My world travels...from Zimbabwe to Senegal

Ziguinchor, Tonsillitis, last days in Dakar

2007-05-18T07:21:00.000-04:00

The past two weeks have been uneventful in Dakar, except for the occasional (and that means every day) losses of power. My family immediately blames Wade whereas Senelec, the company that controls the power, blames it on the heat. Ironically, when all the Americans leave, the temperature skyrockets. This isn’t the first time there were power cuts in Dakar; I did a project last spring on the same problem. Of course, this pales in comparison with the twice weekly six hour power outages of Ghana, but it’s still annoying nonetheless.
I had a sore throat for about two weeks, which then turned into an extremely painful one and brought with it a steady fever. Go figure…I have a throat infection, Tonsillitis. I can’t swallow anything, which ruins my last few days in Dakar because I can’t even eat Ceebu Jen.
On the 13th, I flew to Ziguinchor in the Casamance. Why? “Deemed the longest running conflict in West Africa, the low-intensity conflict in the Casamance region of southern Senegal has raged on for more than two decades. Appearing initially as a separatist conflict with ethnic overtones, the Casamance conflict is also inherently a geo-political and socio-economic struggle as well. Separated from the rest of the country by the former British colony, The Gambia, the Casamance region has very little infrastructural ties to Dakar. Attempts by the central government to increase rice yields in the region as well as the movement of non-indigenous Muslim farmers from the north has fostered resentful accusations of “land despoilment” and the destruction of Casamancais resources with the permission of the central government. Once the country’s breadbasket, the Casamance is now the poorest and most deprived region of Senegal. The Movement of Democratic Forces in the Casamance (MFDC), the rebel movement in the region, initially fought for independence for the entire Casamance region. However, recent conflicts within the organization have fostered a split between the predominately Diola, more radical and more militaristic southern group and the northern group who is more inclined for peaceful measures and more cooperative with the Senegalese government.” I am currently working on a research project specifically looking at international aid organizations’ support of women’s peace organizations during the conflict. I have been researching for months, so when I came to Senegal and was told by the CIEE director I wouldn’t be able to travel to the region because of safety reasons, I was a little upset. Nonetheless, I was granted permission at the last minute, and I took the safest route: plane.
I stayed with the Soumare family, which made for both an interesting and rewarding experience. I was lucky to stay with Lamine Soumare, the brother of my host mother in Dakar, because he works on a female literacy class project and knew exactly where I could find the offices of all of the organizations I needed to speak with. The family was way too kind and they wanted to make me gain weight (shows they gave me a good welcoming, I suppose), so they kept giving me cashews, mangoes, bañyes (fried doughy balls with sugar), and making me eat by myself with a huge plate. I didn’t gain weight though, because I told them I can’t eat that much. The sad thing about the Casamance is it really is the breadbasket and the most beautiful part of the country. Cashews in Dakar cost one dollar for a small bag, whereas in the Casamance one has only to climb a tree, grab some cashews and their fruit, and roast them. The same thing with mangoes, probably the most expensive fruit in Dakar. The Soumare family had a huge mango tree in their yard that we used for shade most of the time and it was weighed down with all of its delicious, green fruit. There were trees everywhere, the river was beautiful, and the people entirely too nice. It’s a shame that the conflict has destroyed so much for the region.The Soumare family was enormous; I can’t even count everyone. They were spread out between two houses and included at least 3 generations. I spent most of my time with Lamine, but I got to know the others little by little. They kept telling me they were poorer than the family I stay with in Dakar, but they were richer in so many other aspects. They loved having me as a guest: touring me around town, cooking special meals, dancing and singing for me. And it was the first time I have ever been called a Toubab. One of the younger girls kept yelling, “Toubab, xoolal!” (White person/Foreigner, look!) I kept telling her that I wasn’t a Toubab, but it didn’t stick. Maybe she hasn’t ever seen a white person (a real Toubab) before… Lamine blessed four pens for me and my brother to write our exams and blessed me as well (his father was a marabout), which made me feel particularly special. I was sad I only stayed for three days, but I made promises to return, inshallah. Photos here: http://elon.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2047028&l=ecc00&id=18203484

It's been a long time...

2007-05-08T09:02:00.000-04:00

I just realized that I hadn't written anything in almost a month. And a lot has happened since rural visits, so bear with me.
I will start with this past weekend and go backwards.

Cinco de Mayo fete on ile de Ngor: Since everyone is leaving this weekend (except a few of us) we decided to have a large party for 5th of May and also as a going away ceremony. We made mexican food (as mexican as we could get without tortillas or taco shells) and I made a well praised mango cobbler. The house had two bedrooms and there were more than 35+ of us who were intending on sleeping there, so to say the least we stayed up really late and had to get creative on sleeping situations (I slept on a couch frame...without the cushion...ouch) then we had french toast for breakfast and chillaxed on the beach until it was time to go home. Making the cobbler. yum.

Friday, final CIEE dinner: We had dinner as a group with all of our professors and directors of the programs at a restaurant called Gormondais Africanes. Serigne, our awesome director, even hired the best band in town, Orchestra Baobab, to serenade us. We danced up a storm (and so did our crazy profs), showcased our student talent (dancing, drumming, singing) and then went out for ice cream afterwards. It was really sad though because Serigne and Victoria were talking about how we were the best group and were such good students and people and it made everyone sad.
Me and Victoria at the dinner.

Tuesday, May 1 TOUBA!!: Touba is a religious town that is really significant for the Mouride brotherhood. Their spiritual leader, Cheikh Amadou Bamba, lived, worked and died in this village. He was exiled by the French colonial government because of his anti-colonial stance, but this had little negative effect on gaining devout followers. Baye Falls, a sect of Mourides, can be seen all over Dakar and Senegal (they wear multi-colored quilted outfits; they are hard to miss). Every year, 48 days after the Islamic New Year, there is a huge pilgrimage to Touba celebrating the day Bamba returned from exile. Millions upon millions of people crowd into Touba to celebrate (I referenced it during my spring break blog; it was the reason there were no cars going anywhere in Senegal except Touba). Touba itself is an interesting ville…the Senegalese government does not regulate the city, the current Marabout owns all of the land and distributes it only to Muslims, there is no drinking or smoking or dancing, and no hotels or French schools. And it is home to the largest Mosque in West Africa. Babacar (Andrew) and I got dolled up in our best Senegalese attire, headed to the gare routiere at 7am and took a sept-place to Touba (a little less than 4 hours). When we arrived, Andrew swore he could see the mosque “just ahead” so we started to walk. Of course, I wasn’t wearing appropriate shoes for walking long distances and the mosque was not just ahead not to mention the lack of sidewalks in this country (just sand). We finally got to the mosque, took off our shoes, and commenced to wander. Since we are not Muslim, and Andrew stands out like a sore thumb, we were quickly stopped before entering rooms we were not allowed to go. We found a tour guide who took us around to the various parts of the mosque. There is a well, the spring of Mercy, which we drank from despite warnings about drinking un-treated water. It was salty. I think our tour guide took us into parts of the mosque we were not allowed to go, because there was one time in the grand library that he tried to sneak us in and a man already inside started yelling that Andrew wasn’t Muslim and the guide was yelling back, yes he is because look he changed his name. And they were pushing each other and there was a lot of yelling. It did not really involve me because, as a woman, I was not allowed to enter. That was frustrating…Everywhere we went I had to enter through another door, or walk in another direction that the guide. I couldn’t shake hands with any of the men and had to keep my hair covered at all times. The mosque itself was incredible. I was awe struck by its beauty and intricacy. Every room was elaborately decorated but not overly done like some Catholic churches I have seen. The mosque is over 100 years old, but it looks shiny and brand new. Beautiful Arabic scrolled across ceilings and doors and the serenity of people in prayer or meditation was touching. It was an amazing experience. We hooked up with the Islam class from CIEE for lunch at one of the Marabouts’ house and free transportation home. More pictures: http://elon.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2045497&l=f0832&id=18203484

April 20 – 22, STOP BUSH FIRE!: Our environment class went on an overnight weekend excursion to Toubacouta to examine the effects of bush fire on the area. We visited three villages and talked to the locals about their use of fire for agriculture and whether or not they believed that they were the reason for the destruction of the environment. Many of the villagers “swore” that they didn’t use bush fire, but how ironic was it to walk outside the village and see burnt ground? They did know that un-controlled bush fires destroy the food for their livestock, kill valuable trees necessary for shade, and ruin their attempts at raising bees for honey production. We taught some local kids who wanted to tag-a-long with us our mantra that we stole from a Gambian film, “STOP BUSH FIRES!” Inshallah, they will take that home to their parents and actually will stop destroying the landscape. Pictures: http://elon.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2044356&l=50032&id=18203484

April 19, Daara: With the education class, we went to a daara in Pikine. A Daara is a Islamic/Arabic school, but here they are sort of a money making venture for the Marabouts who run them (now of course, this is not always the case; there are decent daara’s but our teacher wanted us to see one that was far from decent). Half of the students hit the streets in the morning to beg for rice, sugar, and money. The other half stay to recite and memorize passages from the Qur’an. They can write in Arabic and read it, but they do not understand the context of the passages. They only learn the Qur’an and nothing else, which is sad because many of these students will never have the opportunity to go to school and learn science, geography, history or math. They slept on mats outside, rarely bathed, and descended on food as if they did not know where or when their next meal would come. The Marabout would keep the majority of the money earned and give the kids about 300 CFAs of it (a little more than 50 cents). Many of the children were ill and had skin disorders, but the Marabout said he could not afford to take them to the hospital. If they did not study or if they danced, the talibes were beaten by the Marabout. We asked them if it hurt and if they cried and they responded in the affirmative. All of the talibes were far from their parents who were in Touba. But this Marabout wasn’t bad at all; his brother, who had worked at this daara before, had tied up a talibe for more than two days and was run out of Pikine by the neighbors. A question I had that was never adequately answered was how this Marabout, who was proud to announce that he had four wives, supported all of those in his family and the children if he supposedly only kept a little of what the children begged? He didn’t appear to be hungry like his students…
I am done with classes, exams and papers Alhamdulilah. Now, I am just preparing for everyone leaving and the two trips I am making before I finally return to the U.S. I am going to Ziguinchor, Casamance (Southern Senegal) the 13th through the 16th and then Cape Verde to meet my mom, grandmother, and cousins May 19th through May 29th. I bounce back to Dakar for 24 hours and then depart for les Etats-unis May 30th.

My Obsession with Civil Society in Africa: Rural Visit and work with APROFES

2007-04-16T14:14:00.000-04:00

NOTE: PICTURES OF RURAL VISITS AT LEFT; THERE ARE TWO LINKS.

CIEE organizes a week of rural visits where the students can decide whether they want to stay with a Peace Corps volunteer or stay with a local NGO in a rural area of Senegal. Most of the students opted to stay in the “bush” with the PCV, but I was really torn. The question was, when would I ever have the opportunity to stay in the bush? But I chose to go work with an NGO because A)they were doing sweet things for women in the region and B) I am obsessed with civil society/NGO/Non-profit/Grassroots development in Africa. So, on Monday I and three other girls headed to Kaolack to work with APROFES (Association pour le PROmotion de la Femme Senegalaise). Kaolack is about 3 hours away, whereas most of the PCV kids had to travel 8 hours plus to reach their destinations.
First impressions of Kaolack: It was HOT! When I got to my host family’s house, the conversation consisted as such (directly translated from French/Wolof):
“The heat here is bad.”
“Yes, it is hot.”
“Sure is.”
(The power goes out)
“It’s hotter now.”
“Yup.”
“You want this fan? Because it is hot.”
“Okay.”
“Is it hot like this in your country?”
“I don’t know, I think so.”
“Because it is cold in Dakar. This is bad heat. We can’t walk down the street, we can’t go anywhere but stay here. You want to take a nap?”
“Okay.”
And that was pretty much a daily occurrence. I would wake up, have breakfast, head to the APROFES office, then to a village, where we would “Noppalu” (rest) during the hot hours which meant us laying on someone’s bed or couch and sleeping, and then head back, all the while complaining about the heat.
My host family was two brothers, 15 and 10, and a 25 year old sister who is my twin (we both have jaay fondey and are left handed), my host mom, Bintou Sall, who worked at APROFES with the micro-credit union and a host dad who worked for the salt processing company.
About APROFES: first, let me give you some background on my obsession with developing Africa from the bottom up. Working with CDD in Ghana and now APROFES makes it so clear to me that the best system of development on this continent is through active civil society organizations like those two who are dedicated to correcting the poverty and corruption in their respective countries. Who better to develop a country than those who live there and actually have a stake in the outcome? Granted, organizations like these need the funding and capacity building from the West, but they are the ones that know how best to use the money to actually effect change. Okay to APROFES. Their primary objectives are the promotion of women’s rights, establishing women leaders in various spheres, providing access to health resources and information, giving women economic power and reducing violence against women. They work with community based organizations, directly with the women and children of villages, victims of violence, women leaders and entrepreneurs and their established credit mutual and health mutual. A brief list of their projects: sensitization projects on AIDS/HIV and women’s rights; capacity building for women’s organizations in the region; training sessions that range from leadership and advocacy training to functional literacy courses; microfinance projects; a health insurance program; alternative energy and other positive environment programs; and prevention projects through awareness about violence against women (which includes Female Excision practices). They have many financial partners, mostly European and Canadian, and technical partners like regional and national women’s networks. They work thoughout the Kaolack region as well as Fatick and as far as the Casamance. (In other words, they are AMAZING)
We went to a conference hosted by a regional network of women about women in politics and the idea of equity and a presentation in a village for the 15 days of women celebration. The first village we went to, Kacathe, was the location of a farming co-op that had been funded through microfinance credit and capacity supported by APROFES. They were growing mangos, okra, eggplant, peppers and onions in the small perimeter. It was about 10 years old with 39 women working plots. The women use the produce for their own homes and also sell it on market day to the surrounding villages. The men help, but it is mostly the women who are doing the work here. They all benefited from APROFES’s sensitization programs, workshops, and literacy classes in Wolof. For more evidence about how successful and great micro-credit systems are, look at this village. They received 15,000CFA ($30) per woman in loans from APROFES. The established the farm, cultivated peanuts and, through the sale of their produce, turned that 30 bucks into $120 each and together bought horse carts and sheep. Now each woman has about 57,250CFA ($115) in their savings and the loans have been paid off.
The second village we visited, Ngane Ndiougou, also had a farming perimeter, but it was much larger and had another plot close by. They were also cultivating trees for re-forestation projects and had just started a program of raising bees for honey production. Their farming co-op idea was actually from the youths of the village who came up with the proposal to take to the micro-credit mutual provided by APROFES. In this village we met the chief and provided the villagers with entertainment as we tried to dance to their drumming. Here I also had the best attaya, which I realized I never mentioned before on this blog. Attaya is strong green tea with lots of sugar served piping hot. It is not easy to make actually; it requires skill at pouring and mixing just right so that it is all frothy on top when served in shot glasses.
The third village we visited, Ngathe, generated income from a very different source: by collecting salt from a lake in the area. Every fifteen days the lake dries up and the people move to another location to collect about 500 kilos a day of salt which is then sold to a Senegalese organization that cleans it. This is the only source of income for the area during the dry season and there were a ton of people out there, ankle high in salty water. We tried out the whole salt cultivation thing, but it was tough because there was so much salt that it was sucking our flesh dry and made walking quite difficult. There are salt plots that the villagers can purchase for $30 where the water evaporates faster and yields more salt. It was very strange seeing all this salt out in the middle of nowhere. APROFES assisted this village with education programs using videos and theatre troops as well as through micro-credit loans.
So even though I wasn’t “out in the bush,” I had an amazing experience. I learned about the effectiveness of APROFES’ programs (for example, through education, the number of child birth deaths dropped 50% in one village where they worked). A bakery started by a women entrepreneur with funds from APROFES was flourishing (and we would know, because everyday we had something from the bakery). My host family in Kaolack was hilarious, welcoming and comforting, and the girls I traveled with provided good company as we discussed how in love we were with APROFES and how we were going to help APROFES save the world. So in other words, my rural visit was well worth it.

Birthday photos

2007-04-16T14:02:00.000-04:00

Pictures

one: that is a crepe with stuff on the inside.

two: that is me at the reggae night party after dinner...I love Bob :)

three: the mousse with the candle and everyone singing.

