Debbi does Ghana

All my bags are packed and I'm ready to go...

2006-07-03T15:04:00.000Z

Yes, I'm leaving - on the 11pm flight tonight.

I'm very excited. I've really enjoyed my time here but I'm definitely ready to come home. It's been an amazing experience with everything I've done and everybody I've met, but all good things have to come to an end.

I'm looking forward to seeing how much of a culture shock it is back in the UK.
I might post a little something and let you know how it is.

Thanks to all my loyal readers - we'll meet for a beer in Blighty very soon - okay who am I kidding - a bottle or two of Pinot is some swanky London wine bar dahhhling.

The last week

2006-07-03T15:03:00.000Z

It's been tough as I've been ill but we've managed to tie up a few loose ends.

We've finally got the District Director of Education to approve the timetables for the schools to use the computer room - it took six weeks and a lot of shouting but finally we've done it.

We had some more toys sent out by Matt's mum (thanks Mo) which we gave to another little creche which is the TACCO overflow.

But the best thing of all was going to the village where the HIV Orphans live. We took them some toy cars and teddies. Matt and I also took some money to sponsor nine-year-old Samuella for a couple of years. We had a backpack full of pens and toys for her too. She was thrilled. It was such a poor village with the children running around in dirty underwear thrilled to see some white people. It was nice to actually see we were making a difference - sometimes it's hard to feel like that because the task is so massive and you make such a small indent.

We also have the Disabled Training Centre website up and running: www.jachiedisabledcentre.org - so if anyone is visiting Ghana - pop in and say hello. It's a great place.

It's been a tough but rewarding six months but I've done it and that's what is important.

A Jew in Ghana

2006-07-03T15:02:00.000Z

IN THE BEGINNING

Being a Jew in Ghana puts you in an interesting position: well actually it puts you in no position at all because no one here has any clue about Jews or Judaism.

This is despite the fact that practically every Ghanaian I know goes to church at least once a week, reads the Bible, praises God etc. I have to admit I'm not an avid New Testament reader (or Old for that matter) but after having a quick flick through, it definitely mentions Jews and synagogues. We do exist.

This national ignorance was also proved when Matt taught an RE lesson and asked which religion Jesus was when he was born. The baffled faces of the children said it all.

In Ghana religion plays a significant part in everyone's life here: got no food - don't worry, pray and God will provide; got no money - don't worry pray and God will provide; got poor health - don't worry pray and God will provide; want the Black Stars to win the world cup - don't worry pray and God will provide. (oops God obviously had other things on his mind or is a Brazil supporter.)

So, you're beginning to get the picture.

Now with religion comes interest in which religion you are or more specifically which sort of Christianity you believe in.

So, says the latest interegator, which church do you belong to?
I face this question most days but still I linger before I answer.
Should I lie and say Methodist (that's what Matt is and it seems a safe enough answer) or should I say I don't go to church? Or should I tell the truth and actually use the J word.

Those who know me will appreciate the fact I only pause for a small amount of time - of course I'm going to tell them I'm Jewish - anything for a bit of confrontation to make the day pass quicker.

The first thing that happens is that I use a collection of words - Jew, Jewish, Judaism, just to see if I can ring any bells.
Usually not. The blank stare as they clutch their bible remains fixed.
I try and explain that it's all the Old Testament which usually leads to the incredulous comment: 'What? You don't believe in Jesus?'
Then I try explaining that we believe Jesus was a man but not the son of god. (Theologists don't kill me for this explanation - I'm no expert.)

More often than not, I get nowhere. It's an interesting position to be in. Anti-semitism is easy to deal with, being invisible takes on a whole new meaning.

But using my intrepid journalism skills (I Googled) I soon tracked down what claimed to be the only Jewish village in Ghana. And they were just three hours away.
Excellent!

TO THE VILLAGE

So off I went to meet 'my' people. I arrived on Friday night but failed to make contact with David - the only name and number I had. Not deterred, I holed up in a posh hotel with my Theology Major fellow volunteer to wait until morning.
As the sun rose, we jumped in a taxi and asked to be taken to 'New Town' the area of the village that was home to the synagogue and Jewish community. Unsurprisingly, the taxi driver hadn't heard of it. Or Jews, Judaism, synagogue, Jewish church - nothing. We stopped for directions and eventually made our way.

Uttering apologies, we stumbled into the synagogue. It was a pleasingly simple building with a few benches. At the front of the room was a table covered by a cloth with the words 'Shalom' embroidered on in childlike hand and a menorah either side. So far, so Jewish. At the table, sat two men wearing tallis and kippot. A stack of siddurs was on a bench. This was definitely the place!

We sat and waited for the service to begin. There were only a couple of men and five children but they began anyway. At first they sang a song which I didn't recognise. Then they proceeded with the Shabbat service - in English. There was no Hebrew, except for a couple of lines written in phonetics on the English page of the siddur.
Even the Shema which I was eagerly waiting for was in English.

As the service proceeded more and more men, women and children drifted in. Excellent - everyone was late. I felt more at home immediately.
Soon there were about four women, eight men and 12 children. Not exactly packed but considering there are only 13 families in the community - not bad.

The service continued with a bit of bible study. David - who is head of the community - read out passages from the Old Testament and Kofi - his brother - explained them. Well, sort of. As the Theology Major pointed out, he really didn't have a clue what he was saying and didn't really know who Aaron or the Levites (who we were discussing) were.
Hmmm. I sensed a stumbling block.

We were made to stand up and introduce ourselves to the community who looked at us quite blankly. I get the impression they are used to foreign Jews coming to gawp at them.

After the two hour service we were invited back to David and Kofi's house. They reprimanded us for staying at the posh hotel and said we should stay there. Give up our satellite TV (it was the World Cup), electricity, hot and running water, expansive bed and A/C - I think not - I am a Jew after all.
We declined politely and asked if it was possible to take photos. We were quickly told that it was Shabbat so no photography and no writing. Ooops my lax diaspora Jewish ways were coming out already.

We arranged an early morning meeting the next day and scurried off back to our posh hotel to watch the football.

Minutes later a man from the village visited us and presented us with letter.
It was a petition from the Jewish Community asking David and Kofi to step down as leaders because of corruption. They accused them of squirrelling away visitors in their home and taking their money and gifts instead of sharing them with the community (luckily I'd only brought them a packet of biscuits and am pretty sure there was no fighting over those). And apparently they had taken a computer that had been donated by some Americans to teach the children in the community to their own home. Only their children could use it and now it was broken.

I didn't know if any of the accusations were true but there were about 15 signatures.
It was sad as there is so much corruption in the churches here, I hoped the Jews would be different. I took heart from the fact that at least they were holding their leaders to task.

I went back the following morning to take a few pictures but David and Kofi told me the synagogue had been boarded up and the key given to the local police until the conflict had been sorted out.

They seemed quite calm about the situation. They told me about the man who had established the community in 1977. He had asked David to take over as leader from him before he died. They explained how everyone in the region had followed Jewish customs: Keeping the sabbath on Saturday, not eating pig, lighting candles, circumcising their sons. But soon christianity became the easier way to live so the Jewish way of life died out. Only when this man came and established a synagogue with some support of some Americans - who send out books, prayers shawls and other paraphernalia - did a few families follow Judaism again.

I left undecided as to whether these people were Jewish or not - as is the current debate with the community who describe themselves as the lost tribe. Their following of the Old Testament and traditions and customs probably leads me to an affirmative answer. But I felt no real connection with them: Their ways were still Ghanaian first and foremost, so was their food, habits, nature etc. There was no identifying over our favourite bagel filling or how good chopped liver really was.
I felt as much an outsider as I had in any church.

But I was glad I went to visit and for a few hours at least I didn't have to explain my religion to anyone.

Happy Birthday to me!!

2006-06-26T18:15:00.000Z

Friday was my birthday - so thanks to everyone who sent me lots of birthday messages - and those of you who didn't, well I'm sure that means you have a nice big present waiting for me when I get home!

I managed to make big sacrifices on my bday and get to the beach. It was beautiful: fresh pineapple juice, palm trees, an outside loo...well, nothing's perfect. It was great because I managed to drag a few people along so in the end there was about 10 of us - not bad for an impromptu gathering.

Now we're back in Kumasi where I have developed a mystery illness: mainly in the form of an aversion to food and feeling sick. There have been wide speculations (none of them medical) that I have anything ranging from Malaria to worms...excellent I'm a loser on every count. I hope it's not worms because I remember that from when I was small and I had to drink some foul tasting liquid which I threw up in the toilet.

But there is a Ghanaian joke about having worms:
Man 1: 'That dog has worms.'
Man 2: Do dogs get worms too?'

Oh, and the electricity to our house has been cut off - something about not paying a bill. Now down to no running water and no electricity.

Six days and counting.

Accepting lifts from strange men...

2006-06-21T15:32:00.000Z

...yes, your mother is right - it can be a bad idea!

Matt and I went away for the weekend (to a little village which apparently has the only Jews in Ghana living there - more on that later).

Sitting in our hotel bar later, a strange, short, rotound Armenian man appeared. Coincidentally he was also going back to Kumasi and offered us a lift.
It was a Sunday so there were not many tro-tros around and, as I've said many times before, tro-tros really are just mobile coffins.

Matt and I jumped at the offer and then jumped into the back of his truck. The Armeninan slid into his seat next to his driver. And next to a bloody big loaded shotgun.

'Erm, that's a big gun,' Matt said in a small voice.
'Ahh I use zat to shoot in ze bush,' The Armanian said.

We were quiet. What or who did he shoot in the bush? We didn't like to ask. It was almost like being kidnapped by a baddie from a James Bond film - except obviously there was no kidnapping and it wasn't a film.

An hour or so into the journey The Armenian pulled out his flick knife - blade approx 6 inches - and started flicking it open and closed as we bounced along the uneven roads. Lethal weapon number two we calculated from the back seat.

But luckily, apart from complaining his flick knife wasn't flicking fast enough, no harm came to either of us and we were delivered safely to our door.

See how exciting even a simple lift home can be in Ghana?

Football... a dangerous game

2006-06-15T09:18:00.000Z

Monday saw the epic game between Ghana Black Stars and Italy in the World Cup.

Obviously Matt and I went to the bar with the biggest screen (projected onto a wall) wearing as much stupid Ghana paraphernalia as possible.

It wasn't the best result with Ghana losing to Italy by 2 goals. But then someone (not us) deigned to say that Ghana had played badly. This offended the patriotism of some people in the bar and a fight broke out. Punches were flying, glasses were smashed, tables got overturned: it was just like being in England!

It was quite scary too as we weren't really sure what was happening and there was a big stampede for the door.

Then afterwards we were just loitering around outside before going home when I fell down a hole and twisted my ankle. I'd only had one pineapple juice (maybe it was the twist of ginger that did it).

It was quite bad - I thought I'd broken it at first. I did my ususal overreaction trick of going white, practically passing out, nearly being sick etc.
My foot swelled up to the size of an elephant's and turned blue with bruising.
I've been layed up in the house for two days straight with lots of Ghanaians poking and prodding it and occasionally giving it a good wrench - when in Ghana make sure you poke and move any part of the body that could be in pain or injured.

