So how has it been? Some would call it a mixed bag. Some would call it natural. I call it being “okay” but having that state be an average of extremes, which are not mixing with each other and do not seem natural at all.

In the course of a day I’ll interact through phone, email, or in person with people that know and inspire me. This part is natural. In the morning I’ll have a skype call with a Canadian buddy or a Ghanaian one. They both want to know how I’ve been since I’ve been back in Canada, what school is like, and if I think I’ll go back to Ghana. They both make me so proud to be their friend, because, like me, they care about people, and that kind of person is what creates home for me. Home is where the people are, and that’s the reason why on a daily, even hourly basis, my heart is pulled in two directions spanning a big city, a massive country, and a daunting planet. Yet they’re both right here in my pocket too, texting me.

All those cool people that I get to know

It’s that uncertainty of the next face-to-face meeting with my friends that draws those sad, tightening feelings through my chest, neck, and face. Something that I didn’t have to worry about so much when I left Canada for Ghana, being assured that I would, indeed, return (I had my flight ticket already didn’t I?).

My "agric" buddy Mr. Abanga and I on my last day at work

And it’s that bubbling of shared memories and experiences that re-ignites the energy I get from the community I’ve built at SFU, where I can walk across campus and say hello to 10 people that I know. That I can show up to a breakfast with the President of the university because that’s my place, that’s what I’m comfortable with, and have 3 other people that I know also be in the room with me without previous coordination. To so neatly enjoy the life that I live in Canada because it truly is my life and I love it.

SFU Chapter at the National Conference

So how is it that with such intense excitement I’m “re-integrating” into my life at SFU yet in the next moment be sitting in such acute sadness, mourning a loss of friends, family, and coworkers?

How is it that such extremes can exist, neither detracting from the other, so that instead of being in a state of okay with a low standard deviation, it’s ending up that I’m solidly situated in an average of extremes?

Fall 2011 EWB Fellows

I seem to be alternating between a feeling of emptiness and one of a heavy weight pressing down on my chest, causing the tightness there to push up and leak out of my eyes.

For me, integration wasn’t my focus. That word never really entered my mental vocabulary until I received this toast from my coach and working partner, Don, a few nights ago. I was in this thing, from the beginning, to meet real people. To move beyond the vague conception of “the poor rural farmers” that I was working for, and to have real people that I am invested in, as people, that will work with me to make change in this world. I have this wonderfully in Canada, and this fullness of inspiring friends now extends its roots deeply into Northern Ghanaian soil. For me that is less integration, and more an emotional solidity in an expanded number of people in this world.

Gani and I one last time

The JF placement for me was a leap of faith, to choose a path that I thought was going to work, and that I was going to commit to try to make work. This path has more than provided for me; I had some amazing company to walk along it.

I’m feeling not so much that I’m leaving my friends behind, but that we are having our lives split apart, and that we will all grow down different paths for some time. And the hope is that they will at some point converge again.

As my best friend Arimiyaw said to me, “The problem is not missing you for now. The problem is missing you forever.”

My two best friends in Ghana, Arimiyaw and Max

Part of me is saying take me back to the North, I’ve left myself behind there. And part of me is saying take me home, I need to be there again.

We’re here in Cape Coast, a city in the south of Ghana, for our three-day in-country debriefing session. It’s important for us as Fellows to be able to start distancing ourselves from our work and life of the past 4 months in order to look at it more clearly, but to be able to do this in an environment where we’re with people that can understand where we’re coming from, and where we’re not freezing our asses off.

It’ll be the slow start to the reminiscing about our time in Ghana, and the rumbling start to re-integrating into Canadian life. Wish me luck, and see you soon.

To preface, I hate asking people for money. So what am I doing, asking for your participation in this year’s EWB Perspectives Campaign? Asking you to donate to EWB during this holiday season?

I believe that your donation will go towards supporting real change. That is, incremental, hairy, long-term change. I myself have donated to EWB, small sums of money, countless hours of time that could have been spent studying, and a full 5 months of my life to this organization. I wouldn’t ask unless I truly believed that my time, and your time, was worth it.

I’m asking for an investment.

