Hi, friends! I'm sorry I haven't been posting entries over the past few weeks! I was battling the flu for a good week and a half earlier this month, then had my Master's comprehensive exams and a few other exams, and then my computer's harddisk sadly crashed over spring break this past week, taking with it some very lengthy reports I had written!
As a result, I'm frantically trying to catch up on school work that I lost, so I won't be posting another update for a good week or two. Thank you to everyone who has been SO supportive and checks this blog often! You're truly a huge encouragement to me! :) See you again in a few weeks with another update from Ghana!
With love,
Elaine
P.S. If you'd like me to let you know when I post the next entry, feel free to shoot me an email or Facebook message (or leave your email address in a comment here), and I'll send you a quick message when I start posting again. (=
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Onward, Ho!
After experiencing our first African rainstorm last night, we slept in ‘til 9 o’clock this morning and awoke to yet another palate-tickling breakfast of eggs, toast, fresh fruit, tea, coffee, and delightful conversation. We then paid a visit to the Special Education Division of Ghana’s Ministry of Education. It really is amazing, the breadth of work we’re gaining experience with here on our trip -- from cleft palate surgeries to educational policy.
Madame Rosemond Blay, the Director of Special Education, and Mr. Patrick Otaah, the division’s acting deputy, welcomed our group with open arms into their office, which was adorned with posters and plaques displaying motivational statements such as “A deaf person can do anything except hear” and “A teacher directs the hand, opens the mind, and touches the heart”.
Once situated, Cate explained to our hosts what it is we do with the medical and educational professionals we’ve been collaborating with while in Ghana, such as Belinda and Clement at the unit school in Kumasi. Cate shared with Madame Rosemond and Mr. Otaah her White Paper written about the special education system in Ghana, as well as the Teacher’s College article highlighting students’ work here last year. (Click links to read.) In turn, Madame Rosemond and Mr. Otaah shared information regarding the structure and current initiatives of the Special Education division, one of ten divisions under the Ministry of Education.
Great efforts have been taken to establish numerous residential schools throughout the country for students with special needs, including vocational schools where dedicated teachers train students in specialized trades. Such trades include carpentry, sewing, and pottery, among many others. In a country where students would remain in the public school system four 20 or 30 years without graduating, these vocational schools have highlighted the strengths of, given skills to, and graduated students to be contributing members in their communities. This has revolutionized the traditional views of persons with disabilities in the country in an immense way, prompting people to realize that people with disabilities are capable of learning, that they do have strengths which they can contribute to society. ‘Twas quite powerful!
Now, we sit aboard our "luxury" bus, making the 5-hour journey eastward to the village of Ho. As the golden sunset creates a glow behind the silhouettes of African trees on the lush green horizon, some of us catch up on sleep missed over the past week while others watch a Ghanaian film featuring cameos of our very own Cate Crowley and several of last year’s team from Columbia. Here in the back of the bus, we’re teaching our Ghanaian friend Nick how to speak with a Brooklyn accent and rap the intro from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Outside, countless villages of varying cultures zoom past our eyes, and their inhabitants wave excitedly at us as we pass. I could stare out this bus window for hours.
Madame Rosemond Blay, the Director of Special Education, and Mr. Patrick Otaah, the division’s acting deputy, welcomed our group with open arms into their office, which was adorned with posters and plaques displaying motivational statements such as “A deaf person can do anything except hear” and “A teacher directs the hand, opens the mind, and touches the heart”.
Once situated, Cate explained to our hosts what it is we do with the medical and educational professionals we’ve been collaborating with while in Ghana, such as Belinda and Clement at the unit school in Kumasi. Cate shared with Madame Rosemond and Mr. Otaah her White Paper written about the special education system in Ghana, as well as the Teacher’s College article highlighting students’ work here last year. (Click links to read.) In turn, Madame Rosemond and Mr. Otaah shared information regarding the structure and current initiatives of the Special Education division, one of ten divisions under the Ministry of Education.
Great efforts have been taken to establish numerous residential schools throughout the country for students with special needs, including vocational schools where dedicated teachers train students in specialized trades. Such trades include carpentry, sewing, and pottery, among many others. In a country where students would remain in the public school system four 20 or 30 years without graduating, these vocational schools have highlighted the strengths of, given skills to, and graduated students to be contributing members in their communities. This has revolutionized the traditional views of persons with disabilities in the country in an immense way, prompting people to realize that people with disabilities are capable of learning, that they do have strengths which they can contribute to society. ‘Twas quite powerful!
Now, we sit aboard our "luxury" bus, making the 5-hour journey eastward to the village of Ho. As the golden sunset creates a glow behind the silhouettes of African trees on the lush green horizon, some of us catch up on sleep missed over the past week while others watch a Ghanaian film featuring cameos of our very own Cate Crowley and several of last year’s team from Columbia. Here in the back of the bus, we’re teaching our Ghanaian friend Nick how to speak with a Brooklyn accent and rap the intro from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Outside, countless villages of varying cultures zoom past our eyes, and their inhabitants wave excitedly at us as we pass. I could stare out this bus window for hours.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Cleft palate surgery
Today was an especially exciting day. We started it off with an extravagant breakfast of fresh fruit, eggs, and toast, compliments of our hotel for the inconveniences of the previous night and early this morning. We arrived at Korle Bu Hospital at 9am once again, but this time headed to the Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery unit across from the ENT unit. As speech -language pathologists, we rarely see the actual surgical processes for cleft palate, even though we study the surgical procedures thoroughly in classes and textbooks. This is because SLP’s role takes place primarily with pre-operative recommendations and post-operative recommendations and therapy.
