...about his experience while volunteering in Ghana.

5/14/03
Hi everyone,
At 9:40 am tomorrow, Thursday May 15th, I leave for Accra, Ghana in Africa. I will be teaching children aged 12-16 math and science there for 2 months.

5/30/03
Greetings,
I apologize for the delay of this first e-mail- it seems I'm already adapted to GMT- Ghanaian Man Time (which essentially means one doesn't adhere to time). I am living with the proprietor of my school's family. The proprietor, Komevor Tettegah, is around fifty years old, and, I think, he has three children. It's tough to be sure because I see a new family member in the house almost every day. This is due to the fact that Komevor and his wife, Peace, have something like 9 siblings each. So, as you can imagine, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, etc. are always stopping by. Anyway, Peace and Komevor's children are Mawulolo, Dagbe, and Seram. The first two are males, aged 12 and 19, respectively, while the third is female and aged 10. Though Dagbe is my age, I've become closest friends with Mawulolo- mostly, we play soccer (outside with a ball and inside with paper, both of which are quite fun). A fourth child, Ben, lives in the house on a regular basis (I have to say 'regular basis' because of the fact that people live here a few nights, leave, and return a few days or weeks later). Essentially, he is the Cinderella of the house- the Tettegah family is taking care of him for a family friend and they make him work day and night. Scarcely do a few minutes in the house go by without my hearing someone screaming Ben's name for him to come do something. Dagbe is finishing his high school career, which they call SS (Senior Secondary) here, and preparing for college. Komevor tells me he wants Dagbe to go to college in the U.S. and marry a white- a common desire here.

A typical day for me consists of waking up between four and five in the morning, due to the abundant noise of household chores taking place (mostly done by Ben of course) and the fact that the windows throughout the house are simply screens. Would you believe I haven't even seen a mosquito yet? Perhaps this is due to the fact that I'm not in a village, but rather in Ghana's largest city, Accra. Though I wake up sometime before five, I refuse to get out of bed until after 6, at which point I wander outside and wait to bath- due to the preponderance of people living with us, this can be a long wait. When the bath is free, I fetch water with a bucket from a basin in the yard, which is fed by rain and other mysterious sources (perhaps I will look into this). Fetching is not easy- I grip a rope some ten feet in length, attached to the bucket, and drop the bucket into the basin. You see, the water is like 8 feet down, so I have to flick my wrist to make the bucket tip over to collect water. Then I pull it up, pour it into another bucket, and take it to the bath area, which is an outdoor concrete structure with walls and a ceiling. The problem is the bath 'room' shares a wall with three other 'rooms' which consist of dug in pits used for toileting. Thus, the smell while I'm trying to bathe can be potent. Anyhow, I bathe by dumping water on myself and washing with a bar of soap, feeling clean afterward but knowing tons of bacteria in the bath area and water took me as their home in the process.

I eat breakfast around 7:30, which is generally bread, tea and possibly oatmeal- even in Africa, breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. School starts officially at 8, but some classes start just before seven- I teach one of these on Tuesdays. The first week and a half I taught math and science to children aged 10-12, but now I teach only math to children aged 12-14. I usually have four periods each day, lasting around 35 minutes each. I eat lunch between 11 and noon and the school closes about 4- anything related to time is approximate. Even though school ends around 4, the teachers and some of the students hang around until dark, talking, singing, dancing, playing games, etc. I eat sometime after dark, teach Mawulolo math around 8, and get to bed between 9 and 10. Dinner and lunch are various dishes composed of the following items: fish, rice, plantains, onions, corned beef, noodles, and yams. Up until a few days ago, I pretty much cleaned my plate every time. However, I had diarrhea, vomiting, and a fever on Wednesday, and since then my appetite hasn't been as strong, but I see it recovering. I think I will stop here for today- I didn't realize how much I have to say! This is only about a tenth of what I have to tell you so far! Hopefully, tomorrow I will continue. If you have any questions/reactions related to what I've told you so far, don't hesitate to respond. Peace people.

