All in the Family

Tuesday June 29th 2010

When I stop and think about how much my life in Ghana has changed since my arrival, I can’t help but feel really happy. I, like many of the other JFs I’ve spoken to, feel like I’ve finally found my niche in Hohoe. It’s inevitable to feel like an anomaly when you’re first exposed to a new culture and a new way of life, but I think one of the most rewarding aspects of the JF program is being able to surpass that, to feel like you belong, and to ultimately recognize the importance of understanding the realities of those we work for if we hope to be effective development workers.

When I first moved into my compound home in Hohoe, I felt quite out of place. Everyone was watching my every move. Women would talk amongst themselves as I attempted to wash my clothes, and eventually would come over to show me how it was properly done. If I gave even the slightest indication that I was about to start cooking, the kids would rush into my room, grab my charcoal stove, matches, and fan and begin setting everything up. These are kids, all under the age of 10, telling me I didn’t know what I was doing and that I should watch how it was done. On top of these theatrics, women would periodically come and check my cooking to make sure I knew what I was doing– turns out, most times I didn’t. I often felt like I had reverted back to a former childhood state whereby I had to be taught absolutely everything all over again.

There were many occasions where I had to bite my tongue to refrain from saying “I know what I’m doing; I’m not incompetent at taking care of myself. If you just gave me two seconds to prove it, you’d see what I mean.” Thankfully I never actually blurted this out, and instead mustered up as much patience as possible when other people interjected their methods into my life.

Now, I’m happy to say things have changed. I feel like I have a place to come home to after work where my presence is truly appreciated. The kids call me Sister Erin as opposed to Yevo. We play games together and read books on dinosaurs and the Titanic. I feel like I’ve grown into my role as their older sister– when the kids are being too loud or disruptive, I tell them to quiet down like their mothers do. When someone starts crying and their mother is absent, I try my best to remedy their situation. Granted, I still feel like I have a long way to go before fully gaining the trust of everyone in this giant multi-family household, but I can tell now that I’ve taken steps in the right direction.

The only girl my age in the compound, Zina, helped me immensely in making the transition from outsider to insider. She immediately took me under her wing, and has proven indispensible on many diverse topics, such as how to dance in an Evangelical church, where to buy a cooking pot for GHC5, and how to walk past the washing bay without having Ghanaian boys disturb you. Finding simple topics to bond over with Zina and her family instantly took me from feeling like a science experiment, to feeling like a long lost friend.

When I first arrived, my coach gave me a great piece of advice: Act like you belong, and eventually you will. If you’re someone who will find yourself immersed in a new culture in the future, my advice to you is to re-read that line and commit it to memory.

In general people will treat you like you don’t belong until you give them reasonable evidence to the contrary. This isn’t to say that people will be unpleasant to you– Ghanaians are among the most welcoming and selfless people I’ve ever met. But, if you don’t show genuine interest in building real relationships with those you meet, you’ll never advance past the visitor barrier and won’t truly feel a sense of belonging. Purposefully investing your time in the lives of your family members goes a really, really long way towards getting you comfortable with your surroundings, building honest, trusting relationships, and letting those around you see who you are and what you value.

If one thing is certain, it’s that coming to Africa doesn’t make you an African. I’ve come to realize that even if I commit my life to development in Africa, it will never surmount that I was born and raised in Canada. Because of my upbringing, I will always have more options available to me that my African counterparts. But, coming here has also reminded me that no matter where you go, you take yourself with you.

When I reflect on this, I realize that this is an incredible opportunity for connecting Canadians to Africa. We spend time learning about Ghana– enjoying the culture, listening to stories, and becoming appreciated members of our families– so that when we return home, we can share the beauty and stories of Ghana: a new facet of the ever changing, multidimensional people we are.

