Sunday brought another trip two hours west of
Friday, July 20, 2007
Cape Coast
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Faces, pronunciation, energy and the gardens of Aburi
Goat
Women lugging sticks up a hill, I offered to help, they refused...naturally
BIG tree
BIG spider
BIG wormy guy
The kidsAlmost two weeks of Ghanaian culture and a couple things continue to fascinate me the more I try to get to know these people. First, I have noticed that in about one in three people have a peculiar scar(s) right below the cheekbone sometimes multiple and on both sides of the face. It is not the scar of a cut, but more like a separated indent of about three cm long and one cm tall. Once I know what this is about and once I get a close up of it, I’ll share the knowledge. Also, I’ve found myself beginning to pronounce words like the people here, due to the fact that almost every time I ask a question or begin a conversation, I get the pardon me and puzzled look right back. This means pronouncing all ‘o’s like home…So when we talk about the hostel instead of ‘hastel’ like I would normally say it, it has become ‘hoestal.’ Clear? What’s really working better is picking up on the local language, as some of the workers around the hostel have been teaching me. One dude passed me on a bike yesterday and asked me how I was doing in the local Twi, and it took me a couple of seconds to get the gears going, but I eventually responded in kind, and he threw me a thumb’s up and ‘that's very gooood.’ People like it here when I know something about their country whether it be words, history, politics, or economics and they try the best to welcome me even more. In fact, on my way back from today’s adventure, I had a conversation with a chemistry student and he was psyched that I was over here studying finance and the trouble it has encountered. After being preoccupied with how I excited I was that I was finding good and useful information, I’ve realized how inefficient credit programs here can be. This guy was talking about how hard banks are on people and complaints are coming from the bottom of the social ladder all the way up. Loan rates are usurious in most cases, and collateral is egregious…Facts I was hoping to find to the contrary. Credit institutions are trying to become more financially and operationally stable and the way they do that is raising interest rates and collateral, while narrowing the depth of outreach to the poor. The institutions loaning to the extreme poor are staying afloat only by donor groups, and insufficient capital is being provided by the government, notorious for its corrupt allocation of resources. Right, so I asked him what kind of career he was planning to pursue and he brought up the impending energy crisis that is beginning to worry many Ghanaians. They’ve been supplied with power from a single dam that was built during the tenure of the nation’s first president 50 years ago. I originally thought that the three days power on, one day power off thing was limited to my hostel, but turns out I was way off and in fact is applied to the entire country. They’ve divided the sectors so that everybody doesn't lose power at the same time, but the other day when Accra didn't have it, generators filled the streets and made for an extra smelly, loud and contaminated day. This guy was telling me how this dam is starting to wear down and the government had originally envisioned it lasting 40 years and they are now beginning to scramble. Solutions I ask? This student is hoping to work in/develop/increase solar energy…Booya. The sun, yep, they have that. Loads of it. It of course isn’t that easy, or at least until foreign enterprises start investing in this country.
Today though, I took my first solo trip out into the nature of Ghana to a place called Aburi north of the city. Our tro-tro wound up the side of the mountain to a small town wherein lies the 65 hectare gardens of Aburi. In said gardens I saw the largest tree, worm and spider I have ever seen in my life. There was a myriad of footpaths and I descended one down and out as far away from the people I could get and popped out meeting a group of six children hanging out under their “roof” (composed of some bamboo and big leaves). They gave me some directions, but I didn't want to leave without getting a picture of the oldest boy and his Bulls shirt. Theirs tons of Bulls shirts and jerseys over here, but this one, noting that the Bulls were established in 1964, was my favorite. Right after I whipped out the camera, the other kids ran over to join, all except the crying one in the background. Lots of children, no shoes, tattered clothes, no real home…That’s the story all too often here, and you can see the boy has a machete in his hand that he uses to help his father cut down the brush. I trounced a while and headed back during the torrential 15 minute rain shower that came. I walked back through town where there was a funeral (during which all the women wear black dresses and the men huge thick black robes) and took the tro-tro back home after an exhausting day.
Today though, I took my first solo trip out into the nature of Ghana to a place called Aburi north of the city. Our tro-tro wound up the side of the mountain to a small town wherein lies the 65 hectare gardens of Aburi. In said gardens I saw the largest tree, worm and spider I have ever seen in my life. There was a myriad of footpaths and I descended one down and out as far away from the people I could get and popped out meeting a group of six children hanging out under their “roof” (composed of some bamboo and big leaves). They gave me some directions, but I didn't want to leave without getting a picture of the oldest boy and his Bulls shirt. Theirs tons of Bulls shirts and jerseys over here, but this one, noting that the Bulls were established in 1964, was my favorite. Right after I whipped out the camera, the other kids ran over to join, all except the crying one in the background. Lots of children, no shoes, tattered clothes, no real home…That’s the story all too often here, and you can see the boy has a machete in his hand that he uses to help his father cut down the brush. I trounced a while and headed back during the torrential 15 minute rain shower that came. I walked back through town where there was a funeral (during which all the women wear black dresses and the men huge thick black robes) and took the tro-tro back home after an exhausting day.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Microfinance
A picture I took in a small village outside Winneba. This is a young girl who lives with her family on the side of the road. On her right leg she has a fairly large infection where it looks like worms took their toll. You see it all the time here, but you don't get used to it...
