Paramount Tugbi

As a part of our formal welcome to Dzelukope we attended a ceremony at the Paramount Chief’s (or Tugbi’s). We gave formal introductions and our group brought the chief the traditional Schnapps Gin (that wasn’t sarcastic! You actually bring Schnapps). Then the chiefs gave a sacrifice for our group. Dzelukope is a mostly Christian community, but the Indigenous belief systems remains strongly incorporated into the Christian religion. This sacrifice was “to God Almighty, through the ancestors” and it was of water and Gin.

sacrifice to the ancestors through the eyes of the next generation

traditional Ghanain dancing. (working on having the photo posting the right way!)

Following this there was a local dance group that performed and taught us traditional dances. The traditional dance is difficult, as it involves an intense shoulder thrusting, much like how a chicken moves, and requires you to keep your feet moving. It was entertaining to dance along, although I must admit, I felt like my lack of rhythm was more evident than it ever is.

Part way through the afternoon I met a little girl who was not a part of the dance group, but clearly wanted to be. She stood by the side, and watched intently as the other girls ‘strutted’ across the dance floor. When I started dancing with her we hit off, and for the rest of the afternoon she wasn’t far from me. It wasn’t long until we were in the middle of the dance floor (or sand pit), thrusting our shoulders around until we were red in the face. If nothing else, I danced with someone who’s grooving ability was on par with my own, which happens rarely and the opportunity should be taken every time it does.

The dance party at the Paramount Chief’s was a blast. What a welcome to the community of Dzelukope!

The Fort

My first days in Dzelukope have been filled with many fantastic learning experiences. I’ve experienced a lot of cultural food, learned some language and local dance (see my post “Paramount Tugbi” to come). Despite the fact that local mothers think we’re crazy for doing it, a few of us students, and some local friends, spent an evening at the beach. Because of strong currents we only waded in waste deep, but we enjoyed cooling off while watching the full moon and lights of the fishing boats reflecting off the waves. 

Recently we travelled to Keta, a town just near Dzelukope. My host family technically lives in a sub-district of this town, of which the name means ‘King of the Sand’; a fitting name as I have yet to see ground that isn’t sand.

In Keta we visited Fort Prizenstein, a fort constructed in the 1700s as a part of the slave trade. It’s one of 44 forts in Ghana, and of 48 in Sub Saharan Africa. The colonial legacy is strong in Ghana, and the fort is symbolic of this legacy. I had a very heavy heart as I learned about the fort, the people that were taken there, and the way they were sold into slavery. It's difficult to speak with my local friends about the dark history of the ground we are living on, but the brief conversations we have had have been significant. It’s impossible to describe this, or to give any semblance of significance to it with my words, and although I doubt my pictures do it justice here are just a few.

 

 

My life in Dzelukope

the Dzelukope beach after fisherman returned for the day

Finally I am writing to you from Dzelukope after leaving Accra. The internet connection in the city is down most of the time, so I expect updates from here will be few and far between but for today here I am!

Dzelukope is a welcome relief from the pace of life in Accra and much more familiar to me than was Accra. The size of the town, and the fact that I am free to walk around town, as well as the community feel, is much more like Yako and I am more at ease here than I was in Accra. That being said, now that I’m a week and a bit into the program, i’m beginning to have glimpses of some of the challenges of my time here.

“Un-kon-ne-na Adju” is the introduction I’ve learned to use over the past days in Dzelukope. Although I know my pronunciation needs work I can tell you that this means ‘my name is Monday born’. When I introduce myself as Brittany most people are confused, and ignore my name, or pronounce it similar to ‘brijly’. I’m okay with all of this because usually the next question someone will ask me is where I am staying and it’s then my turn to badly pronounce someone’s name.

“With Togbi” I say. This means with the chief. I’m not however, staying with the paramount chief, so there are many Togbis in Dzelukope. I struggle to pronounce my Togbi’s last name, and then say “you know, his courtyard is by the school, and the Jesus Cares Day Care Centre...”

Living in a courtyard is a huge learning process, not to mention living in a Togbi’s courtyard. The social conventions of life in a family courtyard, are for the most part, new to me. I’ve had a glimpse of life as an African daughter over the past days, as everytime I go or leave the courtyard i’m asked to explain my comings and goings, and explain exactly what time I’ll be home, or why i’m later than I said I would be (in Africa! Where everything is late.). This is a struggle, but my roommate and I have been learning to cope with this. And, I recognize my experience is only a glimpse as if I want to arrange to come home after the gates are locked I can, and the other girls cannot.

Our courtyard has several tenants in addition to the main family. One of them has three children that I’ve started “bonding” with when. The oldest is a girl, she often gives me hugs and always shows me a huge smile. Her younger brother speaks to me frequently in Ewe to which I respond with the three words I know. My favourite is “Eh” which means yes. Although I’m not convinced always answering him with yes is a good idea, it’s fun to see the look on his face as I talk to him.