Your American friend/family member in Africa who misses you very much, Eric

6/5/03
As I alluded to in my last contact, I miss America a great deal. Every day I think about pizza and flush toilets- I swear, when I get off the plane at Logan airport in a little more than a month, I'm going to kiss the ground and do a little dance. Don't worry- I'm not miserable or anything. It's just that I miss my family, friends, and all the amenities of American life in general. I can't really put my finger on what it is that makes me so antsy to return to the U.S. Recent reflection tells me it has to do largely with degrees of monotony and boredom. For better or worse, Africa is missing most of America's distractions and diversions that make the days fly by. People here don't seem to share in the American thirst for fun. After being at school for about eight hours, teachers and students are hesitant to leave. This is logical because their home lives are composed of chores like washing clothes, making dinner, cleaning, etc. For the teachers, fun is staying after school and learning math from Eric into the evening. For the students, it's learning new songs and dances. Don't get me wrong, these are both positive activities- I just miss shooting hoops at the gym, watching sports center, chilling with my family, etc. I realize that with the right attitude I can be content with this kind of life (where learning math after school is a fun activity- sheesh, this won't be easy)- and I think I'm beginning to get used to it.

Well, now that you know I will pee my pants with excitement when I set foot in America again, but am adapting to the African pace of life, I think I shall give you my opinion on the education system in Ghana. Before I launch into the shortcomings of education here, let me first say that it has exceeded my expectations. I was anticipating a teaching experience in which I'd stand under some hut-like structure attempting to teach 40-100 pencil and paper-less students who'd never embarked upon learning before. In truth, the Ghanaian government has syllabi for 8 or 10 subjects at each level of schooling and has printed official textbooks for each. Most students have been attending school since a small age and are equipped with notebooks and pens. You should also know that I'm generalizing based on my experience at one school and what I hear about other schools. I've come to the conclusion that education in Ghana is a way to make money in a country where money is scarce. Like America, Ghana has both public and private schools- but, in Ghana, both types charge students money. Government schools charge a certain rate, with public schools charging amounts above and below this, depending on their reputation. Sure people are making money off of students in America, at both public and private institutions of higher learning- but this is different. I get this sense from the proprietor and all the teachers involved that the school is less about learning and more about income. For example, a couple of times per week, teachers threaten and cane (hitting students with thin sticks, an illegal though common practice in schools here) students who are behind in paying their school fees. Also, teachers make little effort to check whether students are retaining or even learning what is being 'taught.' Students are given homework and quizzes, but no one keeps track of their scores and I get the feeling that teachers just let sub par work slide. The only time students are legitimately held accountable for their learning (and, in effect, the only time teachers are held accountable) is before they go to senior secondary school (high school)- they have to pass some exams to graduate Junior Secondary School (Junior High). Furthermore, when I observe other teachers, I get the impression they're just putting information on the board to get through the day. For example, in a science class, the teacher will copy excerpts from the textbook (which only the teachers have, students can't afford them) onto the chalk board for the students to copy into notebooks. After some half-hearted, repetitive recap/explanation of the material on the board, the lesson is over and the teacher may never question the student about this material again.

Eric
P.S. After one day of diarrhea, vomiting, and fever (likely due to some pinkish meat in a soup I ate the night before) and a few more days of daily but not too frequent liquid bowl movements, I am fully recovered (bowl movements are back too normal- I know you all really wanted to know about this).