I want you to invest in me, a student leader at SFU, a dedicated member of one of the largest development networks in Canada, and a recent employee of the Government of Ghana.

I want you to invest in the work that my chapter (a group of 30+ dedicated leaders across two SFU campuses), and chapters across Canada, are doing to push the Canadian government and public to stop wasting their money, and make better consumer choices and better aid spending choices. See the recent commitment of Canada to the International Aid Transparency Initiative here, which EWB has had a monumental hand in influencing over the past 18 months.

But mostly, I want you to invest in people like Dr. Saviour, Mr. Abanga, and Chairman. For those of you that have been reading my blog over the past months, you may be familiar with these names. Let me tell you a little about them.

Dr. Saviour directs the District of Karaga’s government office of agriculture. He has chosen to live in his district, despite the lack of material comforts and friend networks, because he believes he can make better decisions if he is present and accounted for, and in tune with his community. He is a participant of the DDA Fellowship, a leadership network developed in the resource-poor Northern Region of Ghana that strives to improve their leadership and management skills, in order to better serve their offices and farmers. He is passionate, pragmatic, loud and has a great smile. He is taking proactive steps to improve the services his office can provide, by innovating on approaches to nutrition like his Soya Bean Consumption initiative. He is trying to invest in his staff by rewarding those with high performance, and using leadership tools to understand them better. But he still faces some tough, and for me heartbreaking, decisions.

This year the rains didn’t come for Karaga District, meaning that most farmers got next to zero yields on their rice crops. For those that could squeeze a few bags of rice out of their fields, harvesting was delayed because the combine, coming from the Regional capital, had to be requested multiple times in person, broke down on the way to the fields, and has required multiple repairs since then. For those farmers who have participated in the government subsidy program, Dr. Saviour is mandated to take repayments from them in exchange for the seed and fertilizers they received during the growing season. If he doesn’t collect these repayments, the centralized government will reduce, or scrap the program altogether. But he knows that if he asks these farmers to repay, they will have nothing to give.

Development is hard, and it is difficult to tease the complexities apart in a system like this. The systems are often broken or unbuffered, which makes navigating them challenging for even seasoned veterans. Because of Dr. Saviour’s ability to be proactive and take strong leadership decisions, he will be able to facilitate his staff to address this situation. But because of his personality and his 6 years of working with EWB, Dr. Saviour is highly capable, and his abilities are far above the reach of most of the District Directors in this region. Yet he is not jealous. He is investing in his fellows next year by taking a leadership role in facilitating the DDA Fellowship. He will take his own time and energy, for no additional pay or official benefits, to contribute to a more capable contingent of district directors in his region.

Mr. Abanga is an Agricultural Extension Agent for the Karaga district, and I’ve worked closely with him over the past 4 months. He’s a young 30-something, who first started working with the district bereft of transportation with which he could visit his farmers. Because his job requires him to travel to communities, many of them up to 20km away from the office, there was no way he could complete his duties without some mode of transport. The office is supposed to provide transport, but across the northern region coverage is inconsistent. As a young employee with a wife and his savings invested in his education, Mr. Abanga could not afford a motorcycle of his own. But invested in a bike with the small money he had, and persevered in his outreach work, getting much-needed information on crops, planting techniques, and fertilizers out to the farmers he was responsible for. He is now a role model for the office, and his name is recognized by farmers from all corners of the district, regardless of whether he has been directly responsible for them. He has been keen to provide as much support to his farmers as possible through government and NGO opportunities.

A strong partner of EWB’s Technology Adoption strategies, he’s enabled key demonstrations in communities convincing farmers that things like testing the fertility of their seed, and planting with correct spacing, can improve their lives. Mr. Abanga has also absorbed like a sponge some key facilitation techniques from previous EWBers, and I’ve seen him implement them to great effect over the past 4 months. He believes that if Ghanaians like him start taking initiative, learn from others, and remain disciplined, Ghana cannot help but develop.

