Saturday 9th October

My friend and colleague’s Joana, lost her father on the 30^th September. His funeral – a traditional affair – was today.

My first problem was knowing when to go – no-one seemed to know when the funeral was, so the consensus with my flatmate was that 10 or 11 would be fine. I arrive around 10.45 – after asking for directions – simply “where is the funeral house?” is sufficient. The place was full of people – old, young, locals and family members and colleagues from all over. Joana’s father lived in a traditional Ghanaian house, but was a landowner so seemed to be highly respected in his community.

I went in to “greet” Joana, which meant going through to the main family home and sitting with them – not talking much but just sitting – while there was some dancing and celebration from locals. We then went outside and I joined other colleagues under a simple marquee. And started to wait. And wait. After a good hour, I finally asked a colleague what we were actually waiting for. Then pieces of the puzzle came together. I saw some young men, wearing only shorts, running up and round the compound several times. This was because the grave was a new grave, so they have to “run with the stone” round the house three times. We saw women go off to “inspect the grave”. War dancers appeared and danced, then went off to other clusters of people to dance for them. Groups of people – relatives, in laws – came every now and then, disappearing into the compound with traditional “mats” made of reeds. Tradition is that you bring a “mat” to the funeral. The mat is used to cover the body to carry it to the grave. One end – the head end – is bigger than the other. Some tradions dictate that the mat be carried wide end first – others say it should be feet end first.

The graves are huge here – they can hold up to 100 people. Men are buried facing the west as men work in the fields in the mornings when the sun is rising – women are buried facing east as they are particularly busy at night, preparing the food. Bodies are buried sitting up, and the mat that the body is carried in is buried separately – in the wet season. In the dry season, when digging a grave is very hard, the mat is burned – its never buried with the body.

At around 3, we saw men undressing down to their shorts – a sign that the burial (what we’d been waiting for!) would be soon. These men were undertakers, and traditionally, men have to be naked when carrying the body to the grave, though now they wear underwear. It’s important that the body in the mat is carried with naked arms. Then the war dancers went up on the roof, also signalling that the body would soon be taken from its resting place in the house. Big crowds gathered at the entrance to the house, then finally (4.15!!) the body was taken from the house and taken around the house (3 times for men, 4 for women). We had a few hairy moments when we thought the undertakers were going to knock us over. Then the body was taken to the grave, as you heard women crying – the first crying I’d seen all day.

In the south of Ghana, the traditional funeral dress is dark colours, a tradition that has travelled north too now.

Old people have big funerals with war dancing, celebrating their long life. Young people have more sombre events.

Joana’s father had 5 wives, 4 of whom are still alive. Joana’s mother is the first one, and had 10 children, 8 of whom have now died – there is just Joana and her sister left. He has a total of 21 surviving children, 41 grandchildren and 35 great grandchildren. He was 95.

Day 3 – Wednesday 6th October

In Ghana, I don’t take my camera with me everywhere I go – perhaps I should but its one extra thing to worry about.

Today’s picture has two reasons. Firstly, it is my new toy which I can’t wait to try out! After hearing of my difficulties trying to cook with no scales, Jane bought me this super measuring device. My flatmates were equally as excited to see it, and I’m going to attempt tablet this weekend.

However, the second reason for this picture is it made me think of something I saw today. I was visiting one of my schools, and when I arrived I saw a large group of ladies under a tree. After mistaking them for a PTA meeting, I realised they all had small children with them, and that there was an outdoor clinic going on in the school grounds. There was a very simple weighing device attached to one of the tree’s branches where babies were put in a sling at the bottom and their weight taken. It reminded me of Comic Relief scenes on TV, and was nice to see these families being cared for in Ghana.

Day 2 – Tuesday 5th October

Guess what this is? When I left in September, there was not much at all, but I’ve returned to a year’s supply of basil. It is now growing like wildfire and smells gorgeous. Clearly Vic and Rose are better botanists than me – my humble attempt at growing basil in a small tin ended when I drowned it after worrying that it was going to dry out!

Photos and thoughts

I decided that for my next year in Ghana, I would take one photo each day. It lasted about a week……. However, it was a good reminder that I need to keep writing my blog/taking photos… so here’s a little to get started with….

Day one – Monday 4^th October

The tree and sunset in the rain. It started to rain shortly after I got home from work today – I was having a snooze after reading an inspiring story from Gogo Mama about a lady from Kenya who had FGM and is now campaigning and sensitizing people about the dangers. I heard the door bang, and after my initial “I’m being burgled!” thought, I realised it was the wind and knew the rains were coming.

The rain at this time of year is terrific. July and August rain is impressive – big storms often in the afternoons – but it’s at the start and end of the rainy season that you really appreciate and smell the rain – the gentle earthy tones – and hear it – the gentle clanging on the empty pot Godwin uses for cooking, occasional rumbles of thunder. Nothing like it J

A rather African day...

Some days are more typically “African” than others, and this has to be one of them. My morning was spent showing a Ghanaian friend where to get nice Ghanaian presents (he was buying a wedding present for a Canadian friend) and then spent much of the afternoon with my seamstress as she fixed, then refixed, then adjusted my most recent dress.

However, the late afternoon was one of those “I live in Ghana” experiences!

I met Omar, a friend of Sister Marjorie’s. He started a project with Sr M and she wanted me to go along and see it and take some photos. Originally, we were to meet and ride there independently, but he couldn’t get a motorbike at short notice, so asked me to “pick” him. Thankfully I’ve had quite a bit of picking experience lately (thanks to all willing guinea pigs, both vols and brave guests!) so taking a rather small man on the back was not too big a deal.

We rode for what felt like ages along dirt tracks, over large bumps, through rocks, round bends, past villages and finally, on the home straight, came to a rather large puddle, with marshy bits on either side and no clear way through. As ever in Ghana, there was a friendly and willing passer-by to give advice on the best course of action. He recommended going round another route, which I think would’ve added several miles to our journey. So Omar decided to wait until some local men on bikes appeared, hoping they’d show us the best route through. They went across a less marshy grassy bit then back onto the road. After a brief conversation in Frafra, Omar decided he would ride my bike over a clearer patch and I would meet him on the other side. He attempted to do this, but got stuck in the mud just before reaching dry land. The two bicycle men quickly jumped off their bikes, into the mud and pushed him out effortlessly. I was looking for a suitable path to take, across some stepping stones perhaps, when one bicycle man came along, grabbed my arms, threw them round his neck and piggy-backed me right the way across to the other side. Very soon after, with me back in the driving seat, Omar pointed to a building up a small but very steep hill and across the grass – so somehow I managed to ride up the verge, across the grass and to the centre.