Today, however, we would be in the O.R. -- not an observation gallery! -- to closely watch every incision and suture of several cleft palate surgeries, mere inches from our very eyes!
We were briefed on the day’s surgeries and headed to see a few speech/language clients. As with the past two days at Korle Bu, the cases were extremely interesting, and it is amazing every time we see tears well up in a parent’s eyes, or even a parent’s excitement to implement recommendations we give to them at the end of the appointment. These cases are always the most promising, as our short stay in Ghana is useless if the training we provide and the techniques we share are not carried on by parents and local health care providers after our departure. Sustainability is key!
Now for the juicy stuff.
** Warning: surgery pictures coming up!**
At approximately 1pm, we headed back to the Plastic Surgery unit, stripped down to our bras and panties, then donned scrubs, scrub caps, sterile crocs, and masks in preparation for the surgery. We snapped a mandatory photograph,
then headed into the O.R. (or, as they call it at Korle Bu, the “surgical theatre”). With my nose mere inches from the patient’s bloody open mouth, I stood captivated, holding my breath as the surgeon swiftly and deliberately snipped, pulled, stretched, and sutured within the oral cavity. Dear Lord, was it amazing!!
Of one patient, I was able to snap a photo before
and after.
Then, I got a few “during” photos of another patient.
A-may-zinggg. We left the last surgery early to grab our regular 4pm lunch/dinner at Korle Bu, and we were able to try fufu, the traditional Ghanian dish we’d been hearing so much about. I was neither impressed nor disgusted. Rather, it tasted to me like rice mochi in a tomato-ey soup! What did impress me, though, was watching George eat fufu with his hands, using his finger to mash the fufu, his thumb to create a depression in the middle of the mass to hold the soup (not unlike the “volcano” style of serving mashed potatoes and gravy back home), and bringing it to his mouth and devouring it with such class. It is definitely a mastered African art!
After our meal, we visited the Artists Alliance, an exhibition of countless of talented Ghanaian artists’ work. I was most awestruck by the impressionist paintings by Ablade Glover that were displayed and sold for thousands of cedis. Several of the girls purchased small items such as cards, beads, textiles, and accessories before we headed back to Unique Palace to repose.
Danielle and I lingered by the pool earlier this evening, trying to catch a WiFi signal in order to publish her post to our team blog, and we noticed the ever so miniscule drops of rain that disturbed the pool’s glassy surface every few minutes. We worked to edit the blog over the snail-speed connection, when suddenly we heard a muffled rumbling, steady and muted. As we exchanged quizzical looks, the rumbling grew progressively louder, and quite rapidly, too. ‘Twas a matter of seconds, and it sounded as if a train were approaching us. “Run!” we shrieked simultaneously, and even as we darted the short 50 feet across the courtyard, we became drenched in the sudden monsoon-like rain. Never before had I witnessed such a sudden and isolated rainfall. It was almost as if there was an isolated storm cloud, being blown 40 miles per hour across the West African sky!
And so we’ve experienced our first sub-Saharan rainstorm, ephemeral as it was. ‘Twas yet another amazing day in Ghana, a country that is undoubtedly building itself a special place in my heart. Good night, world!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Dominic
One of the clients we saw at Korle Bu Hospital today was Dominic, an 8 year old male who presented with reading and writing difficulties. According to his aunt’s report, Dominic has been held back in school for three consecutive years due to delayed reading and writing skills. He appeared to be shy and reserved at the time of the assessment, as evidenced by lack of eye contact and quiet demeanor. However, Dominic’s aunt reported oral language skills to be age appropriate.
Toward the beginning of the session while the parent interview was being conducted, we attempted to establish rapport by using a wordless picture book to elicit oral language from Dominic. We pointed to the illustrations and asked Dominic the question, “What do you see here?” which was followed by an accurate response of “man.” Then, we asked him, “What is the monkey doing?” which was following by the correct answer of “taking keys.” It was unclear whether Dominic’s limited oral language production was due to delayed language skills, shyness, or a combination of the factors.
When asked to verbally identify written letters of the alphabet (i.e. C-A-T), Dominic was hesitant and only produced the names of the letters in imitation of our models. We used crayons and pieces of paper to create alphabet flash cards, and laid the cards “C”, “A” and “T” on the table in front of Dominic. With maximal modeling and repetition in a rhythmic pattern, Dominic was able to spell the word (e.g. C-A-T) and imitate the individual letters sounds (e.g. “kuh” – “ah” – “tuh”) approximately 20 times, as we used the hand over hand method to guide Dominic’s finger to tap each corresponding card.
