(Spencer) Suhuyini Revealed

Hello Friends!

Over the past months you may have noticed that instead of signing off as Spencer, I have been using the name Suhuyini.  What is up with that name?

Suhuyini

Just as all names have a meaning a so does this one, and in the culture of the Dagomba people names are a very important part of who you are. Not just being a title that you go by but with a deeper meaning that truly describes who you are. Children are given names are a celebration a week after their birth by religious leaders in the community, complete with the slaughter of a sheep and shaving of the head to make it official. Being an adult did not require a sheep to be slaughtered or my hair to be shaved (dodged a bullet there).

When I first arrived in Karaga I would introduce myself as Spenca (the “r” is not pronounced) but every time I would be asked what my Dagomba name was and I was without one. Two weeks in I was walking with Shurazo out in the fields and we were talking about names, I mentioned I didn’t have a Dagomba name. He looked at me for a few moments, thought to himself, and said, “I know what your name is, you should be called Suhuyini”. I was very greatful to have been given such a beautiful name,  ”What does it mean?” I asked him.

Suhuyini means one heart. That is who I am. It means that I do not hold evil thoughts in my heart for any person. It means that I am open and share my feelings.  It means that I am full of love.

This is who I am in Karaga, I am known to some people as Spenca but for the vast majority of people I am only known as Suhuyini . If I introduce myself as Spenca they ask for my Dagomba name and when I say Suhuyini they smile brightly and forgot any of that Spenca nonsense. It’s a name I really do love, sexy sounding as it rolls off the tongue and therapeutic when I think about the meaning as people call me by it. The feeling to have gone by one name all your life than to be given another is something quite unique, akin to a nickname but one that is not a nickname at all but my true name to those who know me by it.

During my day to day life I strive to live up to being “One Heart”, at times it is easy and at times it can be very hard. On the hard times; taking the time to greet even those who cause me frustrations, not letting in to anger even in the face of lost money, and understanding the realities of the District Assembly officers even when they don’t do at all what I have asked. Today I was called a true northerner as I value greeting people so much, this was a large compliment that definitely had my one heart glowing.

The man the mystery revealed =)

One heart

Suhuyini

PS!! An awesome video of serious dance moves at the Ghana independence day celebrations!

(Kevin) Finding Neno

Last weekend, I visited the parents of my neighbor (Peter) in the mountains of Neno district. We hoped on a minibus at 7am in Liwonde, and started our journey. 2 hours later, we arrived at our stop, where we waited for a truck, an SUV, or anything that would take us the last 2 hours of the trip. This wait lasted 6 hours. Finally, we hoped on the back of an Irish potato truck, and drove 2 hours to Neno trading centre. From there, we walked 2 hours, through the dark, with Peter’s baby daughter, a pail of goods, and two backpacks. 

As I’m sure you can see from our 12 hour journey for such a short distance – transportation in Neno is not good. We finally arrived at the house at 7pm, and I realized the pay off of the journey. The property is located on the top of mountain, and consists of 6 living houses, 3 cooking houses, and caral for pigs and goats, and many acres of land. I can truthfully say that this is the most beautiful place that I’ve been to in Malawi. If I had the opportunity to spend years here, I would jump on it. 

The family was very welcoming – and the weekend was spent laughing, sharing stories, taking walks, and eating great food. With the exception of cane sugar and tea (both from Malawi), everything eaten at the house is grown on the property. Over the course of my two days there, I ate maize, lemons, hot peppers, oranges, beans, chicken, sugar cane, tomatoes, and cassava. Absolutely delicious. 

I also spent one morning learning about charcoal production. Trees are cut down, buried in sand, burned, and bagged up for sale in villages and cities across Malawi. Charcoal (along with wood burning) are the main sources of fuel for cooking here. While it can provide heat and bring in revenue, it has it’s drawbacks. As my friend Gift describes, cutting down trees for charcoal “multiplies poverty”. During rainy season, a lack of trees can compromise water quality and increase the risk of flooding. What other option is there? Everyone needs to eat.
On Sunday, we packed our bags, said our goodbyes, and walked 1.5 hours to the trading center to catch some sort of transportation. We waited, and waited, and waited… and waited. Nothing came. So we turned around, and walked 1.5 hours back to the house. 

As I woke up Monday, I took in the beauty of my surroundings as I watched the sunrise over the mountains. This would be my last day in Neno. Again, we said our goodbyes, walked 1.5 hours to the trading center, and an additional 2.5 hours to the city. It was here that we finally caught a ride in the back of an ambulance with 15 other people. After a 30 minute ride down a mountain road, we headed back to Liwonde on a minibus with ease.

