It’s been granted…

I am now a proud owner of a skilled migrant (Class VE) subclass 175 Australian visa... Don’t know when I’m leaving, going, what I’m taking, what I’ll do when I get there, where I’ll live….. but Whoop whoop all the same!!! 

Just to make things easier I’ve also enrolled on a one year on-line Post graduate Certificate in Professional Studies: International Development Practice.  Just to keep busy… hate to hang around doing nothing…..

Azonto @ soul train

Soul train is the name given to one of the local night clubs. Those of you who know me well will realise that 3 visits in 7 months to a ‘club’ is more than I managed in the UK past the age of 21. In addition, at the age of 36, dancing till 4.30 in the morning should be something I stopped years ago… it’s wrinkle inducing.  At this age I need my sleep.  Still, with western entertainment limited in the northern regions of Ghana, the club is the place for the solomeas to try and master (mostly unsuccessfully)  this Ghanaian dance craze – at least we have fun trying!  The club has a nice outside area reminiscent of clubs in southern Europe which isn’t really used, a small air conditioned dance floor inside which still manages to leave you damper than the 40 degree daytime temperatures and a very small super air conditioned VIP area which leaves you freezing.  Dancing in general in Africa is amazing to watch, both modern and traditional.  It seems that if you have black skin you possess an innate ability to dance incredibly well, but yet at the same time, in some instances, barely move.  We simply don’t have this ability on the whole. Case in point is Azonto; Ghanaians dance Azonto and volunteers (whilst trying to copy the Ghanaian standing next to them) can only manage to dance the ‘chicken dance’, adopt the ‘Dad dance’ or break out into aspects of 80’s pop dancing… it’s truly torturous to take part in…. highly amusing for the Ghanaians…just goes to show; entertainment is provided for all at soul train! 

Check out the link to see how it should be done…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8LGtRk7MEQ&feature=share

Easter in Bolga

After quite a long time down in Accra over the last month and a whole lot of travelling I decided not to travel over the Easter break. As in the UK it was a 4 day long weekend.  Thursday night Helen joined me for a sleep out on the roof.  It was her first time and she loved it… so much so she stayed the next night too.  On Good Friday we took some newly qualified moto drivers out for a long ride to Widnaba near the border of Burkina Faso.  We had intended to stay at the Eco tourist centre but the lack of water after riding for a few hours put us off.  Despite the disappointment of the lack of an overnight stay it was still a great day out. Saturday was a lazy day watching films and catching up with chores etc.  On Sunday, after another night on the roof, I went to Helens early where she and I cooked up Easter Sunday lunch for a few volunteers and made use of the luxury of the her oven – something I don’t have at my house.  It was a lovely, if bizarre mix of food with great company that culminated in painting blown eggs and making Easter bonnets in the semi dark a result of a power out due to the massive storm (there were a number of primary/wannabe primary teachers at the meal!) .  Easter Monday and everyone brought provisions for a fantastic Ghanaian picnic at Vea Dam… so pleased to have some Ghanaian friends who can cook something other than fried chicken!

The weather is hot, hot, hot at the moment, reaching low 40 degrees often. Even the Ghanaians are complaining. This is probably the reason for the Easter Sunday storm and the one we had a few days later during the night which started at 10 and finished around 3.30 (difficult to sleep with rain hammering on the tin roof).  It was huge.  Lightening was lighting up the whole sky behind the clouds and you could still see the lightning strikes despite the light being generated.  God was clearly having a disco…an amazing tropical storm. It’s so hot that being outside is a luxury you can ill afford without getting burnt, especially if there is no breeze (something of a regular occurrence here).  Even sat stationary at the traffic lights for a couple of minutes leaves you burning and wanting to rip off your helmet.  The heat is intense and hits you like a brick wall. I am constantly damp.  Sweat just pours off me, I can feel it running through my hair and trickling down my face but I’m still loving it…. and what a beautiful image to leave you with!

Boris.

