“An unusual Monday you say…Why?” “Demonstrating how to put on a condom in a Muslim school was not on the cards at the start of the day…”

On Friday I was told by a Head Teacher of a local Muslim JHS school who owns the local spot that a letter had been sent by GES regarding the school projects for the municipal science clinic, the winners of which would be taken to the Regional Science Fair.  A meeting Madame Vero and I had held at the Regional Office surrounding the clinic and the Regional Fair had instigated the letter so I was fully aware of it.  The Head Teacher is a persuasive lady and she is a friend so I didn’t really want to say no.  She insisted I came to her school the following Monday to help the Science Teacher set up the projects.  Not very capacity building when I have to work over the weekend to deliver something for her to watch rather than plan it together but hey ho.  I had also planned to see the English teacher at her school to start a letter exchange between English and Ghanaian children.  I had received 31 letters from Year 5/6 at Over Primary School which were kindly sent to me by their teacher, the nephew of a teacher friend of mine.  I wanted to arrange a couple of lessons to write letters back, take photos and send them back to the UK. 

I arrived at 7.45am.  Unfortunately only one other teacher was in and it wasn’t the Science mistress, nor was the Head Teacher, so I just got straight on with the lesson after the pupil led assembly (can you imagine pupils in the UK holding their own assembly without teachers present!!) and started teaching.  It was a long session but I enjoyed it and I think they did too, getting them to think about what kind of learner they were – visual, auditory or kinaesthetic as opposed to slow, average and fast - was interesting and a great start; it enabled me to set up some really mixed groups for the project without really knowing the children that well.

I was told that I could meet with the English teacher 40 mins after the lesson ended when the next class finished, so I hung around.  Nearly one hour later and I still hadn’t been seen, so I went to see what was going on.  Form 1 and 2, a mix of boys and girls, had been combined and they were listening to a talk by a nurse on personal hygiene.  Cotton knickers were strongly recommended due to the heat and ‘lack of free flow of air in that area’.  Blades were not recommended for shaving the female pubic area (which is an expectation here) and are usually used to cut hair, instead the disposable shaving stick was suggested, much safer and ‘avoids any accidental cutting of the vulva’ (crossing your legs yet ladies?) The nurse left but the Science mistress who had arrived 40 mins after the start of the science lesson earlier that morning, decided to continue with this little discussion; presumably as she had the captive audience of all form 1 and 2. I decided to stay and bounced another teachers 3 month old baby the actual size of a nine month old on my hip whilst listening to words of contraceptive injections (very progressive for Ghana I thought) and boys deceiving girls by putting holes in condoms.  The STI conversation came up at which point I had to interject as HIV/AIDS had been totally circumvented.  The teacher then asked the question ‘has anyone ever tried to put on a condom?’  Now, I’m no expert in African culture but I know teenagers and if you ask me, kids are kids are kids wherever in the world you go.  My feeling is, a teacher asking that question of a mixed sex bunch of teenagers ANYWHERE in the world would get pretty much the same answer she got.  Utter and complete silence.  I wondered if she was born an adult and never experienced those god awful questions you get as a teenager….I reminded her of the condoms in the Science Resource Box and suggested a demo.  This was only because she had started to explain the process of how to put one on which seemed pretty pointless without the visual.  She went searching for the condom... I went searching for a banana.  Which brings about the African phenomenon which is similar to the English bus phenomenon… you know the one; when you need a bus they are never there and when you don’t, 3 turn up at once.  The African equivalent is all about women sellers who carry everything on their heads, they come to the office, they walk around town, they even walk down your street.  They sell everything.  Sitting on the roof on any one day you could potentially get all your daily needs via these women who sell all manner of goods from big bowls perched on their heads… that’s assuming you are not aching for one particular thing; as sure as eggs are eggs that woman would not walk by.  Then next day, when you don’t need the item, you will of course see 3 women walking down the street together selling the exact same thing.  Like buses they are. I couldn’t find a banana.  Someone did however find an enormous chalk board compass instead… the most phallic object that could be found in the school… which of course it wasn’t…and then of course I got asked to do the demonstration.  It’s been a while but I managed it… contrary to earlier Ghanaian experiences, this was more like putting a black man’s condom on a white man’s penis…

Morning break and Muslim prayers happened and I still hadn’t seen the English teacher for the meeting. That came 3 hours after I was originally told I should meet him.  There is no evidence of my demonstration but please see below pictures of form 1 writing to their pen pals.  The fact the English teacher at this school is just a pupil teacher and barely through the other side of puberty himself meant I had something to offer this class, which as most of you know is a huge accomplishment. English is definitely not my strong point… and as for spelling… well…

Primary students who wanted their pictures snapped just as I was snapping JHS 1 students for their letters to the UK

JHS 1 classroom

more primary children wanting their picture snapped!

the 3 month old child who is the size of a nine month old... told you.