Thanks for reading,

Erin

Connections through Questions

Friday June 25th 2010

Over the past week I’ve received several questions from some of the beautiful folks at EWB-UNB about my experience in Ghana. Their questions have been super interesting, and I’m really appreciative of the effort that has gone in to them. I thought it would be worthwhile to write a post with my response to one of the questions that I could share with everyone here. Their questions also gave me a new idea for encouraging dialogue between my blog and its readers, which you can read more about in the last paragraph.

Q: What has been the hardest thing to get used to in Ghana? What is it that makes you say ‘Wow, this is a whole different world’ ?

A: There are certain aspects of life in Ghana that generate a sense of wrongness within me. It’s not that I know certain things are ‘wrong’ or ‘right’— clearly no one can claim to be the sole arbiter of that. But, this sense of wrongness starts to percolate into my consciousness when I’m exposed to situations that are unfamiliar and that go against what I’ve always known in Canada. Here are two examples to help illustrate the point I’m making:

Example 1: Recently I witnessed Bosit, a 2 year old boy in our compound, fall while playing outside. He scraped his chin on the cement ditch that boarders the perimeter of the compound, and was left with a terrible gash. His mother Stella, hearing his cries, attentively scooped him up into her arms and began sopping up the blood with a dishtowel, not the sterile, one time use gauze pad or band-aid that my mother may have used. It’s certainly not that Bosit’s mother is a negligent parent—it just simply isn’t as common to have ready access to basic medical provisions at home. These goods do exist at the Hohoe District Hospital, but given that the hospital is a 50 pesewa taxi ride across town, and that upon arriving you’re undoubtedly greeted by a long wait due to the mass of other individuals waiting for service, Stella chooses to remedy Bosit’s situation on her own.

Thankfully this was a relatively minor incident and Bosit wasn’t in dire need of professional attention. But, what if the injury had been more serious? I don’t know how things would play out, and I hope I don’t have to find out any time soon. Certainly, it wouldn’t be as easy and dialling 911, waiting only minutes for an ambulance, and promptly receiving world-class medical care.

Example 2: Last week, Hohoe township was without running water for five days. Rumour was that a pipe in town had burst, but after asking around I noticed that no one seemed to have more information than that.

I’ll ask you to think for a moment about how disrupted your life would be if the water stopped running in your community for five days. That means your toilets don’t flush, you can’t run the dishwasher, and you have to purchase water every day for cooking, drinking, and washing. What would you do? Who do you call? What are your questions?

Lack of reliable, hygienic, safe infrastructure in Ghana is not Haiti, BP, or the Gaza blockade. The media won’t have any casualties to report on, or stories of shock and despair to capture. Although on a lesser magnitude than some of the heavy hitting crises mentioned, I believe the story of infrastructure in Ghana still deserves a blip in the global media’s spotlight. Living side by side with those who aren’t empowered to call on their government, to expect honest and reliable answers, and to advocate for solutions they feel are appropriate, seriously makes me stop in my tracks and think about how different the life I’ve known in Canada is from the one I’m beginning to feel a part of here.

Superficially, the clothes, the food, and the scenery take my breath away and make me appreciate all of the beautiful ways in which Ghana differs from Canada. However, it’s not the new people and their culture; it’s not my being the only white girl around that truly makes me feel like I’m in a foreign place. It’s when I so starkly see a contrast to what I’ve always known, and what I’ve always thought was right, that I realize I’ve grown up in a place that operates with a completely different set of rules than Ghana. Those rules, both formal and informal, govern what individuals expect from themselves, their community, and their government. Ultimately I think it’s these rules that are different between nations, and that people behave differently largely as a result of their existence.

I plan on posting my responses to questions I’ve received from you, the reader, once per week for the remainder of my placement. You can either ask questions by commenting on this post, or by sending an email to erinflanagan@ewb.ca. This series of question-based posts is meant to compliment the type of writing you’ve already seen from me, not replace it.

This plan hinges on your participation, so please jump in with both feet and take advantage of it. There are no limits to the type of questions you can ask– from my work, to the JF experience, to culture and life in Ghana, and everything in between– I’ll do my best to answer all of the questions each week.