I've bravely hobbled to the internet today - mainly because the boredom and claustrophobia is paining me more than my foot.

However, the whole evening once again confirmed to me why I don't like football.

Three weeks and counting...

2006-06-10T16:32:00.000Z

I'm actually staring my return flight in the face - well nearly.
It's just three weeks left and then I'm out of here.
But there is no sign of anything slowing down:

We had a nutrition report at the creche and 10 out of the 60 children registered were found to be malnourished - two of them very seriously. It's quite heartbreaking. The main signs are stunting (not growing), low weight and wasting. It's hard to know what to do as they only have one meal a day at the creche and eat at home the rest of the time.
We have visited the local hospital and spoken to the Head of Nutrition who actually carried out the report. He has said he will conduct a lesson for all the parents explaining what food to give their children and advise them on portion sizes. Apparently all children under one year have vitamin supplements provided by the Government, but obviously these aren't enough. Unfortunately it's not a matter of buying them lots of food - it's unsustainable - ie: I could feed these kids for the three weeks I have left but then what happens? We're trying to encourage the women at the creche to give them fruit a couple of times a week but money is tight and although they've said they will I'm not sure it will actually happen.

But there has been some movement on the HIV project I've been working on. I met Isaac and Sister Rose, two nurses who work at the local hospital and they introduced us to a 70-year-old woman who is looking after her four grandchildren, whose parents have died of AIDS. TACCO have fundraised sponsorship to help the family out and we were able to give her money to buy health insurance and pay for the kids school uniforms and books and some money towards housekeeping. It was really rewarding. We are going to visit her and the children in their village next week and also meet another possible recipient of sponsorship - a women who is struggling to bring up two children orphaned by AIDS.

Also, we are trying to start funding for an antiretroviral drug treatment programme. Basically the drugs to keep people with HIV alive cost 50,000 cedis (three pounds fifty) a month, but many of them can't afford it. They need this treatment for the rest of their lives, so even if they can scrape together the first few months, it very rarely lasts. It's criminal to think that 40 pounds a year can keep someone alive and I used to spend that on a night out!

So while I'm facing probably the most upsetting/heart wrenching part of my experience, it is in some ways the most rewarding. I'm hoping to keep working on the sponsorship project when I get back to the UK - so if anyone is interested in learning more about it/sponsoring some drug treatment/sponsoring a family (which costs around 50 pounds a year but I would have to check for sure) just get in touch and let me know.

Rattling...like a bottle of pills

2006-05-31T15:38:00.000Z

I've noticed that my last couple of entries have sounded quite negative, so I should probably explain why my rose tinted glasses may have slipped slightly.

For the last week I've been a bit ill with a cold. Unfortunately in Ghana if you are ill for more than 12 hours with anything everyone assumes it's malaria. So after holding out for four whole days, I eventually went to the hospital.
After comforting words from the doctor assuring me I wasn't too sick and it probably wasn't malaria, he has gone on to prescribe me:
Malaria tablets - (I haven't had the blood test yet - it's tomorrow)
Stomach pain tablets - DR: "Any stomach pain?" Me: "No".
General pain killers - Dr: "Any pain anywhere else?" Me: "No".
Imunex - absolutely no friggin' idea what that does.

So in summary, he has no idea what's wrong with me but wants me to take 17 tablets today and then 14 a day for the next week...

I think I might just take my chances on the fact I have a cold.

Revolution at Jachie

2006-05-31T15:34:00.000Z

One might be tempted to believe that as a volunteer in Ghana your efforts to help improve society, education and give hope and opportunity to the next generation, would be welcomed with open arms. But you would be wrong.

The situation in Jachie is currently thus: There is a fully stocked computer room with approximately 30 computers. Also, provided by the truly wonderful NGO, TACCO, are two computer teachers/experts, software especially designed for the education of children and all bills such as electricity are fully paid.

Now all the schools have to do is accept TACCO's invitation to use the computer room free of charge - which they all have. All good so far you may think.
Enter the District Director of Education AKA The witch: She has decided that the computer room is a disruptive influence on the children's timetable and all computer lessons must therefore be stopped until she decides they are no longer disruptive.

This is laughable. Just small knowledge of the Ghana education system will tell you that rarely do teachers turn up on time for lessons, if at all. Children will have their lessons cancelled on a whim so they can weed the school grounds instead and often they have timetabled lessons, such as music and dance, but with no teacher to teach it. Yes, she may have a point; the lessons will be disrupting the usual school timetable but in a POSITIVE way.

Anyway, we are glad to report that one of the schools is openly defying the District Witch and are insisting on attending computer lessons anyway!
1 - TACCO
0 - The Witch

Lies, lies, damned lies

2006-05-30T09:18:00.000Z

Ghana's a funny place to be if you're a white person. For a start they never tire of pointing out to you that you have white skin - adults and children alike. Also, they never deem it to be rude to holler from across the street - 'white man'.
But along with white skin goes white money and this is also not ignored.
Not only do we get charged white man prices for things, we often get: 'White man give me some money. White man, I am hungry - give me some money to buy food.'

These requests come whether we are walking down a street or sitting down eating our dinner or having a drink. Often when the asker has more time they will elaborate on their hardship to squeeze us for more money. Often these are able bodied, intelligent, youthful individuals who are perfectly capable of working.

I know I'm sounding quite heartless about this but I will try to explain why (although in my own defence I do give money to people on the street who are disabled as they are generally shunned by their own society).

EVERYBODY asks us for money - when I taught in the school, my school children would; where we lived in Bawdie, the staff of the guesthouse would tell us how hungry they were and how they had no money; random people in the street shout out to us everyday. People pretend to be our friends, just to get anything they can get from us.
It's hard to know who you can trust. Luckily the family we stay with now would never dream of asking us for anything and we have made a few friends we can trust. But just to explain the depths people will sink to, read on:

We work in the computer room on our project. Every day, a 20-year-old called Georgina comes and learns computers. We speak to her, sometimes we share our lunch with her, have bought her a drink at a spot etc.

Then one Monday she told me she was feeling terrible as her Grandmother had died that weekend. She was upset (obviously) but also because her mother was dead and her grandmother supported her. Now she didn't know what she was going to do for money, for food, for a place to live - and she had the funeral to organise. The tears glistened in her eyes as she pleaded for money and food - she was so hungry she told me.
I felt awful - but Matt and I have this rule to help us through the constant requests for money - we can only help organisations not individuals - because there are too many individuals out there.
But this was different surely. We shared our lunch with her and later I spoke to Matt asking him if we should make an exception in Georgina's case as she was so upset and to lose a family member is distressing.

But, call us cynical, both of us weren't sure if the story was true, so we asked Bernard - the man in charge of the computer centre. He said he hadn't heard but he would investigate.
The next day we learned - it was all a LIE! She had made it up just to see how much money she could get out of us! Her grandmother hadn't died - she was just trying to make a withdrawal out of the walking ATM machines that we are seen as here!

cute kids!

2006-05-24T19:19:00.000Z

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picture perfect

2006-05-24T15:25:00.000Z

ewwww...

2006-05-24T12:04:00.000Z

I've got something weird and pussy on my arm - been given antibiotics but they blatantly don't have a clue what it is. They just stare at it blankly and diagnose change of environment (I've been here five months) or malaria!

Christmas come early

2006-05-22T17:19:00.000Z

After days of painting, Matt and I finally finished our masterpiece that will hereby be known as the TACCO Toy Box. It's bright red with the Ghana flag on top and has a big smiley sun wearing sun glasses.

We filled it up with toys and took it over to the creche. The children were extremely excited but mainly used the toy box as a drum.

In the afternoon, after their lunch, we broke open the toys. They were a bit bemused at first but soon trucks were being rammed into other children's legs, arms were pulled off dolls and they were indulging in all the normal things that three year olds do when presented with anything.

In a huge display of self-sacrifice, we gave up our weekend and headed to Lake Bosomtwe to put up some publicity posters for the disabled training centre. It's beautiful and we had a relaxing weekend surrounded by mountainous greenery and a shimmering lake. Let's not mention the posh hotel on the waterfront with air conditioning, satellite TV and hot running water. Well, it was only 12 pounds a night so it would have been rude not to really!

The Case of the missing pants continued...

2006-05-22T16:27:00.000Z

Well, after a few days of lamenting why 'thief' had nicked off (Geddit knickers/nicked...) with my lovely pink and red stripey pants and not the greying white ones - they're back!

There was such outrage in our house from our hosts - both in Ghana and on the otherside of the world - that the poor girl who'd taken them snuck them back into the washing pile.

I'm pleased to have them back - mainly cos it's less washing for me to do. The poor girl though - she'll definitely be too afraid to take anything ever again after such a hoo-hah over a few pairs of knickers.

Tour Photos

2006-05-22T16:02:00.001Z

Here are various poses with me and my friends, eating roots and knocking over trees.
Oh and some elephant managed to climb a mountain too....

Not so cute now...

2006-05-16T16:33:00.000Z

So the cute little kids with the gappy smiles and big brown eyes - they wee. More precisely - all over me! It was horrible, innocently I went to pick up cute crying children in need of comfort and they repaid me with wet bottoms and wet knickers - three of them in one day. There's no loyalty in people under one foot!

We bought them some mats to lie on instead of the dirty floor and they were quite pleased with that. We're also painting their toy box this week so hopefully we can give them lots of toys to play with and maybe distract them from weeing all over themselves and me!

On the upside we had running water for the first time in 2 weeks (you think the hosepipe ban is bad over there - they just switch our water off for weeks on end here). However, our excitement soon ended when the taps ran dry after just half an hour. Although it was enough time to brush our teeth and wash our hands under running water instead of using the usual bucket technique.

And to add insult to injury - it hasn't stopped raining for 24 hours here and the sky is grey - England style.

A THIEF IN OUR MIDST

The latest and only scandal in my life at the moment is the Case of the Missing Pants. Three pairs went missing off the washing line, just hours after I'd given them a good scrub. Suspicion lies with the high profile 15-year-old kleptomaniac who lives in the house. But really my knickers - why? And one pair was my fave pink and red stripey ones! It's quite unfair as I fitted all my possessions for six months into a rucksack - it's not like I have spare pants - I'm on a tight 14 day washing schedule, which has now been cruelly reduced to 11 days.
Now I'm too scared to do anymore washing incase it all goes missing and I have to walk around naked.

Home sweet home

2006-05-09T15:44:00.000Z

We've moved into our new house in Atonsu Agogo (near Kumasi). It's a crazy house and as far as we can tell is home to nine adults and five kids - all of whom have loads of energy. Half of them (the older ones - Affiah and Richmond) love us and won't leave us alone, demanding to be picked up, thrown around and generally amused. But the other ones (who are all under 2) cry every time we enter the room. Gradually we're winning them round but the amount of tears in just the few days we've been there is too much for anyone!
However, a pleasant change from our last village is that we are just minutes from the internet and have good phone reception. Although running water is non-existent, we do have plenty of buckets for washing. I do have an increasingly strong feeling that I permanently smell, but that I'm so used to it I can't tell anymore.

