, are trying to pull together a starstudded ceremony, including local municipal officials, the MP, and other dignitaries, with yours truly doing the ribbon cutting. At the prompting of the chiefs, they are also considering enstooling Jessi as a sub-chief of the village (exactly which position is still unclear) on the same day. Needless to say, it's going to be an eventful Wednesday!
Jessi, given her library experience, has spearheaded the cataloguing process - she has us assigning call numbers and Dewey Decimals and taping the edges of books. The problem is, there are some 200 books to process and we only have a week. We're hoping to establish an assembly line of willing volunteers, but we're having some trouble coordinating it. Nails are being bitten and hair is being torn, but I think we're going to survive.
The library building itself has been painted on the inside, an expense which I was reluctant to approve but which has made an amazing difference in the feel of the place. It no longer feels like a half-finished building, held together by duct tape; it seems like a really nice place, something the community has invested in and can show off to the local officials with pride. The painter very generously donated his labour for food money, God bless his heart! Our carpenters are still at it, making furniture and installing locks on the doors. Soon the building will be ready to move computers and books into. Then it will really feel complete!
Wish us the best of luck in the meantime! Only three weeks left now!
Monday, July 13, 2009
My and Roachio down the schoolyard...
For weeks now, Ghana has been abuzz over the impending visit from President Barack Obama. (And by "impending", I mean the one that just went by this weekend.) After touching down in Accra on Friday, the President held closed-door talks with the newly elected Ghanaian head of state, President John Atta-Mills, before taking the First Family to the city of Cape Coast for a tour of one of Ghana's most important landmarks. (Check out my previous blog posts for thoughts on Cape Coast castle and the slave trade.)
Anyway, seeing as we really like Cape Coast, and also really like Obama, Jessi and I decided to head down that way and see if we could catch a glimpse of the man - or, at the very least, partake of Ghana's excitement over his arrival. For those not in the knew: Obama chose to make his first state visit to sub-Saharan Africa to Ghana, rather than the more obvious choices of Kenya (his father's country) and Nigeria (the most populous and also most self-important African nation). The reason for this choice? Ghana's success at creating and maintaining a stable democracy. And if you're feeling cynical about that, I can confirm that yes, the average Ghanaian does indeed have at least as thorough and levelheaded understanding of democracy as the average Canadian. It's more than just hype, folks!
Needless to say, both Kenya and Nigeria were royally shamed by the snub. (Nigeria a little more so - see above comments re: self-important). Ghana, by contrast, was thrilled. The streets were suddenly filled with vendors selling random Obama paraphernalia. The most striking was probably the wax print cloth bearing a repeated pattern of Obama's face on a Democrat-blue background. I have been joking for days that I want to buy several yards of this cloth and make sleepwear out of them, a.k.a. Obama pyjamas. (I've spent all weekend singing Paul Simon's "Me & Julio Down by the Schoolyard", with "Obama pyjama" substituted into the first line.)
Somewhat more disconcerting is the amount of swag that has not been manufactured for the purpose of promoting the Obama visit, but instead has capitalized on it by randomly attaching the name "Barack Obama" to it, like a brand name. We saw a kid in the station wearing a denim ensemble with the Obama label embroidered glaringly over wherever the embroidery for the actual brand name used to be. Jessi bought me an irresistable pair of flower-printed underwear with "Barack Obama" silk-screened over the ass. It's like witnessing the birth of the next generation of kitsch. Really moving stuff!
Meanwhile, on Friday we lobbed ourselves haphazardly into a tro=tro and took off for Cape Coast. It's minimum five-hour journey, done in three stages - first the three hours to Accra, then through Accra (which is usually congested enough to merit its own stage), and then two hours further west to Cape Coast. We did it on Friday, and then again on Sunday in the opposite direction, so we're understandably tired. However, the results were worth it. WE SAW OBAMA!
Allow me to qualify that. Our Ghanaian friend who came along with us saw Obama - as in, she actually saw his face, waving from the car. Jessi and I, unfortunately, were only able to glimpse the motorcade. However, through holding up her camera and snapping wildly, Jessi was able to get a somewhat grainy picture of the President's hand waving out the window of the car. Thus, there is genuine photographic evidence of our close encounter with the American President! (I mean "close" in the sense that we got closer to him than we did when he was in Ottawa. Our standards aren't that high.)
