For the non-golfers reading my blog, the Ryder Cup is a professional golf competition between U.S. golfers and those from Europe. It’s a tournament that occurs every two years with the venue rotating between the United States and a location in Europe. Not to be outdone, the ex-pats in Ghana have initiated the annual Cryder Cup Golf Tournament. The Cryder Cup pits the ex-pats from the U.S. against….the World….not just Europe.
I was told that the name of the tournament was changed to “Cryder” because of all the crying and whining going on by the Americans. Evidently, much like the Ryder Cup, the Cryder Cup has been won mostly by the non-American team. That was all about to change….
Kumasi is about a five hour drive north of Accra. Instead of making the long drive, Julie, Otto, Dave and I took a 35 minute flight and were met at the Kumasi airport by Otto’s driver, Peter. We stayed at a place called “The Four Villages,” which is basically a bed and breakfast with four rooms designated as hotel rooms. It is owned by Chris and his wife, Canadians, who have lived in Kumasi for 11 years. Included in the cost of the rooms were beer and frosty mugs straight out of Chris’ freezer. A quick drink on the veranda was needed before we headed off to the kickoff dinner/party at the Moti Mahal Indian Restaurant.
At the restaurant, we met up with the rest of our team members and met our adversaries…the World. They weren’t so scary. In fact, some of them were just flat out drunk! Ha ha!! This was obviously going to be a lot of fun. With the exception of Dave, Otto, Julie, and I, I think the rest of the golfers came from one of the two mine sites (Ahafo or Akyem). After an evening of getting to know our teammates and checking out the competition, we returned to The Four Villages to prepare for the tournament. (Code for “sleeping.”)
The format of the tournament was one in which neither Dave and I had ever participated. I don’t know what it was called, but this is basically how it went. We both hit off the tee box, and chose the best shot. From there, we both hit our own ball for the rest of the hole. At the end our total scores were added up and our handicaps were applied. Dave and I were paired with Bart and Walter – both South Africans who work at the Akyem mine site. The course was narrow so it was important to hit a straight ball, especially off the tee box. Dave and I had a dual advantage: 1) I got to tee off from the reds, and the guys had to hit from the blues; 2) I hit the ball straight, and the guys (especially the South Africans) did not! In fact, Dave and I took my ball all but four holes.
The golf course was much nicer than the one at Takoradi and the greens were actually “green,” although quite bumpy. The day started out pretty nice with overcast skies and fairly cool air. That lasted about two holes, and then the heat and humidity set in.
Dave and I trampled our competition, and helped lift the entire U.S. team to a win. No, not just a win – but a trouncing. Julie golfed lights out. I think that every U.S. team beat their counterparts, and we enjoyed the win.
In the end, the competition was a friendly one, and for most of the competitors was a way to enjoy a weekend off of the mine compounds. We enjoyed meeting other Newmont employees and contractors. And, for at least one year the U.S. golfers can claim victory.
Until we meet again!
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Royal Seed School
The Royal Seed School is, in reality, not a school, but an orphanage. It is located about 5 miles north of Kasoa (kah-sue-wah), which is just west of Accra. Jennifer, whose husband, Michael, is a geologist for Newmont, introduced Michele and I to the orphanage in my first couple of weeks.
Jennifer has been visiting the orphanage for three years, and my first trip out to the school included a number of stories about the history of the facility and how it came to be. So, let’s start with that, and hopefully I’ll get the story somewhat right.
Naomi runs the orphanage and is the founder of the facility. Several years ago she left an abusive marriage. At some point, she decided she wanted to help other young women learn a trade so they wouldn’t have to remain in a bad relationship or rely on the men in their lives. She taught them basic skills, such as sewing and cooking. As the women became more proficient, they left the villages and moved into Accra where they could put their skills to work. Unfortunately, many of them left their young children behind with Naomi as they couldn’t financially afford to take them.
At one point, Naomi had 15 children in her care and decided to approach a social services agency to see if she could get some financial assistance. Well, when they found out she had 15 children in her home, they informed her that she was, essentially, running an orphanage. And, voila…the Royal Seed School was founded.
Once Social Services determined she was operating an orphanage, they started dropping children on her doorstep, as did the police and family members. The population of her facility continued to grow, with very little money.
Another cultural lesson is necessary at this juncture. There are only two state-run orphanages, and just a handful of private ones. These are the only facilities that can qualify for regional or national funding. Private organizations, like Unicef or Save the Children, require orphanages to be both registered and certified in order to apply for any substantial funding. I may have this backwards, but I think you’ll get the drift. There are about 200 orphanages that are registered, but only the two state-run orphanages and the few private ones are certified. In order to become certified, orphanages must meet minimum standards (i.e., Unicef standards); one of which is one adult for every child. When you have 120 students, like Naomi has, this is practically impossible as they operate primarily on volunteers. The facility must also have a certain number of buildings, including a kitchen, restrooms, bathing facilities, dorms, etc.
One of the state run orphanages is located in Osu, a suburb of Accra. Last fall a journalist went undercover into the orphanage and the result was evidently not good. Jennifer didn’t expand on the story, and frankly, I didn’t really want to know the details. I do know that much of the donations that were coming in were not being used in the best interests of the children, but rather the workers were benefitting. The result was the Ghanaian government cracking down on orphanages (not a bad thing, on the surface). In addition, the government launched the Care Reform Initiative to discourage the setting up of new orphanages in favor of encouraging community based care and support .
Historically, extended families took care of children whose parents had died, but when so many orphanages began to open, it was often more practical to take the children to the facility. In this way they knew that: 1) the child would be fed; 2) they wouldn’t be a financial burden to the rest of the family; and 3) they would likely be educated. The result is that many of the children who are now in the orphanages are not actual orphans; it’s just that their families do not feel they can provide for them. The government is trying to change the pattern, and is closing orphanages. The children are left in the middle. The orphanages that are closing are simply sending the children to the orphanages that remain open, putting an even greater burden on them.
With all of that being said, Naomi currently has approximately 120 children in her care at any one time. It takes about 2,000 cedis a month just to feed the children, and their diet does not include meat. They eat lots of rice, bread, and plaintains. The children are relatively clean, considering they are living in the middle of Africa in the dirt. Their teeth are unusually white and straight!
So, with that, Michele, her kids, Jennifer and I headed to the Royal Seed School with Loco as our driver. Jennifer warned us that school was on break, and not all 120 children would be at the facility because if a child has some family still living, the family is required to allow the child to come home during all school breaks. She told us that it would likely be mass chaos as there is no structure in the day when school is not in session. When we arrived at the school gate, my first glimpse of the compound was that of children dancing, some sitting around talking, and boys chasing each other. When the children saw us with a basket of oranges, one of the older boys quickly came over to take it to the kitchen to be cut up. We also brought some rice and beans for their supply. Michele and her kids brought a few soccer balls and jump ropes, and the kids anxiously started grabbing at the items. (Imagine you trying to get to the toys before all of your brothers and sisters!) The toys were popular items and the older boys absolutely loved the soccer balls. Tori took off with the little girls to jump rope. In retrospect, I have not seen any of these items in my subsequent visits.