GOD BOTHERING
At the request of our new host, Auntie Aba, we went to church on Sunday. I'm quite proud of the fact I've avoided doing this since I arrived as Ghana is such a zealously religious country.
And now I know why this will be my first and last time.
It started at 9am with 'bible study'. I pride myself on knowing two things about Christianity and those are Easter Eggs and Christmas trees, so when confronted with 1 Corinthians Verse 12 - I had no idea what to do. I didn't even know where to find it in the New Testament. I was petrified they would ask me some questions about the holy spirit or something.
Matt's words of comfort consisted of: Don't worry you're with a theology student!
Great. I sat there while he went off into deep theological analysis of the gifts of the spirit.
I remained mute for the whole hour (I know - impressive) and then we went into the church service. This consisted of lots of prayers, songs, a poem - about how much the girl loved god, donations, a play -about how we should sacrifice for God, more donations, the sermon - again about sacrifice and then more donations. But what was so fantastically outrageous about the last donation is that the Reverend stood there and asked for exact amounts of money that were actually quite large for a poor congregation. These people then publicly came up and gave the amount and were blessed by him. Then he announced a lower amount which some more people came up to give, then another smaller amount and so on. But as the amounts got lower, he stopped blessing them and got his lower preachers to do it. It was awful. Luckily Matt and I hadn't brought that much money and we were desperately saving what we had for our taxi ride home - FOUR hours later.

THE NEW PROJECT
We have to get a taxi in the morning to our new project which is in a village 15 minutes drive away. I'm quite pleased about that because getting a tro-tro twice a day would so dramatically increase my chances of not coming back alive that I would have suggested you started to plan my funeral now - but don't worry, I'm now in chauffeur driven comfort!

We visited the creche which is full of unbelievably cute children. I thought I'd hate them all but they look at me with such big brown eyes and cute faces, I just can't. They're really funny but quite naughty. At the moment they're just in one big room and they have no toys to play with. Once their 'lessons' are finished (just counting to 10, lots of songs like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and a few Ghanaian ones that I shall amuse you all with in the pub one night) they have nothing to do. They ran absolutely riot with me and Matt there - I had no less than five children hanging off me at any one time. After failed games of 'jump up and down' and 'stand on one leg' I decided to roar at them and scare them. This seemed to work a treat and they ran around while I chased them (with five kids still attached to the back of my dress).
We're getting the local carpenter to build them a toy box and we've organised some toys to be sent out from England - thanks Matt's mum! But until then, those kids are just going to run wild.
After about an hour, we had to escape to the computer room where we are trying to work out a timetable with the local schools for the children to come and attend lessons.
We also visited a local disabled training centre where they make traditional cloth and crafts. They have loads of workshops there and a gift shop but no one is really visiting it. Matt and I promised to help them with some posters and a website to try and encourage wealthy white tourists to stop by and lighten their wallets.

Tour...

2006-05-02T09:30:00.000Z

It was a drama of elephants, baboon fights, waterfalls and near death experiences. If you want to know more read on - if you require something slightly less surreal I do believe Lost has started again on C4.

It should have been 14 days of hedonistic fun but our tour consisted of outrageously early starts (we're talking around 3.30/4am here!) and the most uncomfortable, long, dangerous bus rides ever.
We left Kumasi for Tamale (that's in the Northern region -check a map!) It was a seven hour bus ride but luckily we'd splashed out and left the battered tro-tro's behind in exchange for a relatively luxurious bus, which played very bad Nigerian films all the way.
Watching the landscape change from lush greenery to flat dry lands was very interesting. The abundant church buildings were replaced with mosques as we entered the Islamic north (basically the missionaries couldn't be bothered to go that far.) Houses were merely round clay huts with thatched roofs - making the cement brick and tin roof houses of the south seem like relative luxury.

TAMALE
Ironically, considering it's Ghana's third largest city, there's not much to do in Tamale except get ripped off by the helpful guides - one 15 year old showed us round, gave us advice, then hit on us for money for school books - we found out later that he'd quit school last year because fleecing tourists for money was much more profitable. I don't feel too bad because as I handed over the money (only a few pounds) I gave him the full force Marco lecture on how he shouldn't waste his life and even if he was tricking us. I informed him he wasn't going to be a cute school boy for too many more years...

Fresh from our seven hour trip we got up at 3.30 to head to bus station for our next bus. It was quite interesting to walk through the streets while it was still dark, stepping over the sleeping bodies and seeing people preparing for their day.
At the bus station there was a disorganised scrum for tickets. We got numbers 60-65. Considering there were only 48 seats on the dilapidated bus, this was going to be interesting. And it was. Firstly they filled the seats - 2 on each side of the aisle. Then they put down a flip down seat and rammed 2 onto that seat. Moving/breathing was impossible. I decided I was going to get DVT but then after reading in the guide book that we were about to go on some of the worst roads in Ghana, I settled on straight death.
After lots of loud complaining from the Ghanaians that they had packed us on like animals, we set off. After 30 minutes of tarmac road we hit the rough stuff. Red, bumpy roads that almost threw us off our seats (if we hadn't been wedged in so tightly) as it hurtled along.
Three hours and a taxi drive later we arrived at our destination: Mole National Park.

MOLE/LARABANGA
Although, in the middle of nowhere, this place is a dream.
On getting there (alive) Matt and I decided to celebrate by getting the most expensive room in the place which overlooked the watering hole where elephants came to drink and bathe. (Make your own conclusions about that one people!)
It was worth every penny as baboons and warthogs wandered past our balcony to a backdrop of gorgeous forest and elephants spraying themselves with water and mud.
Also, the swimming pool just metres away added to the luxury of it all.
We went on a walking safari where we stood just metres away from the elephants - they're even bigger than you expect them to be. There were antelopes galloping around and bird and butterflies of all descriptions. We even saw some antelope bones that had been ravaged by a lion but unfortunately/fortunately there was no sign of it.
But the baboons proved to be a bigger problem.

LUCIE Vs BABOON
Relaxing by the pool, Charlotte ordered some toast but then disappeared the room. The toast sat on the table untouched but was soon sniffed out by a huge and hungry baboon.
He galloped over on all fours. I promptly legged it to a safe distance but Lucie stood her ground and tried to shoo him away with a pair of trousers. He backed down for a moment but then stared at her with his beady eyes and unmoving, mask-like face. She hesitated, so he took the chance, grabbed the toast and ran. It was very scary as they are so strong and, well, hairy really.
One tried to get in our room later that day - it actually opened the doors. Matt very bravely hid inside the room while we all cowered behind Lucie - now known as Dave Baboon for her ability to fight the hairy apes.

BIKES BUT NO BRAKES
We hired some bikes to cycle to Larabanga - a local village which is home to one of the oldest mosques in sub-saharan Africa. Although, that was exciting in itself, the most exciting thing for me was finding out exactly what was wrong with everyone's bikes. Matt had no brakes - yup - he fell off but only once. My bike had dodgy steering - it was kind of like those BMX's they stunt up at seasides so when you turn the handlebars right the wheel moves left. But we made it. The mosque itself is pretty amazing - legend has it that a holy man threw a sword and it landed on the site of the mosque. When they started digging they discovered the foundations were already there - Hmmmm.

ON THE ROAD
Up and on a bus by 4am - we got back to Tamale at 8am and decided to push on to the Volta region. It was a 14 hour trip so we needed to break it at Bimbilla - a small village en route.
We sat on the Bimbilla bus and waited for it to fill up. And waited. And waited. Two hours passed, then three, then four. It was nearly five hours of waiting when we finally moved. By which point we'd gone through the various stages of madness, seen a woman get run over - I could see the tyre of the bus that was on her leg as she screamed in pain - it was horrible.
It's amazing how much happens around you when you are sat in one place for hours. We got talking to a man on our bus - whose dad only happened to be the Chief of Bimbilla - the village where we were headed. Fantastic! His name was Jacob and he was very funny. Eventually, our bus set off. We bounced and rattled along terrible rocky, untarmaced roads, just grateful to be moving after hours of stasis.
And then...the bloody bus broke down in the middle of nowhere.

We piled off, covered in our usual armour of red dust and sat despondently at the road side while the driver and his mate tinkered under the rust bucket that was our bus. Somehow, they managed to get it going again. We arrived at our destination around 7pm - making a neat 15 hours since we'd left that morning.

BIMBILLA
It is a great little village - everyone was very friendly, just shouting hello and not asking us for money, which does make quite a nice change. It helped that Jacob came to show us around - escorted by the Chief's son is always the best way to see a place. We also went to the palace (a small collection of clay huts - although they did have a horse!) to see the Chief - Jacob's dad. He was very interesting - he'd been a mechanical engineer before being made chief 4 years earlier.

WATERFALLS AND MOUNTAINS
The next day we arrived in Ho Hoe - a mountainous village surrounded by lush green forest in the Volta region.
Wasting no time, we went for a hike to the waterfalls, it was only an hour walk through some quite nice forest. It was beautiful and we went for a swim
in the plunge pool and watched the bats flying at the side of the mountain.
There was the option of climbing to the higher falls but frankly, why risk your life when most water looks the same?
However, I did decide to tackle the country's highest mountain - at 885 metres it's probably a hill - but the highest I've ever been is to the top of Primrose Hill, North London to celeb spot...

Hill or not - it was bloody hard work. We had to stop a few times to rest and often were scrambling up on all fours. But it was worth it - the view from the top was amazing.
The trek down was slightly harder work - my lack of balance soon became apparent as every few minutes I would slip and slide a short way, while a stream of expletives came out of my mouth. One of us - not me I assure you - had to have a 'toilet emergency' up the mountain! That's got to be one of the most inventive places to go to the loo!

KOKROBITE BEACH
To recover from our hectic schedule we spent the last two days on the beach in a hedonistic hippy paradise owned by a British woman.
It was lovely and we met lots of fellow white people. One American girl had even gone to UEA and knew my friend - small world and all that!
I even met a Jewish Canadian, although after a few drinks I started to talk at him in that 'I'm the most interesting person ever' way that you do when you're drunk. After about an hour he excused himself to the bathroom and then never returned, leaving me sitting there like a muppet waiting for my friends to return. Nice to know I still have the ability to talk a guy into bed - kind of!

There wasn't much else to do at the beach except drink fresh banana daquiris, get massages, eat lovely fresh fish from the sea and sunbathe. All very relaxing you would think. But no - enter Lucie...

THE LUCIE DRAMA
Caroline and I were lying on the beach sunbathing when a Ghanaian man jumped over us and started stripping off his clothes. Immediately this caught my attention, along with lots of people standing on the beach and pointing out to sea. We jumped up and immediately my innate journalistic abilities kicked in.
'Something's going on,' I informed Caroline.
Then Charlotte, our fellow volunteer, ran up.
'I can't see Lucie,' she said.
All of a sudden it stopped being interesting and started to be pretty scary. We desperately began scanning the sea in the place we had last seen Lucie - who, although proud of her individual style of doggy paddle, is not the strongest swimmer.
There was no sign of her.
Then all of a sudden we saw her head bobbing above the water far out to sea. About 10 Ghanaians were swimming over to her.
All we could do was stand on the beach, saying 'no, no, no' over and over again.
Thankfully, the tide pulled her back in to shore and she was able to stand up.
After what can only have been a few minutes, she was back on the shore and was fine. She said she realised she was in a bit of trouble but was focussing more on keeping her head above water rather than panicking. She was more embarrassed about all the fuss that had been caused.
The sea is so strong that one minute you're standing up near the beach, the next it's pulled you out so far you can't stand up.
After that scary moment I decided I'd skip sea swimming for the rest of the weekend and take my chances at the bar.