A fuzzy photograph might have been disappointing to me, if I weren't equally as interested in Ghana as I am in Obama. And Ghana did not disappoint. Let me say from the outset that the security forces on hand (both police and the military) were admirably restrained and very professional. Now that that's been established, let's move on to the "Holy Crap" portion of the story.
We had reserved a room in advance at Oasis, the hip hotel on the beach that we spent all our time at last week. The road on which Obama's motorcade was to pass runs right outside. Sadly, although it was close to the action, Oasis was on the wrong side of the road. All the spectators were being coralled onto elevated ground on the other side of the street. Our side, as it turned out, was being used as a parking lot for various official vehicles of the Secret Service and the Ghanaian military - including, I kid you not, an actual tank. Needless to say, we didn't find out about these arrangements until we were actually in the hotel, and by then we were no longer sure where we could walk outside without being shot. That's an exaggeration: the police never did anything other than point us away from where we wanted to walk. Also, they didn't have guns. The soldiers, on the other hand, were armed to the teeth.
Despairing of getting close to the road, we borrowed the upstairs portion of the hotel and sat by an open window. This looked like it would be a totally serendipitous position, where we could watch the President's arrival in comfort. Alas, we were a tad too conspicuous. Two soldiers wearing helmets and carrying enormous semi-automatic weapons came to secure the hotel and told us very politely that we'd have to go to the street with everybody else. Sigh.
So, contrary to every piece of traveller's advice ever issued by DFAIT, we went outside and joined a large and exuberant public political gathering. In order to get to the spectators' hill, we needed a police escort across the road. The police, again unfailingly polite and patient, were more than happy to help the white folks get into position. (Locals, although they were also treated with comparative good grace, were marginally more likely to be chased with sticks.) In the crowd, there was little chance of a good view, but luckily we managed to secure a large rock that we could stand on. Unfortunately, several other people recognized the genius of this plan, and we spent the next three hours packed like precarious sardines on our small slab of elevated ground.
Finally, helicopters flew by overhead (to enormous cheers), announcing the arrival of the President. Minutes later, the motorcade roared down the street and parked not far from the spectators' area. According to reports and assumptions, Obama got out and greeted the local chiefs, before getting back in and continuing on to the castle. We couldn't actually see him at this point. Jessi was wildly snapping photos; I was leaning dementedly off the rock on one foot, holding myself up primarily with the muscles of my neck, trying to see anything other than hordes of adrenilated Africans. I managed to hold this position for upwards of fifteen minutes. I can assure you, I felt the consequences in the morning.
The real fun started once Obama moved on to the castle. Portions of the crowd decided they'd had enough for the day, and blithely pushed past the fence the police were using to corral them. Out come the nightsticks! Suddenly our little concrete island is surrounded by a miniature stampede, as the youthful male segment of the population wisely gave way before a pair of cops in riot gear. We began to feel like Simba on the rock in the middle of the wildebeest stampede. One agitator told the lead officer to go to hell, with the result that two of the riot police chased after him into the crowd, knocking him down and giving him, shall we say, a stern talking to. Luckily, the police were very heavily outnumbered and also were not brutish Hobbesian animals; the situation was quickly defused by calmer bystanders, and no actual violence resulted. Muddy clothes and my sanity were the only casualties.
However, the reason the police got cranky was that, according to them, nobody was supposed to leave the spectators' area until after Obama had left the city. (I can't say I blame them - urban Ghana is almost impossible to secure.) This meant that we were all confined to our little hill in the hot noon sun, sans bathrooms, with only the food and water being sold from people's heads to keep us sated. Eventually, the police thought the better of it and let the city's natural porousness take over. Most people stayed on the hill anyway, hoping to see Obama on the way out.
And see him we did! He took a moment, God bless him, to lean out the window and wave to us all as he left the city. This was when our friend actually saw his face. It was an incredibly joyful moment. Our hearts were lifted, the blind could see and the lame could walk. Nobody got shot or mutilated, and Ghana lived happily ever after. The End.