After seeing the project and speaking to some local people helping with some tree planting, we heard thunder rumbling in the distance and we set off back to Bolga, this time trying to miss the huge puddle by going a better route. Of course Omar had to “greet” and chat to all manner of people enroute as the thunder got louder and more threatening. At the moment in Ghana it is farming season, so there are huge tall fields full of corn, with only small dirt tracks running through them – I felt like a character in “Honey I Shrunk the Kid”! We managed to make it back to a road, very narrowly missing 3 stray chickens (the most stupid creature in Bolga), a small herd of sheep and one small child. All of a sudden, we seem to be in a village but are actually back in Bolga, Omar jumps off the bike and tells me to “follow that man” to take me back to the main road.

A slightly more successful day’s riding than Monday’s, where I got stage fright going through our local puddle, slowed down way too much and ended up IN the puddle, covered in mud, with the bike on top of my leg, and three ladies up to their ankles helping me out of the situation. It was a laugh or cry situation and thankfully laughing was the far better option!

Ghana musings, one year on

As I entered my late twenties yesterday (eek!!), I was reflecting on the last year, my trials, tribulations, mistakes, successes, and, of course, funniest moments.

Fourteen months ago, I never would have thought I’d hear myself say this, but my biggest and most surprising success to date has been the motorbike (Jack Yoko Biko MacBike.) Without my trusty wheels, I would have never have been able to do my job, see vast parts of the countryside and experience much of the Ghanaian way of life. I’ve also had a fair few passengers – thanks to all willing guinea pigs!

Emma asked me what my favourite thing about Ghana was and after quite a lot of humming and hawing, I finally replied “Ghanaians”. I’ve been so lucky in my work – virtually all colleagues have been friendly, welcoming and pleasant, and the director has always given the nod to anything I’ve wanted to do, which greatly helps in my placement. Sometimes, I wish they’d ask a bit more about what I’m doing as I’m often left to my own devices – but I’d certainly rather it this way round than the other way round.

Not only have colleagues been friendly and welcoming, but strangers too. Although Ghanaian customer service sometimes has a LOT to answer for, people on the whole are nice (nice not being a word I particularly like, but it’s true.) People passing on the street, particularly in our local neighbourhood, will greet you, ask you how your day is, your family, your husband (did I tell you I have a part time Ghanaian “husband”?) and children often run after you shouting “sulemia”, not normally expecting anything more than a wave.

I was torn between Ghanaians and my job in Ghana being my favourite thing here. Leaving class teaching behind has made me realise that I actually really enjoy… class teaching! The few chances I have had to be in front of a class have been great fun though challenging – the major challenge changing from behaviour management to what to do with a huge class and few resources.

The teachers I have worked with have been great too, taking many suggestions on board, making teaching materials and using them and helping to make my job easier. I have particularly enjoyed watching almost 60 teachers in the last 4 weeks of term and giving them feedback.

I have been one of the luckiest volunteers, visitor wise, and enjoyed two visits from both Rachael and Sonia, a visit from Mum and Dad and Emma and Hayley joining Sonia on her second trip here. I love being able to show people round – my house, my office, my schools… and it will make it easier for me when I come home that I can natter on to people and know that they have at least some idea of what Bolga and the Upper East is like. Anyone else is “invited” – get your diaries out…

The volunteer community throughout Ghana is an incredible network, and I think we’re lucky in Ghana to have such a strong and varied group of people, willing to help each other in many ways. In Bolga in particular, (just because I live here and so know about it J), I would not hesitate to ask anyone to help me if I was in need, whether it be getting shopping when I’m sick, helping me to move my moto when it falls over and gets stuck on the step going into the house or suggesting how on earth to cook the unknown vegetable I’ve bought in the market! Volunteers are also such a useful and important sounding board for work problems and cultural differences and how to deal with them. It’s sometimes just important to have someone you can moan to about how long it took for the meeting to start at the office, how hot you are… or to lament on matters of cheese.

I’ve already talked about people who look out for you, and that also goes for the people who work for us – Godwin, our faithful and reliable, if slightly drunk, nightwatchman; Janet our washing lady, and Rita my seamstress J.

No writing on Ghana would be complete without mentioning….Food!!! I think Sonia and Emma were shocked and amused at how much I was able to talk about cheese and bread whilst in Burkina. Being in Ghana makes you… experimental… when it comes to food, and I for one really enjoy the nightly challenge of what to make from eggs, tomatoes, garden eggs, alifi and cabbage… Sonia, Emma and Hayley – I think I exhausted ALL my recipes on you, had you stayed any longer, we would’ve been back to Ghanaian risotto again!

So after my Pollyanna enthusing, here’s what makes me not so chirpy in Ghana…

Customer service – and lack thereof – I’ll have to write further about this as have an array of funny stories in this vein….

The weather – sometimes. I like the heat and am so glad I’m not stuck in Nepal in the winter or even in southern Ghana, which is significantly cooler at certain times of year but always humid. However, sometimes, when you are sitting completely still under a fan going at full blast, drinking ice cold water and wearing very little, yet there is STILL sweat dripping down your face, you do wonder what on earth you’re doing here. Ah, and when, in mid-March, they decide to cut the power for a few hours around midday… you miss Scottish summers!

As someone who had never had a day off sick from work, I’ve certainly made up for lost time recently – around 2 weeks worth minor illness here – I won’t miss that!

I think most volunteers go to Ghana thinking that they know a bit about development, and by the end of their first few months, realise that actually its nothing like you thought it was.

Big NGOs have poured billions of pounds into Africa over the last 5 or 6 decades, and some days, you wonder where that money is now as you walk into a school with no tables, no seats, no lights, no doors and 100 children squashed into a room, being taught by a keen but untrained teacher who is being paid about £25 a month. Other days, you look at projects like Afrikids – Mama Laadi’s Foster Home, their Medical Centre – and see what a difference someone’s vision can make. Progress can sometimes be painfully slow, but it’s encouraging that many NGOs, VSO included, are now taking a much more bottom up approach to development, asking people what they need and want rather than giving them money and telling them how to spend it. The vast majority of the time, the people who know their needs best are they themselves – not someone sitting in an office in London.

Anyway, here’s to another year in Ghana! J

Rose’s new bike (a true story, written in the style of a children’s story... just because!)

Rose had just learned to ride a motorbike. She had now taken the bike home, and is ready to take it out for the first time alone.

Rose’s bike is new to her, but it is not a new bike. It has been at the garage having repairs done before she sets off by herself.

