Auntie Rose's Ice Cream

My home stay Mom owns a “store” of sorts. It is about the size of Red’s Eats (for those of you in the know), or about 12x8. She sells a variety of items including sandals (otherwise known as Charlie’s), women shoes, candy, water, food items, laundry soap and ice cream. Her original goal when she started her business was to make $1 Ghana Cedi per day. (This would be equivalent to about .70 cents US). She has met her goal and has asked me to help her with a new vision for the store. 

There are a couple of different brands of ice cream she sells.  I use the word “ice cream” very loosely. It is more like frozen ice. Since I’ve been in Ghana, I have not seen milk, let alone cream. Plus, most places do not have freezers, or, for that matter, electricity. My Mom has no power at the store, but has a freezer at the house and brings  the goods to her shop frozen. The ice cream is in bags, (stay tuned for a blog on “Life in a bag”), similar to popsicles. There is a generic brand, that basically tastes like flavored sugar water. The flavors include cola, pineapple and cocoa and this sells for .10 pesawa (cents). The top of the line is called Fan Ice and that has three flavors; strawberry yogurt- it actually tastes like that, vanilla- tastes like frozen frosting and chocolate, which I think is pretty tasty. Fan Ice sells for .40 pesawa. 

My Mom also makes her own ice cream. She makes it with powdered milk, flour, nutmeg, sugar, vanilla and other things. I can’t tell you everything in it, otherwise I would have to kill you. Because she uses powdered milk, it is more creamy than the other brands. It is far better than the generic one and as good as the Fan Ice, tasting more like frozen pudding.  She only had one flavor, vanilla and was selling it for .05-10 pesawa. I asked her how she came up with the price and she told me that she thought is should be the same as the generic. When I asked her how much it cost her to make it, she had no idea. Welcome to Ghana....

I helped her with an inventory list, figured out the pricing and found that it cost her about .08 pesawa to make. She usually makes one batch a week, on Sundays, and sells out by Tuesday or Wednesday. I encouraged her to increase the price to .15 mainly due to the fact it is so much tastier than the generic, but we also knew that she could not sell it for much more than that. She decided that she would do 2 sizes, one for .10 and the other for .15 and she is still selling out. 

I asked her why she does not make more than one batch a week, and she said that she did not have time, it takes about 3 hours, and she is busy at her store during the week. So, I did the math with her; we figured out that doing one batch, she is making $12 Ghana Cedi, that is profit!!!!! I asked her how long would she have to work at the store to make that kind of profit. It was then we had a “Peace Corps Moment”. A light went on inside her head, she smiled and said that she will make another batch mid week, opening the store a little later one day. It was great! She figured it out by herself, I didn’t have to tell her, I just merely showed her the dots and she connected them. 

I also thought back to when I used to make vanilla pudding when I was a kid, and how my Mom would add some coffee to it to make coffee pudding. Since there is only instant coffee here available and, a bunch of white folks in the village for a few weeks, I suggested we make some coffee ice cream. It is a big hit, and we are selling it for .20 pesawa. She is now thinking about making her own pineapple flavor as well and, selling it to someone else in another town. 

I am so proud of my Mom, she has a great business mind and open to learning. She is a far cry from her original goal of making $1 per day. I hope that my work in Wenchi will be as successful as “Auntie Rose’s Ice Cream”.

To Kill A Rooster

Move over, Harper Lee, Mocking Birds have nothing on Roosters. Instead of Mr. Lee, my book would be more like a Stephen King novel. “The cold sharp steel edge of an axe makes a dull thud as it separates  the head from the body of the accused rooster....” Yes,  I think that is how I would start it. After many nights awake, staring up my ceiling thinking of ways to kill my fowl feather fiend, I have decided to write a quick blog on the experience. 