Anyway, seeing as we really like Cape Coast, and also really like Obama, Jessi and I decided to head down that way and see if we could catch a glimpse of the man - or, at the very least, partake of Ghana's excitement over his arrival. For those not in the knew: Obama chose to make his first state visit to sub-Saharan Africa to Ghana, rather than the more obvious choices of Kenya (his father's country) and Nigeria (the most populous and also most self-important African nation). The reason for this choice? Ghana's success at creating and maintaining a stable democracy. And if you're feeling cynical about that, I can confirm that yes, the average Ghanaian does indeed have at least as thorough and levelheaded understanding of democracy as the average Canadian. It's more than just hype, folks!
Needless to say, both Kenya and Nigeria were royally shamed by the snub. (Nigeria a little more so - see above comments re: self-important). Ghana, by contrast, was thrilled. The streets were suddenly filled with vendors selling random Obama paraphernalia. The most striking was probably the wax print cloth bearing a repeated pattern of Obama's face on a Democrat-blue background. I have been joking for days that I want to buy several yards of this cloth and make sleepwear out of them, a.k.a. Obama pyjamas. (I've spent all weekend singing Paul Simon's "Me & Julio Down by the Schoolyard", with "Obama pyjama" substituted into the first line.)
Somewhat more disconcerting is the amount of swag that has not been manufactured for the purpose of promoting the Obama visit, but instead has capitalized on it by randomly attaching the name "Barack Obama" to it, like a brand name. We saw a kid in the station wearing a denim ensemble with the Obama label embroidered glaringly over wherever the embroidery for the actual brand name used to be. Jessi bought me an irresistable pair of flower-printed underwear with "Barack Obama" silk-screened over the ass. It's like witnessing the birth of the next generation of kitsch. Really moving stuff!
Meanwhile, on Friday we lobbed ourselves haphazardly into a tro=tro and took off for Cape Coast. It's minimum five-hour journey, done in three stages - first the three hours to Accra, then through Accra (which is usually congested enough to merit its own stage), and then two hours further west to Cape Coast. We did it on Friday, and then again on Sunday in the opposite direction, so we're understandably tired. However, the results were worth it. WE SAW OBAMA!
Allow me to qualify that. Our Ghanaian friend who came along with us saw Obama - as in, she actually saw his face, waving from the car. Jessi and I, unfortunately, were only able to glimpse the motorcade. However, through holding up her camera and snapping wildly, Jessi was able to get a somewhat grainy picture of the President's hand waving out the window of the car. Thus, there is genuine photographic evidence of our close encounter with the American President! (I mean "close" in the sense that we got closer to him than we did when he was in Ottawa. Our standards aren't that high.)
A fuzzy photograph might have been disappointing to me, if I weren't equally as interested in Ghana as I am in Obama. And Ghana did not disappoint. Let me say from the outset that the security forces on hand (both police and the military) were admirably restrained and very professional. Now that that's been established, let's move on to the "Holy Crap" portion of the story.
We had reserved a room in advance at Oasis, the hip hotel on the beach that we spent all our time at last week. The road on which Obama's motorcade was to pass runs right outside. Sadly, although it was close to the action, Oasis was on the wrong side of the road. All the spectators were being coralled onto elevated ground on the other side of the street. Our side, as it turned out, was being used as a parking lot for various official vehicles of the Secret Service and the Ghanaian military - including, I kid you not, an actual tank. Needless to say, we didn't find out about these arrangements until we were actually in the hotel, and by then we were no longer sure where we could walk outside without being shot. That's an exaggeration: the police never did anything other than point us away from where we wanted to walk. Also, they didn't have guns. The soldiers, on the other hand, were armed to the teeth.
Despairing of getting close to the road, we borrowed the upstairs portion of the hotel and sat by an open window. This looked like it would be a totally serendipitous position, where we could watch the President's arrival in comfort. Alas, we were a tad too conspicuous. Two soldiers wearing helmets and carrying enormous semi-automatic weapons came to secure the hotel and told us very politely that we'd have to go to the street with everybody else. Sigh.
So, contrary to every piece of traveller's advice ever issued by DFAIT, we went outside and joined a large and exuberant public political gathering. In order to get to the spectators' hill, we needed a police escort across the road. The police, again unfailingly polite and patient, were more than happy to help the white folks get into position. (Locals, although they were also treated with comparative good grace, were marginally more likely to be chased with sticks.) In the crowd, there was little chance of a good view, but luckily we managed to secure a large rock that we could stand on. Unfortunately, several other people recognized the genius of this plan, and we spent the next three hours packed like precarious sardines on our small slab of elevated ground.