Rachel has had a bike for a few months. She helps Rose manoeuvre it out of the house, bump down the step and slide down the ramp! It’s almost ready to go.

Rachel (still dressed in her indecent zebra pyjamas and flip flops) goes out to watch Rose go off on her bike. Rose tries to kick start it a few times, but after she’s started it, it shudders to a stop. Rachel thinks that having an audience is not helping Rose, so she goes back into the house to finish her tea.

A few seconds later, Rachel hears Rose at the door. “I can’t get the bike started,” Rose says. Rachel (still in pyjamas) goes back out to see what she can do to help.

A boy, aged about 11, comes along and tries to help. He is wearing big green wellies, with big cuts down the sides of them. His wellies are too big for him, so he takes them off, goes on the bike and tries to start the bike. Vroom, vroom, vroom... but the bike does not start.

Rachel decides to have a go (despite the fact that she has only once successfully kick started a bike, under careful direction and supervision from an expert). She goes back into the house, puts her socks and walking boots on, and comes back out to help start the bike. One attempt... no good. Two attempts... no good. Third attempt... the bike starts! She keeps the revs high while Rose climbs on. Rose gets into gear... then the bike stops! Oh no!

Rachel suggests that they move the bike around to better angle, so that Rose can take off in a straight line. They move the bike round. Rachel gets back on the bike again but it doesn’t start. The boy gets back on the bike again but it doesn’t start. Rose gets back on the bike again but it doesn’t start. Oh no!

A gate creaks open, and out comes Damien, another volunteer. “Hello,” says Damien. “Are you having trouble starting the bike?” Rachel and Rose explain the problems they’ve been having, and Damien suggests that they have flooded the engine (whatever on earth that means!) and should put the throttle back in.

A neighbour appears on his bike, and Rose calls him over. “Can you help us fix the bike?” she asks. He comes over to look at the bike.

Rose, Rachel, the boy, Damien and the neighbour all look at the bike.

By this point, Rachel is very late. It is 8.45 and she needs to be at a school at 9am. The school is 25mins ride away, and Rachel is still wearing her indecent zebra pyjamas.

“I’m going in to have a shower,” Rachel says. “Thank you for all your help,” says Rose.

Rachel goes in, has a super quick ice cold shower, and wanders into the living room, wearing a couple of towels and brushing her teeth. The door opens.

“We need to borrow your spark-plug-fixer (of course this is not quite what she said, but I’ve not got a clue what she was actually after!), my toolkit’s missing from my bike,” say Rose. She and Damien come into the house. Rachel, still clad in towels, and with toothpaste all over her mouth, gets her moto key and shows Damien where to get the tools from in the side of the bike. Rose takes the tools from Rachel and goes to fix her bike.

Damien and Rachel then try to get the side of the bike back on. They clip the first bit in, but then the second bit won’t fit. They put the second bit in, but then the first bit won’t clip on. They turn the key, but still the side won’t go back in the moto. (Rachel’s towel very nearly falls right off.) Damien says, “I’ve got to go to work now, sorry!” Damien leaves and Rose returns with the tools. “They don’t work,” says Rose. Rose and Rachel finally manage to get the side back on the side of the bike (who needs men?!) and Rachel is finally able to get dressed.

She gets ready really quickly while Rose phones the mechanic and asks him to come to the house. The neighbour, Jacob, helps Rose take the bike back into the house.

Rachel is finally ready to leave. She fixes everything onto the back of her bike, collects her helmet, jacket, gloves and key, and goes to set off. She puts the key into the ignition, tries to turn it... and it won’t turn. (By this stage it must be 9.15 and Rachel is really late!) This happened to her friend before. Sometimes when you take the side off the bike, the key gets bent in the lock and won’t fit into the ignition properly.

Rachel goes back into the house, finds the hammer and hammers the key so that it is totally straight again. Finally she is ready to go!

Rose waits in the house, and the mechanic comes and collects her bike. It gets fixed.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Hello

Just some more photos as the internet connection seems to be good today!

These are from the OD meeting I went to in Tamale a few weeks ago, with Sister Katherine Therese, a Sister I know from when I was in Swaziland, Jillian's birthday party a few weeks ago and of Madam Assibi who runs the shop beside our house. Enjoy!

Wee update...

Due to popular demand (i.e. Coral wants more info about what I've been up to!) I’m going to recap on my last few weeks.

Ruby, a volunteer from Essex working with me on Let’s Read stuff, has been here for well over a month now. She is staying at Mama Laadi’s Foster Home (see previous entries!) and is here to work with the kids at ML, and also help me with workshops etc.

Poor Ruby has been sick, so we’ve been to and from the hospital several times. Malaria is sometimes over diagnosed in Bolga, so what’s made her sick isn’t entirely clear, but she does seem to be on the mend this time, fingers crossed! The hospital we go to is nice enough. There are always HUGE queues of people, but we tend to get seen quickly (as in less than 3 hours) due to the work we’re doing. After rather public weighing and blood pressure measurements, you are then seen by a doctor, who normally sends you for blood tests (so long as the sink isn’t blocked – the most recent reason for not being tested) and then after waiting an hour or so, you are seen by the doctor again to tell you the prognosis. It’s not the most efficient of systems, but much better than a lot of hospitals. Ghanaians are meant to have health insurance, and if they do, they do not need to pay to see the doctor but have to pay for all drugs, no matter what’s wrong with you. (insurance costs about 10 cedi a year, which is about gfice pounds – and is a lot of money for the poorest people who might not earn 1 cedi a day.) In the case of cancer or other such serious conditions, that can mean forking out hundreds or thousands of cedi for treatment, or going without.

Other than that, we’ve been busy setting into place all the arrangements for 10 days of intensive head teacher and teacher training. My Let’s Read ladies from the UK arrive on Wednesday to work with me in Bolga for a week and a half. We are splitting into two teams of two and carrying out various workshops training head teachers in leadership management issues and training P3-6 teachers on the use of phonics resources and effective teaching methods. So I’ve been a travel agent/secretary/accountant and all round general dogs body getting things ready for their arrival. We are arranging some of the workshops with Link Community Development and some with Afrikids (a charity based in Bolga) so I’ve been racing around laminating, shopping, enquiring and delivering!

We were meant to do the last in a series of 5 workshops at one of my schools last week. The workshop was helping the teachers – all 30 of them – to make teaching and learning materials from card and other simple materials. After confirming with the head last Monday that everything was ready to go for Tuesday afternoon, we arrived in my office 30 mins before the start of the workshop to discover that all the teachers were at a different workshop elsewhere and so would not be present for ours! This was after spending most of last Saturday afternoon making things and spending much of last Monday preparing. However, now rescheduled for tomorrow so hopefully it will go ahead.