Peter’s parents and their neighbors have amazing land, and the crop yields are plentiful, but because of poor roads and transportation systems they have heavy difficulties turning a profit on what they grow. It reminds me of something an extension worker preached to me a few weeks ago – the idea that Malawians get “used to poverty”. What does this phrase mean? In this case, do people get used to poor transportation? How adaptive can you be until transportation becomes too overwhelming and begins threatening challenges? 

Be well, much love. 

Kevin

(Spencer) Smiles All About

 Hello friend on this fine friday!

Today I would like to share some of the smiling faces of Ghana, and make no mistake even if the picture is solemn they are smiling on the inside. Its very common to become quite straight faced when your picture is being taken as photos are serious business.

This man insists that I stole his name, Suhuyini, what is with that name anyway? Tune in Monday to find out, along with a summary of the summer among other fun.

Baba preparing some cow skin for the market. The raw skins are put on top of a fire and charred, than the burnt bits are scrapped off. After the skins are hydrated in oil and chopped. I'll be honest, I am not at all of a fan of eating cow skin, it tastes like...well like skin.

Baby Sulu, looking questioningly into my eyes "What on earth is this white boy doing?" Thankful the meaning of his name is patients.

Question: Why is this name so happy?

Don't fret, this boy doesn't smoke. He is fetching the previous mans smokes for him (question answered), and thought he would be the epitome of cool in the photo.

A seriously imposing man, the District Chief Executives son, glaring me down but with smiles in his heart....just as he was smiling moments before and after.

This man is a definite character he always requests a photo and sells me honey straight from the bush hives. His friend in the back is in the process of leaping from the camera frame to avoid a photo, despite this mans excitement. 

Yours truly Spencer Suhuyini, carrying Sulu on my back in the traditional fashion. The ladies didn't think I would be able to do it, and they were half right; my lack of breasts presented a unique challenge of wear the wrapping would hold on me.

An expert tire roller.

Those eyes say it all.

People are the only ones with smiles, dogs need love too!! In his favourite spot, right behind his ears =)

Have a great weekend everyone

I hope to see you all and your smiling faces soon..but not too soon there is still much work to be done here. 

Be well and without ailment

-Suhuyini

(Kevin) Went to a place, where no cars go.

This week was big! Besides celebrating both Malawian and Canadian independence, I spent 3 days with extension workers, and one big day in the field interviewing communities about their new borehole.

A one-day field visit?! What’s the point of that?

First off, it turns out that 13 litres of fuel and oil (5500MK ~ $35) buys you only one day on a motorcycle in the most remote area of the district (especially when the roads are poorly maintained, and communities are far apart). Ideally, I would have liked to visit the 8 communities that I planned for, but that 13 liters only took me to 4 of them. Was it worth it? Definitely, and here’s why:

1) I was able to continue my relationship building with the extension worker:
Extension workers are people with access to many conversations and a lot of information. By spending 3 days with him, bouncing ideas off of him, and showing him the purpose of my research, I can sense that he’s more comfortable sharing with me. This is great! And exactly what I need – both to feel more human here, and to get a more holistic perspective of the situation on the ground.  

2) II’m able to further understand who puts boreholes where, and how they make those decisions:
I met with the Traditional Authority – a very powerful man who has a lot of decision making power in his area of the district. He explained to me the procedure for boreholes allocations when new projects come to his area. Which communities gets them? What criteria is used to select certain communities over other communities?
The theoretical procedure is great to understand – but is it actually followed step by step? Most likely – the answer is no. Biases exist, and no system is perfect. The challenge is finding the disconnections and loose connections between procedure and practice. Admitting such things makes people in power vulnerable, making this information tough to come by.

3) I was able to create 4 case studies around water access in Ngokwe:
Of the four communities I visited, I heard some really interesting things from communities - particularly around their ability to pay for their new borehole from the African Development Bank*.
*The project requires that communities raise 15000MK (~$100) before they receive their new borehole.*
Some things worth mentioning:

1) One community was dropped from the list to get a new borehole because they weren’t able to raise the funds. Why? The 6 community members I interviewed told me it was because one of the village headman insisted the location for the new borehole be in his compound. The issue was never resolved, community members refused to pay, and they lost their chance for a new borehole.

2) Almost all communities I interviewed reported that low tobacco sales have really inhibited their ability to raise the 15000MK. One conversation informed me that Canadian influence to reduce smoking rates in Malawi has been a big contributing factor. Whoa..

3) A campaigning Member of Parliament provided boreholes and spare parts for 2 of the 4 communities I met. It has been documented by many people that such a practice undermines communities based management, and discourages communities from taking ownership and responsibility for water point maintenance.

4) The ADB database indicates that one community has 0 BHs. When I went to visit that community, it turns out that they actually have 3. Where did this number come from? Was this a miscommunication, or an intentional error?  
Right now, I have the advantageous tools of time and freedom to visit the field and do verifications for my research here. But of course, my information is not 100% accurate, and this WAS only 4 communities, so my glimpse of the picture is small.

