Change, I have come to realise, is an entity not bound by time - despite what I naively believed before I came here, by money (again I’m very easily convinced) or by power. I believe change is governed only by the mind. If you will it, if you allow it to happen, or accept it, a difference can be made, even in one conversation.
The question is, from where, after a week of exhausting every raw emotion possible, has this new outlook arisen? The answer was even a surprise to me, pouncing on me from somewhere I least expected- Jana School, where I have found a new surge of respect. Within the space of 20 minutes, including two short prayers customary at the beginning and end of any meeting, the teachers had already come up with many ways of enforcing discipline without force or brutality. Listening to them speak- bearing in mind about how in Ghana caning is the cultural norm- it was hard not to feel proud of how quickly their attitude changed, even if it meant going against the grain. This certainly reflects Maltiti as an institution and the principles by which its stands, a charity that I believe is at the forefront of a significant shift in education. Setting a standard for others in the area, no child is overlooked. With each child given a chance to thrive I can now honestly say I feel extremely privileged to be a part of this ‘family’ they speak of.
As the sun was setting, a shard of light pierced through the corner of a window, shattering into thousands as it hit the metal gratings, bathing a group of children in a warm red and orange glow. It was at this point that I truly believed my new feeling, merely a week old were firmly anchored down, with no chance of escaping. Singing, dancing and drumming, the children’s spirit, kindled by our own (around five Sillymingers*) attracted more youngsters who began to flood in from the street. It was the negative space in this composition, the gap between the crowd however, that really captured my attention- A little girl hovering by the doorway- half cast in shadow, the other glowing in colour- a tiny baby strapped to her back. For me, this painted a picture of what was actually happening all around us, the real plight of youngsters here, and thus, just how important this gathering was.
Although MCF have set up after-school clubs every night to keep the children up to date with their learning (due to half the day being spent learning Arabic), these Wednesdays and Thursday advocacy classes aim to inform children of their rights to speak, be educated and to receive healthcare. It offers them the opportunity to voice this to their parents and others of authority through traditional dance, singing, poetry and debate. Many speak about topics including, HIV/AIDS, disease, protection against abuse, becoming orphans and being proud of their nationality.
The root causes of lack of education in rural villages are one of MCF’s major targets. Many of these children, like the ones I teach in Jana are forced to work before and after school in order to provide for their families.
Nevertheless, it is quite hard to fathom that this kind of poverty actually exists. Seeing it on an advert or even on the streets is tough enough, but when it is staring wide eyed in front of you in a class, the reality really hits home, and hard. Just yesterday a small girl of about 3 or 4 clambered on to my lap outside and fell asleep, exhausted from what I initially thought was the midday sun beating down on her head. (I can only imagine what my school is like in summer – bare foot and sparse clothing). However, as my hand caught the back of her neck, I realised she was burning with a fever (honestly as if I had touched a hot potato). Confirming this was the teacher who sadly explained this was most likely to be malaria. Although it is a disease that for westerners can be quite easily treated, for this village it is extremely expensive and particularly dangerous for young children, whose immune systems are not as developed. I thought about this on the journey to her hut, led by her equally tiny friend. How easy it would be for me to just gather the tablets myself? Unfortunately, it was at this point that I understood the true meaning of sustainability, something this would not promote. Eventually, I reached a group of women and an elderly lady who mirrored my outstretched arms to take the child. This was evidently not her mother. Oddly though, I did not think twice about my action, as I would have done at home. There are no strangers here- only a tribe whose closeness, in every aspect of life give a completely different meaning to the word community.
*Sillyminger: Dugbani for white people. Here it is common for people to refer to you by the colour of your skin. It takes a while to get used to not only due to the emphasis we have on P.C terms in England, but also because silly minger certainly isn’t a term you going to want to start splashing about in the uk!
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Sunday, 26 July 2009
the football
The football. Last sunday I had one of the most insane "cultural experiences" of my life. (I am sorry I could not write sooner but I have been slightly under the weather.)