Finally, helicopters flew by overhead (to enormous cheers), announcing the arrival of the President. Minutes later, the motorcade roared down the street and parked not far from the spectators' area. According to reports and assumptions, Obama got out and greeted the local chiefs, before getting back in and continuing on to the castle. We couldn't actually see him at this point. Jessi was wildly snapping photos; I was leaning dementedly off the rock on one foot, holding myself up primarily with the muscles of my neck, trying to see anything other than hordes of adrenilated Africans. I managed to hold this position for upwards of fifteen minutes. I can assure you, I felt the consequences in the morning.
The real fun started once Obama moved on to the castle. Portions of the crowd decided they'd had enough for the day, and blithely pushed past the fence the police were using to corral them. Out come the nightsticks! Suddenly our little concrete island is surrounded by a miniature stampede, as the youthful male segment of the population wisely gave way before a pair of cops in riot gear. We began to feel like Simba on the rock in the middle of the wildebeest stampede. One agitator told the lead officer to go to hell, with the result that two of the riot police chased after him into the crowd, knocking him down and giving him, shall we say, a stern talking to. Luckily, the police were very heavily outnumbered and also were not brutish Hobbesian animals; the situation was quickly defused by calmer bystanders, and no actual violence resulted. Muddy clothes and my sanity were the only casualties.
However, the reason the police got cranky was that, according to them, nobody was supposed to leave the spectators' area until after Obama had left the city. (I can't say I blame them - urban Ghana is almost impossible to secure.) This meant that we were all confined to our little hill in the hot noon sun, sans bathrooms, with only the food and water being sold from people's heads to keep us sated. Eventually, the police thought the better of it and let the city's natural porousness take over. Most people stayed on the hill anyway, hoping to see Obama on the way out.
And see him we did! He took a moment, God bless him, to lean out the window and wave to us all as he left the city. This was when our friend actually saw his face. It was an incredibly joyful moment. Our hearts were lifted, the blind could see and the lame could walk. Nobody got shot or mutilated, and Ghana lived happily ever after. The End.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
The Littel Roach that Could
Now that I've regaled you all with tales from our travels (for more of these, see Jessi's blog at thespottedjessicat.blogspot.com), I'll move on to a practical update on the library.
The carpenters have been hard at work these last few weeks, taking time out of their farming schedule to do communal labour in exchange for meals. As a result, our finished ceiling now covers several chairs, tables and shelves. Thanks to a local mason/steelbender duo, the existing windows have been replaced by something with iron rods (considerably more secure against robbery). And, thanks to an electrician from the next village over, we now have wiring.
The only hiccup so far is that the library draws its electricity from the nearby school, and since the school is itself having trouble keeping up with the bills, essentially there's no power until we can get a separate meter. Even then, we need to figure out a sustainable system for paying the monthly bill. It seems likely that a levy will be instituted on students, but Jessi and I are hard at work trying to find solutions that will minimize the impact on the students. Jessi suggested we ask the local religious institutions (roughly ten churches and a mosque in this tiny village!) to give some of their collection money every month on a rotating basis. Our chairman feels this is a bit of a stretch, since the churches can barely pay their own electricity bill, but we believe it's worth a shot. Wish us luck!
After our most recent trip to Accra/Cape Coast, we now have about twenty new books for the library, as well as a fully-functional Dell laptop loaded with educational software based on the Ghana public school curriculum. (Shout out to the talented young gentlemen at PC Direct in Osu, who would very much like to be better friends with us than they ever will be, but who still came through in a pinch with their technical know-how and superior customer service.)
The members of our organization, the Nyive Development Association, are now excitedly planning a commissioning ceremony for the library. We will be inviting numerous officials and dignitaries to the event, which should be a true blowout as only Nyive can concoct. (No doubt I will end up in the news again, marking my fourth media appearance during five months in Ghana - considerably more press than I get in Canada!) The tentative date is the end of the month, before the students head out on their vacation.
That means we only have three weeks left! I think we're going to make it work. Pictures and video of the last few weeks, as well as coverage of the big event, will be appearing on this blog, so stay tuned.