Alright, Canada, now the ball is in your court. I can’t wait to read and reflect on your questions.

Thanks for reading,

Erin

Mixed Bag

Tuesday June 22nd 2010

Lots of interesting things have been taking place in my life recently, so I’ve decided to stray slightly from my typical ‘one story per post’ approach to fill you all in. Below you’ll find a brief snapshot of three situations I found myself in over the past week.

• Last week, after speaking with some of the kids about typical breakfast foods in Canada, I decided to attempt to make banana pancakes for everyone in the compound. This was received with much curiosity and laughter, as my family tried maple syrup for the first time, critiqued my culinary skills (which despite my best efforts never seem to be up to par), and eventually devoured at least a dozen cassava flour banana pancakes. Now, nearly everyday one of the kids inquires about the next time we’ll make pancakes. In light of the success of this pancake mass cook-off, I was invited by Pastor Divine and his wife Lydia, whom I live with in the compound, to teach the women’s group at their church how to make pancakes. I felt like this was a pretty neat invitation, so I agreed right away.

When the time came to attend the meeting, I was greeted by +30 women who were keen on learning about these mysterious Canadian pancakes. These women turned out to be even harsher culinary critiques than my family, and it only took me making one pancake before they were giving me pointers on the optimum shade of golden brown the pancake should reach before leaving the frying pan. The women continually told me “God bless your future husband” which I found quite amusing. If my future husband marries me for my pancakes, we’re in trouble.

A picture of the women's group crowd learning to make pancakes!
 

After my self-proclaimed ‘pancake tutorial’, I had a conversation with a few of the women about the potential to sell pancakes at the market. I suggested the idea half jokingly, but it seems like some of the ladies don’t think it’s a bad one. They aren’t all the biggest fans of banana pancakes, but they do want to experiment with pineapple, coconut, and vanilla. Also, instead of maple syrup they are going to try using honey.

• I recently travelled to Akuse and spent the night in a lovely little guest house. Little did I know that the particular room I had chosen had a few tricks up its sleeve. Turns out it was outfitted only with florescent green light bulbs. Obviously I was quite surprised when I flicked the switch, but at the end of a long day of travel it did provide me with some much needed comic relief. This was one of those ‘only in Ghana will this likely ever happen to me..’ moments.

My florecent green lightbulb (and ceiling) in Akuse.
 

• Also while in Akuse, I had the opportunity to visit a family whose speciality was making glass beads.  From what I could tell, every member of the family was employed through this trade– from the elders crafting the beads right down to the children stringing jewellery.  As I explored their shop I came to notice that some of their products had Ten Thousand Villages tags on them. I inquired, and a lady informed me that they sell their glass products, such as fine beads, candle votives, and key chains, to Ten Thousand Villages. It was pretty cool to meet first hand someone whose products can likely be found in a speciality store in Canada. Talk about closing the loop on seeing the incredible amount of power each individual has when they make their daily purchasing decisions.

First hand experiences like this one make me all the more thankful for purchasing outlets catering to value-based shopping, such as Ethical Ocean, Ten Thousand Villages, and TransFair Canada. Supporting initiatives that place a high value on understanding the story behind the products they sell really does make a difference in the lives of rural producers.

Thanks for reading,

Erin

One Fish, Two Fish

Friday June 18th 2010

This post is dedicated, with much love and admiration, to the 2010 Ghana JFs.

As we approach the half-way mark on our placements, time becomes an increasingly stressful entity. Thoughts of defining our success, quantifying our impact, and evaluating our usefulness start infiltrating our brain space at an alarmingly frequent rate. It’s a natural reaction to the thought of returning home, communicating our experience to chapter members, and beginning the third and final stage of the JF program.

In a recent conversation with another JF, I made the following analogy. At the time it caused us both to laugh and shake our heads, but after reflecting on the conversation more seriously I decided I wanted to share it with everyone.

It went something like this: sometimes I find myself feeling like a fisherman, sitting in a boat in the middle of a river. I’m fully equipped (or so I think) to catch fish– I’ve got a rod, ample bait, and a plan to execute.