6/10/03
What an eventful last few days! Friday, my school, Lord of Peace, took on a nearby school, Rapid, in a couple of soccer matches: one between the teachers of the respective schools and one between the students. The field was about a ten minute walk from our school. After walking between houses, over bushes, and dodging chickens and goats, I arrived at the field, where an awesome scene unfolded before me: behind one fragile, wooden goal stood a mass of Lord of Peace students drumming, chanting, and singing hymns in support of their team. Behind the other goal, the Rapid students echoed back with verses of their own. Not only that, neighbors and passer bys stood on a hill that overlooked the field, eagerly anticipating the match. I felt like I was entering a Roman Coliseum, ready to do battle with a pack of lions (the way the Rapid teachers played, this isn't a bad comparison). The field was a grassless, rocky, red expanse with one sideline delineated by a neighborhood wall and the other by a series of bushes and a house. Some of the Rapid teachers looked more like offensive linemen than African soccer players and, naturally, they let their elbows, rather than their feet, do most of their talking. Despite this physical play, one of our forwards managed to get past their bruiser defenders, without being knocked over, and notched our only goal of the match. Right after the ball passed by one of the wooden posts, all the Lord of Peace students stormed the field in euphoria, hugging each other and the players. It was the kind of excitement you'd expect from sixth graders just released from school for the summer. Once the children cleared, after about 10 minutes of celebration, the game resumed. With only 15 minutes left in the match, and Lord of Peace on the verge of a beautiful victory, Rapid equalized on a magnificent, but controversial, diving header. Not only did our team feel that he was offside, but, further, some Ghanaians feel it is improper to score with the head. A heated discussion ensued, ending when our players "sacked" the referee- a term that essentially means to banish. I found this pretty hilarious- in America, just because we disagree with a referee's call doesn't mean we can tell him to get lost- but I guess that's legit here in Africa. A new ref finished the game, which ended as a 1-1 draw. I took a few tumbles during the match (not surprising considering the Rapid style of play and the fact that one large section of the field was covered in bushes- when the ball went in, players jumped into the bushes, kicking wildly) and one of my scrapes now appears to be infected- not to worry though, I'm nursing it back to health with Neosporin. The children followed our match and lost 1-0 to the Rapid children. I was impressed with their level of play, especially since half of them were playing barefoot.

Up to now, I haven't mentioned that another volunteer, Orly, is staying in the Tettegah household and teaching English at Lord of Peace- she's 24, comes from New York City, and arrived a week after me. We're not really the same type, but we get along well enough (perhaps I can tell you more about her in a future e-mail). Anyway, Saturday morning we traveled via bus 3 hours east of Accra to Cape Coast. Due to the curvy, narrow, pot hole-ridden road and the fact that seat belts are unheard of in Ghana, I felt like I was on a roller coaster the entire bus ride, fearing that any moment might be my last. The scenery on the way was beautiful- walls of green trees interspersed with large meadows (it reminded me of Jurassic Park and I kept looking for a brontosaurus off in the distance, but never spotted one). We spent the night at the Oyster Bay Hotel, in Elmina, a fishing town ten minutes from Cape Coast. We spent twenty minutes bargaining the price of the room (here you bargain for everything). The attendant told us it was 300,000 cedis (around $40), a fairly outrageous price by Ghanaian standards. We were told ahead of time by Mrs. Tettegah that 100,000-120,000 cedis was a fair price for a room. When we informed the attendant that we knew he was giving us this price just because we were white, he produced a broken picture frame with the prices printed on a piece of paper in dollars. This only further proved our point- obviously he doesn't show the prices to Ghanaians in dollars. Nevertheless, we bargained him down to 130,000 cedis (about $15). Though a Ghanaian would have paid around half this price for a room, I was pleased with the reduction we made and felt like the extra money was for a good cause (the attendant and the Ghanaian economy as a whole). Our room was right on the beach and that night I went to sleep to the sound of crashing waves. The next morning, Orly and I traveled to Kakum National Park (a rain forest preserve of about 360 square km). Here we hiked through a section of the forest with a guide, who told us all about various trees along the trail. For example, natives used to slice open the roots from one tree to get water and then used the roots as sponges for bathing. Another tree's roots could be used as a natural Viagra. The guide was pretty comical too, because he was constantly interchanging the letters 'l' and 'r' (this is common among Ghanaians from the Ashanti region, which is centered in Kumasi- for example, instead of play, they might say pray). However, the tro tro ride from oftlineKakum back to Cape Coast takes the cake as the funniest moment of the weekend. First of all, a tro tro is the most common and cheapest form of transportation in Ghana- they are mangled metal vans that seat anywhere from 10-30+ people. Every time I ride in a tro tro I feel like I'm in some radio contest where they're trying to set the world record for cramming the most people into a Volkswagen Beetle. So, I'm packed in a tro tro, leaning forward in my seat, since I can't fit my hips between the people on either side of me, when all of sudden I hear a baaaaah- turns out there's a goat in the back seat! Every time the tro tro driver honked, the goat bleated. Another time, when I was in a tro tro in Accra, the woman sitting next to me put a black plastic bag down beside me- inside was a live chicken and it was poking its head out. I spent the ride with one eye on the chicken at all times, keeping a safe distance between my leg and its beak. Ah, tro tro rides...priceless. There was one slave castle in Elmina and one in Cape Coast, but the tour guides were on strike for the weekend, so Orly and I couldn't go inside. I have pictures of all this and more, which I will send in the next few days. All for now.