Electric Sliding, What is Literacy?, Sine Saloum, Marabout fun

2007-03-30T11:51:00.000-04:00

A lot has gone on since I last wrote. Pictures are to the right and I also posted the link to Lizzie’s Spring Break pictures, because she took better ones than me.
The Saturday after spring break was International Student Day at Suffolk. All of the students at the University prepared food from their native countries, displayed traditional clothing and dances, and also participated in a talent show. Lizzie, Andrew and I made chocolate chunk cookies, which tasted kind of funny, but they were still good. Another professor brought cheeseburgers (Senegalese style though…which means they had a huge egg on top). Countries on display included Nigeria, Burkina Faso, Senegal, Mauritania, Benin, Ethiopia, and the Gambia. Our “American” dance was the electric slide, haha. In the middle of the talent show, a pretty famous singer came to perform his extremely popular song “Blocaz.” He invited a bunch of people on the stage to do the blocaz dance with him; it was a lot of fun. Much later in the evening we went with him to this very nice discotheque.
The following week my Education and Culture in Senegal class went to an adult literacy class on a field trip. The class consisted of maybe fifteen women over the age of forty and who almost all held jobs as a vendeuse (seller). They did not speak French and their first language was Pulaar (Fulani in English), but they could also speak Wolof. What I found most incredible was the fact that their literacy class was not in the National language (and therefore most written and utilized language in the country) of French. Instead the women were learning to write Fulani, a language that has only been written down for 60 years and in which nothing is written in this country. Our class was faced with this conundrum: what is the point of learning to write in your native language if it isn’t the language that signs, newspapers, etc. are written in? One classmate of mine said it was difficult to learn an alphabet, so it was better for them to learn the alphabet of their own language before moving on to French, which is foreign to them. Yes, this would make sense if there were adult literacy classes in French, but there are not. Most of those women will live their entire lives without ever learning French. Another classmate said, well at least they will be able to recognize letters and numbers on street signs. But does that really help? At the beginning of the literacy class, the women repeated the saying that those who are illiterate are lost and do not know themselves. Perhaps the literacy course is only to empower these women, whose children probably speak French that they learned in school. The women will be able to better handle their commerce through having the ability to keep documents of sales and balance the numbers, as well as help their children with their homework to some extent. I also think it is a pride thing; the Fulani are a large group in Senegal, but Wolof is the most wide spoken language. Through teaching literacy classes in their native tongue, they are protecting their culture and language.
Last weekend we went to the Sine Saloum delta. That is where the Saloum River meets the ocean. It was a most relaxing trip; we took a pirogue down the river, a horse cart tour of the local village, and got to chill on the beach. Saturday night we went to a traditional wrestling match. The pictures aren’t very good (there wasn’t much light), so you are going to have to use your imagination. Think Sumo wrestling, but with thin, muscular black men (in other words, the only thing the two have in common is the little thong/underwear thing they wear). There were many participants in this particular match, so the ones not wrestling walked around the circle and danced to the drumming and singing. It was quite a spectacle; especially when our lovely “toubabs” joined in the extravaganza. Three boys and two girls from the USA wrestled Senegalese people in the middle of the match. All of the boys won and one of the girls defeated her opponent quickly.
Finally, on Wednesday of this week we went to visit a Marabout in Madina. Marabouts are religious leaders in the community and the one we visited, Thierno Madu Tall, was one of the top Marabouts who oversees many Marabouts below him. We were entertained in his enormous sitting room, the same sitting room, he proudly told us, where he had just meet with the Israeli ambassador. We discussed almost everything under the sun: how many wives he had (two, but always was considering a third), his role in the community (he blesses all weddings and funerals and people come to him for financial advice or even to ask him if the mate they have chosen is right for them), his opinion on beating children (he believes that adult criminals were not beaten in their childhood, so the students under his care are beaten), and of course, his thoughts on talibes begging for their Marabouts (he said it was practical because the parents abandon the children in the Marabout’s care and the Marabout cannot take care of all of those children by himself, so they beg to re-pay their teachers; however, Thierno said he does not have talibes begging for him). It was a rare experience because he was not surrounded by his “posse” and was able to answer all questions honestly, even though he did have a very round-about way of avoiding the questions at times.
My birthday is next week, and happens to coincide with Senegal’s Independence Day celebrations. This Saturday we are going to a water management plant for environment class. The following week we will be going on our rural visits to stay with either NGOs or Peace Corps Volunteers out in the bush. In other words, my time is flying by really quickly! There are only three weeks or so left of class, five weeks until I go to Cape Verde, and two months until I come back to the U.S.

Family Pictures

2007-03-19T06:32:00.000-04:00

Here are some photos of my family: Baba (4), Nene (11), Samba (14) and yaay, Diodio (25) and Sona (18)

More like an Adventure than a Vacation (and another reason why I love West Africa)

2007-03-12T06:01:00.000-04:00

While many people probably embark on a relaxing spring break ours consisted of: two flat tires, a horse cart, station wagons with more than 20 people inside and on top, non-existent roads, monkeys and bird watching, hitch-hiking and lots of Europeans. A vacation it was not, but we did get to spend an incredible time touring rural Gambia and Senegal and getting to know the locals. Before I begin my tale, I want to inform everyone about the country we visited: The Gambia is a former British colony that is smack dab in the middle of Senegal. The British wanted the river that traverses through the Gambia and refused to cede it to the French, even though it wasn’t a very productive colony. Thus, the Gambia is only slightly larger than Delaware, Not even 15 km wide. The language is English, though we found that most people in the rural areas did not speak English, but Wolof, Mandinka, or Fula. The official name includes “the,” so I always say “the Gambia.”

Pictures: The picture above is a map of where we traveled. The picture to the right is the River Gambia in the morning time, its pretty. The three pictures below are Bush Town, flat tire on the way to Velingara, Village en route from waterfall.

Day one: From Suffolk we head to the station to catch a sept-place (a station wagon that can fit 7 people…normally more expensive than a mini-bus, but slightly more comfortable) from Dakar to Kaolack. Here there were very persistent hawkers and drivers who poked and harassed while we waited for the car. It was a 3.5 hour drive to Kaolack, where we were harassed again by drivers and then when someone “helps us” they expect a cadeau (gift). Then we took a ndiange ndiaye to some village, where we were marauded by boys with horse carts who took us across the Senegalese/Gambian border illegally, I am pretty sure, because there was no border post that checked our passport when we arrived in Farafenni, The Gambia. The only reason we got stamps was because we asked for directions at immigration. It didn’t feel like a different country…the people looked the same, same religion, same landscape, Wolof, but the difference was there were people who spoke English. It was weird.
Day two: We left the hotel in search of the bank, where we thought there was an ATM…lo and behold, the only ATMs in the entire country are in Banjul at least 8 hours away! We crossed the river to get to Soma, where we waited a long time for a car to leave for Kwinella. Once at Kwinella, we realized that it was impossible to reach Tendaba camp where we were staying that night. We tried to hire a donkey cart (but they wanted $6!) so we preceded to just sit and wait. Lucky for us, a man who worked for the National Treasury with an air-conditioned car stopped and offered us a ride to the camp. Tendaba camp was expensive- being a tourist location- and was the first place we ran into difficulty because we were only two people. In order to participate in the safari or bird watching tours, we had to either pay for the other four people (i.e. 10 bucks per person) or we had to join an already existent group.
Day three: Thus, we took a bird watching tour on the river with four older European couples who were avid bird watchers. It was a boring trip, because all we looked at was “rare” birds that the couples excitedly checked off their lists. But the landscape was nice-savannah and mangrove swamps- and I guess some of the birds were too. We got a free ride back to Kwinella from the hotel, but waited three hours for a car to drive by to take us back to Soma. During that time we made friends with some of the small local boys who wanted our empty bottles, pencils, rings, anything that we could give, and taught us Mandinka, as well as performed dances and songs. The road to Soma is entirely pot-holed… Lizzie said “it’s got to be bad when it’s better and easier to ride on the side of the road and not on it.” We got stuck once and I flew out of the seat a couple of times. It was a pretty ridiculous ride, but the sad thing was that most of the roads were like this throughout the Gambia. Once in Soma, we crossed the river again to Farafenni, where I bought a drink at the ferry stop and was attacked by bees, and we stayed the night again there.
Day four: We try to head to Georgetown and are stopped by a man in a car who was handing money out to the talibes. He said he is headed in that direction and can give us a ride, but first he has to run a few errands, give him five minutes. We waited two hours, sitting next to a woman who was selling beef sandwiches for breakfast and spoke to us in Wolof, and finally decided he wasn’t coming so we would find a car there. But luckily he drove up right when we started to leave. His name was Jean and he was a half Senegalese-half Cape Verdean engineer who was part of the team working on the road on the northern bank of the river. He bought us some drinks from the shop, and we headed towards Georgetown. In the car he had a dvd player blaring Senegalese music, and he tells us that he is a salsa dance teacher in Banjul. All along the road he gave things to the people: sandwiches, drinks, money. He said that it doesn’t matter how much you pray, but what is in your heart. When his men were working on the roads, he had his cook make them all lunch and bring it to them, out of the kindness of his heart. He was also very cordial with all the police we passed. En route, we decided to check this village the book lists called Kuntaur where you can rent a boat to visit this Baboon Island. Kuntaur was far from the beaten path, but when we arrive we discover that the book was more than way off on the price…they wanted fifty bucks for the boat, six times more than what the book says! We most certainly didn’t have that kind of money, but Jean tries to help us out by discussing the price with the men, who tell us perhaps we can get a cheaper boat at a “nearby” village. We drive literally for 30 minutes away from Kuntaur through rice fields, savannah, and on dirt roads, to find that these boatmen also will not charge less. It was very nice of Jean to drive us all over creation for this stupid boat; afterwards he dropped us at the ferry stop for Georgetown where two local boys attached to us and tried to get us to stay at their hotel, which wasn’t cheap. After this we tried to get to Georgetown, but the boys were determined to stay with us. We went to the Governor’s guesthouse on recommendation from Jean, which was about $10/night. We searched out the Forestry Department to find a tour somewhere, but found some Danes with no shirts on who didn’t speak any English and a German woman who ran the forestry department who told us about these two parks we could visit for about $3 bucks a piece. We chilled at a “bar” with no beer, and got to really get to know some local guys who talked about development, politics (how women should be the leaders in Africa because they are more sympathetic to the problems of the people), and the owner of the restaurant, feeling bad because we didn’t have much money, offered to make us dinner if we bought the supplies. This was very welcomed because it was the first time I had eaten in three days. Finally shook off the men who were with us the entire day to sleep at the Governor’s residence.
Day Five: left governor’s residence after 8 hours of no power (and it was HOT) and walked to the southern ferry port. Here Lizzie got yelled at by a man for taking a picture of some rice fields where some inmates happened to be working. Lucky for us, this little confrontation brought the attention of some Swedish NGO workers who gave us a ride from Georgetown to Bansang in their nice vehicle. We took a boat and crossed the river again to this village Bush Town which is protecting this stretch of forest that we wanted to tour to see some cool animals. We saw some monkeys, the guide saw a snake, and a couple baboons, but overall it was kind of disappointing. The tour guide and his brother invited us into their hut and talked to us about how hard life is. One boy said he wanted to continue his studies but the school fees were too much for his family, even though he tried to contribute by making money ferrying people back and forth across the river. We crossed the river again to find a car to Basse Santa Su, but got a flat and hung out in a random village for a couple of hours. Once in Basse, we waited a long time for a car to cross the border to Velingara, Senegal. The car, a truck with a covered bed with two benches, ended up having more than 20 people crammed inside and riding on top to the border. Once at the border we changed to a car…no I wouldn’t even call it that because it was pretty much just an engine with the remains of a body that barely functioned. Twenty people plus in this car as well. From Velingara we took a car to Tambacounda (at this point it was 7:00pm but we didn’t want to get stranded in small town Velingara, so we risked it and traveled at night).
Day six: Took a sept-place to Kedougou (four hours, a crappy road) where we discover that there are no cars going to the waterfall in Dindefelo (the main reason for us traveling here) until Sunday. We would have to hire a 4x4, which would cost $80. Thoroughly frustrated from not seeing anything, we moped around Tambacounda and found some guys who enjoyed discussing various things with us and took us to a restaurant and a hotel. Tambacounda and Kedougou were ridiculously hot…over 100 degrees of heat that doesn’t make you sweat, but presses down on you like a ton of weights and dries out your eyes, nose, and mouth. It was also very dusty everywhere and we were always coated in a nice layer of brown.Day Seven: We were ready to go back to Dakar; we got nothing done because we were only two, and all we did was travel from village to village without actually seeing anything other than rural Senegal/the Gambia. Complaining to one of the hotel employees, he became determined to help us find a way to the waterfall. He found us a car to Dindefelo (how I don’t know, because there was only supposed to be one on Sunday?) and said we could catch a ride back with these two Italian guys who had rented a 4x4 with his friend. The road to Dindefelo was TERRIBLE and of course we got stuck. As fate has it, the 4x4 with the Italians drove by while we were stuck and we hopped in there with them (paying $20 bucks each) and headed down the non-existent road to the fall. The two Italian men didn’t speak English or French, but we didn’t really need to talk to them as we hiked up the trail to the waterfall. It was mostly just a trickle, but it was rewarding because we finally got somewhere.
Day Eight: Got up early to head back to Tambacounda with the Italians and a Senegalese guy who was headed to Dakar. In Tambacounda we discover that because of the Magal (a religious pilgrimage to the birthplace of the Mourides (a Muslim sect) ,Touba, on March 8…apparently it is a huge deal and all of the cars were headed there instead of other cities) there were no cars going to Dakar. Determined to get back that night, we got in a car to Kaolack at the hottest part of the day (100+ degrees), and one of the worst roads in Senegal, and arrived at Kaolack around seven. Found a sept-place headed for Dakar there, another four hours, and FINALLY made it to Dakar, safe and sound.

The best part of our spring break was talking to these local guys…many of whom were extremely intelligent (one guy knew seven languages, most self taught) but couldn’t afford to go to University or expect to do anything except stay at their villages. Many were able to use their talents as tour guides for foreign visitors (such as one guy who was practically fluent in Spanish in Senegal) or to work with local NGOs, but they constantly discussed how difficult it was to find jobs in their respective countries. Everyone was always friendly and offering to help us out (for example, from Kaolack to Dakar we met a Gambian woman who told us the next time we visit to call her and we could stay at her house). I got to see a lot of rural areas, savannah and dry landscape, and a ton of tiny villages. It made me wonder if it is possible to keep rural/village life intact in Africa while improving and developing the lives of those that live there. Apparently the only Americans that go to the Gambia were peace corps volunteers…actually there are more peace corps in the Gambia then in the whole of Senegal, which I thought was interesting. We met two at Tendaba who had mixed reviews of the program.

Election 2007

2007-02-23T06:07:00.000-05:00

***Note: As of 9:00pm, Sunday February 25, Wade had won the election. This blog was written before the declaration.***
So this weekend is a very important event here in Senegal: the 2007 Presidential Elections. The current President, Abdoulaye Wade, was elected in 2000 and he is 84 (maybe 87) years old. A lot of people are not happy with him; they accuse him of corruption, not doing enough for the people of Senegal, especially when it comes to development, creating jobs, and improving infrastructure. My host sister, on the other hand, loves him and has been working on his campaign for the past few weeks. She rides around on a truck, wearing his colors (yellow and light blue) and a picture of his face on her t-shirt. He has a campaign song, Blockage, so when you hear that song blaring you know that his campaign parade is coming. The rest of my family does not like him, but they can't tell me who would do a better job. An interesting aspect in the elections is the role popular rap artists play. In 2000, they supported Wade because they wanted a regime change, and this was reflected in their music. Now, they want to get rid of him because he isn't doing what they had expected him to do. check out this link: http://www.africanunderground.com/ for more information.
Wade is supposedly trying to maintain power by purchasing voter id cards, by not widely distributing the cards (900,000+ people did not receive their cards before the elections, meaning those people were not allowed to vote), and perhaps rigging the military elections last weekend. It was the first time that the military was allowed to vote in the entire history of the country, but many think that Wade only wrote this into law to “guarantee” his victory. Friday night there was an enormous rally near my house on the VDN highway. The whole road was blocked, the adjacent neighborhood shut down, and the music blaring from the speakers could be heard miles away. My youngest siblings ran down to the extravaganza, donning Wade t-shirts, flags in his colors, and posters. My older siblings, all of whom dislike Wade except one, grabbed the little ones, because of the fears of violence. These fears, unfortunately, were not unfounded. Last Wednesday night there was a clash between the followers of a particular Marabout who is supporting Wade and a group of anti-Wade protesters. The clash was violent, a few people seriously injured, and took place in an upper class part of town (our neighborhood). Cars were burned, and a popular ex-pat restaurant, La Regal, suffered serious fire damage as well. The vendeur across the street and I had a lively discussion about the politics: he supported Wade in 2000, but said that nothing has changed in the past seven years. He said essentially everyone running was just a croonie who wouldn’t do anything for the general public. My sister’s boyfriend, a fervent political follower and quite good with English, gave a speech for another candidate on Saturday: one of the few candidates that wasn’t part of the Wade government or a politician at all - he is a history teacher at UCAD and is supported by the students there as well. As this is written, the believed fore runners are: Wade, Niasse (Alternative 2007), Tanor (Socialist Party), and Idrissa Seck (the former prime minister under Wade). Of course, these are only perceived front runners, because the government doesn’t allow polls to be published. Everyone agrees that this election is truly up in the air, which puts both a hint of fear and distrust in the general populace. The worry about fraud and fixed elections is why everything is shut down on election day, there is absolutely no travel between cities, and probably a curfew. My family went to vote early this morning, and have pink fingers to prove it. The majority of my family voted for Tanor, except Diodio. Baba, my littlest brother, is parading around the house shouting “Abdoulaye Wade!”
What I think is most interesting about this situation is three fold. First, I find it amazing how much praise this country receives for being “democratic” when there has only been one democratic election in its entire 40+ year existence. Not to mention, it is well known the rampant corruption of the current regime and there is rumor that if Wade wins, he will pass power down to his son, extremely un-democratic last time I checked. Not that I am bashing Senegal…but I think that the West is quick (maybe too quick) to reward developments in African “democracy.” Second, it is interesting, though a bit depressing, how much contempt the populace has for all politicians. My family can tell me all the reasons why Wade sucks, but cannot tell me who would do a better job. Every time we watched campaigns, my family would laugh at what the candidates were saying, telling me that all they did was “parle, parle, parle;” They have ideas, but no suggestions of how they will be implemented: empty promises that many Senegalese recognize. Third, despite this discontent, the candidates did do a great job getting people riled up in support. Each candidate had a song that they blared as they cruised the streets in caravans led by car rapides with people inside and on the roofs, followed by trucks/cars full of clapping, singing, identically dressed supporters (most of whom were probably paid to campaign). My youngest siblings ran outside during campaigns and helped put up posters in town. Fervent supporters marked out the faces of candidates on campaign posters – one of which displayed Niasse as a devil – while others just covered up rival candidates faces with their candidate’s picture. Boys on rollerblades with bright orange t-shirts handed out pro-Idrissa Seck pamphlets; my sister brought home tons of Wade paraphernalia to distribute to the family.
Being here as part of a historical moment in Senegal is a great experience. Granted, most of us didn’t leave our houses this weekend; I didn’t really think there was the chance of violence. I enjoyed staying in; my family and I made delicious crepes and some other fried doughy, sugary mass called bañey.