Chairman Mohammed is a tall, slim, soft-spoken man that houses his family in a village called Nangong-Ayili, about 10 minutes bike ride out of the town of Karaga. He’s a farmer, and a night-watchman at the Karaga Senior Secondary School, a stone’s throw from his house. His verdant maize farm in September was an impressive experience, and he was proud to show it to me. His soya beans pricked my fingers and gave me incredible blisters as we harvested them in mid-November. He is a good farmer, and cares for his family and extended family well. In total, he houses 23 people in his compound house, including some students, and strangers like me. He invests in his sons and daughters by sending them to school.

Yet the children are sick often, and they do not have the cash flow to go to the hospital or pay for medicines. The school he guards is understaffed and underfurnished. And last week, both borehole wells nearby to the village broke, leaving a few hundred people and a school full of students without a clean and easily accessible source of water. And I watch the women come in at night from a long walk to the nearest dam and back, carrying huge containers of water on their heads, and I think about the potential of an effective government system for making reliable and high quality health care, schools, and water systems accessible. I think of the monumental success EWB has had working with the Malawian water sector, enabling government to use simple tools to track and maintain water points across the country. I wonder when the effects of EWBs work with the Ghanaian government’s education planning offices will show. And I fantasize about a time when EWB, or an organization like it, will have the resources and expertise to foray into medicine in the developing world, a topic which truly makes me tick.

The situation of Chairman and my family in Ghana makes me realize the urgency of the problems we are trying to solve.

The dedication and ingenuity of Mr. Abanga inspires me to be creative and determined to succeed despite my resource constraints.

And Dr. Saviour gives me hope in a pragmatic and responsible administration for Ghanaian government. Without EWB’s investment in me, I wouldn’t have been able to gain this perspective.

EWB invests in people, like young leaders in Canada and Africa.

EWB invests in systemic change, preferring to target Canadian aid transparency holistically and pushing for better aid rather than more aid.

EWB invests in exploring and understanding the complexity of development. Life in Ghana isn’t any simpler than life in Canada, so why should international development, that is governments, NGOs, and individuals, try to treat it that way?

I cannot in good conscience tell you that EWB has all the answers. But I can tell you that our initiatives are driven by passionate and pragmatic individuals in Canada and in Ghana, focus on not just changing the board but changing the game, and are connected to realities and best interests of the bottom line of the people we are trying to help. I’ve experienced this through 3 years of working at a university and regional level in Canada, and one of the most incredible semesters of learning as a Junior Fellow with the Ministry of Food and Agriculture in Ghana.

It’s what Dr. Saviour, Mr. Abanga, and Chairman are investing in.

It’s what I’ve invested in.

It’s what I’m asking you to invest in now.

So please, if you are interested in investing in the incremental but important change I’m seeing, go to my Perspectives Campaign here and contribute, whether that be $2, $20, or $200, it all adds up.

Thank you.

It was pretty incredible to be able to spend some quality time with the women, as they have been an ever-present support whose activities during the day have remained somewhat a mystery over the past few months. Plus, there was a wedding preparation and ceremony on the Friday and Saturday, what could be cooler to witness as a cultural experience?! I got to meet a lot more people and chill with those that have seen me around, but whom I haven’t interacted with before.

And now the accounting begins… I’ve bolded the ones I was able to complete, and given myself a star for them. Unfortunately I totally forgot to purchase the cookies last Tuesday so I was unable to devour them one by one, but I may retain the privilege for sometime in the future (I deserve 18). I had a few challenges that were real highlights that I’ll tell stories about after the list. Finally, because both chores and weddings take A LOT of time, I was unable to attempt some challenges, rest assured, they remain on my list for the next 8 days, as I’m wrapping up and spending the rest of my time here in my community.