Drafting a reply

This is the total sum of music at this JHS school.  Flies in the face of orchestras, flutes and so on that needed to be explained in the letters from the UK.  KFC, hedgehogs scootering were also completely unknown to these students and I'm not sure the chalk picture and accompanying theatrical demonstration helped with that understanding of exactly what a scooter was...

The super happy pupil teacher...and me

And so the rains come again…

On arriving back in the Upper East from Accra three weeks ago it was clear the seasons were changing; even as I rode up from Tamale you could see the land was getting greener.   The planting has now started; although there is some rule as to which area plants first (some sacred rule from way back), so even if some areas are getting rain, if the area that plants first isn’t, they have to wait.  We are now back to every possible space being farmed, even just outside your compound, and for some people right up to their gate!  It means that the animals are now starting to be tethered... this makes for a less hairy moto ride so thumbs up to this and all the barrenness has gone along with the disturbing number of back rubbers (bags) that cover Ghana along with other litter is hidden once more, until the dry season at least.  My garden took approximately two days to reach knee height (and is somewhere at waist height now) and I am still trying to find someone to hand cut the lot down, my scything skills are just not up to par. Everything grows like a triffid here.

Rain doesn’t come for long, but when it does it’s normally in the afternoon or the evening and the sand storm that proceeds the torrential rain in a good enough heads up for everyone to pack up and get inside. The aftermath is pretty horrendous.  After one, frankly hideous storm overnight a few weeks ago (I nearly ran over to Hananas opposite to sleep – read cower- as I though the roof was going to be ripped off) the destruction that was left behind was soul destroying.  All the sandy roads had changed beyond recognition, a new path had to be found through the mini river beds which had been created overnight, the sand slopes at T junctions which join the roads to enable a smooth ride had been washed away to leave a step that you have to  negotiate with the moto. The six foot wall at the back of VSO collapsed, It separates the VSO rented building from a Junior High school… imagine if… no don’t.  Some of the breeze blocks had been moved more than 50 metres by the water. Sadly Navrongo (40 min moto ride north) was hit the hardest, roofs were literally ripped off, many schools were affected and semi-built buildings (there are many here) were reduced to no more than rubble.

However, it’s amazing how green and beautiful Ghana can be and since coming back from Accra I’ve been to Zebilla, Tongo and Navrongo all in different District of the Upper East.  It’s great to travel around and see a bit more of the country.  In Zebilla I saw a primary Science Box Project which was organised by the National Teacher Association here.  In Tongo I co-facilitated a 3 day training for trainers workshop on inclusive and child centred methodologies with a VSO colleague… it went really well and we are looking forward to following up on that one.  It’s quite a big project in terms of in-service training (INSET) for the teachers in that district as it will be the basis for the Cluster Based INSET training for all the teachers in that district for the year.  In Navrongo I toured some SEN units/schools for another project I’m starting. What was most fascinating about that trip was the last school… a school where the hearing and deaf students are truly integrated.  I have to say that I never thought I would see it in Ghana and it was great to see... I guess now my job is to promote it as a model that works and try to get more ‘true integration,‘ happening in Ghana.  An interesting fact that I came across during the day was that Ghana has an unusually high deafness rate for a given population.  I am told that the majority of deafness is postnatal and often occurs because of an infection that hasn’t been treated.  Sad but true and goes to show how truly integrated our development efforts need to be; health, social welfare and securing livelihoods alongside education all link in to this very complicated web of development.  On a positive note I can now sign my name and greet in sign... with so many deaf people in Ghana it would seem like it’s just another language here but I want to be reminded less of the cockroach and mutton eating experience I had in Navrongo for fear of vomiting!

Headline news…

‘A VSO volunteer based in Bolgatanga, in the Upper East Region of Ghana has spent more than one days allowance on a box of cornflakes and a pint of UHT skimmed milk.  After 9 months of various varieties of egg or oats for breakfast this is a giant and expensive leap for the VSO volunteer.  On speaking about her recent purchase the volunteer from the UK said “I just got a massive craving for milk; think my body must be craving calcium, after 9 months with nothing more than powdered milk or ‘ideal’ in tea and coffee it feels good but I’m really looking forward to gulping down a pint of fresh milk when I get back to the UK in August.  In the meantime I’ll just have to chew a few antacid tablets.”’