...And hopefully places like this can help.Today was quite the successful day as far as the networking and microfinance aspects of my stay are concerned. Since my first meeting last friday with my main contact here, Mr. Abbey, I have met with three microfinance institutions and will meet with another tomorrow and the more I go along, the more time I feel I need to meet with all the names I have been getting. Which of course is a good thing, but it can be overwhelming too. Today I met with the microfinancial manager of the Women’s World Banking Savings and Loan Company and it went as well as any meeting could have gone. Working under the auspices of Mr. Abbey and throwing around Mr. Abbey’s name, which I do liberally upon his recommendation, has truly brought me into contact with some legitimate institutions willing to give me some of their time. The one interesting thing I have noticed about the location of the institutions is that they are always outside the cities in poorer areas in order to, I suppose, more easily reach those in need. Which means I walk by blocks of impecunious city dwellers into an office of tailored suits and bosses scolding their employees for too much facial hair (yes, a man grabbed a worker’s tuft on his chin and told him to get rid of it). Anyhow, the man who met with me today was as prepared as he could be with his laptop at the ready to regurgitate statistics upon my request and he was happy to help. Just to give an idea of what these meetings are like I’ll give some of the details so apologies if this gets a bit dull.
My research focuses on the five major avenues of microfinance, them being financial NGOs, Rural and Community banks, Savings and Loans Companies, Credit Unions, and Susu Collectors (A more rural practice where people can save their money without having to travel miles to a bank). My first goal is to acquire information about one institution of each category. Information I’m hoping to collect includes but is definitely not limited to interest rates, ratio of women to men borrowers, average loan size, depth of outreach, ratio of active savers to borrowers, % required savings, % of staff composed of credit officers, and repayment rate. A little profile on Women’s World Banking shows that, ironically, only 60% of members are women, the average loan is $1,500, 8:1 savers to borrowers, interest rates run from 21%-36%, repayment rates are up to 99% (although they’ve upped the ante on collateral more on that later), and two out of seven staff members is a credit officer.
The institituion previously relied strictly on donor funding, but as of January, when many things changed, they have become an independent commercial institution relying on no outside funding. As is customary among MFIs , they require that their members be trained on the terms of their institution and how to handle their money appropriately. Unlike the RCB and FNGO of last week, WWB ensures that they finance working capital, meaning they are shaping what their money is being used for. When they loan out money, they make sure they know exactly where it’s going and how they are going to be repaid. They require in some programs that 25% of the loan be saved in order to promote good financial strategy for the borrower. The collateral is an important issue, because the crux of Dr. Yunus’s Grameen Bank (and what eventually one him and the bank the Nobel Peace Prize) is that you can dole out uncollateralized loans to the poor, and through efficient strategies, they will pay back…97% of the time! WWB is adding the social pressure to collateralized loans by threatening to seize assets (vehicles, closing shops) so that the community will see that a certain individual is not running a trustworthy business. In January they addressed their loan portfolio which had 80% of borrowers at risk of finding themselves in arrears. It seems that their strategy is working for them, but it doesn't work out so well for the poor. This methodology means that those who have the least stability (the illiterate, poor) are charged the most usurious rates, which doesn't aid in the alleviation of poverty…which we hope microfinance can do. Anyway, the guy was quite knowledgeable and helpful and at the end when I asked if he could refer me to other institutions he gave me names addresses phone number and directions to three of them, one of which, ProCredit, is high on my list of institutions.
A note on MF…As I am studying the varying techniques of MFIs in rural and urban settings, the five categories previously described exist under the umbrella of microfinance. Although, as the rural bank manager described to me last Friday, they cannot make loans over 10 million cedis ($1,000) because it lies outside the domain of “microfinance.” Sure enough, after my meeting I was directed to ProCredit (an institution often mentioned under microfinancial terms) where there brochure reads “Loan amount rage from GHC 10,000,001 – GHC 99,000,000.” This means that to be recognized as an official RCB, your loans must not exceed GHC 10,000,000 and those involved in S&L must loan out at rates greater than GHC 10,000,000.
