Ghana! A Travel Journal of Ghana and West Africa

I'm not in Kansas anymore

2006-08-16T20:18:00.000+00:00

When you were a kid (or yesterday if you're a klutz like me!) did you ever run full steam into a glass door? Thats kind of what it feels like to return to the Western world after a couple months in a refugee camp. That invisible shock that knocks the wind out of you when your least expecting it. Most people don't realize that most challenging part of an experience like this comes with the return to the “real” world. This advert I took from a place in Dubai where they nearly finished with this project to build these massive man-made islands as luxury resort homes ( and also where I had a day layover after leaving Accra; you can see why it was such a shock. Also watch this advert video about making another artificial set of islands in the shap of all the continents of the world- it gives you an idea of the infinate excesse of the place.) (Sorry about the poor embedding of the video, this blogger interface is a real pain to work with). Dubai has got to be one of the most extravegant, nausiating displays of wealth and waste that I have ever seen. It is the Las Vegas of the ultra-rich. Imagine my disgust to be thrust into this environment after two and a half months of this, one of the most impovershed region in the world.

When you go off to a place like Buduburam, the refugee camp, its such a major experience in your life, a turning point for many people, that it comes as a complete shock when you return to see that for everyone else life is carrying on as normal. You somehow expect the world to have changed along with you, and finding out that it hasn't can be very unnerving. Whats worse is the nagging feeling that soon I too will be back to my same old routine while the refugees are still stuck in their same old routine, just as if nothing ever happened.

The first few days back the guilt feels like a kick in the stomach. It's not that I don't enjoy my creature comforts, its for the very reason that I love that I feel so nefarious. As much as I would love to say that living in camp opened my eyes and brought me closer to humanity or some other crap like that, I can't. If it really did open my eyes and was such a touching experience than what am I doing sitting on these nice leather couches typing on my computer that costs more money than some people on camp will see in years (literally years!).

Yes, I wish the Liberians were living better, as well as the Darfur refugees, the Sierra Leoneans, the Ivorians, the Somalis, etc. but do I wish it enough to give up this life? No

Thats what makes me feel like crap coming home. I love the fact that I have this home to come to. I love that I will always have the safety net afforded to me by the mere happenstance of my birthright. The idea of having to live like those on camp for life without that plane ticket home in two month or two years scares me, a lot. So as much as I'd like to reject the West with our stupendous waste, astounding ignorance, and our unparalleled gluttony (thats the word that comes to mind when I find out the U.S. alone spends more on makeup than what it would take to feed the hungry of Africa, not that throwing money at the problem is any type of solution, I simply use the figure to frame the situation), I can't.

So I guess it wasn't the contrast between my changed state and that of the rest of the world, but the subtle understanding that I really haven't changed at all which gives me the gut wrenching feeling of guilt that twists my stomach as I revel in the joys of a hot water shower for the first time in months.

The first pair of clean cloths I put on when I came home was a $50 pair of jeans- thats more than two months pay for a CBW employee.

Yet I'm still wearing them...

Bye-bye Africa

2006-08-13T11:33:00.000+00:00

Well, it’s down to my last few hours in West Africa before I’m off the western world again. I can't think of anything profound or philosophical to write to conclude my experiences here, this probably has something to do with the pounding on my skull, a painful reminder of the too much fun that I had last night (nothing like taking a long intercontinetal flight hung-over!). But I do know that I will be back again. This doesn’t feel like a ‘goodbye’ so much as a ‘seeya later’

It seems weird but I’m actually looking forward to the opulence of economy class flying with such luxuries as one person per seat, air conditioning and other such nifty innovations. That’s to say nothing of the food either, no fufu or plain white rice in sight! Oh the joys!

Once I get to Australia, where I think I have a couple days layover so I don’t have to immediately hop on another plane for the states like I originally thought, I will try to get a bunch of pictures uploaded onto here. The internet here has been too particular for that to be practical so far.

Ok its time to go to the airport, I've heard they want you at the airport here something crazy like 5 hours before departure time. I can't figure out why, (it was like this before the London thing) but then again I've learned to not to ask the 'why' questions sometimes...

Thanks to everyone for all the comments, emails and support. If anyone had subsribed to this blog they might want to unsubscribe soon. I will have to do some work on it too add the pictures and it might end up sending a gazillion emails to your inbox and that might get a bit annoying.

So hopefully, if all my many flights go well I will be seeing everyone very soon!

Drug Deals and Beggars

2006-08-09T19:57:00.000+00:00

As my time here dwindles to a close I look back on 2 and a half months spent here and wonder at how it went by so quickly sometimes and so aganizingly slow other times.

I remember my first unsure steps off the airplane and out of the airport. I remember getting the first taxi outside of customs. A taxi driver approached me, cautiously and taking an obvious interest in his surroundings as a drug dealer might as he approaches his customer. He asks too loudly from 5 feet off if I want a taxi. When I nod my affirmation he comes in for the awkward extended handshake and pulls me uncomfortably close and says under his (fowl) breath

“you want some cedis (the local currency)? I got cedis, you change dollars? Euros? Pounds? I got it all, I give you good rate, black-market rate. Come, lets go”

I go with him because a) He’s offering a better exchange rate than the banks and b) I’m tired are jetlagged and it would be so nice to change my money and get a ride to the hotel all in one swoop. Mind you it’s not quite legal but it’s not something you would get in trouble for, I felt uneasy mostly because he made it feel like I was buying crack not cedis. We hop into the back of his beat up old Peugeot taxi, he slides in next to me after obviously scooping out the environs, I’m not sure if he was looking out for police, more customers or what but it didn’t do anything to appease my unease. I slip him my $100 US bill (yes slip- I fancied myself being all cool and subtle like in movies, of course those who know me probably also know my complete ineptness in this arena!) and he pulls out a duffle bag stuffed with cedi notes. $100 US equals about 1 million cedis and he’s giving it to me in all 5000c notes. That’s like getting $100 in 50 cent notes!

He counts out 250,000c and passes the thick wad to me, I try and stuff half in my wallet, which now doesn’t even come close to closing, half in the pocket, in which it barely fits and 5000c notes are spilling out the top- a great way to travel around my first day in an unfamiliar city in Africa! He gives me another 250 grand, which I clumsily stuff in my backpack. By the time he gives me the last wade of currency I have money stuffed everywhere, in both pockets, in every nook and cranny of my backpack, and my wallet, so I have to carry the last 250K just in my hands- because that isn’t asking for a mugging at all! Of course now I REALLY feel like I’m either doing a drug deal or selling secret nuclear information to the Soviets (oops, I guess now I have the CIA’s attention on this blogsite!).

At most stoplights here (They actually, generally, stop at red lights here!) there are beggars of all kinds. So now, on the ride to the hotel, at every stoplight we pull up to the beggars spot the white guy and come running to my open taxi window (why not close the window one might ask, a grand idea if it had and attached hand crank intstead of the metal stub from where it had broken off). I hate my self as I’m sitting there with oodles of cash sprouting from all over me, making me feel like I’m literally made of money, while I tell an elderly blind man with a disfigured stump for a left arm that I can’t spare him any change. It might sound heartless and more than just a touch cruel, but after much soul searching and travel I’ve formulated a personal policy towards this that I consider grounded in benevolent reason. It doesn’t make me feel any better as I’m sitting there, however, with the beggars mangled stump beseeching me through the open window. It is always so terribly tempting to cave in on my morals and hand the guy some change, but deep down I know I would merely be assuaging my guilt rather than acting on any selfless expectation of rectifying the inequality presented before me. It would feel good to give him money, but it would do more harm than good.

