A not so graceful return

Every trip I've taken that involves the words "culture shock," has been more difficult to return from than it was to take. This seems to happen for a few reasons:

1) You've seen some shit
Pardon my being crass, but until you've watched an old woman beat back a charging ram on a dusty African road with no more than a stick you won't necessarily know what I'm talking about (this actually happened, that ram lived on my street and he was a complete asshole).  The fact is, that when you travel, you see and experience things that change you. This change may not be obvious or easy to put a finger on, but it becomes pronounced as you try to slip back into your old routine.

Artist's rendering of the assailant

The prime suspect. Also, remember the gazebo for bullet number 4.

                                  

2) Life is a little bit boring when you return
Moving to a new country is a difficult experience, moving to a new developing country doubly so. From your morning commute, to finding a reputable food source, every mundane task becomes an adventure. On top of that, you lack the language skills, body language, and cultural understanding necessary to navigate social and commercial interactions. This meant, that successfully navigating your morning commute had the ability to feel like a real accomplishment. Upon returning, the senses of adventure and achievement from everyday tasks are noticeably absent.

Boring Alberta Commute

Exciting Ghanian Commute

3) You're not famous anymore
My roommate will likely attest to how much I disliked being labeled "White Man" on every block while walking down the street, but at least it was an accurate label. Nevertheless, there are some distinct benefits to being a foreigner. You are able to circumvent some social conventions, able to meet people more easily, and generally viewed as interesting simply because you are from somewhere else. I am sure this is not the reality for all foreigners and there are elements of white-male extrovert privilege attributable to the positive nature of the experiences I have. As a result, I was wondering if others might share their perspectives and experiences on being a foreigner.

If I changed my name to "Obruni (Twi for 'White Man;),"
they would all know my name.

4) People's priorities seem a little off
When you return from living in less pampered conditions, you appreciate things that are taken for granted by most people. A hot shower? Divine! Pooping shapes again? Made my day yesterday. No ants in my cereal? Slightly disappointed by the reduced protein content of my breakfast, but still very exciting.

This elation is then quickly contrasted with the everyday annoyances that face the people around you. For me, the moment that stands out from recent weeks, was when my friend's aunt began to complain about how the snow had dented the roof of their gazebo. At this point, I had been back in Canada for a week, and was just gaining back my ability to not be asleep on a couch, so the only thought I had on the subject was: "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE HAPPY YOU HAVE A GAZEBO!" I know, I know, I lack empathy, it's something I'm working on. The first few weeks are the hardest, but I assure you, I will slip back into being annoyed by everyday things soon enough.

I'm assuming this is the gazebo in question

A terrific place for a gazebo

5) It's unbelievably cold
I'm not sure when I became a warm weather person. I have distinct memories as a child of waiting for the bus in -15 Celsius in a leather jacket. Now, I'm walking in downtown Toronto bundled up in three parkas and I'm still miserable. Is this an age thing or a me a being a wuss thing? Ghana's weather and I got along swimmingly. The heat, the humidity, the beach, ice cold Fan Ice, typhoid. Yup, those were the days. I was rudely plucked from my tropical paradise and dropped in the middle of an Albertan snowstorm...

My location on October 2nd, 2014

My location on October 4, 2014

Typhoid Part II: Electric Boogaloo

So the funny thing about typhoid is that it tends to come back after being treated. About two weeks after recovering from my first bout of typhoid, I came down with it again. It's an unpleasant affliction: dehydration, dizziness, extreme fatigue, and all kinds of intestinal discomfort. A lot of people also get fever, but I was thankfully spared that bit.

I went to my doctor, and another round of Cipro was prescribed. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of taking Ciprofloxacin, their tagline of "If you the disease doesn't kill you, our drugs will" should serve as a good summary. Seriously, the symptoms I mentioned above are all included on the list of side effects caused by Cipro. Don't believe me? Have a look.

