Wrap Up

I've been putting this off majorly, seeing how long I've not been in Ghana at this point, but now it's time for me to finally give this blog a proper sendoff.

My experiences working with CRS and OIC allowed me a glimpse of the efforts going into micro-development. Working from the bottom up in terms of empowering people to improve their lives is crucial. You always hear of countries shelling out billions of dollars in aid to developing countries, but you don't really hear what happens after that. Recently, the responsibility of developing rural communities has transferred from governments to local NGOs. I think this is a good strategy, since the locals have the advantage of knowing the customs of the people they're helping.

One of the most important things I learned about development efforts was the concept of helping people help themselves. It wasn't about drastically changing people's way of life, but integrating new methods and skills into their daily routines. So when village women are taught how to process their rice better, an activity in which they already participate, they are able to sell it at a higher price, which improves their standard of living as well as maintaining their way of life.

On the flip side, I'm now curious about the macro aspect of development--the bigger picture, to put it in other words. What policies can be enacted to effect a real, sustainable change in the economy of Ghana, and other developing countries? These are questions I'm excited to continue exploring at school and *gasp!* maybe even grad school?

Going to Ghana by myself was a big step for me. Not only do I feel this sense of freedom and liberation, but now there's this itch to travel and see more of the world. I also hope to make my visits to Ghana more frequent so that it can truly feel like my second home. This trip has made me realize how big my world is. To think that the world, my world, extends beyond the bubble in which I've enclosed myself for so long boggles my mind, yet fills me with an incredible sense of warmth.

Thanks for reading. I hope it was as fun reading as it was to write this. This summer was chock-full of truth and mangoes, the latter, of course, being tastier.

Final Week

My last week in Ghana was spent in Accra. I spent so much time in Tamale, and just northern Ghana in general, that going back down to the south was a pleasant shock. Since most of the population is concentrated in the southern part of the country, it makes sense that it's more developed, with better infrastructure, buildings, and all. When I arrived in Accra, I almost felt like I was back home in America because everything just felt so...modern. Now, I'm not trying to hate on the north. I can't, that's where I'm from. Buuuuuut, let's just say I enjoyed myself in Accra. A lot.

I went to Elmina, a 2-hour drive from Accra (not factoring in the ever-present traffic), to tour Elmina Castle, the oldest European building in sub-Saharan Africa. It was sobering to see the small chambers that held more than a hundred slaves. What struck me the most was visiting the "Room of No Return."

The slaves had to squeeze through this tiny gate to board the slave ship, the last time most of them would ever set foot on African soil. It was bittersweet that we, tourists, could return.

During our tour, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful the area was, what with the palm trees and crystal-clear blue sea. It's so jarring that a place that evokes feelings of pain and sadness could be set against such a beautiful backdrop.

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For my final week I took it easy: I went to the beach, saw some friends from school, took a tro tro (a public minibus) for the first, and hopefully last, time. I was a bit wary of taking a tro tro because it's the drivers of said vehicles that scare me into believing that I can never drive in Ghana. While it wasn't as bad as I anticipated, let's just say that I prefer taking taxis.

I couldn't help but notice the extensive construction of new roads and new buildings. It's because of this rapid development that Accra seems to change drastically every time I visit.



This is the Africa you don't see. My final thoughts coming soon.

Nandom = Home

Please pardon my 3-week silence. It wasn't for lack of activity nor laziness. I somehow survived this long without Internet access. I'm surprised I'm stayed sane for that long. So though I'm back home, trying to re-accustom myself to quiet suburban life, I'll write about my adventures during my absence.

I spent July 18th - July 21st in Nandom, my parents’ hometown. It’s a small town in the Upper West region, close to Burkina Faso border, aka the middle of nowhere. There’s really nothing to do there but drink pito, a kind of beer that they brew here, and sleep.

Ok, maybe I’m being a little too harsh. After all, when my parents talk about home, they’re talking about Nandom. This is where it all started. This is where my family comes from. Both of my grandmothers still live here: my mom’s mom in town, where I stayed, and my dad’s mom in the village.

This is on the way to the Nakaar house. It was a joke that any woman who married into the Nakaar family would have to know how to swim because the path to the house would flood and become a river whenever it rained.

I visited my makum, my dad's mother, who’s 88, give or take a few years. She doesn't speak English, but for some reason she likes the phrase "very good," which she pronounces "velygoo." It was cute. In addition to giving her medicine I brought, I gave her a shirt with "Yale Grandma" on it. I hardly get chances to give my relatives cheesy gifts like this, so I couldn't resist doing so when the opportunity presented itself.

