Small hills, big mountains

Success!

One of the things you realise when doing something like a VSO placement is that you’re not going to change the world – because if it could be changed that easily, why hasn’t it happened yet.

However, the other day, I had what I can only describe as a very surprisingly successful day. In order to explain it, you need to know a few things about workshops in Ghana and how they work.

If teachers are invited to a workshop, they will normally receive either lunch or a snack, or a snack and lunch if it’s an all day event, a mineral (soft drink) and water. This is provided by the organisers; participants pay nothing. The organisers are also expected to pay T and T – travel and time. This can vary from Ghc5 to Ghc10 normally, and I’ve heard a case of some giving as as much as Ghc35 for one day’s work. (£1=Ghc2.40)

In early 2010, I wanted to do a series of 1 hour workshops at one of my schools, but not provide any snack (one hour doesn’t honour a snack in my miserly opinion) and no T and T (the workshops were during the day at the school). When I told the Head this (let’s call her Janet – she’s not!), she was not very pleased, until her depute said “she is helping us, why should she pay us!”

Earlier this year, I organised another workshop at her school. This time, 3 other schools came along too, and I did give them mineral, snack and water as it was a 2 hour affair (I’m not that mean.) I gave T and T to the other 3 schools, as they’d all had to travel a fair distance, but not to the host school – all they were providing was an empty room, so I thought that was fair enough. At the end, several teachers from the host school and the head asked about T and T but I explained my reasoning. The head seemed ok with it, I think I annoyed some of the teachers a little.

The other day – another workshop, for 3 schools, same host school. The head teacher 1. willingly provided school funds for the workshop for snacks – first time in any school; 2. did not ask about T and T – and in fact seemed highly understanding about it and 3. thanked me over and over for coming. Success!

The workshop was on phonics, and was a real success – lots of games and teachers knowing their stuff MUCH better than a year ago. = Happy Rachel.

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?