The consultant would never have the time or resources to do verification in every community. A lot of trust is put into people to be honest during this project. The district, Traditional Authories, extension workers, communities – half truths or biases anywhere along this chain can have huge impacts on the ground for Malawians.

The water point database used for this project can tell a million stories. How many will I get to hear before I leave?

Much love, and be well.
Kevin

(Spencer) Nyegbolo

(Continued from the decision)

Having made the tough decision to move to a new family, this the experiences from the first night in the village along with a few notes added these weeks after the delay in posting.

Nyegbolo

Nyegbolo is 4km from Karaga town and it takes between 30-40min to bike to the village. The bike ride is gorgeous and worth every extra minute that it takes, time will tell if that is still the opinion after 2 months (after taking it for one week I can say it is still wonderful, and I feel much healthier from the exercise). There are 30 households in the village and population of ~700 people. The very large majority of people are farmers at 93% farming and soon to include myself.

Immediately the feel of the village is vastly different from that of Karaga. No shops, no stores, no food venders, pump action borehole instead of mechanized, healthier animals, not packed with people, all traditional mud-hut compound housing, and beautiful open fields lined with Baobab trees all around. The language spoken is Dagbani as the village is also of the Dagomba tribe. There are very few people in the village who can understand any English at all, which is fitting considering it is I who am a visitor in their homeland.

My new host family is 28 people strong, with 12 children under the age of 12. All the compounds in the village have a name so that people can identify where you are from (it is the same in all of Dagbon, the land of the Dagombas). The name my host families compound is named Ca-Chara I Yeena which means that when there is trouble in the village this house will go and sort out the issue between the two parties, the village police. Think of a compound as a collection of one room mud-huts in a general circle shape connected by walls.

First Night

In thanks of my arrival I presented the old man of the house with cola nuts, a Dagomba tradition when meeting an elder. Next, I was taken to the chief of the village to be formally introduced and welcomed into the community; he was presented with very large cola nuts. In honour of my arrival they presented me with a delicious dinner of T-Z and baby pigeon, freshly slaughtered on my arrival. The most interesting meat I have ever eaten, especially after seeing the bird trash about after its head was removed. The first time I think that I have ever seen an animal slaughtered and prepared, it is remarkable how removed we are from the food system in Canada. The Ghanaians I have talked too cannot quite understand the concept of mass production and the sale of meat in Canada; there is nothing Karaga district beside street venders selling fried goat to make any comparison. After stuffing myself I discovered the chief had sent a meal of T-Z to me as a welcome, the children were very happy for the food, it was impossible to eat that much T-Z.

The evening was sent talking with Mohammed who is the brother of my host father, and the only English speaking man in the village. While he spoke my eyes drifted to the star speckled sky free from any light pollution and back down to the traditional compound, everything was in accord.

The Split Summer

This change in living situation presents a shift in community life in many ways. No longer will evenings be spent roaming the paths and streets of Karaga meeting people and experiencing life in a developing town. Instead spent with the host family engaging in what they do in the evening, this includes going to bed for 9pm and getting up for 5:30am.

From my short time so far in the village what is jarring is the lack of the option to use services which have always been taken for granted. They simply aren’t an option as they don’t exist in the village.

• No running water; this was quite true in Karaga town as well but in the village the woman walk quite a distance to the borehole, there is an added guilt of taking a bucket shower as it will mean half a trip to the borehole
• No electricity; perhaps I was spoiled at the DCE’s house…but not having the option to turn on a light, plug something in, or do anything electric is an adjustment. The village is without any mechanized devices or electric work multipliers. Everything is done by hand or with well-designed tools. Battery operated devices such as flashlights and radios are common.
•  No food venders; don’t enjoy T-Z? Tough love. There are no other options in the community as there was in Karaga town. Put a smile on and eat what is available or don’t eat at all.
• Sanitation; I’m quite sure the situation in the village is better than Karaga due to the smaller population however there is only one latrine in the village at the small. The very large majority of the village is going “free range”, when the community led total sanitation team arrives in Karaga this month I will keep tabs.
• Lack of employment; in Karaga there were no jobs available but in the villages there are simply no jobs. Which is why nearly everyone is a farmer but don’t ever underestimate the farmers, they are very intelligent in their field of mastery.

·  

It is an exciting change that hopefully will bring about greater sense of challenges that exist in village life.

Lots of Love

Suhuyini

(Spencer) Big Changes

Hello friends!