It is Real Tamale Utd. vs Ashgold and Tamale need to win or they will be relegated. The Stadium built by the Chinese and funded by the USA is worthy of England supporting about 20,000 seats and proper toilets. I fear for my life as Jess and I are pushed through a seething crowd of fans squashed into a tiny space whilst David tries to buy the tickets for 3cd (about $1.80)and the others are nowhere to be seen. Someone pulls us through a door and we are in the Stadium grounds where our lungs are able to take in some air. Jess and I wait quietly and patiently by the door minding our own business whilst soldiers with machine guns and sticks keep control. Every now and again another group of people burst through the door and we try to melt into the wall but nothing serious happens and finally our group makes its way through. Instead of the smell of fish and chips and beer, we are greated with soya kebabs and water sachets balanced on the heads of women. Instead of chants there is drums and every sort of homemade percussion which gives the whole game a tribal feel. We can sit where we like and we choose the half way line close to the front surrounded by fans. The atmosphere is one of humour, excitement and anxiety and the noise is wonderful. No other whites, No other women.
Before the match starts a half naked man with a snake comes on to the field- a traditional healer we find out later. He then joins a group of men who turn out to be chiefs and they all start fighting! Its Anarchy! The soldiers come to defuse the situation but everytime one chief pushes another the crowd stands up and shouts! Suddenly everyone stands up as the "commisioners" enter their VIP box and Real Tamale Utd. run on to the pitch followed by Ashgold. The only advertisement on the pitch is glo- the mobile network that is supporting the premiership.
The stadium is half full, the noise is deafening (though everyone is sitting down) and the whistle goes. At that moment we realise David went to get water 20 minutes ago and he isn't back- I breathe a sigh of relief as I see him walk down to our spot. It turns out he had been caught in a stampeed as fans tried to enter the stadium whilst the Police/army were spraying everyone with water and using their sticks. David had made a great escape and all was fine.
It turns out neither side were amazing at football but A for effort and tackling. RTU has a free kick, we hold our breathe, no goal. David tells us he heard last week the police teargassed the spectators because things got out of hand. Ashgold has a free kick! no goal. Don't worry though because we do not belong to a tribe so we will be fine. We decide however that we will leave ten minutes early if RTU are losing because there will be riots and the police have guns. A woman balancing biscuits on her head sells some goods in front of us. Medics are running on (with their little golf car) no.31 Ashgold is down! Luckily he was obviously faking and he can carry on playing. Random people are standing around the pitch and the soldiers are watching the game on the pitch. No.16 RTU is dribbling to the goal and! he misses. I cant help but think winning and losing is now a matter of life and death. I have never been so into my football!
The fat chiefs start another fight on the pitch- Mr. Chief in green does not understand you cannot just take the football because you want your side to win. A penalty to RTU! Its a shame we have to wait twenty minutes to take it because another fight breaks out on the pitch. We wonder why they seat all the fans together? are they crazy? yes. The crowd start throwing water sachets at the soldiers and the chiefs. Anarchy. Football continues and five minutes later we are all standing up shouting, RTU scored!!! Kadri is our man!
Unfortunately it starts another riot amongst the chiefs, the crowd are throwing things, the soldiers are coming! Its half -time and the situation difuses. We find out that most of the soldeirs were probably peace-keepers on the Lebanese border. Though there was at least half an hour injury time they were allowed 2 1/2 minutes and the next half of the game was more of the same. Fights, medics and subs with only one yellow card in the whole game! I asked how much the players were paid and I was told 3-400cd/month which is approximately 120-170 pounds. Not much.
RTU won one-nil and Katie even managed to fall asleep in the second half. At the end of the game instead of rioting there was massive rejoicing and cheering so we all went on to the pitch and were mobbed with calls of "snap me" with the camara or "marry me" which was a little less understandable. The referee had more protection than Obama as he was escorted from the field. What a day, what a game.