Even though my parents speak Dagaare, the language they speak in this area, I was raised speaking only English, a fact that completely baffles people here, my relatives included. My understanding is limited to words like “come” “move” and “have you eaten?” Some local girls who called me "Sista Ruth," were eager to give me Dagaare lessons, so I picked up a few more words. I’m happy to say that while I’m still far away from being fluent, I know more than when I came here.

My uncle bought me a guinea fowl and a cock as a parting gift. I wasn’t around for the actual slaughter, but I could hear their dying squawks of agony. It was pretty gruesome but if it’s any consolation, they were REALLY good, after being cooked of course.

So however boring I may find Nandom, I've come to realize that it's important for me to return here, because if I can't call any other place home, I can call this place--where there's nothing to do but drink pito and sleep--home.

How to Get Nice Rice

OIC conducts workshops to train women on how to add more value to what they produce. Monday was the first day of 3 day OIC's rice processing intervention in Dawunipe and Bagpe, two communities in Central Gonja.

The local rice that these women currently process sells for less than the rice processed in other communities, like Navrongo in the Upper East. This OIC intervention aims to teach these women how to process their rice better so that they can sell it at a higher price. That's why OIC hired 2 women from Navrongo to teach these women their methods.

The way the local women currently process their rice is to boil and dry the grains in the hot sun, resulting in less than ideal rice. I learned that to get good rice, one has to thoroughly wash the grains, steam them, and then dry them gradually in a shady place.



On Wednesday, after the rice went through the mill, we delivered the finished product to the communities. If you look closely, you can see the huge difference between the previously processed rice and the rice processed with the new and improved method.


Oh, and a woman offered me a spot in her house as her husband's second wife. Thanks!..but no thanks. Proposals of marriage are so common here that you learn to think nothing of it.

I made friends with the village kids, rather they made friends with my camera. They got so excited and cheered whenever I showed them the picture of themselves on the screen.


Next time you're in a village where you can't speak the language, just pull out your camera and you've got yourself instant friends.

SO. MANY. SHEEP.

Apologies for the long gap between posts. No, I didn't sink into a depression after Ghana was eliminated from the World Cup after being soooooooo close, though it was pretty sad those first couple of days. I lost access to the Internet for a bit, but thankfully it's back. For now, at least.

Last Wednesday I went out to the field with the organization OIC Ghana. OIC stands for Opportunities Industrialization Centers, and it was founded by an African-American minister in Philadelphia to train people for various vocations. The OIC program based in Tamale focuses on the 4 components of agriculture, water and sanitation, maternal and child health nutrition, and microenterprise development.

Part of the microenterprise facet includes the distribution of sheep and goats. OIC Ghana is solely funded by USAID (United States Agency for International Development), and uses the money to buy the animals. As you can see in the picture, there were SO. MANY. SHEEP.

This picture doesn't even capture the constant bleating of the approximate 200 sheep kept in the pen. It took a good hour for the men to rope up and load the very unwilling sheep onto the trucks to deliver to the lucky women of the Langantire community in West Gonja, about a hour and a half drive from Tamale. The sheep arrived before we did, waiting impatiently in groups of 5. Before simply handing over the sheep just like that, proper documentation had to be done. The women had to provide their thumbprint as a signature. Their husbands also had to be present to stand as witnesses.


Numbered sheets of paper were given out to the community kids, and they stood by each group of sheep.


To ensure fairness, the process of giving out sheep was based on a ballot system. That way no woman had any unfair advantages over one another.



I watched the women walk home with their new assets, happy for them, yet not really understanding how rearing sheep is considered an income-generating activity. Aren't they only useful for their wool and meat? It was only later that I found out just how lucrative sheep could be. From May through August, there is no harvest, meaning no food. The task of finding food for the family is transferred from the man, who farms, to the woman. I thought you could just kill one of your sheep for its meat, but what would you eat it with? In communities such as these, meat isn't consumed often and is more of a luxury. Instead it's much more profitable to spare them and use the money to buy maize flour, and even pay hospital bills and school fees. Better yet, when the sheep produces offspring, you give the kids to another family so that they can raise their own sheep. This is known as "passing on the gift," which not only repeats the cycle, but also fosters unity in the community.


Wow. Who knew sheep could be so useful? Hats off to you, sheep of the world.