I rode my bike all the way to Paga and back on Wednesday. Paga is about 40km from Bolga, but with all the stops and starts and detours (intentional – I DID NOT GET LOST!!) it was more like a 110km round trip! I was very pleased with myself and was able to deliver invitations to my 5 Kassena Nankana schools. (KN is a district just north of Bolga).

Other than that this weekend has been unusually busy. On Friday night, Sam, a friend from Navrongo, came to our house and cooked us dinner which was AMAZING! We had sausage casserole and mashed potatoes (mashed potatoes are such a treat here!) and ice cream with peanut brittle for dessert! Wonderful!

On Saturday we had the regional meeting, and I was elected as one of two new regional reps. That means that volunteers in the Upper East can come to me with any queries about problems with the programme office or things that they’d like help in sorting; that I am in charge of the distress fund for volunteers who have lost or had items stolen; and that I will go to Accra to meet new vols as and when they arrive. Stephen, my co-rep, is in Zebilla, so we will work together on all these things.

Last night, we had a night at the “cinema”! There is a compound in town where Nigerian films are shown on a tv, and for 30peswa (about 15pence!), you can watch. We watched two films, Left Alone and Left Alone 2, and they were up to the usual Nigerian standard – lots of screaming, shrieking, very loud sound effects, very bad special effects, and the usual mix of romance, juju, Christianity, gun fights, police bribery and confusion. We plan to make our very own for viewing at a cinema near you soon!

We then went to Celebrity, a local night club, and despite there being no music or other customers for the majority of the night, we had a fab time singing and dancing!

Other photos I hope to attach are of the Hairdressing and Seamstress graduations which we went to last weekend. Janet, one of our neighbours and a hairdresser, had one of her students, Teni, graduating, so we went along to watch. We turned up just 3 hours late, which was perfect timing to catch the start of the ceremony (a very long prayer) followed by a procession of all the graduants and their teachers, and then presentation of certificates. We were then given minerals (fizzy drinks) and snacks by our hosts.

School painting

We are now coming to the end of the rather lengthy school holidays – three weeks for Easter. Being a teacher working in schools but not with teacher holidays, this could mean a somewhat quiet time. However, I’ve managed to organise a couple of painting projects in schools.

The first was helping to touch up some painting done in Logre Primary 18 months ago. This was a bit of a baptism of fire! As you may know, art is not my strongest subject, so freehanding with drippy, sticky gloss and trying to draw complicated diagrams of flowers and fill in boundary lines in maps of Ghana proved to be fairly challenging. However, we managed in 2 days with a lot of help from the headteacher (Gana!) and 3 other teachers.

Our second project was painting 12 classrooms at one of my Let’s Read schools, Preparatory. We’ve been doing workshops here every week and so decided it was a good school to start painting at. There are 24 classes in the school, 4 at each stage, and 1200 children in the primary (and 400 in kindergarten!) (That averages 50 per class, though there are classes here with over 60.) We painted the alphabet in the infant (P1-3) classrooms. I had a super team of VSOs helping and also some children Ruby is working with at Mama Laadi’s, so we managed 10 classrooms in the first 2 days (and 2 days to do the last two, which were painting on wooden partitions so a bit trickier!)

Here are some of the results...

Timpsons of Ghana

I while back, I went to get some keys cut – not normally the most exciting of tasks, but quite a Ghanaian experience!

First of all, finding the place was not the easiest of tasks. I had been told that the place was about 2/3 of the way between the traffic lights and the junction, and that the shop was near a small walkway and had a Ghanaian style blind at the front – not the easiest of directions to follow!

I pulled up to approximately the correct place, neatly dodging a stray goat, and asked men fixing engines where I could get my keys copied. They pointed me to the place, and I went to shop and asked if I could get two keys cut. They gave me a price (always agree a price BEFORE you start, saves a lot of hassle!) and a boy of about 12 gave me a low foot stool to sit on. He then went back to playing with his young sister, around 18 months, who was totally naked but for some fluorescent green beads around her waist, and of course gold studs (which girls here are practically born wearing). My attention returned to my key cutter, the children’s father I assume, who was filing the keys himself using very basic tools – a measuring device of sorts, a clamp and a simple file. Although it was around 4pm, the temperature was still in the late 30s at least, and I was still wearing full biking gear, denimy jacket, walking boots, long trousers, holding my large helmet and fleecy gloves.

His outdoor workshop was very basic – a table, his tools and a small filing cabinet. Above and around the worktable were the family’s clothes hanging out to dry, big plastic containers, some filled with water and a bench.

The children were just behind him – hardly a sight you’d be likely see in “health and safety” Britain; the boy and small girl, two other boys, aged about six and four, eating food (with their hands, of course, the Ghanaian way!) and then later, their older sister, perhaps 16, who appeared wearing her “tea-and-bread” (yellow and brown) school uniform. The small girl grabbed hold of her big sister and clung to her legs, clearly happy to see her.

Helping the key-cutter were two or three other young men, aged between 16 and 19 – sons, possibly, or apprentices. Just as I was wondering where mother was, she appeared, large bowl of water balanced on her head, and shouted for the girl to help her down with it. She then collected some water in a small plastic teapot (clearly not used for tea, just about as useful as a chocolate teapot in that sense) and washed her arms and legs.

Mother and older daughter went inside the small house (behind the workshop) and baby was left alone, attempting to eat some fallen rice from the ground until her big sister appeared and emptied her mouth. The boys finished their food, and one washed his hands and returned the plastic bowl to the spot where the food had been bought, clearly used to the routine.

As I sat and waited, I was acutely aware of the smell – the shop being just off the main road was right beside a large open gutter, and after a very hot day, the smell was not pleasant – one of many strong smells I encounter daily.

I asked for a receipt and the older boy was given the receipt book which he went off with for several minutes. I don’t know why the keycutter didn’t write it himself – perhaps illiterate, perhaps he doesn’t have the stamp bearing the shop’s name in his workshop – no idea.

As I left, in true Timpson’s style, I am given a friendly send off – a compliment – “I like your helmet!”

5 Ghana top 5s

Food

5. Cosay (probably spelt incorrectly) - looks like a doughnut, made from ground beans, sometimes a little spicy, breadlike in consistency.