Jennifer took us around the facility and we were introduced to a few of the volunteers. I was actually surprised at how few adults there were. Four or five of them were younger, Caucasian adults from the U.S. I have yet to figure out how they found their way to the orphanage, and by what organizations they were sponsored, if any. Their answers are always vague, when I ask them questions. Regardless, the volunteers appeared to basically be holding the smaller children and babies.
The first time I visited I took my camera. Many of the children gathered around me as they wanted to see pictures of themselves. I took LOTS and LOTS. The boys were really funny because they wanted their pictures to either be about them being silly (making faces) or cool (arms crossed, eyebrows lifted). One little boy, Kofi, who I would guess is about 10 years old, was sort of mean to the other kids – kept pushing them away and I told him I wasn’t going to take his picture if he was being mean to others. While I wouldn’t say he changed immediately, he did respond to me and backed off of the other kids. Eventually, he came up behind me and whispered into my ear, “Show me a picture of your house.” Unfortunately, I didn’t have any pictures, but I told him that I would take some and show them to him the next time I came back. I have not seen him since, but it may just be that he’s lost in the 120+ kids!
That first trip was quite an eye opener for me. I have never visited an orphanage, even in the U.S., so really wasn’t sure what to expect. The compound, for lack of better words, includes some rooms for schools, an office, a computer lab, a storage room, kitchen, bathrooms, showers, two story girls dorm as well as a two-story boys dorm. Outside there is a water pump; although I’m not sure if it’s water that the children can drink. There is a porch area outside of the boys dorm, and this is where the babies were kept on both my first and second trip to the orphanage. On my third trip, I asked where they were and I was told “they are in school.” I’m not sure what a 4 month old is going to learn in school with 5 and 6 years old….and never actually saw them in the classrooms.
The compound has a few scraggly dogs and right now a new litter of puppies. They originally got the dogs for protection. At night there are no lights. A few weeks ago some people came into the compound and the dogs alerted the volunteers. Unfortunately, the thieves got away with about 200 chickens that are held in pens behind the buildings. Can you imagine? Stealing from an orphanage!!! There aren’t many people lower than that!
Last week when I went to the orphanage, all of the kids were in the classrooms. Except my buddy, Yakamo (Yak-uh-moe). Yakamo (spelling?) is about two years old and is always looking for an adult to hold him. He is so cute! There were some girls (20 years oldish) by the fire getting ready to cook some lunch and I asked them why Yakamo wasn’t in school like the rest of the kids and they answered, “He’s stubborn.” I watched one of the girls pick up this huge 10 gallon plastic container that read “vegetable oil” and pour it into one of the large pots on the open fire. It was unlike any vegetable oil I’ve ever seen as it was a dark orange color. On the ledge next to me was a big bowl of what appeared to be tomato sauce, and the flies were bombarding the liquidy substance! The tomato sauce was added to the vegetable oil and the girl had a 5 ft. wood pole that she used to stir the concoction. When I asked what they were cooking, I was told, “red soup.”
About some of the kids….
Jonathan is the oldest orphan, and he appears to be in charge in terms of the children. He’s a handsome young man, about 16 or 17 years old. I think he is scheduled to attend high school next year; one of five who will be going to a private high school, if enough funds are raised. It costs approximately $1,000 USD for a child to attend high school as they are also boarded at the school.
The first time I went to the orphanage there was this sad little boy, Joshua . He had just arrived a couple of weeks before. I would guess his age at about four. He clung to Michele, and she carried him around for what seemed like hours. At one point, I was sitting on a bench and he came over and just stood between my legs. He looked so scared and alone. I took his picture several times, and was finally able to get a smile out of him. Unfortunately, like many of the younger children, he has a very limited English vocabulary. Whenever he wants something, he taps my leg and points.
One little boy was found in a river, and apparently he had been there for quite some time; about three days. Because of the water damage, his skin just peeled off, and it was evidently a very painful process for him to recover. He is deaf, and the doctors believe that is a result of his being submerged for so long.
Michele’s son, Stone, decided he would show the children a magic trick. Stone is just 11 years old himself. He has a little contraption whereby you put cedi bills inside before you demonstrate the trick. Then, he takes a blank piece of paper and rolls it into the machine, and voila….on the other side, out comes money! The kids thought this was incredible and kept asking him to do it again…and again…and again. They wanted him to leave the machine. I really think most of the kids really thought he was making money, and if that was the case, why couldn’t he just leave it with them and then all of their money troubles would be over.
A couple of times we have stopped at a market and picked up some fruit to take with us. The second time we took some watermelon, and was a fruit that the kids had never tried, as it is expensive in relation to pineapples, mangos, and oranges. They LOVED the watermelon. Many of the kids would come up to me, tap my leg, and point to the watermelon, wanting more!
When I arrived at the orphanage last week, school was in session. After milling around with Yakamo and the cooks, I went into one of the classrooms where Jennifer was attempting a short lesson on dinosaurs. The problem was that these kids had no idea what a dinosaur was or looked like. Jennifer was trying to draw a picture up on the chalkboard, but you could tell the kids didn’t really get it. I was sitting in the back row, observing, and then pulled out my Blackberry and pulled up a picture of a dinosaur. The boys, in particular, were fascinated, and wanted to know if I had ever seen one. They simply had no concept of the lesson.
After showing them pictures of a variety of dinosaurs, I then got requests for pictures of other animals – zebra, horse, elephant, and a hawk. THEN, they wanted to know if I knew who Michael Jackson was and if I had a picture of him. I found one of those, and then they wanted to see a video of him dancing. I tried to pull one up, but the connection was simply too slow for that. I had 10-12 kids surrounding me, and it was getting pretty warm. When I mentioned it was hot, this one boy made everyone get away and then he started fanning me. It made me laugh!
I did wonder why these kids had never seen a picture of a dinosaur since they have a computer lab that was donated by Newmont. I’m pretty sure they have internet access (at least the office does). The teachers are local Ghanaians, and basically write things up on the chalkboard and the students copy it on their paper. VERY basic education, and frankly, it appeared that there was very little learning going on, including copying!
Adoption is not culturally acceptable in Ghana, which leaves these children with little chance of being adopted. Jennifer told Michele and I a story about a friend of hers from Canada (Danielle, I think) who was interested in adopting twin girls that arrived at the orphanage a couple of years ago. The children’s mother had died in childbirth and the father was quite elderly. A son from a previous marriage attended the funeral and determined the children were not being well taken care of as they were obviously malnourished. He took the children to the orphanage when they were about a week or two old.
Jennifer took pictures of the babies and sent them to Danielle, who quickly told her she and her husband wanted to adopt the babies. While the Ghanaian government quickly approved the adoption, getting the Canadian government approval was much more difficult as they try to make sure the children are protected. In other words, they are more proactive in deterring child trafficking. Danielle brought her five year old child and her mother to Ghana to begin the adoption process. She immediately went to the orphanage and picked up the babies.