Boris is a great friend of mine.   I would even go so far as to say I've fallen in love with him.  He didn't like me too much when I first arrived but like every man the love developed when I started to fill his stomach.  At first he was not living at my house, another volunteer having ‘taken him on’ but now that volunteer has left, Boris spends almost all his time at mine.  Occasionally he goes to Hananas across the road and sometimes he makes his way to Helens (his last permanent abode).  Here’s a few pictures of the infamous Boris…

Being of the canine male variety, Boris is a roamer… unfortunately roaming got him into some unpleasant difficulties ‘down there’.  He was ‘spreading his seed’ a little too liberally shall we say and got himself an infection which left him dripping green gunk from his penis… maybe I’ll leave the description there. It was at this point his custodian at the time decided he needed to undergo ‘the snip’ to curb his overactive desires to roam and, well… shag incessantly.  The Back Street ‘Vet’ unfortunately wasn’t so caring and did the procedure without any anaesthetic. Most Ghanaians don’t understand the western ways of ‘loving’ pets like they are humans… a lot of Ghanaians (in the north at least) eat dog (and cat), hence their existence is purely functional. Poor Boris had balls the size of bulls balls just a few hours after the op that grew to an even more ridiculous size rendering him unable to sit comfortably and put him off his food totally (so unusual).  When he came to visit us at our house a couple of days after the op we suggested he go back to the vets and get a course of antibiotics, the Back Street ‘Vet’ didn’t see the need, insisting ‘they will go down, they will go down’.  Luckily Boris’s custodian insisted and even managed to add a bit of blue antiseptic spray for good measure. 

He’s now fully recovered… I say fully; the experience has rendered him in possession of puppy like antics.  He chases me down the road whist I’m are riding the moto and tries to grab my trouser leg and pull me off. If it’s not too hot, he’ll even follow me to the main road, too scary for words....  Often on a walk, he walks down the road following me and out of nowhere gives a little nip on my arse or leg (leaving me bruised I hasten to add). 

He now goes mad for sticks (retrieving and returning them but not letting them go); a canny two stick system keeps the stick throwing flowing though.  Don’t even think about having anything in your hand… he will decide he wants to play with it, be it a purse, rubber glove or black plastic rubber [bag].  Even his hatred of black men has diminished, loving being petted by… well, practically anyone.  The consequence of this is of course I am now unable to be sure his title of ‘Night Watchman’ can be maintained, he’ll probably let anyone into the compound!  It doesn’t however stop Ghanaians being afraid of him, funny that most Ghanaians are really quite afraid of dogs.

I have strong feelings about volunteers having pets on their placement.  I don’t think they should (although after my recent mouse in the house infestation I was seriously considering getting a cat).  Why?  A dog is for life not just for two years.  They get attached.  You get attached. Boris won’t leave my house not because of me, (although I’d like to think it is) but because of the positive experience he has had there with the vols that have looked after him. When I came back from the Christmas break he nearly knocked me over with excitement.  So why have I ‘taken him on’ then?  I don’t have a choice (plus I secretly love it); its Boris’s house as much as mine, he knows it and he’s not a true street dog, he enjoys the loving too much.  Who could just leave him to the street (and possible plate)?  Boris follows me like a sheep, knows his name, and comes when called.  He doesn’t need a leash; if he had one I am sure he would find a way out of it for Boris has never totally lost his roaming nature and, every so often he won’t come when called; just looks back at me giving ‘A littlest Hobo’ style look as if to say, "I have to go now, but I’ll be back"… and he always does, after ’helping people in need’ like the littlest Hobo rather than… well, the alternative.  His now lack of infection in my head is proof I am right in my theory of what he gets up to! This will be a tough relationship to sever when I am the one saying "I have to go now…" but I just couldn’t stop this relationship from developing… 

2 massive meetings, Hannah and Rachel’s leaving Party a medical and 10 days of work in Accra later…

… and I’m knackered.  So ready for my bed in Bolga and the dry heat that envelops you.  Accra, as much as I have enjoyed the work is just too humid for me.

Friday, the day moto training ended I was still remotely supporting my work in Accra.  However it was an amazing 'sleep out' up on the roof with Hannah and Rachel.