My research focuses on the five major avenues of microfinance, them being financial NGOs, Rural and Community banks, Savings and Loans Companies, Credit Unions, and Susu Collectors (A more rural practice where people can save their money without having to travel miles to a bank). My first goal is to acquire information about one institution of each category. Information I’m hoping to collect includes but is definitely not limited to interest rates, ratio of women to men borrowers, average loan size, depth of outreach, ratio of active savers to borrowers, % required savings, % of staff composed of credit officers, and repayment rate. A little profile on Women’s World Banking shows that, ironically, only 60% of members are women, the average loan is $1,500, 8:1 savers to borrowers, interest rates run from 21%-36%, repayment rates are up to 99% (although they’ve upped the ante on collateral more on that later), and two out of seven staff members is a credit officer.
The institituion previously relied strictly on donor funding, but as of January, when many things changed, they have become an independent commercial institution relying on no outside funding. As is customary among MFIs , they require that their members be trained on the terms of their institution and how to handle their money appropriately. Unlike the RCB and FNGO of last week, WWB ensures that they finance working capital, meaning they are shaping what their money is being used for. When they loan out money, they make sure they know exactly where it’s going and how they are going to be repaid. They require in some programs that 25% of the loan be saved in order to promote good financial strategy for the borrower. The collateral is an important issue, because the crux of Dr. Yunus’s Grameen Bank (and what eventually one him and the bank the Nobel Peace Prize) is that you can dole out uncollateralized loans to the poor, and through efficient strategies, they will pay back…97% of the time! WWB is adding the social pressure to collateralized loans by threatening to seize assets (vehicles, closing shops) so that the community will see that a certain individual is not running a trustworthy business. In January they addressed their loan portfolio which had 80% of borrowers at risk of finding themselves in arrears. It seems that their strategy is working for them, but it doesn't work out so well for the poor. This methodology means that those who have the least stability (the illiterate, poor) are charged the most usurious rates, which doesn't aid in the alleviation of poverty…which we hope microfinance can do. Anyway, the guy was quite knowledgeable and helpful and at the end when I asked if he could refer me to other institutions he gave me names addresses phone number and directions to three of them, one of which, ProCredit, is high on my list of institutions.
A note on MF…As I am studying the varying techniques of MFIs in rural and urban settings, the five categories previously described exist under the umbrella of microfinance. Although, as the rural bank manager described to me last Friday, they cannot make loans over 10 million cedis ($1,000) because it lies outside the domain of “microfinance.” Sure enough, after my meeting I was directed to ProCredit (an institution often mentioned under microfinancial terms) where there brochure reads “Loan amount rage from GHC 10,000,001 – GHC 99,000,000.” This means that to be recognized as an official RCB, your loans must not exceed GHC 10,000,000 and those involved in S&L must loan out at rates greater than GHC 10,000,000.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Winneba and The Coast
Sunday brought about the most interesting day thus far with a trip to a small village outside Winneba on the coast of Ghana. Haruna and I headed out, picked up his friend Isaac in another town and then headed for the sandy beaches. The town going down to the coast was my first look at utter poverty. There is an interesting protocol for taking photos here and I thought it would’ve been inappropriate to take any, but the stench was one of the worst ever to hit the nostrils with garbage everywhere, there places where people relieved themselves in the street, and it was the saddest I have seen people here. We walked up the shore in a boat village towards a river we needed to cross to get to the actual beach and up to the place where Isaac’s family live. The river was too deep to ford the river so in order to spare our oxen, we hired a nice man to help us across the river in his canoe. And this, was the coolest part of the day. I wanted to keep my shoes on, because there is all kinds of crap here you don't want your feet getting in, but again it would have been highly inappropriate and so we waded into the river where the canoe and the canoe man waited. There is a picture below (you may have to click on it to see) of said man taking us across and if you look closely you will see it. Yes, uh huh, yep, that’s a slingshot. Booya. You can have have the numchucks, the sai, the bo staff and the swords…I’m taking the sling shot. I was so amped to see a dude toting a sling shot as his weapon of choice, I forgot to ask what exactly he used it for, so when my momentary shock subsided and I came to, I asked Haruna later what he used it for. Small birds. If I’m a small bird within a 2 mile radius of this canoe man and his sling shot, I would might as well fly my way to bird heaven cause I’d be toast.