I usually am in bed by 9:30 and wake up around 6:00 am. I have read other blogs that have talked about the noise in Ghana. It is not trains rattling on the tracks towards their destination, or the angry sounds of taxi horns, or the high shrill of sirens. No, it’s the sound of sheep and goats bleating all night keeping them awake until all hours of the night. I considered myself lucky that my room is on the second story in the front of the house, away from the four legged animals. I have instead a demented, possessed rooster, whose only goal in life that I can see is to keep me from sleeping. 

I can remember back in the States watching a commercial for a sleeping pill, where a rooster is perched on the  window sill, as the early morning sun makes its way up the sky, crowing and keeping the poor lady in bed awake. Well, the thought that the rooster only crows at the crack of dawn it a terrible myth, at least here in Ghana. This loud, obnoxious creature from Hell, crows whenever he damn well feels like it. 

He starts about 1:30  in the morning, just when I am getting into my deep REM sleep. He crows once, waits, and listens for a response. If there is no response,  he tries again 15 minutes later. Please allow me to describe the noise this wretched wraith makes. If he where a singer, he would be one of those singers that just screams the whole time. You can’t understand the words, you can only feel the pent up rage and anger the singer is conveying. Compared to him, a regular rooster would be Barry Manalow, or Mister Rogers. My rooster makes this unearthly scream for prolonged periods of time, and confirms to me that he is not from this world but from the deepest darkest pit of Hell. 

He will do this three times, and, when no other rooster responds, he will wait and hour and do the whole process all over again. Usually by 3:30, he strikes pay dirt, and some other rooster will respond. At that time in the morning, voices travel quite a distance, and from somewhere down the street, I hear a faint cock-a-doodle-doo. That is all he needs. It’s like a person drinking 20 large extra bold Dunkin’ Donuts Coffees. He explodes into a series of crowing, screaming and hacking that continues for the next 2 1/2 hours. 

Now, I consider myself a fairly easy going person, even keeled, and there is not much that gets under my skin. But, lying awake at 3:45, or 4:20, listening to this has tested my patience. Yes, I have my ear plugs in. Yes, the pillow is over my head. Yes and am drugged with Tylenol PM. All to no avail. I don’t think there is a way that I have not thought of on how this dreadful bird could die a long and painful death. I have developed an unhealthy taste for chicken. Every time I am served chicken at home I think, “Could this be Him??” I bite down hard, chew with extra vigor, shredding the flesh with my teeth. But, alas, the next morning the cycle starts all over again...

An Evening with The Big Man

We all knew that Obama was coming to Accra but, we did not think that it was going to be possible to see him. Then, the day we got home from our field trip, it was announced that we were invited to say farewell to Mr. and Mrs. President at the airport. All we were told was that he would be giving a half hour speech before he boarded Air Force One to head home. I was thinking that we might get a glimpse of him with several thousand people looking on. We planned to leave early in the morning, meet at the Embassy, and then get a ride to the airport. Obama was scheduled to speak at 5:45 and we were supposed to be at the airport at 2:30. It was a long trip to the Embassy  and I was surprized that we got there on time. There were road blocks but not anything too bad. Arriving at the Embassy, we boarded real buses; we were in the lap of luxury. Real seats, that reclined, AC and even a movie. Yes, a movie; on the Embassy Bus we watched Sheena the Jungle Woman. I am not sure when (or why for that matter) this movie came out, but  it had to be one of the worst movie ever produced. Sheena was a girl Tarzan, who could speak telepathy to animals, ride a zebra like no tomorrow and wear the tiniest outfits with out falling out; big talent!!!