Yesterday marked the most difficult day so far this summer.  (Opps! actually 2 weeks ago yesterday, sorry friends forgive me I beg)

After careful consideration I came to a decision to move to a new location within the district for the remainder of the summer. For the past month I had been living with the family of the District Chief Executive in the heart of Karaga town (the DCE is like mayor in Canada but more powerful).  The family and compound where I was staying were fantastic, they treated me great and many laughs were shared together. However something had hung in my mind throughout the duration of my stay; this family was quite well off and lived in Karaga town. This presented a barrier between being able to understand rural poverty at a ground level point.

I have split the post into two parts one going through the decision and the other initial village life.

How the Decision Was Made

An important part of the summer learning’s for both; myself and for what I can bring back to Canada for you Guelph EWB, is the realities of rural poverty. I was certainly learning a lot when staying with this family but it was a stunted learning. Being at the ground level with Dorothy is different when you are living with those most vulnerable instead of seeing it through a window. Learning is going to happen in country that is different from your own regardless but in this case there was the opportunity to push those learning goals into overdrive.

This was where the difficulty came; do I continue living at my current location in Karaga and learn as much as I can? Or. Move somewhere much more rural and experience it first hand? However these were not the only issues to consider. How would my family be perceived by the community after the white person had left them? Was there as much to learn in Karaga as there was in a rural setting, a different set of learning but equally valid? How would the family react to me packing up my bags after a month with them? How will I cope with an upheaval half way through? How will this affect my personal happiness which in term affects the quality of my work? My apprehension was very large about the move.

However despite all the apprehension and all the parts of me that wanted to stay at the DCE’s family home; there was an interesting mental reality going on that knew the entire time I was going to move. In fact I think I knew from the first night I slept in the room they had provided. It was a very nice room (read: very nice), concrete walls, comfortable couches and chairs, lights and power, even a television; a westernized living room by all accounts. It was that first night that I thought before sleep swept over, that I was currently staying in the nicest room in all of Karaga. Whether that thought was true or not, it didn’t matter; all I knew was that the majority of Ghanaians did not live like that.

It was that simple thought the first night that stuck with me despite my best attempts to rationalize the situation and be happy with the opportunity presented. For a while I was resolute in staying at the house, to honour the DCE and push my learning about Ghana in a town-type setting. Indeed happiness was rampant within me and I was learning tons about life in Karaga. There were many conflicting feelings about moving out of the family’s house. Following a conversation with Cat and one with Binnu (my couch), perspectives were challenged and I decided to find a rural location.

My friend in Karaga, Shurazo, set me up with his best friend in the village of Nyegbolo. Last night I moved out my host family’s house with the help of my great friend Baba. Baba is awesome; he is 24 years old just having graduated senior high school and speaks English like a king. We share many laughs including watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail together, which he thought was the funniest movie ever…”they keep saying Nee, Nee hahahaa”. He helped explain to the family the reasons for my leaving and that it was nothing they did but a duty to myself and other to experience and learn as much as possible about life in Ghana. They were very understanding but doubtful I would be able to take life in the village (a common sentiment amongst people who know I am now living there). After many parting good-byes we departed.

I have something to admit. I was reluctant to post directly about the family I was staying with previous for the very reason that I was thinking about finding another location that was more rural. In fact the last week with them I was quite uneasy for I needed to tell District Chief Executive (it is his family’s home I am staying) before I told the family I was moving out but he out of the office all week, and in turn I couldn’t tell the family. It ate me up on the inside know I was leaving but couldn’t vocalize it without offending the most powerful man in Karaga.

In the end the move had to be made after phoning the District Chief Executive and briefly explaining the situation to him. This was not the preferred method of interaction to tell the DCE about the move but with mid-placement retreat looming there was not time to dilly.

Suhuyini

(Continued in next Post)

(Kevin) You. You’re beautiful.

I thought I would give a shout out to the beautiful trees in Machinga district. With so much uncertainty, they are truly a landscape constant. 







Be well, and much love.
Kevin

(Kevin) Right Here, Right Now

 

Can you believe that tomorrow marks the half-way point of my placement? It boggles my mind… it’s amazing to think that I’ve been in this beautiful country for 56 days! People have been asking me how I feel about it? Let’s just say it’s not a countdown until the day I get to go home – there’s still so much to do, and I’m ready.

Last weekend was spent in Senga Bay where I put on my tourist shoes for a few days of reflecting on my placement with the other JFs, and a bit swimming in Lake Malawi on the side. I won’t bore you with details of the trip, but two significant things are worth mentioning:

1) My passport and money were stolen. The passport turned up, but the money is long gone. People have been asking me if I’m upset, and of course the answer is no. There’s no time to be upset. I also acknowledge that my neglect was the root cause of this event – I was the one that made that opportunity for theft available very appealing and very available. Finally, I acknowledge that this was the action of one person, in one district, in this whole country. Outside of this, my experience has told me that Malawi is very safe and extremely welcoming. Gotta keep feeling the love.