Ghana v. USA: A Tale of Two Homelands

1 vuvuzela: 10 Ghana Cedis
1 Ghana flag: 12 Ghana Cedis
Watching Ghana knock the USA out of the World Cup and advance to the quarterfinals: PRICELESS

I can’t even begin to describe what happened last night. It’s a new feeling for me, being so incredibly proud of one’s country simply because of a sport.

It was bittersweet, though. I’m a proud American (I stood up for the national anthem) and felt bad that the U.S. lost, especially after they exceeded the world’s expectations by reaching the Round of 16.

But!

I’m also a proud Ghanaian and my elation over Ghana’s victory far outweighed my sadness for the USA’s loss. And because I felt that a win for Ghana would mean so much more for this small nation than the USA, which is dominant in practically everything, I was rooting for the Black Stars.

The atmosphere in the hours leading up to the match was tense. I watched in confusion as my cousin lay moping around, hardly talking and refusing to eat. I learned that it was a sort of “pre-match meditation.” I admit, I was nervous for Ghana and doubtful of their performance in the World Cup so far, especially since the 2 goals they’d scored so far were from penalties. Still, I was ready to cheer on Ghana with my flag and vuvuzela at hand. It wasn’t long—5 minutes to be exact—before the room we all gathered to watch the match in exploded with the sound of cheers and vuvuzelas.

I was pretty relaxed and only hoped that Ghana could hold on to their lead, up until the U.S. scored in the 2nd half. I’ve never been so stressed watching a soccer match before. Those 30 minutes of extra time seemed so long. But I cheered and romped with everyone else when we scored our second goal, which ultimately won us the match and allowed us to knock the U.S. out of the tournament for the second time in a row.

Almost immediately after, about ten of us crammed into the Land Cruiser--flags, vuvuzelas, and all--and my uncle drove us into town to celebrate.

Now,“celebrate” is a vague term. I expected to go to a bar or something for some victory drinks and call it a night. Little naïve me from the suburbs was not prepared for all that took place on the city streets of Tamale under the full moon last night.

“Riot” is the only word that comes close enough to what I witnessed. Only it wasn’t violent.
Crowds of people were dancing to the beats of loud drums I couldn’t see, motorbikes were weaving in and out of traffic doing wheelies, and the red, yellow, green, and black colors of the Ghanaian flag seemed to be everywhere. I’m still trying to get used to the wild driving here already, what with the scarcity of traffic lights and overtaking being the norm, but to be honest, I was a LITTLE scared that we would get into an accident. I asked my uncle if these people were drunk. He replied, “Drunk with joy!” If this is what people are like after watching their country win a match, I’d like to see them after a couple of drinks…

Regardless of whether or not Ghana advances any further (though I hope they do!) nothing could replace Saturday night. I’m proud of Ghana.

Unfortunately my camera battery died (it couldn't handle all the excitement) before we reached the really wild part of town, but this is what I managed to capture.

Bolga: Days 3 + 4

Let me take a moment to congratulate the Black Stars on qualifying for Round of 16! Although we lost the match against Germany, we're still in! And of course, all of Ghana is celebrating. With all this soccer, I do miss watching Wimbledon (the Isner v. Mahut match is the longest match ever, with 100+ games, and it's not even finished yet!)

Okay, enough of sports.

All of yesterday and today, data collectors conducted the baseline surveys in various communities in the Talensi-Nabdam and Kassena-Nankana Districts. Each district speaks different languages, so data collectors had to be able to speak the language of those in the communities in order to accurately complete the questionnaires.



Yesterday was also market day in the area, so I saw lots of men, women, and children alike on the roadside with empty baskets on their heads, walking, driving carts pulled by donkeys, or riding bikes and motorbikes.


I tried the shea fruit for the first time today in the Kotintabig community. I was a little skeptical because honestly, they smelled horrible. Since everyone was saying that it was sweet and kept urging me on, I relented. How could I turn down sweetness? I was disappointed. It didn't taste as sweet as I expected, tasting kind of salty instead. But I can't hate it when the seeds are used to make the shea butter that my hair so dearly loves.



Needless to say, I still prefer mangoes by a loooooooongshot.

The community had given guinea fowl eggs to the data collectors, who then generously gave them to me. They're supposed to taste much better than chicken eggs. Can't wait to eat them!

I'm heading back to Tamale tomorrow. Though these past few days in Bolga were busy and tiring, it was worth going out into the communities and seeing exactly what organizations like CRS are doing on the ground and seeing such projects in action. I only hope I get more opportunities like these in the future.