This however, turned out to be the least of my problems, because most of the way through my second week of nuking every bacteria in my body, I woke up with a high fever, joint pain, headache, and a very sore throat. Now some of you will notice that these are also the symptoms of Ebola, that's because you are paranoid. They are actually the symptoms of nearly every disease you can contract in West Africa. The doctor prescribed another antibiotic to ward off what was becoming an increasingly severe throat infection. At this point, I was losing faith in modern medicine and was thinking of heading to my local witch doctor.

This is literally the sign for the witch doctor.

There are signs everywhere for the witch doctor near my work. The sign above being my personal favourite. The giant wolf attacking the woman in the bottom left corner being the most bizarre thing I have seen on a sign in Ghana. However, the sign does fail to mention that he can also cure night witches. These are women who are able to practice black magic without the aid of potions and can cause everything from tuberculosis, paralysis, infertility, and death. So, if you are suffering from a night witch making your life a living hell, I know a guy.

A few more days passed and I wasn't getting better. At this point, my throat was about four different colours and I was entering my second week of feeling like the 6 steps to my kitchen were the equivalent of walking through the desert for 40 days. As a result, it was time to go back to the hospital, where I was given a bed, an IV, and a very loud television for 3 days.

My roommate and others stopped by (my thanks to them for keeping me sane and bringing me food and water) to keep me company when I was in the hospital, but as the Ghanaians are as liberal as the Americans with their overuse of narcotics as pain killers, I mostly just slept. The one thing I remember distinctly was a soap opera that was on one afternoon that had "Three Blind Mice" as the only song that played in the background. It was just as irritating as it sounds.

At this point in time, it was determined that once I was stable, I should return home to seek additional medical treatment in Canada. I had been on antibiotics for 22 days in the last month and my weight had dropped from 175 lbs to 158 lbs. So if you are looking to lose weight, skip the tape worms and Jenny Craig and go straight for the typhoid and tonsilitis.

It is very important that things be properly labeled!

The journey home went well, no ebola checkpoints and I got a marriage proposal! Seriously, a woman checking my passport actually asked to be my wife. It was mostly a joke, I think.

Returning through London Heathrow was a little overwhelming. I always find it difficult going from a developing world context back to the West. Things tend to shift from being simple and straightforward to opulent and confusing.

Nevertheless, it is good to be back home resting and working with Canadian physicians. I know that I am extremely lucky to both have had the opportunity to work in Ghana and the ability to leave when my health was in question. These privileges illustrate the extreme inequalities that persist in the world and I will talk more about this in my next post. 

Adapting to Ghana: Proverbs and Lessons for Visitors

Adapting to life in Ghana has not come overnight. Here are some of the lessons I have learned in my first six weeks here:

1) Don't walk and text.

This may seem like a pretty simple lesson. I can hear a few of you muttering, "people get hurt and worse for doing this in North America Michael, of course it will be more dangerous in Ghana." You're right, it is more dangerous, insanely so. Here are a few examples:

     Those bridges don't look sturdy...

Why yes, my shop is guarded by a moat.

There's an open manhole up ahead. 
Can't see it? Exactly my point.

It was this manhole.

Or this one.

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2) "You are never alone in Ghana" - Ghanaian Proverb

The kitchen is my battleground.

While this may sound either like a reassuring statement about how your friends and neighbors are always here to help, or some paranoid babble about stalkers and the CIA, it's actually about bugs. No, not the CIA... that's just your malaria meds talking. I meant insects. There's lots of them, they are everywhere, and they are persistent.

My roommate and I have been at war with an ant colony all week. They attack at the slightest sign of food. Everything is sealed in plastic bags or locked up in the fridge, and yet here they come... Marching in. The Ziploc on cereal was open by a sliver and the next time I grabbed for a nutritious breakfast, I almost got a double helping of pincers and protein. 

Could be worse I guess, Tamale has spiders the size of your fist and my co-worker (Alexis) has a door full of termites.

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3) You do not speak like nor hear like a Ghanaian.

