A sad day at a school...

I went in to one of my schools last week to support two of the teachers. The head came along to say that she was off to a funeral as someone in the community had died yesterday, and that she and some of her teachers were going to attend. The young man was father to two children at the school, and uncle and guardian of some others. He was a well educated man, with some money, and clearly a pillar of the community.

I was in P3 when we saw hundreds and hundreds of people coming down the dirt track to the makeshift church – a building without a roof which is also home to two P1 classes. Men, women, old, young, on motorbikes, bikes, in cars, going to pay their respects to this young father who had died so tragically.

I spoke to one of the teachers, an intelligent lady in her 50s, the depute head and teacher in P2, about what had happened. “He was coming home from town,” she said, “and an insect stung him in the neck. He was taken to hospital, but he just died. So we think it must be witches, how else would a healthy young man die from that.” Sadly, this response didn’t surprise me, a common belief being that witches are responsible for all sorts of misfortune. Initially, I thought it was only those with traditional beliefs that believed in witchcraft, but actually the majority of Ghanaians do still believe, even the most orthodox of Christians or Muslims. “Perhaps he was allergic to bees or wasps,” I suggested. “Many people don’t realise until they are stung or bitten that they are allergic.” “But he died quickly, how?” the teachers asked. I explained that if allergic, your tongue can swell up and you just can’t breathe anymore, and that although the adrenaline they give you is not a complicated drug, if you don’t take it fast enough, it’s too late.”

I hope that perhaps my explanation will slightly change what those teachers believe but I doubt it.

One wonderful woman I’ve met is Mama Laadi. She runs a foster home for children who have been accused of being witches, or those whose mothers have been accused and often killed. She’s taken in many children that no-one else cares one bit about, or are scared to care about.

I hope the family is able to understand this man’s death and seeks some solace from the church, as many people do; and that there is soon a greater understanding of medicine in these rural parts of Africa so that innocent women and girls, and men and boys, are not punished unjustly.

A trip to the doctor

One of the not-so-good things about being in Ghana is what it does to your health. Luckily, I’ve been much well-er this year than last, and, fortunately, much less sick than a lot of friends. (I hope I’ve not just jinxed my future wellbeing!)

A friend was sick yesterday, so, after a little convincing, we went to the doctor for her to get checked out. By the time we went it was 3pm, and it had been raining earlier, so I had hoped that things would be quieter and fortunately they were.

3.15pm - On arrival at the clinic, you put your card in a box and wait. Everyone has a card with their details on it that the clinic use to find your file. So long as the person with the key has come and opened the room that your file happens to be in that is… Luckily for us the room was open yesterday (unlike another friend’s experience recently). Your file details your name, date of birth, age (apparently I’ll be 26 forever!), religion (“None” is not an option as a friend discovered…) and then any investigations they do. We sit and play Yatzee!

3.45pm - My friend was given her file.

3.55pm – We joined the queue for being weighed and blood pressure. This is done in the reception area surrounded by other people – who said privacy was important?!

4.05pm – We then joined the queue to see the doctor. The last time I was here, this queue was over 20 people long and took well over an hour. This time, the queue was decidedly shorter, but didn’t really have a start or end… My friend was seen after a 5 minute or so wait. I start playing Yatzee with a young man – I don’t think he understood it but we played a game.

4.15pm – Lab tests. Pretty much anytime you go to the doctor, they send you for lab tests for malaria, typhoid and goodness knows what else. Yesterday, the lab had run out of the solution they needed to test for anything other than malaria. We almost give up and go home!

4.45pm – Lab test results are given. You then join the queue to see the doctor again to interpret the results (medical practitioners the world over must be given training in illegible handwriting). A male nurse comes and chats to me.

4.55pm – Malaria +1 diagnosis. This is not as bad as it sounds, and, God-willing (as Ghanaians would say) it should clear up after 3 days of drugs.

5.00pm – Go to the pharmacy in the clinic to collect and pay for the drugs. Try and ask the pharmacist any questions about these strong drugs you’re about to put in your body and they will be highly offended – I think it’s like questioning their professional judgement.

5.05pm – Go back to the doctor to get a prescription for the drugs so that she can claim back from VSO.

5.10pm – Leave the clinic.

A less-than two hour turnaround is pretty exceptional in Bolga, and normally a trip to the doctor takes an entire morning.

Fingers crossed I will continue to be strong, God-willing!

Laylo......(cue guitar riff...)

We have a cat. He is called Laylo.

It wasn’t quite my intention to end up with a pet in Ghana. However, cat-sitting a very tiny kitten turned into looking after a slightly bigger kitten. Now the kitten adopter has left (thanks Vic!) we have Laylo. It’s not like Vic forced us to keep him – I for one was getting a bit attached anyway, so I/we decided to look after him for a wee while, only a small reason being that we were slightly concerned if he went to a Ghanaian family he might end up as dinner as their previous two cats had (both, ironically, named “Wish”).