4. Goat kebabs – only when bought from our spot, Feel at home – definitely the best in Bolga.

3. Plantain chips – served with a bit of yazee (ground peanuts and salt).

2. Fan Yogo – strawberry frozen yoghurt, bought from a Fan Ice boy at the tro tro station.

1. Jallof rice – red in colour, made with tomatoes, vegetables, chili, and sometimes the key secret ingredient, ground fish. Delicious!!

Drinks

5. Star – yes, I can’t believe it, but beer has actually made it into my top 5! Still drunk normally with a bit of Sprite to make shandy of sorts

4. Gordon’s Spark – basically alcopop made from gin and fizzy orange juice

3. Smirnoff Ice – just the way it comes at home

2. Red wine+sangria – out of 2 cartons, occasionally made into mulled wine.

1. Shandy – different from 1 above as it comes in a beer sized bottle and very refreshing – only available north of Tamale.

Stupid animals – especially when encountered on motorbike

5. Cows – not nearly so fast as other animals normally, they are more obstacles to dodge. However, one quick, unexpected move and I’m sure the cow would come off better than me. Someone has started letting out their cows at the end of our street – just a small herd of around 10 – as if I didn’t have enough to dodge what with the sewage from the neighbours house, the pig family and goats.

4. Pigs – they only appear at 4 as they are less common than the others – quite fast moving despite how they look, and they have such big families you can be waiting weeks until the whole lot cross the path.

3. Goats – by far the most common of animals encountered, but at least they understand when you beep your horn that they need to get out of the way and not run towards you.

2. Chickens – why did the chicken cross the road? Because they saw a motorbike coming towards them and decided that now was the best time to cross.

1. Sheep – the clear winner in this unfortunate competition, the sheep – who looks nothing like the sheep at home, more of a hairy kind of goat – is by far the most stupid of animals. Sheep do indeed follow each other everywhere, and seem to think that the motorbike horn is a signal to run towards and not away from.

Places to go when it’s too hot…

The few places in Bolga which have AC

5. The Vodafone office – unfortunately, not being a Vodafone customer, this hideout is not the most convenient – there’s only so long you can wander around looking lost in this small office before you are escorted out.

4. The electricity bill paying place – again, only really a viable option at very specific times – they don’t appreciate you going in to thank them for their good service.

3. The Afrikids office – always lovely and cool, and they give you water – but you can’t really disturb these hardworking people too often unless you actually have something to talk to them about!

2. Ubald’s office – one of the VSO Education officers, his office is always lovely and cool – but he is rarely there at the moment.

1. Barclay’s bank – perfect spot to hide out in for a while. Join the end of the queue and wait until you get really near the front, and then hold your head and say “oops, forgot my card today.” Alternatively sit in the waiting area reading a book and no-one bats an eyelid.

Weird and wonderful Ghana

5. The time that Ghanaians get up – when Olke and I go for our slightly crazy 6.15 runs, most people are already on their way to work and school, whereas I’ve just rolled out of bed.

4. Eating so neatly with their hands – Ghanaian food is mainly stodgy foods with soups and sauces, and Ghanaians are very good at eating neatly with only the right hand.

3. Greeting – everyone, everyday – makes for such a nice work atmosphere, but takes ages.

2. How much and what they can carry on their heads – sewing machines, planks of wood, school bags, massive bowls pilled high with fruit, veg, bags of stuff…

1. Ghanaianisms – I’m coming (meaning I’ll go away and come back at some time later today, small small (a very small bit/amount)…(more of these later)

Why you should eat all your goodies as soon as you get them…

I have just returned from Accra. We arrived in at 3am, Pat, another vol, slept on the sofa and I went off to my room. There seemed to be a bit of an odd smell there, but at 3am I didn’t care much, assumed it was my bag of dirty washing and all the dust that seems to have appeared over the week, so I changed my sheets and got into bed.

This morning, after a lazy breakfast and chat to my flatmates, I had a bucket bath and went to get dressed.. Rose helped me put my mattress – rather dusty so possibly the cause of the strange odour – outside to air. I then went to get dressed. On opening my drawers, I found the smell was worse and so pulled out my drawers to have an investigate at the back of the wardrobe. It was very dusty, but nothing else as far as I could see. On going through my drawers, however, I found some Starry Rock rock (which I had been saving for a rainy day and slightly forgotten about) all gnawed at... mice!

After squealing a little and showing Rose the rock, I got dressed and set about rinsing my clothes in that drawer (not easy when there’s not been any water since Thursday!) and sweeping out the stuff from the back of the wardrobe – using a couple of carrier bags as gloves as there was no other way to get into it. Then I felt something a little furry... then I REALLY screamed!! Thankfully, we had a Ghanaian friend over and he bravely removed the dead mouse, tail dangling from the bag... eugh!!

Next problem – cleaning up. We’ve had no water since Friday night and our supplies are running low, but we’ve now got some from the bore hole so I will use part of my ration and a lot of bleach...

Believe it or not, although, as many of you will know, I’m not all that TIDY, I’m relatively CLEAN, but cleaning out the back of my wardrobe and taking out the drawers doesn’t happen so often. No more sweets stashed in my room again!!

A night out......

A night out in Glasgow....

Clothing etc -
jeans, boots, nice top, cardigan, jacket, scarf, hat, gloves, hair straightened, make up and perfume on

Bag contents -
purse, phone, perhaps camera, make up, keys, ID, perhaps some extra layers

Getting there and away -
phone a taxi company you know and pay what they ask when you get there. Hope they get there on time.

A night out in Ghana

Clothing etc-
flip flops, dress, hair scraped back so that it doesnt stick to your neck in the heat, some lip balm if i remember as make up literally slides off your face

Bag contents -
purse, phone, perhaps camera, mozzy repellent, head torch, tissues and hand wash (for use at urinals), keys

Getting there and away - catch a taxi on the road, ask the price, argue with it, agree on something sensible (like 3 cedi, 1 pound 20).... and, as was the case on Saturday, take the taxi's landline number. Yes, our taxi had a proper house phone, which even had a landline number. I've no idea how he rigged it up - hilarious!

Rachael came back! It was fab! Here are the photos, I'm writing a book about the rest of the trip so will publish it when I've finished!

After waiting for the best part of an hour, playing “guess which one is Rachael” with myself as I saw people’s midriffs in the window as they came through customs and mistaking several young girls and a middle aged man for Rach, watching the pilot, the other pilot and a team of air hostesses come through and then leave the airport, Rach finally appeared! I took her to my poor taxi man, who had been waiting in the car park with his small girl sleeping in the back of the taxi.

We spent a night at the infamous “Hotel St George” and spent Monday morning changing money and trying to locate “Benal” for whom I had been given a mysterious package to hand over urgently.