That sounds like an easy out, a perfect way to do nothing and dress it up with all the frills of altruism. But I think- no, I hope- that this is not the case. The reasons I give for this are so irrevocably intertwined in my personal attitude on aid/development work and human nature that any discourse on such subject would make a great philosophical conversation, (ahem, Kiran and Katie!) but requires a mastery of prose that thus far eludes me and as such precludes it from making it onto this page.

Wow, don’t I sound like the pompous ass! I've only been here for little over 2 months, which is how long the orientation period is in the Peace Corps, and I'm acting like an expert. What do you guys think; it would be great to get a dialogue going on something like this (the whole beggar type thing, not pompous ass thing:-).

For today I think i'm off to the refugee camp for one last time, show Justine around, take one last meal at Brotherhood (hmmm egg and bread mayonaise sandwich...) and say goodbye to everyone.

Oh, and Atlanta family, I'm not sure but I was thinking of trying to go to the cabin for my fall break, which is usually around 10-12 of October, would any of you guys be around then?

Home sweet home...

2006-08-08T19:07:00.000+00:00

I made it back alive! Not that this was ever in any doubt, I guess I should say: I made it back sane!
Oh, before I forget here’s a link to my travel buddy’s (Malcolm) website: http://www.crazymalc.co.nz

It’s very well done and has pictures and everything (which I soon (inshallah) will too have up here). I would have put it up earlier but was afraid Mom and dad would get worried when they saw pictures of what we were travling in...(remember, going 14kph you can't get into a whole lota trouble!)

I think I last left off with that god awful bus ride out of Mali. Well after touring around Bobo Friday (described by the guide book as "undoubtedly the most beautiful city in West Africa," yeeeeah, I don't know what they were smoking) we hopped on a bus Saturday for the 7 hour trip to Ouagadougou. After an uneventful night there we got up at 550am to catch a bus to Accra, another grueling 24 hour trek (which in fact turned into 26 hours) where I am now, alive and well after almost 5 days straight in busses or something of the sorts! And now, No more! No more busses dropping me off in the middle of the night strange cities in countries I've never been to speaking languages I've never heard of, no more hassle of Visa's, corrupt border guards and endless (and of course corrupt) military checkpoints, no more falling apart bush taxis that make Egyptian taxis seem like fine oiled pieces of machinery, no more painful 28 hour tro-tro rides that leave you covered in scrapes and bruises in unmentionable places, yes I am DONE!

I am going to miss Burkina though and especially its people. They were so open, so curious and so nice. They have no concept of “alone time” or personal space, but that’s ok, it forced me to practice my French. I think I learned more French in the two weeks in French West Africa than my entire stint in France last year. I could defiantly see my self putting in my 2 years at Peace Corps in a place like Burkina.

But now I’m back in Accra. Its amazing, after the poverty of Burkina Faso, Ghana feels like a completely developed nation. I was amazed as we drove through the countryside after the border crossing; it almost felt like being back in the west. And Accra, wow, it feels like I haven’t seen anything so modern in my life! Little things like paved roads, stop lights, buildings not made out of mud-brick, shiny cars that aren’t rust buckets: Ghana’s got it all! As we drove back into the city I felt like a country bumpkin ooing and ahhing at the sights and the lights of the Big City.

But people are waiting on me, we bumped into a couple of girls in Ouagadougou, one from Norway (which made me very excited, I told her “Je con iki shnakie Norsk”, or I can’t speak Norwegian, the first time I’ve gotten to say that since we lived there- she said I have a very good accent. She lies) and another from Alberta. They’re doing some work in an orphanage 6 hours north of Accra and were up in Burkina trying to do some work near Goroum-Goroum but were thinking about going to see the refugee camp here in Ghana. So it looks like were going to take them out there sometime this week. I’m also trying to meet up with Katie’s friend from Elon, who just got into Ghana to do some research I think, so hopefully that will work too. She’s got a good blog up at: http://jsteendavis.blogspot.com/

Ok so I can't wait to see everyone soon! mom (wherever you are!) and Kendra and Kiran i'll see you guys in chicago! Dad Ill see you in about a week and everyone at purdue ill see you in 2 weeks! Everyone else, come visit (i want to make a trip up to SB too hopefully soon)! I'm getting very excited!

West African buses

2006-08-06T17:11:00.000+00:00

Let me tell you about the trip from hell. For those of you who have never had the dubious pleasure of a tro-tro experiance first imagine flying economy class on American Airlines, right at the back of the plane on the one seat that doesn’t lean back. Now imagine the airlines cramming another person onto your same economy class seating while the airplane sits on the tarmac with out air conditioning while the mercury breaches the 100 barrier with humidity to match. That would be a plush tro-tro experience, double your discomfort, take away the fabric seats and add plastic that sticks to your sweaty body (which is also sticking to your neighbours sweaty body), and then you have something like a tro-tro on a hot day. You got that? For those of you who have had the the tro-tro experiance imagine this: 28 hours on a decrepit tro-tro that that makes Ghanaian tro-tros look luxurious, including on overnight stay in the middle of god knows where and getting caught in a rain storm with glass on only half the windows leading to a wet and very cold, long, miserable trip.

We were told to show up at the bus station in Mopti at 6am to get the bus to Bobo-Dilasso. So we faithfully (or naively) showed up at the mud brick bus station at 6am only to be greeted by one sleepy attendant who wearily sold us bus tickets and told us to be back at 4pm when the bus was now scheduled to depart.

Of course when 4pm rolls around (we’ve now been waiting for 10 hours) the people at the station (as well as the numerous touts who were aiming to be our ‘guide’) informed us that no, the bus had not sold enough seats and was now leaving tomorrow morning. Well no, actually half the people said it wasn’t leaving until tomorrow morning so we should go find a hotel (strangely enough these people also seemed to be the ones with cousins who could hook us up with a hotel room for ‘a bery good brice’….) while the other half insisted that indeed the bus was leaving tonight, although not for another few hours.

Finally at 6pm the dilapidated bus rolls up, our bags are loaded on top and, and after they bang away at various parts of the bus with a hammer and chisel, we start to head out for Bobo (this is where I start the timer for the 28 hour trip). The first sign that something wasn’t quite right should have been when we pulled up to the first stop to pick up more passengers and after a big cluncking sound and much lurching the driver hopped out, whipped out a new drive shaft from under the seat I was in, and started going to town on our vehicle. The second sign should have been when Malcolm and I, both seated on different parts of the tro-tro, could clearly see the road through the floor. The third sign should have been that the only way to start the bus is if all the male passengers piled out and pushed (those “might have to get out and push jokes” hits a little too close to home in this case!). But at this point we were on our way….or so we thought.

At the first of ohhhh so many police/military checkpoints the bus turned around (after about 45 minutes of unexplained waiting), headed back to the first town where they had replaced the drive shaft to wait for another hour or so, then headed back Mopti, where we started to wait for another 30 minutes. All of this is done without one word of explanation to us about what’s going on, very frustrating. When I ask all I get is l’autobus, c’est pas bien, (the bus, its not good). No word on how long we will be waiting or if were even going to leave at all. All I want to do at this point is just get back into Ghana but it seems like the universe has other plans for me.