Ghanain life, friends and food is one form of experience here. The other is completing school work and starting research. Learning how to navigate my way around a new culture, while learning how to conduct interviews, all within the proper theoretical constructs, is feeling a little overwhelming right now. Fortunately, all the other students are going through the same process, and we’re all working to support each other’s research.

More updates to come.

Wordless Wednesday: Fantas are my favourite

in-class insight

Just in case you were concerned I’d signed myself up for a six-week vacation I should tell you there is school involved – it’s just in Africa. Tomorrow our team will be leaving Accra for Dzelukope (pronounced Je-lu-co-pay). There we’ll be living with a host family and working on my research.


Today we had a lecture that included some interesting discussion. The most interesting was a point from one of our host professors: don’t confuse the culture of poverty with the culture of Africa. This struck a chord with me, as I wonder how often I do this. I know there have been times when I have seen African men wearing Western style clothing, or seen foreign restaurants and said “That’s not African! Why would they do that?”. It’s crazy, when I compare this with Canada. At home, we have the choice to take part in whatever we want, and going for Chinese food, or wearing clothes bought from wherever we want to buy them is a part of our culture. Why should it be any less part of African culture than Canadian culture? Maybe I sometimes mistake the culture of poverty for the culture of Africa.

That’s all for now! Looking forward to updating you from the village.

Little One

It was the skirt that did it. The purple skirt I had made in Burkina. We were headed to church this morning and I wanted to feel just a little ‘African’ so I wore it. And when church was done I didn’t feel like changing, so I kept it on, despite the fact that most everyone else had donned much more trendy attire.

We went to the market, where I spent the afternoon playing Owarré (aka mancalla) and drumming (very badly) with a shopkeeper named Will. And when my hours in the market were finished and I went to return to the group I found a bunch of our group playing with local kids. I noticed the kids: the boys of all ages playing soccer, the oldest girl sitting with my friends against the wall. And the little one that was sitting near the rest, she was the sad one with the vacant stare.

I turned to watch the soccer and then the littlest one, the sad one, grabbed my skirt. When I bent down to say hello to her she pushed herself into my arms. And when I asked her how she was she replied with “fine” even though her sister said she couldn’t talk. And I crouched on the ground as long as I could with Little One half in my arms. I figured that even though I was a total stranger, I was wearing a skirt she could identify with. It was enough for me.

When my knees felt ready to buckle and I couldn’t crouch any more I had to push little one off so I could plant myself on the ground more firmly. She was scared when I moved, and stared at me confused until I told her she could sit down, and her brother (not so gently) pushed her into my lap. I told him she didn’t have to, and tried to help her get up, but she’d planted herself back down.

I felt crazy – sitting with some random person’s baby in my arms, in the middle of downtown Accra. But I would have felt five times worse not holding her. I talked to her, and tried to play little games with her fingers and toes, but she just stared ahead blankly.

When it was time and I got up to go to the bus Little One took my hand. I found her sister and handed one hand over. They followed us to bus, sitting outside my window, until we pulled out of the parking lot.

And part of me doesn’t want to think about Little One and all the children like her because it’s hard to. Little One makes me want to say it shouldn’t be like this. Little One makes me feel hopeless and hopeful all at once, and I’m never sure I want to experience that combination.

But I’ve thought of Little One all day.

Lesson do-overs and new things

This morning, as we sat waiting for the rain to finish and for our day to start I felt like I was learning the lesson of patience in the context of African time all over again. “I just thought I’d see Africa (with the implication of Ghana as the part of Africa) before I was expected to be one African time!” I bemoaned. This is learning lessons I thought I already knew over again.

There was a first glimpse of the stark contrast of life in Accra: slums on one side of the road and beautiful homes on the others.

There was the first time I’ve ever exchanged money, in a bus, at the side of the road. When we asked why we were doing it at the side of the road the answer was “he’s here” and when we asked where he was from the answer was “church”. This was enough apparently.

 

 

And then there was the ocean. My first glimpse of the Atlantic ocean! (notice all the fishing boats?)

Then I made a mistake in thinking I could stand on the rocks for a cool shot – and got my first bath from the Atlantic.

And later worried the same fate would come to a beautiful wedding party.

There were some disappointments, like that the girl I assumed to be a friend’s sister turned out not to be and nobody knows who she is really. She never showed up for our language lesson today, and I feel a little silly for being so excited. I haven’t given up though, maybe she’ll come by again.

All in all it was a great first day in Accra.

Akwoamba means Welcome

After 14 hours in the air, a 7 hour layover in Amsterdam (which gave me time to see the city - beautiful & full of hipsters) and many hours on each end at the airport I've finally arrived in Accra.

The first thing you notice about a place is the smell. And for me I noticed the air is thick, humid, hot. That's the first sign I'm a long way from Calgary.

Cesar (our professor) met our 19 person (soon to be 21 person) group at the airport, helped us through all the airport stuff, and got us settled at the hotel.