Trashy Stories, Mirror dancing, et autres choses

2007-02-19T05:52:00.000-05:00

note to Anna: Lan ngay wax Wolof? means Do you speak Wolof?, in Wolof.

On Saturday we went to the trash dump (the only one for the entire Dakar area) for environment and development class. Land fills are all over the world, used by countries as a way to store material waste. However, this particular area, Mbeubeus, is both interesting and disturbing. More than 300 trucks dump trash (all kinds of trash that hasn’t been sorted) a day at the dump where 800+ people call home. That’s right, there are people living in the dump. Their houses are actually in the midst of the trash. Most of the people that live there sort the trash in order to make a profit on what they can find (i.e. re-sell glass bottles back to companies, plastics to be recycled, weaves to be re-made into useable hair). It may sound like a good system of recycling, until you realize that toxic and industrial trash is dumped here as well, putting the people at extreme health risks. The doctor in the village said that many people come in with respiratory diseases and infections from cuts that they received sorting through the muck. We were wearing masks, but we could still smell the stench and possibly the toxic air that these people breathed in every day. There was absolutely no state management of the dump; there were places where the trash was stacked three to four times our heights. Right beside the mountain of trash were cultivated fields. The trash itself pollutes the water table which in turn affects the vegetation around, let alone the drinking water of the population. I won’t forget when we walked past a stream of multicolored liquid in the middle of the dump that was on fire. That wasn’t water, folks. There was a boy who was 13 years old and who had been sent by his parents to Mbeubeus to work, alone, five days a week. He was supposed to send money back to his family. There were little girls, barely 8, sifting through stacks of old clothes and carrying bags of garbage to be sorted. It was dusty; it was smelly; we had no idea what we were stepping in (or on). What was most remarkable to me (besides the people working in the trash dump) was the amount of trash a city can make. When you throw something in the trash, you forget about it. It gets picked up by a truck, and you never think about it again. But it has to go somewhere. It really makes you realize how wasteful society is. And here they recycle everything from clothes to plastic bottles before they throw it away, so to see that much trash…it makes you think what a landfill in the US is like (though we have decent recycling plants and there aren’t people living in dumps, but still).
After that we headed to a depression where people are living. A depression is where the land has fallen and is very close to the water table. This is a very unsafe place to live because depressions are very susceptible to floods. But, because of this, it is very cheap land. We saw a house which had been flooded recently and been overrun by vegetation. The water is a murky green because of a high concentration of nitrates, which are harmful to humans. Just outside of the village were about two dozen tents: for the refugees that had lived in the village but had been flooded out. Because of higher amounts of water in the village, malaria and cholera are huge problems. People have to keep re-building their houses because the water destroys them or they sink into the depression. To say the least, this is not a good situation.

Saturday night, we went to a discotheque s’appelle Nianey. It was a lot of fun, minus the slow techno music, but it was also an interesting experience. First, there were these mirrors, and I could not understand why people were dancing, by themselves, in front of the mirrors. It was like, can you be a little more conceited? Haha. Second, let’s discuss Senegalese music. It’s different from dance music in a couple of ways. There is the singer, who is usually singing slowly. Then there is the music played by the guitar and keyboard, which is the same rhythm as your typical dance hit. But then there are the drums. They are out of control majority of the time, making their own beat that doesn’t really match up with the rest of the song. You’re real confused: do I dance to the singer, which would mean extra slow, or do I try to keep up with the drumming or what? And Senegalese dancing is the entire body, involves a lot of movement, and many times jumping, which is definitely a workout. And for some reason, always when Senegalese are dancing in music videos, they have this huge grin on their face and make it look so easy to make your legs and hips do impossible things. We try to mimic, but I don’t think we have it down quite yet.

Pink lakes and turtles, “the gathering of white people,” parlez-vous français? Lan ngay wax Wolof?, L’école primaire de Point E

2007-02-12T08:12:00.000-05:00

So, I realized that I haven’t written on the blog in a long time and much has happened. First, some more interesting cultural elements of Senegal. Walking down the street in Dakar, you will surely be approached by a small boy, often in ratty clothing, carrying an empty can or bucket and reaching to you with an out-stretched hand. At first glance, you think it is just your run-of the mill beggar, ignore, and walk on. However, you would immediately notice that the boy doesn’t pursue you, which is not normal of regular beggar behavior. That is because this boy is not an ordinary beggar. Called Talibes, these boys are innumerable on the streets of Dakar. They beg because their Islamic teacher, a marabout, forces them to. This system used to be one that was meant to encourage humility while these boys learned the Qur’an. They would beg, understand life as a beggar, take the money back to the Marabout, who was entrusted to feed, clothe and take care of these children by their parents. But today’s world is a different story. Parents give Marabouts their sons because they can’t afford to take care of them. The Marabout in turn uses the boys to make some spare change for himself, often leaving the children without regular meals or clothing. He often will beat the child if they don’t make a certain amount per day. So what do you do? Do you give them the money, that only goes to the Marabout and continues this horrible trend, or do you give the child some food, hoping that he can make the 1,000 CFA ($2) so that he doesn’t get beaten when he goes to the Marabout? I often give them food, which they are very grateful for, but this is a serious problem that the government of Senegal should be attempting to eradicate.
Eventually I will post an entire blog on Islam in this country, which I think if very interesting. In the meantime, you can enjoy reading about various travel experiences I have had. Last weekend, I traveled with three other CIEE students to le village de tortues, turtle village. It is a park that is for turtles (and tortoises) who are injured or endangered in the wild. Only an hour from Dakar, you can definitely get a feel for the drier, savannah like landscape of Senegal. There are tons of Baobab trees (giant trees who, as one CIEE student put it, look like they are turned upside down: huge roots, thick grey trunks, and a fruit whose juice tastes like coconut) and lots of tall grasses. We then headed to Lac Rose, via a pick-up truck on a dirt road. Lac Rose is this huge, extremely salty lake. It also is the final destination of the Paris-Dakar rally. It is pink because of the interaction between bacteria and oxygen. You could reach into the water and grab a handful of salt. We watched some of the locals extract the salt from the lake and make huge piles on the sides for drying.
Superbowl Sunday I went to a wedding party, which reminded me of the typical American wedding party (bride in white, bridesmaids in matching dresses, too many pictures being taken, small snacks). After the party, I went to the Marines’ house to watch the Superbowl, good times. This past weekend we took a group excursion to Toubab Dialow, an artist’s village on the petit cote, about 1 hour south. The village’s name means “the gathering of white people” because the Portuguese used to come there often to trade. It was therefore ironic that there were 35 of us “toubabs” showing up. I took a batik class (painting with wax on fabric to make cool designs and wall hangings) and lazed around on the beach. We then ate a three course meal, followed by a performance by the drumming and dance groups. The subject of the interpretative dance was immigration – the story of a Senegalese man trying to get to Spain via a small fishing boat. This is particularly pertinent, especially if you have been following the news (1000s of Senegalese have attempted to get to the Canary Islands in order to work in Spain, often in tiny canoes and if they make it to shore, they often get turned back). We then sat around and had deep, intellectual conversation on the problems with international trade, capitalism in Africa, top down versus bottom up development policies, education policy in the US, and the lyrics to “smack that.” (note: Akon is a rapper quite popular in the US; his songs include: I am so lonely, locked up, and Smack that. He was born in Senegal and his father was a popular Senegalese singer, which everyone here is quite proud of.)
Things on the political front are getting pretty heated. My sister has a yellow shirt and hat with a picture of the current president and she often attends his rallies. On the other hand, everyone else in my house doesn’t like President Wade, but they can’t tell me who is a better candidate for president (they say often “all they do is talk, talk, talk. Politicians say a lot, but do nothing.”). The former Prime Minister, Idrissa Seck, (who Wade ousted and put in prison without trial for embezzlement) is running under a new party, and he is supposed to be pretty popular. There are a ton of candidates (26), all bashing the past seven years under Wade, but not offering any solutions to Senegal’s biggest problems such as unemployment. Last night I had a lengthy conversation with my brother about politics in the U.S., auto insurance, and issues in the African-American community (he said that he heard there was a lot of black on black violence in the US). I was pretty proud of myself as the entire conversation was conducted in French, haha. I am finding it easier and easier to express myself, even if I don’t know the words (for example, I didn’t know the word for greedy, so I said “when a person has a lot of money but they want it only for themselves.” He totally got what I was saying). The Wolof is coming…I’ve got basic greetings down, and working on my vocabulary and verbs. People keep trying to have full blown conversations with me, but I only know simple stuff. My mom would love for me to speak it fluently so we can have a decent conversation (her French is not as good.)
I am volunteering/doing research at a local elementary school for my Education and Culture class. It is a public school, and working there makes me see how many things we take for granted in our education systems in the US. For example, the teacher hand writes all the exercises in students’ (30) notebooks because they don’t have printed sheets. Chalk and chalkboards are used by all of the students. They share writing utensils, desks, and seats. Students in the first grade are anything between 5 and 7, but sometimes even the occasional 13 year old. Their levels vary from some able to understand the numbers of syllables in a word to others who can barely write, or speak, in French. They are taught only in French, not their first languages, and are smacked or slapped for messy handwriting (my class, first years, were supposed to have mastered cursive). The teacher is allowed, I think, to smack students with chalkboards, slap the desks with yardsticks, and spank children for misbehaving. The students are all very respectful (they stand and say “Bonjour, Madame!” when I walk in the class, “Au Revoir, Madame” when I leave). They go to class from 8am to 1pm with a thirty minute break. They learn songs to practice their French and conjugations. The classroom is bare except for the chalkboard, the desks and a few posters on the walls. No book shelves nor a fan nor lights, students keep their bags on their back for the entire period, a bucket of water and a sponge serves as their erasers. But to think, this is one of the better schools, as most classes only have 30 students (versus the possibility of 80+ in other public institutions), and the teachers and headmaster seem to be genuinely committed to their students (the headmaster was able to obtain a few computers for the “library” that students can use). Hopefully, my volunteering will benefit some of the students, maybe the ones that have fallen behind.

Senegal versus Ghana: A generalized comparison

2007-01-29T09:07:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: I am going to make a lot of generalizations in this particular blog, but I want to paint a picture of what I can see are the visual, cultural, climatic, etc. differences between Accra and Dakar. Hopefully, no one takes offense to anything I may comment on.

Climate: At the current moment, it is very chilly in Senegal (I’d say 70s, which is cold if you ask me). I have had to wear long pants and long sleeves to bed every night. I think that this is because of the dry season, but it is a lot colder here than it ever was in Ghana. It feels more beachy here than it did in Ghana. We are like right on the ocean, too. Because of this, there is sand all over the sidewalk and it feels much dryer (i.e. I have to put lotion on my ashy legs everyday) than the humid Accra.

Education systems: We visited the Université de Cheik Anta Diop (the largest one in Senegal) last week. Apparently, the school is hardly in session due to strikes by students or professors. Sometimes there will be whole years (termed “année Blanc”) where the students never go to class because of the strikes. Also, the students have to pay tuition to the university, but often they get scholarships based on their performance on the extremely difficult baccalaureate tests in high school. The test is hard because there is only so much scholarship money and/or room at the university for the students. This is quite different from the university system I encountered in Ghana. There are three large university campuses (and a host of smaller, training institutions) – University of Cape Coast, University of Ghana, and Kumasi University of science and technology. There is no tuition; instead students pay fees and have to essentially pay back the government through the national service required to be completed after the student graduates.

Dakar vs. Accra: Dakar is much cleaner than Accra. I can see why it has been called “the Paris of West Africa.” It seems like Dakar was a planned city; laid out a certain way to avoid urban sprawl and with all the government offices located together. It also has green spaces, gorgeous statues, lovely town squares (like La Place du indépendance). This is much different from Accra – open sewers, trash everywhere, no rhyme or reason to lay out, sidewalks covered in people selling their products, etc.

Political system: Comparatively, Senegal has been more stable politically than Ghana. There have only been three presidents, no coups, and for the most part, those three were democratically elected. The presidential elections are coming up in February, but they should be pretty secure and stable, excluding protests and rallies. Still, Senegal is a poor nation that sees thousands upon thousands of its young male workers illegally immigrating to Italy, Spain, France. It also still is dealing with the political strife in the Casamance region.

Transportation: There are more options in Dakar when it comes to transportation. Your choices are: a DDD (the equivalent to the metro buses in Accra; government run, large buses with a fixed rate. Sometimes you will get a seat but most of the time you are standing in the aisle), a Ndiaga Ndiaye (pronounced Jaga Jie) which is most similar to a tro-tro (a large white van with seats rigged in the aisles, a driver and a mate.). One difference is that there are no side doors on the Ndiaga Ndiaye, only front or back doors. The mates often hang out the back. The other mode of transportation is the car rapide. These are highly decorated vans (painted yellow, red, and green, with Wolof and Arabic phrases all over them, and with ribbons of various colors hanging from the back, sides and mirrors). In many ways similar to the ndiaga ndiaye, these car rapides don’t have glass in the windows, they have benches instead of seats, and every time I have seen one, there is at least two people hanging out the back door. In a tro-tro, one would never stand up. In a ndiaga ndiaye and a car rapide, standing is the norm. Also, in a tro-tro, one is guaranteed their own seat. In a ndiaga ndiaye or car rapide, someone else’s butt may be in your lap. There is also the taxi, but these are the same as taxis in Accra.

Every day life: Hawking is less prevalent in Dakar than Accra, but it is still there. Tigo, a phone company in Accra, is also used in Dakar.
In Senegal there is something very intriguing called a “joking cousin” (suma kal). These are people who essentially make fun of others, all the time. For example, if your last name is Ndiaye (which is my last name here) than your joking cousin is the Diop. When you meet a Diop it is expected that you make fun of them in some way. It isn’t serious; it’s just sarcasm and petty jokes (comme ca: "Diops eat too much, they are lazy, etc.) However, if you don’t make jokes, that is considered offensive. There are also joking cousins among ethnic groups i.e. the Peulhs versus the Wolofs. The government used this popular cultural practice when they were attempting the peace process in the Casamance, using the joking cousin of the Jola people to encourage resolution.
Many people speak English, which was a bit surprising, but if you think about it, not really. Many students learn some English in school in hopes of migrating to the U.S., teens listen to American songs and to cater to tourists, vendors know the basics (“please, miss, come look at my items. How are you? I am fine.”) The U.S. embassy is much more heavily guarded here than in Accra; tons of barriers and a ton of gendarmes (police) patrolling the area.
Stuff is a heck of a lot more expensive here than it was in Accra. (500 cfa = about 1 dollar). Juice, for example, costs more than a dollar for a tiny bottle. Fruit is a lot more expensive as well (orange in ghana = less than a nickle, in Senegal = 20 cents), but we get a stipend so it’s okay.

Interesting info: Wrestling (la lutte) is more popular here than soccer. The sport is very traditional, with sumo wrestling-esque diapers and a huge circle. Two lutteurs battle it out as such: first they slap each other, girl fight/cat fight style. then someone throws a punch, and it's on. There is a lot of grabbing,kicking, punching,and then finally the winner is able to throw the loser down on the ground. I watched a battle yesterday with my host family and they were really into it, yelling, taunting the opponents, excited.

Une Semaine et ma famille

2007-01-21T10:58:00.000-05:00

Well I have been here in Senegal for one week. The first five days were all orientation…which was annoying in many respects because they were telling me things I already knew. Not to mention, I think learning from observation and experience is better than just being told about the culture. For example, we spent like two hours talking about the way men will approach women to express their love. I feel like once it happened to you a few times, you could figure out what men do when they approach you (i.e. “what’s your name? your number? Your address? I love you.” Etc.) But some of the orientation was beneficial, such as the Wolof sessions and the information about Senegalese values.
Friday I moved in with my family. It is a very big family:
Dio-Dio (Jo-Jo) – 25 years (ma soeur). She is studying tourism. She also speaks a little English, which comes in handy when I am having communication problems. She also knows some Italian.
Uzin – 24 years (mon frère) – makes really delicious Senegalese tea (which is very strong and has lots of sugar. It’s a cultural tradition; it takes special practice to make it.)
Ndeye – 21 years (ma soeur) – A really sweet girl who hates to follow the rules in Uno.
Souba – 18 years (ma soeur) – Also knows some English but is studying Spanish at school as well.
Samba – 13 years (mon frère) – likes football and loves to play Uno. He was able to explain the rules of the game to the rest of the family, so we play often.
Nene – 10 years (ma soeur) – Full of personality, she reminds me of a little diva.
Baba – 4 years (mon frère) – wishes he can play Uno with us, but is completely satisfied as long as we include him in some way (he loves to yell « Uno » randomly and say my name and start giggling)
And ma mère – Yaay – really kind and outgoing, always asking me if everything is okay.