We checked into our hotel in Elmina where a rather serious receptionist gave us a choice of room – double or twin – warning us that whichever we chose, we would have to share the bathroom facilities with whoever was in the other room… little did we know about the curse we seem to have put on most hotels in Ghana…

A short walk from the hotel was a little spot, where you could grab a plastic chair and look out over the golden sand and palm trees and look at the sea… why would you want to go anywhere else…

Tuesday morning found us strolling along the beach, paddling in the sea and looking out on to Elmina Castle in the distance. We found our way up to the castle, assured the army of Ghanaian men that, no, we did not need any help, and went on a (somewhat incomprehensible) tour of the castle, which had passed hands between the Dutch, Portuguese and British and was used as a short-medium term holding place for millions of slaves throughout the 17th-19th centuries.

We then visited another Fort. On our arrival, the elderly man, sleeping on a bench, got up, welcomed us with a warm smile, and went over to sit at his official desk. As he related the history of the fort to us, he put on his trousers then his shirt, spending much time fastening the cuffs, pulled on his socks (no shoes), and then took us on a tour of “his” fort – which I really believed he had as much affection for had it been his own home. We showed us all of the nicest views, advised us on all the prime photo taking spots around “his” fort, and told us to climb up a rather rickety ladder to his “wow” tower – so called as everyone says wow when they see it, as we too did.

He had pointed out a graveyard on a hill, so we then went up to check it out.

As we sat, catching our breath and watching some of Ghana’s finest sheep-goats stare at us, a man came along, introduced himself as the priest of the church, and asked us about our travels. After a few minutes of chatting, he said to me “so this is your daughter?!” Rachael erupted with laughter while I tried to explain that it was my friend, not my daughter, and Rachael spent the next hour making fun of her “mother”.

Karma… haha.

We walked back along the beach to our hotel, paddling in the sea and trying to avoid the many children that wanted us to “snap” them. All of a sudden, a rather large wave passed us, and as Rachael jumped away from it, dropped her sandal. The sea, clearly vying for me after the priest incident, decided to steal Rachael’s sandal as I tried not to laugh too much!! The receptionist didn’t bat an eyelid as we later walked into the hotel after our walk down the beach and then road, me fully sandaled and Rach in her bare feet!

We had a lovely meal that evening at Mabel’s Table – delicious fish and interesting pizza – while watching the most beautiful sunset 

Despite my ridiculous optimism, our early morning walk along the beach was fruitless, so we had to leave Elmina later that morning minus a sandal.

The next part of our journey, to Butre, was rather complicated and not particularly clear, and we did wonder how long it would take to get from Elmina to Takoradi, Takoradi to Angona and then Angona to Butre. But we did not give the Ghanaian tro service nearly enough credit.

We explained to our taxi driver that we wanted to go to Takoradi, and assumed that we would be waiting round Elmina for an undefined amount of time, probably at least an hour or so. This was not to be. We didn’t even get as far as the main tro stop when the taxi driver made a gesture out of the window, speaking Ghanaian Transport Sign Language, stopped the taxi, grabbed our bags and bundled us into a nearby tro. We were off.

The hour or so journey to Takoradi took us through lovely lush green countryside, quite different to the barren north. The tro assistant/money taker/bag organiser/passenger finder asked us where we wanted dropped off, so we said that the tro station. A look of confusion came over his face, so I said “lorry park”, (another way of saying tro station). He shouted to the driver, who turned around as if to say “you want dropped where?!” However, the tro driver and assistant, ever the helpful Ghanaians, stopped several people and asked, and a friendly man named Leonard, who used to be in the British army, helped us out and directed us to the tro station, giving me his phone number (and not asking for my number – unusual) and saying to call if we had any trouble on our travels.

On our arrival in Agona, we spent much time haggling with the taxi driver to get a taxi to Ghana Spirit for 10 cedi – as advised by the man at Ghana Spirit. Unfortunately, we didn’t realise that that would mean that the taxi driver would decide to drop us a little further from our destination than we expected – a very long 20 minutes ensued while we trudged along the beach at midday carrying far too much luggage, accompanied by two children who took our lighter bags and then hung around until we gave them some coins.

It was definitely worth the wait though. Golden sand, palm trees, beach huts, comfy sofas and a gorgeous view out onto the water – couldn’t ask for much more! Oh and no other guests (again).

Our first meal at Ghana Spirit was the only slightly disappointing thing about our whole visit. After over 30 minutes, we got our slightly soggy corned beef sandwiches. The cook/waiter/receptionist apologised for the delay, and explained that the fridge was in Butre (where we’d been dropped in the taxi) so they’d had to go and fetch the ingredients after we ordered!!

On Thursday morning, we set out very early on a boat trip where we’d been promised to see crocodiles, alligators and monkeys. We walked along the beach, passing two or three sets of men tugging on what looked like tug of war ropes. We later learned that the ropes were attached to each other, and were used to bring in fish.

We got to the boats and were told to wait while our guide got the boat ready. Rach and I played guess the boat, for once reversing the optimist/pessimist roles we normally take on, with me assuming the rickety old boat in the corner was ours, and Rach opting for the brightly painted blue one. Unfortunately I was right. The boat was brought over and our guide collected a bowl... which he used to scoop out the water from INSIDE the boat before we got in.

Our trip went on, and we saw fish, heard birds, and then stopped at the side for something. Our guide got out, rolled up his trousers and walked around on the muddy bank, occasionally putting his hand in the mud, apparently trying to scoop something out – perhaps he had lost something, maybe he was looking for gold?! We sat, sweating, thirsty and sun-burning, wondering when the trip would end and more than a little tempted to take off without him. We then noticed hundreds of tiny crabs... not quite what we were expecting. After a very long 5 minutes, our guide returned to the boat slightly annoyed at not having found whatever it was that he was looking for – a large crab I assume.

The rest of the day was spent eating the AMAZING breakfast of chocolate pancakes and banana, reading books on the sand, visiting Butre and paddling in the sea and eating far too much lovely food.

On the Friday, we travelled back to Cape Coast, very much looking forward to our stay at the “Savoy Hotel” – which was, on arrival, not quite what I’d pictured – I’m sure it was nice 15 years ago, when there were lightbulbs on the stairs and the staring statues had been dusted once in a while. We ate at Cape Coast Castle Restaurant, again gorgeous seafood, and drank cocktails in a bar on the beach.

We got up far too early on Saturday to make our way to Kakum National Park, a park an hour inland of Cape Coast with treetop canopy walks through the rainforest. I must admit I was rather anxious about being very high up on a swinging rope bridge, but put on a brave face and agreed to go along.