We left the bus, and joined the mass of people walking towards the Airport. There were more white folks than I have seen since I’ve been here. The atmosphere was quite festive; there was a parade of Ghanians waving American and Ghanian flags, singing an Obama tune, dancing and playing bongos. There were hundreds of people in line all waiting for a chance to see Obama. We got through the gates, security and were directed by the Secret Service on where to go. We showed them our passes in, and at every check point the crowds got fewer and fewer. As we walked onto the tarmac, I was amazed that we, the Peace Corps Volunteers, had front row access. I was less then 50 feet from the podium. It was magical, the sun was setting, turning the clouds alive with color, and in the back ground was Air Force One. Obama came flying in on a helicopter landed and walked up to the podium with the President of Ghana. After thanking and and welcoming everyone, he looked at us, and welcomed the Peace Corps personally. In his speech he mentioned the Peace Corps three times. We were all pretty pumped. After it he was done, he and Michelle came down and shook hands with us. I got to shake Michelle’s hand. As they boarded the plane to leave, we were all flying high. I was honored to be there and am proud to be serving my country. 

Danger, No Danger!!!

This week we went on a field trip. The purpose was to visit some businesses similar to the ones we will be going to. We left on Saturday and came home on Wednesday. It was the 12 of us SED people, and 4 trainers. We were fortunate to use the large van that the PC owns, as well as our own driver. We took off early Saturday morning, while Ghanians were preparing for their funerals. Yes, funerals. Every first Saturday of the month is when they have funerals for the folks who died the past month. I will not go into  all the details here, trust me, that will be a blog all unto itself! But, suffice it to say that Ghanians take their funerals very seriously, and every village we went through was gearing up. 

Our first stop on the trip was a village known for their bead making. It is in the Volta region, and quite a beautiful area. The rolling hills and the lush green grass were a delight to my eyes. Some of the villages were quite small, with mud huts and thatched roofs, while others were small towns. When we arrived, we stopped at an NGO (Non Government Organization) called Global Mama’s. It was started by two former PCV who had a burden of helping women get better pay for their work. It is quite a successful organization selling their product in Ghana as well as in the States. 

We went to see how the beads were made. The women collected bottles from where ever they could get them, and then ground them down into powder. Then, they would put this powder into molds that they made, put a piece of stick in the middle to serve as the hole in the bead, and then melt the powder in an oven that looks like a homemade pizza oven. They would leave the mold in there until the glass melted and burned the stick away, and then they would let it cool. After popping the beads out of the mold, they would then smooth them, and paint them. There is a local market in town where they would sell these beads, and from there people would make jewelry from them. It is an amazing process and you could buy two bracelets of beads for $1 Ghana CD, which is about .80 cents. Ghanian folk do not factor in time as part of their labor, just materials. With the help of Global Mama’s, hopefully the women will get better prices for their efforts. 

We then drove to a Kente Village. Kente cloth is a hand woven cloth that is very colorful and very labor intensive. We arrived in the middle of an incredible thunderstorm.   Right before we got there I looked over in the woods and saw what looked like a bright light of a street light. But, considering that we were on a small dirt road heading into a village of 500 people, with no running water and intermittent electricity, I did a double take and realized that lighting had just hit a large tree and the tree was still glowing from the charge of the bolt. It was pretty awesome, to say the least. 

The villagers had all come out to meet us, but due to the rain, most of them had left. We had a short meeting with the chief and some important villagers, then took a quick tour of where they made this cloth. The looms are laid out where someone sits and uses their hands and feet to weave beautiful patterns into a fabric that is about 3 inches wide. From there, they attach the strips together to make one large piece of fabric. Again, like the beads, the amount of time and effort that goes into this art is incredible and they barley get paid for it. I hope to show some pictures of the fabric at some point if I can ever find an internet cafe that has a decent connection. 