Chores

*     Fetch the water as the women are doing

*     Carry a bucket of water on my head, minimal spillage

*     Carry a baby on my back

• Carry a bucket of water with a baby on my back
• Walk to the farm 7-10km
• carry the firewood home as the women are doing

*     Set a fire using firewood

Cooking and Eating

*     Prepare TZ

*     Pound stuff for soup

• make popcorn
• invent a new food (Canada-Ghana fusion)

*     Make a meal for your family (Canadian or Ghana style your choice)

*     Eat what the villagers are eating and the number of times they are eating daily

• Ask for a second bowl of TZ
• eat okra fish again

Random

*     Catch a live adult chicken/guinea fowl

*     have a debate with a guinea fowl (after capturing it)

Communication/Interrelational

*     have a full conversation without any English

*     Introduce yourself to some people who might not know you

• Learn a traditional or legendary scary story told in Ghana
• (and a not so scary story for Grace)

*     Make a marriage proposal

*     Show your Ghana family a picture (or the video that we posted to you on youtube) of your chapter family at SFU

*     Give everyone in your village a high five

*     Allow one of the children free reign with your camera for 1 hour

• Take one photo each hour from the time you wake until the time you go to bed

Playtime

• Learn a local song that comes with a dance.
• Learn a children’s song and dance from Ghana
• teach the local kids a Canadian song and sing with them (WITH ACTIONS)

*     juggle a football (soccerball)

• play capture the flag
• play duck, duck, goose

Highlights

*     Carry a full bucket of water on my head, minimal spillage

So Day 1, I convinced everyone that I indeed was going to follow them to the borehole, and that yes of course I would try to carry water. They then assigned me the smallest bucket, called a bombilla in Dagbani. It was purple so I liked it, and it was similar to the one I used last time I fetched water. I hoped that I wouldn’t get an impromptu bath as last time though… but success! I returned with a nearly full bucket and was telling them that tomorrow, I would carry the big one (called a gwolaga?).

So pleased with myself, and dry!

Day 2. Late on Day 1 we were informed that the borehole pumps, both of them that are close to my community, were broken. This made me a bit anxious, given that it seems there isn’t anyone specifically responsible for them, and when I asked no one seemed to know. It seems that water is going to be a scarcer commodity for my family and community for quite some time… At any rate, some water from the nearby dam was delivered to about half a km from our house, so I eagerly jumped to join, even though I was relegated the small bucket again. I vowed to them that I would take the gwolaga, and they laughed and kept walking. Firstly, we had to transfer some water to the bins beside the house where the water was delivered. I got to pick the gwolaga, partially because there was a construction crew of men standing by urging my women to let me try. SUCCESS! I managed to get it balanced on my head, it wasn’t too bad, and walked the short distance to the house…and then, as I tried to tip the water into the bin, the seemingly inevitable bath time occurred. I was mostly just laughing with everyone else at my soaked sweater (it was the morning, and still quite cold), but also knew this would not reflect well on my chances to actually carry the gwolaga back to the house. But, in the end, I was able to finagle the gwolaga, and was happily about 1/3 of the way back to the house, doing quite well, until of course the cloth that I was wearing on my bottom half started to unwind…and get tangled in my feet…and start exposing my soccer shorts underneath (and my knees! Ack!). So quickly Ruby, the woman walking beside me, coerced me into giving up the gwolaga so that I could retie my cloth. I only agreed with the intention of taking it back, unfortunately that was not the end result, and I had to settle with my small bucket for the remainder of the trip. No spillage though!

Rouia with her gwolaga

*     Carry a baby on my back

So  for this one I wasn’t quite sure how to approach it…I was assuming given their experience with me, that though I am pretty happy and friendly, they don’t see me as the most capable of recruits for house-related tasks. As a result, I thought that they would be hesitant to allow me to strap one of their babies to my back.. However, the biggest challenge seemed to be choosing a baby that either wasn’t completely filthy (including poopy) or wasn’t crying upon seeing me or within a few minutes of being away from mom. Thankfully I found a willing subject in Baasiru, on Day 2, who calmly got strapped in and went along for the ride for about an hour as I went and did some more errands and talked to people in the village.

I also had the pleasure to take Zuéda to the wedding on my back, and get plenty oohs, aahs, and squeals of excitement from women of all ages, seeing me toting this little bundle of joy to the marriage house.

Sadly did not manage to yet combine the water and baby carrying in one, but I’m not sure how much the family would appreciate a half-drowned baby so perhaps it’s better I don’t chance it…

*     Eat what the villagers are eating and the number of times they are eating daily

This is an interesting one because people here eat A LOT, and at pretty much anytime of the day. One morning, we had coco (porridge), then rice, then some different rice, then fried yams, then beans, and then TZ for lunch! It was quite the procession of food, but the thing I realised is that people have small money and buy small amounts, all share, then buy the next thing. So while they have two heavy meals per day, in the midday and evening, they are pretty much constantly either doing chores, changing babies, or eating.