As time passes, I notice fish don’t seem to be nibbling. I start getting worried. I remind myself that I spent time and energy trekking to this river, and my journey won’t have been successful if I leave without a fish. I question where all of the fish I was sure I’d find could be hiding. I wonder if, and when, they’ll ever appear.

As more time passes, I think to myself that perhaps I’m not a very good fisherman, or that perhaps by mistake I’ve brought the wrong bait, or maybe I’ve journeyed to the river at the wrong time. This continues ad nauseum until, finally, I get a bite. Maybe it’s just a nibble, and I don’t pull anything into the boat. Or, maybe I’m lucky and I’ve actually caught something. Regardless of the outcome, it’s a reminder that even when nothing was biting, there were still fish in the river.

Fishing takes time, and you largely can’t predict where the fish swim. The environment is variable, and there isn’t a direct channel that, when followed, guarantees catching a multitude of fish. However, allowing yourself to stress over the time elapsed on your journey doesn’t increase the frequency of catching fish, and in fact just invites self-doubt and unnecessary hesitation.

For various reasons, we place pressure on ourselves to be successful JFs. Defining success is quite personal, and can be done using any number of factors: how effective we are at work, how rapidly we can learn from our environments, how deeply we connect with, learn from, and begin to understand rural livelihoods, etc.

We don’t know exactly what success looks like, and often we can’t find exactly the right metric to define it, but we are aware of the general direction in which we want to travel to define our success. Because of this, there are habits we naturally adopt to increase the probability that the micro movements of our everyday lives cumulatively generate the macro directional trend we use to define success.

I’ve composed the following list based on the many JFs I’ve observed who continually demonstrate habits that make them, figuratively speaking, good development fisherman.

7 Habits of Highly Effective JFs

1. The tenacity to stay positive and stick to your goals despite setbacks.
2. An unwavering commitment to put your best self forward everyday.
3. The humility to admit your shortcomings and the willingness to learn from your failures.
4. A sense of ownership over your personal learning and recognition that you are responsible for maximizing opportunities that you are presented with.
5. The courage to stand up and speak out for what you believe in.
6. A passion for learning from people, and the empathy to try to understand life from their perspective.
7. A steadfast respect for diversity, especially when dealing with behaviours you don’t understand or don’t personally agree with.

And so my friends, if you feel like a fisherman sitting in your boat waiting for fish, I hope this serves as a reminder of what you’re good at. Maybe, at the end of the day, it’s less about defining success by the number of metaphorical fish you’ve caught, and more about celebrating the habits that got you there.

Thanks for reading,

Erin

United Colors of Dorothy

Friday June 11th 2010

EWB uses the term Dorothy to represent the African individuals for whom, and with whom, we are working. Someone who we are accountable to for our work overseas, and who we think about when we question the type of impact we’re having. Dorothy is someone who reminds us of the lives of Africa’s rural poor caught in the cycle of poverty.

From the Orange Wiki of Change:

“Notwithstanding the various stakeholders, [..] there is one stakeholder who must always come first: the people in the developing communities with whom and for whom we work. The name ‘Dorothy’ personifies the “stakeholder who must always come first.”

Dorothy means something a little different for everyone in EWB– for some, it’s a nostalgic reminder of a great person they’ve met overseas, while for others it’s a faceless concept that grounds them to realities they haven’t experienced.

I think that the Dorothy concept is a good idea, if only because the question “What would Dorothy want?” prevents EWB enthusiasts from slipping off into a jargon-induced coma via encouraging deeper, more critical thoughts from the perspective of those whose lives we affect. I like how the term is used in Canada, and I think that it plays a big role in EWB’s organizational culture. In fact, putting Dorothy first is our bottom line.

Lately I’ve realized that I likely won’t leave Ghana in August with one or two people in mind when I think of what the term Dorothy means to me in the context of this experience.