Ok so on it was down the beach, and we came upon a beach community doing some group fishing, and if you look at the picture below you can see basically the entire community working on one net. Someone canoes out into the ocean and plops a massive net attached to a long thick rope and then about two hours later everyone comes and heaves on that rope until they get dinner. On we went and stopped briefly for some cocunt milk straight from the coconut. I remember trying to tap into the coconut milk with my friends in Puerto Rico and not having such a great experience, but here we had this 12 year kid who cut (he and his brother also climb the trees themselves and knock them down) this thing like a pro and it made for quite a refreshing $.50 snack. We continued on toward the village where his family lives and on the way we came across a really primitive looking beach village that you can see in the pictures. They all lived in straw huts and we there is where we stopped for some lunch of shrimp, spicy plantain dough, and pepe (onions, peppers, and lots of spice and hot stuff). The shrimp were full on shrimp complete with head and Isaac and Haruna started eating them like chips. I picked one up and said being the foreigner chump that I am, oh so you eat the head too, and noticing my incredulity, Haruna responded saying something like, the blood (pointing to the bulging eyeballs) it makes you strong…Almost as good as my Dad telling me that bustle sprouts would put hair on my chest. On we continued where the madness of being a pale white foreigner only grew more intense. The other day I got a new addition to Obruni which was was Obruni Coco meaning, ironically, red haired white man, or so it was explained to me. Normally I am called Obruni about 5-10 times a day sometimes with people just walking on the street and passing me saying Obruni and that’s it. It’s really odd sometimes, I mean imagine it, it’s like someone saying, ‘white man’ to you and then nothing else. Anyway, as we got to Isaac’s old stomping grounds the kids went nuts. They come out to the edge of the road waving their hands saying either ‘Obruni bye-bye” or “Obruni gayu” which means really really really white man. It was pretty cool seeing how happy these kids were with the sight of a foreigner. I earlier mentioned that people think I’m straight from Mars, but under normal circumstance I imagine that when the aliens arrive, people won’t be running into the street smiling…But maybe these people just might. One of the pictures I have below is indicative of how kids react when I try to take a picture of them. The kid in the front is ready for Hollywood while the kid in the back wants no part of it. It was a sweet day and made for encountering great places, food and people.
Group fishing
Canoe man man man
Ready for Hollywood, one in the back not so much
Ok so on it was down the beach, and we came upon a beach community doing some group fishing, and if you look at the picture below you can see basically the entire community working on one net. Someone canoes out into the ocean and plops a massive net attached to a long thick rope and then about two hours later everyone comes and heaves on that rope until they get dinner. On we went and stopped briefly for some cocunt milk straight from the coconut. I remember trying to tap into the coconut milk with my friends in Puerto Rico and not having such a great experience, but here we had this 12 year kid who cut (he and his brother also climb the trees themselves and knock them down) this thing like a pro and it made for quite a refreshing $.50 snack. We continued on toward the village where his family lives and on the way we came across a really primitive looking beach village that you can see in the pictures. They all lived in straw huts and we there is where we stopped for some lunch of shrimp, spicy plantain dough, and pepe (onions, peppers, and lots of spice and hot stuff). The shrimp were full on shrimp complete with head and Isaac and Haruna started eating them like chips. I picked one up and said being the foreigner chump that I am, oh so you eat the head too, and noticing my incredulity, Haruna responded saying something like, the blood (pointing to the bulging eyeballs) it makes you strong…Almost as good as my Dad telling me that bustle sprouts would put hair on my chest. On we continued where the madness of being a pale white foreigner only grew more intense. The other day I got a new addition to Obruni which was was Obruni Coco meaning, ironically, red haired white man, or so it was explained to me. Normally I am called Obruni about 5-10 times a day sometimes with people just walking on the street and passing me saying Obruni and that’s it. It’s really odd sometimes, I mean imagine it, it’s like someone saying, ‘white man’ to you and then nothing else. Anyway, as we got to Isaac’s old stomping grounds the kids went nuts. They come out to the edge of the road waving their hands saying either ‘Obruni bye-bye” or “Obruni gayu” which means really really really white man. It was pretty cool seeing how happy these kids were with the sight of a foreigner. I earlier mentioned that people think I’m straight from Mars, but under normal circumstance I imagine that when the aliens arrive, people won’t be running into the street smiling…But maybe these people just might. One of the pictures I have below is indicative of how kids react when I try to take a picture of them. The kid in the front is ready for Hollywood while the kid in the back wants no part of it. It was a sweet day and made for encountering great places, food and people.