The Canadian government required a birth certificate, which seems simple, right? Well, these children were born in a remote village in the northern region of Ghana. There was no birth certificate. Being desperate, she found someone who was willing to produce a birth certificate, but when she presented it to the Canadian government, they found several obvious mistakes (dates, etc.). This threw up red flags, and likely extended the time in which it took to adopt the children. After one full year, Danielle and her husband were able to adopt the babies. She spent the entire year in Ghana, sending her mother and son back after a few months. Her husband and son flew to Ghana for Christmas,
After more than a year, the babies were officially adopted by Danielle and her husband. Living in Accra is not cheap. During the year long process, she and her husband put thousands of dollars into the adoption. They almost lost their house in Canada as they took out a second mortgage. I was told that the process would likely be easier for couples from America as the U.S. doesn’t have the strict child trafficking law like Canada.
Now, if you’re thinking this is one of the saddest stories ever, I want you to think about something. The Royal Seed School is one of the more fortunate schools. They have a woman in charge dedicated to what she’s doing, and who is an aggressive fundraiser. According to Jennifer, the orphanage has made tremendous progress in the three years in which she has been involved. There are many, many other orphanages where children are living in much worse conditions. The children I’ve seen are well taken care. One of the primary things lacking in their lives is the personal touch of another human being, and at this point in my journey in Africa….that’s what I’m able to give.
(More pictures will follow once I get back to Ghana.)
Jennifer has been visiting the orphanage for three years, and my first trip out to the school included a number of stories about the history of the facility and how it came to be. So, let’s start with that, and hopefully I’ll get the story somewhat right.
Naomi runs the orphanage and is the founder of the facility. Several years ago she left an abusive marriage. At some point, she decided she wanted to help other young women learn a trade so they wouldn’t have to remain in a bad relationship or rely on the men in their lives. She taught them basic skills, such as sewing and cooking. As the women became more proficient, they left the villages and moved into Accra where they could put their skills to work. Unfortunately, many of them left their young children behind with Naomi as they couldn’t financially afford to take them.
At one point, Naomi had 15 children in her care and decided to approach a social services agency to see if she could get some financial assistance. Well, when they found out she had 15 children in her home, they informed her that she was, essentially, running an orphanage. And, voila…the Royal Seed School was founded.
Once Social Services determined she was operating an orphanage, they started dropping children on her doorstep, as did the police and family members. The population of her facility continued to grow, with very little money.
Another cultural lesson is necessary at this juncture. There are only two state-run orphanages, and just a handful of private ones. These are the only facilities that can qualify for regional or national funding. Private organizations, like Unicef or Save the Children, require orphanages to be both registered and certified in order to apply for any substantial funding. I may have this backwards, but I think you’ll get the drift. There are about 200 orphanages that are registered, but only the two state-run orphanages and the few private ones are certified. In order to become certified, orphanages must meet minimum standards (i.e., Unicef standards); one of which is one adult for every child. When you have 120 students, like Naomi has, this is practically impossible as they operate primarily on volunteers. The facility must also have a certain number of buildings, including a kitchen, restrooms, bathing facilities, dorms, etc.
One of the state run orphanages is located in Osu, a suburb of Accra. Last fall a journalist went undercover into the orphanage and the result was evidently not good. Jennifer didn’t expand on the story, and frankly, I didn’t really want to know the details. I do know that much of the donations that were coming in were not being used in the best interests of the children, but rather the workers were benefitting. The result was the Ghanaian government cracking down on orphanages (not a bad thing, on the surface). In addition, the government launched the Care Reform Initiative to discourage the setting up of new orphanages in favor of encouraging community based care and support .
Historically, extended families took care of children whose parents had died, but when so many orphanages began to open, it was often more practical to take the children to the facility. In this way they knew that: 1) the child would be fed; 2) they wouldn’t be a financial burden to the rest of the family; and 3) they would likely be educated. The result is that many of the children who are now in the orphanages are not actual orphans; it’s just that their families do not feel they can provide for them. The government is trying to change the pattern, and is closing orphanages. The children are left in the middle. The orphanages that are closing are simply sending the children to the orphanages that remain open, putting an even greater burden on them.
With all of that being said, Naomi currently has approximately 120 children in her care at any one time. It takes about 2,000 cedis a month just to feed the children, and their diet does not include meat. They eat lots of rice, bread, and plaintains. The children are relatively clean, considering they are living in the middle of Africa in the dirt. Their teeth are unusually white and straight!
So, with that, Michele, her kids, Jennifer and I headed to the Royal Seed School with Loco as our driver. Jennifer warned us that school was on break, and not all 120 children would be at the facility because if a child has some family still living, the family is required to allow the child to come home during all school breaks. She told us that it would likely be mass chaos as there is no structure in the day when school is not in session. When we arrived at the school gate, my first glimpse of the compound was that of children dancing, some sitting around talking, and boys chasing each other. When the children saw us with a basket of oranges, one of the older boys quickly came over to take it to the kitchen to be cut up. We also brought some rice and beans for their supply. Michele and her kids brought a few soccer balls and jump ropes, and the kids anxiously started grabbing at the items. (Imagine you trying to get to the toys before all of your brothers and sisters!) The toys were popular items and the older boys absolutely loved the soccer balls. Tori took off with the little girls to jump rope. In retrospect, I have not seen any of these items in my subsequent visits.
Jennifer took us around the facility and we were introduced to a few of the volunteers. I was actually surprised at how few adults there were. Four or five of them were younger, Caucasian adults from the U.S. I have yet to figure out how they found their way to the orphanage, and by what organizations they were sponsored, if any. Their answers are always vague, when I ask them questions. Regardless, the volunteers appeared to basically be holding the smaller children and babies.
The first time I visited I took my camera. Many of the children gathered around me as they wanted to see pictures of themselves. I took LOTS and LOTS. The boys were really funny because they wanted their pictures to either be about them being silly (making faces) or cool (arms crossed, eyebrows lifted). One little boy, Kofi, who I would guess is about 10 years old, was sort of mean to the other kids – kept pushing them away and I told him I wasn’t going to take his picture if he was being mean to others. While I wouldn’t say he changed immediately, he did respond to me and backed off of the other kids. Eventually, he came up behind me and whispered into my ear, “Show me a picture of your house.” Unfortunately, I didn’t have any pictures, but I told him that I would take some and show them to him the next time I came back. I have not seen him since, but it may just be that he’s lost in the 120+ kids!
That first trip was quite an eye opener for me. I have never visited an orphanage, even in the U.S., so really wasn’t sure what to expect. The compound, for lack of better words, includes some rooms for schools, an office, a computer lab, a storage room, kitchen, bathrooms, showers, two story girls dorm as well as a two-story boys dorm. Outside there is a water pump; although I’m not sure if it’s water that the children can drink. There is a porch area outside of the boys dorm, and this is where the babies were kept on both my first and second trip to the orphanage. On my third trip, I asked where they were and I was told “they are in school.” I’m not sure what a 4 month old is going to learn in school with 5 and 6 years old….and never actually saw them in the classrooms.