Talia Chain
It is Real Tamale Utd. vs Ashgold and Tamale need to win or they will be relegated. The Stadium built by the Chinese and funded by the USA is worthy of England supporting about 20,000 seats and proper toilets. I fear for my life as Jess and I are pushed through a seething crowd of fans squashed into a tiny space whilst David tries to buy the tickets for 3cd (about $1.80)and the others are nowhere to be seen. Someone pulls us through a door and we are in the Stadium grounds where our lungs are able to take in some air. Jess and I wait quietly and patiently by the door minding our own business whilst soldiers with machine guns and sticks keep control. Every now and again another group of people burst through the door and we try to melt into the wall but nothing serious happens and finally our group makes its way through. Instead of the smell of fish and chips and beer, we are greated with soya kebabs and water sachets balanced on the heads of women. Instead of chants there is drums and every sort of homemade percussion which gives the whole game a tribal feel. We can sit where we like and we choose the half way line close to the front surrounded by fans. The atmosphere is one of humour, excitement and anxiety and the noise is wonderful. No other whites, No other women.
Before the match starts a half naked man with a snake comes on to the field- a traditional healer we find out later. He then joins a group of men who turn out to be chiefs and they all start fighting! Its Anarchy! The soldiers come to defuse the situation but everytime one chief pushes another the crowd stands up and shouts! Suddenly everyone stands up as the "commisioners" enter their VIP box and Real Tamale Utd. run on to the pitch followed by Ashgold. The only advertisement on the pitch is glo- the mobile network that is supporting the premiership.
The stadium is half full, the noise is deafening (though everyone is sitting down) and the whistle goes. At that moment we realise David went to get water 20 minutes ago and he isn't back- I breathe a sigh of relief as I see him walk down to our spot. It turns out he had been caught in a stampeed as fans tried to enter the stadium whilst the Police/army were spraying everyone with water and using their sticks. David had made a great escape and all was fine.
It turns out neither side were amazing at football but A for effort and tackling. RTU has a free kick, we hold our breathe, no goal. David tells us he heard last week the police teargassed the spectators because things got out of hand. Ashgold has a free kick! no goal. Don't worry though because we do not belong to a tribe so we will be fine. We decide however that we will leave ten minutes early if RTU are losing because there will be riots and the police have guns. A woman balancing biscuits on her head sells some goods in front of us. Medics are running on (with their little golf car) no.31 Ashgold is down! Luckily he was obviously faking and he can carry on playing. Random people are standing around the pitch and the soldiers are watching the game on the pitch. No.16 RTU is dribbling to the goal and! he misses. I cant help but think winning and losing is now a matter of life and death. I have never been so into my football!
The fat chiefs start another fight on the pitch- Mr. Chief in green does not understand you cannot just take the football because you want your side to win. A penalty to RTU! Its a shame we have to wait twenty minutes to take it because another fight breaks out on the pitch. We wonder why they seat all the fans together? are they crazy? yes. The crowd start throwing water sachets at the soldiers and the chiefs. Anarchy. Football continues and five minutes later we are all standing up shouting, RTU scored!!! Kadri is our man!
Unfortunately it starts another riot amongst the chiefs, the crowd are throwing things, the soldiers are coming! Its half -time and the situation difuses. We find out that most of the soldeirs were probably peace-keepers on the Lebanese border. Though there was at least half an hour injury time they were allowed 2 1/2 minutes and the next half of the game was more of the same. Fights, medics and subs with only one yellow card in the whole game! I asked how much the players were paid and I was told 3-400cd/month which is approximately 120-170 pounds. Not much.
RTU won one-nil and Katie even managed to fall asleep in the second half. At the end of the game instead of rioting there was massive rejoicing and cheering so we all went on to the pitch and were mobbed with calls of "snap me" with the camara or "marry me" which was a little less understandable. The referee had more protection than Obama as he was escorted from the field. What a day, what a game.
Talia Chain
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
Amy's first blog
Yesterday I went into a rural village for my first time on this trip. What i saw was just poverty and I can't think of a better word or a more meaningful one. The dusty roads and mut huts that I see from a foreigners eyes as 'quaint' or 'typically African' are in reality these peoples homes, and If felt almost guilty for having taken pictures ones we'd passed, from a bus we went on to Mole NAtional Park. But there's nothing I can change about that whilst I'm out here - thats how people in these villages live. Development has to start at a smaller scale and that, hopefully, I can help with.