Laylo is a slightly odd name for a cat, I know. Originally, Laylo was Layla, but after a visit from Laura, fellow VSOer and vet, we discovered his true sex. Now he is normally referred to as Laylo and him, though occasionally, also quite Ghanaianally, he is she. (Even people in the education office get he/she mixed up a lot of the time.)

Poor Laylo has made an enemy in our garden L. Godwin (our night watchman and the cause of many a trouble!) is keeping guinea fowl chicks and a hen in the garden (but a chicken hen, I think – apparently they often do that as guinea fowls aren’t good at looking after their own chicks). Laylo is terrified of the hen! She has the cheek to come and eat his rice, then looks at him with a bit of an evil look in her eye, squawks, spreads her wings and poor Laylo runs inside.

I keep explaining to Laylo that the “nasty hen lady” is a bird and really Laylo should just attack her, but my reasoning doesn’t work. Maybe I should try Frafra.

I explained Laylo the scaredy cat to a friend, who thought Laylo small pathetic – until she came face to face with said hen (we were trying to help a chick that she had left behind) so now she is in sympathy with Laylo. However, my main problem is that the hen keeps eating Laylo’s food. I’ve started to leave Laylo outside during the day, and kept coming back to a totally empty bowl – before discovering it was the nasty hen lady stealing the food. Then I made a barricade with the washing bowls so that she can’t chop Laylo’s food and knock over his water. That didn’t work as my barricade was pretty pathetic, so now his food is high high up and safe I hope!

18 month Ghanaversary…

As I celebrate my 18 month Ghanaversary, I thought I’d think of some favourites, least favourites and funniest sights

Favourite food – my new lunch food of choice is Kenkey, which is fermented maize meal. It is eaten with the hands and is one of the less gooey staples. Or red red, fried plantain and bean stew.

Favourite drink: still tea, but with ideal milk, or Star and Alvaro, the drink of choice for me and the Hannahs at the moment, or Sangria (but COLD Sangria!)

Favourite things about living in Ghana – how genuinely friendly people are; greeting people; the slower pace of life (at times too slow…); the weather for a lot of the year (but not March and April); how untouristy it is; having my family here; travelling with Rachael along the coast and doing Volta with Sonia and Hannah at Christmas; cooking

Least favourite things about Ghana – how people drive, March weather… April weather.

Longest journey: 26 hours, door to door, Accra to Bolga (it can be done in half that time!) which included a 6 hour wait for the bus to leave and an hour long tyre change on the way

Funniest moment – projectile coughing out a Larium tablet on the street in Accra with Vic and Hannah was quite funny, also some Larium dreams have caused a little hilarity…

Funniest message on the back of a vehicle – CRAP FOR JESUS… (I think the R was meant to be an L)

5 most interesting things people carry on their heads

Suitcase

Sewing machine

Blackboard

Computer harddrive

Very long planks of wood, bought at “B&Q” near our house.

5 most interesting things seen being carried on the back of a motorbike

Signboard

Pig

Goat

Mattress (not rolled up!)

Push bike

2 strange cycling sights

Someone cycling with their leg in full plaster

Someone carrying a large bench while cycling

Argument with a police officer

Perhaps not my brightest of ideas…

I was riding my bike to Navrongo to do a workshop for about 25 teachers. Stupidly, I decided to have the workshop at 11, meaning I was riding at 10am then again at 2pm, not great in the 40 degree heat.

I was stopped around 10km from Navrongo by a policeman. Of course when he pulled me aside, I complied.

Policeman: Good morning.

Me: Good morning sir. How are you?

Policeman: Fine thank you, and you?

Me: Fine thank you.

Policeman: Where are you going?

Me (slightly worried about my workshop starting in less than an hour and panicking that my driving license was not in my purse): Navrongo.

Policeman: Can you pick this lady?

Me: Erm, who?

Policeman: This lady here (pointing to a young lady standing by the roadside.)

Me: Erm… does she have a helmet?

Policeman: No. (Sees me starting to worry…) but it’s fine.

Me: Ah, but what if I’m stopped and they charge me for carrying someone without a helmet.

Policeman: (laughing at stupid sulemia) No, it’s fine. There won’t be a problem.

Me: Are you asking me to break the law and take someone without a helmet? But you’re a police officer!

Policeman: It’s not a problem. (Looking hopeful…)

Me: But what if I’m in an accident. My insurance, oh?

Policeman: It’s fine.

Me: The NGO I work for would not be happy if they found out what I was doing. I might have to leave the country (always melodramatic Rachel).

Policeman (seeing I was a lost cause…): Ok, go.