At 10:30 pm ish we again leave Mopti and this time for good. Mom, I know your probably worried about your son on some crappy 40 year old piece of junk bus in the middle of the bush in west Africa, but this was probably the safest vehicle I have ever ridden in. I can say this with complete confidence because I think that when you crash anything that is going an average of 14km/hr (9mph) you can’t do much damage. A combination of a road that seemed to be built to challenge a tank and our bus meant that when we took out Malcolm’s GPS it gave us a precise moving average of 14.6 km/hr (9.12mph). Most people bike faster than that and I’m sure it wouldn’t have given much of a challenge to a runner. All this is compounded by the maddeningly numerous police check points, inexplicable delays where the driver stops in some random town in the middle of the bush and disappears for hours on end leaving Malcolm and I wondering if he’s ever coming back, and the ever present breakdown.

So to make a loooooooooooooooooong story shot(er), 28 hours after we piled on, we got off in Bobo-Dillasso in Burkina Faso. Near the end I was close to losing it. I don’t mean this casually like how most people say it; I mean I was close to losing my marbles, flipping out. We were squeezed in so tight at the end that my neighbour and I have to take turns leaning forward because there wasn’t enough room for the both of us to sit with out backs against the seat at the same time. The infuriatingly slow pace of the bus complied with the distinctly painful accommodation and the utter lack of information during the trip on where we were, how much more there was to go, and what was going on got to me like none other.

This was defiantly a low point on my trip, but at least its over and I will never, NEVER complain about those 15 hour trans-pacific flights again. I could only dream of such plush luxuries as economy class seating! It took us 28 hours to travel the 372km (232 mi) from Mopti in Mali to Bobo in Burkina- that’s trip average (including the stops) of 13km/hr (about 8 mph)!

Its a no-go

2006-08-03T15:02:00.000+00:00

Update: The boat we were going to take broke down meaning we had to forego the Timbuktu trip. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise because I don't think I would have made it the 2000 km back to Accra in time for my flight giving the hellish time we had trying to get a lift back to Burkina

On the Banks of the Niger

2006-08-02T14:25:00.000+00:00

I wrote this last week, but the internet connection in Mali was to slow and too expensive to try and upload it from there, i had to wait until we got back into Burkina Faso.

We made out way up from Ouagadougou to Mopti in Mali, a 461 Km trip involving a night spent at the Mali border crossing in some mud-brick ‘motel” where we got to sleep on the floor and pay $10 for the privilege and a minor break down right at the foot of the Dogon Cliffs.

Mopti is a nice town though; it has a much different feel than Ouaga, a city who seemed to be suffocating under the weight of its own poverty. So I guess that not a very useful comparison. Mopti’s a river town, right at the confluence of the Niger and one of its tributaries whose name slips my mind at the moment. The lively port sees people from the Sahel, the Sahara, and a good portion of west Africa mingling and trading all sorts of goods from goats to camels to cotton to Ashanti cloths to salt; you can find it all here it seems. The main river of the part of the world, the Niger, who winds her way from the lush highlands of Guinea through Mali, kissing the edge of the Sahara at Timbuktu and Goa before plunging back into the tropics in Benin and Nigeria, brings with her the vitality and vivacity from each different culture that it meets, giving a strangely cosmopolitan feels to a place that appears to exist right on the edge of the habitable world.

We're going to shoot for Timbuctou tomorrow, spend 3 days on a pinasse or river boat and then a quick trip through the desert to spend a day or two in the town before we catch a 4WD ride back to Mopti through the desert roads. We're going to be cutting it close on time and money, but how many oppertunities to go to Timbuctou do you get in a lifetime?

The pull of the Sahara

2006-07-30T11:31:00.000+00:00

I came out of our hotel yesterday right as the last wails of the call to prayer drifted from atop the countless minarets that dot Ouagadougou and the crescent moon hung brilliantly just beyond the reach of the afterglow of the fading remnants of dusk. The air had a hint of Saharan dust to it, just enough to add some seasoning to the sunset and a familiar spice to the breeze. It feels good to be going up north, towards the desert. I can feel it pulling me and as we get closer, as the jungles and forests of Ghana drop away to the scrub bush and plains of the northern lands I sense an anticipation rising in me like my body knows its going home.

Its kind of an odd thing to be feeling as I have never in my life stepped foot (nor even heard of for that matter) the countries I’m going to. But oh well, I’m sure I’m merely romanticising.

It's strqnge to be off of camp and I’m not entirely sure what my take on the whole experience is yet. It’s a lot of information to sort through. I know that I do not, for one minute, regret having come this sumer as what I took away from the experience is invaluable. The people I met, especially on the other international volunteers and the locals on the Wat/San team were great, to say the least. Thrown together in such an environment was a great way to get close to some great people quickly. The flip side of this of course is that they leave as quickly as they come. Back in Tamale Malcolm and I parted ways with Renee and Kalie. I know Ill see Kalie again as she’ll be in Peth this Christmas and I’m sure Kendra and I (or at least I) will be dying for some under 50 years olds to hang out with (as hip as you guys are mom and dad…). But who knows when Ill bump into Renee again. Hopefully soon, and after the little Cairo rendezvous in Accra, I can confidently hold out some hope that this will be true.

However, the value of what I have back to the Liberians is debatable; I can’t shake the feeling that we were essentially glorified tourists on camp. That, however, is for a separate posting. For now is time to scour this dusty place for some breakfast. Ouagadougou, contrary to the guidebook’s description, is proving a finicky place for food. Far from “overflowing with patisserie and sidewalk cafes from where you can watch the city pass you by” we have managed, in two days time, to find one shanty café infested with flies (which, by now, we hardly even notice) and one patisserie, if you could call a barren concrete room with baguettes laying on one corner that. Kayla, do you remember where you stayed and where those pastries are that you were raving about? That would be awesome if you could pass that along!

Ouaga land

2006-07-29T10:59:00.000+00:00

Ok the entries ,;ight stqrt getting alot shorter fro, now on. I forgot that besides french cuisine the francohpone countries also come supplied with french keyboards, zhich, if you've never tries to use them, are a co,plete pain in the ass!

Right now we are in the dusty, yet bustling captial city staying a room zith running water and even A:C!!! what luxoury!! Im not sure what are planqs are fro,m here as the Malian e,bassy is closed until monday so we have to postopone our plans to heead up to Mali and Dogon country until at least tuesday. Im not sure how we're going to keep occupied until tuesday as we've been here a day and al,ost exausted our list of 'to do' activities, it seems there is a reason you don't see Ouagadougou posters next to Paris ones in travel agents offices!

Hopefully for next tid,e ill be able to use malcoms laptop to type up updates and then just upload the, so you guys will actuqlly be able to read it;

Oh i just got your email qunt susie, very frustrating to read that article you forarded. Its also interesting that God seems to have precious little to say about the wars in Liberia, Seirra Leon, Guinea, Cote d'Ivoire. I guess he was to busy protecting the chosen ones from the heathen infidels (some of who happen to be good friends of mine). oops didn't ,mean to get bitter, i'm in no position to. Its time to retire to my airconditioned room

To Timbuctou!

2006-07-27T18:16:00.000+00:00

CBW decided to make all this last week on camp a holiday until July 31st so I decided to take off early on my quick tour of West Africa (I think they did it to try and get rid of us early so we would stop making a stink about the whole car affair- which is still unresolved). Mom and dad, you'll be happy to know that another volunteer, Malcom decided to come with me so I wont be alone.