*     have a debate with a guinea fowl (after capturing it)

Well, I caught a chicken, not a guinea fowl. But then I sat down on a bench that had a goat sitting on it, and conversed with it for awhile. I was trying to convince it that its face was ugly but of course it was completely ignoring me, and my well-intentioned commentary.

*     have a full conversation without any English

This happens quite frequently, but I was sitting with Fatimata, the head woman of my household, and was telling her the reason why my friends from Karaga had visited me. Between stringing together some nouns and verbs, and repetition and pointing, she got the idea finally that I wasn’t suddenly deciding to go to Karaga after all, but was describing my friends. One of the things I think that happens sometimes is that a combination of my poor pronounciation and people’s lack of expectation that I might speak Dagbani to them makes them miss the first parts of conversations.

*     Make a marriage proposal

Now when I saw this challenge, I immediately pegged it as the most sensitive one. I can safely say that I could easily be taken as serious in any number of potential situations if I were to propose marriage, so I wanted to target carefully. Perhaps a small boy, or….a baby? How to make sure intentions were not misconstrued? And besides, how to actually propose in Dagombe culture is a complete mystery to me. I had a feeble attempt of asking Ruby, one of the new additions to my family compound, how it is that people propose marriage. She didn’t get me, and thought I was asking about logistics for the wedding that day….sigh…

Well, the fact that there was a wedding proved a good opening to start a conversation about marriage with Gani, my (not so) small boy friend who’s been my partner in the running joke in the family that we are husband and wife. What better way to sneak it in than as part of the joke? He actually brought up the topic, telling me about the wedding and the fact that it would create a “pa’aa” and “yidana”, which are the words we use in Dagbani for wife and husband, respectively, and which he knows I know from the family joke. So after he had explained, and illustrated with pointing to himself and me and repeating the words, I saw my cue and said “Gani, will you marry me?”. His small English allowed him to understand, and he nodded emphatically, and pronounced in Dagbani “and then in small time we will give birth!” and  laughed which I easily joined in with, considering the idea of giving birth anytime soon, let alone with Gani in rural Ghana, is more than faintly ridiculous.

I also wanted to share my pride, at a few tasks I was able to participate in and excel at during my few days at home. Firstly, I swept the entire compound clean, and it looked beautiful and fresh and it was all me, even though the sun was hot and I was literally dripping with sweat two minutes in.

Look at that beautiful sweeping technique!

Neat and clean! So proud of my handiwork

Secondly, I shelled groundnuts (peanuts) for about 2 hours with Fatimata, and got quite the technique going. We also listened to my Canadian music from my cellphone, and she rocked out bobbing her head and even trying to sing along to some parts. Thirdly, I put myself in a position to really participate in a lot of the different bits of the wedding preparations and ceremony parts. I had a huge laugh at the groom’s party, 8ish men dressed to the nines, doused in cologne giggling in a dark room as I snapped their photo before they entered the dance floor area.

The groom's side of the wedding party. Boss.

Amazing.

Here follows the account of Polyclinic round 1 and 2. 3 and 4 were not so eventful.

At the Polyclinic, one of two clinics in town but the only operational one, the outdoor waiting area is filled.  It’s like people are waiting for a greyhound and not for a chance to see the one doctor here. And as I walk up to the admin desk, I am first ignored, and then told that I should go straight through.

Where does that lead? Into the room where the doctor is in the middle of treating a patient. He asks me what is wrong. In turn, I ask “Is he not finished?” and point to his current patient, sitting there mid-consultation. Everyone in the small room (doctor, 2 nurses doing paperwork, and patient) looks at me for a few moments, a bit puzzled and maybe sheepish on the doctor’s part, and then resume as if I hadn’t come in.

It’s incredibly awkward to be shoved into a position of privilege, but sometimes I can in some small ways shove myself out.