The compound has a few scraggly dogs and right now a new litter of puppies. They originally got the dogs for protection. At night there are no lights. A few weeks ago some people came into the compound and the dogs alerted the volunteers. Unfortunately, the thieves got away with about 200 chickens that are held in pens behind the buildings. Can you imagine? Stealing from an orphanage!!! There aren’t many people lower than that!
Last week when I went to the orphanage, all of the kids were in the classrooms. Except my buddy, Yakamo (Yak-uh-moe). Yakamo (spelling?) is about two years old and is always looking for an adult to hold him. He is so cute! There were some girls (20 years oldish) by the fire getting ready to cook some lunch and I asked them why Yakamo wasn’t in school like the rest of the kids and they answered, “He’s stubborn.” I watched one of the girls pick up this huge 10 gallon plastic container that read “vegetable oil” and pour it into one of the large pots on the open fire. It was unlike any vegetable oil I’ve ever seen as it was a dark orange color. On the ledge next to me was a big bowl of what appeared to be tomato sauce, and the flies were bombarding the liquidy substance! The tomato sauce was added to the vegetable oil and the girl had a 5 ft. wood pole that she used to stir the concoction. When I asked what they were cooking, I was told, “red soup.”
About some of the kids….
Jonathan is the oldest orphan, and he appears to be in charge in terms of the children. He’s a handsome young man, about 16 or 17 years old. I think he is scheduled to attend high school next year; one of five who will be going to a private high school, if enough funds are raised. It costs approximately $1,000 USD for a child to attend high school as they are also boarded at the school.
The first time I went to the orphanage there was this sad little boy, Joshua . He had just arrived a couple of weeks before. I would guess his age at about four. He clung to Michele, and she carried him around for what seemed like hours. At one point, I was sitting on a bench and he came over and just stood between my legs. He looked so scared and alone. I took his picture several times, and was finally able to get a smile out of him. Unfortunately, like many of the younger children, he has a very limited English vocabulary. Whenever he wants something, he taps my leg and points.
One little boy was found in a river, and apparently he had been there for quite some time; about three days. Because of the water damage, his skin just peeled off, and it was evidently a very painful process for him to recover. He is deaf, and the doctors believe that is a result of his being submerged for so long.
Michele’s son, Stone, decided he would show the children a magic trick. Stone is just 11 years old himself. He has a little contraption whereby you put cedi bills inside before you demonstrate the trick. Then, he takes a blank piece of paper and rolls it into the machine, and voila….on the other side, out comes money! The kids thought this was incredible and kept asking him to do it again…and again…and again. They wanted him to leave the machine. I really think most of the kids really thought he was making money, and if that was the case, why couldn’t he just leave it with them and then all of their money troubles would be over.
A couple of times we have stopped at a market and picked up some fruit to take with us. The second time we took some watermelon, and was a fruit that the kids had never tried, as it is expensive in relation to pineapples, mangos, and oranges. They LOVED the watermelon. Many of the kids would come up to me, tap my leg, and point to the watermelon, wanting more!
When I arrived at the orphanage last week, school was in session. After milling around with Yakamo and the cooks, I went into one of the classrooms where Jennifer was attempting a short lesson on dinosaurs. The problem was that these kids had no idea what a dinosaur was or looked like. Jennifer was trying to draw a picture up on the chalkboard, but you could tell the kids didn’t really get it. I was sitting in the back row, observing, and then pulled out my Blackberry and pulled up a picture of a dinosaur. The boys, in particular, were fascinated, and wanted to know if I had ever seen one. They simply had no concept of the lesson.
After showing them pictures of a variety of dinosaurs, I then got requests for pictures of other animals – zebra, horse, elephant, and a hawk. THEN, they wanted to know if I knew who Michael Jackson was and if I had a picture of him. I found one of those, and then they wanted to see a video of him dancing. I tried to pull one up, but the connection was simply too slow for that. I had 10-12 kids surrounding me, and it was getting pretty warm. When I mentioned it was hot, this one boy made everyone get away and then he started fanning me. It made me laugh!
I did wonder why these kids had never seen a picture of a dinosaur since they have a computer lab that was donated by Newmont. I’m pretty sure they have internet access (at least the office does). The teachers are local Ghanaians, and basically write things up on the chalkboard and the students copy it on their paper. VERY basic education, and frankly, it appeared that there was very little learning going on, including copying!
Adoption is not culturally acceptable in Ghana, which leaves these children with little chance of being adopted. Jennifer told Michele and I a story about a friend of hers from Canada (Danielle, I think) who was interested in adopting twin girls that arrived at the orphanage a couple of years ago. The children’s mother had died in childbirth and the father was quite elderly. A son from a previous marriage attended the funeral and determined the children were not being well taken care of as they were obviously malnourished. He took the children to the orphanage when they were about a week or two old.
Jennifer took pictures of the babies and sent them to Danielle, who quickly told her she and her husband wanted to adopt the babies. While the Ghanaian government quickly approved the adoption, getting the Canadian government approval was much more difficult as they try to make sure the children are protected. In other words, they are more proactive in deterring child trafficking. Danielle brought her five year old child and her mother to Ghana to begin the adoption process. She immediately went to the orphanage and picked up the babies.
The Canadian government required a birth certificate, which seems simple, right? Well, these children were born in a remote village in the northern region of Ghana. There was no birth certificate. Being desperate, she found someone who was willing to produce a birth certificate, but when she presented it to the Canadian government, they found several obvious mistakes (dates, etc.). This threw up red flags, and likely extended the time in which it took to adopt the children. After one full year, Danielle and her husband were able to adopt the babies. She spent the entire year in Ghana, sending her mother and son back after a few months. Her husband and son flew to Ghana for Christmas,
After more than a year, the babies were officially adopted by Danielle and her husband. Living in Accra is not cheap. During the year long process, she and her husband put thousands of dollars into the adoption. They almost lost their house in Canada as they took out a second mortgage. I was told that the process would likely be easier for couples from America as the U.S. doesn’t have the strict child trafficking law like Canada.
Now, if you’re thinking this is one of the saddest stories ever, I want you to think about something. The Royal Seed School is one of the more fortunate schools. They have a woman in charge dedicated to what she’s doing, and who is an aggressive fundraiser. According to Jennifer, the orphanage has made tremendous progress in the three years in which she has been involved. There are many, many other orphanages where children are living in much worse conditions. The children I’ve seen are well taken care. One of the primary things lacking in their lives is the personal touch of another human being, and at this point in my journey in Africa….that’s what I’m able to give.
(More pictures will follow once I get back to Ghana.)
Thursday, May 5, 2011
A Day of Reflection
Easter Sunday, Dave and I skyped with some of our family gathered in Colorado. Everyone was around Amy and Tony’s dining room table. It was a little hard to hear everyone, and the picture was pretty blurry, but I was delighted that there is technology available that will allow us to stay in touch the way we do.
My mom asked me one question, “Do you like it there?” It’s funny….I just didn’t know what to say. And frankly, I’m still not sure if I know how to answer the question. I know I don’t hate it, and I know I don’t love it….but I’m not sure if I like it. The cultural experts all call the first four months of an overseas assignment, “the honeymoon period.” Things are new, exciting, and you are learning lots of new things, both at work and at home. Typically, after the first four months and a nice R&R leave, there is a big downward dip in feelings and emotions. I’m just dreading that period, but hoping that by recognizing it, will be able to keep it at bay.