It was getting late and we needed to get to the place where we were going to spend the night. We were told that the place we would be spending the next two nights was a place called Mountain Paradise. Having been in Ghana for a little over a month, I was a little concerned of what their definition of “paradise” is.  They told us that they would meet us at the bottom of this mountain because the road was too steep. Well, I guess our driver either didn’t get those instructions or thought he could make it ourselves. Now, I know that I have tried to describe “roads” to you before, but.... this one has raised the standard. A logging road would be a four lane highway compared to this one. It was more like a path, that had gotten washed away with all the rain we just got. I will never know how we did not tip over. As we were clutching onto our seats, getting thrown to and fro, we rounded a corner, and there in the middle of the road, was a bigger truck than us, stuck in a rut. We stopped and some of us got out to take a look at the situation. It looked like he was stuck on the passenger side of the vehicle both the front and the back. For some reason he kept trying to go forward instead of backwards. We suggested that he try backing out and then move forward. He agreed and started up the big engine. As he did so, I was standing right next to where a regular exhaust would be but, there is nothing regular about Ghana. As the engine fired, a huge thick black cloud of smoked enveloped me; I am sure I lost ten years of my life as I scrambled out of the way. He was finally able to get out of the rut, and was headed straight toward our bus. After from choice words from our bus driver, the truck managed to get in gear and slowly head up the mountain. 

We all got back into the bus and continued our way up the steep incline to the top of the mountain. The view was incredible, the place was by itself on a ridge overlooking a beautiful valley of lush tropical forests. I was amazed at not only the location, but also the place itself. There was a large lodge, and a beautiful tiki bar that was perched right on the edge of the mountain, with a 360 degree view of the landscape. We were welcomed by Tony, the owner, who was very friendly and gracious. That night we had a bon fire and learned to play bongos under the stars.

The next morning we decided we would go for a hike to see a local waterfall. A man named Believer was our guide and though he was a very good guide, he did not speak English other than a few words. The waterfall was down this steep ravine and at one point we had to repel with ropes down a rocky section. Whenever we came to a tricky part in the trail, Believer would say “Danger”, then “No Danger” when we were back to safety. After a nice refreshing swim we headed back up the trail. The sun was hot and the trail was pretty steep; when, all of a sudden Believer, came running back from the front shouting “Danger!!! Run, Danger!!” I was in the back of the pack and as the group ahead started running, I heard shouts of pain and cursing coming from the group. In the trail. and for about 30 feet or more on the trail was a swarm of army ants. As we ran through them, several of us got bit by these nasty creatures, sending an electric shock up our legs. By the time we all made it through, we had welts and one ant even drew blood on my ankle. Awhile later we saw the welcoming porch of the lodge and had a nice rest, nursing our bites and enjoying some cold water. 

The day was a great day; we were all relaxed not having anything on the agenda for the day. As we were sitting there on the porch listening to the birds in the valley below, I realized  that I could in a small way relate to the life of a big celebrity. For the first time since we have been in Ghana, we were alone with no one but us “Ebronies” (white folk). This was the first time that we were not gawked at, pointed at, yelled at, laughed at. It was a chance to relax, let our guard down and just be ourselves.  It was a time that we all needed; a chance to recharge our batteries. 

The next day we hit the trail again, visiting some more businesses and farms. We got home in the afternoon, back to our village with our families happy to have us back home. It was a fantastic field trip! 

A Day In the Life of Kwambi

Now that I am settled for 8 weeks, I thought I would share with you what my day looks like. First, let me start with our group that came over from the US. We started with 67 volunteers, and now we are down to 63. Not too bad of drop out rate considering the vast variety of ages. Three of the folks that ET’d (Early Terminate) where in their 20’s and one in her late 50’s, I think. We are divided into two basic groups; education and omnibus. Education includes Math, Science, Visual Arts and Tech. Omnibus includes WATSAN (water and sanitation), SED (Small Enterprise Development, and Environment and Health. Because we are such a large group, they have split us into different villages, where, for the next several weeks, we will be learning language, culture, and aspects concerning what we will be doing over the next two years. 

Imagine a circle.  There are four different villages around the perimeter of the circle and one in the center. It can take anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour to get to any of these villages. We live in the village by the sector we belong to; I live in Masse, with the other SED volunteers. However, we will go to many different area’s in Ghana when we graduate from training. There are about 70 different languages in the country and we have 6 or 7 different language classes collectively. I have been very fortunate- the area will I am going speaks Twi, which is what I’ve been learning before I even arrived in Ghana. Twi is the national language and spoken in much of southern Ghana. I am also fortunate that the language class for Twi just happens to be in Masse, so I do not need to travel to get to any of my class. Some of my friends however, have to drive an hour to language class, then more time to their other classes before returning home. Keep in mind the condition of the roads and taxis (see my earlier journal entry), they have a very long day. 