Cesar has introduced me to most locals by explaining that I go to to Burkina. This introduction has already earned me the nickname (from at least one friend in the police) the nickname "Ouagadougou-woman". As best as I can tell the locals like that I have spent time in Burkina and can say truthfully "I love Africa!".

On the way to the hotel got the amazing opportunity to sit and converse with the sister of one of Cesar's friends. I've found in Burkina that friends with females take longer to develop and are harder to come by, as girls are usually more reserved but also most busy with household tasks. It was so exciting to make a female friend first thing! She's been teaching me some local words (if three words count) and told me before I went to bed for the night that she couldn't wait till we hung out tomorrow and taught eachother more language stuff. I can't wait either!

Other than hanging out with my new friend I expect today will be a bit of a slow day so we have time to adjust. Someone hinted there might be time at the beach though.

Centre of the World

Okay so Ghana may not be the actual centre of the world, but it is the closet land mass to (0°, 0°). For that reason it's often considered the 'centre of the world'. 

This is where I'll be headed in a few short hours. 

T Minus 1

I’ve taken a read through my travel itinerary for Ghana, and have just finished my research proposal, so it’s now possible for me to give a sneak peek of what I’ll be doing on the other side of the world for the next 7 weeks. My time in Ghana will start when I leave for the airport Thursday morning - a little more than a day away. 

First of all, i’m part of a group study program with the University of Calgary with an African Studies program. Some of what we’ll be doing involves group study on community development and NGOs as well as an individual research project. My individual research project (although not finalized) will be around the topic of independent child migration. Part of this research will involve a 2 week home-stay, living with a family in a village. 

There will be lots of opportunities to see sights unique to Ghana, and experience life in Ghana. I’m confident there will be tons of learning opportunities and I’m really excited about putting into practice the theory I’ve been learning in-class for the past two years. 

After the end of my program I have some time to spend in places where I’ve made connections before I return to Canada on June 30th. I’m looking forward to updating you more as the days and weeks go on! 

futbols 1 & 2

I may not be in Burkina right now like I'd expected to be, and I may not know when the next time I will be there is, but the one thing that is certain is that I still consider the children of Sheltering Wings a part of my family. They've taken a little piece of my heart hostage. 
So yesterday I got together and sent off a package for them. In it I included ball 1 and ball 2 of my one world futbol project. The kids were the inspiration for getting my hands on the one world balls and I knew I wanted them to have some. Maybe I wanted this because the kids are often without soccer balls when all of them are destroyed by the rocks and dirt, and maybe because I just wanted them to have something from me to continue inspiring the love of the game. Whatever the reason, I'm so grateful my family joined forces with me and provided one world balls to send to Burkina. I'm grateful to Ruth and co. for offering to pack them along with them in June and I look forward to hearing about & seeing the balls in use. 
In the package I also included photos for the children and staff and a letter for the kids. Here's a little excerpt: 

"I talk about you so much, and tell so many stories of our times together, that my family feels like they know you. This is only evidence of how much I think of you. Even though we were born on two extremities of the globe we are the same; we have the same blood running through our veins and the same (and wonderful) Lord. Never forget this fact. But each of us is also different. We each have out own dreams, desires, thoughts. Know that each of you (yes, each of you!) has impacted me in your own, unique way - this is because you are each unique and special. Never forget then, that you are special, and loved. "

Win

A few months ago I started hearing about Nigerian letter scams that used the country name Burkina Faso. Most people found them hilarious because it was the first time they'd heard of Burkina Faso. I found them hilarious because it just added to the game. And then my Dad came across this gem: (see bottom paragraph for the reference to Burkina Faso). 

One Love, One Heart, One World

Bob Marley may have introduced you to one love, one heart, but allow me to introduce to the third, missing element: One World. 

All music referencing jokes aside One World Futbol is a fabulous project that I've been eager to introduce to you for a long time! 

one world futbol in hand

A few months ago I became frustrated with the fact that despite the huge numbers of balls trucked in to Sheltering Wings the children are sometimes without a soccer ball to play with. This is because in Burkina, like in many developing nations, the weather and field conditions are intensley harsh on soccer balls designed for play in the western world. Recently, I expressed this frustration to my father, and after a little googling, he sent me a link to One World Futbol. I knew this was it! 

The One World balls are designed for the conditions in developing countries. They are virtually impossible to destroy and consequently can be used on all manner of fields, cement pads or gravel playing areas. They don't require a pump (they self inflate!) so they require no extra care on the part of the child that receives them! They are a perfect example of innovation for the developing world. 

We ordered a case and just a few days later I participated in a youth development conference (IDB) at which they spotlighted One World. I became even more excited about the balls! 

Due to a shipping error (it's boring, or i'd explain) we received not one case of balls but two. After speaking with One World about the error they graciously suggested I hold onto the balls and give them to friends who could distribute them to areas of need. I would have never guessed this shipping mistake would morph into such a fun project. 

Follow the journey of these 24 balls with me as they make their way around the world in the next 4 months.