When we arrived, a little later than planned, there were few visitors and so I assumed the kindly VSO advice of “get there early” was just a malicious ploy to get me out of bed at 6am – there weren’t ten people there! We had to wait a while for a tour to start so got our morning caffeine fix in a nice wooden hut of a restaurant. Then, just as we got up to start our walk, a large crowd of 20 or 30 excitable Ghanaians appeared from nowhere and joined us on the walk. We decided that positioning ourselves at the back was the best bet so that we could take our time, avoid those who like to play on the nerves of those of us not so fond of heights by bouncing on the delicate rope bridges and try our hand at some Glamour-ous photography! This plan was somewhat scuppered when a group of school children came up in the group behind us, but we enjoyed the trip nonetheless and got a few Glamour-ous shots in here and there. We then opted for a forest walk, again worrying that we must be giving off some rather negative vibes to the Ghanaian public as we – yes, only Rachael and I – joined our guide. He took us on a pleasant tour of the forest, pointing our medicinal trees and showing us how to listen for birds. We saw a really big tree (biggest in the south of Ghana/Ghana/West Africa/the world?? – not sure) and then at the end, took us to see the camping spot for those brave enough to stay overnight. Or at least, he tried to. Unfortunately the path was blocked, so Rachael with her ever-impressive sense of direction, led us out of the deep forest, passing what she thought to be a rather dangerous snake and kindly not pointing it out to me. (Turns out it was a centipede!)

Coming back to reception, we realised that our kindly VSO advice had, in fact, been spot on – literally hundreds of holidaying Ghanaians had appeared in the subsequent couple of hours, and we were very glad to have got there early.

We left Kakum and took a tro to Hans Cottage Botel which had been recommended as a nice lunch spot by Anthony and Laura. And it was, very nice food, crocodiles to watch and we left just in time to avoid the hoards of Ghanaians that seemed now to be chasing us!
We had dinner that night at a lovely chop bar come spot very near Cape Coast Castle. Chic Hebs owned by Henrietta, a very colourful, voluptuous local, who was absolutely delighted when she realised that Rachael was Rachael Duncan, her sister having a vague connection to the Duncan clan, and insisted on several photos in front of her chop bar. The food was delicious, though the portions enormous!

Our final day in Cape Coast took us back to Cape Coast Cafe for brunch: a nice new place run by a slightly crazy guy who asked me and Rachael our business advice – what we liked, what we didn’t like, whether the prices were fair. Definitely one for the Bradt guide, superb food.

We spent the afternoon with a rather excitable group of Ghanaians looking round Cape Coast Castle, which was not as pretty as Elmina but with a much more comprehensive tour guide! It was the day after Independence Day, and there were hundreds of locals enjoying the sea.

We enjoyed a second cocktail at the Oasis Restaurant bar, and another delicious meal at Cape Coast Castle Restaurant, took photos on the beach and bought oranges from little Florence who had befriended us each time we’d gone onto the beach.

On Monday morning, not feeling so well (AVOID SALAD RACHEL!), we returned to the STC station to catch a bus back to Accra. Unfortunately, Monday being a public holiday and not having been able to book onto the bus before, we had to take a tro back to Accra – a surprisingly nice journey with a nice through breeze and many helpful locals keeping us right.

After a bit of an argument with a taxi driver with a sense of direction akin to mine who wanted us to pay him extra money because he got lost and took longer to find the hotel than expected, we came across a rather strange phenomenon... other guests in a hotel! Yes, that’s right, the curse lifted, there were OTHER PEOPLE sharing a hotel with us. Extraordinary.

We had been unable to book into the Afia African Village Guest House, so we decided to treat ourselves to dinner there, very much worth it even if it was comfort food of tomato soup and ice-cream for my poor tummy!

Our final morning took us on a long walk around Accra, and then to the Cultural Centre craft market – and many very pushy vendors – oh how I like the salesmen in Bolga. After a very long taxi ride to secure me a bus ticket for the following morning, we treated ourselves to a swim at the Shangri-la before heading to the airport and putting Rach on her plane (sniff).

Super super holiday, nice tan, great chat and so relaxing.

Fancy a visit?

Burns night a la Ghana

On Saturday – yes Saturday just past – we had a Burns night party with a distinct Ghanaian flavour – the tardiness!

By Thursday, I decided it was really time to start on my cooking. I got the recipe for Mrs Jump (Dave’s Gran’s) tablet (the reason for slight post-bulldozer weight gain in Swailand), had my HUGE container of condensed milk (only sold in 700g containers) and now needed a kg of sugar. One problem – no scales in the house, very expensive to buy and tricky to find in Bolga. I went into one of Bolga’s best supermarkets (think small corner shop Spar) and asked how much sugar was in a large plastic (sandwich type) bag. A bowl I am told… so I ask how many grams a bowl holds. The poor girl shrugs her shoulders at this demanding “sulumia” and shows me the bowl used for measuring. Having no real idea what a kg of sugar looks like, I agree to take a largish bag… and proceed to the post office.

I trudge into the post office, still in full motorbike gear (helmet, substantial gloves, large bag on my back.) I measure my small package and buy the appropriate postage… then it occurs to me – post office scales! So I asked the man (who, like supermarket girl, also must think me slightly crazy) if I can use his scales to measure my sugar. 1.08kg – perfect!

Tablet made successfully – perfect consistency found by accident after dropping fork in the mixture!

Saturday morning = time for shortbread making – Grandma’s recipe this time. Again, I am faced with the same problem – how to measure the ingredients. I cut the correct amount of butter (4oz) using the gram markings on the side of the paper. I need 2oz sugar and 6oz flour… so how can I measure this with no scales? All I have to work with is a wooden chopping board, several plastic containers and a few empty tiny tomato puree tins. Hmm…. homemade balance scales!! My first few attempts are pretty pathetic – the tins are not small enough to make a good middle balancing bit… then – rubbers! I find two small rubbers in my resource area, and put them under the board, then put half the butter on one side and start my measuring.

The result? Some rather tasty shortbread. (Finished just before the electricity went out for several hours.)

The party was a success. Jason made a rather tasty mackerel concoction to put on bread, and Laura, Vic and I made potato/yam scones and potato/yam soup. This, along with some tinned haggis (thanks Mum and Dad) made our feast, along with some of India’s finest Party Whisky.