There is also another girl living with us, but I haven’t gotten her name (Rabah, I think). I also met my uncle, Tonton, yesterday. My father is in the military. We have three goldfish and a parrot. It’s a very nice house, located in Comico 2, which is where military families live. I am about 15 minutes from Suffolk where I will be taking classes. And I think I can totally get used to bucket showers. ;)
All the ladies in the fam are gorgeous and the men are cute, which only goes to show how the people in Senegal are. The tv is always on: either on music videos from all over the world, soap operas from Brazil and Spain, news programs from Senegal or foreign films ( I have watched one from India and another from Japan). They also love watching movies, whether they are dubbed or with subtitles (they have watched at least three of the American movies I brought from home already). The tv is on when they clean, eat, play cards, just as background noise. This will take some getting used to, but listening to French tv all the time may improve my comprehension skills.

Yesterday we went on a tour of downtown Dakar as a group. I can’t reiterate how much I hate being in touristy groups, so needless to say, it was quite bothersome because we stood out so much. After that, I rested a bit, then headed to the Suffolk soccer field to play a friendly game of football. We, the CIEE girls, played against the Suffolk girls’ team and got beaten 2-0. Nevertheless, it made me realize how much I missed being out on the field, and I am going to see if I can train with them and play on their team. My brother, Samba, went with me to the game, so that was fun (he helped me learn crucial words in French, i.e. goal, kick, referee).
Later, I will write a blog comparing my experience here to my experience in Ghana. One thing off the bat is “la nourriture” (food). The Senegalese food actually has taste and isn’t overly spicy. They also use more ingredients, delicious sauces, and a lot of baguettes. Often they serve fruit as dessert after a meal. It was really funny when the other students in CIEE learned that we would be eating with our hands out of bowls. After various Fufu/Kenkey experiences in Ghana, I was a little doubtful about the Senegalese food experience. But, the food here is much better, there isn’t some sketchy soup and sticky, doughy material, just rice or couscous or bread. You sit on the floor, minus shoes, wash your right hand, and wait until your host digs in. Then you can eat out of your side of the bowl, making sure to not reach into the middle. The meat and vegetables are in the middle, so the host distributes these evenly to the rest of the eaters. When you are finished, you can burp to say you are satisfied, or say “Net na barima” (it was good, I am satisfied). You then get up and wash your hands (this has been difficult to do with the host family because they want you to “mangez!” a lot, so you kind have to really be firm or just finish all your food).
One thing my host sisters love for me to talk about is my “jaay fondey.” This means “big butt.” The Senegalese want us to gain weight and have a “jaay fondey.” I am going to take a dance class, play soccer, and perhaps join the local gym in order to not gain a larger “jaay fondey.”

je suis arrivee...

2007-01-15T12:59:00.000-05:00

I got to dakar yesterday after more than 24 hours of travel. I flew from RDU to LGA taxied to JFK flew to Madrid overnight then from Madrid to Dakar and arrived after 10. Immigration was a hassle to get through, but at least all my luggage arrived with me. We were (30 something kids) all picked up and taken to the hotel where we will be staying for this week of orientation. Today we met up in the lobby then walked to Suffolk University's Dakar campus. This is where we will be taking our classes. Suffolk here prepares African students for a degree at the Suffolk in the US. Most of the students speak French as their first language, so they have an exchange program where we help them with english and they help us with french.
So you ask about French...well, to be honest, I have said very little in French. We are mostly focusing on acquiring much needed Wolof language skills. The greetings here are very elaborate. Here is an example: Justine -Saalamalaykum (peace be with you) Senegalese person: Malaykumsaalam (and with you). Justine: Nanga Def? (how are you, in wolof) Senegalese: Maangi fi (I am fine). Justine: Naka waa ker ga? (and your family, how are they?) Senegalese: Nunga fa (they are fine). and then you ask about work and other things. And its rude if you dont greet people you know, everytime you see them. You always respond in the positive, you don't rattle on about your bad day. I can't remember the greetings, so i better start practicing.
I move in with my host family on friday, tomorrow we have the french placement test (yikes), and we start wolof courses tomorrow as well. There are a lot of kids who are really good at french, but there are also alot that are on my level, thank goodness. Everyone seems really interesting and nice, and pretty genuine about their interest in french language improvement and senegalese cultural understanding. I will post again soon!

tomorrow....

2006-12-19T04:20:00.000-05:00

Well, my semester in Ghana is drawing to a close. Tomorrow I will leave the hostel forever at 4:30pm, head to the airport and leave Ghana at 11:30pm. Sad times...

The last few days I have just been rushing to finish things up before I leave. We have also been going out a lot on people's last nights in town. Indian food twice in one week, Italian restaurant, the Baze bar, Tyme Out on campus for Chinese. Saturday I had lunch at Prof's house with the other CDD interns. Sunday I went to Tema with my roommate to visit her family. It's interesting how cyclical life is...when we first arrived in Ghana, the dorms were empty, the campus a ghost town because we arrived two weeks before registration. Now, since we are leaving four days after the semester has ended, we are once again the only people on campus. Night market has even ceased to function except for a few stalls. The silence in the hostel and campus is deafening. I am not packed yet, I have not finished souvenir shopping, and I still have a long list of things to do before I leave. Hey I still have all of today and a lot of tomorrow. ;)
I will be spending almost 18 hours on a plane, which I am not looking forward to. In addition to that I will be spending two hours in London and four in JFK. I will be home more than 24 hours after I leave, but hey I will have a good book and a host of movies to select from on the British Airways flight.

Things I won't miss about Ghana:
1. Open sewers
2. the honks of taxi drivers
3. sweating all the time
4. no water
5. no power
6. men harassing you (I love you, I want to marry you, etc.)
7. pepe
8. men urinating wherever they please
9. being woken up in the middle of the night by my over-studious roommate
10. hand washing clothes

Things I will mos def miss...to be continued I am sure
1. Tro-tros
2. Lights out as an excuse to hit the town
3. Puuuure Water
4. Plantains
5. "oh! eh!"
6. a nice cold shower after sweating all day
7. music blaring everywhere, especially Celine
8. walking to where you need to go, and people staring
9. Night market
10. Burgers or Snappy's groundnuts
11. Kelewele
12. hawkers
13. "i'm coming."
14. the friendly people
15. cedis
16. traveling on weekends

I am running out of internet time, but I will probably think of more to add to the lists...

Why I love Ghana part 2: Kumasi

2006-12-12T11:14:00.000-05:00

Last Wednesday was my last day at CDD…I can’t believe I will be leaving in one week! I still have so much to do!

Friday, We left ISH around 9 to the STC bus station to catch a bus to Kumasi. The next bus, however, wasn’t leaving until 4, so we had 6 hours or so to kill. So, Karen and I found a used book store, bought some classic literature for two bucks, then sat in the Paloma Hotel’s air conditioned lobby until 4. We left Accra at around 6, got to Kumasi around midnight. Stayed in the Guestline lodge right around the corner from the STC bus station, slept in a dorm room with an Australian girl and a Scottish girl for 55,000cedis per bed (which is kind of pricey, since the fan didn’t work).

Saturday, we left the hotel around 8, and following the map in the Bradt guide, began to walk to the cheaper hotel in the center of town. Travelers to Ghana will soon know that the Bradt guide is horrible, especially the maps, so of course, we got lost wandering around Kumasi, but it was okay because we got to see a lot of the second largest city in Ghana. Our hotel, Nurom Annex, was nice for 70,000cedis per room, very centrally located and had a nice clean toilet. We called the Anglo-Ashanti Gold Mines in Obuasi to see if they were open. They didn’t answer the phone, not at all a surprise, so we decided to head there to see if they were open to give “free” tours, according to the Bradt guide. We take a metro bus for about an hour south of Kumasi to the mining town. We get to the reception a little after 12 to just find out that the visitor’s center had just closed, but come back Monday for a tour! So we head back to Kumasi, check out the cultural center and Prempeh II’s museum there. We then attempt to check out the Ashanti sword, which is stuck in the ground at the place where the golden stool fell from the sky and if it is removed from the ground, the Asante empire will fall. The sword is on the grounds of this hospital. When we enquired about the sword, they said it was closed. Feeling pretty unproductive, we consult the Bradt guide map again to make our way to the Asantehene palace, Manhiya. In order to reach the palace, you have to either cut through or circumvent Ketjita market, the largest open air market in West Africa. And let me tell ya, I have never been somewhere so overwhelming before in my life! It was around 5, so it was extremely crowded with millions of people pushing you, pulling carts full of stuff, dragging sheep through the crowd, driving and honking in their vehicles, there was little to no sidewalk to walk as people were selling goods on the walkways and shouting prices at you (10,000 10,000 for shoes). I can’t even count the number of times I was wedged between people and a stack of crates, between a moving vehicle and the open sewer full of …. I didn’t feel like I could escape the hordes of people in the market. Whoa, it was insane! Not to mention, we were walking in the wrong direction to reach the palace, so we had to turn around and were fortunate enough to circumvent the petrifying market, but we never found the palace. We ate dinner at an Indian owned restaurant, Vic Baboo’s, which was really delicious and not too pricey.

Sunday, we got up and headed to Ejisu, Yaa Asantewaa’s hometown, to visit her museum and the shrine she prayed at before going to war with the British. We walked about 2km down the road to the shrine, which was small but interesting with a funny little man as the caretaker. We then went back to Ejisu and began to trek the 2km to the Yaa Asantewaa museum. According to the Bradt guide, it was a small orange building to the right of some cocoa boards. We saw a building that was orange but didn’t have a roof, and I didn’t see any of the so called cocoa boards, so we kept walking. A man in a car pulled up and asked what we were doing. We told him we were looking for the museum, and he said we passed it, get in he will take us there (now, I know we aren’t supposed to get into cars with strangers…but, he seemed okay). When we arrived at the building we had passed, he told us the building had been destroyed by a fire a few years back. He asked us where we were going next, we told him Lake Bosomtwi, and he said coincidently he was headed that way, he would take us. The lake is in a crater created by a meteorite. It’s pretty sacred, you aren’t allowed to use canoes on the lake, you can only use a piece of a log and paddle with your hands to fish. The man, Maxwell, hired us a tourguide who showed us around and told us the legend of the lake. We then ate lunch at one of the lake resorts. Maxwell said he would like to show us around and took us to a Kente weaving village, Bonwire. It was overwhelming as well, since it is the most touristy Kente weaving village in the Ashanti region. We pretty much got assaulted by boys trying to make bookmarks with our names on it or sell us a piece of Kente. Maxwell then brought us back to our hotel, problem-free.

Monday, we get up early to head back to Obuasi, but the bus took forever to arrive at the station, so we waited an hour, then it took an hour to get there. Upon arriving at the visitor’s center, we were told that we needed a car to take the tour (not a taxi, a car). Since we didn’t have one, we were kind of disappointed. We told the security guard our troubles, and he said that when he closed at 12, his brother would bring a car and he could drive us as long as we paid the petrol. We were very excited about this prospect, so we waited for Budu to close. He told us that we would need to get a guide from the visitor’s center, then we could leave. We went back to the visitor’s center, and the woman told us it would cost $15 USD per person, to have a tour guide. We were like what the….? Bradt guide said it was free, and we most certainly didn’t have 15 dollars to blow on a tour. Extremely disappointed at the waste of time and effort, we headed back to Kumasi. We didn’t have enough time to do anything before we had to be at the STC station at 4, so we headed there to wait an additional 2 hours for our bus (STC is never on time). When the bus arrived, it was an ordinary bus instead of the luxury bus it was supposed to be, which is fine by me for a couple reasons, A) no A/C at full blast, B) its cheaper. But apparently the Ghanaians were not happy about this. They really wanted A/C, so our bus only had five people on it. We each stretched out in our own row for the 6 hour drive. It was extremely bumpy (the Kumasi-Accra road is horrible and under-construction for the majority of the ride) and I was almost thrown from the seat a few times. We got to Accra at midnight, to darkness in the hostel, so we just went to bed. I love Ghana because, even though our plans failed, there was always a nice Ghanaian there to help us out.

Updates on campus life: for the past two weeks or so, we have felt the effects of water rationing the rest of Accra has been suffering through for months. The girl’s bathrooms rarely have water, so you either go to the boy’s (which apparently isn’t very acceptable by the African females) or all trek downstairs where the whole floor is girls, so there is a girls’ bathroom. We also were spoiled because we always had lights due to exams, but recently they have been taking the power a few nights, because of the rationing. I also learned that it is a kind of taboo for girls to eat at night market, as it shows that they can’t cook for themselves. They are supposed to be discreet about it, if they order food there, and get it take away. I always wondered why only Obruni females were sitting out there eating…