To further facilitate phonological awareness and knowledge of letter-to-sound correspondence, we laid the cards for a rhyming cognate of “cat” (i.e. “bat”) in front of Dominic and repeated the process. Dominic demonstrated stimulability for this learning method and we invited his father to practice the method with his hand over Dominic’s. After practicing the method with both Dominic and his father, we as clinicians discussed ways to incorporate this activity into Dominic’s daily routine. His father enthusiastically stated, “I will make it my work to teach him these skills.” Letters of the alphabet on separate index cards were given to the father along with a demonstration of how simple it is to make these materials at home.
As Dominic and his family parted ways with the clinicians, both parties felt confident that the methods and recommendations introduced in the session would be implemented and continued at home to facilitate Dominic’s acquisition of literacy skills. The information and methods introduced during the session were also shared with Albert, Korle Bu Hospital’s speech-language pathologist, to support sustainability. Over all, Dominic demonstrated great potential for learning, and with practice and steady progress at home, Dominic can hopefully move forward in the academic setting, as well.
After our work at Korle Bu, we enjoyed a late buffet-style lunch on the hospital grounds and headed to the vibrant and culture-rich marketplace of Accra. It’s a sure tourist trap, where we are prime targets for eager vendors, simply because of the color of our skin. Here in Ghana, a popular (and apparently socially acceptable) way of addressing me is “my sister from China”, or simply “China”. Love it.
Lisa and I kept one hand on our money pouches as we snaked our way through the kiosks of locals selling jewelry, paintings, woodwork, and much more. While Lisa unleashed herself upon the plethora of bead necklaces, I made a beeline at each stall for the earrings and bracelets, picking up a few to bring home to the lovely ladies in my life!
Before heading back to the bus, I picked up a set of wooden elephant, rhinoceros, and swordfish ornaments, hoping that inspiration will strike when I get home and I can work them into a craft project of some sort!
With a mere hour allotted to shop, we headed back toward the bus, but not without being bombarded by vendors galore, hands full of items – mancala games, goat skin drums, African masks, etc. They called to us through our bus windows, lowering their prices as we insisted “no, not interested”. There was a point – not sure when – when their prices dropped so low that our attention was caught, and thus began a twenty minute session of shopping through our bus windows! It was quite a fun experience, and it was then that we realized we should’ve never de-boarded our bus in the first place!
As our bus pulled out of the marketplace, we sat in our seats, surrounded by more Ghanaian goods than we had bargained for, and headed for the residence of Dr. and Mrs. Ofosu-Amaah. Thanks to Brooke, we were given the opportunity to meet the retired chairman of the board at Korle Bu Hospital, and he and his wife graciously invited us into the sitting room of their home.
It was interesting to get the perspective of Ghanaians of a different socio-economic status than other Ghanaians we had met previously, in the fishing village, for example.
During our visit, we asked questions about Ghanaian culture and Dr. and Mrs. Ofosu-Amaah shared their life experiences and current views on education and healthcare issues in Ghana. It was enlightening to have a conversation with two cultured, intelligent, and highly-respected individuals who have accomplished great things in Ghana and abroad!
Upon our departure, we presented them with a basket of fruit and baked goods, as a token of our appreciation, and headed to our new hotel, the Unique Palace, where we were the very first patrons. This might sound like a delight, but as the Unique Palace had pushed its grand opening forward a week to accommodate us, we encountered problems such as unfinished plumbing, heater tanks that “exploded”, and drains that were still sealed with plastic wrap. Oh, this African adventure gets more and more interesting by the day!
We held class in the pool tonight among the Vegas-style light-up palm trees (the epitome of luxury here in Ghana), but adjourned early on account of the mosquito swarm that came to feast upon us. My roomie, Cassie, and I chatter into the evening as we type up our journal entries. We pause intermittently to pile our things onto the various articles of furniture around our room, because the tank of our toilet is steadily leaking water (clean, thankfully!) into our bedroom. All part of the experience, my dear.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
First day of work!
The fourteen of us sit here in the Yegoala Hotel’s dark and empty restaurant, tuned to the local news station, in hopes of catching the brief news segment on our work here in Accra. The station, TV3, sent a reporter and camera crew to Korle Bu Teaching Hospital today to spread the word about services being offered for individuals with special speech and language needs, and to raise awareness regarding the learning and functioning potential of children and adults who have disabilities.
We arrived at the very modest ENT (ear, nose, and throat) “wing” of the Korle Bu Teaching Hospital early this morning to meet Albert, who is one of the two speech-language pathologists in all of Ghana. He is an elderly man in his 70s, with eyes that smile through is rimmed spectacles, and although he retired ten years previously, he has been working through his retirement because there is such a shortage of SLP services in Ghana. Albert travels weekly between Accra and Kumasi, a five-to-six hour drive, so that he is able to provide services at both hospitals, Korle Bu and Komfo Anokye. His dedication to the people of Ghana is so inspiring, and it’s truly an honor to collaborate with him.