Group fishing
Canoe man man man
Ready for Hollywood, one in the back not so muchMonday, July 9, 2007
Dzorwulu, Weija and Fufu
The last 24 hours have been all new experiences filled with happiness, frustration, and a little bit of fear. Last night Haruna took me out to the small town where he lives about 20 minutes drive from the hostel. People seem to have a lot of respect for him since he works outside the village where people either sell goods on the street, or farm the little area of land that they have and as it turns out, he has a wife and a one year old daughter to take care of as well. The people here really stress ideals of pride, honor, love, family, respect, because they absolutely have to. Exiting the womb a Ghanaian is like pulling the shortest straw on life…at least that’s how we see it. Your life expectancy is more than 20 years shorter than that of a developed nation. 20 years. Long time. Of course that’s not how they see it and it seems as though they want to waste none of the time they have complaining, fighting, sulking, or feeling anything but happy to be alive as a Ghanaian. Getting to know Haruna, I have been able to politely prod into how he and his people live and how they understand one another. I am currently reading a book titled, Mutual Aid, by Petr Kropotkin and every day I read I find explanations that appropriately sum up the sentiment here:
“These folk so much identify their lives with that of the tribe, that each of their acts, however insignificant, is considered as a tribal affair. Their whole behaviour is regulated by an infinite series of unwritten rules of propriety which are the fruit of their common experience as to what is good or bad-that is, beneficial or harmful for their own tribe.”
I don't mean to compare this society to that of a tribal one, it just seems that when anyone needs anything in the community, they share the burden and leave no one to fend for themselbes. On our way to his town, Haruna paid for the trip out there (about 25 cents) and I thanked him and said I would pay on the way back and this guy behind us says to me with a big smile, no no you don't understand, that’s not how it works in Ghana. Your friend pays for you, because he his is your friend, and here in Ghana, we may be hungry, but we will always take care of each other. Right, and then this dude with long dreds in the front seat blurts out…Sharing is caring! Haha. And then to cap it off, the dreded man’s friend turns around and points to me and says, and you know the rasta man, NEVER lies. To which the entire trotro strated laughing. Funny people who know how to let people know how to live.
Met lots of people later in the evening and realized that everyplace you go, you meet some people you really like, and some people not so much who seem to be a little standoffish. It’s the same here in Ghana…only minus the standoffish people. The people here are unbelievable. Ok so we walked home through some smaller villages and we came to one called Dame (pronounced dah-may) a place where, as Haruna explained to me, if the husband of a couple dies, the woman must marry the brother of the deceased if such a brother exists and is not already married. Wild.
Another thing I noticed tonight is that few people can actually say my name and it often comes out Mac or Max and when I try Matthew, I realize the ‘th’ sound doesn’t exist in their pronunciation. Haruna has then given me an African name, Kwame, which he calls me because he especially cannot say my name and also because he wants me to be wrapped into his culture as much as possible and has vowed to find me an African woman so as to ensure that I return some day. Seeing that I have been proposed to twice already it seems like that not may be such a large problem…but I cant feel that special considering white women over here get proposed to the same amount as I have in a week, except in about 10 minutes.
The next morning was my first day of work and had a meeting at 10:00 am and in order to make sure I wasn’t late I woke up at 6:15 which was a swell idea, because I ran into some serious frustration attempting to find my way around. I backtracked twice and arrived 15 minutes before my meeting all sorts of sweaty. This dude, Charles Abbey, with whom I’m working is an awesome guy and as it turns, well accomplished and well connected…and being close friends with my professor, he is also a big fan of Wake Forest. We first discuss how I’m going to go about getting in contact with the right people and the adequate information and it becomes apparent that he is one of the leaders of promoting economic development and fair trade throughout the country. After he gives me names and places we discuss the state of the economy and society of Ghana and he fears the worst for the pending Economic Partnership Agreements between Europe and underdeveloped Africa due to be signed this December. Ghana, among other sub-regional markets, requires help and it should come from an unrestricted free trade agreement that could devastate, for example, the agricultural sector. In my research today I found out that 90% of the agricultural sector is composed of peasant farmers who would undoubtedly suffer the moust. “We are shouting, we are shouting as loud as we can,” Mr. Abbey explains and it seems he will not stop shouting until he knows the Ghanaian people are safe from corrupt politics. The political system here is brutal. Even though Ghana became independent before any West African country in 1957, their politicians have been craven in their attempts to install appropriate economic measures for its people... At least ever since Kwame Nkrumah, the first president after gaining independence was around. He is the George Washington of Ghana with buildings, universities, parks and city regions named after him. I always try to ask people about politics now and in the past and people, even if they weren’t around then, seem forlorn in the state of politics these days. They blame the current president, John Kufour for acquiescing to the desires of the West for personal benefit at the cost of his people. The politicians are in fact the richest people in the nation and it doesn't make the people feel good when they spend millions on celebrations and little on them.
Anyhow, we talked about how kind Ghanaians are and yet crime is on the rise with the influx of refugees from Liberia, Sierra Leone and Nigeria. After our conversation he set me up with meetings at two institutions in the small towns of Weija and Dzorwulu (pronounced, of course, jurwulu) where I spoke with the managers at a rural bank and microfinance development institution giving me hope for where this research can go. More on this will follow later on in the process, but it was a successful day, before the start of a weekend of travel.