Right now we're in this small provicial feeling town of Bologatanga, about 50km from the Burkina Faso border. The ride up here was a 15 hour bus trip from hell on an old full sized bus crammed with as many people as humanly possible, and then some. They even jerry-rigged extra fold-down seats into the asles just to make sure we wouldn't be too comfy on the ride. It wouldn't have been so bad if the roads weren't fashioned after a cattle guard. The driver seemed to think that if he went faster over the rough parts it would make it better...my butt begs to differ. So tomorrow marks the last day in Ghana for a while. We're not exactly sure where we're headed, but for now aiming for Timbuctou, though, not suprisingly, its supposed to be a bit pain to get to.

For now I'm lookign foward to seeing Burkina, a country that I didn't even knew existed until last year. The guide book's introduction description, however, is far from encouraging:

"Few countries are as unlucky as Burkina Faso. It is a despratly, and famously poor, with an almost total lack of raw materials or natural resources. And although it shares its landlocked predicament with Niger and Mali, unlike them it lacks direct access to the important trans-Saharan routes."

Alothough I'm going to miss Ghana and espeically the people, I am looking forward to the Burkinabe cuisine, which like Togolese, reaps the benifits of being a former french colony. I'm not a big fan of the chop shop's fufu, bantu or goat soaps that seem to be the norm Ghanaian street food. Plus, when roaches and other unidentified critters are running all over the table and plates, as was the case at the last chop shop, it really does little for my appetite.

But for now, as my time is running out and this keyboard is pissing me off, I think we are going to retire to our $2 hotel room (which is really nice acutally) and enjoy a good nights sleep before dealing with the hassle of tomorrows border crossing (always seems to be a pain in the ass in most african countries) and bush taxi haggling (in french at that). With luck we will make it to the captial, Ouagadougou (try saying that one 3 times fast) by tomorrow night.

miss everyone and hope everythings going great to you all

Last Week

2006-07-20T11:46:00.000+00:00

It's running into the last week here of my time on camp and tension among the volunteers are running high. It's a combination of living in such close proximity to each other with almost no privacy and the whole car scandal. The car deal is a real slap in the face; for me it’s a physical manifestation of my uselessness here. I guess I can tell the whole story now because we've already spilled the beans to GVN. But first a little background on how everything works around camp.

I am placed by the organization GVN with a local NGO here in camp. Almost all of the money the local organization gets comes from program fees paid by the volunteers who are place by GVN. This local NGO is headed up by a Liberian refugee who we shall call Rob, and let me tell you, this Rob is a real piece of work. He's rather short with a protruding belly, formed from years of gluttony, and a joyless half smile perpetually plastered on his face. Further, he is generally not a pleasant character, to put in mildly. Right before I arrived the volunteers in the other house heard him essentially raping his wife (he lives right next to them) but there was little recourse the volunteers could take besides knocking on his door (which they did and he stopped, but then the next day he called a meeting and tried to make the volunteers come out to be the bad guys). He basically runs the NGO here, what he says, goes. So whenever I talk about the local NGO and its decisions I am, in essence, talking about Rob.

Last year a bunch of volunteers made some rather sizable donations (on top of the mandatory donation that’s included in the fees we paid to come here) to go towards a salary increase for the employees of the organization (I think I already mentioned that they currently get a paltry $17US a month). However, when the time came to give the raise Rob claimed that there wasn't any money available in the NGO's bank account.

The volunteers pressured Rob as to where all the money had gone to but to no avail. Then, one afternoon Rob drives down through camp in a Toyota minivan with the organizations name painted on it. The volunteers, of course, went ballistic, called the head of GVN in New Zealand who then flew in to threaten Rob with pulling out. The volunteers decided to keep GVN in place but decided that a GVN representative would be stationed in camp along with the regular volunteers to make sure no more of this blatant corruption continued.

So then this last June the GVN rep. left and no one replaced her, meaning their were only volunteers here like before the car scandal. Except that these volunteers (yours truly included) had no idea about the car scandal because anyone who knew about it had already rotated out, and Rob was none to keen to fill us in on the issue. So around June the volunteers were pushing for a salary increase for the employees, but Bob refused claiming insufficient funding (sound familiar??). So, two weeks later Rob heads off to Togo to "perform maintenance" on the car. A week later he rolls up in a nice barely used Land Rover! And those are expensive cars! Supposedly the car is to be used to scout out new prospects for opening up operations in Liberia, a ludicrous notion considering they can't even get their act together here, let alone trying to expand to the international level.

So while the hard working employees of his organization go hungry trying to feed themselves and their families on the pathetic salary he pays them, Rob refuses to increase their wage, lies to us, and then uses our money (and money from numerous other generous donors) to buy himself a new car!

Now it looks like we're going to be faced with a though decision on whether or not to pull GVN out. It's not the volunteers decision to make by GVN will place a lot of value on our recommendation. If GVN pulls out the local org. will be basically shut down, and most of the people working for it will be out of a job. But the idea of staying and feeding more money into Rob's coffers just makes my skin crawl. I mean how bad do you have to be to steal money for malnourished, sick refugees! It's nauseating...

Gaping at the Gulf

2006-07-15T09:44:00.000+00:00

Some days it really hits me, the gulf that divides me from everyone here. Its easy to forget, as your joking with them, laughing with them or having a beer with them after a long day, that you share histories so wildly different as to make you wonder how you ended up sitting at the same table enjoying a cold Star beer in the middle of Ghana.

Other times it smacks you in the face leaving you reeling and wondering how you can possibly bridge the gap. Take, for example, my IT class. During the PowerPoint section the class learned how to add sound effects to the slide transitions. One student added a machine gun sound which, when blasted through the computer speakers, caused everyone in the room to duck wildly in such a knee jerk response that it could only have been instilled in them the hard way. One moment I'm joking around with the teacher, Alfred, about the finer points of Brittney Spears’ figure and the next moment he's ducking from the ghosts in his past while I'm left counting my blessings that my first thought on hearing it is that the speakers have too much treble.

Or how about the micro-loan lady. Working on a salary of $17US a month she has to feed herself, her family, and several orphaned children she takes in. Then, because providence thought she had it too well, she comes down with not just malaria, no- that wouldn’t be enough, but typhoid fever as well. Already malnourished she now has to find money for treatment while still looking after her burgeoning family.

I can’t pretend to understand how they must feel. I have an escape; I’m leaving in another 2 weeks, but for them this is life not some summer project.

Update

2006-07-13T14:31:00.000+00:00

Just an update for everyone. I'm heading into the 3'rd week of the second month, only 2 weeks to go in the program before i head off up north. It's been kinda a rough week for the international volunteers. One went to the hospital in Accra last weekend with malaria then came back, thought she was over it, but headed back into Accra on Thursday. Hopefully its just Malaria and not something more complicated. Two other's think they might have malaria but haven't gotten any test done yet so their not sure. I, however am still alive kicking with not so much as a common cold to complain about.

We found out on Monday that the administrative staff of our organization took off for Togo to buy a car (apparently their cheaper there). I'm going to wait until I'm done with the program to write in detail about that though so I'm free to give my true thoughts (which are none too kind; I have some very choice words about the administration here). They're still not back yet and I wonder who's money they're spending for the hotel rooms and the lavish meals I'm sure they're taking. Plus the rest of the organization in inhibited because we can't access any of you funds since the financial guy is off gallivanting around on our penny. But yeah, I don't want to get too worked up about that now, more on this later...

