B-backwards C-K-Backwards C-R

LEADING THE WAY




Imagine "Bokor" only the ‘o’s are backwards ‘c’s, its one of the few words you’ll see here written in Twi. I’ll come to the meaning in a second, but on this last day here in Ghana, I begin the reflection on what has happened.

Things I will not miss so much.

The traffic. It is actually organized chaos meaning that the cars are driving in one direction or the other, but other than that, every vehicle for itself! Which means lots of honking. I loathe honking. People honk for NO reason here. This is no “honk for Jesus” either. I’ve ridden in a cab four times and every time they honk about every seven seconds. And of course when I’m walking on the road, everytime a cab comes by, it honks. So much noise.

The mosquitos. Bastards gave me malaria, but I think I should use a different word, considering only FEMALES can give malaria. Women, they’re nothing but trouble!

The TV. I cannot deposit my frustration enough on the crap people watch here. Sometimes its on in the hostel lobby, but I reached my boiling point on the bus back from Ho. I was feeling sick, it’s 5:30 in the morning, and the bus driver is blasting this awful AWFUL soap opera thing while we’re driving back. After our first pit stop, someone mercifully told the driver to turn it off. The show is one big bickerfest. I don't get it! That’s all they do, argue about stuff you’d normally argue about on a day to day basis. Eating in the street, not cleaning up after yourself, etc. etc. And the people here, they eat it up, watching glossy-eyed at this rubbish where people yell at each other. Not funny, not entertaining, not scary, but people watch. Maybe its just a cult following like “Snakes on a Plane.”

The damned chickens. Ubiquitous and multiplying as ever. Did I mention we killed two last week? I say we, because I got to go around the “hunting party.” You do it by catching them at night, chasing them down and shining a flashlight in their eyes…it freezes, you grab it by it’s neck, game, set, match. But they’re moody, and they “think” (I say this tentatively, because I am as yet unsure, if that word can appropriately attached to this aninmal) it’s a swell idea to make as much racket as possible when they see light in the morning.

Paying for water. I miss being able to go to the sink and not have to think about having to store up on satchets of water…That's the life here though.

Things I will miss…

The greetings: If you say hello or how are you to somebody, youre likely to get a response distinct from one you may receive in the US. When greeting people here, I’ve noticed that the responses are somewhat along the lines of…
“ahhh” with a wave – meaning, “im fine”
“im fine” – the most typical response, meaning doing well thank you
“im very fine”- you know, doing super duper.
“yeaa!!” – Gotta love this one, I get this from the guys around the hostel, who always seem to be smiling and affirming things I would normally not deem necessary to affirm…but its great.
“It’s cool” or “Bokor” – My favorite response, so imagine… “how are you” “it’s cool man!” Haha. It kills me, makes me laugh all the time.

I’ve mentioned this before, but people love to say, you’re welcome, instead of hello, especially when returning to your domicile. Which brings me to another great thing about Ghanaian culture. If you live in Ghana, you have a community, and once you’re in, youre in. So when I leave for the day, guys are asking me where I’m going, because when you leave, you leave with purpose of coming back…and people want you to know that they at least care about your return. When people leave for a few moments, they’ll walk out of the lobby and say “I’m coming.” At first, I was quite confused by this, first, because all I could think was no no, you’re clearly not coming so much as leaving, and second, it comes completely without stimulus from someone asking. People like knowing where everyone is and making sure they’re accounted for in some respect. The two British guys worked the home-stay route, and said it was great, but if they went out for the evening, and came back past the midnight curfew, the family (the mother especially) would be fretting anxiously. People attach responsibility, more so than anywhere I’ve been, to those with whom they associate. That’s the only way to take care of each other in this society and developing world.

I’ll miss the people smiling at me, especially the kids, because I look different. They’re hilarious. It makes me happy knowing that they’ve been taught not to hate someone so different, but show kindness and respect. Very easy concept, right? If these people were strolling around some streets in the US 50 years ago, they get maybe physically and verbally harassed…because of the color of their skin. Skin color. Parents in the developed world teaching their children to hate perfect strangers. Thinking about it makes me shudder. The kids just don't care, its all love. It’s like the kids in To Kill a Mockingbird. They don't understand why white people hate black people, it doesn't register in their moral code, it doesn't make sense. People try to explain it, but it still doesn't jive with their desire to hang out and play in the tree house with whomever wants to play. Here, I’m constantly reminded of the inside part of people. Yea, youre different, so what? In fact, since, youre different and you probably don't know much about this place, I’m going to show you the wonderland that it is. Can-O-Corn. Biscuit in the basket.