A fond farewell...

2006-04-13T08:45:00.001Z

The little darlings took their exam on Monday after which Matthew and I busied ourselves marking it. The grades ranged between 10 per cent (the illiterate ones) and 89 per cent (bear in mind a lot of it was multiple choice). So did I teach them anything? Who knows...they seem to have a good grasp of quotation marks and the words 'Rubbish' and 'Excellent'. Also, most of them now speak English in quite a high pitched voice - should I take that as hint that I'm slightly shrill?!

We handed them out notebooks and pens that had been sent to me by my bro-in-law courtesy of Merrill Lynch - well done Damo! And gave out packs of felt tip pens for the top grades. They were thrilled as they don't get much but obviously were sad we were leaving them.

One boy even bought me some avocados to say thank you and another one wrote on his exam 'I like Madam Debbi because she is a good teacher'. Obviously he was just trying to butter me up to get extra marks - and it worked!
Got more avocados from our hosts which means I've currently been schlepping 9 avacados round the country - and they're bloody heavy considering I've got the rest of my stuff too.

I wasn't too sad to be leaving Bawdie as we will be back to visit and I had got used to the idea of leaving. All my tears had been shed. The fact no one bothered to see us off also made me think: sod you all then!

We're heading to the coast then off on our tour. Actually we're going to the place where lots of people died on a ferry, so I'm not quite as excited as I was...
However, we have been granted freedom - the country director was going to come with us but now it looks like we'll be heading off on our own. Who knows where we'll end up.
I've already been getting some practice in for dodgy dealings by changing some dollars on the street with some money guy who hisses: "White man - you wanna change?".
I'm running into the arms of the dark side of Ghana, but it's all an experience.

Packing up...

2006-04-08T12:42:00.000Z

Well, we checked out the new project in Jachie – about 20 km from Kumasi. It looks fantastic. There is a computer room, library and crèche. I think I’ll be mainly helping out in the library, logging books, painting the shelves with anti-bug paint to stop the little blighters munching their way through the books.
Also, I will help out in the crèche although that presents a few extra problems for me. Mainly because they are all one to three years old, they are snotty, sicky and shitty – not a pleasing combination to a twenty-something who likes to keep a suitable distance from all that baby-ness. The fact they won’t be able to understand a word I say is also going to be interesting.
But we want to build them toy box (somehow I’m going to dredge up my 15 year old CDT skills and hope some genetic ability for engineering has been passed down through my father – which we blatantly all know is not true!)
And we’re going to get them some toys because currently about 50 kids have nothing but a piece of string and the occasional box to play with.

We also plan on helping with the construction of the new crèche building because the kids all eat, sleep and play in just one room and it’s a bit grim. It smells and there are lots of flies around.
Because we are only around for eight weeks, we can’t do too much building work but we’re going to start weeding the area. This is much more exciting than British weeding because you get to use a machete/cutlass type thing. Obviously this is going to be the most dangerous thing I’ve done so far – sod the malaria/Hep B risk and dodgy tro-tro’s – self-amputation is the way forward.
Anyway in for a penny in for a pound – I’m going to have a machete – ha ha ha!

BAWDIE
Just four more days left in Bawdie. I have to set my kids an English exam on Monday. I’ve already been having stress dreams about it! Then we mark it, pack up and head to the beautiful Cape Coast for Easter (yup that’s Easter on the beach for me!)
Then we have a 10 day tour around the country up to the north of Ghana where it is much drier, hotter and more rural – gulp! But we’re also stopping off at some waterfalls, as well as some canoeing and horse riding –woo hoo!

Moving out, moving on...

2006-04-01T10:36:00.001Z

Project Bawdie is dead, Long live Project Jachie....

Well okay project Bawdie isn't dead, just finished, but it's still terribly hard to leave. We called a meeting and broke the news to everyone. Matt was fantastic and explained that although we had expected to stay for six months, everything had gone so well we were being moved to a different project.
I helpfully burst into hysterical sobs - especially when the headmistress of the school said: "How can you leave my children?" And one of the townsmen, Mr Sam, said: "You're breaking my heart."

Matt said he thought it was a good thing I cried, I mean who wants to be stuck with a snivelling white woman anyway?

So now we must move onto project Jachie - a small village outside Kumasi - which apparently has a local fetish priest who waves his arms around and is slightly crazy. I'm hoping he won't curse me but you can never be too sure.

We are going to visit the project on Sunday - Wednesday before we move there for good on the 12th. I'm really looking forward to the new challenge, meeting new people and getting stuck in to something else. Not that I don't love teaching, but frankly once you've done if for three months, you pretty much know what you're getting - blank looks and more blank looks.

Now I get to have blank looks from a whole different group of people!

Am really keen on getting stuck in working with the HIV orphans and also helping to build a creche for some little ones.

If you want to know more visit www.africachild.net
or just wait for the latest update.

And on a slightly less pleasant note: I'm a medical anomaly having had constipation and diarrohea simultaneously for the last week. If anyone is baffled to how this works read on: Basically you can't poo for days - then you start getting diarrohea pains - still no poo for a few more days - pains continue - then you have worse diarrohea ever - then you still can't poo for a few more days. It would be interesting if a) it wasn't happening to me b) it wasn't so painful c) there wasn't a shortage of toilets and toilet paper d) I wasn't having to spend consecutive hours on a tro-tro travelling round the country.

Total Eclipse...

2006-04-01T09:56:00.005Z

Yes, it was amazing and so much better than anything you could see on telly.
We all took the morning off school, donned our eclipse watching glasses and stared skyward as the moon slowly inched it's way over the sun.
After about an hour, the sun was covered completely, leaving just the corona - all those gasses - alight like a beautiful static firework.
It was awesome - in true meaning of the word, not the awful Americanism.

It was so clear and large - much better than the '99 eclipse in UK.

Yay for Ghana!

All change...maybe!

2006-03-25T15:34:00.000Z

Having had a quick read over my blog I've realised one thing - I'm a moany cow.
So I'd just like to reassure everyone that I'm loving Ghana and having a great time here. Yes, you've guessed - I have regular water again so now I'm happy with a capital H! It's good to know that even in a country which is suffering great poverty and hardship, one can still remain as shallow and selfish as ever.

It's been a funny old week. Matthew and I have realised that we are so fantastic we've completed the computer room in double quick time. It's effectively finished but because of the irregular power, formal computer lessons are impossible. We've (okay Matt's) trained the librarian, installed tutorial projects on word, excel and a typing tutor - which obviously I show off on to all the teachers. They type at about 10 wpm while I'm trying to beat my current best of 73wpm.
I'm still teaching in the school but it's a Gov. one and we're an NGO (Non Government Organisation) so we're not too sure where that's going. And the best news is that the falling down school block is actually being refurbished by the District.
However, it does leave us in a bit of a quandary as our other main project was to build a replacement block.

So there has been talk about Matthew and I moving to a new project near Kumasi (Ghana's second biggest city) and helping with women and HIV/AIDS - I'm really excited as this is something I would love to do but it's all early days yet.
Also, we feel very at home in Bawdie and will be sad to leave - if we eventually do.

One thing Ghana isn't is boring - that's for sure.

Nothing ever happens...

2006-03-18T14:47:00.000Z

The highlight of this week was my trip to the toilet the other morning. As usual there was a powercut but for extra drama there was also a giant cockroach galavanting about. So I had to sit perched on the toilet, clutching a torch, feet off the ground toes curled while trying to go to the loo.
This was not very easy or enjoyable. To add to the pleasure of my toilet trip, I then had to go off in search of a bucket of water to flush it with and battle the cockroach once again.
If you would like to experience life in Ghana then do the following: Go into your toilet and keep the light off, use only a torch to conduct your business (I find the technique of holding one end in your mouth while you rip off sheets of toilet paper works well). Keep your feet off the floor and toes curled in a permanent state of anxiety for entire visit. For added authenticity stick a picture of a cockroach onto an unfurled wire coat hanger and ask a friend to stand outside and slide the cockroach under the door, moving it around erratically and make scuttling noises. Try to track it with your torch at all times. Repeat every day as many times as necessary.

On another note - I'm bored, tired, dirty, fed up with power cuts, no water, no internet access (apart from once a week for an hour), unresponsive kids, the monotony of daily life, bugs of all sorts, being bitten.

I have amended my list of luxuries accordingly:
Previously I dreamed of facials, massages, cinema, tv and comfortable clean bed.
Now all I wish for is a shower - cold if necessary, a tap with running water, a flushing toilet, and electricity so I can at least read a book in the evening.

Of course the irony of me washing in a bucket but carefully lathering up my face with Clinique soap and refreshing with Clinique moisturiser has not been lost on me.
I'm desperately trying to cling onto my shallow, London ways but one by one they are being taken from me.

On the upside though I've cracked this teaching malarky - just offer them a sticker for good results and the lazy little beggars will do anything for you.
I offered a sticker for 20 out of 20 for a spelling test, which resulted in nearly all the class getting 20. Which confirms, they do understand me, they can do the work - it's just they're not going to unless you bribe them - pretty much like British kids then.

The land of the great unwashed...

2006-03-12T13:01:00.000Z

MOSQUITO BITES – 17
SHOWERS -1
POISONOUS SNAKES – 1

Well, I’m no reptile expert but it looked like it could give a nasty nip and had quite a mean look in it’s eye.
The water situation is mildly better – I had a whole shower last week. But for some reason I’ve become very attractive to mosquitoes – probably my lack of personal hygiene. I never notice them bite me until I start scratching my legs like a maniac and then it’s all too late. The problem with mosquito bites is that they make addictive scratching. Like Pringles – once you pop, you can’t stop!

PARTY AT THE KING’S PALACE

Last weekend was Ghana’s Independence day – 49 years since they broke the rule of their colonial masters (us)!
There was a massive parade of all the local chiefs in our neighbouring village on Saturday.
It was amazing – the chiefs were being carried on palanquins and were dripping in gold - crowns, breast plates, bracelets, staffs, medallions - which although looked fake was actually real.
The parade started at the King’s palace and went all through the town. We stayed with the Bawdie chief and danced with everyone from the village. I’ve finally found a use for my big bum – shaking my bootie with the African ladies. I had no shame but everyone seemed to love it. I had the protection of a grandmother type figure who shooed away any unsuitable men and drunk women.
We went back to the palace for a presentation ceremony but it was all in Twi so Matt and I snuck off to a spot for a drink.