Yesterday I started my part time work at a school with an organisation called Maltiti, which shows parents the importance of giving their children an education, and sets up schools and after school clubs for the children to be sent to. The organisation is doing some amazing work - I hate to think what these children would be doing without it seeking to give them an education. WE actually saw a a 10 year old girl with a bucket on her head going into town to sell her produce. Her parents don't see the point in sending her to school. In this kind of rural village, the concept of having an education has to be justified to parents - how strange a concept to us! But since they believe their children will work the fields, or sell goods in town or in the market (not only 'when they grow up', but now when they're young too), they don't see the point in their children growing up knowing to read and write.
The school is in the village so it is accessible to the community, but there are no resources to teach with. I've started to think back to my primary school and just how many square objects and colours were in the room even, that we could learn from, makes me realize how priviledged I had it when I was young.
I also work at an NGO called PROWACID which carries out women and childrens empowerment projects in these rural communities. The focus of this NGO and Maltiti are to assert rights in these rural villages which should really be a given. PROWACID carries out small scale projects though, and seems to have focused recently on changing the traditional roles of women in these communities. Not only have they had to teach families that domestic violence is wrong (how 1950s is that!?!), but they also are persuading these communities that women and young girls should have opportunities to education, skill learning, and taking part in decision making. Right up my political street, as the organisation has encouraged women to stand for district elections, as well as encouraging people to vote for a woman, and has got a few women elected - though hardly a proportional amount! It's also like asserting feminism here - something I strongly advocate (maybe from my suffragist-school-upbringing...)
At the moment though, we are working mainly on securing funds to carry out individual projects. The projects seem to be quite sustainable as they use drama workshops, forums for discussion and one on one chats in order to get across the rights that the project is focussing on.
So that is a very vague overview of what I'm doing here. But hopefully as time goes on, I will be able to see the bigger picture of what both projects do and be able to see the results of my work.
To end on a light note, we had sooo much rain this morning that we're all enjoying a break from being constantly sweaty! And a few of us went to Mole NAtional PArk on Saturday...and then we all enjoyed a strange Tamale vs. Accra football match on Sunday which will be blogged soon!
Much love to all
Amy x
Yesterday I started my part time work at a school with an organisation called Maltiti, which shows parents the importance of giving their children an education, and sets up schools and after school clubs for the children to be sent to. The organisation is doing some amazing work - I hate to think what these children would be doing without it seeking to give them an education. WE actually saw a a 10 year old girl with a bucket on her head going into town to sell her produce. Her parents don't see the point in sending her to school. In this kind of rural village, the concept of having an education has to be justified to parents - how strange a concept to us! But since they believe their children will work the fields, or sell goods in town or in the market (not only 'when they grow up', but now when they're young too), they don't see the point in their children growing up knowing to read and write.
The school is in the village so it is accessible to the community, but there are no resources to teach with. I've started to think back to my primary school and just how many square objects and colours were in the room even, that we could learn from, makes me realize how priviledged I had it when I was young.
I also work at an NGO called PROWACID which carries out women and childrens empowerment projects in these rural communities. The focus of this NGO and Maltiti are to assert rights in these rural villages which should really be a given. PROWACID carries out small scale projects though, and seems to have focused recently on changing the traditional roles of women in these communities. Not only have they had to teach families that domestic violence is wrong (how 1950s is that!?!), but they also are persuading these communities that women and young girls should have opportunities to education, skill learning, and taking part in decision making. Right up my political street, as the organisation has encouraged women to stand for district elections, as well as encouraging people to vote for a woman, and has got a few women elected - though hardly a proportional amount! It's also like asserting feminism here - something I strongly advocate (maybe from my suffragist-school-upbringing...)
At the moment though, we are working mainly on securing funds to carry out individual projects. The projects seem to be quite sustainable as they use drama workshops, forums for discussion and one on one chats in order to get across the rights that the project is focussing on.
So that is a very vague overview of what I'm doing here. But hopefully as time goes on, I will be able to see the bigger picture of what both projects do and be able to see the results of my work.
To end on a light note, we had sooo much rain this morning that we're all enjoying a break from being constantly sweaty! And a few of us went to Mole NAtional PArk on Saturday...and then we all enjoyed a strange Tamale vs. Accra football match on Sunday which will be blogged soon!