As of yesterday, Dave and I have been in Ghana for one full month. As I woke up this morning, I decided to reflect on our experiences in the last 30 days.
Prior to our move to Ghana, one of the expat spouses told me, “your house is your sanctuary. It is the place you go to remove yourself from the foreign culture all around you. So, make sure you bring the things that give you comfort.” As much as I tried to take her advice to heart, now that I am in Ghana, I can more fully appreciate her guidance.
With that in mind, I’m trying to remember all of what I put in our sea container! I began putting things in piles back in February, and it was packed into a truck the first week of March. I know that I left some very critical things behind, just not thinking it would be necessary, or that I could find it in Accra. If I had any piece of advice to give to someone new coming in, I would say….don’t listen to your husband, listen to the expat spouses! They are a wealth of knowledge. Sorry honey, but I don’t know how many times I would say, “Do you think I should take X, Y, or Z?” And you would say, “I’m sure you can get it over there.” It doesn’t matter if you think you can get it over here. If there is any doubt, take it with you! Chances are that: 1) you can’t find it; 2) it will be lower quality; 3) if it’s food, it will taste differently; 4) it will be three times as expensive; and 5) you won’t have many choices.
Making our home a home. Our sea container was scheduled to arrive in port on April 23rd, but we have not heard a word about it. We haven’t been too aggressive in finding out more, as we won’t be able to begin the process for accessing it until after we return from the states at the end of May. Once the sea container arrives in port, we have to send Dave’s passport to customs, and they could have it for a number of weeks. Since he’s flying to Denver on May 19th, he can’t risk not getting his passport back in time. In addition, if you will recall in one of my earlier blogs, Dave’s Visa had expired and so he has a temporary 30 day Visa right now. When we get to Denver in a couple of weeks, the ball will get rolling and he’s expected to get a 5-year Visa prior to returning to Accra. In the meantime, the sea container is on hold until Dave returns to Ghana on May 29th. Hopefully, by the time I fly back in mid-June the sea container will have arrived, and all customs issues resolved (I’m not holding my breath, though). Our townhouse is so not our “home” yet, and I hope that when we get our own things, that will change. At this point, the only things that are ours, are our clothes and a beautiful quilt. I want to change our drapes, often see things I’d like to buy for the walls, but I’m just holding off. I want to get OUR things into the house and settled, and then work around those colors and items. June will be a fun house decorating month! Hang onto your wallet, Dave!
In the minority. Being a minority is new for us. While there are white people in Ghana, we are far outnumbered. With that being said, I rarely feel uncomfortable or out of place. In most of the grocery stores, the majority of the customers are Caucasian, while the clerks, butchers, and workers are black. At the mall, they are primarily black. In the city, I don’t really notice people staring at me, but when we leave the city and move into the village areas….now that’s when we get the stares. Like I said in my “funeral” blog, I just think they are curious as they don’t often see white people. I have in no way faced “reverse discrimination.”
Lack of Independence. I really get frustrated with not being able to drive myself around. Dave has been out of town all week, and so I’ve been alone (and frankly, a little lonely). Fortunately, work, Skype, exercise, a friend, and social networking sites have kept me busy and entertained. But, Tuesday I really wanted to go to the gym and the store to buy my milk, as it only lasts for a day or two on the shelf. Michael was driving back from the mine site, and I know I could have called the driver pool, but I just wasn’t in the mood for the hassle, so I just stayed home. I figured I would just go for a swim; but alas, when I got to the pool it was closed for cleaning. Yesterday, after Michael took me to the gym I had him stop by the store to get the milk….it was gone. So, no yummy American tasting milk for me this week. Not having the freedom to just jump in your car and go is difficult for me. The car is sitting right there in the driveway! I have the keys! I have an American driver’s license! Anyway, that’s one of the biggest frustrations for me – the lack of independence. I suspect Dave's biggest frustrations are work-related, but he'll have to write up his own blog entry!
Traffic. And then there’s the traffic. It’s insane, which is why I almost always put my Kindle into my purse when I leave for the store. It helps pass the time. I don’t think it’s any worse (in its own, distinct, crazy driver sort of way) than a big city in the U.S., but hey….I’m from small town Elko, NV and Douglas, WY where there are no such things as traffic jams. So, as I reflect, I come to the conclusion that the traffic would be an issue no matter to which large city I moved, and so it’s not necessarily a feeling exclusive to Accra.
Preparing meals. As most of you know, I hit the jackpot when I married Dave. I have not been the cook in our house. Very early on in our marriage, Dave made it perfectly clear that he liked to “eat what he cooks.” He didn’t have to say it twice, and I quickly handed over the cooking duties. Those roles have reversed in Accra, and I’m now not only responsible for cooking the meals, but for the planning of them as well. Actually, I’m not finding the actual cooking so difficult, but rather the planning and shopping. I LOVE the allrecipes.com website, as it’s been a lifesaver. However, cooking in Ghana is not as easy as you might think. The fruits and veggies must be eaten rather quickly, as they don’t age well. Not all of the items in the recipe are likely to be at the grocery store at the same time, and less likely to be in my cupboard. I have been slowly adding dry goods to those cupboards in the hopes that at some point I will have more options! Dave has been very gracious and complimentary and I think he’s secretly enjoying walking in and not having to make dinner.
Exercise. I like to exercise, and I worried a lot about what I would be able to find to do in Ghana. No worries here! I have lots of choices beginning with Pippas Fitness, which actually has three locations in our area. One is very close to our house, but I have only gone to the larger one located close to Dave’s office. Check out the website: pippasfitness.com/. It really looks like this! It’s very clean, well taken care of, and by the time I get there in the morning, there is hardly anybody in the gym with me. I have also taken Zumba and Tae Bo classes at this particular gym. We have a swimming pool at our complex, which nobody seems to use. I was able to find a couple pairs of goggles at the store, and Dave and I have been swimming on the weekends. Last week another expat spouse invited Michele and I to “African Dance.” It was held at the Orchids Garden complex just around the corner from us, on a covered porch. For one hour, two men – Bismarck and Kofi – taught us an African Dance. It was the BEST cardio workout, and sweat was pouring off of me. Primarily Kofi played the drums, and Bismarck showed us the moves. It was a great workout, and I plan on going back tomorrow. And today….I did an hour of yoga – at the same complex. I can already tell that I’m going to be a little sore tomorrow. When I get to the end of the four month honeymoon period, I know that the exercising options will serve me well, and hopefully keep me sane and positive!