Before stepping off the plane at the Kotoko International Airport, Ghana was a giant, complicated puzzle with an additional layer of complexity– the puzzle pieces were all white. Try as I might to understand Ghana from Canada, I arrived fumbling to find the edge pieces, trying to solve a puzzle whose end goal, the complete image, I couldn’t see.

I want to share with you a brief introduction to some of the people who are helping me color in the puzzle pieces of development in Ghana. While none of these people solely represent my “Dorothy”, they do represent a cross-section of individuals who motivate me, pull at my heart-strings, and make me question what development, in the best interest of Ghanaians, really looks like.

Otto, a local farmer of both rice and maize, has been able to put his 10 children through secondary school because of his farming income. He told me that he was poor not because he was a farmer unable to generate an income. In fact, he’s poor despite his income because he has 10 children, all who need to be educated, and schooling is expensive. He wants to see that his children, 6 boys and 4 girls, are all successful in life. Otto works hard to make a living and is continually balancing setting his children up for long-term success with providing for his family’s immediate needs.

Mary is 24 years old, and 5 months pregnant with her second child. Her husband, Eric, is a carpenter and travels frequently to find work. Mary spends most of her days cooking and cleaning with Eric’s mother and tending to her young daughter Lucky. Despite her pregnancy, she still walks 10 minutes to the nearest source of clean water, fills up a large metal bowl, and gracefully carries it back to her home. For reasons unknown to me, Mary has only her primary education. I look at Mary and think that if she had the opportunity, she could contribute more to society.

Prosper is an 8 year old Ghanaian boy with a glowing spirit. I saw his youth and innocence as he ran with his school friends, chasing a ball made from plastic bags down a dusty dirt path. I see that he is filled with curiosity and imagination as I watch him navigate the path of a tire, using two sticks to steer its course, across a bumpy landscape. He is just a kid– having fun, playing with friends, and enjoying life– like any kid loves to do. I won’t know Prosper when he’s in his 20s or 30s, but I hope that he captures his ingenuity and puts it to use for the betterment of Ghana.

For me, Dorothy doesn’t have a face. However, when I return to Canada, she will have a voice. It’s a voice that echoes the sound bites of the many Ghanaians I’ve met, and will continue to meet, that keep me relentless in my hope for a brighter Africa.

Thanks for reading,

Erin

Fertile Ground

Thursday June 3rd 2010

Akpafu Odomi is a charming mountain side community, approximately 2000 individuals in size, in the heart of the Volta region. Because of its geographic location, it is blessed with both fertile soils and heavy rains. Community members harvest rice, maize, cassava, cocoa, groundnuts, banana, oranges, grapefruit, coconut, and various types of vegetables. During my stay, I was able to join farmers in going to the field nearly everyday. During the first two days, I worked closely with a rice farmer named Charlotte.

It all started with an invitation to visit the community’s nearby rice plot. Early in the morning, we made our way from Charlotte’s home to the rice field, following a winding dirt path through the forest. She assured me that the field was nearby, yet I was surprised to see that the field, a 40 minute walk from her home, fell into the ‘nearby’ category.

Once we arrived, Charlotte insisted that I stand at the edge of the field. She was under the impression that I should just look at the field— not actually do any work. Of course, I was under the impression that I hadn’t just walked 40 minutes in the beating sun to get a visual on a +5 acre rice field.

I was frustrated that I had inadvertently wasted Charlotte’s time, and also that my interest in farming wasn’t being taken seriously. Charlotte was very against me farming– she thought the idea was ridiculous and that I was crazy for wanting to participate. I insisted that I join her on the next occasion that she would be farming, and after some debate, I was able to convince her that I was in fact willing and able to help.

The next day we again made our 40 minute trek to the field. Little did I know that our outing was about to become a memorable adventure. Less than 10 minutes after arriving, the skies opened up and we were greeted by a full on African rainstorm. My clothes felt instantly soaked. Charlotte cut down a huge banana leaf that I used as a makeshift umbrella, and not wanting to appear like too much of a whimp, I agreed to continue on with what we had set out to accomplish. In moments like this one– walking along the shoulder of a bumpy Ghanaian back road in a torrential downpour, in size too large rubber boots, with a banana leaf umbrella, life strikes the perfect balance of hilarious and challenging.