Much love to all
Amy x
Sunday, 19 July 2009
I work a lot based in the CIAHT office. Its three small dark rooms in a construction site where unemployed men hang out all day. It has no internet and the stained moldy walls are filled with different social issue posters and newspaper clippings of the organizations great work. The employees come and go they are all really friendly. They have comic Ghanaian music videos playing in the background and employees taking naps on the floor is a normal occurrence.
My first task was to look at a proposal for money from Finland, for a project to find and rehabilitate trafficked women. There was a lot of problems with it and although I was a bit nervous to speak so boldly. I explained it needed [in my opinion] re-writing a better structure and the English was awful. I was a bit unsure, who was I to come into their organisation and give advice? My logic was that If I couldn't understand things , the people in Finland wouldn't either.We re-wrote the whole thing in more detail.
I asked my boss a lot of questions about the project, so I could put the details into the proposal I felt he'd left out. He said they wanted to rescue 150 women from being trafficked ,many would have been forced into prostitution. The organisation then give them economic,medical and emotional rehabilitation. He said that they get one hour with a councilor for the emotional rehabilitation. I was in shock. Just imagine one hour ,then on your way, 'sorry about the ten years of prostitution and abuse but thats all we've got time for, have a nice life!'. I asked why so little and he replied it wasn't ideal but there are no counseling services in Tamale. I suggested they start mutual support with group therapy, or maybe train victims to volunteer as councilors. One of hand comment was turned the next day a step closer to reality as my boss found someone willing to facilitate the support group and do the training for free.
The idea then took shape as a friend suggested that a research project should be done about counseling in Tamale. I didn't know what this was but apparently its before an NGO makes a project of action an in depth study is don't to look at the current situation and what should be done. Talia [a friend on the program] and I are gong to work together on it. It will consist amongst other things of asking what are the counsellings provisions now? Interviewing women to see what they want and suggesting what could be in the future.
My organisation is confident funding can be secured and even wants to start a new organisation for victims of human trafficking! Its really overwhelming and exciting and two months suddenly doesn't seem like enough. Theres too much to be done.
lucy
My first task was to look at a proposal for money from Finland, for a project to find and rehabilitate trafficked women. There was a lot of problems with it and although I was a bit nervous to speak so boldly. I explained it needed [in my opinion] re-writing a better structure and the English was awful. I was a bit unsure, who was I to come into their organisation and give advice? My logic was that If I couldn't understand things , the people in Finland wouldn't either.We re-wrote the whole thing in more detail.
I asked my boss a lot of questions about the project, so I could put the details into the proposal I felt he'd left out. He said they wanted to rescue 150 women from being trafficked ,many would have been forced into prostitution. The organisation then give them economic,medical and emotional rehabilitation. He said that they get one hour with a councilor for the emotional rehabilitation. I was in shock. Just imagine one hour ,then on your way, 'sorry about the ten years of prostitution and abuse but thats all we've got time for, have a nice life!'. I asked why so little and he replied it wasn't ideal but there are no counseling services in Tamale. I suggested they start mutual support with group therapy, or maybe train victims to volunteer as councilors. One of hand comment was turned the next day a step closer to reality as my boss found someone willing to facilitate the support group and do the training for free.
The idea then took shape as a friend suggested that a research project should be done about counseling in Tamale. I didn't know what this was but apparently its before an NGO makes a project of action an in depth study is don't to look at the current situation and what should be done. Talia [a friend on the program] and I are gong to work together on it. It will consist amongst other things of asking what are the counsellings provisions now? Interviewing women to see what they want and suggesting what could be in the future.
My organisation is confident funding can be secured and even wants to start a new organisation for victims of human trafficking! Its really overwhelming and exciting and two months suddenly doesn't seem like enough. Theres too much to be done.
lucy
the rural villages
After two weeks volunteering in Ghana I have been assigned a really interesting range of tasks by my NGO [Centre for initiative against human trafficking CIAHT ]
I have visited rural villages the NGO works with. Compared to urban Tamale [the main city in the north where we live]its a different world. The villages are my cliche picture of Africa, mud huts and thatch triangle roofs. When we arrive at a village we must greet the chief , sometimes bring a live animal as a gift. [ not the normal greeting if i visit someone in Leicester].