Friends. Wow! Moving to a foreign country is not easy, but the one thing that can make it easier is to find friends. This one has been huge for me. As you read through my blogs, you will see me refer to Michele often. Michele is a veteran expat spouse, and she navigates well through this foreign culture. I’ve just grabbed onto her shirt, and gone along for the ride! She was the first person I heard from when I moved to Ghana, as she had written me a note to be delivered to us when we arrived. She invited us to pizza on our first night, picked us up, and even brought us some food to get us started. Michele and her husband, Dave, have welcomed us into their home and quickly taught us (or at least me) how to play Texas Hold ‘Em! Michele has taken me all over the city to the various grocery stores, fruit and vegetable stands, pottery, the Art Alliance, the orphanage, the NAWA (North American Women’s Association), African Dance, and Yoga. Without her….I know the last four weeks would have been much more difficult, and quite lonely!
I also consider Julie and Otto our new friends. They not only have invited us into their home, cooking us YUMMY meat from South Africa, taking our money in Texas Hold ‘Em, and serving us many a cocktail, but they are also just genuinely nice people. I don’t know what Otto’s official title is, but he is basically the head of Newmont security for the African operations, and it is very comforting to know he is just two doors down, and always surveying a situation in terms of safety. Julie is the ultimate extrovert, and could probably convince Puxatawney Phil to come out of his hole in the middle of a blizzard in January! Her laugh is contagious, and her smile says it all.
In putting my reflections into words, I see that there are both positives and negatives, but I would have to say that the positives outweigh the negatives. The month has given me pause, and allowed me to think about the little things we ALL take for granted: drinking out of the faucet, finding what you need in one location, TV, running to Taco Bell when you don’t feel like cooking, sitting outside in the evenings, going for a walk, seeing the stars, a comfy pillow, and my family.
But, at the end of the day, all one needs to do is visit the Royal Seed School outside of Kasau to get a little perspective. This is an orphanage where approximately 120 children live day in and day out. They subsist on the most minimal of food, compared to our standards. While they are well taken care of, it is obvious that they miss out on the day to day physical contact of a parent with their child, as the younger children cling to the adults – no matter who they are! The orphanage is a whole other blog, and one that will take a little bit of time to write. I got some wonderful pictures today, and hopefully they will help me tell their story.
But, until then….yes mom, I think I do like it here. Thanks for asking!
My mom asked me one question, “Do you like it there?” It’s funny….I just didn’t know what to say. And frankly, I’m still not sure if I know how to answer the question. I know I don’t hate it, and I know I don’t love it….but I’m not sure if I like it. The cultural experts all call the first four months of an overseas assignment, “the honeymoon period.” Things are new, exciting, and you are learning lots of new things, both at work and at home. Typically, after the first four months and a nice R&R leave, there is a big downward dip in feelings and emotions. I’m just dreading that period, but hoping that by recognizing it, will be able to keep it at bay.
As of yesterday, Dave and I have been in Ghana for one full month. As I woke up this morning, I decided to reflect on our experiences in the last 30 days.
Prior to our move to Ghana, one of the expat spouses told me, “your house is your sanctuary. It is the place you go to remove yourself from the foreign culture all around you. So, make sure you bring the things that give you comfort.” As much as I tried to take her advice to heart, now that I am in Ghana, I can more fully appreciate her guidance.
With that in mind, I’m trying to remember all of what I put in our sea container! I began putting things in piles back in February, and it was packed into a truck the first week of March. I know that I left some very critical things behind, just not thinking it would be necessary, or that I could find it in Accra. If I had any piece of advice to give to someone new coming in, I would say….don’t listen to your husband, listen to the expat spouses! They are a wealth of knowledge. Sorry honey, but I don’t know how many times I would say, “Do you think I should take X, Y, or Z?” And you would say, “I’m sure you can get it over there.” It doesn’t matter if you think you can get it over here. If there is any doubt, take it with you! Chances are that: 1) you can’t find it; 2) it will be lower quality; 3) if it’s food, it will taste differently; 4) it will be three times as expensive; and 5) you won’t have many choices.
Making our home a home. Our sea container was scheduled to arrive in port on April 23rd, but we have not heard a word about it. We haven’t been too aggressive in finding out more, as we won’t be able to begin the process for accessing it until after we return from the states at the end of May. Once the sea container arrives in port, we have to send Dave’s passport to customs, and they could have it for a number of weeks. Since he’s flying to Denver on May 19th, he can’t risk not getting his passport back in time. In addition, if you will recall in one of my earlier blogs, Dave’s Visa had expired and so he has a temporary 30 day Visa right now. When we get to Denver in a couple of weeks, the ball will get rolling and he’s expected to get a 5-year Visa prior to returning to Accra. In the meantime, the sea container is on hold until Dave returns to Ghana on May 29th. Hopefully, by the time I fly back in mid-June the sea container will have arrived, and all customs issues resolved (I’m not holding my breath, though). Our townhouse is so not our “home” yet, and I hope that when we get our own things, that will change. At this point, the only things that are ours, are our clothes and a beautiful quilt. I want to change our drapes, often see things I’d like to buy for the walls, but I’m just holding off. I want to get OUR things into the house and settled, and then work around those colors and items. June will be a fun house decorating month! Hang onto your wallet, Dave!
In the minority. Being a minority is new for us. While there are white people in Ghana, we are far outnumbered. With that being said, I rarely feel uncomfortable or out of place. In most of the grocery stores, the majority of the customers are Caucasian, while the clerks, butchers, and workers are black. At the mall, they are primarily black. In the city, I don’t really notice people staring at me, but when we leave the city and move into the village areas….now that’s when we get the stares. Like I said in my “funeral” blog, I just think they are curious as they don’t often see white people. I have in no way faced “reverse discrimination.”
Lack of Independence. I really get frustrated with not being able to drive myself around. Dave has been out of town all week, and so I’ve been alone (and frankly, a little lonely). Fortunately, work, Skype, exercise, a friend, and social networking sites have kept me busy and entertained. But, Tuesday I really wanted to go to the gym and the store to buy my milk, as it only lasts for a day or two on the shelf. Michael was driving back from the mine site, and I know I could have called the driver pool, but I just wasn’t in the mood for the hassle, so I just stayed home. I figured I would just go for a swim; but alas, when I got to the pool it was closed for cleaning. Yesterday, after Michael took me to the gym I had him stop by the store to get the milk….it was gone. So, no yummy American tasting milk for me this week. Not having the freedom to just jump in your car and go is difficult for me. The car is sitting right there in the driveway! I have the keys! I have an American driver’s license! Anyway, that’s one of the biggest frustrations for me – the lack of independence. I suspect Dave's biggest frustrations are work-related, but he'll have to write up his own blog entry!
Traffic. And then there’s the traffic. It’s insane, which is why I almost always put my Kindle into my purse when I leave for the store. It helps pass the time. I don’t think it’s any worse (in its own, distinct, crazy driver sort of way) than a big city in the U.S., but hey….I’m from small town Elko, NV and Douglas, WY where there are no such things as traffic jams. So, as I reflect, I come to the conclusion that the traffic would be an issue no matter to which large city I moved, and so it’s not necessarily a feeling exclusive to Accra.