Now...off to Cape Coast again, this time for Obama-spotting!
The carpenters have been hard at work these last few weeks, taking time out of their farming schedule to do communal labour in exchange for meals. As a result, our finished ceiling now covers several chairs, tables and shelves. Thanks to a local mason/steelbender duo, the existing windows have been replaced by something with iron rods (considerably more secure against robbery). And, thanks to an electrician from the next village over, we now have wiring.
The only hiccup so far is that the library draws its electricity from the nearby school, and since the school is itself having trouble keeping up with the bills, essentially there's no power until we can get a separate meter. Even then, we need to figure out a sustainable system for paying the monthly bill. It seems likely that a levy will be instituted on students, but Jessi and I are hard at work trying to find solutions that will minimize the impact on the students. Jessi suggested we ask the local religious institutions (roughly ten churches and a mosque in this tiny village!) to give some of their collection money every month on a rotating basis. Our chairman feels this is a bit of a stretch, since the churches can barely pay their own electricity bill, but we believe it's worth a shot. Wish us luck!
After our most recent trip to Accra/Cape Coast, we now have about twenty new books for the library, as well as a fully-functional Dell laptop loaded with educational software based on the Ghana public school curriculum. (Shout out to the talented young gentlemen at PC Direct in Osu, who would very much like to be better friends with us than they ever will be, but who still came through in a pinch with their technical know-how and superior customer service.)
The members of our organization, the Nyive Development Association, are now excitedly planning a commissioning ceremony for the library. We will be inviting numerous officials and dignitaries to the event, which should be a true blowout as only Nyive can concoct. (No doubt I will end up in the news again, marking my fourth media appearance during five months in Ghana - considerably more press than I get in Canada!) The tentative date is the end of the month, before the students head out on their vacation.
That means we only have three weeks left! I think we're going to make it work. Pictures and video of the last few weeks, as well as coverage of the big event, will be appearing on this blog, so stay tuned.
Now...off to Cape Coast again, this time for Obama-spotting!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Slumroach Millionaire
Wow, ladies and germs. Sorry for the prolonged silence. The network here in Ho (provided by VODAFONE, curse their name) has been a total mess for the last week and a half. We had some vital IT activities to take care of, so we made a quick trip into Accra in search (yet again) of a hotel with wireless. Unfortunately, I was so busy trying to register for my courses, I didn't get a chance to blog. Sigh.
Since the last note, we've been to Cape Coast for a short holiday. There are a lot of attractions to Cape Coast, but the biggest draw was its bookshop, Black Star Books, which from the looks of things thrives on the patronage of local university students. We picked up an excellent selection of classic literature for all ages to put in the library, including the complete works of William Shakespeare for around $30. (Gotta love that foreign currency market, provided you aren't actually an African.)
Aside from books, Cape Coast has many other positive points. For one thing, it's on the coast. This meant not only beautiful ocean views, but lovely cool ocean breezes. We spent three nights at a guesthouse that had no mosquito netting (we were absolutely eaten alive; ocean breezes also mean ocean-loving mosquitoes), but while we were awake, we spent most of our time at the local hotspot - Oasis Beach Resort. It's a restaurant and bar on the beach that recently expanded into a hotel, and is now the go-to spot for any foreigner in town, as well as any local who wants to meet them. After so long in the village, it was strange to spend so much time hanging out with expats, NGO workers, upper middle-class Ghanaians, university students, and the bevy of stoned rastafarian Burkinabe griots that wander around the tourist sites making friends and selling handicrafts.
The major site in the city itself is Cape Coast Castle, which for centuries was the seat of British power in the region. It is a striking whitewashed fort, extremely European but with a very tropical-coastal feel to the architecture - probably Portuguese influence (or it may have been built by the Portuguese and taken by the British, I'm not sure). It stands on an ocean escarpment, right above the water and right beside Cape Coast's most chaotic stretch of working beach, where the fishermen are continually untangling their nets and hauling in their catch out of their boats. But in order to get to the beach from the castle, you have to pass through a door - one with special significance. It's called the Door of No Return.