CIAHT knows that a lot of children have been trafficked from the village so works to address the root of the problem ,poverty.[see previous blog for what trafficking is] .A Shea butter farming schemes was set up to give the village a livelihood. We were in the village to see how the scheme was going.The results were'nt good. Snakes biting them as they farmed it, the market was to far away to sell it the list ran on. It was my job after returning to the office to write up a report on the day, CIAHT will work with them to overcome the problems.
It makes you realize a development project is a successful because of the detail. An example we were told was the well meaning UN gave thousands of mosquito nets to Ghana.The problem was they were red,which in Ghana means death so no one would use them. We are all seeing the difficulty of translating well meaning intentions into successful results rather than often doing more damage.
The next day I went with an NGO from Holland and my NGO to another rural village. We were there to review a school feeding program . The community was taught farming skills,they then made food which was sold to the school for the lunches. The hungry children got lunch and the unemployed parents got a job! I liked seeing how my NGO was working with bigger organization. My NGO based in Ghana, were working with the village community with money from Holland. It seemed like a good model.
The village reaction to me was a bit overwhelming. I made little children cry as they were so scared ,by this white person! Every pair of eyes fixed on my white skin I could feel them scanning my every detail. Children would brush my arm as if to see if the white came of on their hand,like a paint.
I also got some really uncomfortable questions. One older lady with colorful clothes and a baby wrapped on her thin back asked me why it was I was rich and they were poor? I didn't really have anything to say. Another women without malice or venom asked if I pitied them. I wasn't really sure if they wanted my pity or not,so I told the truth. Their economic situation did make me feel very sad for them. I was also true i was in awe of their warmth, hospitality,constant jokes and laughter in spite of their poverty. I loved their colorful clothes and their community and deep spirituality. I realized after, it made have been a bit offensive. 'Sorry your so poor you cant afford food and your children are in slavery guys ,but by the way, I love your dress!' I'm still thinking about it am not sure. They seemed so amazingly happy and free. I have no idea whether this is human natures response to suffering, I have no idea what they really feel before they go to bed at night but they seemed so happy. They seemed much happier that the average person in Britain. Maybe the whole rich in other ways thing is a true cliche.Maybe not maybe you can never be truly happy in poverty. I have no idea.
On they way back from the village in the land rover, the brown dirt roads were like an awaful roller coaster. All the Ghanaians in my NGO were quite chilled, fine ,relaxed. I closed my eyes in discomfort thinking of never again taking the miracle that is smooth tarmac from granted. A minute later to the amazement of my colleges, I was retching by the roadside, my breakfast decorating the road. Being in Ghana sometimes makes us all feel very weak, the Ghanaians seem so tough in comparison. From the village to the road,being in Ghana I have definitely left my comfort zone.
lucy
I have visited rural villages the NGO works with. Compared to urban Tamale [the main city in the north where we live]its a different world. The villages are my cliche picture of Africa, mud huts and thatch triangle roofs. When we arrive at a village we must greet the chief , sometimes bring a live animal as a gift. [ not the normal greeting if i visit someone in Leicester].
CIAHT knows that a lot of children have been trafficked from the village so works to address the root of the problem ,poverty.[see previous blog for what trafficking is] .A Shea butter farming schemes was set up to give the village a livelihood. We were in the village to see how the scheme was going.The results were'nt good. Snakes biting them as they farmed it, the market was to far away to sell it the list ran on. It was my job after returning to the office to write up a report on the day, CIAHT will work with them to overcome the problems.
It makes you realize a development project is a successful because of the detail. An example we were told was the well meaning UN gave thousands of mosquito nets to Ghana.The problem was they were red,which in Ghana means death so no one would use them. We are all seeing the difficulty of translating well meaning intentions into successful results rather than often doing more damage.
The next day I went with an NGO from Holland and my NGO to another rural village. We were there to review a school feeding program . The community was taught farming skills,they then made food which was sold to the school for the lunches. The hungry children got lunch and the unemployed parents got a job! I liked seeing how my NGO was working with bigger organization. My NGO based in Ghana, were working with the village community with money from Holland. It seemed like a good model.