This may also seem obvious. However, the degree to which you can be wrong with words and names you do in fact know is astonishing. I can't tell you how many times people have told me their names only to be greeted by a look of utter perplexion on my face as I try and decipher what on earth it could be. 

This is Joe, I got his name on the second try.

"My name is Donothone." 

"Daniel?" 

"No, J, O, N.."

"Oh, Jonas!"

(Look of exasperation).

My favourite example of this so far was when my roommate was trying to figure out what junction to get off the tro-tro at to get to our new house. 

For those of you just joining us, a tro-tro is a mini-bus crammed full of half your community and their assorted wares, and is served with delicious refreshments at every intersection. It is the public transportation of your dreams. 

She asked the mate (the guy in the bus who takes your money and destination), who said she should get off a "Pane Gwain" junction. I'll let you try and work out what that might be in English. And yes, it is English.

"Pane Gwain" Junction

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4) Your delicious roadside Jollof may come with a side of typhoid.

Doesn't look so bad right?

My Mother's last words to me before I left for Ghana were: "Remember, cook it or peel it." In hindsight, it should have also included something about bringing a sweater. It's cold here sometimes. But I digress, Ghanaian food is good, Ghanaian street food, doubly so. Now I came in thinking: "I ate through the streets of Delhi, how much worse could it be?" The answer... Much  worse.

 "I will have the ground nut stew, and please, hold the cholera."

North America is currently panicking about the outbreak of Ebola in West Africa. Accra on the other hand is trying to reign in a rapidly spreading cholera. Sanitation is difficult because of the open sewers. Typhoid, and hepatitis are also major issues for Ghana. Many Ghanaians I meet do not eat at roadside stalls for fear of getting sick. 

Since the typhoid, I have restrained my usual sense of adventure. Opting for places that instill confidence in my bowels. Like Ghana's first microbrewery, H-Street Grill!

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5) I guess it rains down in Africa - Toto

The view from my deck in Accra.

I have mentioned the rain here before. It is downright wet. As a result many Ghanaians don't go outside when it's raining (Let the record show: Portland, OR just rolled its eyes). This means that people don't really walk in the rain, or even go to work in the rain.

I am writing this post on just such a Rainday.

Sorry I can't come to work today, I got typhoid.

It has been a very eventful couple of weeks. My work with AfriLEAD in Tamale kept me very busy as we worked to select 16 fellows from a group of 70 talented young professionals for the Young Managers Program. I was then informed that I had been evicted from my house in Accra because my roommate came home late. The next week I worked hard to put together a monitoring and evaluation strategy for YMP before I had to return to Accra this week. Everything was going according to plan (minus the eviction-but more on that later) until I got typhoid.

Despite what people may tell you, the typhoid vaccine is not very effective (only about 50%), and typhoid is not fun. Fever, abdominal pain, diarrhea, and in my case malnutrition and severe dehydration. Nevertheless, the clinics I have gone to so far are professional, clean, and well run. At one point, I wasn't sure if the antibiotic (cipro) that they gave me was any better than the typhoid, but here I am, slowly returning to life.

Tamale!

It's a very different city, one that feels almost rural. The people are very friendly, and less intrusive than in Accra (where everyone wants to be your good friend). I had a great place for egg and bread (a fancy name for an omelette on butter bread) in the mornings and a nice hotel room near the city center. The hotel fan had one speed: hurricane. The background wind storm complimented the late rains that have come to Tamale. When I say rain, I mean torrential downpour. 

AfriLEAD volunteer Mariette showing her skills as a Ghanaian electrician (or in this case using a plastic spoon to by-pass a plug's safeguard so she could plug a kettle in for coffee. She has her priorities straight if you ask me.)

Returning to Accra
Halfway through my stay in Tamale, I was notified by my roommate, Amanda, that both of us had been forced to leave the house we were renting in Accra. The reason: she had come home late on a Saturday night. Now in Ghana, you pay your rent upfront (by law this is capped at 6 months of prepayment, but that is not often followed). As a result, the land lady who had thrown Amanda out and packed up the things I had left when traveling in Tamale had 2.5 months worth of rent for the two of us. I spoke with her briefly about the incident and was informed that she would likely not return any of the money. Any further attempts to contact her were unsuccessful.