Saturday began with the eating of fufu (with the stress on the last syllable) which we ate right down the road in Medina, consisting of soup, fish and doughy delight. We arrive at the roadside establishment, which is basically a shack on the side of the road to sit in, and a completely open kitchen about 5 meters behind. The pictures really do a better job at describing the experience, but the lady takes the huge wooden rod and pounds the dough until she deems it ready after which you think she’s going to cook it somehow. Instead she sticks it in the huge pot of stew for about 5 seconds, ladles the dough and the soup out into a bowl and then slaps a small fish right on top. I think the guide book described it perfectly saying that fufu is one of the things in Ghana you must try, but you won’t miss upon your return. You sit in the shack with four people and ten times as many flies (honestly, maybe more) and hope that between the time you scoop the food with your fingers into your mouth, flies haven’t already parked it on your food. It was one of those things where I wanted to be careful about what I was eating, but when an African kid takes you to eat with him, eat is what you should do. I felt pretty quesy after and sure enough had the runs by the next morning but it was a good experience and I’m glad I did it.
“These folk so much identify their lives with that of the tribe, that each of their acts, however insignificant, is considered as a tribal affair. Their whole behaviour is regulated by an infinite series of unwritten rules of propriety which are the fruit of their common experience as to what is good or bad-that is, beneficial or harmful for their own tribe.”
I don't mean to compare this society to that of a tribal one, it just seems that when anyone needs anything in the community, they share the burden and leave no one to fend for themselbes. On our way to his town, Haruna paid for the trip out there (about 25 cents) and I thanked him and said I would pay on the way back and this guy behind us says to me with a big smile, no no you don't understand, that’s not how it works in Ghana. Your friend pays for you, because he his is your friend, and here in Ghana, we may be hungry, but we will always take care of each other. Right, and then this dude with long dreds in the front seat blurts out…Sharing is caring! Haha. And then to cap it off, the dreded man’s friend turns around and points to me and says, and you know the rasta man, NEVER lies. To which the entire trotro strated laughing. Funny people who know how to let people know how to live.
Met lots of people later in the evening and realized that everyplace you go, you meet some people you really like, and some people not so much who seem to be a little standoffish. It’s the same here in Ghana…only minus the standoffish people. The people here are unbelievable. Ok so we walked home through some smaller villages and we came to one called Dame (pronounced dah-may) a place where, as Haruna explained to me, if the husband of a couple dies, the woman must marry the brother of the deceased if such a brother exists and is not already married. Wild.
Another thing I noticed tonight is that few people can actually say my name and it often comes out Mac or Max and when I try Matthew, I realize the ‘th’ sound doesn’t exist in their pronunciation. Haruna has then given me an African name, Kwame, which he calls me because he especially cannot say my name and also because he wants me to be wrapped into his culture as much as possible and has vowed to find me an African woman so as to ensure that I return some day. Seeing that I have been proposed to twice already it seems like that not may be such a large problem…but I cant feel that special considering white women over here get proposed to the same amount as I have in a week, except in about 10 minutes.
The next morning was my first day of work and had a meeting at 10:00 am and in order to make sure I wasn’t late I woke up at 6:15 which was a swell idea, because I ran into some serious frustration attempting to find my way around. I backtracked twice and arrived 15 minutes before my meeting all sorts of sweaty. This dude, Charles Abbey, with whom I’m working is an awesome guy and as it turns, well accomplished and well connected…and being close friends with my professor, he is also a big fan of Wake Forest. We first discuss how I’m going to go about getting in contact with the right people and the adequate information and it becomes apparent that he is one of the leaders of promoting economic development and fair trade throughout the country. After he gives me names and places we discuss the state of the economy and society of Ghana and he fears the worst for the pending Economic Partnership Agreements between Europe and underdeveloped Africa due to be signed this December. Ghana, among other sub-regional markets, requires help and it should come from an unrestricted free trade agreement that could devastate, for example, the agricultural sector. In my research today I found out that 90% of the agricultural sector is composed of peasant farmers who would undoubtedly suffer the moust. “We are shouting, we are shouting as loud as we can,” Mr. Abbey explains and it seems he will not stop shouting until he knows the Ghanaian people are safe from corrupt politics. The political system here is brutal. Even though Ghana became independent before any West African country in 1957, their politicians have been craven in their attempts to install appropriate economic measures for its people... At least ever since Kwame Nkrumah, the first president after gaining independence was around. He is the George Washington of Ghana with buildings, universities, parks and city regions named after him. I always try to ask people about politics now and in the past and people, even if they weren’t around then, seem forlorn in the state of politics these days. They blame the current president, John Kufour for acquiescing to the desires of the West for personal benefit at the cost of his people. The politicians are in fact the richest people in the nation and it doesn't make the people feel good when they spend millions on celebrations and little on them.