The village reaction to me was a bit overwhelming. I made little children cry as they were so scared ,by this white person! Every pair of eyes fixed on my white skin I could feel them scanning my every detail. Children would brush my arm as if to see if the white came of on their hand,like a paint.
I also got some really uncomfortable questions. One older lady with colorful clothes and a baby wrapped on her thin back asked me why it was I was rich and they were poor? I didn't really have anything to say. Another women without malice or venom asked if I pitied them. I wasn't really sure if they wanted my pity or not,so I told the truth. Their economic situation did make me feel very sad for them. I was also true i was in awe of their warmth, hospitality,constant jokes and laughter in spite of their poverty. I loved their colorful clothes and their community and deep spirituality. I realized after, it made have been a bit offensive. 'Sorry your so poor you cant afford food and your children are in slavery guys ,but by the way, I love your dress!' I'm still thinking about it am not sure. They seemed so amazingly happy and free. I have no idea whether this is human natures response to suffering, I have no idea what they really feel before they go to bed at night but they seemed so happy. They seemed much happier that the average person in Britain. Maybe the whole rich in other ways thing is a true cliche.Maybe not maybe you can never be truly happy in poverty. I have no idea.
On they way back from the village in the land rover, the brown dirt roads were like an awaful roller coaster. All the Ghanaians in my NGO were quite chilled, fine ,relaxed. I closed my eyes in discomfort thinking of never again taking the miracle that is smooth tarmac from granted. A minute later to the amazement of my colleges, I was retching by the roadside, my breakfast decorating the road. Being in Ghana sometimes makes us all feel very weak, the Ghanaians seem so tough in comparison. From the village to the road,being in Ghana I have definitely left my comfort zone.
lucy
people we meet
Volunteering and traveling obviously opens your eyes to different things. The biggest thing I keep feeling is the power of one person to change things. We met Molli from New York, now in her thirties. She volunteered in her twenties and saw need for the diagnosis of autism in Ghana. She then started her own NGO, single handedly and currently helps people starting their own NGO's. An American women in the market queue in front of me I randomly met, with blond platted hair that couldn't have been more then twenty started an NGO for little girls to get an education. They make social change seem so within reach.
The people making a difference aren't just foreigners. I sat waiting with my co-worker [as its Ghana and waiting is a big part of life!] I asked him about how he came to work at the NGO. He told me his story. Born to Sixteen brothers and sisters, with a father with many wives and children and little money. His mother didn't encourage him and his siblings didn't go, but for some reason he wanted to go to school. There was the obvious problem, money, but he told me that as a little boy did laboring work to earn his schooling. He then worked this way through University. At university he attended lectures that started at 6.30 in the morning [but to get a seat you needed to arrive at 4.30 am as the 300 capacity lecture hall was filled with 700 people] .The lectures lasted six hours with a five minute break, people regularly collapsed from heat and hunger. I couldn't relate it to my lectures at Manchester with the awful levels of attendance and student apathy. He is now working in the NGO to change society. He was so softly spoken and humble and didn't seem to feel any great significance to the story,barely worth mentioning. It was a normal one apparently. The normalcy shocked me more than the story itself.
Ghana is full of NGOs and volunteers trying to make a difference. Its a mixture of empowering and dis- empowering and overwhelming to be here so far. It seems like theres so much work being done by amazing people and organizations to improve things, but looking around walking in the street, theres just so much injustice that needs to be changed.
lucy
The people making a difference aren't just foreigners. I sat waiting with my co-worker [as its Ghana and waiting is a big part of life!] I asked him about how he came to work at the NGO. He told me his story. Born to Sixteen brothers and sisters, with a father with many wives and children and little money. His mother didn't encourage him and his siblings didn't go, but for some reason he wanted to go to school. There was the obvious problem, money, but he told me that as a little boy did laboring work to earn his schooling. He then worked this way through University. At university he attended lectures that started at 6.30 in the morning [but to get a seat you needed to arrive at 4.30 am as the 300 capacity lecture hall was filled with 700 people] .The lectures lasted six hours with a five minute break, people regularly collapsed from heat and hunger. I couldn't relate it to my lectures at Manchester with the awful levels of attendance and student apathy. He is now working in the NGO to change society. He was so softly spoken and humble and didn't seem to feel any great significance to the story,barely worth mentioning. It was a normal one apparently. The normalcy shocked me more than the story itself.