As I said, I live in Masse and Masse is in the center of that circle I talked about. It is a very nice village, probably with 2,000 residents. There is a downtown with small shops, and a market, 2 or 3 schools, and a gazillion churches. It’s a very close knit community, I feel very safe here. There is power, and water is readily available in bore holes and wells. I live on the outskirts of town on the main road. My family consists of my Mother; Auntie Rose, my Father; Adjei, and two of their grandchildren (my brother and sister) ages 16 and 15. My father is 73 and is semiretired. He works as an Managing Director in the electrical business in Accra for the last 50 years. When he worked full time there, he would travel to Accra and spend the week there, returning Friday night. He is very nice, speaks some English and although he is friendly, he tends to keep to himself. My Mother is a hot ticket. She is a strong, very hard working woman with a heart of gold. We laugh a lot together. No, let me rephrase that. She laughs at me, as do most Ghanians. Everything I do is funny to them. They way I talk, do laundry, the clothes I wear, it’s all new to them and they laugh a lot. It’s OK ‘cause I laugh at myself as well, I have to!

Before daylight, the roosters start crowing. Everything you’ve heard about the rooster starting to crow at dawn is hogwash. Around 3:30 or 4 am one will crow. And once one starts, they all start. I wear earplugs but it does not help much. by 4:30, my family starts to wake up. They start the day by sweeping.... the yard. Yes, the yard. They do not have grass, it is just dirt, and they want to make sure that their dirt is um, well tidy dirt. Then they start a fire, and do a whole bunch of other things that include banging, pounding and all around general noise making. So by 5:45 I lay in bed and plan my day. I usually get up, go pee in my INSIDE LATRINE (oh yeah baby!!! I have an inside latrine. Most people have an outside one, sometimes several yards away. I am living high on the hog.) I then take a nice refreshing bucket bath, sweep out the water out and get dressed. 

I come downstairs and greet my family. “Maache, Kwami!”, they say. My name here is Kwami, which means I was born on Saturday. Everyone here has a name signifying the day they were born; ie, Kaffi is Friday. Eating here is very different than the US. First of all, I am left handed, but here you can not eat with your left hand, it is considered unclean. You use you left hand to go to the bathroom. You don’t ever hand anyone something with your left hand, it is considered an insult. So, I am learning to eat with my right hand. Actually it isn’t too bad to learn, because most of the time I don’t use silverware. Most of the time you eat with your hands. Another cultural difference is that you don’t usually eat as a family. The man will eat at the table, the women will eat outside on a bench, and after they have finished the kids will eat the leftovers. So I usually eat alone, although sometimes my mother will sit with me a talk to me as I eat. 

I usually leave for my language classes around 7:30, class starts at 8:00. I try not to speak any English on my way to school, just Twi. Greetings are very important here, so just about everyone I meet. Here is a typical conversation:

Me: Maache

Them: Yaa,Agya. Wo ho te sen?

Me: Me ho ye, paa. Na wo nso e?

Them: Me so, me ho ye. Woto sen?
Me: Meeko school.

Them: Yoo, akyire yi yebehyia.

Me: Yoo!!

Which means, Good morning! Yes Sir. How are you? I am fine and you? I am fine as well. Where are you going? I go to school. Ahh, we shall meet again. Yes, we will.

Of course they are laughing at me the whole time. They think we all are very funny. And then they ask me more questions, to which I mumble something and just smile. 

There is only three of us in my language class and it usually lasts 2 hours. Then I have a culture course for a couple of hours. I walk back home for lunch, then we have classes from 1 to 5. By then my brain is fried. It is all very interesting and I am learning a lot. We are learning about business, how the government agencies work, and much, much more. 

