More images from Damanko, Wli Waterfall, etc.

on the way to Wli

So, now you know who to contact...

Yes, that does say 'California Video Game', and they have a Playstation

the town of Wli heading to the falls

me on the Wli trail in my awesome new batik knickers

there are nine stream crossings on the trail

the falls!! Quite possibly the highest or longest waterfall in West Africa, although this is debatable.

ants on a mission

Kate in her natural habitat

one of the prizes for winning the tournament

the game ball, post-game

fufu ladies in Damanko

fufu, fresh fish, and light soup (this is not my meal; I eat it without the fish); looks pretty gross, but if you live in Damanko, this is what you get for a least one meal a day

fresh fish from the Oti River (see above for cooked product)

another nice image of the spectators at the football match

longboats ready at the edge of Oti River in Damanko

beautiful image at dusk of the Oti River

another image of the tro from hell; notice how the engine cover is permanently bent open; it IS a Mercedes, though!

Damanko

On Sunday morning, Carol, Mark, and I woke up at 3:30 am and were taken to the Tamale station to find a bus leaving for Yendi. When we arrived at the station at 4:30 am, we were directed toward the wrong line of people, and nearly an hour later we found the correct queue, where dozens of people were pushing and yelling, trying to form some semblance of a line so that the tickets could begin to be sold. Standing among this mess, we missed out on the first bus of the morning, but managed to be positioned correctly for the second bus. Before 10 am, we arrived in Yendi and met up with Brenden who was in our PEPFAR group and headed to Damanko with us. We waited for an hour while our tro filled—this bus was the worst bus I have ever ridden in, with the seats caving in and dislodged; I rode the entire journey with my hand on the seatback in front of me, holding it upright.

Oh, and the road! (Jeez, I was thanking my luck for having placed my site on a paved, main road, close to a big city.) We endured 3.5 hours of rutted, dirt road, going 5 miles an hour in and out of pot holes, with two goats up-top sliding and banging their hooves loudly across the metal roof with every sharp turn and bump. I arrived in Bimbila looking like an extra from a disaster movie, with dirt caked on the half of my face that was closest to the bus window. In fact, my backpack and my entire body were covered in dust to the point of earning a hearty laugh from my travel mates upon arrival. And we weren’t finished. We got in the back of a truck with two more goats on top and headed the final hour on another dirt road into Damanko. The last ride wasn’t so bad, except I was both peed and pooped on by a goat, dribbling down from above. Good times. My bucket bath that afternoon was well deserved.

Damanko is an utterly unexceptional town, with virtually no services, food, or goods. The PC volunteer here has lost 30 lbs in a year, mostly because there is no variety of food whatsoever. Damanko is the site for our HIV education field activities (PEPFAR). We are staying with a volunteer, Kristi, who is coordinating soccer matches in conjunction with an HIV awareness campaign. We are educating the soccer players to be leaders in their communities, who will spread knowledge to others about how to protect oneself against HIV, and distinguishing fact from myth about the disease. The first day’s events were fairly successful—we played several games with the Ghanaians, one of which helped them to visualize how easily HIV can spread when people are having unprotected sex. The men were only partially interested in these activities, and they mostly stuck around because we are white people, and that, evidently, is a pretty good spectacle to witness first-hand.

The remaining two days of PEPFAR were spent watching the soccer matches (boring), and giving small presentations on preventing malaria. On the day before we were to leave Damanko, I became sick with a high temperature and diarrhea. This sort of virus is incredibly common among the PC trainees and volunteers, and it’s really awful when it happens when you are traveling. That’s why they say that 99% of volunteers ‘join the club’ during their time in Ghana, which is another way of saying that they poop their pants. Thankfully, I did not join the club on our journey out of Damanko to Hohoe, but there were a few close calls along the way.