This is the total sum of the excitement that is my life in Africa and not particularly newsworthy… sorry; it goes some way to explaining the lack of blogs recently.  I did however think a blog about newsworthiness in Ghana was worth writing about, for nothing less than the hilarity it brings to me.  I don’t often read a Ghanaian paper, but over the past few months I have had the opportunity and I quite regularly dip into Ghana web on the net just to see what’s happening.  Mostly Ghanaians listen to the radio to share their news but papers are a regular sight in the office or at workshops… generally because they are being read rather than work being done or actively participating.  The Mirror and the Daily Graphic are the main papers in Ghana and are on a par with our infamous Daily Mail.  Actually I would go so far as to say Ghanaian news puts the inflammatory writing of reporters and choices for ‘news worthy stories’ (literally inverted commas) of The Daily Mail to shame.  The Ghanaian English is rife in all news articles and really makes me giggle… unfortunately out loud for I don’t believe they are ever meant to be funny, just super serious.

Here are a few headline examples;

‘The Lebanese Dude And Snoopie's Report’

‘Sex:  Ghana’s best kept secret’

‘Truck runs over armed robber’

‘Dog saves baby’

It’s the language I find amusing… for example, from the article where the dog saves a baby by looking after it under a bridge; ‘….although it's not impossible that officials will find themselves presiding over a medal presentation to "Hairy Poppins" sometime soon’ and ‘…[baby] is currently in the custody of a local health directorate until new, non-bridge arrangements can be made for him’.  !!!  They can be graphic as well both in written content and photography… often if there has been a road traffic accident the carnage is described in detail including the bodies and they are not afraid to show it in pictures either. More on that later…  

They’ve completed!

A Ghanaian English phrase meaning ‘they’ve finished their exams’… In Ghana students ‘write’ exams… another Ghanaian English twist on words. ICT was the last exam and of course I was interested in this one as I had been supporting one particular Form 3 class over the last couple of months since their school received the computers through the government scheme.  I had spent 4 hours in the Afrikids ICT Academy on Saturday with  15 of the 23 Form 3 students setting up e mails and practising, replying, ccing, using hyperlinks and so on. An attempt for some last minute learning/revision before their exam on Monday.

On Monday I met them at their exam venue. Unfortunately their given room in Zamestech (the local Senior High School) where the exams were held was full of the potent smell of the open drain outside.  It would seem all of their exams had suffered the same smelly environment… I felt so sorry for them.  Many were covering their faced with handkerchiefs to limit the smell.  I admired their T-shirts they had had made to celebrate the end of their time at Junior High School (just the kind of things that would happen in the UK).

I gave them some last minute ICT reminders and some stern exam advice; namely, read the questions… you’d be surprised how many don’t.  I gathered 8 mobile phones and left them 15 minutes before the exam so they could get themselves sorted. Then I waited for one long nervous hour at the spot round the corner for them to complete the first ICT exam, just 45 minutes long and an ‘objective test’ – multiple choice.  They came out to meet me after it, full of it!  I could have been in the UK the response was identical; some worried, some not, some nonchalant, all high on adrenalin. So high they started ‘snapping’ photos and Azonto dancing which I fast put a stop too (just call me a spoil sport), told them it wasn’t over yet and to get their heads together for the final exam, (the second ICT paper – longer answer questions) and sent them on their way once more gathering the mobile phones.

By 3.15pm the bell had rung indicating the end of the final exam and the roar of elation was audible for quite some distance.  They came running back to the spot still full of it emulating very much a western response to finishing their exams, exhausted but still on that adrenalin high.  Madame Priscilla brought them all a mineral and they relaxed and chatted ‘small small’ before heading off home. It was a great day to experience, so many parallels with the UK, yet much simpler.

However, there are huge contrasts of opportunities lost, or not available for these young people…They don’t start SHS (assuming they pass) until September; this leaves them with 4 months to ‘kill’.  It’s too long.  Often they are sent, or willingly go to Kumasi in the south where they find work, start earning money and don’t come back.  Sometimes this ‘work’ is akin to slavery, and sometimes violates their rights as a child. Some find their way into prostitution, in these extreme circumstances they are often not allowed to leave by their Master or Pimp.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the majority of children who will succumb but enough for it to be an issue that needs to be dealt with.  I wonder how many of my 23 students (albeit for a short time), will pass their BECE exams.  I wonder how many will pass ICT (I hope it beats the 17% of students last year).  I wonder how many will complete the Afrikids ICT course they seemed so keen on doing during the extended ‘summer’.  I wonder how many will ‘go south’ for work.  Most importantly I worry how many will return… safe.

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!