Anyhow, we talked about how kind Ghanaians are and yet crime is on the rise with the influx of refugees from Liberia, Sierra Leone and Nigeria. After our conversation he set me up with meetings at two institutions in the small towns of Weija and Dzorwulu (pronounced, of course, jurwulu) where I spoke with the managers at a rural bank and microfinance development institution giving me hope for where this research can go. More on this will follow later on in the process, but it was a successful day, before the start of a weekend of travel.
Saturday began with the eating of fufu (with the stress on the last syllable) which we ate right down the road in Medina, consisting of soup, fish and doughy delight. We arrive at the roadside establishment, which is basically a shack on the side of the road to sit in, and a completely open kitchen about 5 meters behind. The pictures really do a better job at describing the experience, but the lady takes the huge wooden rod and pounds the dough until she deems it ready after which you think she’s going to cook it somehow. Instead she sticks it in the huge pot of stew for about 5 seconds, ladles the dough and the soup out into a bowl and then slaps a small fish right on top. I think the guide book described it perfectly saying that fufu is one of the things in Ghana you must try, but you won’t miss upon your return. You sit in the shack with four people and ten times as many flies (honestly, maybe more) and hope that between the time you scoop the food with your fingers into your mouth, flies haven’t already parked it on your food. It was one of those things where I wanted to be careful about what I was eating, but when an African kid takes you to eat with him, eat is what you should do. I felt pretty quesy after and sure enough had the runs by the next morning but it was a good experience and I’m glad I did it.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Observations
The Coast
It's typical in Ghana to promote good tidings to enhance your commercial output. Often times I will see little business called something like "God is love barbershop" and "Christechnology cell phones"
Every once in a while a truck filled with matching people are singing at the top of their lungs. It's a miracle they don't all pop out.
A smaller tro-tro but typical scene. Tro-tros are run by two dudes, one driving and one getting out yelling always with hand signals. Whenever they stop, women with assorted goodies on their head come selling and people shove money out the window in order to get a hold of Ghana's finest products.
The crowded market of Accra
Chicken Farm where I liveAs I stroll along on only my third day, my paper is already full of some interesting observations I’ve made. I think the pen and the paper has been my greatest asset so far in
“As the economy smells of hardship and unstable conditions such as flip-flop energy and constant shortage in water supply, so do some areas of
Meanwhile, top government officials drive in sophisticated cars and are spending billions on the celebration of a 50th independence anniversary that is not reflecting in the pockets of the ordinary Ghanaian and the health of their nationals is not good…The roads are in conditions that make journeying to work and back a daunting task. There have been many promises from the sitting MP but many of them are yet to be fulfilled…Do these residents not deserve the best of environments of devoid of polythene and plastic materials that serve as decorations of their walls and compounds? I wonder what stops city authorities from using incinerators to get rid of the city’s filth, especially in an era where energy crises are the order of the day, and when we are capable of spending a fortune of our scarce resources on celebrations that are of little consequence to our situation.”
I also remember reading an article in The Economist regarding the ostentatious funerals in
Anyhow, more observations of the interactive variety. As I mentioned earlier, people love to help out, but as also mentioned they can be way off. I had a funny instance of this happening to me today as I searched for a mobile phone store. Every 100 meters or so there are these stations set up comprised of a small chair and a tattered beach tent under which there is a guy selling phone credit. Naturally I asked one dude if he knew of the phone store on this road and said that I would need transportation. I duly explained how much I enjoyed walking and he told me that the store was 20 km away! I had heard this store existed I was however not exactly sure where it was. I timed the walk and needless to say I arrived 8 minutes and 25 seconds later only to find the store closed. 20 km??? Really? As a vendor of cell phone minutes, that is not very sound advice unless his business partner is the kingpin of the tro-tro cartel. However there is still no doubt that people are unbelievable kind, and are surprised to see me walking alone. Not as a matter of safety, but as one 18 year old Muhammed explained, one should have a friend to show them around. Pride reigns and it stresses an importance of taking care of people in your community and leaving no one behind. People want to help, they welcome me here and almost always tell me that
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Akwaaba