Autumn in Ghana: Tales from the North

2006-11-29T06:01:00.000-05:00

Saturday the 18th of November: We arrive at the STC bus station a little before 8 for the bus to Tamale that is supposed to depart at 9. Of course, we don’t leave until 1pm. It was the “ordinary” bus, which means no A/C, no loud Nigerian movies (more on this later), and the dreaded middle seats. These are seats rigged in the aisle that have backs that are permanently reclining and are mighty uncomfortable for a 12 hour bus ride. And lucky us, two of our four seats were middle seats. We tried to rotate, but someone always got screwed with the middle seats. I was really uncomfortable because I was having some sort of allergy/sinus attack and was sneezing/blowing my nose the entire trip. We stopped four times: once about 2 hours outside of Kumasi at a very nice rest stop with a restaurant and nice clean toilets, once in Kumasi with okay toilets, once in Sunyani (I didn’t get off the bus, but it looked nice), and one last stop in Techiman. The toilets in Tamale were the worst I have yet to see in Ghana, and that’s saying a lot, I think.
First and foremost, it was Freezing on the bus once the sun went down. I tried my best to bundle up, but its hard to do when all you have is t-shirts and a skirt. We arrived in Tamale at 2am. It was too late to get a hotel room, since the bus to Mole left at 4, but too early for the bus. So, we found some nice benches and slept until the bus arrived.
Sunday the 19th of November: It was a bumpy ride to Mole, but we were so exhausted we didn’t care. It was a long dirt road that ran through the savannah. Actually, I felt like I was in East Africa or some other country other than Ghana, haha. It just felt so different! We stopped in Larabanga, which is where the oldest Mosque in Ghana is located. Twin brothers run this hotel in town and they gave us a tour of the village and mosque and took us to a place where we could eat some rice and eggs. We also met the chief of the village which was cool. From here we took a taxi (which was a big hassle; the brothers wanted us to take bicycles or motobikes with them, but there was discrepancies about prices and whether or not we were getting ripped off or not) to the actual park. We sat out on the look out which is right above the two main watering holes in the park and saw elephants bathing and a ton of deer like animals as well. It was really relaxing. The hotel was nice, 70,000 per person per night, which is the most I have paid for a hotel here, but it was nice with our own bathroom and a fan and a pool. Unfortunately, I learned that the age old rhyme “sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite” was something you should actually wish for. Our beds for filled with bed bugs so we were all covered with tiny red bumps that itched like no other for a few days after the stay. At least the beds were comfortable, right? What was weird was the temperature change. It was extremely hot during the day, yes, but at night it got really cold. There were a ton of warthogs that wondered around over the park and many times they would appear out of nowhere in front of our room in the dark and scare the crap out of me.
Monday the 20th of November: We got up at 6:00am for the guided tour of the park. We hiked down the hill to the water hole, didn’t see any elephants, hiked some more, saw some monkeys and antelope type animals, no elephants, saw a ton of army ants making a highway of sorts, but still no elephants. We hiked for two hours and the guide was disappointed about elephants. As we started to climb back up, we saw two elephants in the bush. We rushed down to take pictures of them, so we were really close, which was cool (of course, my batteries picked this time to die, and I stupidly didn’t bring any extras). We went back to the room and slept, during the hot middle of the day hours, then chilled that evening.
Tuesday the 21st of November: Woke up at 3:30am to catch the 4am bus out of Mole back to Tamale. Tamale was a very dusty town, but it wasn’t too bad. I did notice a lot of beggars, but that is probably just a trait of big cities anyway. From Tamale we took a metro bus to Bolgatanga (four hours) which is in the Upper East Region. Bolga, as it is fondly called, was different from Tamale. It was drier, number one, and I could feel my skin dry up and my throat and nose become parched. That is a big change from the extreme humidity that plagues us here in Accra. Second, it wasn’t as hot and it actually felt a little bit like fall. Leaves were even falling from the trees, so it felt only appropriate we were celebrating Thanksgiving up north.
From Bolga we took a metro bus to Zebilla (one hour, stood up the entire time). When we got to Zebilla it was market day, so we went in search of fresh bread, vegetables, and other necessities for the next three days (market is every three days up there). Unfortunately, we couldn’t get any eggs (apparently in the dry season guinea fowl and chickens don’t lay eggs…what kind of crap is that??) They speak Kusal in Zebilla, so we picked up a couple of words, such as hello (tima tima). Maura, who is the reason we went to Zebilla, is doing research on well water and ground water and soil (she is doing geology research on a Fulbright). We stayed in the former MPs house with his neice, Emilia who is a seamstress, and another graduate who is working on a clinic in Zebilla, Katie. The former MP wasn’t there, of course. It was a really nice house with running water, electricity, an oven, and a t.v.
One way I could tell we were not in a large city was the reaction villagers had towards me. First, they asked me where I was from. When I said the US they asked why I wasn’t white, or how I was black. In fact, they were really confused most of the time (“So…she is African?” “No, American, African American.” “But she’s black?” or “If you are American, why are you black?”). Then they asked me why I was fat. I am not sure how to answer that one. I have started taking it as a compliment…haha.
Of course, because I am a dork, I talked politics with the people in the house. Haruna, who helps Maura out by giving her rides to her wells on the motorbike, believes that NDC will win the presidential election in 2008 and change the constitution so that Rawlings will be president for life. He contends that President Kufour has done nothing for the North; only helping out the rich south. ( I am not going to bore you with my extreme interest in Ghanaian politics, but I just want to note here that the North and the Volta region vote as a block for NDC, Rawlings’ party. It is really interesting, because the parties have no platform difference; they are just divided along ethnic lines. AND if you didn’t know, Rawlings was a military dictator for 18 years who killed a lot of people, but was charismatic, held democratic elections in 1992 and stepped down after serving two terms which is admirable, I guess, and he also did a number of good things for the country…its one of those, which is worse type questions.) Also, to keep along the politics line, I went to Parliament the week that we left to go up north, which was really cool, especially because we got to see the budget for 2007 (as in the budget for the entire country) as proposed by the party in power. NPP, the majority, were all shouting and excited whereas the minority, NDC, was sitting quietly on the other side of the room. The minority leader called the budget a “monotonous soliloquy.”
Back to Zebilla.
Wednesday the 22nd of November: We got up and headed to Tongo, one of the villages where Maura is monitoring wells. It is interesting…there is a reservoir, where a dam stopped a small stream to make a small pond that people use for washing. The reservoir affects the ground water which is used to provide water in wells. During the wet season, the wells are full, but soon the wells will dry up. Maura is trying to look at whether the wells near reservoirs have water longer and also looking at the type of soil that is around the wells. Water access is really politicized; chiefs will request a borehole (a covered well with a pump, which is more hygienic and safer than an open well) in their village, but will want it built right by their house. A mechanic in town has been monopolizing the equipment to fix wells and has charged ridiculous prices to fix it with old equipment. He actually accused Maura of tampering the boreholes and she had to go in front of the district assembly to tell them she is not there to do harm.
The best part of Tongo was the four hour donkey cart ride. All of us, four, couldn’t fit on motorbikes, so we hired a donkey cart, which traveled at the same pace as us walking, but was fun nonetheless. The funniest part was the stares we got from the villagers (imagine, a bunch of obrunis on the back of a donkey cart which is supposed to not have human cargo…).
Thursday the 23rd of November: we bought two guinea fowl…which one of the guys in the house had to kill and pluck (yuck). We roasted them in the oven, mashed potatoes (they were purple and really sweet), roasted some vegetables, and had fanta for Thanksgiving dinner. We had no bake cheesecake for dinner. It was cool. The people in the house called it the “food holiday.”
Friday the 24th of November: Karen and I headed back to Bolga around 12:00pm. We boarded the OA bus, which was much nicer than STC, right on time at 2:00 and left around 3pm. When we got to Tamale, we switched buses, and this is when the Nigerian movies started. The first movie was about a woman who was in a love affair with what appeared to be an 8 year old boy. The Ghanaians loved it; it was a comedy that kind of made fun of African American “thugs”, but really made the little boy the hero. After this came one about a girl who treats her mother and sister as a slave (I fell asleep during this one). Around 2am we started watching Terminator. The bus was, no joke, 30 degrees. The A/C was on full blast. My teeth were chattering. We were wrapped up in sheets, it was so cold. We got to Accra at 6, took a tro-tro to campus, I went to sleep for a few hours, and then started studying for my finals.
Finals: As of now I have completed two out of three “papers.” The first one, conflicts in Africa, wasn’t bad at all, just a lot if writing and a lot of information. I was a little worried about the second one, African Literature, but it wasn’t too bad. Two and a half hours to answer 2 or 3 questions that are extremely broad and I hate to write so it was not fun. I am glad they are over with, though.
Sorry about the length of this blog, I tried to keep it short. I have three weeks left in Ghana…and a ton of stuff to do!

What's in the News?

2006-11-13T09:08:00.001-05:00

I thought I would inform you about some things that have been going on in Ghana since my arrival in August.
P.S. New pictures are up on the Ghana webshots link to the right.

Graduate Teacher’s Strike
In September, the graduate teacher’s of Ghana went on strike. Graduate teacher applies to those who graduated from university, not a teaching college. These teachers teach Senior Secondary School (High School). The strike is an appeal for higher wages (they make less than $200 a month). Last year the nurses and doctors went on strike, but the strike didn’t last long because people are dying. The government quickly complied with the doctors (bought them some cars, too) but the compliance is much slower with the teachers. Its really only hurting the students, who are in public school and missing classes but will still have to take the entry exams for university at the end of the year whether they had class or not. Classes are still held at public schools and some teachers are having private night classes for a hefty sum. Those who can’t afford either of these options are not going to school at all. It’s a sad story.

The Cocaine Scandal
This particular story has dominated the front page every day since August. It all begins with a ship that came into port with 17 kilos of cocaine. When they inspected the ship, all the cocaine was gone. People who have been accused/suspected range from the police and security guards at the port, sailors and even the Asantehene’s name has come up.
Rawlings’ Attempted Coup
President Kufour accused former president/military dictator JJ Rawlings of attempting to stage a coup against the current government. He said that Rawlings was in cohorts with an un-named oil rich country to get funding to stage the coup. Rawlings called Kufour an idiot for thinking that he would do something like that. They don’t like each other. Hopefully Rawlings doesn't stage a coup...although he is really liked in certain regions of the country, despite is human rights violations when he was in power and his lack of democratic rule until 1992.

China’s New Imperialism
If you have been following international news, you would note that last week China had a series of meetings with African leaders about absolving debts, investments, and development endeavors. Ghana was one of these countries, where China has promised to participate in a number of development projects and invest in technology development. Hopefully, this isn’t a one-sided exchange, where Ghana gets nothing and China gets everything.

Tofu, a minority again?, No turtles, the harmattan, the police

2006-11-13T08:57:00.000-05:00

Thursday night, we went out to a vegan restaurant near circle. It was delicious; primarily because of the lack of oil and fried food. I had tofu kebabs on a pita (essentially pieces of tofu with seasoning on brown bread) and half of a garden salad, with real vegetables and three different kinds of peppers. It was like heaven. And I am not even vegan. Haha. A creepy man painted from head to toe to look like a white person wearing a t-shirt which said “telecom phones Osu and Adenta,” came up to us and stood at our table and stared. It was awkward and slightly frightening. Afterwards we went to Champ’s, this American owned sports bar, for quiz night. It was an interesting experience…I walked in…I was the only black person other than the employees. I felt like I was back in the states. The menu at champs even had Mexican food and buffalo wings. It was a strange sensation. The place is a popular hang out for the marines that protect the embassy, the people who work at the embassies, and volunteers and NGO employees. I could see how if you went there every night you could easily forget you were in Ghana. We also went Friday night, for a friend’s birthday celebration. It was karaoke night and Laura and I sang “Wannabe” by Spice Girls haha. It was really fun; there were some talented people and some good sing-alongs. Saturday morning (after two hours of sleep) we headed to Ada, where the Volta meets the Ocean. We took a tro-tro to Ada Foah, then we took an hour long boat ride down the river to the estuary. We got to the hotel, or camp or whatever you want to call it, at around 12. We sat around for a bit, lazed on the hammock, walked the beach. That night we ordered dinner and enjoyed a “cultural night” which was clearly just for the obrunis entertainment. Then we attempted to find some sea turtles, but it was too cloudy for the moonlight so there weren’t any. There were some NYU kids there who told us a little about their program: they live in a compound with a/c, hot water, cooks etc. and take only a few classes at the university. Sometimes I worry about the kids in the programs and whether or not they are having the best experiences while they are here (not to mention, in Senegal I am in a program and I hope that it isn't so sheltered as most of the programs here are...)
The next morning we got up had pancakes that were fluffy ( I swear they were made with bisquick) and Laura and I headed to Togo. We got to Togo at 2ish, found a restaurant that served couscous and spaghetti, which was delicious. Then we rode motos (they are so sweet!) to the crossainterie where we had pain au chocolat. Then we took motos back to the border, crossed and got our stamp and jumped on a tro tro by 5. unfortunately, traveling by tro-tro at night is not the best idea. There are a ton of police check points on the way. We stopped at at least five, two of which we had to disembark the tro-tro. Its annoying…the police are essentially just looking for some way to tax the drivers and get some money. But at the same time I feel bad for the police…I learned that they make less than $100 a month, get a 200 cedi (about 2 cents) budget for uniform, and they work ridiculous hours. Its corruption, unjustifiable, but it’s a shame that they have to resort to it in the first place.

It is getting hot hot hot. And the days are no longer beautiful, as the Harmattan has settled in to stay until January. The Harmattan is a wind that brings sand from the Sahara every November. It makes the days extremely hazy and sometimes even blots out the sun and the moon. The sky is now a nice tan color, instead of blue, and I have heard rumors that it gets so bad that you can’t breathe.

three months, monkey paws, Where do all the tro-tros go?, Eba and Bitterleaf stew

2006-11-06T06:07:00.000-05:00

Thursday night we went to aphrodisiac for ladies night. It was a really crowded club with tons of scantily clad females and sketchy men. It was a good time, i guess, because it was free but the music wasn't that great.
Today it has been three months since I left home; I have 6.5 weeks til I return home. Its kinda scary...I mean I am excited about coming home, but I don't want to leave because I really like it here.
Saturday we went to a fetish market in Jamestown. We drove past gorgeous buildings like the supreme court building, the barclays bank and even a woolworths with a parking deck ( I felt, for a fleeting moment, like I was back in a US city) and then we hit Jamestown. It is more or less a slum town of Accra and it was run down and decrepit and slightly depressing, especially after seeing those buildings. We found the fetish market, located in the lumber yard, where they sold anything from monkey paws to dog heads to thunder rocks (rocks that come from the sky when it thunders?) to fertility dolls to dried chameleons. It was interesting to say the least. from here we headed to the Arts Center, which was a big mistake. At the Arts center all they do is harass you..." my sistah, please come look at what I have. What are you looking for? I have paintings, mud cloth, ghana shirts. Please just for a second, no pressure. How much would you want this painting for? How much do you have? Its very nice!" etc. every stall you walked past, and there were a lot of stalls. Not to mention the stuff there was overly expensive. I bought some fabric and some bracelets and then my money was spent, so we headed back to campus.
That night we got dressed up to go out and eat Nigerian food at a restaurant (Uchi's place) in east legon. I mean...it was a cultural experience...the food was...TOO SPICY. I ordered Eba, which is a big lump of doughy something but it tasted a lot better than fufu. With the eba I got bitterleaf stew, but it wasn't a stew, it was full of dried fish (which I must admit I can't stand) and probably three pounds of pepe (no joke). The good thing about the stew was the goat meat.
by justinesghana

It was pricey for something I didn't want to eat (50,000 cedis) but CJ, the birthday boy, was really happy we all came to eat his native food. We watched some Nigerian music videos, drank some home-made gin (5,000 cedis for a shot), and had a good time until midnight when some went out dancing and the rest returned home to sleep.
Yesterday, Karen and I decided to jump on a random tro-tro and see where we ended up. Stupidly, we got on a tro-tro to Adenta which wasn't far from campus at all. But we walked around the town, which was a pretty nice development area, and drank some fanta at a relaxation spot in a garden owned by a former botany professor at Legon. It wasn't anything too exciting, but it was a change from campus.
Last night we went to see a play about Yaa Asantewaa and the golden stool. the story is as such: the golden stool is very important to the Ashanti people. It unifies them and if someone else were to possess the stool, they would go into turmoil. Well, when the brits came in, they wanted the golden stool and wanted to rule Ashanti because of the gold that was under the earth. So, the british arrested the Asantehene (chief) Prempeh and took him to Cape Coast. They were also given a fake golden stool to take home to the King (the real one was dug up accidently when they were building around Kumasi and it now is in the palace there). Yaa Asantewaa, the queen mother, rallied the people to fight the British in a long resistance. The play was amazing...there was more than 100 people in the cast and at least 50 people on the stage at all times, so it was far from boring. Half of the play was in Twi, but you could understand what was going on without knowing the language. The play was narrated by a story teller, had real obrunis playing the british, and had really great dancing, singing and drumming. I was really glad I went.

“An African in Africa,” kissed, luxurious life, and a very happy Halloween

2006-11-02T07:51:00.000-05:00

On Friday night I went to this African-American owned restaurant/bar called Jazz Tones with two South African gentleman. One of the South Africans had been living in Ghana for three years, but said that he was initially shocked. He said that he would title his autobiography, an African in Africa. He said he was frustrated with the laxidasical lifestyle of Ghana, the lack of attention to times for meetings, and most interestingly, the way that Ghanaians interacted with people of a different class. For example, he said that the “upper class” Ghanaians would never interact with the lowly street worker. He said that in South Africa, things were totally different, everyone interacted with everyone despite their race, creed, income. Things down there were also a lot more fast paced and timely. He also said it was extremely difficult to date Ghanaian females because they were shy, or never invited you anywhere.
Saturday we took a day trip to Boti Falls, in the Eastern Region. We rode to Koforidua (affectionately, K’Duah) which is the capital of Eastern Region in a tro-tro which took about 3 hours. Then we waited for the metro bus to take us to Agogo, the town right outside the falls. When we arrived at the falls, we paid an entrance fee of 15,000 cedis, then we began our three hour hike. It was a nice hike through the woods to a rock called the umbrella rock. Basically it is two enormous rocks on top of each other. We climbed to the top on a rickety, slighty sketchy bamboo ladder (it wasn’t attached to the rock and it was held together by string). It was nice and relaxing on top. However, our relaxation and attempt to enjoy the climate, clean air and quiet was interrupted by a group of Muslim Drama students (therefore, its not just annoying Christians here…). When we reached the cave, the Muslim boys wanted to take our picture. It was like we were park mascots or something…they all crowded around us in a huge group. Every minute someone new would show up with a camera and get his friends to hug us or put their arms around us to take a picture. One boy even had the audacity to kiss me on the cheek and practically climb on top of me in one of the pictures (actually the picture probably ended up being me pushing the guy away from me with an extreme look of disgust). We avoided them at all costs for the rest of the trip, bypassing the areas they were visiting with our tour guide leading the way. We also saw a cool looking three headed palm tree. Then we headed to the falls, which was down a walkway with 250 steps (we tried to count but it was too much effort). The falls were really nice…there were two, a man and a woman. Legend has it that an Ashanti man came to the river and saw a woman who could braid his hair. While doing so, they fell into the river (Boti means braid in Twi, I think). The male fall was of course larger and more abundant than the woman falls. I watched as my friends frolicked in the water for a bit, then we decided to start heading back to Accra around 4.
We asked someone if the bus would be coming soon, and they said yes, so to be proactive we started walking down the empty road towards K’Duah. We walked, and walked and walked, but still no tro-tro or bus. Then, it starts thundering and the Ghanaians on the road started running down the street, right before it started to pour. We hide under a tree in front of this house, and the people in the house told us to come sit with them under the porch. They were really nice and “invited” us to their yams. They didn’t speak much English, which is a first encounter for me. So we sat and waited for the rain to let up and still no bus/tro-tro. At 5:30 we headed back down the road, and at this point it started getting dark so we found a cab who took us to the tro-tro station where we hopped on a tro-tro to Achimoto, where we had to get a cab because it was too late for tro-tros going to campus. It was a nice trip, but we did almost get stranded, haha.
Sunday was a day of luxury. It was really hot, so we headed to Shangri-La ( a hotel) to lounge by the pool. It cost 45,000 cedis to get into the pool and we stayed there from 12 until 6. We ordered a delicious pizza with mushrooms and ham (85,000 for a medium) and then decided to go to Maxmart for coffee (cappuchino 15,000) and croissants (8,000 chocolate filled). So, despite its expense, it was a good relaxing day.
Monday night we bought a watermelon (40,000 cedis, it was HUGE) and carved it. We had to eat all the watermelon inside, so not to waste, of course, so I don’t think I will want to eat watermelon ever again. Tuesday night we dressed up (I was a gangsta, Maura was a pirate, Laura was a fairy, Karen was a witch/dead/scary person, Siri was little red riding hood, Kayla was a gipsy, Ryan was Indiana Jones/murderer with two machetes, Charles was Arthur, Arthur was Arthur, Weston was a red neck, Joel was a roman/people thought he was jesus ( I am not sure why), Melinda was a bat, Ryan was a Viking woman?) and headed down to night market to liven up the spirits there. We marched around, a bunch of white people, me and a couple of Asians dressed strangely, shouting happy Halloween and passing out candy to the ladies that worked at night market. Mavis, a teenage girl who supplies us with our sweets addiction, thought I was being a “nigga” and marched around with us yelling happy Halloween. We probably freaked out a lot of people, but that was our intention I think. Then we had a bonfire in a field behind ISH and told ghost stories, or something, before heading back. There were two carved watermelon and one cocoa fruit jack-o-lanterns, which looked very nice. Karen and Siri experienced their first Halloween here in Ghana and we Americans upheld our centuries old tradition of trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat. :)
Saturday night is C.J.’s (one of our Nigerian friends) birthday, so we might be doing something fun for that. Tonight we are going to Jazz Tones for cheesecake (hopefully) and then to Aphrodiasiac (a club) for ladies night. I have two more weeks left of class, then I am heading to the North for the week of Thanksgiving, then I have exams, then I head to the Western Region, Ashanti Region and maybe Brong-Ahafo region for what has been deemed the “Whirlwind Tour.” Then it will be time to leave. Essentially, I have three weekends left in Accra, and next Saturday I am going back to Togo. Time is going by TOO quickly!

shower sell-out, conferences, botanical gardens, etc.