I finally got to meet the director of one of the departments I'm in, the IT guy, he's been out with jaundice until now. My knowledge of diseases has exploded dramatically since I've been here. Don't worry mom and dad though- most these can be easily treated, the problem arises mainly when you can't afford the basic treatment.

Oh I just checked my email....congragulations Mike and Kim!!! I look forward to having another one in the familly, hopefully I'll be around to see this one before she gets too old!

Togo

2006-07-10T13:44:00.000+00:00

It's amazing how much of a difference a border can make. This weekend some guys from camp and I took a quick trip into Togo, ostensibly to renew our entry stamp to allow us to stay in Ghana for another 60 days; but I really wanted to see another west African country if only for 2 days.

Lomé, the capital of Togo has such a different feel than Accra, its loud, bustling, dirty- in other words, Egypt! I loved it. Plus since it's an old French colony, the food is fantastic. We didn't have time to do much, just some touristy crap like the voodoo market. It was interesting but had all the authenticity of a third-world Hollywood.

Unfortunately, although Togo is considerably poorer than Ghana (they had a cholera outbreak there right before we went- but I guess we had one of those outbreaks on camp earlier in the year so that’s not saying much!) it is defiantly more expensive owing to the strength of their currency, the CFA (Central Franc Afrique or something like that) which is the same that Burkina Faso and Mali use. This means I might have to reconsider my travel plans for August (I have been planning on heading up that direction). I also realized that the extent of my French skills leave much to be desired, an important aspect to consider when it’s hard enough avoid getting ripped off when I speak the same language, let alone having a language barrier added to the fray.

Togo made me appreciate some parts of Ghana that had passed me by. For one, people here are simply outstandingly friendly! Of course some people try and rip me off and there are buglers and criminals, but for the most part I am greeted by genuine ivory tooth smiles where ever I go. After only a month here I’ve lost most the edge that I learned in Egypt. I’ve dropped the shield that I used to put up whenever someone offered to walk me to the bus station or the tro-tro stop as I wondered around looking lost and confused. The hassle of Togo reminded me how easy I have it here, but makes me wonder about the wisdom of trying to go north. I’ve heard up there, especially Mali, is notorious for the hassle

I wish I could get pictures on here because I have some nice shots from this waterfall we stopped at called Wli (pronounced Vwli). Supposedly the tallest in West Africa they were truly impressive. On the way back we stopped in a monkey sanctuary set up by some Peace Corps volunteers. Its set in this rural African village composed almost entirely of mud huts or palm branch houses. Set that backdrop against feeding bananas to monkeys out of our hands as the sun sets behind some palm trees lazily frolicking in the slight tropical breeze while women with baskets on their heads amble down the red dirt road with wild monkeys scattering at their feet, and you have an idea of what it was like. It fulfilled every stereotype of African life that I’ve ever read! Needless to say it was great. Further, their looking for some more Peace Corps volunteers…..hmmm!

So overall it was a great weekend. It’s too bad that Kiran, another volunteer from June had to leave, it feels like I’ve known her for years. July is defiantly going to be lacking without her presence on camp. She actually purchased a ticket for me to fly to Budapest (where she’s gonna be living this year) to see her for spring break!!

Kendra, sounds like Ashville is awesome! Ok I guess I give you permission to move down there- but not until after I graduate!

Ok I have a some emails that I haven’t read cause the internet is taking forever, but I’m working on it. So if I haven’t replied it’s just cause I haven’t been able to open your email yet- I really do love reading them and hearing from everyone and I will reply eventually I promise!

Oh Canada!

2006-07-02T16:26:00.000+00:00

Seeing as how I'm American, and I'm in Ghana right now, I figured, logically, I must celebrate Canada Day! My Egypt friend Kayla is Canadian and invited me, Kiran and Jared (from the camp and no mom that's NOT Kiran, Jared and I!) to a Canada Day celebration at the High Commissioner’s (basically the same thing as anAmbassador as far as I can tell) House here in Accra. What she failed to tell me was that this would be a classy celebration. So when I showed up at her house before hand in shorts and a T-shirt Kayla’s mom (who works at the High Commission) took one look at me as said 'no no, you’re not going like that'

Her mom was very nice though and lent me a button up shirt to wear. Now, I'm not complaining at all because it was very gracious for her to take us, but the shirt she gave looked like it was straight out of a priest’s wardrobe, and combined with the shorts and tennis shoes I was also wearing made for a very comical outfit.

We show up at the high commissioners house, which is crawling with ambassadors and diplomats and such from all over the world all dressed in nice pressed suits. I stroll in this outfit, all scruffy from living at camp, and line up behind everyone in suits to shake the commissioner’s hand, as he does to everyone who came. He comes to me and as he reaches out to shake my hand and takes a steps back and, very obviously, looks me up and down with a ‘who the hell let this guy in’ kind of look on his face. I felt VERY out of place!

Later that night we met up with this Egyptian guy we had met earlier in the Lebanese part of Accra. And so started one of my weirdest nights so far in Ghana! We went out to a club that he’s friend owned, which turned out to be a strip club. Strip clubs I think are sketchy places in America, but this place took the word sketch to a whole new level. The guy was sweet, in a creepy, sleazy kind of way (I took a picture of him that I’ll post when I get that chance, he looks like the stereotype of a pimp- the silk shirt, the sunglasses-at-night, and everything), he was just SO eager to impress us with how rich and all he was. But we decided to get out after the strippers showed up!

On a completely different note, I’m halfway through my time at the camp now. We have a new batch of volunteers coming in and all the June people are leaving. Its amazing how fast the time goes and how little work I’ve gotten done so far! Two months is not going to be nearly enough time to settle in and do half the things I had wanted to. I know understand why the peace corps is a 2 year program- and I’m sure even that is cutting it close!

Ok running out of internet time. I’m going to Togo (the country just to the east of us) this next weekend so I might not be able to get online for a bit- just so no one worries! I’m excited though, I’ll finally get to try and practice some French!

Oz in Africa

2006-07-02T13:35:00.000+00:00

I had a great talk with my Egypt friend Maria the other day when she came to visit the refugee camp for a night. It was one of those 'why are we here?' kinda talks. This is what we came to conclude:

Everyone wants to be a superhero. On some secret level everyone dreams of saving the world, or maybe not that extreme, but at least everyone wants to be a somebody, no one wants to be a nobody. Back in the states I'm just you average broke college kid who drinks a little too much some weekends (err, ok maybe on some weekdays too...), but I'm basically a nobody. This isn't a reflection of a low self-esteem or anything, but merely a statement of fact; I'm low on the totem pole over there.

But here in Africa I'm a somebody. At the IT center full grown men look up to me and come to me with their problems. Almost anywhere I go people treat me with respect and deference, people come to me with their problems filled with unwavering confidence in my abilities to solve anything. I get the full red carpet treatment.

Yet it feels cheap on some (many) levels. I didn't earn this respect and treatment; it’s ascribed to me based on my skin color and my nationality, but not on my achievements. These refugees, many of who have been through far more than I will probably ever have to go through in my life, completely defer to me sometimes. It’s embarrassing when, even though I’ve never taken an IT course in my life, here at the IT center, the teacher I work with who has taken many IT courses and is an amazing teacher, is convinced that whatever I say is absolute law. I feel like I've been granted Papal Infallibility with out my asking.