2) During a really intense personal feedback session, my fellow JFs gave me feedback that I’ve been hearing for years and years. Why did this happen? What is preventing me from changing? Are these actually positive qualities that shouldn’t be changed?

One piece of feedback was that I’m too much of a mediator – someone afraid to tip the scales of my emotions and responses too far from ‘cool’. They’re right. During my journey here, I’ve found myself getting better with this, and I’m prepared to approach life with more assertiveness and more aggression. My analogy is tough hands from a life spent in the village – you have to put your paws on the nsima pot if you want calloused hands.

Last week I reported that I’ll be doing a field visit to one of the most remote Traditional Authorities in my district. Still true! Malawi is currently experiencing a fuel crisis, so I’ve had to postpone my trip until next week. When the consultant heard about my trip, he offered to pay for the motorcycle fuel and oil  that I need. “Don’t even mention it. It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve done around here.” This one action has really boosted my confidence, and is going to take me forward (both physically and mentally) in the weeks to come.

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Here are some important dates for me in the coming weeks:

July 1st – July 3rd: Helping a Water Monitoring Assistant with his field work. Fun fact: he lives beside the former President.

July 5th – Malawi Independence Day!

July 7th – July 10th: Trip to Mwanza district to meet my neighbors parents.

July 14th – July 16th: Sad day. Madalitso goes home.. I’ll be visiting him in Mulanje this weekend.

And beyond…

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That’s all for now. Don’t be afraid to tip the scales, touch the fire, but be gentle in the process.

I’ll leave you with a quote from my friend Scott whose a JF in Zambia. “Opportunity is never delayed.. it is only lost.”

Live, love, life,

Kevin

(Kevin) A Typical Day (in pictures)

 

Hey folks,

I’m nearing the halfway point of this trip, and this week I’ll be at the mid-way retreat where I’ll be reflecting on my placement and research so far, and catching up with the other JFs. I’m going to take the week off from writing blogs, and present this to you instead. I hope you enjoy a typical day (in pictures)!

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What does a day look like for me here?

Well..

Sleep is usually starts at 8:00pm and goes until 5:00am, or 5:30am, or whenever the roosters decide I’ve had enough. So, when it’s time and I can overcome the fear of stepping outside into 12 degree weather, I throw on my sweater, and head outside.

This is embowla. Before cooking, we throw charcoal in the top and light it up with a plastic bag. Sounds strange at first, but it’s the most efficient way of fire starting that I’ve seen anyone use. You’re welcome, environment.

 

Madalitso is lucky enough to have a private tap. Just like in most of Canada, the water is metered, and you pay a cost for what you use. For my neighbors, they have 7 different houses sharing a single tap. According to Malawi standards, up to 120 people can be served by a single tap! That must be really, really tough.

After lighting up the embowla, we grab a pot of water for tea, and a metal bucket of water to shower with.

Breakfast consists of bread, peanut butter (sometimes), fruit (sometimes), and tea!

As we get ready for the day, Madalitso and I throw some tunes on using my laptop. Our favorites are anything from Zambia, Bedouin Soundclash, and Arcade Fire.

Typically, Malawi office settings are very professional, so shining your shoes everyday is a must. It’s become a ritual, and makes you feel awesome.

I’m usually too lazy to iron, but if I wanted to, I would use this. You fill this metal iron with burning hot charcoal, which heats it up very quickly. This is a great, electricity-free way to make you look sharp for the office!

Time to walk to work. This is the bridge that I cross everyday, with a beautiful view of the mountains. This river has crocs – samalira! (be careful!)

 

Some days I spend in the office. This is my desk. You’ll notice my bicycle and motorcycle helmet (safety first!). Office days are spent compiling data, blogging, reading documents, or helping out with tech support around the office.

Some days I spend in the field. On this day, we were cross checking forms that had been completed by Water Monitoring Assistants who were assessing the condition of boreholes.

By popular request, I gave my attempt at filling a bucket of water using the Afridev pump. It was tough, but I finished.. eventually. They also felt it very necessary to capture this one in a photo.

After work, we cook dinner. Because we don’t have electricity, we take use the flashlight at the top of the cellphone, and put the cellphone in our mouths to have a hands free system. This is my favorite meal – soya pieces and tomatoes. The pot in the back left will be used to cook nsima.

 

Madalitso cooking up some tasty soya pieces. After dinner, we wash the dishes, shower, and head to sleep at the late hour of 8:00pm.

That’s all for now. Let me know if you have any questions.

Be well, and much love.

Kev

(Kevin) Untitled (Fight the mphamvu!)