I’ve ridden by the clinic before at 8am, and there are close to 30 bicycles parked outside of the gates of this place. As my extension agent friend says “sickness does not wait”, but these people sure do, and as much as possible, so will I.

Polyclinic round 2. 45 minutes since I have arrived, a young man sits down behind the counter to take my information. He asks for my name, I am weighed, and he is writing it down when I mention I have been here before. He then asks me for my health card. “I don’t have one” I said, and he insists that if I’ve been here before, I must have one. “They did not give me one before” I insist, and he relents and writes me a new card. Waiting for the “MA” (medical assistant? doctor?) for a few minutes longer, the MA comes to the office and sits down, explaining that he was attempting to maintain the position of a man’s intestines whose (internal/external?) stitches had come out and so that is why he was busy.

I assure him that it is completely fine, and explain my poopy problem. I’ve gotten advice from my EWB coach as to what I should ask for in terms of tests, and it is definitely colouring my perception of this man’s expertise. I remind myself that I am by no means at all an expert here, and list my symptoms and durations, answer his questions, and head over to attempt to get the tests done.

By this time, it is about 6pm, and getting dark. I am sure that this is when the clinic is supposed to close, but the MA is here, the pharmacist is hanging around, as is the financial assistant to whom I pay my 6 cedis (about $4 CDN) for the two tests I’m taking to see what is perturbing my bowels.

The tech assistant tells me he will draw blood for one, and needs a fecal sample for the second. I anxiously sit and wait to see how he intends to draw my blood. He ties off my arm with a rubber tube, and is trying to find my veins, telling me I have very small veins and it is not good at all. Doesn’t really instill confidence in me. Alcohol swab, and freshly opened needle, and I’m ready to be poked.

The tech assistant, Ahamad, tells me that he is going to pray, and I should go to produce my fecal sample and use the bushes. I’m highly surprised, considering I have actually seen a sign in the clinic saying “Public Washrooms”, but I do not argue at this point because I know already that I am causing him great trouble by being here late to be tested. But really, considering they are a health care institution, I expected that they would be encouraging safe sanitation practices.

I sigh as I sit back down after we both return. Ahamad catches this and tells me that Ghana will soon send me home. Immediately I sit up and tell him that no, it won’t, which is the starting point for me learning that he is from Tamale, doesn’t want to be a lab tech, because it is tedious and inactive work, and you can contaminate yourself, but he has no choice, because a job is a job. Yet both times I have been to see him for tests, he has forgotten to wear rubber gloves. I ask him if it is better than farming at least, and he replies no! Farming is better because you are active all the time, tending your fields. And then he told me about the agglutination of white blood cells in my feces, and about the solution he mixed in recognizing the antigen. I failed to mention my university-level understanding of this concept.

My friend Rafik whom I’ve told that I went to the Polyclinic asks if they injected me. I was taken aback by this, and asked why they should inject me? His reply was, “Oh, they just do that sometimes.” Wow.

But this is congruous to what I’ve heard, in that pills and injections are what people expect from a visit to the clinic, regardless of whether they need them. Echoed by my director’s words, “When I went to the doctor my parents expected them to prick you. If you were not injected, the doctor has not done their job. They don’t believe in the drugs alone unless they are injected.”

Somehow my belief in this medical system’s efficacy isn’t high. But at least there is some small access, here in Karaga town.

There’s an advertisement for early pregnancy HIV detection on the radio. Get checked early to protect your bundle of joy from HIV.

There’s apparently 34,000 patients for every doctor in Ghana. This is a national average, meaning that the ratio is likely far higher in the rural areas in which I’m working in the Northern Region.

Common knowledge says that guinea worm is eradicated in Ghana.

Each person likely loses about a month each year of effective working time because they are sick or recovering from malaria.

Mr. Abanga’s mother gave birth to over ten children, he is one of the four survivors. In his words, “this is the toll that disease takes”.

“Malnutrition is not a disease. It is a predisposition to disease.” Malnutrition is a spectre that haunts many households, in children as well as adults. By eating a nearly all-carb diet, getting essential nutrients just doesn’t happen. Animal protein is considered a waste to feed to children, and besides, animals are status symbols only when kept alive.