I usually have dinner around 6. My Mother is a great cook and I have enjoyed all of the meals here. It is quite different foods, lots of starch, but all in all it is quite good. I don’t know when the last food was that had MSG, partially hydrogenated oil, artificial flavorings or anything like that. I can’t say I miss it, although a steak with mushrooms, mashed potatoes with butter, and broccoli would be really good right now. I do miss the fresh veggies, and I am pretty sure the strawberries are ripe back home....  And, I miss milk; we have powdered, real coffee; we have instant, no dairy products. Mmmmm chocolate, or snacks, there is no snacking here. Oh, and cheese....mmmmmm... Ugh, I have to stop. The good news is that there is one kind of beer that is acceptable. It’s called Castle Beer, it’s a dark beer, and pretty tasty. The only problem is that right now I am only getting $2 a day and the beer costs $1.50. Every once in while I will go out to “The Spot”, a small bar, with some other PCT’s and we will have a cold one. 

After dinner, I usually visit with my family for a bit, then go upstairs to read, do home work and I am usually in bed by 9. Pretty exciting, huh? Well, that is the day in the life of Kwami. This Saturday, we go on a field trip for 5 days. We will be visiting sites of other PCV’s and take a look at how businesses run here. I will let you know how that goes when I get back.

I think Chris posted on Face book, where my site is. I will be living in a town call Wenchi, which is a fairly large town, or medium size city. I will be working with cashew farmers. Over one third of the world’s cashews are produced by 14 African countries, one of which is Ghana. Over 90% of these cashews are produced on small farms. The majority of the cashews are shipped raw to India and Vietnam to be processed and then sold to the US and Europe. There is a push to process the nuts here.  I will be working with local cooperatives to market their products. I will also help them get more organized, set better pricing structure and train managers. Peace Corps is big on sustainability. What I mean by that is that we are not here to do projects for the people. We are here more as facilitators, training them to do the work themselves. I am looking forward to checking out my site and getting involved with my work here.

This is a description of the “house” I will be living for the next two years. “Your housing is a single room in a compound house. There is a water closet to share with one family (husband/wife and 2 children), electricity, bed, table and chair. There is pipe borne water available.” Hmmmm...... I wonder what that means. I will give you a better understanding of a typical “house” here in Ghana. Most houses are built in a compound style. So picture a strip hotel, that makes is shaped like a horseshoe. In the middle is a courtyard, usually just concrete. All the doors are facing the courtyard. Usually the doors opens to a square room, maybe 10‘X15’. There could be anywhere from 10 to 15 rooms. This is where the people live. Somewhere in the compound will be a room that t will serve as a kitchen. Another room is the bathing room; it will have a small hole in the wall at the bottom for the water to escape. Somewhere outside the compound will be a latrine. I will dedicate a whole new blog just on the latrine. But, for now just let your imagination take you....some of these latrines are a lot worse than you can imagine. 

It’s the rain season here. Since I’ve arrived, it has rain most every day. It’s been a nice rain though, refreshing and cool. The last two days however have poured. Today is has come down in buckets most of the day. In some areas, all the roads have washed out. My language teacher told me today that he heard on the news that due to the rain the snakes have come out seeking shelter. In one area 5 people have died from snake bites. Nice!

I’ve only been able to get to an internet cafe about three times since I’ve gotten here. It is an extremely frustrating experience. To load my yahoo mail page takes anywhere from 15 to 25 minutes. Most of the time I can not even get to my face book page. I usually write my blog ahead of time then just post it when I get there. It is because of this, I have not been writing to you all individually as much as I would like. I want to thank you all for the kind words of encouragement and support. It is very comforting to know that I have a loving family and friends back home. Once I get to Wenchi, I hope to have better internet service. In the meantime, if anyone would like to write me my temporary address is:

Wayne Tilton PCV

Peace Corps

PO Box 5796

Accra-North

Ghana, West Africa

Oh, I also have a cell phone. It doesn’t cost me anything for you to call, but you will want to check your rates. Chris told me that it is expensive. Someone here though told me that their parents got an African calling card and it’s like 17 cents a minute. I will try to get more information later. Here is my number: 054 237 0021. I think you need to dial 011 then 233, then the number but you want to double check that. Chris knows and she will let you know if you contact her.