INDEPENDENCE DAY…
…was on Monday 6 March. All the children from the school marched through the village, drumming and singing. Apparently my marching was awful and army cadet Matt shook his head quite a lot. I made the children laugh though.
In the afternoon we went to visit a very rich chief who owns all of our village.
I was taking the micky out of Matt’s voice so he set me up saying I had a lovely voice and I should sing for them all. The reality is that whenever I sing it sounds more like a strangled cat - which he knows only too well.
I was trying to wriggle out of it when our host, Mrs Adjei, said: ‘Don’t disgrace your mother!’
I knew there was no getting out of it. So in a trembling, strangled voice I began to decimate the only Ghanaian song I know.
I was bright red and Matt was in hysterics. My humiliation was complete!
Anyway, I was then given more sour wine – when will I learn? – And the chief settled down for a gossip.
He was complaining how the local goldmine is pillaging his earth and people – they want to cut down lots of cocoa trees to dig for gold but are not offering a fair price or any decent social compensation for the people. Once again confirming my opinions that the gold mines are evil.

So once again just a regular week in Ghana.

FORT KNOX

2006-03-03T14:43:00.000Z

I was in the library/computer room the other day when I saw a slingshot on the table with some stones lying next to it. It was a proper Bart Simpson style one, made from wood and rubber bands. Matt and I looked knowingly at each other: Obviously confiscated from a naughty student.
We asked the librarian who owned it - the security guard…
The same security guard who not only patrols the school grounds but also keeps watch over our computer room. The computer room that Matt and I lovingly installed four computers in. And also paid several thousand cedis (that’s the currency in Ghana) to have metal bars put over the windows. Now we learn that the security provisions consist of one guard, who must be about seventy, a slingshot and some stones!

MONEY CAN'T BUY YOU LOVE...
BUT IT CAN BUY YOU AN EDUCATION - EVEN IN GHANA

This week we went to visit the local private school, Dennis. It’s in the same village as ours but gets excellent exam results while our school has dire ones. Pretty similar to the state/public education dichotomy in Britain.
Matt and I went along expecting some quite nice grounds and buildings. How stupid can two people be considering they’ve been living here for two months already?
The school consisted of a few rundown shacks, known as classrooms and a few proper classroom blocks. There were 95 students in Form 3 (the equivalent of our top year of secondary school) and 50 kids in each class below it (two classes for each year). So why the good school results? We soon found out when the headmaster revealed Form 3’s time table to us:
The students sleep at the school, either in the office or under trees.
They wake up at 3am and start lessons at 4am. At 6.30 am they break for breakfast. They start lessons again at 8am until 5pm. They eat some food and then resume lessons from 6.30pm til 10pm.
‘And some of them don’t even sleep after that,’ the headmaster told us proudly.
I’d also be a friggin’ genius if I studied for 19 hours a day (at least I think that’s what it adds up to – my maths is a bit shaky thanks to my state school and five hours of lessons a day!)
Some of the kids in the nursery – one to four years old – knew their alphabet better than my kids and they’re 11 – 16!
What was most shocking was that their facilities were no where near as good as our school. We have a library and now a computer room. There are also smaller classes (mainly because Dennis poach all our bright kids we learned from our disgruntled teachers later).
But as far as I could see there was no reason why our kids shouldn’t be doing better - apart from their hideous grasp of the English language, in which all their exams are written. All their other subjects like Maths and Science are conducted in English. They could be scientists or politicians in the making but trapped by their lack of English – I can’t imagine how frustrating it must be. Well, I imagine nearly as frustrating as teaching an English class when no one can read, speak or understand it!
So fired up with enthusiasm and the desire to be better than Dennis private school, I immediately went back to my school and introduced compulsory remedial reading classes for select children who are basically illiterate. I have a 14-year-old boy who cannot read the word ‘get’. I’m determined to get these kids to read.

HOW NOT TO LOSE FACE IN FRONT OF A CLASS FULL OF 13-YEAR-OLDS...
Emotions – a word that Ghanaian school children do not understand. Feelings – something that Ghanaian children cannot locate within themselves. In last week’s class I was trying to drag out the feelings associated with when you are happy, sad, nervous, angry, etc and to get the children to describe them.
The fluttery stomach when you are nervous, the hairs on the back of your neck when you are scared, the light, care-free feeling when you are happy etc.
However, as I was scribbling on the blackboard, I had an uninvited teaching aid: two big, black, hairy spiders preparing to drop on my head. As soon as I saw them I yelped, shot across the classroom and began to quake over the other side of the room, much to the amusement of my class.
I then pretended that actually I wasn’t bothered by the spiders at all, I was just using them to teach scared, frightened and terrified…nope, they didn’t buy it either.

GENERAL UPDATE
Still no running water – make that two weeks of not being able to have a shower, flush the loo or wash your hands. (Although I’d like to assure those purists out there that we have got the occasional bucket of water to dab behind our ears). To make it worse there are loads of power cuts which means the fans don’t work and we sweat even more. At the end of last week I ran out of clean underwear completely, so had to wear a bikini instead (under my clothes people – not instead!) It’s slightly wearing to say the least: All I want is a tap that has water when I turn it …

As for our new school block: We had a meeting with the towns people. They assured us that the Regional minister would provide the hundreds of bags of cement we needed, Matthew and I have raised some money which could be used for tools and a few building materials.
Our fantastic plan to get the rest of the materials and money we needed was to visit the local gold mining companies. I’d wear a low-cut top, smile a lot and get some money out of them. Perfect!
Well err no – actually the minister told us to go away when we wanted some cement and now we’re totally stuffed. Matt and I have 600 pounds but we need 17000 – and somehow I don’t think a tight top is going to conjure up that sort of figure from the Gold mines…but I’m sure we’ll come up with something.

This weekend is the 49th Independence Day celebrations (6th March to be exact). Our best friend, the King, is having a party in the next village so obviously we’re going. Should be lots of fun. The kids at school have to do a march past on Monday and the school is finished by 10am and we’ve got Tuesday off.

HOUSE KEEPING
Al, my scouse lodger, is moving out of my flat the beginning of April, so if anyone knows anyone who needs a room in London for three months (April to June) let me know.
Mates rates apply. Email me on debbi.marco@googlemail.com or text on 00233242844804

The Heartbeat Gallery

2006-02-25T10:18:00.001Z

2006-02-25T10:11:00.000Z

2006-02-25T10:05:00.000Z

Water water every where...

2006-02-25T09:48:00.001Z

...but not a drop to wash with.

Imagine that every morning you have a cold dripping shower head under which you stand desperately trying to rinse off shampoo and soap with the minimal amount of water that is 'flowing' from the tap.
Meanwhile, the ominous sounds of buzzing mosquitoes are threatening to destroy you if you spend longer than five minutes in there.
Now imagine it has been taken away. Yup - one little luxury of a cold shower has been cruelly ripped from my hands and replaced with a mere bucket - one which I have to fill myself from a big tank of rain water can you believe?!!
Our water pump has broken leaving us high and dry - literally!
But worse than the lack of washing facilities is the fact the toilets don't flush: the smell and general hygiene levels have plummeted through the floor. The mosquitoes love it. Happily, they dwell by the stagnant water laced with urine and faeces and munch happily into my flesh every time I dare to enter the bathroom to dump a bucket of water over my head. And I'm down to my last clean pair of pants!

Add to this general exhaustion from teaching a bunch of unresponsive barely literate kids in a language few of them understand. I have introduced a sticker chart to my Form 2 as a desperate attempt to motivate them. Although this has worked for some, for others it just induces cries of: 'Madam, Madam - I should have a sticker. Give me two.' etc

I witnessed another but most brutal caning so far. The smallest boy in the school, Berkoh - who is only about four feet tall and tiny in every way - was late for assembly. He got four massive whacks with a huge cane wielded by a fully grown man. Poor Berkoh was knocked to his knees by the second blow and cried out in anguish. I thought the beating would stop but it just carried on - four hits is quite a lot when you've just knocked a small boy off his feet with the force of your blows.
I had tears in my eyes as a few other late comers got a thrashing too.
I don't know what to do about it - it's their culture but I can't bear to be around it.
All the kids know it too because as soon as there is a caning they all look over to me to see the pain and distress on my face- even though it's not me being hit.

This weekend, Matthew and I have escaped from it all and gone for a weekend in Kumasi which is the second biggest city in Ghana in the North of the country.
We're very excited because our hotel room has a shower and a flushable toilet - can you even imagine such luxuries?! But we did get woken up at 7am on Saturday as the workman started banging outside our window...

THE JOURNEY FROM HELL

2006-02-25T09:36:00.000Z

On our way back from Tarkwa last Saturday, we headed to the bus station. The bus station is a haphazard combination of taxis, tro-tros, and vendors. Music blares out intermingled with traders calling our their wares – not quite ‘get your pound of cherries here love’ but nearly.
We got on a tro-tro to home. But before it can leave it must have every single one of its seats filled. So we waited. And we waited. Half an hour went by: no one got on the bus. Then 45 minutes: still no one got on the bus. Then an hour. The sky above us began to darken – a storm was on the way. No one was getting on the bus.
We watched as the tro-tros for Bogoso, the village next to ours, filled and departed.
The skies opened and water cascaded down. We made an executive decision, jumped off our bus, ran through the rain onto the bus for Bogoso.
There we waited for the last seat to fill. The rain lashed the outside of the bus. But the doors and windows had rusted away and didn’t fit properly, so the rain leaked onto our shoulders and backs. The floor of the bus was also rusted and the rain splashed up our legs as it rebounded off the ground.
Eventually after spending a total of 80 minutes at the bus station we began to move.
It was dark and the pot holed roads are dangerous enough in the daylight. The lightening fizzed and cracked in the sky ahead of us, lighting up the sodden road for just a second before plunging us into darkness.
The plucky tro-tro ploughed on into the darkness and we knew we would be home in under an hour. And then it happened. The sound you never want to hear when you are in a tro-tro in the rain – the scraping of metal on road.
Matt and I looked at each other – a flat tyre.
Everyone piled off the bus. 18 people standing on a road side looking forlornly at the immobile tro-tro as the rain trickled down our necks.
We asked if he had a spare tyre.
No – don’t be so silly.
So there we were in the pitch black, miles from home, with no spare tyre.
Fellow passengers tried to flag down passing drivers but they just swerved to avoid us and drove on.
We were getting desperate. We could be there all night. We pulled out our phones – no signal. But it didn’t matter. We had no-one to phone anyway. Our host did not have a phone let alone a car to come and get us, there were no taxi numbers – even the AA couldn’t help us now.
Gamely we decided we would walk. There was no way any vehicle could pick up 18 people and it couldn’t be that far…
We took two steps in the direction of home. The road was so dark we could barely see it. It was like staring down the barrel of an extremely large gun: if we walked we would surely be knocked down and killed. We headed back to our fellow passengers agreeing that to walk was probably the most stupid idea we’d had yet (apart from me suggesting we buy a candle and walk with that…).
By now a crowd had gathered to watch our plight. Everything is entertainment in Ghana – especially two white people stranded in the rain.
Then Matt spotted a taxi across the road.
We ran over. This could be our only chance of getting home that night.
We asked him how much to Bawdie.
He wanted to charge us 150,000 cedis – compare this to the usual cost of the journey which is 12,000 cedis each. Gamely we counted our money – 90,000 cedis.
We offered it to him. He lowered his price to 100,000 cedis.
Again we told him we only had 90,000 cedis.
‘You’re white,’ he argued. ‘You must have more.’
We showed him our empty wallets. There were no banks. That was all we had.
‘100,000,’ he insisted.
‘90,000,’ we told him.
A strong crowd had gathered. There was laughing at our predicament.
We asked how much to Bogoso – the village next to ours.
Again 100,000. Which even if we had, it would leave us no money to get to Bawdie. He wouldn’t hear of it.
Then he said he would charge 7,000 per person for two people in the front seat and four in the back.
We said we’d do that.
But he would only take the white people for 100,000 cedis.
‘You’re not in your country now,’ someone said.
This then provoked a 10 minute rant from me about how we were working for an NGO building schools for Ghanaians, had given up our jobs, family and friends to help them etc etc before I was dragged off by Matt and a friendly Ghanaian man called Kwame.
By this point someone had found a spare tyre and was fitting it to our tro-tro. After 10 minutes we all got on. We got to Bogoso where, after some more bartering, we got a taxi back to Bawdie. Our driver was called Home Boy so it was with great satisfaction I got to say: ‘Just here, Home Boy,’ when we arrived.
All in all our 45 minute journey took us three hours! And you thought the tube was bad!