I’ve decided to go with untitled this week. I’m at a point in this experience that I arrive at the end of the week, and realize there are hundreds of things that I could blog about. Field experiences, conversations, hypotheses, strange interactions, foods eaten, thoughts, challenges, and triumphs are just a few of those things. So how do I convey what’s happening here in just a few short paragraphs?

This week has been rough. I’m still getting used to the idea that Malawi is a country with its own unique culture and style that existed far before I existed. Some of these aspects work in Malawi’s favor, others – not so much. It’s the same for Canada. It seems like a simple thought, but it’s something that I have to remind myself when I find my thoughts and feelings incompatible with my surroundings. Questioning why things are the way they are is becoming a daily ritual – and it’s something that leaves me with more questions than answers.. On the personal side of things, I’ve had days when I’m on top of the world – feeling amazing about all of the learning, and there are days when don’t want to get out of bed – counting the weeks until home. Both are valid, and normal, and that’s okay.

Here are some bright lights and dim lights from the week:

Field Experiences
I spent a few days this week in the field with the Community Development Officer (CDO) for the project. We were crosschecking the rehabilitation assessments of boreholes that were completed by the Water Monitoring Assistants (WMAs). These assessments determine weather or not a borehole is eligible for rehabilitation by the project. Of the 100 or so of these forms that I checked over, the majority of them involved a request for pump rods. These are spare parts that need replacement every few years, and are typically the communities responsibility to replace (despite their steep cost). If the project replaces these parts once, what happens the next time they break down? One WMA told me that the project will empower communities by requiring them to open a bank account and raise 15,000MK (approximately $100US). “This will be the one and only time [we’ll replace pump rods]” he says. I’m not too sure about this..

Conversations
Talked with Yasin about why the water coverage situation in Malawi is in such bad shape. A significant factor is the political involvement in the siting of waterpoints. Essentially – you vote for and support me, and I’ll give you a waterpoint. Based other conversations, this practice still exists, even in Machinga.

Challenges
Realizing that successes are hard to find, and failure exists all over. Especially in this project. I show up at the office in the morning, only to see Chris and the rest of the staff correcting mistakes from the previous days activities, or working out problems they’re having with the government or the donor – the challenges are endless. Do I see success in this project? Sure, but it’s in sporadic, small doses, and that can mean serious de-motivation.

Triumphs
On Friday, I successfully arranged a 3 day visit to Ngokwe in July! Ngokwe is a Traditional Authority in the very northern part of the district. It has the lowest water coverage, and one of the lowest coverage functionality rates when it comes to water points in the district. Why is the water situation so bad? I suspect it’s because it is so far away – an obvious factor. But what about political will, community leadership, and accessibility to transportation and funds? How well were communities sensitized (i.e. made aware of and encouraged to apply for new water points) when this African Development Bank project arrived in the district? I hope to start to explore some of these questions.
Richard, one of the Water Monitoring Assistants, has agreed to provide transportation on his motorcycle in exchange for a full tank of gas. Done! I’ll even through in a lunch of chips (french fries) and coke each day. He’s a really great guy, and has expressed that he looks forward to the trip to ask me questions about the West. Should be quite the adventure.

That’s all for now.

Remember to take time for cooking, chatting, reflecting, and giving yourself credit.

Be well, and much love.

Kevin

(Spencer) Riding the Roller Coaster

Hello my friends!

Last weekend I rode the lorry from Karaga to Tamale and I would like to take you along for the ride! (All the photos are first person perspective so imagine yourselves in my position)

In Ghana there are two methods of public transportation:

• Government operated STC and Metro Mass buslines. These buses are of a large coach style, very similar to a Greyhound in Canada but less comfortable. Capacity of 50 seated plus more who maybe standing
• Privately operated Lorrys. Imagine the child of a school bus and a large white van; that child would be a lorry. Ranging capacity depending on the bus, people are packed like sardines; I would guess 15-40. When the inside of the bus isn’t enough there is the roof for people to sit. Other names for a lorry include tro tro and minibus.

The time is 2pm and the sun is beating down high in the sky, the temperature is approximately 30 degrees.  Fortunately, there is nice group of guys who I am waiting for the bus with in their favourite shaded sitting spot. Just past two, the lorry arrives from Gushegu and stops at the rode side. Immediately, it is mobbed by people trying to get on it to Tamale. Before I have even took ten steps all the sitting spots are filled and people are stuffing on the bus to stand. Not the ideal situation. Someone grabs my hand, points up at the roof of the lorry, and says to ride up there.

The roof is where our journey together begins. Climb up the ladder at the back of the lorry and once I set foot on the roof a man, whos name I later learn to be Raphael, calls me to sit right at the front of bus on the roof.  A few moments later the lorry departs from Karaga and starts rolling down the road. Once we are free of the limits of the town the lorry starts ripping down the road at a unbelievable speed.