On that note, I will leave you. I hope you all are doing well and you are in my thoughts and prayers. Cheers~ Wayne 

Culture

The culture in Ghana is quite different, of course, than the US. Greetings are very important. For example, when you are walking down the street, you not only say hello, but also ask how they are doing as well as their family. To walk past someone without saying hello is rude. Of course the awkward part of this whole thing is that being white and not knowing the language very well. Walking down the street for me can be exhausting. I live with my “parents” in a very nice house that is about a mile from where my classes are. I have to pass a school, the center of town and the market to get to my language class. Hardly anyone here has a vehicle which means everyone walks. So as I walk I bumble my way through the greetings with everyone I meet, and most of the time they ask me more questions and I have no idea what they are saying. Couple this with the fact that I am an “Obroni” (a white person) makes this an interesting walk to class to say the least. As I pass houses, the young children (under 5 years old) run up to me chanting “obroni, obroni” in their musical voices, waving constantly. If I happen to not acknowledge them, they just chant louder and louder. Then the older folks want to shake my hand, ask me where I am coming from, where I am going and if I am from the US. When I tell them I do live in the states, that ask if they know Ashante, their cousin that moved to the States 3 years ago....Needless to say, by the time I get to language class, I have already had a good lesson.

Another interesting and fascinating thing is how open and friendly the children are. In the States, we are taught never to talk with strangers. Here you will see 3 and 4 year old kids walking around by themselves. Older kids will come and walk with you for a bit, asking you how your day is. Even the older teenage boys act different. When I come upon a group of them, at the onset they look the same. Baggy pants, baseball caps, sitting on their bikes, trying to look cool. But, as soon as I say “Mahaa” (Good Afternoon), they break into beautiful smiles and their whole countenance changes. 

The day starts early here and ends late. The family gets up at 4:30 and they start working at 5. The first thing is sweeping the yard. It is all dirt around their yard and every morning they sweep away the debris. Then my Mother will make breakfast for everyone, cleans the house and, when the kids have left for school, she goes to market to sell flavored ice she made the night before. The man goes out to farm this time of year and does not return until dark. Meals take a looooong time to prepare, Even though they have propane stoves, most women choose to cook outside on a fire they make. There are no microwave or TV dinners here. Most meals include a dough like substance. It can be banko, fufu, kenche, ( I know I am not even close to spelling these right). Sometimes this dough is pounded from maize, other times it is nuts that they grind into a paste, or other starch items. All of these are ground, pounded and kneaded into these dough balls, that in themselves take a lot of work. Then they need to make the stew. This includes crushing tomatoes, onions, garlic and other things using a mortar and pedstal. Then they put the stew ingredients into a pot and add some type of meat. Of course there is no running water here so they have to fetch water from the bore hole, which can be quite a distance away. I have seen preteens carry over 10 gallons of water on top of their heads without spilling hardly a drop. Oh, of course they also do laundry by hand, sweep the whole house by hand and bathe using buckets. No luxury here; I am constantly amazed by their strength, stamina and willingness to help.  So the next time you want to complain because your french fries from McDonald’s are cold....think about these women. 

On Transportation

Transportation

I used to be intimidated when I traveled to New York City, mostly due to the traffic. Well, I can safely tell you that NYC has nothing on Accra. Come with me for a ride....