Preparing meals. As most of you know, I hit the jackpot when I married Dave. I have not been the cook in our house. Very early on in our marriage, Dave made it perfectly clear that he liked to “eat what he cooks.” He didn’t have to say it twice, and I quickly handed over the cooking duties. Those roles have reversed in Accra, and I’m now not only responsible for cooking the meals, but for the planning of them as well. Actually, I’m not finding the actual cooking so difficult, but rather the planning and shopping. I LOVE the allrecipes.com website, as it’s been a lifesaver. However, cooking in Ghana is not as easy as you might think. The fruits and veggies must be eaten rather quickly, as they don’t age well. Not all of the items in the recipe are likely to be at the grocery store at the same time, and less likely to be in my cupboard. I have been slowly adding dry goods to those cupboards in the hopes that at some point I will have more options! Dave has been very gracious and complimentary and I think he’s secretly enjoying walking in and not having to make dinner.
Exercise. I like to exercise, and I worried a lot about what I would be able to find to do in Ghana. No worries here! I have lots of choices beginning with Pippas Fitness, which actually has three locations in our area. One is very close to our house, but I have only gone to the larger one located close to Dave’s office. Check out the website: pippasfitness.com/. It really looks like this! It’s very clean, well taken care of, and by the time I get there in the morning, there is hardly anybody in the gym with me. I have also taken Zumba and Tae Bo classes at this particular gym. We have a swimming pool at our complex, which nobody seems to use. I was able to find a couple pairs of goggles at the store, and Dave and I have been swimming on the weekends. Last week another expat spouse invited Michele and I to “African Dance.” It was held at the Orchids Garden complex just around the corner from us, on a covered porch. For one hour, two men – Bismarck and Kofi – taught us an African Dance. It was the BEST cardio workout, and sweat was pouring off of me. Primarily Kofi played the drums, and Bismarck showed us the moves. It was a great workout, and I plan on going back tomorrow. And today….I did an hour of yoga – at the same complex. I can already tell that I’m going to be a little sore tomorrow. When I get to the end of the four month honeymoon period, I know that the exercising options will serve me well, and hopefully keep me sane and positive!
Friends. Wow! Moving to a foreign country is not easy, but the one thing that can make it easier is to find friends. This one has been huge for me. As you read through my blogs, you will see me refer to Michele often. Michele is a veteran expat spouse, and she navigates well through this foreign culture. I’ve just grabbed onto her shirt, and gone along for the ride! She was the first person I heard from when I moved to Ghana, as she had written me a note to be delivered to us when we arrived. She invited us to pizza on our first night, picked us up, and even brought us some food to get us started. Michele and her husband, Dave, have welcomed us into their home and quickly taught us (or at least me) how to play Texas Hold ‘Em! Michele has taken me all over the city to the various grocery stores, fruit and vegetable stands, pottery, the Art Alliance, the orphanage, the NAWA (North American Women’s Association), African Dance, and Yoga. Without her….I know the last four weeks would have been much more difficult, and quite lonely!
I also consider Julie and Otto our new friends. They not only have invited us into their home, cooking us YUMMY meat from South Africa, taking our money in Texas Hold ‘Em, and serving us many a cocktail, but they are also just genuinely nice people. I don’t know what Otto’s official title is, but he is basically the head of Newmont security for the African operations, and it is very comforting to know he is just two doors down, and always surveying a situation in terms of safety. Julie is the ultimate extrovert, and could probably convince Puxatawney Phil to come out of his hole in the middle of a blizzard in January! Her laugh is contagious, and her smile says it all.
In putting my reflections into words, I see that there are both positives and negatives, but I would have to say that the positives outweigh the negatives. The month has given me pause, and allowed me to think about the little things we ALL take for granted: drinking out of the faucet, finding what you need in one location, TV, running to Taco Bell when you don’t feel like cooking, sitting outside in the evenings, going for a walk, seeing the stars, a comfy pillow, and my family.
But, at the end of the day, all one needs to do is visit the Royal Seed School outside of Kasau to get a little perspective. This is an orphanage where approximately 120 children live day in and day out. They subsist on the most minimal of food, compared to our standards. While they are well taken care of, it is obvious that they miss out on the day to day physical contact of a parent with their child, as the younger children cling to the adults – no matter who they are! The orphanage is a whole other blog, and one that will take a little bit of time to write. I got some wonderful pictures today, and hopefully they will help me tell their story.
But, until then….yes mom, I think I do like it here. Thanks for asking!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Funeral and Golf Anyone?
Having been in the country for less than four weeks, we have already attended our first funeral. Isaac is Ghanaian and works for Dave as the Manager of Labor Relations. Last week he invited Dave and me to his Uncle’s funeral. Odd, I thought, but have since discovered that we will likely be invited to many weddings and funerals during our time in Africa. Evidently, for Isaac it would be viewed as a very important status symbol to have, not only his boss, but his “obruni” (white) boss, attend the funeral.
So, on a sunny Saturday morning we headed off to a small village outside of Takoradi, which is the Capital of the Western Region. May 1st is a Ghanaian holiday, and is a celebration of May Day. Since May 1st fell on a Sunday, it was celebrated on Monday. (We’ve been here for a month and Dave’s already had three holidays!) Otto and Julie (fellow Newmont employees, Cantonment Garden neighbors, and our new friends) made the journey with us.
After about a three hour drive west (past Cape Coast and Elmina, which we had visited the previous weekend), and a stop at a restroom where I actually had to pay 50 pesawas ($.35) for toilet paper, we took a right hand turn down a muddy road towards the village of Dompim where Isaac and his extended family grew up and the funeral would take place.
As usual with my blogs, a little history lesson is in order. Ghanaians live in a matriarchal society, which in the case of this country means that a woman’s brother is ultimately responsible for his nieces and nephews if the husband/father is not able or willing. Isaac was not close to his father, and considered his Uncle Kwesi Benti (aka J.K. Buadi), his father and mentor. Kwesi died on February 9th…and yes, he was buried on April 30th. He lay in state for a period of time, but I didn’t ask much more than that. Frankly, I didn’t want to know!!
In the village, Michael pulled up next to a sidewalk, where he let us out, and several men were awaiting us. Clearly, we were late as the ceremony had already started. We were escorted down a walkway where many women and children were hugging the walls. The children stared at us, which is a natural occurrence for us. All you have to do is smile at them, and they smile in return. They are simply curious, and likely don’t see too many white folks in their neck of the woods. The men who were escorting us work for Newmont (Isaac , in particular) and were assigned to us. We followed them into this porch area that was covered with temporary tents. There were probably 100 people under the tents with the coffin placed at the front of the room.
Dave led us into the “room” where we walked between the coffin and the first row of dignitaries, which included the Chief of Dompim, elders, Omanhene of Wassa Fiase Traditional Council, and respective divisional chiefs. We were told to shake each of their hands as we passed them. This all while EVERYONE was watching us and in the middle of the funeral! We were led to our seats and the service continued. Although English is the official language of Ghana, there are 24 million people comprising over 60 ethnic groups. Fifty two major languages and hundreds of dialects are spoken. Therefore, some of the burial service was spoken in English, and some in Twi (tree), the most common tribal language.
We heard from what I think was one of the sons, as well as one of his grandsons. Next, the preacher got up to say a few words, but he delivered it in the local language, so I have no idea what he said. There were lots of “Amens” and “Hallelujahs!!”
