Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Thanksgiving and Fire Festival

--All the PC volunteers in Ghana were invited to the American Ambassador’s house in Accra for Thanksgiving. At our own expense, almost all of us made the journey, despite it meaning that we would be away from our sites for a full week during the school year. Many of us were able to stay with diplomats in their residences in Accra. I stayed with a veteran diplomat who has led a really interesting life, stationed in several different African countries over the last 26 years or so. While staying with her, I swam in the embassy pool and enjoyed hot showers, a comfortable bed, and air conditioning. Not to mention the cheese and ice cream. The embassy commissary is like walking into an American grocery store—it even takes dollar bills, of which I had none. Thanksgiving dinner itself was very tasty, but the highlight of my trip to Accra was meeting the diplomat, and her two loveable, plump American cats.

--I’m pretty sure now that I don’t want to be a diplomat or Foreign Service Officer. They really do live in a bubble, walking between the embassy and their gated compounds, eating American food, and working in a cubicle. I can do that back in the states. If I live abroad, I want to live in a breezy tenement with a six floor walk-up.

--Upon returning to Savelugu after Thanksgiving, one of the deaf teachers pointed happily to his arms and stomach and then made this puffed-up blowfish face…and then pointed to me. He was telling me I looked fatter, which here in Ghana is a compliment. But, ya know, as a westerner, I was back at my house doing my ‘Zumba Latin Cardio Party’ workout DVD within a few hours.

--My students won’t let me water my own garden. Every time I try to carry a bucket of water toward my garden, I have 3 students running after me, taking over. To assuage my guilt for having students do my work for me, I’ve started giving soda or brownies to my garden helper, Amedeba, every week. He’s thrilled, but has no idea why this crazy white lady is rewarding him for his labor.

--I made a flash card game as a review before the final, and although I will admit that I am giving the students candy if they get a correct answer, they all LOVE it. They are crazy excited, and even if they don’t know the answer or are just guessing, I can tell that some things are clicking. And I think the visual reinforcement is really crucial. It’s so great to see them all so animated and engaged. This week has been one of the most fun for me for this reason. I’ve also started thinking about what my school needs most, and what I can ask for in grant requests---at the top of my list are visual materials, laminated posters, bulletin boards, etc. When I asked the other teachers what the school needs, the best they could come up with is a ping pong table. Really?!? You don’t even have textbooks, and you want a ping pong table?

--I went to the Fire Festival in Diare on Monday night. Every Dagomba town in the Northern Region has a Fire Festival to celebrate the new year. The entire town (okay, mostly the men) light torches, and march toward a big, chosen tree, and then they throw the torches into the tree, lighting it on fire. Then they march to the Chief’s Palace, where they dance around the door for a while. When that group is finished, another group lights their torches and walks to the tree to set it on fire. There is lots of drumming, and occasionally someone fires a rifle into the air. Don't miss the two videos I posted to the right!

--The dust has arrived; welcome to Harmattan. It’s been cool (!!!) in the evenings and early morning, but…the dust! The air is thick with it, my nose is dry, and my house has layers of dirt that accumulate virtually overnight.

Rice balls and groundnut soup (I don't eat the meat), courtesy of Faustina

we traveled to see Mark's homestay family, and this is Nana; he's a real troublemaker, classic ADD

Mark's homestay mother, Faustina, and her son Nana

Thanksgiving dinner at the Ambassador's house



FanMilk presenting school supplies and a check for 2000 cedi to my school (for art supplies)

my tough headmistress in orange in the center, and my best student, Kwabane, on her left

they asked me to get in this one

Cutest kid ever. She was sitting down in the bucket, and I ran outside to take her photo, and then she started to think she was doing something wrong and got up.

haute cuisine Ghana-style: half of a FanMilk chocolate ice cream with homemade brownie

just throw that goat over your shoulder

Fire Festival kids, Diare

Fire Festival

Fire Festival

Fire Festival

Fire Festival (that's all the dust in the air!)

Fire Festival

man showing off at the Fire Festival

My entire school watching a presentation by the UN Human Rights Commission



more Thanksgiving photos


PC volunteers at Thanksgiving

Monday, November 21, 2011

It Continues...

--In Ghanaian public schools, students are taught that the natural environment was ‘created by God.’ Definitively. I saw this as a multiple-choice question in a Primary 1 textbook (“Who created the natural environment?”). The other three choices were names of men I haven’t even heard of. An option including “…the natural environment was created by millions of years of weather, tectonic shifts, etc.” was not available. Aren’t we supposed to be teaching verifiable facts in the classroom? Or at least educated hypotheses? There is absolutely no evidence to suggest that the natural environment was created by God, unless you take the word of the bible, in which case you should also take the word of other storybooks, like Harry Potter, and believe that people really can fly on broomsticks.

--My American friend asked me how to say ‘hello’ in Dagbani. It’s not that simple. In Dagbani, I say Desiba, Antire, Aninwula, Na Da, Na Mauni, Na Gorum, or Na Dar Ne, depending on what time of day it is, where I’m at, if I’m moving, where I’m coming from, and if you have sticks on your head.