This is because, in addition to being a nice piece of architecture and a formidable military installment, Cape Coast Castle served for years as a giant depot for the trade in human beings. Our tour of the site took us into the most appalling, dark, squalid dungeons, where hundreds of Africans were regularly crammed into small rooms and made to live without daylight, sanitation, food, dignity, or hope. This was a life where women who were removed from the dungeons to be sexually abused by colonial governors were the lucky ones. Literally thousands of people passed through the Door of No Return to board ships to Brazil and the Caribbean. Most of them died on the way; many more died within a few years of arriving, crushed by the harsh conditions of slavery in the New World.
At one point, we stood in a place called the Room of the Condemned. There are three small chambers underneath the castle where insurrectionists would be locked and left to die of starvation and suffocation. The tour guide led us in, and then closed the door. We were wrapped in total darkness. Suddenly, I was seized by the terrible reality of it all. Every horror story from my history books leaped into life in front of me. People died in the room where I was standing. On a regular basis. And in this land where ancestor worship forms a major part of spiritual belief, I was forced to face the fact that my ancestors were the monsters responsible for this. And what's more, it isn't over. People are still standing in that room, all over the world.
Afterwards, I stood for a long time on a balcony overlooking the courtyard, weeping. I wasn't expecting it to be that moving, that troubling. But then, through my tears, I looked across at the Door of No Return, and saw a group of Ghanaian school children, laughing and chattering and running in their bright blue uniforms as their teacher led them on their class trip through the Castle. They were walking back in the door, from the beach, and so were fishermen with tangled nets, and masons who were repairing the outside walls, and small boys still wet from playing in the ocean. All of them walking back through the door. Returning.
Since the last note, we've been to Cape Coast for a short holiday. There are a lot of attractions to Cape Coast, but the biggest draw was its bookshop, Black Star Books, which from the looks of things thrives on the patronage of local university students. We picked up an excellent selection of classic literature for all ages to put in the library, including the complete works of William Shakespeare for around $30. (Gotta love that foreign currency market, provided you aren't actually an African.)
Aside from books, Cape Coast has many other positive points. For one thing, it's on the coast. This meant not only beautiful ocean views, but lovely cool ocean breezes. We spent three nights at a guesthouse that had no mosquito netting (we were absolutely eaten alive; ocean breezes also mean ocean-loving mosquitoes), but while we were awake, we spent most of our time at the local hotspot - Oasis Beach Resort. It's a restaurant and bar on the beach that recently expanded into a hotel, and is now the go-to spot for any foreigner in town, as well as any local who wants to meet them. After so long in the village, it was strange to spend so much time hanging out with expats, NGO workers, upper middle-class Ghanaians, university students, and the bevy of stoned rastafarian Burkinabe griots that wander around the tourist sites making friends and selling handicrafts.
The major site in the city itself is Cape Coast Castle, which for centuries was the seat of British power in the region. It is a striking whitewashed fort, extremely European but with a very tropical-coastal feel to the architecture - probably Portuguese influence (or it may have been built by the Portuguese and taken by the British, I'm not sure). It stands on an ocean escarpment, right above the water and right beside Cape Coast's most chaotic stretch of working beach, where the fishermen are continually untangling their nets and hauling in their catch out of their boats. But in order to get to the beach from the castle, you have to pass through a door - one with special significance. It's called the Door of No Return.
This is because, in addition to being a nice piece of architecture and a formidable military installment, Cape Coast Castle served for years as a giant depot for the trade in human beings. Our tour of the site took us into the most appalling, dark, squalid dungeons, where hundreds of Africans were regularly crammed into small rooms and made to live without daylight, sanitation, food, dignity, or hope. This was a life where women who were removed from the dungeons to be sexually abused by colonial governors were the lucky ones. Literally thousands of people passed through the Door of No Return to board ships to Brazil and the Caribbean. Most of them died on the way; many more died within a few years of arriving, crushed by the harsh conditions of slavery in the New World.
At one point, we stood in a place called the Room of the Condemned. There are three small chambers underneath the castle where insurrectionists would be locked and left to die of starvation and suffocation. The tour guide led us in, and then closed the door. We were wrapped in total darkness. Suddenly, I was seized by the terrible reality of it all. Every horror story from my history books leaped into life in front of me. People died in the room where I was standing. On a regular basis. And in this land where ancestor worship forms a major part of spiritual belief, I was forced to face the fact that my ancestors were the monsters responsible for this. And what's more, it isn't over. People are still standing in that room, all over the world.