We are all over the road, making a slow zig zagging pattern. Farmland flanks both sides of the road.

I tried keep this steady but the bus was very bumpy. I don’t know the speed of the bus but it felt terribly fast. Wind was howling past my face and blowing my hair all over. It was now I saw the parallel between riding the top of the lorry and a roller coaster

• Both go very fast 
• Both sway back and forth, though one is supposed to, the lorry because of the bad roads
• Both send wind past your face with such force your pushed back in your seat
• Both scare you silly while you have the time of your life!

Ghana is very green during the rainy season and this is only the beginning of the season. Everything comes into full bloom. Also around this time, Mahafuz, who was the other man sitting beside one made a comment about how good the driver of the lorry was. I thought; if this is good, what is bad?

Passing another vehicle. When asked why ride on top of the Lorry simply quote this image.

Passing through a village which I have been told is named Yamo-karaga. The houses to the left are called compounds. They are series of mud huts that are built in a circular shaped and connected with mud or grass walls. They house entire extended families in one large compound. The piles of wood will be used as fuel for cooking. All the animals are goats which live freely in Ghana that is until they are eaten.

  

A small body of water, what cannot be seen is the crocodiles that are basking in the sun just out of the photo.

Stopped at an intersection in the roadway to Tamale, at Nanton. When the bus stopped, people from the town ran over with food for sale, and I tried some delicious deep fired item. It tasted of onions. Yum

Under the beautiful trees =)

The last village before arriving in Tamale. The bus never let up speed the entire trip unless we were passing through a village with speed bumps. Interestingly this village did not have speed bumps so we ripped through at great speed.

The unexpected twist. We were on the outskirts of Tamale when the bus made a stop, Rapheal said to Mahafuz and me to get off the top.  A few people were unloading from inside the bus, it seemed that we had arrived at the end. Not exactly where I wanted to be in Tamale but I would survive, an expensive cab was sure to be in store.  Instead of the entire bus turning inside out it starting driving away, Mahafuz and I wanted to be on that rogue lorry.

He started running towards it, and I followed. We caught up before it was past our reach and grabbed onto the ladders on the rear. Clinging on for what felt to be dear life we rode the rest of the journey into Tamale hanging to the ladders. Risking life and limb I bring you this =)

Oh yeaaa! The streets just outside of core of Tamale, in the heart of the city the traffic is horrendous.

We arrived at our destination just outside the heart of the city in one piece and treated ourselves to sugarcane. There is a difference between a rollercoaster and a lorry; a rollercoaster is over in a minute while this lasts hours =)

One of the most fun experiences of my life I am sure, thrilling the entire time with a twist ending worthy of M. Night. Shyamalan.

Last stop, everyone out, hope you have enjoyed the ride. 

-Suhuyini

(Spencer) Fear God and Release Him

Astronomy is sexy….

Something unexpected happened last night in the streets of Karaga. It all began around 8pm at which time I was dancing like a fool while a boy played a traditional Dagomba guitar-type instrument, I did my best to get others dancing as well but all the children were much too content at laughing at the white man moving about.  A call came for everyone to come outside, and we cleared out from the room. We were greeted with the Aunties beating on plastic barrel drums and chanting loudly.

“Zom naawuni zagmo bahi”

This is great I thought, we have moved up from me being the dancing spectacle to a full out traditional dance with everyone involved. Round in circles we went chanting and dancing, the children were going absolutely wild. Drums beating and with a huge smile I realized that something more was going on than just a fun dance. A hand pointed me to the sky.

Blood red was the moon and the chanting continued. 

Wait.. What? Blood red?

Just earlier in the evening the moon had barely penetrated the skyline and now it was basked in red. Not a sight that is all too common.  The dancing and chanting continued through my confusion. Soon after someone said to me, “The sun has swallowed the moon”…ah ha! A total lunar eclipse, how had I not understood what I was seeing. Just my luck, something special was sure to happen.

A group of children came marching by, yelling out the chant and beating their drums. Our group run over and we became one slightly larger chanting mob. Moving between the compounds and disturbing everyone. As we moved children came pouring out of compounds to join the group and we became larger and larger. Little did I know how large this would become.

“Zom naawuni zagmo bahi”

Round we went navigating the narrow pathways and passing through fields. In the distance I could hear the beating of more drums and a humming of voices. By this time we were about fifty and more children were joining the march by the minute.  One girl kept telling me that I was very tired and I should go back to house. How wrong she was never was; I was more awake than ever, I couldn’t pass up this crazy march of children towards an event that I had no idea. It was she that was tired but I couldn’t communicate it to her that she should return home herself, I think she just wanted to keep me safe. Sorry to keep you out so late.