--I can’t have a friendly conversation with a Ghanaian man, and not be asked for my phone number. Every time. It’s really obnoxious. Thankfully, I just tell them that I work for the American government, and I can’t give my number out (this is a total lie, but it works beautifully).

--I put my thermometer outside, and it read 116 degrees in the sun. And we aren’t in the hot season. It’s usually 95 degrees in my room during the day.

--The rain has stopped. It was raining every day, and then it came to an abrupt halt. No more. It hasn’t rained in weeks. Everything is turning brown.

--My solicitations for donations for art supplies have been very successful. I’m receiving packages from Dick Blick, and Strathmore Paper, as well as an approximately $1500 donation from a Ghanaian company, Fan Milk. Now, I can begin to dream of bigger projects at my school, like a batik workshop and wood walls for hanging artwork.

--The look on my students’ faces when I mix blue and yellow paint to make green is priceless. I’m like a magician; they are in awe.

--When I went to make copies at a Kinkos-type copier store, the shop owner first had to go buy the paper. A copier store that doesn’t have paper. Imagine. I waited patiently while she walked down the street and bought a ream of paper.

--I’ve spent a lot of time recently stalking my local birds--binoculars, bird book, and camera in hand. There are some really exotic species right outside my door. Unfortunately, I have the stealth of an elephant, and I usually scare them all away before I have a chance to identify them.

--My best P4 student, Basheru, wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to me--“You are good,” it said.

--I’ve mentioned this before, but the value placed on conformity in Ghana is so high, and it trickles down to the primary school level, where students are so eager to copy my example, but never to come up with new ideas on their own. In the U.S., an artist tries to make work that is different than everyone else, every student wants to come up with new ideas, and every shop owner wants to have a different product than the place next to them. But in Ghana, every bread-seller sells the exact same bread, made with the same ingredients in the same shaped pan. Every groundnut soup recipe is exactly the same. Every vender has the exact same selection of merchandise or food. In the U.S. there is a value on entrepreneurship, on originality—and it is often rewarded with larger profits, or whatever the goal might be. I think this value on conformity is a detriment to the development of Ghana and to their school systems. Every student is taught to copy the teacher’s notes into their notebook, without ever thinking critically about what they have written, without questioning it or understanding it. They memorize a scientific idea or definition directly from the book, but if the wording is changed slightly, they have no idea what you are talking about. We are taught in PC that we should not work for systemic change, but systemic change is precisely what Ghana needs.

--My P4 class could cut and paste forever, I think.

--Two of my P5 students stole some embroidery thread from my store room (sometimes the room gets opened in the evenings or afternoons for drumming practice), and when I arrived the next morning, I was swarmed by students telling me that someone had stolen thread. I told another teacher, and 30 minutes later, the thread was returned to me, and the girls formally apologized. They were also given a punishment of bringing sheep manure across the campus and to my garden for fertilizer (I love that in Ghana punishment means that the students have to do manual labor for me; I suppose it’s better than caning them, which is the Ghanaian alternative).

--I helped Mark edit some pen pal letters that his (hearing) JHS students are writing to students in America. Besides the fact that they were all virtually identical and copied from each other and from their English book, the letters were hilarious. They all began, “I hope you are fine, by the grace of the almighty Allah, as I am also fine.” All the students also described themselves as being ‘fair’ or ‘black’ in complexion, but Mark told me they are all nearly identical in complexion. I suppose they recognize variations in each other, though. Many of them also said that they had a ‘pointed nose,’ and I don’t have any idea where they got that idea from. Although the American students who receive these letters will probably be told that English is a Ghanaian student’s second language, they will undoubtedly be rolling in the isles reading the butchered grammar and ridiculous personal narratives.


My new garden fence, made by my students!

the start of the garden fence--it backs right up to the trash pit (on fire)

roaming donkey



mask-making 4th graders

mask-making 6th graders (yes, the very tall man on the right is in the 6th grade)



little goatys on my doorstep



I made this poster for the P5 class--all the fruits of Ghana

a pool in Tamale!!

the bearded barbet

bearded-barbet

another poster I made for P5

little goaty

color wheels--pretty good





red-billed hornbill
cattle egret

cattle egret





Some hip guys at Savelugu Catholic Church, who asked for my phone number after I took their picture...and then they asked for me to take them back to the U.S. with me.

Noonjam (student), Lydia (driver's daughter), and Joseph (my headmistress's husband)

Savelugu Catholic Church (3 hours long--a one-time cultural experience, for sure)

My 'counterpart' Ben signing for my students at Savelugu Catholic Church. Although my school is 80% muslim, there is a special bus that takes the catholic students to church on Sundays....because my headmistress is catholic.

In Ghana, I cook in a sweatband.

baby-naming ceremony with new baby Wisdom

baby-naming ceremony (I think this is the first time I've held a baby in 15-20 years or so)

Daniel (on the right) is a teacher at my school, and this is at his baby-naming ceremony

little goat

If I have a baby, I want it to have fur and hooves.

if this kid had an MFA, he'd be famous

rubbings turned into bugs





they like to put masking tape on their nose and ears



rubbings turned into weavings

Savelugu market chaos

Savelugu market

Savelugu market used clothing piles (all the clothes are from the states), plus PC volunteer Katie on right



working on texture rubbings








They helped me build my fence (along with some others)