The chase
After being entirely ignored by Denise for weeks, Amanda and I went to the police. The service, professionalism, welcome and understanding of the officers we spoke with was impressive. We went to visit our land lady with police officers in tow and found the place empty. We were then told to return to the police station the following week.

This time when we returned, the police had had word of where our land lady was hiding (she had been staying at her other house in the same community). When we arrived we were shown the way, and the police crept quietly through the small community, slowly pushing open the gate and opening the front door of the house. "Excuse me Madam," said the inspector, "we would like you to come with us to the station." The whole ordeal would have made a boring episode of Cops!, but I was never much for crime dramas anyway.

The following few hours were spent in front of a Crime Officer, in which both sides told their story and our land lady was charged with two counts of "Inducing a Tenant to Quit," and informed that she had one month to return to each of us 1.5 months of the rent. Case closed.

A work trip to the town of Somenya. We visited a Mango Growers Association to speak with them about Mobile Business Clinic's upcoming training in the Eastern Region. The countryside is beautiful and Mango farmers were interested in the training; however, they were hoping we might hold it in their facility and not in a different town.

My first Ghanaian wedding: Mobile Business Clinic was invited to a wedding by the landlord of our office building. It was an interesting ceremony, very traditional. Nevertheless, about half of the ceremony occurred before the bride and groom arrived. Are you allowed to be late to your own wedding?

I now live in a different community in more central Accra. It is nice, busy and centrally located. The morning this picture was taken, Nelly Furtado was blaring from my neighbour's home on the left. In addition, there is a garbage truck that drive around the community playing the same music as an ice cream truck. When I figured that it wasn't ice cream, I was sorely disappointed.  

In addition to garbage instead of ice cream, the apartment was also devoid of electricity for many days. A substation was undergoing major maintenance in the region. This meant romantic candlelight dinners! Also, very warm, very stale air to sleep in. At least it's not snowing!

Week 2: Tamale and the bus ride of Doom

Week one of work passed in a blur as most first weeks do. There seems to be 5 steps:

1) Excitement

You have a vague understanding of the work you will likely be doing and a vague goal and plan in mind. All these things combine into an optimism that tells you that you can change the world. Your spreadsheets will be the best, your presentations will be flawless, and the organization you work with will shine brighter than ever before.

2) Reading

You now realize how little you know of the organization, topic area, and work you will be doing, which means that you get to spend the bulk of the next couple of days reading everything you can get your hands on. Sometimes you understand it, sometimes you don't, but you consume all of the information you can and begin to try making sense of it.

3) Confusion

The documents you read and the people you speak to all begin to point to one particular problem: the organization you are stepping into is a chaotic mass. There are few processes, information is not stored logically, and the format of documents, reports, etc vary widely based on the individual who created them. You no longer understand what your goal is, or how you fit into your role.

4) Tantrum

This is ridiculous. The organization may or may not know what they are doing, and you certainly don't. The existing bureaucracy makes things at best inefficient and at worst impossible. Screw it, it's time for a drink.

5) Acceptance

Maybe this won't be so bad after all. The people around you seem well-intentioned and are fun to be around. Plus, with all the inefficiency and lack of standardization, you can't help but meet or exceed expectations. It's time to settle in and enjoy the ride.

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Both my co-worker (http://amandacoxdesign.wordpress.com) and I have arrived at the Acceptance stage of our first week of work. My tasks with the Mobile Business Clinic will be to: I) assist in revising the course curriculum prior to the Clinic in Korfidua in October, II) work on developing a business model for Mobile Business Clinic to become sustainable, and III) assist in the set up of a seed fund to be added to the Clinic. This fund could be accessed by clinic participants to enable them to pursue investment ideas.