I’m stressed and anxious because the internet is slow here, and it takes ages to enter information into the online applications for Medicine at UBC, UofC, and the Ontario schools. They are clearly not designed for areas with low internet access.

I let out that I am accident prone, and Marc-André told me about 30 times where in Karaga town the polyclinic is. It’s around a 45 min bike ride to the clinic from his village, and he’s not the furthest out.

I sit with my family in Nangong-ayili, and listen to the various phlegmy coughs by the children. Zuéda has been sick for about a week now. Both Fatimata, and three of the other small children are also sick with the same thing. Yesterday was brutally exhausting for me with the stuffed sinuses, headache, and exhaustion, but my immune system turned around and stomped on whatever is rampaging through my family.

Whenever I feel tired, my family, colleagues, and friends, have asked me if I have taken medicine. Because medicine can fix everything, regardless of the drug and dosage. Medicine here is used and abused, worshipped and summarily completely disrespected. Whether it is local or synthetic.

At the polyclinic I have to give a fecal sample for some parasite tests. I ask where the washroom is, and the lab tech points me towards the bush. Open defecation is really the only option at the medical clinic???

People ask me if the medicine they are taking is correct. By reading the sometimes-present package, I can explain what the English means, but I always tell them that I am not a doctor.

The students I am living with told me that moringa tree tea can cure malaria, and so that’s what they rely on both as occasional prophylaxis and treatment.

For a headache, Chairman offers me a choice of two different drugs, and tells me to take two of one and one of the other. I tell him, no, I won’t, but I recognize the names as painkillers so I don’t attempt to tell him not to take them himself.

Health insurance costs about 12 GHC ($8 CDN) and a trip to the district assembly, a big building just outside town, to take your photo. No one in my household, save the students from out of town, has this insurance, despite the fact that babies and small children get free insurance if their mother is enrolled.

I received an email offering me an interview at UBC medicine, and I try to explain to my friend Gani why going to this school is so important to me, despite the fact that he has dropped out of school. My student friends are ecstatic for me, and I think they can empathise with the ridiculous competition, for even to gain access to high school or a training college after high school gives similar odds to Canadian med schools.

Medicine is overprescribed and misprescribed, and left unexplained, even when asked for. For my positive malaria test, I received three packets, and the instructions on how to take each medicine (twice a day, once per day, three times per day). No explanation whatsoever of which drugs did what, and through some basic internet searching and consultation with colleagues, I divined the malaria drug (good),  a drug to lower fevers and relieve pain (neither of which I had, which I clearly explained to the doctor), and multivitamins, which were unmarked and unlabeled. Needless to say, I only took the first of the three, and have felt in good health since, albeit with lower confidence in my local health authority.

Can you imagine how your life changes when your major worries for your child include HIV infection, when sick leave doesn’t exist yet you’re bedridden with malaria, and when access to quality clinics, professionals, and medicines is minimal?

I have had the pleasure of attending 3/5 DDA Fellowship sessions this year, and I must say I have been very impressed by the mental acuity of these people. My first idea of the Fellowship was that these were people with relatively low capacity, in leadership positions in districts and that EWB had a lot to teach them. EWB, in my mind, was clearly in the “helping” role. This vision could not be more misplaced. The DDAs we work with are definitely here to learn from EWB, but by no means are they low capacity, or in need of any particular “help” to do their jobs well. They are at the Fellowship in the first place so that they can go above and beyond what they are technically required to do, foster strong teams and incentives for performing well, and be proactive about identifying and addressing issues in their district. One example of this is the soya bean consumption project, which I talked about in this post.  These are no ordinary guys. Besides already being at the top of their class in performance among their peers in the Northern Region, they have the humility, as well as the passion, to admit that they don’t know everything, and that they want to improve in order to further their impact on district livelihoods.

Now, to be sure, these guys are fallible, and we’ve had plenty excuses surrounding lateness, some pretty obvious distraction during the sessions, and a lack of openness and honesty at times. But it’s hard to be perfect. And that’s what I wasn’t recognizing at the beginning, I think. That these men are human too. Capable of being as multifaceted as I know my own Director, Dr. Saviour, to be, and as capable and quirky as my best role models in Canada. And did I mention, incredibly, incredibly smart?