After walking through formalities and snapping a group photo, our team was divided into small groups, ours supervised by Dorothy. We assessed and provided recommendations for a number of clients, mostly children whose parents’ concern ranged from lack of spoken words to disturbing behaviors to illiteracy. We also evaluated several adults with various disorders. It really took us a half an hour or so to get our feet on solid ground, working out the kinks of assigning roles, covering assessment bases, and working with translators when necessary. Each evaluation began with an interview to assess main concerns of the parents or the patient himself, which was followed by clinician interaction with the patient to determine age-appropriate skills that were or were not present. As clinicians, we discussed sustainable strategies and treatment, then shared our recommendations with the parent, modeling the various activities and techniques with the child.
Our first client of the day was 4 year-old Kalib, who presented with speech characterized by jargon, rote language, and decreased social intent. Though his creche (preschool) teacher expressed no concerns, Kalib’s mother described him as “always wandering, never interacting with other children, and always placing items in his mouth.” Kalib regularly followed simple directions such as “close the door” and “get the big cup”, but did not respond to “who” or “where” questions, make eye contact with people speaking to him, or use language to request objects or actions -- all skills that should be well established in typically developing children; also all typical characteristics of children with autism.
We came up with various therapy techniques to stimulate and encourage language, all simple and low-tech so that they could be carried out by Kalib’s family members at home and in their everyday environment. Kalib’s mother was incredibly receptive and grateful for our suggestions, and expressed that she believed these approaches would be motivating and fruitful for Kalib. Additionally, we provided her with flashcards (easily replicated in case of loss, as we had created them during the session with markers and cardstock) so that she could use AAC (augmentative alternative communication) to facilitate Kalib’s language development.
After a rewarding first day of seeing patients, we were taken by George to a local fabric market where we could select fabrics, and have tailor-made outfits customized for us. What was most exciting was browsing the selection with Miriam, one of our clinical supervisors, who is choosing a fabric for her wedding gown!
As for myself, I selected a gorgeous mustard-yellow and white floral swirl print, what I’d like to call “Anthropologie-meets-Africa”, for a flowy skirt. It was a quite a bit more than I’d hope to spend on fabric, but the purchase was justified by the fact that I’ll probably never again have the chance to have a custom-made skirt from Ghana, right?
The seamstress is here taking our orders and measurements, while we watch ourselves on national television. Unreal. This is a huge thing for speech/language pathology in Ghana! As for us, we’re quite a silly bunch, with our cameras in hand, snapping photos of the screen. :)
11:34 pm
So as I showered tonight, one hand holding the spout above my head and the other hand lathering shampoo into my hair (normal), the water pressure gradually decreased until there was only a trickle slowly dripping from the spout (not normal). I finished off my “shower” with bottled water, and joined my team to find that our entire hotel is waterless. Quite the predicament. Cate has made the executive decision – we’re switching hotels in the morning. Farewell, Yegoala!
We arrived at the very modest ENT (ear, nose, and throat) “wing” of the Korle Bu Teaching Hospital early this morning to meet Albert, who is one of the two speech-language pathologists in all of Ghana. He is an elderly man in his 70s, with eyes that smile through is rimmed spectacles, and although he retired ten years previously, he has been working through his retirement because there is such a shortage of SLP services in Ghana. Albert travels weekly between Accra and Kumasi, a five-to-six hour drive, so that he is able to provide services at both hospitals, Korle Bu and Komfo Anokye. His dedication to the people of Ghana is so inspiring, and it’s truly an honor to collaborate with him.
After walking through formalities and snapping a group photo, our team was divided into small groups, ours supervised by Dorothy. We assessed and provided recommendations for a number of clients, mostly children whose parents’ concern ranged from lack of spoken words to disturbing behaviors to illiteracy. We also evaluated several adults with various disorders. It really took us a half an hour or so to get our feet on solid ground, working out the kinks of assigning roles, covering assessment bases, and working with translators when necessary. Each evaluation began with an interview to assess main concerns of the parents or the patient himself, which was followed by clinician interaction with the patient to determine age-appropriate skills that were or were not present. As clinicians, we discussed sustainable strategies and treatment, then shared our recommendations with the parent, modeling the various activities and techniques with the child.
Our first client of the day was 4 year-old Kalib, who presented with speech characterized by jargon, rote language, and decreased social intent. Though his creche (preschool) teacher expressed no concerns, Kalib’s mother described him as “always wandering, never interacting with other children, and always placing items in his mouth.” Kalib regularly followed simple directions such as “close the door” and “get the big cup”, but did not respond to “who” or “where” questions, make eye contact with people speaking to him, or use language to request objects or actions -- all skills that should be well established in typically developing children; also all typical characteristics of children with autism.
We came up with various therapy techniques to stimulate and encourage language, all simple and low-tech so that they could be carried out by Kalib’s family members at home and in their everyday environment. Kalib’s mother was incredibly receptive and grateful for our suggestions, and expressed that she believed these approaches would be motivating and fruitful for Kalib. Additionally, we provided her with flashcards (easily replicated in case of loss, as we had created them during the session with markers and cardstock) so that she could use AAC (augmentative alternative communication) to facilitate Kalib’s language development.
After a rewarding first day of seeing patients, we were taken by George to a local fabric market where we could select fabrics, and have tailor-made outfits customized for us. What was most exciting was browsing the selection with Miriam, one of our clinical supervisors, who is choosing a fabric for her wedding gown!