On to Tamale

After the first week, I had a somewhat relaxing Saturday in which I played a few hours of soccer with a co-worker of mine and his friends, and then went to see Guardians of the Galaxy. The sense of humour in Ghana is definitely different and I did not laugh with the rest of the audience. Awkward...

This is the view of the valley on the drive to my place just outside of Accra. You will notice the wonderful layer of smog that blankets it and the lungs of its inhabitants. My thanks to the very large garbage burning pile of garbage for the enhanced sunsets that it provides. For more information on the garbage dump: http://www.local.com.gh/pantang-dump-site-mountain-garbage-sprawling-residential-area-148559.html.

Where I play football on Saturdays. I now regret quitting soccer when I was 8.

This is Fan Ice, it tastes like soft serve ice cream in a bag. It is now my reason for being. I am eating as much as possible to prevent weight loss.

The bus to Tamale

My venture (MBC) is loaning me to another venture, the Young Managers Project, for two weeks to assist in the set up of their monitoring and evaluation effort. As a result, I woke up at 5AM on Sunday to travel 12 hours North to the city of Tamale. When I arrived at the bus station at 6AM, I was informed that the 8AM Imperial Express bus was sold out. In response, I grabbed a cab to the STC (government-owned) bus station to attempt to get on one of their three buses on Sunday. These were also sold out. An employee saw this, and promptly told me to sit down and wait, he would help me shortly.

This is one of the more uncomfortable things that happens regularly. The situation goes like this: the Obruni (foreigner/white person) comes in and is given preferential treatment/is able to by-pass the line/have an exception provided for them. The employees who provide this sometimes expect additional compensation. Sometimes it is difficult to recognize when this is happening, other times, it is blatantly obvious and uncomfortable. In this particular situation it became clear to me pretty quickly and I told the employee I was going to one of the other bus stations to see what I could find. He insisted on accompanying me back to Imperial Express Station to help. When we got back to the station, he spoke to a man, who then walked up to the counter and enabled me to buy a ticket on the bus that I was denied entry to an hour prior. I’m still not entirely sure what happened or why. Was the bus not actually full? Did somebody get bumped? Situations like this seem to be fairly common and I am still figuring out how to handle them.

The drive up to Tamale was beautiful and bumpy. The road has big speed bumps every kilometre or so, which makes sleeping very difficult. In addition, the speakers blare Ghanaian movies for most of the trip. Further exacerbating this issue is the fact that Ghanaian movies have no shortage of screaming, yelling, and fighting in them. After twelve sleepless hours, I arrived in Tamale!

A picture from outside the Afri-lead (YMP) office in Tamale.

Part of my breakfast this morning. To answer your question, yes, that is hot coffee in a plastic bag. A water fight with me right now would be very unwise.

A brother and sister fight over a basket of candy their mother got for them. The brother is clearly picking on the sister. I can relate to the plight of the boy, I remember being forced to share with my little sister. So unfair.

Week 1: The flight was hard, I should probably take vacation

After landing from any flight, we all seem to politely ask, “How was the flight?” As if spending 25 hours in a steel tube beside individuals as unkempt, underfed, sleep-deprived, and under-oxygenated as I am could be a pleasant experience. This particular intercontinental journey did meet expectations and Egypt Air provides actual meals! My apologies to Air Canada, but lunch on your flight consisted of the loneliest roast beef sandwich I have ever met. It did not count as a meal, and if you could introduce him to a vegetable or a condiment, then he and I would both be so much happier. But enough about the flight, let’s get to the good stuff!

I arrived in Accra in the midst of the workweek and as a result, my Western brain assumed that first thing Wednesday morning, I would be trudging into an office in my then VERY wrinkled pants and dress shirt (it’s hard to keep things looking good when they are crammed in the bottom of a 75L pack). However, my boss was away on business in Northern Ghana, which left me with two options: 1) stay in Accra and get settled, or 2) tag along with a few EWB fellows on a trip to Ghana’s second largest city: Kumasi. Naturally, I chose Kumasi, and departed the morning after my arrival for a 5-hour bus journey to a new city. We spent the night at an EWB venture house. The venture was Votomobile, they do mobile polling for governments, NGOs, etc. Very cool organization, very talented people.  I met several new friends pictured below:

The following morning we visited the largest market in West Africa. It was truly impressive and no picture will ever do it justice. So here are two pictures that combined, do not adequately capture the experience.