Me: Thank you sir.

Now I'm worried what happens if I cross him again…!

What would you do.......?

When I went for my VSO assessment day, I thought of the types of things I might be asked about potentially working in a developing country. Various things popped into my mind, but one issue I thought I might be asked about was corporal punishment: how I would deal with the prospect of seeing children being caned and what I would do about it.

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Corporal punishment is now illegal in Ghana, yet you go in to few schools in Ghana where you see no-one with a cane or stick in their hand. It is sometimes used as a pointer for the teacher – just because there’s a stick on the table does not mean that the teacher is beating the children. In fact, during my first 15 months in Ghana, I more often saw older children hitting wee ones than teachers beating children. Older children (sometimes monitors) stop younger ones from going into classes during tests and keep order in the playground. I also occasionally saw teachers beating children – normally hitting them around the ear with either stick or a hand – but it was not as often as I’d feared. I don’t know how accurate my view of this is though – teachers know that “sulemias” don’t approve of corporal punishment, so I get the impression that it happened less often when I was in school. However, overall I was pleasantly surprised by how little it was used – though admittedly, threatened often.

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However, a few weeks ago, I went to do a visit in one of my schools. This school is certainly the best of my 18. The children are all taught by qualified, trained teachers (which is very often not the case), the classes are relatively small (most around 40-50), the teachers are creative and effective in the way they teach (they even use group work (!)) and the head teacher is organised and efficient. I’d been asked to go in to observe the work of two new teachers who were sharing a class – one qualified teacher, who had just moved to primary from secondary and one national service volunteer.

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The NSV was taking the lesson and the other teacher was “watching” which in practise seemed to be sitting on the veranda, interrogating any child from other classes that went past to go to the toilet. At one point the man got up, spoke to two boys who I had noticed being a little lively, and got them to come to the front and kneel on the concrete in front of the class. I didn’t ask any questions, and was almost impressed that the teacher had chosen to do this rather than beat the boys. About 15 minutes later, two other children were sent to kneel down. At this point, I realised that the first two had been kneeling for a long time, and wondered if he would come back and tell them to sit. However, instead, the teacher came along and hit each child on the back of the legs five times with a long, thin cane. Perhaps after seeing this happen to child number one, I should have interrupted and asked him to stop. However, I’m slightly embarrassed to say that I chose not to, though certainly felt the anger rising inside me!

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When I had previously seen teachers using corporal punishment, I had not ever spoken to a teacher directly. However, as I was so horrified by what I witnessed (and also, admittedly, rather hungry which doesn’t help my anger levels!), I decided to speak to teacher directly. I asked him if he was a qualified teacher, and asked him if he knew it was illegal to hit children at school. He said that yes he was, but “ah, these children, they are hard to control”. I told him that I’d had smaller classes in the UK that were MUCH harder to deal with, that this was by far the worst case of beating that I’d seen, and that there were many effective behaviour management strategies he could use instead of hitting the children – and I’d be happy to show him some!

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I then left the class, saying I’d come back to observe him soon (which I still haven’t done…) and told a rather shocked head teacher what I had seen. She said she’d speak to him as well, and I think she will.

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Why didn’t I intervene? It’s difficult to say. Although if you are in a class with a Ghanaian head teacher or education office member, they will stop a lesson and correct a teacher, I am of the (British) impression that you shouldn’t undermine a teacher in front of a class – even if you think what they are doing is not correct. Perhaps I should have.

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What would you have done?

Christmas newsletter, a little late......

Hello!

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I realise that any Christmas letter going on for longer than 2 pages is a bit socially unacceptable, but please excuse my Ghana-brain for this 5 page wonder…

I’ve been back in Ghana for about 10 weeks and it has completely flown by! I’ve been feeling much more settled and at home in Bolga, mainly due to being incredibly busy at work and enjoying spending time with friends, both other volunteers and local friends, thinking of new and exciting ways to cook tomatoes and generally sitting putting the world to rights into the wee small hours.

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Workwise, I’ve been mostly busy though things have slowed down somewhat in the last few weeks. My aim this term was to finish watching the 90 or so P4-6 teachers in my 18 schools teach English, and organise 4 workshops for them in interactive reading activities… I very nearly fulfilled my first objective, seeing teachers in all but one school, but organising workshops didn’t prove to be so easy. This week, which would have been ideal, is exam week, and last week was revision week, so the teachers are very busy and not free to come away for two hours during the school day which unfortunately is the only time they can come. Classes are left for hours at a time, but it’s the only way to organise things here. I am now hoping to do one workshop next Monday, hopefully with the help of one of the teachers at my best school – though again, we’re running on African time so who knows if that will happen or not.