Regards, Eric

6/23/03
This past weekend I traveled with Orly, 5 hours Northwest to Kumasi, home of the Ashanti people. We arrived at the Kumasi bus station at 3 in the afternoon, with no idea what or where any of Kumasi's attractions were, nor did we know where we'd be spending the night. A friendly and somewhat wealthy looking Ghanaian couple had caught my eye soon after we'd stepped off the bus. So, I walked over, explained our situation, and asked if they knew of a nearby hotel for 80-100,000 cedis. The man, Bernard it turns out, offered to drive us to a particular hotel- I thought to myself, great! I realize getting into a car with a complete stranger in another country isn't generally a prudent move, but I've found Ghanaian people to be friendly and peaceful like no one else I've encountered. Bernard ended up taking us to four different hotels (the previous three were full due to a soccer match on Sunday, which I'll get to later) and left us with his name and phone number in case we needed something-these people are the best!

After finding a hotel, thanks to Bernard, Orly and I took a cab to the Kumasi market, which was a mass of thin, fragile, metal roofed structures, under and in front of which locals sold assorted items to hoards of people streaming every which way. Naturally, all the vendors were calling out to us (as usual we were the only white people around) and I finally went up to one that asked us what we were looking for. He took us to three or four interesting vendors, selling traditional African wear and crafts, within the span of about an hour- I figured he was just being friendly like Bernard. After we finished traversing the market, it was getting dark and Orly and I decided we'd head back to our hotel- the thing was our friendly guide wanted some money for his troubles. Orly offered him 1500 cedis (like 15-20 cents), but he refused, wanting more. I wasn't about to give him anything and he soon became angry, at which point I hailed a taxi, Orly and I got in, he threatened us one last time, and we drove away, thankful to still have our health and belongings.
Sunday morning, we went to the Manhyia Palace, where the current king of the Ashantis lives. In the driveway were peacocks and an immaculate red and white Asante Kotoko (Kumasi's club soccer team) team bus, which we were told the King purchased for the team (at least he has his priorities straight). The palace had a museum, of which we had a tour- I'm not a big museum fan, so lets move on.

Final stop- Kumasi Sports Stadium: Ghana vs. Uganda, preliminary football match for the African Nations Cup. Yes folks, just before leaving Kumasi, Orly and I found ourselves sitting at Ghana's largest football stadium, crammed in with thousands of other fans, like we were in a giant tro tro (the buses I told you about before). Orly and I wondered later if there was a limit to the number of tickets the gate attendants could sell, because people were still streaming in when we left and all the seats (concrete stair slabs) were gone long before (people were sitting and standing in the aisles, etc.). The fact that we bought the cheapest tickets possible (10,000 cedis or a little more than a dollar) only made the crowding situation in our section worse. We could only watch the first 20 minutes because we had to catch the last bus to Accra at 4pm, but we were there long enough to see Uganda go up 1-0 on header off of a corner- it was pretty shoddy defense from the Ghanaian side, though I guess that's typical of African football. Knowing we were in the midst of a massive fire hazard and with unrest now brewing among the fans, I was only moderately disappointed at missing the rest of the match, which I'm told ended in a 1-1 draw (The teacher here who told me the final score also said they should use the stadium to grow cassava or maize, because a team that can't even beat Uganda is a disgrace). So, I'm now safely back in Accra, after another successful voyage to a new area of Ghana.

Still missing you and America,
Eric

6/30/03
After all this time, I realize there are a few inherent details about my existence here that I have failed to mention.
First of all, the official language in Ghana is English, but there are more than 40 local African languages, the most common of which is Twi. I've learned a fair amount of Twi, but it's difficult because I'm not really immersed in it. Here are a few tidbits of what I know: how are you- wo ho te sein, I am fine- eye or me ho ye, I'm going to bathe- me ko jare, let's eat- bra yen di di, white man- obroni. I'm all too familiar with the latter- a ten minute walk in my neighborhood involves smiling and waving to dozens of children giddily chanting 'obroni.' Twi has two more letters than English- some of those e's and o's aren't really e's and o's. They're actually the other two Twi letters (I can't write them on a computer), which are pronounced almost like our 'a' and our 'o', respectively.