2006-02-18T16:59:00.001Z

TEAM 1

THE COMPUTER ROOM

The price of Gold

2006-02-18T12:12:00.000Z

Here’s a bit of background for those of you whose Ghanaian history is a bit rusty. Before Ghana received independence in 1957, the country was known as the Gold Coast – because of its massive gold reserves. Today the export of gold accounts for over 40 per cent of the total export market. Needless to say gold is one of the most important commodities here.

Last Sunday on our return from the coast we learned that our host, Mr Adjei, had been paid a visit by the local gold mining company, Bogoso Gold.
They informed him that they had found gold a few miles down the road and wanted to build a road 100 metres wide through his arboretum.
Obviously Matt and I were shocked and had immediate images of tree hugging and chaining ourselves to various plants. But Mr Adjei told us we were powerless to do anything. Because gold mining is a nationally supported industry, the companies can do pretty much what they want – even if it involves destroying acres of forestry and scaring away all the animals that live there.

If Mr Adjei makes a fuss, he will be black listed by the government and they can make serious problems for him. To make matters worse, there is a perfectly good road the gold company can use which goes through Bawdie but they have decided that is too busy. Also, they only plan on keeping the road for a couple of years – mindless destruction of wildlife and forestry for the sake of a bit of gold over the next 24 months. Welcome to Ghana!

DON'T MESS WITH MADAM DEBBI

Ahhh cute – small children, eager and ready to learn. Don’t you believe it. Form 1 felt the full force of the Marco wrath this week. They kept doing other work in my lesson, talking and not paying attention. After telling one girl off four times I finally kicked her out of my class! Then when I had them again in the afternoon, someone was still doing other work. I’ve never seen a room of 40 kids look quite as scared and attentive as they did when I shouted at them all. I was in full rage.
However, Form 2, the bad class, is coming on in leaps and bounds. One of the girls, Esther, who is not very clever and generally sits at the side of the room staring out the window, actually moved seats to the middle of the class so she could see the board better and be more involved. I can’t tell you how happy that made me feel. I’m beginning to feel quite a lot of emotion towards my kids now! Who’d have thought that was going to happen?!

THE COMPUTER ROOM

Yes, thanks to the powers of Marco and Beale (Matt), Bawdie JSS school is the first within miles to have a fully equipped computer room. We’ve bought four second hand computers and it’s looking pretty special.
Obviously the first step we took was banning all children – we don’t want their grubby little mitts all over our lovely computers. They make do with pressing their noses up against the windows as I busy myself with solitaire and minesweeper.
The teachers are really excited as we’ve promised to teach them all computer skills. Well Matt is – I’ve a feeling my computer teaching will be on a par with my maths…
However, we’re looking for another four – so if any kind soul over there wants to send us some computers – we’d be thrilled and I would personally buy you a beer or two!

oh and I can't remember if I've mentioned but the school block is going to cost 17000 pounds. So far we have 600 pounds. So fundraising team go go go! Pull on your running shoes, bake some cakes, sell some rubbish on ebay and show me the colour of your money...

The Invisible Woman

2006-02-12T15:57:00.002Z

A play by Debbi Marco

Matthew (also known as Kofi) and Debbi are sitting in a spot drinking a beer.

Two men from the village enter.

Local man: Kofi! Good evening how are you?

Matthew: Good evening.

Local man: So, Kofi, where is your wife?

Matthew (touching Debbi's arm): She is here.

Matthew and Debbi pretend to be married on occasion for purposes of ease.

Local man: Ahh when did she arrive?

Matthew and Debbi : We got here at the same time. We've been here for four weeks.

Local man (glaring at Debbi): I'm talking to the man.

Excellent – 27 years of raging feminism brought to its knees in one foul swoop.

LET THERE BE LIGHT

We're averaging two power cuts per day at the moment, mostly in the evening. This is exciting because it means there are no fans, no possibility of reading or anything. The only thing left to do is sweat and then go to bed.

The project is creaking along like a 90-year-old woman. We still have no computers in our computer room and every meeting with Kojo, the engineer, ended in him not turning up – so basically not even beginning.

Matt and I finally tracked him down at his house to find him sitting there drinking beer with a football injury – grrr.

Finally after two weeks of harassment, he has provided us with plans and an estimate – 17000 pounds approx. So far we have 750 pounds – fantastic!

BLACK MAGIC

There was a slight incident at school this week. A boy had openly cursed a teacher and they had called his dad into school to discuss it.

But by curse, I don't mean he swore at the teacher we're talking a good old voodoo style curse. Hilarious!

Bascially some money had gone missing and then been returned with a tiny amount missing. The teacher in question, James, had asked this boy Paul how much money had gone missing. Paul took it that he was being accused, went home, told his mum, who told him to curse whoever had taken the money, to die and also the teacher who accused him.

Throughout the meeting more and more teachers joined in – leaving just Matt teaching. At one point the poor boy was made to go down on his knees and apologise.

It was farcical to say the least.

ALL WORK AND NO PLAY

Continuing with the theme of school discipline, all the teachers decided to confront Form 2 as to why they weren't learning anything.

The children all had to write down their reasons on a piece of paper, which were then read out and addressed.

They're creative kids if nothing else.

One boy said that because he rode his bicycle to school, he forgot everything he'd learned at school by the time he got home and forgot everything he learned at home by the time he got to school.

One boy said the classroom was too noisy so he just said Yes every time the class did.

Another girl said she was too frightened by the cane which the teachers (not me) all hold and therefore couldn't learn anything.

It was a load of old rubbish – they're just not engaged and have fallen totally below the level they should be and are now struggling and the teachers are doing nothing to help them.

But on the upside – nearly everyone turned up for Matt's football practice – about 80 kids. Even I donned an England shirt and charged around the football pitch.

The girls were relegated to a small space while the boys had most of the field and both goal posts. I made a stand for feminism by shouting at them every time their game spilled over onto our area.

It basically went: 'Are you a girl? No? Then get off our pitch' to every boy that ran on. Even one of the male teachers! The girls all found it amusing.

At the end we lined up to take penalties against Matt – the pressure was on with the whole school watching but I hammered it home and gloated for the rest of the day!

BEACH BUM

Have spent this weekend on the beach in Takoradi on the coast with the other two volunteers, Lucie and Caroline.

It's only a four hour tro-tro ride away but quite a death defying one. It rained and there were huge puddles all over the road. Our driver was swerving like a slalom skier trying to avoid the water filled pot-holes. He couldn't avoid one large puddle the width of the road. When we went through it my feet actually got wet! I had to close my eyes at several points in the journey too – but it was all worth it when we hit the beach.

Busea beach is amazing and amazingly deserted. There were a few other white people there, mainly Americans who worked for the Peace Corp. I lay around, drank fresh fruit juice, swam in the sea, topped up my tan. I even found somewhere that sold wine and got drunk – and frankly it would have been rude not to.

You can take the girl out of London….

Toilet troubles...

2006-02-04T15:26:00.000Z

…but surprisingly it’s not me.
Yes, Matt – the support actor in the drama that is Debbi does Ghana – has been ill.
Basically he was pooing lots at the beginning of the week. He was in bed unable to move far from the toilet.
We were slightly worried as he’d had a bad bout of dysentery last year when he was in Cameroon – the lucky blighter had lost a stone in about four days but apparently that was due to shitting blood so I don’t think Rosemary Connelly has much to worry about quite yet.
Mr and Mrs Adjei, our hosts, were very worried about him.
Every time they saw me they would ask how he was and ask if he wanted to eat anything yet.
When I went to the school all the teachers and the headmistress were very distressed to hear he was ill.
‘We are praying for him’ was what everyone said.
It was nice to have so much concern.

By Tuesday he wasn’t much better and we’d decided it was a bug rather than just dodgy food. We decided to get a taxi to the hospital in the next village – Akropong.
Poor Matt was so white and tired as we walked down to the taxi stop. There was already one guy in the front seat and a woman and her child in the back but shared taxis is the only way in Ghana.
We piled in and set off on the 40 minute drive. Halfway there, the taxi was flagged down on the road. It pulled over and two men started piling in huge sacks of cocoa (that they’d probably stolen). Every time they put one in the boot, the taxi sank a little bit lower. Matt was turning green by this point. Then one guy piled into the front seat and the other squeezed into the back with us – that meant there were eight of us including the baby and four huge sacks of cocoa in ONE car! I ended up sitting on Matt’s lap with my boobs in his face – poor boy – that was the last thing we needed.

We got to the hospital, which was basically a large building with lots of rooms with sick people lying around in the shade looking very sorry for themselves. We saw the Matron who blatantly didn’t have a clue what Matt had. She gave him drugs for everything: stomach bug; malaria; cramps.
I took poor Matthew home to an increasingly concerned Mr and Mrs Adjei and put him on a diet of plain bread, plain rice and chicken.

The next day at school I got another barrage of enquiries after Matt. Then when I got back from teaching Mrs Adjei grabbed me to find out what he was eating for lunch.
The next day before I’d even got out of the shower Mrs Adjei was banging on the door wanting to know what Matt was eating for breakfast.
Then back to school for, yup you’ve guessed, more prayers and enquiries after Matt’s bowel movements.

After four days of this it was wearing a bit thin for me. He only had diahorrea after all which is a bit shitty but he wasn’t dying. He was just lying around reading and listening to the radio.
Then Mr and Mrs Adjei went to a funeral in the village but I wasn’t allowed to go because I had to stay and look after Matt…hmmm.

This was all on top of the fact that whenever we walk through the village people speak mostly to him and ignore me because men are so much more important and interesting - I only get noticed if someone wants to marry me! I was feeling a bit invisible already and this circus wasn’t helping.

The cherry on the cake was when Matt was feeling a bit better and we bumped into Education officials in the next village. They didn’t even know my name but had heard Matt had been really ill and wanted to know if he was alright! Grrrrrr!