I’ll miss every day being an adventure. My life will undoubtedly never be as unpredictable walking out the door every day than it has been in the last six weeks. Which is tough sometimes, but its welcoming too. Things go wrong, again, so what? A student was explaining this to me the other day, that everything here is more relaxed. If something goes wrong, as it often will, and business is slowed down, big deal. He enjoys this, but realizes it’s part of the reason that his country is less developed than mine. People often complain about how fast paced and rushed everyone is in big cities in the US, but that’s the price that needs to be paid for moving development forward. But I sure don't mind the pace of things here.

Tro-Tros. I’ll miss bobbing around crappy roads packed in with a bunch of people. I’ve sat next to breastfeeding women, been in a trotro with vomiting children, and of course, had the pleasure of goats serenading me all the way home. But usually, its great and the mates never rip you off. There’s a good amount of bickering that goes on amongst the travelers and the mate, but to me, it’s all entertaining.

Unadulterated Nature. When you get out of the city, nature is just that, all natural. I couldn't get enough of it.

Safety. I always felt safe, always. One thing I hate about the US is guns. Guns frighten me really. They kill things. Nobody has guns here. It really puts the “free” in free country. Police have guns slung over their shoulder, but it looks like Mattel shipped them over. Most of them are half made of wood. I walked around for six weeks and had no trouble. Try being black and walking around six weeks by yourself in Alabama, today, and see what kind of trouble you find. You’ll find something I’m sure. Amendments protecting rights are great, but not when their original intention is to support the local militia from rulers thousands of miles away. I would say get with the program, but it’s too late. Crow Island, Columbine, VT, and it’s only going to get worse. I digress. I just don't understand why people get so attached to things that kill other things.

I’ve augmented some of my skills while here as well.

Walking skills. Gotta learn to walk. I wish I had a step counter to see how many steps I took, but it’s the best way to get around, and have some worthwhile interactions as a foreigner. The more you walk, the more you talk to people, the more you learn about Ghana.

Smiling skills. If you smile, life will be better, guaranteed. People will respond better to you, and hassle will be eliminated.

Blinking skills. It’s unbelievable dirty, dusty and sandy in the city to the extent where I find myself blinking more forcefully and rapidly then Magglio Ordonez with the bases chucked. Oh Mags.

I like to think Ghana has toughened me up a bit. I mean, I walk everywhere, eat local food, take cramped smelly transportation, got malaria, come home take a cold shower, bang a little on my chest, and I’m good as Ghanaian with the bleached skin. Nuh uh. Even at $12 a night here at the hostel, I was living the high life over here. I don't know how else to say it, people have it rough. They sell goods atop their head, wading through traffic hoping to grab a customer, all through the summer heat and humidity of equatorial Africa. Then they go back to the outskirts of the trotro station and sleep alongside of the rest of the vendors on cardboard, on sidewalks, on rocks…Oh and the mosquitos are keeping a nice watch on them as well. It’s awful really, and that's what a good percentage of the city dwellers do here. Dudes man trotros, and chicks place goods atop their heads. There’s a picture of a little boy who, when saw me confused in the station, asked me where I was going. He took my hand and led the way. He’s getting ready to drive trotros one day when he’s old enough. They do their best at what they do, but almost no person here is given the shot I have been given at life. Almost nobody. People over here would do anything for education and when I say I’m here doing research, they get excited. They want more flow of knowledge in Ghana. They know their country has the resources; they just need to get the support to tap them. Yet when I see the signs, posters, t-shirts (I have one) and billboards all celebrating the 50 year anniversary of its independence, sometimes I wonder, what are they celebrating? The barren eyesore that is Independence Square (a place solely used for celebrations) on prime location in Accra, is perfectly indicative of Ghana using its resources to celebrate at the cost of its people. I look at people using wells, residing in mud huts and living off their farm land and I think, was this exactly the same 50 years ago? More importantly, will this be the same 50 years from now?? Probably. Life in the city is becoming increasingly business friendly, but you venture outside and you go back to 18th century lifestyles. From an aid standpoint, Bill gates said it best (thanks Dad), “We can make market forces work better for the poor if we can develop a more creative capitalism – if we can stretch the reach of market forces so that more people can make a profit, or at least make a living, serving people who are suffering from the worst inequities…If we can find approaches that meet the needs of the poor in ways that generate profits for business and votes for politicians, we will have found a sustainable way to reduce inequity in the world. This task is open-ended. It can never be finished. But a conscious effort to answer this challenge will change the world.” It can happen, private and public sector support programs alike. It can happen. I hope I can make it happen. I’ve learned how tremendously difficult it is though. Costs are high, especially when reaching those most in need. Money often gets misplaced in the still corrupt government here. Infrastructure, health care, more outreach. It’s all needed. Maybe, if we’re smart, we’ll do something to help.