2006-10-26T12:05:00.000-04:00

It has been a while since I wrote, so its time for an update. p.s. for togo pictures, please click the ghanawebshots link on the right side. I haven't put up the Cape Coast ones yet.

Nothing much has happened, I haven't been traveling or anything too exciting. October 16-17th I went back to Cape Coast for a conference on decentralization and district assemblies' ability to generate revenue for CDD. I was the designated reporter. Since Cape Coast is a bit of a distance from Accra, we stayed overnight at the Elmina Beach Resort (this is where the conference was hosted as well). I felt like a sell-out...We were in an air-con car with a driver, stayed in a nice hotel with air-con, satelite tv, and...hot showers. I guess i felt like such a sell-out because I felt like the uppidy people i am totally against here. and the hot shower...it was just okay (i.e. it was a nice addition, but not necessary). Anywho, I am really grateful I had the experience of attending the conference. There was a presentation on the Cape Coast Municipal assembly and how they are attempting to generate revenue (tax collection is hard, especially with so many people in the informal economy not contributing to the tax base, so the assemblies have a hard time implementing successful development projects, such as trash collection.).One suggestion was the construction of student hostels, since the University of Cape Coast doesn't have enough housing for their students (the same applies to the University of Ghana, Legon...where I have heard rumors of one room with 13 people in it...a room meant for four). At the conference was the Central Region minister(he had a personal bodyguard too), some professors from UCC, members of the district assemblies, the Director of the Non-tax Revenue Ministry of Finance & Economic Planning from the central government, and a host of other prominent people as well as students and those involved in NGOs such as CDD and one of its chief funders, FNF. It was a really interesting conference...the director from the ministry of finance gave a presentation on street naming and house numbering. You just never think about how something so basic as this can really affect the infrastructure and development of a city. Anyway, as the reporter I had to write down everything that was said during the Q&A session, which was difficult because some people were mutterers, others were mumblers, others didn't really make coherent arguements, and still others were bringing up interesting topics that had nothing to do with anything. I went to the conference with Prof, Buntu (South African who is CDD's international fellow), and Joe, who has become my boss here at CDD (and who got me invited in the first place). We talked about US Foreign Policy (popular, eh?) listened to the BBC Africa on the way back, ate some pineapple, and had a wonderful time. I think that the internship thus far has provided me with the greatest experience, because I am with Ghanaians and learning so so much about the Ghanaian government, the innerworkings of a NGO, and getting to go to interesting conferences (like the one I attended today about women in the reconciliation process, how the reconciliation process should take on a more gendered approach to consider women who were abused, humiliated, or oppresed during the military regimes and the totalitarian governments of Ghana's past).
The following weekend my roommate's mom took us out to eat at a popular chopbar called Asanka's. I had yam and palava sauce (boiled yams and a spinach sauce) which was pretty tasty. My roommate's mom is a professor of finance at UofG and she is trying to get a fulbright in the US to study international finance at NYU. She is from Nigeria and has four kids, one in the US studying engineering in Georgia. She took us for icecream afterwards.
The next day we headed to Aburi botanical gardens, about an hour away from campus. It was built by the british and houses a ton of trees and flowers from all over the world. There is this one tree that got eaten by some crazy plant and the tree is completly hollow inside. We climbed in and it was cool. The gardens were small, but it was a change because it was a higher elevation than Accra and the air didnt smell like noxious fumes from cars. That week marked the official halfway point, and now its all downhill. I am not ready to leave...I mean i want to see everyone, but i think that you should come here, so i can see you and enjoy my lovely life in Ghana!
Last weekend (20-22) was also laid back, but sunday I went to prof's house for lunch. I met some of prof's friends, a chem professor from UofG that studied at duke, prof's ghanaian-canadian neighbor, a lawyer working in NY for international transitional justice, a woman on CDD's board of trustees who is a professor in communications at UofG, and a female lawyer who studied in London and is a non-sitting district judge. Prof's real name is E. Gyimah-Boadi, he is a professor at UofG in political science as well as the head of CDD. He doesn't want people to know what the E stands for. Anyway, he is a great guy, funny, smart, religious neutral (which is a "God-send" (no pun intended, haha) in this OVERLY christian society). Just sitting there, listening, i learned so much about Ghanaian politics. Granted, sometimes I had no idea what they were talking about (idk what it is with Africa and its 100 million acronyms for everything i.e. CHRAJ, PM, CCMA, AMA, CPP, NPP, NDC, etc and those are only a few of Ghana's million acronyms), but I got the general gist, like their views on chiefs and their desperation to hold onto power i.e. the Asantehene (the chief of the Ashante) who recently issued a fatwa on some journalists who wrote an article where his name came up in discussion about a cocaine scandal. Chiefs play a critical role in Ghana's democratic development, but it is interesting to see how they interact with the central government (in other words, they do what they want).
Speaking of religion, tonight we are going to a singles/relationship conference on campus. We are mostly going because we want to learn about things such as 10 things that are wrong about sex, 15 reasons not to marry your classmate, but to marry your CLASSMATE (whatever that means), etc. It will be an interesting experience, even if we don't believe what they tell us. I have no problem with Christians, mind you, but here in Ghana it is a bit on the ridiculous side, with someone left and right always preaching to you about something. Not to mention, one of the first questions in conversation is are you a christian? because that really matters if you are only trying to get the lecture notes from class. They are way too "holier than thou" for me.
This weekend we are hopefully going somewhere...p.s. only three more weeks of class...crazzy.

high heights, chilling sights, chocolate spread OD

2006-10-10T11:48:00.000-04:00

Last thursday I went out to eat with a colleague at CDD. We went to Redd Lobster. Haha. Oh Ghana. Jay-Z came on friday for a concert, tickets were 600,000 cedis ($60). It was a big deal here, especially amongst the students on campus. I didn't go.

This past weekend we went to Cape Coast. We left Saturday around 7, taking a tro-tro to Kwame Nkrumah circle then to Kaneshie and there we caught a tro-tro for 25,000 cedis to Cape Coast. As much as I love tro-tros i have to admit that was a very uncomfy ride. First, let me explain the anatomy of a tro-tro. A tro-tro is a mini-bus which has been rigged with a number of seats. In the back, normally can sit four people across, three people in the rows in front and then the driver and two people in the passenger seat. But thats not all. All of the tro-tros have rigged extra seats into the aisleway, so that from window to window in every row it is full. Your aim, therefore, is to sit near a window, so you will have the most space and not get stuck between two people. Also, it is not fun to sit in the back seat because you receive all of the bumps. The space between rows is very minimal and is even cramped for short me. I have no reason to complain, however; i feel horrible for my Norweigan friend who is 5'10 and has to cram in the same space I can barely fit in. The trip to Cape Coast was particularly bad because A) there was a ton of traffic and the temperature has been steadily increasing so it is quite warm at 9 in the morning. B) the seat back wasn't comfortable at all. C) I was sitting on top of the wheel which made for little space for my legs. We got to Cape Coast and immediately hopped on a tro-tro to Kakum National Park. Kakum is the home of the tallest canopy walk in Africa (maybe I made this up?). Kakum is also the most touristy place I have been in Ghana. There were two gift shops, a restaurant, lovely decorations. It cost us 45,000cedis to go with a group of Ghanaian students to the canopy walk. There was one student who was hiking to the walk in heels. (Oh, Ghanaian females ;) )When we got to the walkway, the guide told us that we couldn't fall because there was rope netting all around the walkway, it was reinforced with metal and wood, but despite this information, a ton of the Ghanaian students (all women) refused to cross the canopy. It was like 100 feet up and there were seven separate walkways each separated by a viewing platform. It was really lovely. Kakum is a real rainforest and it was cool looking down on it. we didn't see any animals but there were a ton of butterflies. It was also fun to rock and bounce the walkway to freak out the Ghanaian students (oops, did I do that?). It was a cool experience, but it wasn't that great. It was kinda an over-rated tourist place, but whatever.

The people on the trip were me, Karen (Norweigan) and Ryan (Iowaian/Californian). Ryan is a "drama kid" and knows a bunch of songs and can sing really well, so we often entertained ourselves by singing the soundtrack to Rent and other musicals. This was also very entertaining to Ghanaians who laughed at us alot. Karen and I thought it would be a good idea to bring chocolate spread with us, since we wanted to be cheap and eat bread for lunch. Well, all i can say is i totally overdosed on choc spread. I think I don't want it ever again, haha. "you are invited" - Ghanaians say this when they would like you to enjoy their food with them. We kept saying this as we passed around the choc spread (haha...). We met a Polish guy at Kakum who had hitchhiked his way from Poland all the way through west Africa to Ghana and was intending on making his way to South Africa by boat to Argentina/Brazil, then to the US then to Canada in the next four years, all through hitchhiking. Can I just say, Europeans do crazy stuff.After lunch in Kakum we headed back to Cape Coast to stay the night. We checked into Sammo's guesthouse, which is highly acclaimed by the guide book and our friends, and I would say it is quite a nice place, for 30,000cedis each. However, as we were sitting talking with the fan on, the power went out all over cape coast at 6pm (we get screwed, we can never escape the power outages). So we went to the rooftop bar and talked about various topics ranging from God to gender roles to US foreign policy. We hit the sack, got chewed up by mosquitos and woke up the next morning at 6.

We ate breakfast across the street, banana pancakes and tea (yum!). Then we walked to Cape Coast Castle. This castle was built in 1653 by the swedes then taken over by the danes then taken over by the british. Its place in history, however, is with the trans-atlantic slave trade. While there it was easy to distance yourself from its dark past. it was a gorgeous building, architectually, overlooking the ocean and beautiful beaches. but then you remember, thousands and thousands of Africans passed through this castle en route to the west; some going onto their inevitable deaths at sea or to forced labor in South America, the Caribbean, and of course the US. The museum at Cape Coast was impressive: did you know that the US recieved the least number of slaves compared to South America and the Caribbean? The dungeons were the most powerful aspect of the tour. Imagine, so many people cramped into a tiny space, with hardly any ventilation, defecating, urinating, menestrating, vommiting, everything on each other, terrified of what was going to happen, beaten, shackled, starved. What is most unsettling was that my ancestors could have passed through this very castle, through the door of no return.

From here we headed to Elmina Castle, which was built by the portuguese in the 1400s and is the oldest european built structure south of the sahara. It too was part of the slave trade, but mostly by the hands of the portuguese and dutch. Here the governor of Elmina would stand on a platform, force all the female slaves out of their cells into the courtyard and choose which one he wanted to rape. If she became pregnant, she was allowed to stay in Elmina and her mulatto child was allowed to go to school. Elmina was bought by the british and was used during periods of rebellion as a prison for Africans. For example, you can look into the story of the Ashanti queen-mother Asantewa who encited war against the british to protect the sacred gold stool. She was kept here as well as the Ashanti king Prempeh. After the castle we headed back to Cape Coast and then back to Accra. The tro-tro was uncomfy once again, but I didnt care, I slept most of the way.

Ghana? It's very nice :)

2006-10-03T08:15:00.000-04:00

I forgot to note in the previous entry that while in Togo I only got one marriage proposal, which is pretty good since I was averaging much more than that a day when I first arrived in Ghana ;).

I thought I would let you know some language funnies that I have encountered in my two months in this country.
Rubber - a plastic bag, often used to carry food. I was passing food out at a conference at my internship and a man kept asking me for a rubber. Now...in the U.S. this means a condom and I was really confused until he pointed at the bag holding the boxes of food...whoops. People were really adament about getting these "rubbers" to carry their take-out trays...I didn't really understand why they needed a bag, but everything here in Ghana is placed in a bag (sometimes two bags, I have to stop the egg sandwich lady everytime before she gives me two, seemingly pointless bags).
Dust bin - trash can. The photographer at the conference kept asking me for a dust bin, which i thought meant dust pan, which I didnt know where that was so I just said no, I don't think we have one.
Balance - change, often used to get the "mate" (he is the one that yells out the window where the tro-tro is going and the one who you tell where to drop you off) to give you back your change.
Salad - cole slaw, typically with a ton of mayonaise, and often with ketchup.
Fast Food - fried rice, fried chicken, french fries, and anything else essentially fried.

"I have to urinate" - Indicates, please tell me where the toilet is. Only men have said this to me; the women asked where is the bathroom. I wasn't really sure what to say to the men who announced their need to relieve themselves.
"I'm coming" - used to indicate that the person is hurrying or getting close to something, like if they are looking for your folder or if they see you are in a rush and need to get your change.
"It's finished." - example: "Do you have fried rice? No, it's finished. "
"small, small" - means I only have a little or done a little; example "I have studied small, small french."
"How did you see it? How did you take it?" - Did you like it? How does it taste?
"fine, okay, nice." - All synonyms for good (although good is used much less often than those three). Women selling plantain chips say "nice chips." If you think someone is cute you might say "he is okay." When something is really good, they will say "it is very nice." How did you see it? it was fine. etc.

I love it. Not only are the accents great, but so are the great things they say and the way it is said. I am trying to imitate, because I was told I look like a Ghanaian until I open my mouth.

Le weekend au Togo

2006-10-02T08:49:00.000-04:00

I am way behind on my blogs, so I appologize.
This past weekend I travelled to Togo, Ghana's Francophone neighbor to the east. It was a three hour tro-tro ride to the border from Accra. The first sign that we were nearing French influence were the baguettes being sold on the street (yum). The border crossing was easy, but it was crazy that immediately there was a change in language. We hailed a taxi to Lome and our hotel (Hotel du Boulevard) for $2. I think we might have gotten ripped off, but it was in CFAs and we were just begining to understand the conversion (we would first convert CFA, 500=$1USD and then convert that to cedis $1 = roughly 10,000cedis, in order to determine what was a good price). The hotel was $10/room/night, which I thought was a bit much for the dusty, slightly decrepit hotel with a rickity fan and kinda dirty bathrooms, but whatever, we were in the capital. We went in search of food upon arrival and ate spaghetti with an omelette on top (weird, but tasty) and baguettes for $2. When walking the streets of Lome you cannot avoid the tons and tons of motorbikes. It was like a bike rally, there were so many. These are used for local transportation (i.e. no tro-tros in lome, only bush taxis and scooters/motorcycle). The next morning we got up early and headed to the crossainterie next to our hotel. Wow. If the french did anything in Africa that was positive, it was the introduction of French cuisine. I had a crossaint with cheese and ham and a chocolate crossaint ($2) for breakfast. Then we headed to the grand marche. this wasn't particularly special, just a typical market with vendors of various objects (watches, jewelry, peppers, fabric). A couple of positives about Lome...less harassment (maybe they knew we spoke english?) and no open sewers! It was alot less busy and a lot more relaxed than Accra. The beaches were uber clean as well. When we were walking along the beach, we watched some fishers check out their catch. Then we noticed that they had a huge object caught in their net that was moving...it was a sea turtle. it was really depressing watching it thrash. They said that they were going to eat it, but it was sad. Then we found a man who spend two weeks making art on sand mounds with sea shells. We attempted to check out the presidential palace, but the walls were too high to see over. We then traversed the rue de 13 Janvier, got our luggage from the hotel and caught a taxi towards Lake Togo.
We stopped in Aveposo to stay in a bungalow on the beach called Chez Alice. Alice is a nice swiss woman who runs this funky, african decorated hotel with two monkeys, a baboon and a ton of cats/dogs. And the hotel was cheap...$2 for each of us to stay in a bungalow with fan and mosquito nets. We chilled at the beach for a bit and found a place for dinner called Pumpkin Fast Food. It was incredible. REAL butter on REAL baguettes and couscous with delicious sauce ($2). The owner of the restaurant liked us and wanted us to come back for breakfast. So we did. And it was also amazing. Omelettes, cafe au lait, baguettes (with REAL butter, haha), and pancakes with chocolate sauce ($2). From here we got a taxi to Hotel le Lac on lake togo. We took a canoe (une pirogue) across the lake for a pricy $5/person to Togoville, the first city in Togo that the Germans visited and also the place where the cheif signed the rights to Togo to the Germans. Togoville is also extremely proud that the pope visited in 1985. Some men tried to swindle us for a tour (they wanted 5 euros ($8)/person for a tour of the tiny village!) but the man that brought us on the canoe took us around, showed us the cathedral built by the Germans/Spanish, his house, and his friend's house who tried to get us to buy his art. Conveniently, our last stop at Togoville was the gift shop. On the way back across the lake I got soaked. We headed back to the border Sunday afternoon, got what we came for (a new stamp that would extend our sixty day stamp until December), and then headed back.
I really liked Togo...mostly because I got to practice my French. The first night there I was really rusty and had a horrible time trying to convey myself. However, By sunday I only wanted to talk to people in French. That's when I realized..hey, i can survive in Senegal. We were two french speakers on the trip and two non-french speakers, so it was a bit hard to practice because we kept having to translate for the others. But it was still a great experience. The only downfall was the lack of tro-tros, so transportation was pricey (like $1-$2/per person/per ride). We will be heading back to Togo in three weeks because the Norweigans' visas only last for a month whereas ours last for 6 months, so to make multiple entry worthwhile we want to go twice and because I am leaving in 80 days, not 60 so I need to once again extend my stamp (such a hassle). We won't be going to Lome again but instead to the mountains/valley that border Ghana.