As for myself, I selected a gorgeous mustard-yellow and white floral swirl print, what I’d like to call “Anthropologie-meets-Africa”, for a flowy skirt. It was a quite a bit more than I’d hope to spend on fabric, but the purchase was justified by the fact that I’ll probably never again have the chance to have a custom-made skirt from Ghana, right?
The seamstress is here taking our orders and measurements, while we watch ourselves on national television. Unreal. This is a huge thing for speech/language pathology in Ghana! As for us, we’re quite a silly bunch, with our cameras in hand, snapping photos of the screen. :)
11:34 pm
So as I showered tonight, one hand holding the spout above my head and the other hand lathering shampoo into my hair (normal), the water pressure gradually decreased until there was only a trickle slowly dripping from the spout (not normal). I finished off my “shower” with bottled water, and joined my team to find that our entire hotel is waterless. Quite the predicament. Cate has made the executive decision – we’re switching hotels in the morning. Farewell, Yegoala!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Coconut Grove fishing village
We enjoyed yet another delicious oceanside buffet breakfast at the African Village, complete with omelets, fresh white pineapple, grapefruit juice, and pastries. We boarded our bus and drove one quarter of a mile to the fishing village.
My, it is simply indescribable, the stark contrast that we saw between the fishing village and the hotel we had just come from, separated by mere steps. While our hotel was fully equipped with air conditioning, plumbing and running water, electricity, and even WiFi internet, the families in the fishing village lived without any of these things. Here is their bathroom and toilet:
a hole in the ground that drains to the sea. To shower, they carry buckets of water from another source. It was truly humbling to see that a family and a village was nearly self-sustaining, having none of the things that we so “need” in our own world.
What truly amazed me were the techniques that the village folk had engineered to build their homes, net fish in the ocean, and preserve the fish caught – the essence of their livelihood.
In the initial steps of home construction, pillars are placed in holes dug two-feet deep, and are joined by a network of straight branches, which serve as the foundation for the walls. The spaces in between the branches are filled with a mixture of mud, rocks, and occasionally shells to create a barrier between the inhabitants and the outside elements. The roof, which was what I personally found most impressive, is made of grasses found nearby, and if well constructed, can keep out rain and water for over ten years!
The villagers use nets to catch fish, some well over 100 ft long and carried by 15 men. The women are in charge of the net after the catch – picking out and cleaning the fish in preparation for preservation.
The fish are laid in a single layer upon a wire mesh within a wooden frame, and up to ten of these racks are stacked above a hearth fire with coconut husk and sugar cane for kindle. This drying process is alternated twice with a smoking process, each step of which can take thirty minutes to twenty hours. Once dried and smoked twice, the fish have been preserved and are ready for storage of up to six months without worries of spoilage.
As Linus walked us through his village, sharing with us the routines of his people’s lives, we were surrounded by a dozen village children who were eager to genuinely befriend us.
They asked of us our names, took our hands, and wrapped their arms around our bodies as we listened to Linus’s stories. Even as my body sweated against the children’s in the hot midday sun, and as they ran their fingers through my long alien hair (for hygiene reasons, women rarely grow out their hair) and touched my foreign jewelry with scrupulous inspection, I felt profusely grateful for the intensity of their generous and immediately genuine love. It was love the way I imagine Jesus giving it, no questions asked.
We shared a morning, immersed in the life of the village, and a few of the mothers taught us how to carry a baby on our backs with just a piece of cloth, while others found delight in our struggle with balancing objects on our heads, a truly natural African talent.
After this incredible exchange of smiles and cultures, we bid our new friends goodbye and headed to the Kakum National Park canopy bridges. We doused ourselves in mosquito repellent before taking the walk into the jungle, to the soundtrack of exotic birds and critters, and protected from the sun by the canopy of leaves up above. Today was a national holiday in Ghana, and as no one was at work or school, the masses flocked to Kakum, just as we had.
We had not planned for this, and as we stood en queue amongst a highly energized crowd, waiting to teeter across the 150-foot high bridge, we became admittedly nervous, and questioned our desires to actually cross the bridge. We waited. And waited and waited. Then, we waited some more. Finally, it came our turn to cross the bridge (thankfully only five at a time!), and my heart was racing the entire time!
I had not even the nerve to take my hands from the hand-ropes to snap a few pictures, so these are ones I stole from Cassie and Christina!
We crossed a succession of three rope bridges, and by the time we stepped back onto solid ground, my legs had become jelly. What an adventure! With hungry stomachs, we hiked out of the jungle at nearly five o’clock in the afternoon.
We enjoyed our swamp-side lunch in the company of crocodiles almost as hungry as we were, and soon night had fallen upon us.
Now, it’s a quiet and pensive ride back to the capital city of Accra on our bumpy little bus. We smell of mosquito repellent and fish, and are excited to shower and retire for the night, resting up for our first day of work tomorrow at Korle-Bu Hospital! Exciting!
My, it is simply indescribable, the stark contrast that we saw between the fishing village and the hotel we had just come from, separated by mere steps. While our hotel was fully equipped with air conditioning, plumbing and running water, electricity, and even WiFi internet, the families in the fishing village lived without any of these things. Here is their bathroom and toilet:
a hole in the ground that drains to the sea. To shower, they carry buckets of water from another source. It was truly humbling to see that a family and a village was nearly self-sustaining, having none of the things that we so “need” in our own world.