This last day here has been surreal. Which reminds me, I can't wait to get off these malaria pills that have me waking up feeling like Joan Miro just used my brain as his canvas. So much has happened in six weeks, I'm ready to come home, but I will be forever grateful that this oppurtunity fell into my lap. No regrets.

Malaria falciparum, and a bacterial infection to boot

Malaria Falciparum with a bacterial infection to boot.

Feeling well enough to take the trip up north, I board a bus and head up to Ho, stay at the YMCA for $5 and wake up to see some large animals. After a nice nature walk with no sighting of animals, I head back feeling pretty good about being out of Accra on my last week here, but the night consists entirely of severe stomach cramps, diarrhea and a trip to the clinic at 3:30. On to the 5:00 am bus a couple hours later back to Accra and to the Legon hospital to see a doctor who tells me that the malaria I contracted, was the uber-bad kind that often has complications…Thanks for telling before. I am now taking antibiotics for the bacterial infection that he thinks is causing the cramps and runny stomach. Quite a hectic week it’s been, but a couple days of rest and reading will do just fine until the trip home.

How different would this picture look 50 years ago? Electricity...Nope. Water...out the pump.

My guide George. What's the gun for? My protection he says, although I imagine that if he had shot it, the only thing coming from that gun would be a pop and a white flag that would pop out reading 'bang'.... And for the picture below, New Jersey, its everywhere...unfortunately.

NothingButNets.net

Matthew Henneson, Age: 27.

The stream of consciousness begins…

I’m sitting having a conversation with the manager of the credit department of ProCredit, a meeting which I have been looking forward to (permissible use of preposition at end of clause, right Mom?) and I am struggling to concentrate. The issue is, I’m not sure why, my head feels fine, not nauseous, but something’s off. I end the meeting on a decent note with Mario and he tells me to keep him informed on my research and to let him know if there is anything he can clarify, etc.etc. I feel pretty light headed, but again not too bad and try to take down some water, but it’s as if my body doesn't want it. Weird. A miserable hour trotro ride later I’m back at the hostel and struggle up the stairs to my room. I don't have malaria though, I mean I’ve gotten honestly no more than 9 mosquito bites since I’ve been here and they have all come when I haven’t noticed. I sleep under mosquito netting, I take my antimalarial meds on time, and I use bug spray. This comforts me. I’m thinking it was probably the Waadkye (pronounced wa-jee consisting of the beans, rice, veggy, spice combination described in a previous entry). I decide to try and walk it on out, but am growing weaker by the minute and the manger of the hostel, probably noticing my odd behavior asks if I’m alright. I say, uhh, not really and describe the weakness, muscle soreness and the overriding feeling that my body is beginning to ossify. Each movement has some form of struggle and he says, ok, I’m taking you to the hospital. ‘Ok, thanks, but I can just grab a’… ‘no’ We are going now to the hospital, if its malaria, you should be treated right away. He brings me to the “Accident and Emergency center” wherein I experience the nadir of the entire process. At this point, I feel like someone else is behind the wheel of my body. The people waiting are, obviously, feeling some sort of misery as well waiting to be treated, and the waiting room is a square shaped open-air hot bed that seats 20 people. It’s my first time in an African hospital and as such the scene, coupled with the disease makes for quite the foreboding experience. There are people lying in stretchers in the hall and there is one room where they could fit 10 patients. The manager of the hostel waits with me an hour and a half until a doctor performs an evaluation, but before I enter I can’t help but notice that the two doctors strolling around the place look like their doctor robes were made for the Incredible Hulk. I mean they were dragging all over the place and drooping down their arms, and all I can think about when one of the doctors is walking towards me is that he’s a long beard, wand, and a Michael Jackson’s disease shy of introducing himself as Albus Dumbledore. Ok, which is fine, because at this point, I’m willing to take any potion that will help the cause. The doctor takes my temperature, 104, takes a look…”yep, you probably have malaria.” Then it’s off to get my blood sampled and in to a hospital ward to get the treatment. Although the fever made me feel terrible, receiving treatment by these people was comforting knowing they’d done it a zillion times. They stick an IV in me (by the way, I got three shots and everytime I flinched all the nurses start whispering “sorry sorry sorry sorry” as rapidly as possible, which is kind of funny as I try to mutter “don't worry!” to every one of their sorry’s) and then comes the comic relief moment that can be summed up…

Emergency Trip to the hospital: 50,000 cedis ($6)

Injections, Blood Test, antimalaria pills and IV: 420,000 cedis ($45)

Lying in a hospital bed with a 104 fever and seeing the look on the young nurse assistant’s face when she’s told by the IV injecting nurse to take off my pants to administer the injection: mmmmmm priceless.