PICTURES

2006-09-22T07:43:00.000-04:00

finally I have uploaded my pictures. Unfortunately, they are out of order. I appologize, but I spent thirty minutes trying to re-arrange them to no avail. I hope you enjoy.

by justinesghana

Development, Hezbollah, Obrunis

2006-09-21T11:24:00.000-04:00

Thanks everyone for all of the lovely comments. I really feel special that people take time out of their days to read my blog.
Last week was an eventful one of sorts. I was invited by one of my fellow interns to a cocktail at a German NGO's office (FNF). It was very classy...waiters bringing you drinks and little hors d'ourves. I munched down because it was free and A) wasnt spicy and B) very tasty. The organization, FNF, supports and partners with organizations in Ghana that want liberal government. Liberal, p.s., means something completely different here than it does in the states. Liberal means privatization of businesses and the economy, de-centralization of the government, democracy. Conservative, on the other hand, is equal to socialist. To explain further, conservative means keeping the status quo. The status quo in Ghana has always been socialist, authoritative regimes. Liberalism means change from the status quo. You can apply these simplified definitions to the US as well, just the opposite (the status quo has been capitalism, privatization). Anyway, the reception was nice and I met some interesting people. A lawyer who studied at Tulane told me that she thinks that Ghana should be able to play a larger role in its development. She complained that when the West comes to "develop" Africa, they send over a consultant who tells the governments what to do, then takes 10% of the "development" budget. Though this may be an exageration, it made me think. I have become increasingly discouraged with the idea of Western Development. A) I don't want the world to be like the US. B) What right do we have to tell another country how to develop? C) who determines what is development? Honestly, I don't think we should play a role in it at all. The only problem is we have all the money. And you do need money to do things. Its a tough dilemma, but i have decided that i don't want to do international development as a career. I don't feel right telling people how to live their lives or how to become developed.
Friday night I hung out with a South African fellow who is working at CDD also. He taught me some Xhosa (the clicking language), how Christianity is totally different there than it is here, how he got to hear Ian Smith speak(former white leader of Zimbabwe during the War of Liberation...yes I was telling him about my SURE research, oh i am so proud! ), good African books to read. I also tried palm wine, which is huge in West Africa. It was a bit sweet and unlike anything I ever tasted before.
Saturday started with a bang...literally. 7:30am, there is singing and yelling and chanting outside of the hostel. Then there is someone shooting an air rifle. It was startling because i had no idea what was going on. I look outside and there are 30 guys trying to get into our hostel, yelling something about Hezbollah, dressed in traditional outfits and shooting the air gun. Sound scary? Well, its actually kind of funny. The group, "the Republic," is infamous for their renaming of new buildings. Since our hostel was new, they had to "christen" it and the recently re-opened Night Market. Our hostel was named Torog, a cocaine dealer prominent in Ghanaian news, and Night Market was named Hezbollah. They name buildings on campus, and require that every student only call the buildings by those names. So that was my wake up call. Everyone was outside watching these crazy kids. Then a Christian parade marched through our hostel. They were singing and playing trumpets and other instruments. Then a man stepped forward and began to preach about how even though we are international students, we can still accept Jesus.
So, my saturday morning was extrememly eventful. Since we were tired, we decided to just chill on saturday and visit...MaxMart. Yes, I said it. I went to the dreaded Western grocery store. And, some of the items I saw...they made me very homesick. Like Duncan Hines blueberry muffin mix. Salsa. Cheese, real cheese like cheddar, sliced and shredded. Ben and Jerrys (get this...$10 a pint, good joke!). We went to the coffee shop and had cappuchinos, sandwiches with vegetables and mozarella on wheat bread. It was the greatest. But it was kinda depressing because it was only Obrunis (foreigners, mostly white) in the whole place.
Saturday night we went to a bar that was opened up by a friend of a friend's. It was a very nice establishment in Osu. Then we went to a night club that apparently only lets in Lebanese or non-African people (the friend we went with, TJ, wasn't allowed in until the owner of the bar (an Asian guy) told them he was with him). It was kind of strange, but I met the co-owner of the club who was African and she studied in London and wanted to be our friend. Everyone in Ghana wants to be my friend. haha. Crap. the purpose of this blog was to talk about the hospital visits of this week. um...I will write one on that tomorrow. haha.

Why I love Ghana, part 1

2006-09-11T10:07:00.001-04:00

Last thursday, we attempted to get to the Indian restaurant in Osu (nice part of town, near the US embassy, tons of overly expensive restaurants) however, while we were searching, it began to pour. We run into the closest restaurant, Tsing Tao Chinese, to look at the menu. Meals were like 100,000cedis (a little more than $10) - too much. So we get up to leave but its still pouring so we stand outside waiting. The co-manager of the restaurant, Steve, comes up to us and asks us why we are leaving. We explain to him that we are students and 100,000 is too much for us to pay for a meal. He says, don't worry about it, sit down, enjoy the food and drinks and its on the house. Sweet! So we got food for free and it was amazing.
Friday we leave for Hohoe. We take a tro-tro from Legon to Tudu station and find a tro-tro that is almost full (so we only sit for an hour waiting to leave). The tro-tro ride to Hohoe was an interesting experience. Right before we got to the bridge that crosses the Volta river, the tro-tro pulls over, about half the dudes get off, and then we are attacked by women and children selling various items. 2o women were shoving bread in our faces, one girl was shouting "puuure water" and a couple of boys were selling what looked like small squids on sticks. Then the driver got back on, and we left. It was crazy. We arrived in the dark town of Hohoe after a 3.5 hour ride. Thinking we were going to avoid the power outage by departing from Accra, we were disappointed that Hohoe also didn't have power from 6pm to 6am. A guy on our tro-tro directed us to the Grand Hotel, which didn't have any rooms, so we start walking towards the Pacific Guesthouse. We ask someone for directions and instead of giving them to us, he hails a friend with a car and asks him to drive us to the hotel for free. We get to the hotel, its 100,000/room/night, which would have been okay if there was power, but since there wasn't it was kind of obsolete to have to pay for a fan. There was a bathroom in the room, however, and that was nice. There was nowhere to eat except this Lips bar place who totally ripped us off (40,000 for chicken and rice). Saturday morning: We found a nice woman selling egg sandwiches on the street (3,000 cedis) We bought a loaf of bread from her (5,000 cedis) and bought some chocolate (9,000 cedis) for our journey up the mountain. We checked into the Grand Hotel (61,000/night/room) and then found a tro tro to Mount Afadjato and Liati Wote (the city at its base). We get on the tro-tro at 12:00pm. We sit. We play cards. We sit. We eat chocolate. We sit. Its 2:00pm and we haven't left yet. We are worried, because we don't want to hike in the dark. The tro-tro is waiting to fill up. The driver asks us to pay for the other four people so we can leave (8,500/person). We didnt want to pay for it all, so we paid for three and the other Ghanaians already on the tro-tro paid for the fourth. Then all hell broke loose. Five people got on the tro-tro, which would indicate that we paid for someone to ride the tro-tro for free, and the Ghanaians flipped out ("these girls paid for three, we paid for one, you are scamming us!") There was multi language yelling and we were just sitting there, totally in awe. The ride to the mountain was really bumpy and we stupidly sat in the back and kept wacking our heads on the ceiling. We get to the mountain, finally, and start hiking at 4. Its a short mountain (800 m), but it was sooo steep. I almost died. I think I was dehydrated, but it was horrible. It only took us an hour to hike to the top, even though we made stops every five minutes. It was a beautiful view. The Volta Region is so green and lush and beautiful in comparison to dirty, dusty, dry Accra. We hike down, but at this point we are a little nervous. Apparently, there aren't any tro-tros that run from the mountain back to Hohoe. All our stuff, and the hotel room we paid for, was in Hohoe. We were slightly concerned we would have to stay in Liati Wote with nothing. Luckily for us, there was a church group bus headed to Accra and we came down the mountain in time to bum a ride from them to another town where we could catch a tro-tro. We were extremely lucky, because we would have been stranded had it not been for the church group. We ate street food (rice, beans, boiled yams) for 6,000 cedis and hung out at the hotel with a Swede who bikes the world and a Canadian from Burkina Faso.
Sunday: Woke up at 6 because the hotel played LOUD gospel music. Headed to the same breakfast lady, bought some more bread from her, and ran into some british girls we had met at Kokrobitey beach. Found a tro-tro going to Wli falls (6,000) and weren't ripped off this time. Got to the falls, was asked if I would marry this guy and was told that I wasn't going to leave Ghana because this is my home ("one of our lost sisters returned") by the staff at the park entrance. Hiked for forty-five minutes to the falls, ate some cocoa straight from the tree (tastes really sugary), met some Californians studying at UofG as well. The falls were massive and gorgeous (pictures soon). There were a ton of fruit bats flying around, as well as soldier ants (gigantic black ants) all over the ground.
We caught a shared cab back to Hohoe (shared meaning, five people in the back seat and two in the front for 7,000 each) ate more street food (rice, beans, spaghetti and salad for 6,000) then found a tro-tro back to Accra (40,000). We got back to accra around 7 after a three hour, slightly uncomfortable and a bit cramped ride, and arrived back on campus a little after 8.
We were really surprised by our luck...always finding rides, always arriving on time, and not spending too much money (except for that one meal). That's why I love Ghana. because everything works out. and people are always friendly and welcoming (except for scammy tro-tro drivers and sketchy taxis).

"America is oppressive"

2006-09-07T07:29:00.000-04:00

So as of today I have been in the country for a month. YAY! How am I celebrating? I had class at 7:30 and now I am at my internship. Maybe tonight we are going to get Indian food for dinner. mmm. Things for me have been good thus far. No sickness (knock on wood), classes are good, food is good. My top ten favorite foods so far: 1. Fried Plantains 2. Red Red and Plantains 3 . Waykie and rice 4. Fried Yams 5. Ghanaian chocolate 6. Omelette and plantain pancakes 7. meat pies 8. Burgers ground nuts 9. butter bread 10. banana cake. Two nights ago I fried my own plantains. they were amazing.
After a month of solitude in my room, I got a roommate. She is a med student from Tema, in Accra, and her mother is Nigerian. She wants to go into either hematology or surgery, i think. She wants to go out of the country so that she can specialize in something and she was thinking about the states. But she had quite an interesting view of the states that I wasn't expecting to hear. She said "America is oppressive." I ask her to explain. She said that in America she couldn't walk down the street and say "homosexuality is wrong." Here she could say that and everyone would agree with her. I think she means oppressive in that if you said that, someone would disagree and probably argue. I told her that there are people who would agree with her, but that just as she has the right to say that, someone else has the right to tell her they disagree. On a divergent note, can we discuss this homosexuality issue. Since you probably don't follow Ghanaian news, you wouldn't know that this has come to the fore front as a big issue because a group of gay advocates were trying to host conferences in Ghana and the government wouldn't allow it. It has been in all the newspapers, radio and tv. Homosexuality is not accepted in ghana, point blank. Politicians and church leaders have said that gays have horns and will ruin society if they come here to have their conference. There is no point arguing, it is totally unacceptable. So that is why my roommate knows that if she said it in the streets in Ghana, everyone would agree.
She also said that if she was in America she wouldn't be able to spank her children. This made me laugh as I told her I was spanked, many a times. I told her what I believe, that spanking will always be accepted as a mechanism for punishment in black homes (haha) but that yes, if you do it in a public place, you could get in trouble (I also found out that spanking is illegal in Norway). She also doesn't think that America is very Christian. She didn't think that she would ever be able to find a boyfriend because the boys in America don't go to church and wouldn't be able to challenge her and help her grow spiritually. She also didn't think that black men in America were very attractive, since they put all the attractive ones on tv. Americans, or white people as she said, are cold, unappreciative, unfriendly and selfish. She said that if a white was walking from a store that was closed and she was walking to the store, the white wouldn't tell her it was closed. I don't necessarily see this as rude, because how would you know she was going to the store? But I do agree that we are very individualistic and we try to figure out things on our own and as a whole we aren't very willing to ask for help and sometimes not very accepting when it is offered to us. We also don't pay for each other when we go out to eat (which is really common here, one person pays to take their friends out and doesn't expect reimbursement) and we will harass you until you pay us back if we do pay for you.
She also told me that she would NEVER approach a boy if she was interested...it was his role to approach her (she said that approaching him would compromise herself and send the wrong message....).
This conversation really enlightened me about Ghanaians. It also drew attention to issues that I wouldn't think about, but are very important to her where America is lacking. It is tough though, because I am holding my tongue on many things that she has said because I don't want to insult her or her culture. I do try to offer her some insight on my beliefs and thoughts without encroaching on hers.
This weekend we are going to Hohoe in the Volta region. We are hiking up the tallest mountain in Ghana (which is supposedly a hill, not much of a mountain) and going to Wli falls, the tallest waterfalls in West Africa. Hohoe is right on the border with Togo and is a five hour tro-tro ride from here. We are leaving tomorrow afternoon. I am excited, its the first time we are going into the country and not to the beach.

Water, water?

2006-08-31T06:39:00.000-04:00

For the record, I wasn't trying to be rude about the pictures. I am growing increasingly frustrated because I can't upload all of them for some reasons. Plus, I have to admit that I haven't taken very many pictures (a little paranoid about carrying my camera around all the time). I will try to take some more pictures and then attempt to upload them.
So, I learned something about electricity and water here in Accra. Accra is powered by hydroelectric power by the Akosombo dam (which created the largest man made lake in the world...it takes up 4 percent of Ghana's land area!). However, there isn't enough water powering the dam, so every three days or so, we don't have power. Every third day, we don't have power between 6am and 6pm. Every 6th day we don't have power from 6pm to 6am. It rotates based on where you live, as the whole city is on a grid system. Luckily, the campus is not all on the same grid, so some buildings will have no power on a given day while on the same day, other buildings do have power. So far, since I have been here, we have had no power in our hostel twice. Its not a big deal, because you don't really need power during the day, but electricity is connected with water. As the day goes on with no power, the water in the well no longer pumps into the buildings. Then you can't flush the toilet, wash your hands or take a shower until the power comes back. It's not something to really complain about...i think about the people who don't have access to bottled water and who go days without any water at all to drink, cook with.
So, a little bit more about my life here. I still don't have a roommate. Apparently, the Ghanaian students know that classes don't get "serious" for another couple of weeks or so. I am only allowed to transfer 4 classes back to Elon, which is a very small course load here (most kids take 6 or 7 classes). I haven't decided yet which four. I am definetly taking Population Studies (geography), Comparative Public Administration, Conflicts in African States and either Regional Development or Geography of the Developing World. I am also auditing three or four french classes. This may seem like a lot, but most of the classes only meet once a week for two hours, so I have a lot of free time. In the hours that I am not in class I am at my internship. I am really excited about this oppportunity, but I am a little disappointed in the fact that I am spending 5 hours a day on the internet and sitting in an office. Nothing is wrong with that, but I feel like I could be missing out on the whole Ghana experience while I am here, wasting time on the net. Oh well.
I am begining to enjoy the food a lot more now. I am jealous of ISH 1, the other international hostel. Its older, and more established and has a full restaurant, store and internet cafe. The restaurant makes pancakes for breakfast (1 for 2,500 cedis...less than 30 cents!) and the restaurant upstairs sells waffles for 5,000cedis (50 cents) from 5 til 10. We don't even have hotplates on the all the floors in our hostel, even though they keep telling us we will get them. There is also a very tasty restaurant in the hostel next to ours, called Tasty Treats, that serves banging red red (beans in some spicy sauce) and fried plantains, which are two of my fav foods here. So I am content. You have to eat dinner here around 5 because most places run out of food by 6:30. It gets dark around 6 here, but the sun rises around 6 in the morning. And so do all the Africans. And they are not a quiet bunch in the mornings. Its virtually impossible to sleep past 10. The weather has not been what i expected. Its been overcast 90% of the time and a little sunny and warmer the other five percent of the time. It rained yesterday for a moment and it drizzles but doesn't pour like I expected the rainy season to do. Its not cold, temps hover around 75-low 80s. But then I have Senegal to look forward to - 90s everyday! Its supposed to be hotter during september and october, but we will see how that turns out.
This weekend we are going somewhere, but I don't know where. We were trying to go to Cape Coast, but there is a festival of some sort, and all the hostels/hotels are booked. I will get there eventually, however. Next thursday is the one month anniversary of my arrival...its really hard to believe I have been in Africa for that long!