one of three cars/tros to take us from Damanko to Hohoe

evening market in Damanko---mostly fish from the river

waiting out the rain under a pavilion near the soccer field

bread-making oven

mid-game malaria education presentation

spectators gathered round the goal at the soccer game

our PEPFAR group

soccer tournament

HIV video presentation drawing a big crowd

Kristi's courtyard in Damanko--I'm painting the inside of my house this color

HIV and gender presentations in the local church

our accomodations in Damanko--not so great

Damanko in the evening at the market

goat up top

baby gripping Brendan's leg during the tro ride

people up top

worst tro ever to Bimbila

tro station activity in Yendi

animals up top

goat up top

my PEPFAR group waiting for a tro in Yendi

normal bathroom while traveling

Bread lady at the bus station

Savelugu Market, Tamale Market

Tamale market

Tamale Market

Tamale market

My town sign! (No, I don't wear this dress every day) (This is the day I got heat rash all over my lower legs--eww)

shea butter...I think

Savelugu market

Savelugu Market

Savelugu Market

Savelugu used clothing market

I apologize--this is a little dull. As part of our site visit week, we were asked to do a community HIV/AIDS assessment. This means that we were each expected to go to schools, churches, health clinics, etc. in our respective communities and ask them basic questions about HIV education, testing, and stigma. The assessment is part of a new Peace Corps/Obama initiative called PEPFAR that includes funding specifically targeted toward educational outreach about safe sex, condom use, etc. Unfortunately for us trainees, it was a bit much to ask of us to arrive at our site, and several days later to be out in the community ‘knocking on doors,’ requesting information. Not only am I not familiar with my community yet, or where things are located, but I’m also not known in the community, and Ghanaians (naturally) are a lot less forthcoming with a foreign face. This sort of assessment is much more appropriate some months down the line, when we have successfully integrated into our communities, know the proper formalities, protocols, and hierarchies, and we (hopefully) have many contacts and friends to help us glean this sensitive HIV data.

On the second day of my arrival in Savelugu, my headmistress took me to the District Health Administration, which was an excellent first step in the assessment process. There, I gave them my Letter of Introduction (given to me by PC), and I was introduced to the Director, and then given an appointment for later in the week to meet with the HIV education coordinator. Perfect! So, that was a positive example of how things work here in Ghana; I had one powerful community member introduce me to another powerful community member, and doors magically opened.

From there, I went on my own to a nearby high school, and spoke to some teachers who basically gave me a bunch of hot air about how they would support and counsel any student who was diagnosed with HIV. I highly doubt that would be the case in reality given the intense stigma against people living with HIV in Ghana. In fact, the student would probably be pressured to leave the school, either from other parents or from the administration. In addition, the student almost certainly would never disclose that they are HIV positive, knowing that it would be like committing suicide within the community.

So, having gained little useful information from the high school, I moved on to a small health clinic across the street. I was told they were very busy and that I should come back the next day. On the following day, I arrived, and spoke to the head nurse who almost had me sit down for our interview, but then she called the District Health Administration, who told her that she should tell me nothing, and that I should come directly to their main office. Well, I thought, great, maybe they are going to give me an early interview. No such luck. After racing across town, I arrived to find a surly woman who reprimanded me, telling me that I could not just go to any clinic and ask questions without getting prior approval from the Director, and that my brazen disregard of hierarchies is not how things are done in Ghana. Thanks Peace Corps (!!) for helping me to burn bridges in my community before I’ve even really arrived. Why on earth did they ask us to do this if it is inappropriate to go to individual clinics? Of course, a layperson can’t go waltzing into hospitals in the U.S. asking for private/sensitive information, but because we are white people in Africa, we should have open access?? No. My one solace is knowing that the surly woman at the District Health Office is known as a nazi among all of the PC volunteers who have dealt with her. And she's being transferred out of the district imminently.

So, 'community assessment' was frustrating; it made an otherwise awesome site visit, somewhat more sour. I did meet with the Public Health Director in Savelugu who essentially told me what she thought I should hear, such as, “Yes, everyone is educated about HIV, and a lot of Ghanaians are using condoms, and stigma is minimal.” Hmm. Right.