Off come my pants, in goes another injection and now all I need is rest + time. Maybe it’s just me, but when I get a high fever like this, I don’t get delirious, but my thoughts get kind of wild and I think about what is actually happening inside my body. For some reason my mind wandered to those “The Magic School Bus” books and specifically to the one where the Bus goes inside someone’s body and they cruise around the red blood cells. I think about those doughnut-shaped red blood cells and now I imagine these malaria dudes pretending the blood cells are basketball hoops and slamming malaria nuggets down them and turning them black. Another surreal, but real nonetheless, moment came when I came to dispose of my first IV bag and was sitting at the nurses desk, feeling not to swell and waiting for the nurse when I turn to the TV. And guess who’s on TV?…Oprah. And I mean why not, she always makes you feel good, right? Well tonight she’s reporting for the first time in US history, 51% of women (I assume eligible ones) are single instead of married. Great, thanks Oprah. Isn’t her show supposed to be something along the lines of How to Save the World: For Dummies? Malaria, Ghana, Oprah. I’m confused.

Anyhow I had two roommates who were great and when their families came to visit them, they always checked to see how I was doing. I spent the night, my fever went down, and I was out the next morning.

Today is Monday and am feeling much better and plan on taking my trip still up to the Volta Region making sure to take it as easy as possible.

Malaria. I am a relatively healthy 21 year-old who received proper treatment and care within four hours of my first symptoms. The illness escalated like nothing I have ever experienced and brought me the highest fever I believe I’ve ever had. Now that it is mostly over and I can stop thinking about my own health, I can only imagine what it must be like for a 2 year old malnourished child with no hospital, inadequate shelter, worm-infested water and no medicine. About 3,000 people die from this disease…a day. Over a million a year, consisting mostly of these poor children, who, upon acquiring disease, have little chances of surviving it. So here is my shoutout to http://nothingbutnets.net. It’s a great way of getting bed nets to those in need. Even one of my favorite sports columnists, Rick Reilly, recently took a trip to Nigeria to distribute some nets. Here is his short three minute video…http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7pUtkjYuE4, and here is his article http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2006/writers/rick_reilly/04/25/reilly0501/ just in case you want to have a look.

I’m glad its over and I hope there are many more great experiences to come in the week I have left in Ghana.

Boti Falls

On Saturday I headed to the Boti Falls to see some more water fall methodically into more water, yet somehow I'm entertained by this? This was a completely different waterfall experience than last week because this one was about 6X as big and this time the water fell into more water, which allowed for some swimming. So not really a completely different experience, being that they both times it was water + gravity. When I stepped off the trotro towards the nature area, I met two British guys who were taking six weeks off work and had come to Ghana to volunteer coaching soccer (can it get any better?) and take the weekends to travel around. These guys were completely nutters and we're in such a rush to get to Ghana that they forgot to leave the crazy pills at home. Which made them seem like normal human beings...only in 45th gear the whole day. It was great though, and a nice change of pace as they talked enthusiastically about their home stay, traveling and one's desire to purchase a goat, bring it back on the trotro, slaughter it, and feed themselves for four days straight, "just for the laugh of it." Who wants in? Darren's idea comes much to the chagrin of the older James who compares such ideas to David Beckham playing ball in the US. They were talking about how they decided it would be a swell idea to take a bus to the Burkina Faso, one of the poorest nations in the world, starting from Accra. The journey was set to take a day, turned into three, and by the time they reached the border, decided they had to turn back. They wanted to try again, but they heard of a bus on the same route that was raided by armed highway robbers and they asked the guy at the bus station how often in happened? Oh, you know, one or twice a month. Once or twice a month! An indicative statement of the bordering nations that are rife with instability.
We toured around finding Umbrella Rock, a palm tree with three necks, and the mammoth falls. The book said the water was swimmable so it was down to my underwear and into the water. I took the camera along for the ride, but most of the pictures will have to wait as uploading them over here takes about 3 goat years. It was crazy though, the closer I swam to the falls, the harder I got propelled away as if it were two similar sides of a magnet. Only two weeks left, up next is some loan distribution on Thursday followed by the adventure up to the largest man made lake in da world.