This here is the leadership of Ghana, the ones that should be recognized above the politicians for attempting to forward a better future for their country. I feel very honoured to have spent a few short days with them during my 4 months here in Ghana, and I look forward to a time when, as my Pro-F colleague Dominique put it, “we are sending leaders from Canada here to learn from you.”

From my feelings, it won’t be long.

In an attempt to more deeply understand the lives that rural farmers live, and thus inform my opinions and give context to my experiences and work, I will be spending 3 full days with the family that I have come to know and love. This strategically fits into the dwindling time in my placement, the fact that I am now quite uninhibited with them and they are similarly inclined to allow me to participate in activities, and the realization that I don’t really have a good conception of what they’re up to during the day when I’m off in Karaga at work.

So I’m going to stay 3 days without venturing out to Karaga, tailing targeted people that are part of my family, to see and do what they do.

But just hanging out with the people I have come to know and love won’t really cut it. I really want to push myself to learn more about them, and appreciate the work that they do every day. And so, here is where the Grand Challenge comes in.

For every challenge you set, I will try my darndest to complete. I need things that are simple, things that are difficult, and things that are ridiculous and/or complex. For each task I complete, I will reward myself with a cookie, take a picture if possible, and chalk it up on my success wall. Feel free to reward me as well!

So, to recap. Your role: set me challenges to try to complete during my three days stay. Specify a reward if you are so inclined. My role: attempt to complete as many challenges as possible, and eat plenty cookies.

The Challenge is ON!

Note: no electricity in Nangong-ayili means that I will not have phone or internet access probably by Thursday or Friday. That means you MUST pose your challenges AS EARLY AS POSSIBLE!

EDIT: Challenges Received so far

1. Carry a full bucket of water on my head, with minimal spillage
2. Carry a baby on my back (wrapped in cloth)
3. Numbers 1 and 2 combined
4. Ask for a second bowl (helping) of TZ
5. Catch a live adult chicken or guinea fowl
6. Make TZ, pound ingredients for soup
7. Learn a local song that comes with a dance
8. Walk to the farm (try to get one at least 7-10km away)
9. Set a fire using firewood

COME ON FOLKS! I NEED MORE I WON’T GET TO EAT NEARLY ENOUGH COOKIES FOR SUCCEEDING AT ALL OF THIS!

1. Having my feet be dirty ALL THE TIME. Ghanaians pride themselves in being neat, and generally I’m pretty good. But my feet, no matter what I do, get mottled and caked in dust. It shows up particularly well on my white skin, and I feel like a bum.

2. Having men joke about being my husband, or that I will marry their friend. Note: This used to me disconcerting, now I just laugh and refuse/play along depending on the situation.

3. Having a baby passed to me and not knowing what to do with it. Holding it wrong, awkwardly manoeuvring it, having it scream as soon as it sees me.

4. Doing the farming wrong. Uprooting an entire maize plant instead of plucking off the cob. Getting demolished by soyabean thorns.

5. Attempting to wash my clothes by hand by myself, and having the women in my compound glance over every few minutes and burst out laughing.

6. Riding on the back of the bicycle through town, as Maxim, the other fall JF, pedals. Having people tell us that I am so fat that I will surely break the bike, and Max is too skinny and weak to carry me.

7. Not having a clue what someone is saying to me in Dagbani. Staring blankly.

8. Having men that I have only met once or twice tell me that they love me, and want to make babies with me. In complete seriousness.

9. Running to catch a Frisbee and fully tripping over a gigantic log, falling flat on the ground. Laughing so hard, and my friends suggesting that we stop playing for now…

10. Having stuff in the basket of my bicycle, and dumping it all over the road. I have now done this 5 times, including yesterday. In all manner of locations, scattering pens, first aid kit, bursting water sachets, and my wallet. Always with an audience. Without fail, people have been highly concerned and very intent on helping me pick stuff up. I always cannot believe that I have done it yet again.

So there you have it! The top ten most embarrassing things (that I can remember) that happen to me here in Ghana. Hope you enjoyed them!