What truly amazed me were the techniques that the village folk had engineered to build their homes, net fish in the ocean, and preserve the fish caught – the essence of their livelihood.
In the initial steps of home construction, pillars are placed in holes dug two-feet deep, and are joined by a network of straight branches, which serve as the foundation for the walls. The spaces in between the branches are filled with a mixture of mud, rocks, and occasionally shells to create a barrier between the inhabitants and the outside elements. The roof, which was what I personally found most impressive, is made of grasses found nearby, and if well constructed, can keep out rain and water for over ten years!
The villagers use nets to catch fish, some well over 100 ft long and carried by 15 men. The women are in charge of the net after the catch – picking out and cleaning the fish in preparation for preservation.
The fish are laid in a single layer upon a wire mesh within a wooden frame, and up to ten of these racks are stacked above a hearth fire with coconut husk and sugar cane for kindle. This drying process is alternated twice with a smoking process, each step of which can take thirty minutes to twenty hours. Once dried and smoked twice, the fish have been preserved and are ready for storage of up to six months without worries of spoilage.
As Linus walked us through his village, sharing with us the routines of his people’s lives, we were surrounded by a dozen village children who were eager to genuinely befriend us.
They asked of us our names, took our hands, and wrapped their arms around our bodies as we listened to Linus’s stories. Even as my body sweated against the children’s in the hot midday sun, and as they ran their fingers through my long alien hair (for hygiene reasons, women rarely grow out their hair) and touched my foreign jewelry with scrupulous inspection, I felt profusely grateful for the intensity of their generous and immediately genuine love. It was love the way I imagine Jesus giving it, no questions asked.
We shared a morning, immersed in the life of the village, and a few of the mothers taught us how to carry a baby on our backs with just a piece of cloth, while others found delight in our struggle with balancing objects on our heads, a truly natural African talent.
After this incredible exchange of smiles and cultures, we bid our new friends goodbye and headed to the Kakum National Park canopy bridges. We doused ourselves in mosquito repellent before taking the walk into the jungle, to the soundtrack of exotic birds and critters, and protected from the sun by the canopy of leaves up above. Today was a national holiday in Ghana, and as no one was at work or school, the masses flocked to Kakum, just as we had.
We had not planned for this, and as we stood en queue amongst a highly energized crowd, waiting to teeter across the 150-foot high bridge, we became admittedly nervous, and questioned our desires to actually cross the bridge. We waited. And waited and waited. Then, we waited some more. Finally, it came our turn to cross the bridge (thankfully only five at a time!), and my heart was racing the entire time!
I had not even the nerve to take my hands from the hand-ropes to snap a few pictures, so these are ones I stole from Cassie and Christina!
We crossed a succession of three rope bridges, and by the time we stepped back onto solid ground, my legs had become jelly. What an adventure! With hungry stomachs, we hiked out of the jungle at nearly five o’clock in the afternoon.
We enjoyed our swamp-side lunch in the company of crocodiles almost as hungry as we were, and soon night had fallen upon us.
Now, it’s a quiet and pensive ride back to the capital city of Accra on our bumpy little bus. We smell of mosquito repellent and fish, and are excited to shower and retire for the night, resting up for our first day of work tomorrow at Korle-Bu Hospital! Exciting!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Elmina slave forts
We enjoyed a pretty luxurious buffet breakfast this morning at the African Village (“luxurious” in terms of what I had been expecting in Africa) with sweet white pineapple, red pepper and onion omelets, beans, and biscuits. Driving into town, we passed by huts of wooden panels and mud, displaying rack after rack of silver fish outside, glistening in the mid-morning sun.
My favorite was this giraffe building, which I luckily snapped a photo of through the window of our speeding bus!
We arrived in town in time to participate in Sunday service at Bethel Methodist Chapel,
where the joyously dancing members were clothed in garb of various styles, all created from the same fabric – the print read “Bethel Methodist Church, 170 years”. Amazing. I love that worship in Ghana involves a full-body experience, after which members sit and dab sweat from their foreheads with their handkerchiefs as the sermon commences.
The pastor delivered the message in Fante, and worn leather hymnals were thrust into our hands as the choir welcomed us to join them in worship. Those of us who believed in Jesus Christ as our savior were invited to take communion with the members of the church, which was an awakening experience.
It’s so different when it’s done in a language you don’t understand, and yet the motions and significance of it all remain the same. It makes me wonder how service and communion will be in Beijing, in a language I do understand, but not for the Christian vocabulary.
We did not stay for the entire service, as African church services can last as long as six hours. (Can you imagine? I love Jesus and all, but I think six continuous hours of sermons, worship and prayer would give my noggin quite the workout!)
We headed to the slave castle at El Mina, built by the Dutch in 1471 and later occupied by the Portuguese. The name “El Mina” is actually an African distortion of Portuguese "al mina" -- "to the mine".