As we entered the empty market we crossed paths with another group of children headed a different direction. BAM BAM BAM went the drums as they passed by and the chanting from our groups feed on each other. Where were they going? Should we join them? What is really going on?  We continued our path drawing the youth to join the crowd.

We encountered another marching group chanting as they went past; we joined their ranks and in bolstered form started a path to the main road of Karaga. My friend Latifa caught sight of me and ran over, laughing histarically that I was part of the childrens procession. With a little coaxing she joined as well and fun times were had. The beating of drums grew louder, chanting bellowed, screams could be heard; we entered the main roadway.

“Zom naawuni zagmo bahi”

A sea of parading children was all that could be seen stretching both ways to the horizon. All of them chanting together, banging on drums, pulling noisy objects and having a ridiculous time. We were swept up in the charge down the street.  Latifa yelled to me, “The sun has eaten the moon, the sun should fear God and let the moon go”….ah haaa, the children want the moon to be free and are making all this noise so that the sun will let the moon go.  Than the running began.

By the time we reached the edge of Karaga a thunderous noise could be heard quickly approaching and there was screaming all over. The children had started running down the street and if not to run as well it would have surely been foolish.  About turn and like a herd of buffalo or in the case of the Lion King wildebeests (more Disney nights next year =0 ) the herd charged back and forth, all the while chanting and making all the noise humanly possible.

By now children from all end of Karaga have congregated in the great parade. I would estimate that there was between 1500 to 2000 children (youth) out on the street at this moment. A red moon eclipsed by the sun hung in the sky, it was absolute pandemonium.

“Zom naawuni zagmo bahi”

Back and forth on the main road this continued for quite some time. How could anyone be speaking in all of Karaga? The noise was tremendous.  Soon I was exhausted and sweaty beyond belief (why had I not changed out my work clothes!?), regardless there was cause for celebration! The sun had released the moon! A single solitary sliver of silver moon gleamed in the sky! Success! The past hour plus had not been in vain, we had scared the sun from the moon. Light would return to the night. Celebration!

The parade changed course and made its way back into the housing/compound area of the town.  The congregation made a winding path around Karaga as we went children peeled off to their respective homes. Still though the drums and chanting continued, we didn’t want the sun to get any ideas and sneak back up on that poor moon while we relaxed!

Half an hour later we rounded the last bend to my home compound…home at last. A night of crazy children and parading had come to an end; I had never seen anything like this in Canada. An event like no other; late at night, no supervising adults, self-organizing, full of traditional superstition, dancing, chanting, and so much happiness from everyone it was palpable.  What other surprises await?

A last beat on the drum, a farewell, and to my bed I collapsed.

“Zom naawuni zagmo bahi”

-Suhuyihi

Later:

I found out that the eclipse lasted 100 minutes and was the longest since the year 2000, thank goodness we were there to wrench the moon from the belly of the sun!

The translation:

Zom naawuni zagmo bahi

Fear God and release him

(Spencer) Under My Pillow

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Heres something I wrote on the bus from Accra to Tamale. I think I didn’t post it because I was afraid of giving the wrong impression of Ghana but I think as readers you are sensible enough to realize Ghanaian life is not at all like this. So take it with a grain of salt but it is fun none the less. Written on May 18. 

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Here’s an interesting little tid-bit about long bus rides in Ghana. The following revelation holds true on all long bus rides as we have been told Robin the team Ghana lead, who has experienced this phenominom than she cares to ever relive. The buses are equipped with a single television up at the front which they use to play movies while driving.

What kind of movies do they play?

Seriously Lousy Ones!

Currently a flick titled Under My Pillows is playing. An over the top soap opera type film with my westernized twists and additions to appeal to all sorts of tastes. The plot involves;

·         Prostitutes fighting amongst each other

·         Threatening clients (in one scene a lady threatens to cut one man’s jeans if he doesn’t pay more for her services, as she walks off the song Soulja Boy plays in the back ground)

·         People cheating and having affairs

·         Complicated office politics where the prostitutes also seem to work (?)

·         A rich brother and sister who have inherited a business

·         Plus an assortment of other characters who I can’t follow.

All throughout the flick are pop music samples, crazy sound effects, and fast and slow motion shots. Contrary to the opinions of all the EWBers on the bus, the Ghanaians were loving it, or at least some of them. Laughter of in the form of big bellows blew back across the bus.  

“She is not a gold digger, she is someone I am in love with``

Spencer

Note: upon further inquiry Under My Pillows is a television series it seems, Nicaraguan in origin but filmed for Ghana. Nollywood is huge. Check it out this summer if you are curious!

**PS.  The blog delivery for the next few days has been changed, it was a pipe dream of mine to do one a day but it got a lot of content in the works and got one pretty cool idea for my return started.