Afterwards, I stood for a long time on a balcony overlooking the courtyard, weeping. I wasn't expecting it to be that moving, that troubling. But then, through my tears, I looked across at the Door of No Return, and saw a group of Ghanaian school children, laughing and chattering and running in their bright blue uniforms as their teacher led them on their class trip through the Castle. They were walking back in the door, from the beach, and so were fishermen with tangled nets, and masons who were repairing the outside walls, and small boys still wet from playing in the ocean. All of them walking back through the door. Returning.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Terminator: Roachination
A molasses-like internet connection has prevented me from updating before now. Operation Accra was a success on all fronts! Not only did I get so see the game (which, as I'm sure you all know, the Penguins won in glorious style), but we were able to purchase some additional books for the library. Although our attempt to buy some adult-level history and politics books at the University of Ghana bookshop was foiled, we found a place downtown that sold an excellent selection of children's books. We stocked up, filled a new suitcase with African literature, sampled some of the finest fast food Accra had to offer, and jumped on a tro-tro back to Nyive - for my part, feeling less homesick and more patriotically Nova Scotian than ever before. Cole Harbour represent! (Just to note for clarity's sake: my hockey-induced flights of fancy are financed by my own travel budget, not the money that was donated for the library.)
About the library: the carpenters have put their heads together and agreed to spend this Thursday and Friday building the shelving and furniture. We are currently negotiating with an electrician, who feels it will take him and his team five days to do the necessary wiring. Fingers crossed, we may be looking at an end to construction by early July, well before I expected. So far we're on budget, and there should be some money left over after the renovations to supply more books, even possibly another computer. Once again, thank you all for contributing to this project. It's really animating the village and the volunteers here who've worked so hard these past years to make it happen.
Now, for another taste of life in Nyive. As I may have mentioned, the village is full of more-or-less stray goats, which, in addition to the free range chickens, make up about 80% of the traffic on all the footpaths. A particular family of goats (possibly the possessions of our host) have taken to hanging around our house - specifically the front porch. There's a fat black nanny goat - presumably the mother - and two kids, one black and one tan. The kids are virtually inseperable, and like to take shelter from the rain on our front porch, where they have unlimited access to our dustbin full of cookie wrappers and mango skins. These babies have no shame. We've named them Rebo and Zooty (a reference that will probably go past everyone except our fellow sci-fi geeks). Zooty, in particular, is very sociable and possibly not that bright. Jessi caught him with his head in the dustbin yesterday and managed to trap him and bring him inside. It was captured on video, but unfortunately we'll have to wait for a faster connection to upload it. Possibly the next trip to Accra.
As for the bathroom, I sprayed it again in a moment of weakness, and the result was another roach buffet for the local chicken population. Thus ensuring generations of two-headed roosters.
About the library: the carpenters have put their heads together and agreed to spend this Thursday and Friday building the shelving and furniture. We are currently negotiating with an electrician, who feels it will take him and his team five days to do the necessary wiring. Fingers crossed, we may be looking at an end to construction by early July, well before I expected. So far we're on budget, and there should be some money left over after the renovations to supply more books, even possibly another computer. Once again, thank you all for contributing to this project. It's really animating the village and the volunteers here who've worked so hard these past years to make it happen.
Now, for another taste of life in Nyive. As I may have mentioned, the village is full of more-or-less stray goats, which, in addition to the free range chickens, make up about 80% of the traffic on all the footpaths. A particular family of goats (possibly the possessions of our host) have taken to hanging around our house - specifically the front porch. There's a fat black nanny goat - presumably the mother - and two kids, one black and one tan. The kids are virtually inseperable, and like to take shelter from the rain on our front porch, where they have unlimited access to our dustbin full of cookie wrappers and mango skins. These babies have no shame. We've named them Rebo and Zooty (a reference that will probably go past everyone except our fellow sci-fi geeks). Zooty, in particular, is very sociable and possibly not that bright. Jessi caught him with his head in the dustbin yesterday and managed to trap him and bring him inside. It was captured on video, but unfortunately we'll have to wait for a faster connection to upload it. Possibly the next trip to Accra.
As for the bathroom, I sprayed it again in a moment of weakness, and the result was another roach buffet for the local chicken population. Thus ensuring generations of two-headed roosters.
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