After shopping, we did what anyone would do: left Kumasi for an amazing freshwater lake in the middle of crater created by a meteor! The hotel that my fellow Professional Fellow (FPF), Amanda, and I stayed at had some of the most vocal goats I have ever met in my life (they are usually chatty, but this was something else). It was upon remarking this to a fellow Junior Fellow (FJF) that I learned of a fellow Previous Fellow (FPrF)’s radio show that included a segment entitled: “Goat or Child.”  Sadly, I cannot find the actual thing, so here’s an approximation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlYlNF30bVg. The point is, goats are everywhere, they sometimes sound human, and they make me giggle.

 Alas, vacation could not last forever and my fellow Jolly Fellows (FJoF) – please ensure you have all of these acronyms down – and I returned to Accra for work on Monday. My first day of work was as a panelist with the Young Fellowship Program (YFP), which was conducting a group interview of candidates applying for fellowship positions. The interview consisted of a group case study on the Maize Industry, a group presentation, and an individual interview/debrief. My role was to be a facilitator for one of the groups and then an interviewer. The candidates were truly impressive and it was a privilege to be apart of this event. YFP will be conducting similar interviews in two more cities. They will then conduct follow-up phone interviews with the candidates and then be left with the difficult task of selecting 16 fellows for this year’s program. The fellowship provides one-month of training and then a five-month work placement in an agribusiness in Ghana. If you wish to find out more about this program, visit: http://www.afrileadinstitute.org/programs/ymp/.  I will have another opportunity to work more with YFP in Tamale for a few weeks starting next Monday.

 Tuesday was my first day at the Mobile Business Clinic (MBC) office in Accra. The office is near one of the businesses junctions in the city (Zongo Junction). I will cover more about the MBC in later posts.

My intention was to take a picture of my dinner prior to eating it, but alas, hunger got the best of me. Displayed below is the remnants of my groundnut soup with chicken (it was very spicy), Banku on the right (fermented cassava and corn dough - it takes some getting used to, but is quite nice), and my bag of water on the left.

In which I disobey signs and attend a beautiful wedding.

The past week and a half has been a blur. I was in Toronto for pre-departure training for Ghana. Much of this centered on difficult conversations on power, privilege, gender, and development. Incredibly powerful topics in any context, and vital for the work EWB does.

For those who don't know, my work assignment has changed dramatically since I was first accepted to the Fellowship program. I will now be working with the Mobile Business Clinic. An endeavor that seeks to build management skills, leadership skills and business acumen in the middle management of agricultural businesses. My specific tasks will likely focus on monitoring and evaluation, but may include a variety of other tasks. I am excited and nervous. I will likely have a lot of self-management to do in order to be effective. Humility, patience, active listening, coaching, and shutting my mouth are just a few of the items on that list.

I should probably also learn to obey all street signs:

(I'm pretty sure the fashion police will investigate me for the myriad of faux-pas' committed by this outfit. My sincerest apologies)

After Toronto, I trained back to Montreal for a couple of days. This was a poorly timed voyage as I was on a train full of those bound for Osheaga. These individuals were wasting no time. The train sold out of alcohol within the first two hours, music was blaring, and someone even brought out a vaporizer. The party-ville destined train got me to Montreal safely and while I didn't join them at Osheaga, I did find myself in a crowd of rowdy Torontonians at a soccer match. Now my Montreal-based family will likely be mortified here, but I may have spent the match singing and dancing with the TFC supporters. 

My last stop in my North American travels was Ottawa, for the wedding of Alex Podiluk and Stephanie Kenny. It was an incredible ceremony that I am so happy I was able to attend. I have no doubt they will make good on their promise to kick ass at life together.

Next stop: Ghana