Akwaaba means welcome here in Ghana where people speak a plethora of languages, but most everyone speaks a bit of English. I arrived Monday night after a flight straight down the Sahara desert. Unfortunately I landed at night and didnt get to see any part of Ghana but it was different looking out the window and seeing mounds and flats of sand for as far as the eye could see at 37,000 feet. When I arrived, the owner of the hostel, Selesy was there wearing a wide grin and carrying a sign reading 'Mathew H.' The place where I stay is pretty decent; I have my own room, small desk and chair, and my own locked toilet and shower in the communal bathroom. Things I will have to get used to are the roosters of the 0400 hour, no hot water so coooold showers, and the three days electricity on, one day off. With time though I suppose I will get used to it. I met a worker at the hostel named Haruna who has been all too kind showing me the ropes. He is one of nine children and his father died when he was five. His view on life is, well, awesome. He's 24 but and has not had formal education, but will not give up on that chance. He says, education is the key. I completely agree. He knows his time will come and he will get his chance, so his mentality in the mean time is help everyone you can. He likes traveling, but knows how difficult it can be, so he says that when he saw me, he knew he should help me out. It really is a due unto others as you would have done unto you, and if you do, good fortune will come your way. Haruna took me into the town of Medina where we live and we walked around for a while, some areas looking a bit more squalid than others, but overall people seem content with their lives here. The one thing I have noticed wherever I go, is the place always stinks. Between the road and the "sidewalk" (unpaved area to the side of the road) they have dug about a two meter deep gutter where people dump all kinds of nasty trash. Later in the day I took a tro-tro (big van cramming 25-30 people) to Accra. It's a smelly hot 45 minute drive, but I get to see a lot, and it costs roughly 30 cents. The currency redonominated on Sunday and since it was holiday on Monday, today was the first day people were using it. Now I'm walking around with two currencies, the new one 4000x smaller than the original. The tro-tro dudes, who are constantly yelling out the window and making hand signals to designate their destination, only take the old stuff currently, so I'm still in the market for the former currency.
Accra, the capital city, is a mad house. Curvy streets with barely any signs and once I get a chance to get pictures on here I will but it may take a while. I am quite the spectacle. In case you didn't know, everyone is black. I saw fewer than five white people today and saw thousands and thousands of Africans. It is quite a change, and it is always exciting. I wrote down some of the things people said as I walked by. Once I was walking with my eyes buried in my map, and one dude sitting down goes, "Hey white man, those silly maps are never right." I had a laugh and let him attempt to show me on my way. Everyone here loves to help me out, except often times they have NO idea what they are saying and it can take quite a while for the explanation. It's pretty amusing and am always welcome to the interaction. Almost always we exchange names, a handshake and some friendly talk. I bought some crackers from a lady in the market and as she attempted to trick me into buying two, I kindly refused, and she began to have a hearty laugh. "Mysterious Obruni, have a nice day." Obruni is another word for white man, of course. I had a good laugh myself and continued on through the market where hoards of people are selling all kinds of food, clothing and woven materials along the street. Nobody here is fat, but the women seem to be the more confident and powerful of the gender. They seem to be built a little bigger and they, as you will see, are the only ones lugging crates and tubs on their heads. The men often jabber at each other and seem to be a little more on the lazy side. The children, they think I am straight from Mars. A group of school girls had no shame in pointing, laughing, grabbing my arm and making jokes where all of them giggled. Yes, quite the spectacle. Everyone so far has been so nice, and have formally welcomed them into their country. Loads of pride for their roots and their country, loads of it. And I am beginning to share their sentiment.
Accra, the capital city, is a mad house. Curvy streets with barely any signs and once I get a chance to get pictures on here I will but it may take a while. I am quite the spectacle. In case you didn't know, everyone is black. I saw fewer than five white people today and saw thousands and thousands of Africans. It is quite a change, and it is always exciting. I wrote down some of the things people said as I walked by. Once I was walking with my eyes buried in my map, and one dude sitting down goes, "Hey white man, those silly maps are never right." I had a laugh and let him attempt to show me on my way. Everyone here loves to help me out, except often times they have NO idea what they are saying and it can take quite a while for the explanation. It's pretty amusing and am always welcome to the interaction. Almost always we exchange names, a handshake and some friendly talk. I bought some crackers from a lady in the market and as she attempted to trick me into buying two, I kindly refused, and she began to have a hearty laugh. "Mysterious Obruni, have a nice day." Obruni is another word for white man, of course. I had a good laugh myself and continued on through the market where hoards of people are selling all kinds of food, clothing and woven materials along the street. Nobody here is fat, but the women seem to be the more confident and powerful of the gender. They seem to be built a little bigger and they, as you will see, are the only ones lugging crates and tubs on their heads. The men often jabber at each other and seem to be a little more on the lazy side. The children, they think I am straight from Mars. A group of school girls had no shame in pointing, laughing, grabbing my arm and making jokes where all of them giggled. Yes, quite the spectacle. Everyone so far has been so nice, and have formally welcomed them into their country. Loads of pride for their roots and their country, loads of it. And I am beginning to share their sentiment.
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