As with the slave fort at Cape Coast yesterday, being present in a place where so much brutality and dehumanization had taken place merely 200 years previously was… I don’t know. There aren’t any words. It’s as if gravity is gradually altered, pulling your heart lower and lower in your body, until it feels as if it weighs a hundred pounds. Tears simply don’t come, because you’re feeling so much that you can’t feel any more.
What’s even more atrocious than the conditions is the fact that the governor would reside in luxury in the quarters directly above the slave dungeons. Church services would be held in the chapel on site, also directly above the dungeons where humans suffered, standing six inches deep in their own urine and feces, without an inch to move, without food or ventilation. Inconceivable.
At both slave forts, a marble plaque is inlaid, reading:
In light of it all, we chose to celebrate African culture this evening with a performance by African drummers and dancers. It was quite the experience, not unlike Polynesian dancing, with war faces and isolated muscle movements in every part of the body.
I must say that all of us from Columbia could now effectively and believably put on an African drumming and dancing performance ourselves, after an evening of rigorous instruction from the Ghanaian performers that evening. ;) Who needs a gym?
My favorite was this giraffe building, which I luckily snapped a photo of through the window of our speeding bus!
We arrived in town in time to participate in Sunday service at Bethel Methodist Chapel,
where the joyously dancing members were clothed in garb of various styles, all created from the same fabric – the print read “Bethel Methodist Church, 170 years”. Amazing. I love that worship in Ghana involves a full-body experience, after which members sit and dab sweat from their foreheads with their handkerchiefs as the sermon commences.
The pastor delivered the message in Fante, and worn leather hymnals were thrust into our hands as the choir welcomed us to join them in worship. Those of us who believed in Jesus Christ as our savior were invited to take communion with the members of the church, which was an awakening experience.
It’s so different when it’s done in a language you don’t understand, and yet the motions and significance of it all remain the same. It makes me wonder how service and communion will be in Beijing, in a language I do understand, but not for the Christian vocabulary.
We did not stay for the entire service, as African church services can last as long as six hours. (Can you imagine? I love Jesus and all, but I think six continuous hours of sermons, worship and prayer would give my noggin quite the workout!)
We headed to the slave castle at El Mina, built by the Dutch in 1471 and later occupied by the Portuguese. The name “El Mina” is actually an African distortion of Portuguese "al mina" -- "to the mine".
As with the slave fort at Cape Coast yesterday, being present in a place where so much brutality and dehumanization had taken place merely 200 years previously was… I don’t know. There aren’t any words. It’s as if gravity is gradually altered, pulling your heart lower and lower in your body, until it feels as if it weighs a hundred pounds. Tears simply don’t come, because you’re feeling so much that you can’t feel any more.
What’s even more atrocious than the conditions is the fact that the governor would reside in luxury in the quarters directly above the slave dungeons. Church services would be held in the chapel on site, also directly above the dungeons where humans suffered, standing six inches deep in their own urine and feces, without an inch to move, without food or ventilation. Inconceivable.
At both slave forts, a marble plaque is inlaid, reading:
In everlasting memory of the anguish of our ancestors.
May those who died rest in peace.
May those who return find their roots.
May humanity never again perpetrate
such injustice against humanity.
We, the living, vow to uphold this.
In light of it all, we chose to celebrate African culture this evening with a performance by African drummers and dancers. It was quite the experience, not unlike Polynesian dancing, with war faces and isolated muscle movements in every part of the body.
I must say that all of us from Columbia could now effectively and believably put on an African drumming and dancing performance ourselves, after an evening of rigorous instruction from the Ghanaian performers that evening. ;) Who needs a gym?
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Cape Coast
I awoke this morning to this gorgeous view from my room:
One thing that you should know about restaurant table service in Ghana is that it is incredibly slow in comparison to service in the States. Our plan was to have breakfast at 9:30am and be on the bus bound for Cape Coast by 10:30am. Instead, we were seated at 9:30, waited patiently for our bread, eggs, and juice (standard breakfast here), and left Accra by 12:30pm.
En route to Cape Coast, our wonderful guide, George, shared with us a history of the 52 Ghanaian tribes, their languages and dialects, and rituals for birth, courtship, and death.
When a Ghanaian child is born, he or she is not given a name until the eighth day. At this time, a name is selected, so significant and so meaningful that any true Ghanian is able to identify and locate the address of another Ghanian whom he has just met, simply by learning his name. Also included in a name is an indicator of the day of week on which the child was born. For example, as I was born on a Tuesday, my name would include Abenaa.
Courtship in the Ghanian culture is traditionally polygamous. When a man has chosen a woman whom he desires to be his wife, he approaches the woman’s family with a bottle of Schnapps and a Bible. In return, his future wife’s family gives him a dowry along with their daughter. Vows exchanged in marriage do not include fidelity, as it was traditionally acceptable for a man with a wife to pursue another woman who has caught his eye. Hm.
As we headed on along the dusty road to Cape Coast, we also were able to see Liberian refugee camps, where many Liberians chose to stay after the end of the civil war (only two years ago) and make a life.
Slave Forts
Although we had been forewarned, the experience at Cape Coast Castle, where captives were held in dungeons before they were sold for labor to European traders, was indescribably sobering.