The other day I went out with the water and sanitation crew to do some insecticide spraying, but I didn’t actually do anything. It’s a two man job and there were four of us, two locals and two international volunteers. The internationals were essentially just tagging along watching the others do the work. It was frustrating because we knew that we could be put to work somewhere else much more effectively, somewhere where we could actually work. When I got back I asked the other international volunteers what the point of us tagging along is and they said it’s basically because we are white. By bringing along two white boys the spraying crew was improving their credibility, people are more likely to trust us and let us into there house to spray. I’m essentially the Liberian Vanna White: just stand there and look pretty!

I feel like the Wizard in the Wizard of Oz, except I flew in on a plane instead of a balloon. To quote The Wizard from the song “Wonderful” in Wicked the Musical soundtrack:
“Won-der-ful
They called me Won-der-ful
So I said Wonderful
If you insist”

Coming here we’re told by everyone how wonderful we are to be doing what we’re doing and what a sacrifice we’ve made and such, so after a while you begin to think: wonderful? If you insist!

I just keep waiting for someone to look behind the curtain…

It's a small small world!

2006-06-25T12:55:00.000+00:00

I can't belive how small the world is! Just 10 minutes ago while i was walking down the street in the middle of Accra (thge capital city here) with these girls that i randomly met who are from near Dorking, England (where we lived a long time ago), I here this girl calling out my name. I turn around to see another girl from my high school in Egypt- Angie Cornell. She's here on a study abroad program from her uni in Calgery. Apprently she used to be best friends with one of my other Egypt friends who's here, Maria, but didn't know she was in town. So now we're all meeting up again for another Egypt reunion! Its kinda crazy how the international circuit is so connected...

Well I finnally got ill, nothing big just the usual traverls stomach problems, but its good. I was getting kinda worried, while everyone else in camp has been getting all kinda of stuff, everything from Malaria to Scabies, i had nothing. I thought maybe the universe was just saving up something special for me and that's why I was being spared, but luckly I got some diarreha this weekend...phew! It's rare that we go a week on camp without at least a handfull of people getting sick with something or the other simply due to the nature of the environment we live in. With sickness taking up such a large part of life here it naturally makes its way into our everyday conversation; its not unusual for our dinner talk to drift towards an update of everyone's bowl movements- who went today and how many times, who's constipated, who's got diarreha, who's puked and how many times. It's all quite lovely!

On a completly seperate note, Katie sent me a wonderful poem today, it really made me feel great, so i'll post it here (if katie dosn't mind):

My poem to you:
When I first met this boy he was wearing a hat,
And was not much of a chitchat,
Nor was he fat.
When it comes to airplanes he is no drat,
Although he does not support combat.
He drinks milk that is only nonfat
And for a short time he was in a frat.
His favorite animal is not a dingbat or wombat,
But just a boaring old cat.
Now he's in Ghana dealing with many Gnat's,
And other bugs you'd like to hit with a bat,
As well as toilet matters that go splat.
But anyone who knows this Matt
Is not left wondering where his heart is at.

Love from the Kindom of Saudi Arabia. -Katie

I thought it was pretty good, thank you katie! I did have a little bit of homesickness this weekend. Not really 'home' sickness, but just that feeling of wanting to be with your old friends and familly. I hope evryone's doing good, and that you're not too bored in Australia mom, and that you're still enjoyign being a grandmother Aunt Susie. Oh, kendra, i have an email i need to forward to you, Ill try and do that as soon as i get to an intenet cafe that will load my email (I have to go to different places to get on different web site, its weird, some sites work at some places and not others)

but the bathroom is calling again so I must wrap up. Everyone cheer for Ghana this tuesday against Brazil...they'll need all the cheer they can get!

Daily life

2006-06-21T14:24:00.000+00:00

Life has finally settled into a semblance of a routine here for me. Its no longer a hassle just to do the daily rounds like washing and sleeping and such and it feels good, like I'm starting to belong here or something. My day goes something like this:

5-6AM: Wake up to either one of the million roosters running around camp or to the blaring screech of the demonic preacher on a megaphone just up the path. This preacher would be comedic if he didn't start at 5AM sharp, didn't have such an horrible, evil raspy voice , or didn't preach about the "burning, rotting flesh of sinners in hell." But take these three things together and you have the makings of one really scare alarm clock! Some mornings I wonder, as i brush the cobwebs of sleep from my brain, just which circle of hell i woke up in!

6:30AM: Go around and empty the CBW (Children Better Way) trash bins that we set up around camp. Sometimes i question the point of this as we take the trash to the UN who then promptly dump the trash just outside the camp in an area known locally as "the gulf." But at least we're getting the trash away from the people...

8AM meet up with the wat/san. Department to go around and clean the drains (I wont describe that again...) or if its a Tuesday, to spray peoples bathrooms for bugs. By 1030-11AM I'm usually done with wat/san, at which time it’s usually so miserably hot that I retire to the house for lunch (made by our cook of course...gosh life is so tough eh?!) On sunny days, as i sit inside during mid-day, I can hear our tin roof crackling as it expands under the intense heat of the tropical sun. It usually too hot to touch everyone the inside (I found this out the hard way...between being burned and electrocuted by roofs here i think i need to stop touching them!)

Afternoons we have recreation time for the kids that Erin, Kiran and I run. We grab some kids and head out through the 'gulf', literally picking our way through trash and sewage to the field (As I’m typing this I realized that the smell of shit i smell is from my shoes- I still have someone's shit stuck on the bottom of my shoe from walking through there today that i still haven’t wiped off!). Once out there we have learned to give up all hope of having any control or order. We once tried a game of kickball (like baseball but you kick a soccer ball instead of hitting a baseball) but the kids kept stealing bases...literally, they would pick them up and run off with them! So now we just dump a couple soccer balls into the field of stand around while all the kids go nuts. The kids are cute but incredibly misbehaved and filthy (two of the other volunteers seems to have picked up Scabies, a skin parasite, from one of them). But as soon as I feel myself start to lose my patience with any of them i just try and remind myself of where they've come from and what they've been through. It’s amazing to watch them sometimes, their carefree happiness and uninhibited joy stand in such stark contrast to the tortured history of the land they've fled and the lives they live.

hehe just a side not...the Google Ads that i have on the top and side of the page are smart ads- they scan the content of whatever website their on and place advertisments for corresponding companies. As I'm looking at my page just now I can't help but notice that they're all for sewage and toilet solutions! Guess google's been reading about my work here...

Ghana Fever!

2006-06-18T14:11:00.000+00:00

I can't BELEIVE I missed the Ghana game! After watching how Czech played against the US I just assumed they would roll over Ghana but i guess not!

Me and another volunteer, Kiran from Toronto went out to see these water falls up by Lake Volta. It took a while to get there on tro-tros, about 5 hours for what should be a 2 hour trip, but it was worth it. Friday night we stayed in a swank hotel room. By swank I mean it had AC, a fan, a TV and running water (no hot water though). But it defintally was a little over our budget at 9USD a night per person. So Saterday we decided to stay out right by the water falls, in a place the guide book descreibed as a "Chalet over looking the Boti Falls". For 2.5USD a person/night we got what we paid for, and I don't think chalet is quite the right description. It was great to be out in the country though and the people are so amazningly friendly. After Egypt, as soon as anyone does anything nice for me I find myself wondering how much I'm going to have to tip the guy. But when I tired to hand one guy a tip here he just gave me a "aww what an ignorant little white kid" smile and told me to go buy myself something with it. I'm sure I greatly offended him but he was too nice to say anything.