Ghana is full of NGOs and volunteers trying to make a difference. Its a mixture of empowering and dis- empowering and overwhelming to be here so far. It seems like theres so much work being done by amazing people and organizations to improve things, but looking around walking in the street, theres just so much injustice that needs to be changed.
lucy
Cente for initiatives against human traficking
In Tamale our new home ,the group of the 16 of us here with 'Tzedek' live in two houses and have placements. We have teachers,nurses and NGO workers. I'm working in an NGO, a Non governmental Organization which works to combat Human trafficking.
Human trafficking [something which before arriving here I knew little about] is a form of modern day slavery. Children and young adults are sold from their homes in rural villagers to traffickers. The traffickers target the poor uneducated rural north. They tell them if they sell them their children they will find them good jobs in the prosperous south. This is a lie. The reality is they are made to work but receive little money .They live in diabolical conditions and are often forced into prostitution and develop AIDS. They are taken to the South of Ghana for example Accra, or the neighboring countries. There they enslaved until old age. I spent a day at my placement in utter shock. I couldn't compare my world in England to this story from some horror movie. There are communities so poor that selling their children seems like the best thing for the child. It was a bit too much to handle, I couldn't begin to react.
The Center for the prevention of Human trafficking works to address the root of the problem lack of education and poverty. They visit the rural villagers to educate them .They also try and help the villagers develop skills so they can earn a livelihood and therefore not need to sell their children.
The NGO also helps to track down the traffickers. On my first day my boss after being absent all morning, showed me an article about an arrest of two Nigerian traffickers in the capital of Ghana. He had reported them to the police and helped with their arrest. He sincerely apologized for missing my first day .I had to laugh at his apology I told him I thought it was fine, he was doing something ever so slightly more important than greeting me.
I work in the NGO five days a week, but the staff work seven days every day of the week! We work from eight to five with a lunch break.While the electricity does work my first job has been to edit a proposal for a grant for money from an overseas donor. Its really interesting to learn how an NGO works and be part of it. Working in the NGO is different that other offices. The electricity cuts out every now and again. Just like that the computer monitor turns of and we have to wait until who knows when. The first time it happened the shock on my face obviously showed .'Its Africa' laughed my co-worker, 'get used to it!
lucy
Human trafficking [something which before arriving here I knew little about] is a form of modern day slavery. Children and young adults are sold from their homes in rural villagers to traffickers. The traffickers target the poor uneducated rural north. They tell them if they sell them their children they will find them good jobs in the prosperous south. This is a lie. The reality is they are made to work but receive little money .They live in diabolical conditions and are often forced into prostitution and develop AIDS. They are taken to the South of Ghana for example Accra, or the neighboring countries. There they enslaved until old age. I spent a day at my placement in utter shock. I couldn't compare my world in England to this story from some horror movie. There are communities so poor that selling their children seems like the best thing for the child. It was a bit too much to handle, I couldn't begin to react.
The Center for the prevention of Human trafficking works to address the root of the problem lack of education and poverty. They visit the rural villagers to educate them .They also try and help the villagers develop skills so they can earn a livelihood and therefore not need to sell their children.
The NGO also helps to track down the traffickers. On my first day my boss after being absent all morning, showed me an article about an arrest of two Nigerian traffickers in the capital of Ghana. He had reported them to the police and helped with their arrest. He sincerely apologized for missing my first day .I had to laugh at his apology I told him I thought it was fine, he was doing something ever so slightly more important than greeting me.
I work in the NGO five days a week, but the staff work seven days every day of the week! We work from eight to five with a lunch break.While the electricity does work my first job has been to edit a proposal for a grant for money from an overseas donor. Its really interesting to learn how an NGO works and be part of it. Working in the NGO is different that other offices. The electricity cuts out every now and again. Just like that the computer monitor turns of and we have to wait until who knows when. The first time it happened the shock on my face obviously showed .'Its Africa' laughed my co-worker, 'get used to it!
lucy
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