We entered the male slave dungeons, unlit and damp with stale air. Lights that had been hung for safe treading were turned off once the dungeon door was closed behind us, and the twenty-five of us felt cramped and a bit too close for comfort in this room, which trapped over one hundred black men at a time, less than two centuries prior.
As the lights were turned back on, our guide, Matilda, pointed out to us markings that had been scratched into the dungeon wall to indicate the level of human feces in which the captives stood. The markings were well over twelve inches from the floor.
Matilda led us through various other dungeons in unimaginable conditions, and we arrived at the Door of No Return. Ironic was the view from the threshold of this door, as it was a beautiful sight to behold, and yet such an atrocious life lay ahead of those who gazed out at this view, years before we did today.
Because meal preparation in Ghana is so... well, slow, we placed our orders at the restaurant before embarking on our 3-hour tour of the slave forts. Even so, after we arrived, we waited at least 20 to 30 minutes for the dishes to arrive at our table. 'Tis baffling, as the meals aren't exactly what you’d call elaborate. I ordered Red-Red with chicken, which is essentially seasoned black-eyed peas with fried plantains (yum!) and chicken.
With satiated appetites, we reboarded our funny little bus, but not before being bombarded by vendors selling shells, bracelets, and snacks. Despite our polite refusals, the men of Ghana are quite persistent. Jackie even received a gift from an enamored admirer -- a shell with a romantic message scribbled across the top: "Jackie. I ♥ U baby. Be with me." followed by his name, email address, physical address, and phone number.
Boy, is Matt lucky that I didn’t receive this shell. With poetry like that, how could a girl not be instantly wooed?
With gifts from many suitors, we journeyed on to Elmina,
a beautiful village on the beach. Tonight, we stay at Coconut Grove African Village, under the stars and to the soundtrack of the crashing waves along the coast.
One thing that you should know about restaurant table service in Ghana is that it is incredibly slow in comparison to service in the States. Our plan was to have breakfast at 9:30am and be on the bus bound for Cape Coast by 10:30am. Instead, we were seated at 9:30, waited patiently for our bread, eggs, and juice (standard breakfast here), and left Accra by 12:30pm.
En route to Cape Coast, our wonderful guide, George, shared with us a history of the 52 Ghanaian tribes, their languages and dialects, and rituals for birth, courtship, and death.
When a Ghanaian child is born, he or she is not given a name until the eighth day. At this time, a name is selected, so significant and so meaningful that any true Ghanian is able to identify and locate the address of another Ghanian whom he has just met, simply by learning his name. Also included in a name is an indicator of the day of week on which the child was born. For example, as I was born on a Tuesday, my name would include Abenaa.
Courtship in the Ghanian culture is traditionally polygamous. When a man has chosen a woman whom he desires to be his wife, he approaches the woman’s family with a bottle of Schnapps and a Bible. In return, his future wife’s family gives him a dowry along with their daughter. Vows exchanged in marriage do not include fidelity, as it was traditionally acceptable for a man with a wife to pursue another woman who has caught his eye. Hm.
As we headed on along the dusty road to Cape Coast, we also were able to see Liberian refugee camps, where many Liberians chose to stay after the end of the civil war (only two years ago) and make a life.
Slave Forts
Although we had been forewarned, the experience at Cape Coast Castle, where captives were held in dungeons before they were sold for labor to European traders, was indescribably sobering.
We entered the male slave dungeons, unlit and damp with stale air. Lights that had been hung for safe treading were turned off once the dungeon door was closed behind us, and the twenty-five of us felt cramped and a bit too close for comfort in this room, which trapped over one hundred black men at a time, less than two centuries prior.
As the lights were turned back on, our guide, Matilda, pointed out to us markings that had been scratched into the dungeon wall to indicate the level of human feces in which the captives stood. The markings were well over twelve inches from the floor.
Matilda led us through various other dungeons in unimaginable conditions, and we arrived at the Door of No Return. Ironic was the view from the threshold of this door, as it was a beautiful sight to behold, and yet such an atrocious life lay ahead of those who gazed out at this view, years before we did today.
Because meal preparation in Ghana is so... well, slow, we placed our orders at the restaurant before embarking on our 3-hour tour of the slave forts. Even so, after we arrived, we waited at least 20 to 30 minutes for the dishes to arrive at our table. 'Tis baffling, as the meals aren't exactly what you’d call elaborate. I ordered Red-Red with chicken, which is essentially seasoned black-eyed peas with fried plantains (yum!) and chicken.
With satiated appetites, we reboarded our funny little bus, but not before being bombarded by vendors selling shells, bracelets, and snacks. Despite our polite refusals, the men of Ghana are quite persistent. Jackie even received a gift from an enamored admirer -- a shell with a romantic message scribbled across the top: "Jackie. I ♥ U baby. Be with me." followed by his name, email address, physical address, and phone number.
Boy, is Matt lucky that I didn’t receive this shell. With poetry like that, how could a girl not be instantly wooed?
With gifts from many suitors, we journeyed on to Elmina,
a beautiful village on the beach. Tonight, we stay at Coconut Grove African Village, under the stars and to the soundtrack of the crashing waves along the coast.
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