Secondly, I haven't told you much about my actual teaching experience. There are nine classrooms at Lord of Peace School, most of which consist of two cement walls, a cement floor (many ridden with large holes), and a thin metal roof. The walls, for the most part, don't meet the ceiling, but rather end a few feet before- this space serves as the window and aides ventilation. The classrooms themselves are divided by portable chalkboards. Half the time the children don't have pens or a notebook and complain of hunger. Therefore, each day, I find myself attempting to teach math to thirty paper and/or penless Ghanaian children, distracted by hunger and noise reverberating through the chalkboards in front and behind them. Despite these conditions, the children, at least superficially, aren't really that far behind American standards of education. For example, I just finished teaching how to graph equations of lines to students aged 11-15. I didn't learn about that until middle school, which pretty much corresponds to the aforementioned ages. However, there is a significant difference between the proposed curriculum and what the children actually know. For example, the government approved curriculum for my children suggests I teach graphing equations of lines, but most of the kids struggle with long division, decimals, and fractions (things they should have learned a few years before graphing). It also doesn't help that every other day various portions of my class are missing, due to one of the following reasons: 1) rain- anytime it rains really hard (which is about 3 times a week), half my class doesn't show up (which is understandable since all the roads around here are dirt and mud and lakes quickly become problematic) 2) sacked for school fees- this means they're sent home to get money they owe the school 3) My children are outside being caned for being late, not bringing lunch money, or some other random reason. Between the noise, hunger, heat, and caning, it's a wonder they know anything - but that's what I love about kids, they're resilient and optimistic. Recently, though, it's been difficult channeling their motivation and enthusiasm into paying attention in class. My usual tactics are losing their effectiveness and are as follows: reminding them their parents are spending their hard earned, scarce money on this education, disrupting student's disrupting by calling on them to answer questions, or banishing them to the sun outside. I've been tempted to use the cane on several occasions but have thus far resisted- I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out!

Lastly, the proprietor of my school returned from America, shocked by the following American realities- all the streets are paved and the women are nice and fat (in Ghana weight is a sign of status because the more money one has the more one can eat- therefore bigger men and women are seen as more desirable than their skinnier counterparts- pretty much the opposite of American culture). His exact words on obese, American women were, "oh la la."

All for now,
Eric

7/10/03
Well people, this will be my final transmission from the Republic of Ghana- Saturday evening, I leave for U.S. soil! I�ve spent some time the last few days trying to come up with one or two profound epiphanies to share with you. However, I now realize what I�ve gained from my experience here will be difficult to put into words, but I will try.

Firstly, I�m just proud of myself for deciding one day to go to Africa, making it happen, and surviving two months of it.

A second obvious, though significant, lesson I�ve learned from two months in Ghana, is to appreciate American living more- flush toilets, any kind of cooling system, TV, high speed internet, ice cream, pizza, etc. are all wonderful amenities. My toleration of germs and general sanitation has reached new highs. I used to refuse to eat or drink anything that anyone else�s mouth or hands may have directly touched. I�d always wash my hands after using the bathroom and before any kind of meal. However, I�ve now grown accustomed to eating with my hands after spending the day riding tro tros and shaking strangers� hands (washing my hands after toileting? yeah right, washing my hands anytime except bathing? nope). I�m no longer grossed out when my African family members dip their hands into my food and I bathe outside with rain water from a basin.

Ghanaian people are awesome. Their friendliness and vibrant personalities, in spite of the economic realities of Africa, have been inspiring. The children, in particular, despite the heat, cane, and hunger (as I mentioned previously) possess a passion for life stronger than anything I�ve seen in America. I�m going to miss starting off my day watching a few hundred Ghanaian children drumming, singing, and marching into their classrooms. I�m going to miss my kids standing and greeting me everyday when I enter the classroom with a unified, �Good morning sir, how are you?� But most of all, I�m going to miss standing in front of thirty, mostly eager Ghanaian children, with their smiles returning mine, trying to teach them concepts like volume, profit, and interest.

As inspiring and friendly as everyone has been here, I can�t wait to see my friends and family again and spoil myself with all that America has to offer. With that said, I will say farewell from Ghana.

Your American African buddy, Eric