The only downside was no electricity, which meant no TV to watch the world cup games. This was the first place in Ghana that I've been too where I couldn't find a place to watch the games. I got a general idea of what was going on from cheers and hollering coming from somewhere across the hills and forests, but it was dark and I had visions of wild monkeys hiding in the woods so i made no effort to trek over to the sounds (which turned out to be true according to the locals- but usually they only come out during the dry season). I also missed the USA game, which i wasn't holding out too much hope for until i read kendra's email- go team USA!!

Oops, my internet time is almost over, hope everbody's doing well!

Into week 3

2006-06-16T13:11:00.000+00:00

Wow, I can't believe I've already been here 2 weeks!

I had a busy week this week. Started out by going with one of the Water/Sanitation local volunteers (meaning he's a Liberian) to one of the clubs on camp (yes they actually have night clubs in the refugee camp!). Its basically just a area of concrete near a wooden bar that serves some beers, but still, i can say i've been clubing in a refugee camp! Some guy next to me kept trying to give me tips on how i should dance, "ya nee ta move ya body, la thees..." pshht- like i don't know how to dance, I should be giving him tips! (Katie, Steph, stop laughing!)

Next day however, my roomate got pretty sick. He came home from his HIV/AIDS outreach and just collapsed in a chair the rest of the day. We didn't think anything was really wrong until that evning when he had trouble making coherant sentances and had a 102*F (39*C) temperature. Sure enough he had malaria. Later in the week he started getting better until Wed. when he started having these nasty halucinations. He kept seeing dead cats in trees and dead bodies around and other such things: kinda scary. Then thursday night while we were all sitting around in the common area he jumped up screaming "GET IT OFF ME, GET IT OFF!" He thought there were bugs all over. We think it was a reaction with some other meds he was taking, but regardless, I wasn't too keen on sleeping in the same room with him that night!

The programs I'm working on in the camp have been plodding along this week. It sometimes gets increadibly frustrating though when nothing seems to work. We finally got current at the IT center so we could have class, this makes it the 2nd class to be held since I've arrived (we're supposed to meet everyday).

I got a bit of a shock during class though, literally- I was stretching and touched the celling and got an electric shock. I rushed to tell the main teacher (a local volunteer) who kinda of looked at me like I just told him the sky was blue when I explained about the roof. Apparently having a electrified roof is no big deal. I just wondered what would have happened if I wasn't wearing tennis shoes with a half inch of rubber protecting me. I don't touch roofs anymore on camp

We finally finished a Water and Sanitation educationaly pamphlet this week too (thanks Kendra for the clip art by the way!). It gives advice on how to keep camp and your self clean with simple things like "wash your hands before eating" and "through your trash in a bin". And then it explains how these things help prevent malaria (by keeping rubish off the streets it helps keep water flowing, meaning malarial mosquitoes can't lay there eggs) and cholera (of which there was an outbreak on camp recently). We were working in conjunction with local volunteers to make sure we were using language that liberians would understand (aka, 'dislodge bins' instead of 'empty bins'). But then, after this whole long meeting on how to educate the refugees on proper trash disposal and how its important, one of the local volunteers takes his empty water bag (water comes in little 500ml plastic bags- there a bitch to try and set down without spilling) and just chucks it into the grass! It feels like your banging your head into a brick wall!!

But other than that it felt like a productive week. To top it off it rained on thursday!

Life in Little Liberia

2006-06-13T12:23:00.000+00:00

I awoke this morning to the sound of a young girl scraming bloody murder. I peaked out
through the bars and mosquito net in my window and saw a half naked young girl getting
beating \with a stick on the front porch of our neighbours. Our water guy (the person who
gets the water from out well for our bucket showers), who was between me and our
neighbours and thought i was looking at him, cheerfull waved and greeted me good morning,
completly oblivious to the action going on behind him. Later, as when i left to go to
work, i noticed that she was tied up in front of their house.

Today we were set to do sewage cleanup again, yum! After doing this job i don't think
there is anything that can gross me out again! The camp is drained by a system of open
sewers and we pick a certain area in camp and set about clearing all of the trash out of
the sewer and then digging any sedements that are blocking water flow. Our goal is to
keep water flowing so that Malaria carrying mosquitoes don't have any place to lay their
eggs (they need stagnant water). The water flowing through these drains is raw, raw
sewage, straight from the toilet. Sometimes, people who can't afford toilets simply drop
their pants right over the drain and do their business in front of everyone, including us
who then have ot shovel it out and put it to the side (where people walk, but its the
better of the two options). I can't even begin to desribe the smell that comes from raw
sewage- human feceas, mixing with rotting garbage (and usually a few small dead animals and condoms, which isa good sign cause it means people are using them!),
all festering under the baking tropical sun and humidity (sorry if your eating!). We also do spraying for mosquitos, mice, roaches and such in peoples rooms, toilets and showers. Most peoples toilets are out-house style, with just a hole in the bottom where the waste goes. We went into one toilet today to spray and noticed that the hole had been entirly filled up to the brim with crap (and the hole is prolly 10feet deep- thats alot of crap!), then as we went in to spray i noticed that something was not right- it was moving! It was almost a solid mass of maggots and worms mixed in with the sewage, it was probabl the closet i have come to vomiting yet! But luckly i had my dig camera on me and i just had to take a video, so if anyone is interested when i get back....

Sorry, i promise my posts wont be so disgusting in the future, but i really had to share that with you all!

Oh, World Refugee Awarness day is coming up on June 20th, i had never heard of it before and im not exactly sure what its all about- but, be aware!

Missing post

2006-06-10T17:12:00.000+00:00

I have a post about camp life in "Little Liberia" but its in an email which i can't access. At the place where i can get on my blog, i can't get to my email where i saved all my blogs from when i couldn't get to my blog! Hopefully it will be up soon

For gods sake, never write on Ghanaian money!

2006-06-10T16:23:00.000+00:00

So the whole point of me going in to Accra was to catch up on some much needed relaxation time. I'm going in to visit my CAC friends Kayla and Maria and enjoy the luxury of A/C and running water and soft beds and all such stuff. I wasn't expecting to be so shocked walking into Kayla's house, but after just a week and a half in the camp western animities (yeah yeah i know my spelling is not even close!) seemed so unbelievable! It was amazing to be able to flush the toilet, to turn the taps and have water come out, to not be constantly drenched in sweat! It was probably a stupid thing though, I had just gotten used to the camp and I haven't been minding it or even noticing it so much anymore (i know it probably dosn't seem that way from all my complaining!)