Saturday brought the Regional Rep Volunteer meeting which turned out to be mammoth and much longer than it should have been.  On the plus side, Helen and I got voted in as co-regional reps for the Upper East Region.  On the down side it left me just a couple of hours to turn around a document for my work in Accra before Hannah and Rachel’s leaving party…. which was being held at our house.  The chairs we were borrowing, the food we were having made, the crates beer they had brought and the fairy lights (very important addition) had not been retrieved/gathered/placed in the right place.  There was much work to do but somehow, with the help of a few amazing friends it all got done.  Unfortunately having burnt the candle at both ends for a number of weeks I was too tired to enjoy it to the end. 

Drinks on the roof at Hannah and Rachels Party

Hannah, me and Samina

Sunday involved some very pleasurable moping of the floor (I cannot describe how disgusting it was after said party but as usual I enjoyed every bit of it – the satisfaction!).  The house was then sorted (with the help of some amazing friends who were staying), for an 8am TSO meeting on Monday which was also being held at my house.  It was organised in much the same way it was last term – this time with the country Director present.  It was again a really positive meeting and gave us time to welcome the new TSOs and share some information.  The two day meeting had been condensed to one day at the last minute as many were unable to attend day two so it was a long and full 8am-6pm meeting.  We got to know the CD a little more, who, having been frank, honest, open and proactive for the meeting and then stayed on for a beer on the roof after the meeting, made a good first impression all round.

The next morning at 4am some of the TSOs staying at mine left to catch the morning bus to the Upper West and by 5.30 Ellie B, Helen and I were in a taxi to Tamele airport ready to board a flight to Accra so we could be part of the stakeholder meeting related to the KG work in Accra I had been doing.  Unfortunately, due to DUST the flight didn’t go but we managed to get the last 3 cheap tickets on the afternoon flight and eventually arrived at the hotel just outside of Accra at 9pm… It was a long day, punctuated by a mad dash to Sunshine Salad Bar before it closed at 5pm.  As luck would have it, we made it at 2 minutes to 5 and our very hungry stomachs felt the joy of fresh salad once more.  We were staying in ‘Africa’s finest hotel,’ at least that’s what the publicity said.  Chosen because of the VIPs who were attending; not only from the Education Ministry but international experts and consultants were being flow in too.  Helen summed up ‘Africa’s Finest’ as a ’Ninja Porn kitsch’…

…Perfect description from Helen but lacks the reference to ‘too many large flying insects and maggots in some rooms’ Clearly it was perfect for VIPs… The two day workshop can only be described as heavy and long but it was great to meet the international faces I had been in e mail contact with over the previous two weeks.

Friday brought with it the unexpected joy of a medical and more salad at the Sunshine Salad Bar. I wasn’t thrilled at the thought of a medical in Ghana but necessity made it happen.  I’d finally had conformation that my Australian visa was being processed and that meant a medical was in order - in Ghana as that was my place of residence.  Luckily the Aussies are fussy and only approve a couple of Med Labs in the whole of Ghana.  The one I went to; round the corner from Samina’s place (where I was staying in Accra) just happened to be super-efficient; the process took a whole two hours less than in the UK – bonus. AND gave you pee ‘pots’ as opposed to pee ‘tubes’ to pee in.  Much more conducive to effective peeing if you ask me. 

So for some of the following weekend and the following week up to Wednesday I was back to supporting Tony at my work place in Accra; taking the tro-tro daily through one of the first slums in Accra, Nima, and experiencing the joy of traffic and humidity in Accra once more.  I’ve broken down on the tro more times in twenty days in Accra than I have the whole time living in the north.  The difference is there is always another tro going in the same direction ‘just around the corner’ in Accra as opposed to no tro for miles around in the north; and, instead of 4 to a seat it’s a much more comfortable 3 to a seat.  I even experienced a ‘luxury tro’.  Amazing seats which didn’t collapse underneath you… unfortunately I had the worst BO fragranced driver I’ve ever had to sit behind… or was it me?  Still you can’t have it all.

Back to Bolga early am to a now empty home... sad times as Hannah has now left, just very lucky to have caught up with her and Rachel in Accra before they headed home.  Here’s to a smooth dust free plane ride and subsequent ‘lift’ to Bolga; AKA Begged lift… Here’s hopin’.