This one particular evening we went to see the US Ambassador of Ghana. He was very gracious to invite us PCT (Peace Corps Trainees) to a evening at his house. It was very nice, an open bar and finger food. He and his wife were very nice and his welcome speech was very heartfelt. He told us that the majority of the Ghana administration can remember the name of the PCV (Peace  Corps Volunteer) that went to their village when they were young. I thought that was pretty cool. 

Now, for the ride home. Picture a two lane highway; sometimes paved, sometimes not. Either way, on these “roads”, there are holes. I would say pot holes but that would be an understatement. These holes will swallow a small car. On the road are people, bikes, motorbikes, small cars, vans, and large buses and trucks. From what I can gather, there is a hierarchy. People yield to bikes, bikes yield to motorbikes, motorbikes yield to small cars, etc. Oh, and these roads do not have pull over lanes, and they get very, very congested. So, back to my story. We are on the way home from the Ambassador’s house. It’s after 8 (it gets dark around 7ish) and they tell us that we should not be out at night. Many vans get robbed at night, so they want to rush us home. As I look ahead of us there is a major traffic jam. We are going north, and it is completely stopped. The traffic headed south is stopped as well. There are vendors and people all in the road; it is completely impassable I think. Well I was wrong. Instead of stopping, our driver decides that we should drive in the opposite lane whenever there is a break, heading directly into traffic. As we were flying down the road I know a head on collision is imminent. At the last minute, our driver swerves onto the opposite sidewalk. Horn blasting, we continue on our way while people are scrambling out of our way. We go through yards, driveways and every other inch of space we can find to continue forward. I is unlike any other thing I  have ever done. I do not know how or why we made this hour long trek without getting killed or shot at. When we safely arrived back to our compound, I think we all kissed the ground. I found out later that because we are Peace Corps, we have special license plates and we can drive however we please.... go figure. 

Bus rides

I went up North to a small village to visit Larry, a PCV who is doing what I will be doing. I spent 3 days with him and I learned a lot about what I will be doing. Larry is a great guy and I was fortunate to have him as my mentor. Actually to get to his site, I spent over 15 hours on a bus, then ended the trip with a canoe ride to cross a river. The first leg of the journey home included a very interesting bus ride. There was a group of folks waiting to get on the bus when we arrived. Most of them were women with babies. To me there seemed like there was going to be plenty of room, there was probably 30 of us. But, the women did not think there would be enough room. When the bus arrived, complete chaos erupted. Instead of waiting for the people to get off the bus, they were bound and determined to get on the bus ( which was full). People were crawling over each other, yelling and screaming, pushing and pulling. I couldn’t believe it, because these were the nicest, sweetest people in the world.... until they want to get on the bus. When I finally got on the bus, there were no seats left, but plenty of standing room, so I thought I would make the best of it and just stand. I was wondering why we were not leaving then I noticed huge bags (like 100 lb. each) of grain, corn, charcoal, and God knows what else being loaded on. Any extra space got swallowed up and now everyone was cramped.  Of course there is nothing to hold on to, and as we took off it was hard to stay on my feet. After about twenty minutes we came to a station and I was thinking “cool people will start to get off and I will have room again.” How naive of me. At least 20 more people got on board, with all their boxes, bags and baskets. I now am sitting/squatting with my back against a very hard metal pan. At my feet, or more accurately on my feet are three Ghanian women, all with babies. You can not imagine how packed this  bus was. Oh, did I mention that the bus doors were broken? They were half closed, and to open them you had to kick/pull/push your way through them. I became very self conscious of myself as everyone was looking at me. Not only was I the only white person on the bus, but I was wearing shorts. Wearing shorts in public is very taboo. I don’t know what I was thinking. Feeling uncomfortable in many ways, I look around and find that most of the women are breast feeding their babies. So here I am feeling very embarrassed about my naked knees, when there are all these boobs bouncing around all over the place. Breasts and not considered sexual here while legs are... Oh well, more cultural things to learn for me... At the end, I made it safe and sound back to training village where I will spend the next 10 weeks, learning all sorts of fun stuff.

Cheers,

Wayne