Celine Dion, Jesus and a host of other topics

2006-08-29T07:49:00.000-04:00

So, for all of you who thought that coming to Africa I would lose a lot of weight...If I do anything it will be gain. All i eat is carbs carbs carbs and that's three times a day. I feel the pudge coming on. So no worries, I won't return skin and bones, i will probably come back 10 pounds heavier haha. It actually rained today, which was exciting. The weather has been warm, not hot, and a little overcast. Two people in our crew have come down with Malaria..no good.
So enough about me, lets talk about Ghanaians.

First, Music preferences. Delilah (you know the soft rock queen) would be quite content with the amount of listeners she would draw here in Ghana. In bars, restaurants, the political science department, tro-tros and taxis, Celine Dion, Whitney Houston, Shania Twain, Tim McGraw, Lionel Richie and a host of 80s/90s soft rock and R&B blare. Celine Dion seems to be a favorite and it is totally appropriate to sing along, especially the men. Beyonce, Jay-Z, Sean Paul, Tupac, and Neyo are also played frequently.

Second, Jesus. Ghana is like 90 percent Christian, and they are quite proud of this. On tro-tros, you can read scriptures, taxis have names such as Lord our Savior, Have you prayed today?, and He died for you. Shops incorporate their christian identities in their titles: Blood of Jesus hair salon and Lord the Almighty car parts. Its kinda intense actually. But quite interesting...

Third, transportation. Ghanaians don't like to walk. Hence the extensive tro-tro and metro bus service. I dont mind walking, but there is a tro-tro that runs from near the ISH to the main gate for 1000 cedis (10 cents). Its only like a ten-fifteen minute walk, but you hardly run into a Ghanaian, especially a female, walking the path. I think this could be due in part to the fact that they wear heels to class. Today a woman got on a tro tro with a chicken and a goat. They put the goat in the back and she held the chicken in her lap. That was interesting. But tro-tros are actually a great idea. They go everywhere, and they come every few minutes. Sure, I have gotten on the wrong tro-tro before and ended up somewhere I didn't have intentions of being, but that's how you learn the system, right?

Fourth, I would like to offer you a view into things I have noticed that are acceptable here but would probably be taboo in the states.

Men holding hands.

Someone harassing you on the street to buy toilet paper.

Going to the bathroom with the door open.

Drinking beer at breakfast, lunch and/or dinner. (but public drunkeness is only accepted at funerals and weddings, i think.)

Singing along with Celine in public places, especially if you are a guy.

Walking in the street (but running over pedestrians doesn't seem to be taboo, so its best to be careful)

Cutting in line.

Littering.

Hissing, snapping, and making kissing sounds at females.

Cell phones in class.

Fifth, Classes. I have had three so far. The first, international conflicts and resolution, was a class of 100+ and was addressed by the TA. Everyone was talking while he was trying to explain. Then everyone was shouting. Then everyone was raising their hands and then they were talking. I was very confused, because A) I couldn't hear the professor and B) I couldn't understand him. My second class had 150+ and went something like this. I got there fifteen minutes early but still had to sit in the back. Then the people who got there on time had to squeeze into the desks that were already occupied. SO it was hot, sticky, no power (it was out all day yesterday), and squeezed in a one person desk with two people. not to mention, everyone was talking while the prof was, he wrote stuff on the board, but I couldn't see it at all, so i doodled and copied the girl who was sitting next to me (who couldn't hear either). People also answered their phones during class. Today's class was a lot better...40 kids, I sat in the front, and the prof spoke clearly and slow and it seemed like the students respected her more, as they shut up. The content of the classes is kind of disappointing...each class is offered once a week for two hours and there is only 13 weeks of teaching, so not much is really going to get taught. I have also learned alot of what the courses are proposed to teach.

So far, I am having a great and interesting experience. I will continue to try to convey on here what I see everyday. AND quit harassing me about pictures. I am in a third world country, lest you forgot. I am working on getting pics up!

Cultural Exchanges

2006-08-22T10:04:00.000-04:00

So this weekend was interesting but pretty low key. On saturday I went with two of the Norweigan girls to this hair salon where they met a woman last weekend who invited them to a festival. At the hair salon I taught the Nords a little bit about black hair ("why do you need to put so much product in there??" "Does it hurt to get it straightened??") They have been having a hard time finding someone to just cut their hair without putting grease in it (haha). So we met the lady, who turned out to be the daughter of a former Ga king. The Ga is the largest ethnic group in Accra. anywho, we went to her house and sat in a living room on a couch and sipped pineapple coconut juice and watched a thai, indian, and ghanaian films. then she brought us a sampling of what would be served later that night for dinner...some sort of palmnut soup with fish. This is when I figured out why I don't like Ghanaian food...it is very bland but at the same time very spicy. There is no flavor really, just spicy burnt mouth. Then we went down to the party and sat and watched funny dancing and got hit on by old men and young boys alike. It was a strange and interesting experience. I think that the Nords got invited because they are white, and they were most certainly a novelty at the party (people kept coming over to them, surrounding them while they danced etc). It is a weird experience, because I feel like I am not Ghanaian but I am not white, so I am not really paid attention to.
Sunday, I went down to my friend Tasha's room (rasta chick with cool dredlocks) and met her Ghanaian roommate. she said that she would cook for us, so I was totally down with some free food. Then she preceded to ask me a lot of questions about America. First, she said she was very surprised that we were dark skinned like her. She thought, based on movies and music videos, that all black women in America were light skinned. She was also suprised we had similar hairstyles as Ghanaians, and that we weren't "crazy" (which I think has to do with style of dress) and that we are very suprising to Ghanaians because we don't look like the stereotypical black female. I then proceeded to explain to her why light skinnedness is looked upon as better than black skinnedness in the states. She and her Ghanaian friend said I was beautiful (good for my big head, eh?). The food that she made was the best I have had since I have been here. She made some fried plantains (i wanted to start crying they were so good), a dish with a ton of veggies, tuna and pasta and chickpeas in a tomato sauce. I wanted to jump for joy, it was so tasty.
Last thing, I am at my internship now. I started today, but they haven't really given me any work. I am picking up where this girl left off on a project called "Ghana at 50." Ghana's 50th anniversary is next march, so CDD (Center for Democratic Development) is sponsoring a conference to discuss how far Ghana has come in regards to poltical, social and human development. I think my job will be to fundraise with international agencies and research possible topics for the conference. It seems pretty exciting, but like I said I haven't started or been assigned anything. I am just happy to have quick internet. This weekend we are thinking about traveling to the Volta Lake which should be fun (its on my top three list of places to visit while I am here, so i am looking forward to it).
P.s. classes were supposed to start on monday. No, they haven't. But its all good, I don't want to go to class anyway.

"You can be my African queen"

2006-08-17T10:31:00.000-04:00

So, i wanted to update the blog, but i decided to take my time. i will begin with what i have been doing since the last update. this past weekend we went to Kokrobitey beach, which is about an hour away. We had intentions of going to cape coast, but we missed the bus. Kokrobitey was nice...we stayed at a hotel...but we slept outside on a loft for $3.20USD. anywho, we slept on sandy mattresses with mozquito nests, and it wasn't too bad, actually. we ate delicious banana pancakes and enjoyed a entertaining reggae concert. Although it wasn't quite sunny on the beach, it was still nice.
My next topic of discussion is the Ghanaian men. I was warned that they could be a bit "friendly." but holy crap. Anytime I am walking alone across campus, at least 6 guys try to talk to me. They say they want to be my friend and ask me what my name is and where i live. I have gotten used to telling them my name is Cynthia and I live in an all girls hall on campus (which is all a lie, in case you didn't know). Now I am just telling them I am engaged. but they still keep harassing me. its obnoxious. when they call you over to them, they make this hissing sound. I try to ignore them, but they chase me down. i know i am goregous and all that, but seriously!
I mentioned fufu in my last blog as well. fufu is cassava and plantain made into doughy balls and served with a "lite" soup with meat (we had fish), okra, garden eggs, and a host of other questionable objects. you dip some of the fufu into the soup, then swallow down the doughy mass. do not try to chew, or you will gag. it was not good. i like all types of food, but i couldn't eat a lot of fufu. at least i tried it. ghanaian chocolate is really good. i like to spread it on my bread for breakfast. i also like egg sandwiches (already mentioned), meat pies, and pastries. The rice and even the pasta are often too spicy for me. Crackers and cookies are cheap and tasty.
Food isn't really that cheap here, or as inexpensive as i thought it was going to be. sure, you can get a meal for a dollar, but it might not be that appetizing. I try to keep it cheap by buying something, i.e. a loaf of bread and munching on that for the week.
Classes....haven't started yet. things here are slow, and you gotta be patient. first, you have to go to the departments and see what is offered (some just put up the courses today, even though classes are supposed to start monday). second, you must register for the classes (this involves standing in a long queue and taking 300 passport pictures with you). third, you must register with the dean of the head department (i.e. social studies) fourth, you have to find out the timetables of the courses offered and see if they conflict. fifth, you go to your classes, see if you like them of you don't (6th) you must drop/add which you have about a two week period to do. then, 7th, you actually take the courses. haha. I am probably at the third step, and i have been trying to register since monday.

where is the heat?

2006-08-11T12:48:00.000-04:00

So its cold here in ghana. Or at least it is colder than i thought it was going to be. Yesterday we went to a refugee camp that a friend of a friend (matthew phelps) worked at this summer (if you want to learn about his experiences http://agoo-ghana.blogspot.com). it was a refugee camp for Liberians. I really liked it, everyone was friendly and nice. I decided that I don't want to be here in Ghana, living in the university with a bunch of upperclass Ghanaians. I would rather be spending my four months doing something more productive. I can take classes back at home. Wish I had known that before I gave all my money to Elon to take classes. I am still going to try to get down to the camp and help out as much as i can. I feel like i can be a lot more helpful actually volunteering than just learning. Its sad, there are girls there that are prostitutes...young girls. there are children there who lost parents in the war years ago. There are former child soldiers there who are shunned by the community. The volunteers are trying to help by encouraging people to use condoms and trying to get them to go to school, but they have to pay for school (like 15USD a year). The UN is encouraging them to go back to their home country, since the current president is trying to get them back. but some don't want to go. The US isn't accepting any more refugees from Liberia.
So i have this slight dilemma...i brought my laptop and a converter to use it with. problem is, the laptop doesn't plug into the converter. Any techno savvy people that know a solution to this please let me know. (laptop has three prongs, converter has two prongs).
Here is some comedy for you: there is a restaurant here on campus called Tacobell. I thought, whoa Ghanaians eat tacos? but no no, its not. They dont sell tacos, they sell traditional Ghanaian foods. So I am a little unclear as to the purpose of the title.

akwaaba means welcome

2006-08-09T07:23:00.000-04:00

Don't worry, I won't update the blog this often. We just have a ton of time because classes don't start for another couple of weeks. So what have I been doing you ask? well yesterday we got up too early and treked across campus to the bank and the international programs office. Now, since I still don't have my luggage (which I hope to change in about 40 minutes when I go to the airport, again) I didn't have a decent pair of tennis shoes to wear, so I wore my reefs. bad idea. we then treked back to the ISH (international hostel) then back out again to catch a tro-tro to head into Accra. The tro-tro was an interesting experience. Pretty much crammed in there really tight with a bunch of Ghanaians which was really cool. The whole trip into Accra people kept coming up to the windows and trying to sell stuff, such as gas caps for the gas tank on the car, toothbrushes, fried plantains, towels. What was really interesting was the fact that these hawkers weren't coming up to the tro-tros because of tourists; this was where many Ghanaians actually bought their goods. In Accra we just walked around looking at all the street vendors. Charles was the Ghanaians favorite. They would see him and say "nice white boy" or come up to him and stare. it was really funny. I don't think ghanaians know how to react to me. it's like I am not white, but I am not ghanaian. Sometimes they seem confused when I tell them I am from the states (one guy asked if I was from Jamaica). oh well. we ate some really spicy rice for lunch and then we headed back. I had my first interaction with malarial mosquitos last night haha. I doused my self in off though, so no worries. We walked on campus around 7:30 but none of the restaurants were opened. So then we just went to the Mobile station. I had a cheeseburger. This place sells american food that is overly expensive. We saw a bunch of americans there and I decided I don't like them because they only hang out with americans. I roll in a posse with two canadians, one norwegian, one german, three americans, a guy who claims he is Irish, and occassionally a beninese. The Ghanaians and other African students haven't arrived quite yet. We have developed a couple of tag alongs...Kwame who gave me a bracelet and wants me to play basketball with him and also wants to give me a lesson on African history and teach me Twi due to the fact that I am his "african sister," "Ko"joe who makes drums and also tries to sell Charles weed, and a few others. We ask a Ghanaian how to get somewhere but they won't tell us, they have to show us. then they stay with us for a long time. its awkward. Tonight "Auntie Maggie," our night porter, is going to make us Fufu which is a traditional dish. then we are going to a reggae festival on the beach. It should be fun. I think the other African students will be arriving really soon, so I should get a roommate and all that jazz. Its really quiet in the ISH without them. I learned a cool card game we shall call "Norweigan guess the card on your forehead game" which is fun. An omelette here is eggs, some spices, all omlettized up then smashed in the middle of a huge chunk of sweet white butter bread and grilled. You eat this with Milo or tea or nescafe. that is breakfast. for a dollar. That's what's up. haha. Okay I have written a lot today, so I will shut up. I hope all things at home are good.

...And I am in the country

2006-08-08T06:06:00.000-04:00

I finally made it to Ghana last night around 8. One of my bags made it with me, but one is still in london. That is no good, but hey it happens. I have to go pick it up tonight. My room in the international hostel is very nice. It has a balcony. I will post pics up when i get a chance. There are a lot of international kids; so far I have met a canadian and a norweigan and a bunch of kids from California. The Ghanaians are trying to teach us Twi, but its hard to remember all of the phrases. My flights in weren't bad...the flight to london i couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep so I slept alot in the airport. The flight to ghana was good and i woke up just in enough time to see us cross the med sea to Libya so i got to see the sahara! That was cool. Ghana reminds me of peru...just with a lot more black people. haha. Anywho, I will try to post every week or so, or if a funny story needs to be told. I met Charles, the kid from Elon, in line in London (they call it a "queue" here). Just so everyone knows i arrived safely and in one piece.

2.5 weeks and counting

2006-07-18T18:13:00.000-04:00

So about two weeks ago I finally heard from the University of Ghana. I am to arrive at Kotoko Airport in Accra Ghana on the 7th of August at 7pm. I will be leaving North Carolina on the 6th at 1:30. Yes, I have many lay overs. but I figured a good book and anticipation should keep me busy. I have also found out that a fellow from Elon by the name of Charles will also be studying in Ghana with me. Perhaps a potential travel partner? I got some shots today and I have sent in my visa application. On top of trying to prepare for that I am finishing up my research project (our final presentations are next thursday..>Eek!). Been writing and editing like mad. Good times. I didn't get a Rabies shot...hopefully i don't get bitten by any wild animals (and if you know my current history of animal bites outside of the country you would know that I am very tasty to said creatures). I am getting excited but I am kinda worried because I don't feel prepared at all. Not to mention its been like 100 degrees here and I am complaining but heck, i will be in Africa for four months and its pretty hot there (haha understatement of the year).

my first blog

2006-06-06T22:32:00.000-04:00

I started this blog because i read someone else's who is in Ghana and thought wow, what a wonderful idea. Pretty much my journey starts here at Elon. If you did know...I am at Elon for the summer doing research on the war of Liberation in Zimbabwe (circa 1966-1980). I thought it would be interesting but has proven to be a lot of tedious reading (about 20 books in 5 weeks). Nevertheless, the program provides me with ample funding which will supply me with a plane ticket to Ghana in August. If you don't know, I will hopefully be going to Ghana in the fall and Senegal in the spring. the hopefully is because my initial plans got messed up and now i am waiting to hear back from both programs. In Ghana i am doing an internship with the Center for Democratic Development and a research project on market women in Accra, Ghana and their possession of contested places. Ghana and Senegal are both in West Africa, but Senegal was a former French colony while Ghanta was a former British colony, so their national languages differ. So why Africa you ask? well, here in the US many think of Africa as a lost cause...AIDS, war, tribalism, undeveloped....me, i dont see Africa like this. i think Africa is a great continent with thousands of interesting, impressive cultures, histories and people. People that, due to the misfortunes of time, history and unfortunately, people, lack some of the necesities we Americans take for granted, like access to clean water. I dont propose any government go into another country and tell them what to do in order to "improve" their livelihoods (ahem), since I wouldn't want someone to do that to me. However, my goal is to work with organizations that foster education programs that encourage active participation by those receiving aid in the implementation of ideas, programs etc. who better to help their continent than them themselves? I hope that while I am in Africa I find what i am going to do...maybe I want to help people with finding adequate drinking water or housing, or maybe I want to work with prostitutes finding contraceptives...who knows? so those are my views on Africa. About me: I am a rising junior at Elon University with a major in International Studies with an African concentration and minors in Geography, Political Science, and French. And that is all. ask me questions...i dont mind.