Our slightly alternative Burns evening started with a verse of the Bard’s Address to the Haggis and the Selkirk Grace. After our wee feast, we had a Scottish quiz – naming the body parts in Scots, matching famous Scots to their world famous achievements, two rounds of Scotland questions (no, Scots do not (normally) keep their Christmas decorations up until Burns night… but thank you, Rachel Campbell is a well known Scottish artist!) and, my favourite, Scottish music intros.

Unfortunately we didn’t get round to any Scottish dancing… roll on St Andrew’s day!

Photos to follow soon I hope!

A pious weekend

Having somewhat neglected church going activities since arriving in Bolga for various reasons, I thought I should make up for it this weekend.

My first stop, on Saturday, was the funeral of the Catholic Archbishop of Bolgatanga and Navrongo who died suddenly at the end of December. Olke and I decided to pop have a look to see what was happening. We found our way to what I think of as the Catholic area of town – it boasts the Catholic Social Centre, a fully built Catholic church, a half built Catholic church and several St Charles Primary schools – which I have finally established is just the one school spread through several buildings (finding the correct building when visiting the school, however, is another question entirely.)

I have got to say that the funeral was one of the most impressively organised events I have come across in Bolga. There were policemen around, a First Aid stand, food vendors and an array of archbishop memorabilia including programmes, stickers and rosaries.

We made our way through the crowds to get a position at the back of the service – which was being held in the large, half built church which seemed quite like a stadium. In the centre, was a white coffin with a gold cross on top and arrangements of flowers and ribbon. The Archbishop of Wa gave a speech (I think he was the Archbishop of Wa) and there were many prayers and bible readings. People were beautifully dressed – some in Catholic school uniforms, some in black and many in white and black outfits, which I believe is one of the traditional funeral colours. Also were many people in dresses or outfits with Catholic churches or popes on them. We also saw one man wearing a pink t-shirt boasting quite a lot of gold tinsel – and his sidekick wearing a baby-pink sash – a little unusual.

On Sunday, I went with a Ghanaian friend to her church service – not something I plan to repeat in the near future, but certainly an interesting experience. I was to meet my friend at 8.30 and we left around 9.15, arriving at the church at 9.30. We were a little late – the service had started at 8 – but that didn’t matter as they were still in the middle of their VERY LOUD singing, which lasted another 20mins after we arrived. The pastor then got up and performed his sermon lasting well over an hour. Finally, people came to the front for healing prayers, and there were two collections – one straight after the other, and you were expected to contribute to both.

The church is by far the biggest and most impressive building in the whole Upper East Region and would fit in well in any American city. The powerpoint would put many churches in the UK to shame, and the sound system worked far too well! I do wonder if the money spent on building this church would be better spent on things such desks or chairs for children in the very deprived primary schools just a stone’s throw away.

A little look at what I’ve been doing this week…

Would you believe that I would actually quite like a cold day or two – just for a change! On Wednesday, I was at the VSO office with two friends, Anthony and Laura, a vet, had her thermometer with her. She measured 36 degrees, but we thought that was probably just because she had had the thermometer in the car. So we measured again later on and it was 37.3 degrees Celsius – that’s 99.14 degrees Fahrenheit – and we’re not even finding it particularly hot at the moment. You certainly learn to acclimatise and the heat in the north is much more pleasant than in the south – much drier so it isn’t too muggy.

Work has really picked up this week – I’ve been so busy!! On Monday, which I was imagining would be a slow day, I popped into the office to “greet” everyone (Ghanaians are very in to greeting people and are offended if you don’t!). I then went to the Link Community Development office. I have quite a tenuous link with Link – the ladies who set up the Let’s Read project first came to Ghana through Link, so they help me with things like laminating resources, and taking me to some of the further away schools. We made some vague plans for next week (everything here seems to be vague!)

I then went to the Afrikids office. Afrikids is a Ghanaian charity who work on various projects in and around Bolga. They are probably the biggest charity working in Bolga and I'm really pleased Let’s Read has got me involved with them. One of their projects is a school which I work in sometimes; another of their projects is Mama Laadi’s Foster Home. I have been working with Mama Laadi’s kindergarten teacher quite intensively for the last few weeks. I went to Afrikids to meet David who coordinates work at Mama Laadi’s and Grace International School. I waited for the best part of an hour before he appeared, but I'm glad I waited because I met, Alison who has come with her husband from the UK to work for Afrikids for 3 months. She is a teacher and is interested in working in some of my schools. After a long chat with her, we set up some plans for the following week! I popped back into the office, bumped into the Director of Education (who is very hard to find/get/pin down!) and managed to arrange a meeting with her for Wednesday.

On Tuesday, I met up with Anthony, another VSO who was also to come to the meeting on Wednesday. We spent much of the day planning what we would speak to the Director about today. We also had a brief meeting with Alison, some Afrikids staff and all of the Assistant Directors at the GES offices. Everything is done so formally here – everyone shook everyone’s hand, then we went into the Director’s office and sat in the nice chairs. We then all introduced ourselves and talked about our jobs and experiences. David explained why Alison was here and what she wanted to do and we came up with some vague plans. At the end of the meeting, everyone shook hands again and wished each other a safe journey etc. It’s so nice the way things work here – the greetings and formalities are time consuming, but it keeps everyone on good terms with everyone else.

On Wednesday I went to Mama Laadi’s in the morning to do some simple games with the children. First, I wrote the letters s a t p i n on the board and the children had to tell me the letter name and the letter sound. We then thought of an action for each letter – like a snake going sss and an insect crawling up the arm going i i i i etc. I had written the letters s a t p i n on six sets of bottle tops and each child had to pick a set. One got Coke tops, another Sprite, another Shandy, etc. I then told them a word which uses some of those letters and the children had to make the word. It is amazing how many words can be formed from s a t p i n – I’ve found 49! Some of the children managed it ok, but we will need some more work on it. Finally, we used four sets of bottle tops to play “pairs” – just like the children’s game, but they had to find and remember where the pairs of letters were. Good fun! I now really need to spend some time watching the teacher teach as I’ve done a lot of modelling how to do it recently but I need to make sure she can do it on her own too.

Then in the afternoon we finally had our meeting with the director!! Part of what VSO is trying to do just now is to carry out an Organisational Development assessment on our partner organisation. This means we have to interview people/hold workshops to look at things like how effectively finances are used, how teachers are supervised and also external factors like how the national Ghana Education Service office effects what we do in our office. Anthony and I feel quite out of our depth with this but our Director is very supportive and experienced in this type of thing, so we are optimistic! It is useful for VSO too, so that they can see how they can effectively impact organisations long term.

I spent Thursday and Friday with Charlotte, Christina and Anthony in Walewale sharing our experiences – very useful and nice to get out of Bolga for a while!