The valley where the rice is planted is very swampy– great for a high yield, not so hot for human locomotion. Wading through the swamp, with each step your foot is immersed in thick clay-like mud that requires a few shimmies before being set free. At first I was all smiles, laughing with Charlotte as we made our way through the mud. Gradually though, as the novelty of the mud wore off, I realized that it was zapping all of my energy– it took a lot of effort to move through the swampy environment and I quickly became tired. Combined with the constant threat of falling on your bottom, travelling through rice fields is both an exhilarating and exhausting experience.

I was quite relieved when we reached our desired location and we were able to take a break from moving. The break was short-lived, though, as Charlotte began transplanting the seedlings and weeding the field simultaneously. Because I was just learning the ropes, I stuck with transplanting the rice. This was quite straightforward: grab a seedling, dig a small hole in the mud with your finger, and insert the roots. I learned that it’s all about the spacing– neat and tidy rows with evenly spaced stalks. I thought I had it in the bag, only to notice at later inspection that my lines were totally askew. Regardless, I was very proud of my work at the end of the day.

Charlotte is pushing for change in her farming community. She’s setting an innovative example by taking the risk to plant a new variety of rice seed, and by experimenting with her farming techniques. She is a smart, resilient woman who has the best interest of her family always at the forefront of her mind. It takes only moments to realize that she has an incredible work ethic and is tough as nails. Between taking care of her growing family, planting and harvesting rice three times a year, farming cassava, and acting as treasurer of her church, I left Akpafu Odomi exhausted after just a small glimpse into her life. To say that she inspired me during my stay would be quite an understatement.

Thanks for reading,

Erin

Attitude is Everything

Saturday May 29th 2010

There are many things here beyond my control. From the government, to the weather, to race and gender biases, there are big challenges that seem to continually rear their heads in my daily life. With so many factors constantly at play, staying positive can feel like a full-time job.

It takes mental effort and diligence to stay positive, through every interaction, exclusive of no one– from the taxi driver asking to marry you, to the farmer looking for a loan, to the kids in the schoolyard screaming for your attention. It’s easy for me to begrudge the fact that life in Ghana presents a whole slew of challenges that I’m not used to. It’s easy to fall down the slippery slope of feeling useless, frustrated, and incapable of creating change when problems appear to be so Herculean.

I’ve caught myself falling pry to this; feeling exhausted from trying to make sense of it all, feeling like I don’t understand why things aren’t working, and feeling like an alien in a place I don’t belong. Ultimately though, I’ve come to realize that this isn’t a productive attitude to hold on to. When I feel overwhelmed with so much out of my control, I remember that while it’s true that many of the challenges I’m facing are not problems I can conceivably solve on my own, there’s one big factor within my grasp that has enormous influence on my experience.

Sometimes I need to slow down, smell the flowers, and remind myself that attitude is everything.

As my Nana would say, there are no shortcuts in life to any place worth going. With this in mind, I try to remind myself that staying positive, diligently working through frustrations, and being as open as possible in my communication is, while not the easiest path to stay true to, ultimately a very worthwhile one to pursue. Switching my attitude to a more positive one– one in which I’m willing to have conversations around cultural differences, complexity in development, and personal values– is not only more fruitful for everyone involved, but leaves me feeling more accomplished at the end of the day.

With this approach, I hope to whittle away at other people’s preconceptions of who I am and what I value. But perhaps more importantly, I’m giving other people the opportunity to break away from the unconscious stereotypes I’m holding them to in my mind. Plus, at the end of the day it’s easier for me to sleep at night knowing that I’m tired from trying to productively work through frustrations, and not because I let emotional roadblocks get the best of me.

Thanks for reading,

Erin