But you’ll all be glad to know he’s better now and I’m pleased, both for him and my own sanity.
I think if I’d heard: ‘How is Mr Matthew? We are praying for him’ one more time I might have lamped someone!

We don' t need no education...

2006-02-04T13:56:00.000Z

I continued the week in the guise of a teacher. I swotted up on the curriculum and read the text books.
I’m formally in charge of Form 1 (which has 60 kids age 11 and 12 and range from illiterate to actually quite smart) and form 2 which only has around 30 kids who also range from illiterate to clever.
We started with a story in their government issued text book about the Monkey and the Shark. Problem one - they didn't know what a shark was and it went from there...
This job is frankly impossible at times.
I gamely tried to teach Form 1 personal pronouns and object and subject - when some can barely read this is not fun.
I soon gave up and taught them 'If you're happy and you know it clap your hands...'
I dread to think what the next generation of Ghanaian school kids are going to achieve with me in charge.
A few smart ones kept moving seats to try and trick me into calling on them to answer again - which isn't helpful when you're trying to learn 60 names!
But they're good kids and even if they don't know why this mad white woman is bounding around in front of their classroom - hopefully one will learn something from me at least.

Back to school

2006-02-04T13:35:00.000Z

I started school officially on Monday. I arrived nice and early with my new pencil case and shiny shoes.
The children were sweeping the school area with brushes made out of twigs, something they do every morning.
I arrived at 8.00 to find that there was only ONE other teacher there.
Where was everyone? Apparently some weren't back from their weekends away and others had gone to nearby villages to collect their wages as it was the end of the month...
Unbelievable but typical of Ghana.

BAD BOY...

The children lined up outside for assembly. They said prayers then the teacher called out a boy to see if he'd cut his nails. He hadn't. So the teacher took the thin bamboo cane in his hand and struck the boy twice across his right shoulder blade and arm.
I was frozen to the spot and had to look away as the swishing wood made contact with the boy. I'm almost certain I was more upset than he was.
The teacher, James, explained to me later that the boy had been warned on Friday to cut his nails but hadn't. So that's alright then!

CLASSROOM CAPERS
So as I was the only other teacher in the school I thought I ought to teach some kids. I taught some of the younger ones 'head shoulders knees and toes' which is always a winner. But as soon as we went on to anything more complex I had a sea of blank faces staring at me. It's gonna be a long six months.

I went to teach form 3 who are the top class in the school and preparing for exams. Ordinarily I wouldn't teach them but their teacher was in bed or something. After two hours of teaching them English the plaintive cry of: 'Madam Debbi can't you teach anything else except English?' came.
Frankly the answer was no. I am, albeit a noisy one, a one trick pony.
But gamely I sent for their Maths books - hilarious!
For those who don't know I got a C at GCSE maths - with the help of a maths tutor and my engineer father. I am number phobic and Maths illiterate. It was never going to be pretty.

I figured out pretty quickly who the smart ones were. I got them up at the blackboard solving various problems. All seemed to be going well until I said: 'good, well done', after one particular long division sum, when a hand went up.
'Madam - that's not the right answer.'
Shit! I'd been exposed as an idiot - by a 15 year old. Luckily they worked it out correctly, I picked my face off the floor and set them all homework instead.

Note to self: you can't even do Maths, don't try and teach it!

My Address

2006-01-27T11:59:00.000Z

You can send me love, post and presents at
Debbi Marco
c/o Mr Adjei
Bawdie Arboretum
PO Box BG61
Bogoso
Western Region

My mate, the King

2006-01-27T11:37:00.000Z

Ghana is big on tradtion and introduction, so on our first weekend in Bawdie, we dressed in our traditional African clothes (I can't tell you how awful I looked but try to imagine if you can large peacock print in green and yellow and black covering me from head to toe!)
We walked through the town like a freakshow in circus with everyone pointing and laughing. The local gong gong beater, Tarzan, had been beating the gong since 5am informing everyone in the village there was to be a meeting. He walked beside us as we walked to the meeting spot beating out an announcement that the white people were coming.
We arrived to find about 100 people surrounding the elders of the village and of course the chief. We shook hands and then sat in our seats while the elders proceeded to get up and shake our hands again. Lots of hand shaking in Ghana!
It was much more open than our last meeting with the chiefs in Kakumundo in Cape Coast - the villagers all shouted and cheered as we said our names and then lots of people spoke into a microphone to issue their support for us.
I felt quite emotional as one speaker said - 'you have come so far from England to be with us in our mosquito infested village. It shows how much you love us.'
I felt quite overwhelmed by it all - that or the reality of death by malaria was creeping everso slightly closer. Esp as my anti-malarial tablets keep making me sick!

Luckily there was no downing of spirits - largely because it was 8am I feel.

We went to the school where I will be teaching English and Matt will teach PE and some Maths. We're setting up a computer room for them in their library and also building a 4 block school for the infant classes. Where they are now is death defying. The roof has collapsed injuring some of the kids, the play area has sharp broken areas of concrete, it's unbelievable to think that three to five year-olds are spending every day in such a dangerous enviroment. It has motivated us to get the school built as soon as possible.
We're also building a kitchen too. Busy, busy busy!

PROGRESS SO FAR
We've found an engineer to look at the site and present us with some plans and estimates. Somehow we need to find companies to donate the cement we need or find people to pay for it - the 750 pounds we have isn't going to go too far!
All the villagers have said they will come and do the labouring and obviously Matt and I will get our hands dirty.

In a bid to make friends in high places we met the District Chief Executive - Doris- who pledged her help and maybe even some money. AND we met the King of the entire Western Region.
We went to his palace!! How funny was that. He was sitting on his throne and we had to bow as we shook his hand. All his elders sat round him and we had to speak through them as he idly played with his mobile phone.

We were given a tour round the palace and shown the room the president of Ghana, John Kufour stays in when he visits. Then we move to some seats that were sheltered by trees for an informal chat with the King.
We had to address him as Nana (Twi for King) and stand every time we spoke to him although we invariably forgot most of the time.
He was very cool and told us how he had lived in Washington DC for a few years in the 70s.
He invited us to come and plant a tree at his palace and we invited him to dinner at Mr and Mrs Adjei's (apparently he's been before!)
Matt got slightly over excited and invited him to his house in England to stay, which had me sniggering.
The served us some wine which I excitedly poured a big glass of - only to find out it was badly corked and impossible to drink although the King and his subject were merrily drinking it.
I made big eyes at Matt and he bravely downed it for me - don't know how he wasn't sick!

TEACHING DAYS
I had to teach some English lessons off the cuff the other day. I have form one and two who are around 11-14 years old.
I was knackered after three lessons. They can't understand what I'm saying and when I ask them if they've understood they say: Yes Madam Debbi
Even though I know they're blatantly lying! There's going to be a generation of illiterate Ghanaian kids thanks to me!
I'm going to have to sit down and do some serious lesson planning - half the kids are illiterate and some are very bright.
And I'm totally unqualified! Help!

Keep on Truckin'

2006-01-27T11:21:00.000Z

So more about Bawdie - my home for the next six months.
It is actually beautiful - it is surrounded by lush green trees and mountains, which stretch into the distance for miles.
We (Matt the other volunteer and myself) are staying with Mr and Mrs Adjei at their guest house. Our garden is a 30 acre arboretum with cinnamon and nutmeg trees, cocoa trees, citrus trees and massive lakes.
We're at the top of the hill, so it is much cooler than the rest of the village.
But as for the village itself - it's just crazy. Basically it's tiny and it's a truck stop.
By day, vendors line the streets selling bread, fried cassava (like yam) and boiled eggs - not a pineapple in the market -not even for ready money!
But by night huge trucks loaded down with cocoa appear and line the side of the road. The truckers sleep under their trucks on mattresses and the bulking outlines cast a shadow throughout the village. The smell of cocoa is overpowering and you feel as though you can almost touch it's heaviness as you walk past.
Then, early morning, as suddenly they arrived, they disappear again, only to be replaced by more the following night.
It does mean the town isn't as safe as it could be but the local people keep an eye out for us.
We've been checking out a few local spots (spot = bar).
But some of the spots only serve 'hot' drinks - basically local gin and rum. In the words of Michael Barrymore: 'What's a hotspot not?!
Anyway, we've been heading for the beer. We tried to frequent our nearest - Downtown spot, but we established they only had three beers in the place (nothing else - not even a coke or a fanta) - so we drank two and left them one remaining beer until their delivery in a few days time!
We headed to Top Class spot where they know us well now!

There are also police barriers which mark each end of town - we know the police officers quite well and they are impressed when we greet them in Twi (pronounced Tree) but we are one trick ponies and will eventually be found out that we only know 'good morning, how are you, I am fine and see you later' but as it is we're pulling big laughs so if it aint broke don't fix it!

The local town to buy fruit and veg is Bogaso - it's about a 20 minute drive away but doesn't have any internet - that's an hour and a half tro-tro ride away. I have a feeling it's going to be quite different from my London life style - we have powercuts every day nearly and I've been washing my clothes in a big bowl and taking cold showers. I'm getting quite used to the thin layer of grubbiness that covers me.
And (take note Jane) I've stopped wearing deoderant because interestingly - if you sweat all day from the second you get up til the second you sleep - deoderant is a laughable concept - free all armpits everywhere!

The Decision...

2006-01-27T11:00:00.000Z

Yup I'm living in the village hence radio silence for a week or so!
I'm not quite sure what happened - one moment we were debating who would stay in Cape Coast by the sea, with lovely people, lovely food, internet access, good transport, cute kids etc and who would stay in Bawdie, teaching grotty teenagers, an hour and a half drive to the nearest internet cafe, in the middle of nowhere...
All of a sudden I heard this voice pipe up saying: 'I'll do it' and then realised it was me. In a moment of altruistic madness I threw away the opportunity to live my dream six-month beach holiday and opt to actually do some work - how did that happen?!

It must have been something to do with the journey up here, which has probably been the most surreal situation in my life.
We crammed onto a bus (no A/C or mounted TVs obviously) - it wouldn't have passed an MOT that's for sure and there were so many people on it you wouldn't have thought it physically possible.
As we set off for our five hour trek across country and woman and the front stood up and started preaching. I couldn't believe it - trapped on a bus with a preacher. We bounced along the rocky roads which spewed up bright red sandy dust, coating everyone as the 'Amen's' and hymns punctuated the swerves to miss the pot holes you could lose your life down.
Eventually she shut up and sat down - after a hat had been passed around to put money in.
Then I was free to focus on my own prayers -for my life - while I was busy holding on to my boobs worried they would knock someone out as we sped over the dirt track that was passing for a road.
Every African on the bus was a back seat driver - imagine 50 of those as you're trying to negotiate the hinterland of Ghana! Every dodgy over-taking was met with the sucking of teeth, mumbles, shouts and on one particular manouvere the entire bus stood up like Meerkats to glare at the offending truck we'd nearly forced of the road.
Now I know why everyone in the country is so religious -it's the dodgy transport that means they need to pray for their lives.