We went out on the town last night to this Irish pub were we met some South African's throwing a house party to which we were invited. Kayla and Maria wanted to go home so left me direrction back to her house in the morning on a 2000 cedi note (about 20 US cents) since we didnt have any paper and i wasnt really going to miss the 20 cents. Well the next morning when I busted the money out to read the directions home while i was at a space to space ( like a pay phone, guys sit on little tables and rent out cell phones you can use by the minute) on the street all hell broke lose. This big guy stormed up to me with a look that i knew ment trouble on his face and spittle flying from his lips. Now usually i tried to avoid confontations at all cost in strange contries cause i am usually the one who is screwing up and doing something wrong, but i was so tired and hung over that i just snaped. The conversation went something like this (sorry for the gratuitous explicitives, but this is how it happend!):

-"Ey, fuck you man, what the fuck are you doing!"
me looking bewlidered and truely wondering what the fuck i was doing
-"Why the fuck did your write on this what the FUCK is your problem!"
me still wondering what the hell is going on
-"Hey obruni ( derogitory name for forgiener) I'm talking to you, whats your fucking problem man, i'll fucking punch you in your face obruni"
"shut up man, im just trying to get home, leave me alone" (I dont remember exactly what is said as i was too busy trying not to crap my pants)
"You dont fucking write on our money man, your disrespecting Ghana man; I write on your face! You don't write on American money"
"yes i do" (i actually dont think i have but i might someday)
"no you dont, don't fucking lie to me man, fucking obruni!

Looking around at the other people watching i realised that this wasn't just some crazy drugged out, drunk guy on the street, everyone was one HIS side. At this point a Rasta (rastafarian or something like that) stepped in a took me aside to explain that since i wrote on the money, no one would accept it making the note worthless. Since it costs the bank money to print money i was actually making ghana poorer. Now i really didnt explain to him that since it cost less than 20 US cents to print this bill that by me taking it out of circulation i was actaully making the rest of the money in Ghana worth slightly more (by an obserdly small amount, but still...)

Seeing that everyone was on his side i made a quick apology (which i REALLY should have done to begin with but i thought that might make it worse) and everyone returned to being the wonderfully friendly Ghanaian people that i know and acted like nothing happend (thats not sarcasim, the people are generally really friendly here. The Rasta guy, with his arm around my shoulder, then took out about 10 joints and wanted to know if i wanted to buy some pot off him (This is all taking place in the middle of the street). As visions of Ghanaian jails danced in my head I bid a hasty retreat with some lame excuse of needing a bathroom or something and made my way to Kayla's house a bit shaken but otherwise no worse for the ware and a little bit wiser to the ways of the Ghanaians.

Now I've got to make my way back to Little Liberia, hopefully i'll be able to get that other post with stuff about camp life up soon, but who knows here....

I miss everyone and really appriciate all the comments!

Heat

2006-06-04T08:05:00.000+00:00

Last night as I lay on top of my sheets, striped of everything except my boxers, I awoke in the middle of the night with to the most glorious sensation in the world: I was shivering! It was ever so faint and I was barely cold, but none-the-less, shivering! We're down at Cape Coast for a weekend break from the camp and I was enjoying the undescribable joy of sleeping under a working fan. The past week I had given up on the idea of even trying to remember what being cold felt like. Trying to get to sleep in our house in the camp is torture sometimes. No current (electricity) means no fan, and when there's no fan the air is dead still...not a breath. Usually as i lay in the feverish heat drifting in and out of sleep under the closterphobic confins of my mosquito net I catch myself dreaming that I just felt a draft of cold air on my sweat drenched back. But no, its just my sleep deprived, heat stoked mind playing cruel tricks on me. Laying in bed on these steamy, sticky nights my mind is my worst enemy.

But I really am having a great time! It gets very hard sometimes where all you want to do is be clean and not to sweat for just a little bit. But once you get used to be constantly sweaty from the moment you step out of the shower, from the moment you wake up, its not that bad. Plus everyone else is in the same boat so you don't have to worry about smelling because they're just as dirty!

Tomorrow I get down to real work and I kind of excited. I've been anxious to get down and get my hands dirty and feel like I'm actually doing something. Of course we have to get back to the camp first. Getting over here we had to jump through what I imagine are the typical hoops for travel in this part of the world. A group of us had negotiated a price to hire a tro-tro (a big mini-bus over-stuffed with way to many people), then after we had all piled smushed inside the driver told us to get out and get in the tro-tro sitting next to us that was falling apart because apparently he had negotiated a price for a tro-tro that wans't his (why he did this is?...well i just don't ask why, it keeps the blood presure down). Naturally we refused as we wanted to go in a tro-tro that was actually going to survive to the destination in one pice. So to make a long story short we sat baking in the sun skirming in our sweat negotiating for 15 min with lots of hands flying, yelling and such (I felt like i was back home again...though they arn't nearly as good actors here) then got out and found a new guy who would take us to a town in the opposit direction where upon we would catch another tro-tro for the Cape, nothing is simple here. I'm just glad we had a couple veterans with us to do all the talking, it makes it so much easier! Poor Malcom though, one of the volunteers, as we were switching tro-tros somebody swiped his digital camera...they are fast here!

Reunion in Accra

2006-05-31T09:24:00.000+00:00

I made it! Beyond all odds, I had almost no problems after re-aranging the flights on sunday, no concellations, re-routes, day long delays, or anything.

De-boarding the Emirates plane under the miday tropical sun onto the baking hot tarmak at the Accra airport I had a mini-panic attack. My thoughts went something like this:

First step off the plane: "oh shit, I'm really in Africa"
Second step: "oh shit I'm really in Africa and I don't know anyone!"
Third step : "Maybe I can run back into the plane and hide in the toilet until it flies back"

However, after showing up in the middle of this huge Africa city I find out that two of my high school friends are living here. One's working for the Canadian embassy and the other's doing medical research (kinda puts my ego in check!). So we arranged a little CAC reunion.

There's nothing better after a long day(s) of traveling to a strange and completly foreign land than to see a friendly face. So we kicked back and had a few of the local Star beers and got to talking about who's doing what, in what country, who's married, who's pregnant, etc. Then we got on to what they're doing here, it's my favroite part of my high school friends, they're all over the world doing pretty intersting stuff.
Kalya, the one at the embassy, is in charge of granting student visa's to Liberians trying to get into Canada, a heartbreaking job when she has to turn down smart, dedicated and determained kids just because they're too poor, while letting in the rich ones in just because they have the money (Canada's worried that the poor one's wouldn't leave once their visa's up....I wouldn't). Maria's working in a local hospital with kids infected with this flesh eating bacteria, the symptoms of which she kindly described over pizza. I don't think I couldn't handle her job, there's no cure and it's a bloody, messy and painful disease. In between describing her job and eating, she keeps giving out snipits of warnings, what not to do, not to eat, not to touch, least I contract various types of diseases (I think I got up to wash my hands in between every slice of pizza). Overall it was a great welcome to the country! Note to travelers: do not hang out with anyone in the medical field on your first day in a new country unless you want to spend the rest of the day trying to buy a return ticket home for tomorrow!

Don't worry though mom and dad, most of this stuff you can get anywhere in the world, and as long as you keep good hygine there's really no danger- just thought I'd better put that in!

Going back my hotel I was greeted to a nice tropical downpour. When it rains, damn it really rains! However with the rains came the bugs. I noticed my bed looked kinda sandy, then I noticed the sand was moving, then I noticed the sand were flees....hmmm. I was so jetlagged that I almost just said 'screw it' and slept on it, but I dragged myself to strip the sheets and cover it in my dirty cloths (I dont know why i didn't use my clean cloths, the dirty ones just made sense at the time!)

But now I gotta go take a wonderful ice cold shower (thats not sarcasim!) and get ready to meet the Chilren Better Way people), seeya!