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My observations have been very useful though; I’ve seen some teachers who would handle a class in Scotland just fine and others who struggle with speaking good, accurate English themselves. I’ve had a couple of wee goes at taking a few classes myself, mainly for “model lessons” to help show teachers different ideas. I’ve got quite used to standing in front of a group of teachers or children and have a goat or chicken wander past! After a recent model lesson, there is now a P2 class in Yorogo Primary who will chant the words “verbs” and “nouns” forevermore in a Scottish accent!

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The hardest part of the VSO job by far is the “capacity building” side of it. People need to want to have their “capacity” built in the first place, and it takes so long to build trusting relationships with colleagues – particularly when you’re about 20 years younger than most of them! I’m hoping to have some Circuit Supervisors (like QIOs – Quality Improvement Officers) at my workshops over the next few months, then see if I can train them up a bit on what I’m doing.

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Other than working I’ve also been busy at weekends attending other “programmes” (got to love the Ghanaian way of saying these things!). I’ve been to a wedding blessing of a teacher from one of my schools – the longest wedding service I’ve ever seen, and I was standing… outside… for the whole 4 hour service! Another Saturday, my friend and colleague Joana’s father died, so I went to the first part of his funeral (the burial) with literally hundreds of other mourners. I’ve also been to an Anglican Bishop’s consecration – Jacob, a former pupil of Sisters Patricia and Dorothy Stella, two of the Sisters I know from my time in Swaziland but who taught in Bolga in the 70s and 80s. I also had a lovely week in the Upper West Region, at an education sector meeting then travelling to see some friends. There have also been various other Cultatanga gigs (local band that one of the volunteers plays in) and volunteer parties to celebrate everything from Diwali to Christmas! Hannah and I have also been doing a little work with the children at Mama Laadi’s Foster Home once a week – reading and simple phonics activities – fun but tiring!

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I’m still really enjoying having my motorbike, and am even going along to help with the new volunteers’ training one day next week – if you’d told me 18 months ago I’d be riding a motorbike, let alone helping to teach others how to ride, I’d never have believed it in a million years! Despite a few setbacks, including a rather scary journey where I got almost completely stuck in the clay, had it not been thanks to a very kind passerby, I’ve become quite confident (and hopefully competent!) at taking passengers, as my summer guests Sonia, Emma and Hayley discovered! I’ve been taking a new volunteer, Hannah, in to work most days and have had to check a few times that she’s still there… I don’t know if that’s a good sign that I’m feeling more at ease with someone on the back…or a bad sign that I’m not paying enough attention!

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I’m now one of two regional reps for the Upper East Region and we have 23 volunteers and 4 accompanying partners in our region, the biggest contingent in Ghana by far at the moment. The regional rep job involves picking up new volunteers when they arrive in Accra, helping people with problems if they can’t get them solved through the Ghana VSO office, and administering Distress Fund claims every time someone loses a camera or phone. It’s interesting seeing how things are run at VSO and a good excuse to have the odd weekend away in Accra at a nice hotel when the newbies arrive!

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Living in Ghana continues to have its ups and downs. The weather has improved to a very pleasant 24ish at night and cope-able 35ish during the day (lowest temp been 22.9 and highest 37.4 I think since my return…). The Harmattan has not long started, which means very dry winds, chapped lips and dry skin – but my favourite season by far as it is actually necessary to use a sheet to sleep at night! We have a very large family (village?! 200+) of bats living in our roof, whose favourite pastime is to start squeaking incessantly at around 3am every morning. We’ve also a couple of dead lizards in our house, accidentally squashed when resting under cushions on the sofa!

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We’ve only had one other minor disaster lately. I was awakened by shouts of “Madam Rita, Madam Rita[1], the water is flowing!” one night around 2am. When I went outside, I saw that our water pipe had burst and was spraying wildly all over our back garden. Mercifully the breakage was before the meter, meaning it wasn’t being charged – but not much of a comfort at 3am! After an hour of trying to fix it using an insane selection of useless materials (how on earth did I think a Smartie tube would help!), phoning the emergency VSO number and being told to “phone the regional rep, Rachel Campbell!” and waking up several other people whose names and numbers I had for such disasters (Water man??!), our watchman and his friend finally switched it off from the mains outside our house and we were able to dry off and get a few hours’ rest!

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I’ve remained pretty healthy since my return – I must be getting a stronger Ghana stomach finally – and other than a small, minor, unconfirmed case of malaria, (much better than the first one!) I’ve been pretty fit!

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I’d better stop my ramblings now… I hope you are all well, enjoying the snow and feeling nice and Christmassy at home (something I do definitely miss here in Ghana!) Have a lovely festive period and Happy New Year when it comes.

Lots of love,

Rachel xx

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[1] Rita, Richard, Reechee, Richie, Rahel, Raquel, Rackel, Rake-hel… Ghanaians generally CAN’T say Rachel!