Since I've been in Ghana I've spent half my time crammed onto people's laps in taxis (we did get stopped by the police but a small bribe soon sent him away with a whistle and a smile).

In the village the only form of transport are tro-tros. The best way to describe these is to imagine your school minibus - then imagine I've been driving it for a while - then imagine it's been left on dump for six months, rusted until the doors are falling off and various mirrors and seats and vital things like brakes are missing and bingo - welcome to your local mode of transport.
However, looking death in the face has become such a regularity I'm quite blase about the whole thing....

It had to happen...

2006-01-18T14:12:00.000Z

...but thankfully not to me!
Yes one of the volunteers fell into an open sewer. Round of applause to Matt!
Actually he handled it really well: he slipped, one foot went in, then he did a sort of commando/ cricket bowler roll before jumping to his feet. The rest of us stood aghast not daring to laugh as we all knew we could be bringing on a full head-first fall in the future - and nothing's worth that!

Fresh from wading in the sewage we went to meet the elders of the village. They were all dressed in traditional robes, which was African print material wrapped around their bodies, sarong style.
In accordance with tradition we bought them a gift of traditional spirits which were about 70% proof.
We had to introduce ourselves and explain our mission - basically the building of schools and teaching of kids.
They welcomed us and promised to protect us and help us. Then we all had to drink shots of the gin/paint stripper stuff from the same glass to represent our unity.
We had to have two shots and it made my eyes water. A few people tipped it on the ground - but there's no point wasting alcohol!
As we left to leave, one of the project co-ordinators, Sly, came after to me to see if I was alright. Apparently someone had said I looked a bit drunk.
I still maintain I was just watching my step but it appears my reputation has followed me across the Atlantic.
Note to self: you can't drink 70% alcohol and remain sober - however hard you try!

To add to the public humiliation of the volunteers we've all had traditional African dresses made. To be technical they're actually a skirt and top and we have to wear them to all the traditional meetings and whenever we go to church - Jews are barely acknowledged over here - in fact few people know what one is - it's very weird not to exist somewhere. The dresses look very fetching and I'll post some pics to give you a good laugh as soon as I find a USB port that works.

However, the shock news of the week has been that two of the volunteers have to go to Bawdia, a village in the Western region, for the whole six months rather than two staying here for three months and then switching with the other two.
Having thrown a few strops, pouted, demanded I need to be by the sea for health/suntan reasons, we have decided to pull names out of a hat. The results will be posted here after the weekend.

Both projects will be very worth while to work on but frankly if I'm doing charity work I'd like to do it somewhere I can go shopping, lie on the beach and get to the internet without having to travel for a day there and back. Well, not really but it would be nice to have a few fringe benefits while I'm here saving the whole of Africa single handed.

Actually everyone wants to stay here because we're all settled and the house we're staying in is very friendly. But we're all prepared to go to Bawdia (the little village too) as it will have lots of positives to it.

And it will no doubt be good for me to sit on a hill in the middle of nowhere with no phones, no computers and no flushing toilets for six months...

I may need several aid packages sent over consisting of books, Marmite and vital medical supplies.

But you'll all be glad to hear that I've been remarkably healthy. I've only had one bought of diahorrea and that was just a one off. Who'd of thought my stomach could handle Africa?! Although admittedly it's been less than two weeks, but I prefer to err on the side of optimisim.

And for those who care - my suntan is looking lovely!

Village life

2006-01-13T15:06:00.000Z

Life is still pretty great here and my tan is coming on nicely.
(Thanks to everyone who paid money for me to come!)
Just kidding - the hard work kicks in after another seven days.
Then we're teaching from 8.30 - 12 and then building the school buildings from 2-6!
I've got a horrible feeling it's going to be very hard work. And considering the fact I've never taught in my life and as for building - I think I might just have to call my dad!
But I'm sure it will be good for me, character building etc...that's if I don't collapse with exhaustion first. It's so hot all the time. I have a permanent layer of sweat, but so does everyone else, so I'm not too bothered.

It's not really putting off the men either - I've been proposed to loads of times - so there's hope I might find a husband yet! I think I'm going to have to get a ring to wear so I don't get all the questions.

Yesterday we went into Cape Coast centre which is about a 20 minute taxi ride from Kukumbo where we're living. We wandered round the market and bartered with a few shoe sellers.

We get attention everywhere we go but everyone's very polite and don't try and force you into buying stuff.
I'm developing a new addiction for pineapple - you can buy from the stalls that line the streets - it's 7p for a quarter. Fantastic!

Tonight we're meeting the elders of the village for a formal welcome. It's all so surreal that I'm living in an African village but extremely cool.

So if anyone wants to come out for a visit, there's a spare bucket for the shower and you can share my mosquito net.

The internet cafe is only 30 mins from the village so I should be able to update this a couple of times a week. Keep logging in and send me an email with essential gossip.

Some big news...

2006-01-13T15:01:00.000Z

I have a new email address: debbi.marco@googlemail.com
so for those of you who have emailed me since I left the UK, please can you resend it to that address.

But that's not really the big news I was announcing.

I'm going to be an Aunty!! Yes my big sis, Nicola and her husband Damon are going to have a baby!
It's due on 27 July so you can all expect me back in the country around then!

Reality bites...like a malarial mosquito

2006-01-11T12:42:00.000Z

So scrub everything I said about living in paradise - we were transferred to our new lodgings where our two week induction period was to take place.
Kakumno, a little village outside of Cape Coast, is just a short journey away along the red dusty roads. When we arrived we were shown where we were staying - three of us in one room that looked like a squat: it had one double bed with a dirty sheet on an even dirtier mattress. The single pillow was brown with who knows what. And with just a flimsy lock on the door and a lot of scowling men wandering around, I began to have one of those 'what have I done?' feelings.
As we walked to meet the people running the project, we stepped over the open sewers, which are everywhere, and walked past shacks built out of the dusty red clay. Dirty faced children with big smiles were thrilled to see us, and shouted out hello and grabbed our hands as we picked our way through the chickens and drains.
It was all incredibly overwhelming and I felt very far from Tooting.
But an inspirational chat from the project managers made me feel very humbled and I soon decided to shut up and get on with things - although I was still slightly scared.
The children performed a dance for us - amusingly to Missy Elliot singing about 'Bitches' and the like. They gave us a tour of the village and the classrooms they were building which we would help with. We saw the well they'd built from scratch last year. What they had achieved was incredible.
By the time our meeting had ended Charles and Joseph had decided that our dwellings were too disgusting by anyone's standards and we were transferred to a lovely house in the village. If feels like a palace incomparison - never thought I'd say that sharing a lumpy double bed and showering with a bucket and cold water - but strangely I'm loving it.
Everything's very simple here. We get woken up by our cockeral at 5.30 every morning, jump into our bucket and then off to our Fante lessons - which is the local dialect.
As everything is tonal (it's how you say things not what you say) I've a big feeling I'm totally screwed. I'm so tone deaf it's awful - luckily most people speak English but I'm still going to give it a go!

Stomach update:
Absolutely fine - hah I laugh in the face of dysentry!
(How much am I going to regret writing that?!)

My email is still not working - but thanks if you've sent me an email.
My phone number which will receive calls and texts is (whatever the Ghana code is)
0242844804
Feel free to text or call and I will email as soon as I can.

I'm Alive!

2006-01-08T12:25:00.000Z

1 spider
4 poos
1 puke

It was a slightly arduous flight over - a change at Milan where we picked up the essential Gucci accessories then to Lagos were we sat on the runway for two hours sweating in our seats before arriving in Ghana to sweat some more.
Luckily me and my new best friends Caroline, Lucie and Matt all had a love in and decided we were all great and that the next six months are going to be fantastic.
We were met at the airport by Charles and Joseph - our guides for the next fortnight, which is basically our holiday period before the hard work begins.

We stayed in a hotel with air conditioning and showers -wahey.
The next day we went to change some money - I cleverly didn't bring any cash with me (what no ATM's?!) but managed to beg and borrow some off Caroline and found a 20 pound note. But as the exchange rate is 16,000 cedis to the pound - I had a fat wodge of cash which made me feel rich at least. Am already struggling with the zeros I have to deal with on a daily basis - it's like a crash course in maths.

But on to Ghana... It's fantastic - very hot but once you've started sweating you just give in to it and it's okay. Driving through the streets is hilarious. It's like a drive-thru supermarket. People are trying to sell you anything they can through the car window - dried plantain chips, clocks, clothes, water...all of which they're balancing on their heads in huge heavy baskets.
The streets are lined with goats (Jenny I still haven't found the one you bought me for Xmas but I'm still looking!)and chickens - the true meaning of free range food!

As for what we've done, we've just been very touristy - we went to the Kwame Nkrumah memorial park - he was the first president of Ghana for those of you who haven't brushed up on your history.
Then to Cape Coast Castle where they kept the slaves for the trans-atlantic slavery - it was very interesting and obviously stoked my anti-racist views even more. We stood in a cell where there were scratch marks on the walls as the dying slave had slowly gone mad.
Good old colonialists - nothing like a bit of slavey to add some cash to the coffers.
We've also been to the beach - palm tree lined, clean and empty with a beach bar...it's hard this volunteering but someone's got to do it.

The food is fantastic too - Red Red is my favourite dish - spicy beans and fried plaintain (looks a bit like a banana but doesn't taste the same).

Whereever we go all the kids wave and say hello - it's very sweet but I can imagine I'll be changing my tune after six months.

And what you really want to know - my stomach update:
Disappointingly I think I was actually constipated for the first day but that's slowly changing. I managed to make myself sick on my malaria tablet though which was very exciting - am still feeling a bit shaky from that. But it felt quite comforting to be in a familiar position - head over the toilet!

My email is playing up so I might change my address but I'll keep you all updated.
Hope all is well in good old Blighty - I would say I was missing it but frankly there's nowhere I'd rather be than here.

I think updates will be weekly or fortnightly but I do have phone - I'll post my number as soon as I know so you can text and call - there is no time difference.

Big love to you all!
xxx

even more pics...

2005-11-28T15:07:00.000Z

More party pics

2005-11-28T14:23:00.000Z

Party Pics

2005-11-28T14:11:00.000Z

A massive thank you to everyone who made my party on Saturday night.
I hope you all had as much fun as I think I did - the memory's a little bit shaky.
It raised £300 - so thanks for stumping up the cash!

Ghana on my mind

2005-10-23T16:37:00.000Z

Hello family and friends!
Welcome to my blog. I've carved out this little corner of the world wide web to be a place where you can visit me even when I'm thousands of miles away in Ghana.
I don't know what it's going to be like out there but hopefully this this will be one way of staying in touch.
But don't panic - I'm not off until 5th January 2006.

And before I go there's the little matter of me raising some cash.
So far the grand fundraising total is £370 - so I'm actually only £3000 short of my total!
Slightly less than I'd hoped for so if anyone has any fundraising ideas/ spare change down the back of their sofa - please let me know.

And don't forget to come to my party on 26 November:
The Prince Arthur pub
82 Eversholt Street
7.30 til late

It's £7 to get in - but worth every penny!
(If you're feeling adventurous come jungle themed)

see you all there