After the sermon, we could hear men outside of the area in which we were sitting beginning to chant/sing moving towards the coffin. I don’t know who they were, specifically, but a few were in military dress. They surrounded the coffin and danced around it while singing. To the left of where we were sitting, a band was situated. They began to play and the men picked up the coffin and began to proceed out towards the street. We were on our way to the gravesite.
One of the men who was accompanying us, Kofi, explained that we didn’t need to go to the gravesite, but we said we came all this way, we might as well see the whole service. He told us that he would have our cars brought over and we could drive, but we insisted that we could walk, muddy or not! So, out we go, following a walking procession towards the grave. It was just outside of the village – maybe 300 or 400 feet and off the road slightly. Remember, we are in Ghana so there is no piece of equipment that effortlessly places the coffin into the ground after the mourners have left the site. In Ghana, the pall bearers basically drop the coffin into the grave and it makes a loud noise. However, there was a slight problem. The coffin was bigger than the grave!! There was much talk, and I saw someone leave to run back to the village to get something to widen the grave.
I never actually saw what happened, but I suspect that they just started digging with their hands, and about 5-10 minutes, you heard this loud BAM! There was a cheer. Kwesi Benti was officially buried. In the meantime, there was a woman just wailing away. Again, I have no idea what she was shouting, but she was clearly upset. Kofi explained to us that it’s rare to see crying at Ghanaian funerals, in particular at a funeral of an 84 year old man. The life expectancy of Ghanaians is quite low, therefore, a man who lives to be 84 years is considered quite blessed and the funeral is a cause for celebration. This particular gentleman was obviously very loved, revered, and honored.
Back we went to the village and the reception. As we walked back under the tents, Dave introduced himself to the members of the band, and we even got a picture of them (and him). The pictures are on his blackberry as I forgot to grab my camera before we exited our vehicles. I’ll post them later. Kofi then took the four of us into a room with fans, couches, access to a restroom, and where were served cold water and soda. We were the first brought into the room and then little by little additional people were brought in. We met the Chairman of the Lands Commission for Ghana and a couple of people who worked for him throughout the country. Basically, this room was for the dignitaries and special guests. Most of the men were dressed in traditional cloth, and the pictures will better describe their clothing.
Outside of the room, the band started playing and a party ensued. We were eventually offered a variety of alcoholic beverages and food. Dave ate some meat on a stick….and swears he was still flossing it out of his teeth days later. I ate some of the rice (very spicy), noodles, and cabbage. Julie had this big, scary looking fish on her plate. She said once you got through the look of it on the outside, the meat was good. Otto….well, Otto just kept to the alcohol!
After what seemed to be an appropriate time, we took our leave, and dropped off our donation at the table outside of the room. Yep, in Ghana you basically pay to attend a funeral! Ha ha! Actually, it is the Ghanaian tradition for people who attend a funeral to provide a monetary donation to help offset the expenses, and we were happy to do so. As I turned to look back at the room we were so generously placed in, I witnessed dozens of people piling into the room! It appeared they were just waiting for the Obruni’s to leave. I probably don’t really to say this, but I will….we were THE only white people in the entire village.
On to Planter’s Lodge located in Takoradi and our final weekend destination. Here is a link to their website. www.planterslodge.com/ I told my sister that in my short time in Ghana I have already learned to lower my expectations. Pictures just simply don’t tell the whole story, and to some extent, this was true of the Planter’s Lodge. However, I will preface my story with saying that our rooms were very clean, had great water pressure, the pillows were comfy, and I’ve slept on harder beds (Newmont Guest House). The picture of the pool is really what it looks like. It’s a nice pool and very clean all around it. I just don’t think you can truly appreciate the setting until you are sitting there at 10 or 11 at night and the humidity and heat is just bearing down on you. You rarely escape the intensity of the climate here.
I like the picture of the front of the lodge. In some ways it really does look like that, but I have yet to see any semblance of a sunset or sunrise here in Ghana, so I would have love to have been there the day they took that picture. Our room was nothing like the one in the picture. This must have been the “Executive Room,” as ours was a very small room with a bed that only Matt Roloff could appreciate! Dave’s feet hung over the edge – really! Julie and Otto said their bed was standard size, so I’m not sure what happened with our room. Regardless, we spent very little time in our room and it was fine for what we used it for. Again….CLEAN! That’s the key.
After cleaning up and taking a little rest, we headed off to meet Peter, who is a former Newmont employee from Australia that worked with Julie out at the mine site and now lives in Takoradi with his Ghanaian wife and children. It sounds like he owns a pilot car business. Peter was kind enough to put down the deposit for our rooms, as we didn’t want to give our credit card information over the phone. We had a drink with Peter, paid him for the deposit, and then went to dinner at Tilly’s, a local expat favorite bar and restaurant. When we walked in it was as dark as a cave! There were very few lights – most were from the signs that were lit up around the bar! We had to use our cell phones just to read the menus! It was so funny…..or maybe it was just the drinks that made it so hilarious.
Dave and I ordered a meat pizza, and were a little nervous that there was a reason the lighting was so bad. Not to worry, the pizza was fine and in fact, the outside crust was really tasty. Peter, his wife Monica, and his friends all showed up at the restaurant, and we proceeded to drink quite a bit. No…not us! We ended up driving to another place where we had a nightcap (Tony Hilim), before making it back to our room. Just an aside here….Michael and Peter (Otto’s driver) are always available so we ALWAYS have a designated driver!!
The next morning dawned, and after breakfast we took off for the Takoradi Golf Course. This picture is of the “club house.”
Dave and I were able to rent clubs. In Ghana there are no golf carts. You walk the entire course. OK, before you start feeling too bad for us, here’s the deal. You also have caddies, who carry your clubs, your water, help you pick your club, provide you with toe wedges, and place your balls on nice tufts of grass, if necessary. In addition, there is a caddy that is out in front of the pack who follows the balls and finds it if it lands in the brush. Believe me….you don’t want to go in the elephant grass….there might be a snake in there!!
These are four of our caddies – Joseph (mine), Francis (Dave’s), Emmanuel (Julie’s), and I didn’t catch the name of Otto’s caddy. We paid them 5 cedis each for their services. Alex was the caddy out in front looking for the balls. He was quite a character and would dance down the fairway and then raise his hand when he located a ball. By the way, this is the "fairway" with the ocean scene in the background.
Joseph was a nice young man and I asked several questions of him. He is 16 years old, goes to school, and works at the golf course almost every day. He wants to be a mechanic when he grows up. He is the big brother and has a younger brother and sister. He was very curious about where I was from and why I was in Takoradi. Also, he wanted to know if I was going to come back as he would be happy to caddy for me!
This is not your typical golf course. First, the tee boxes leave a lot to be desired, but how can you argue with the background – the Atlantic Ocean. The fairways barely have grass on them, and the ball could easily drop into a hole of no return. But, NOTHING will prepare you for the greens. They are not green. They are in no way, shape, or form, a green. They are a fine black sand. No, really. They are sand greens. I can't seem to get the picture to upload, but will definitely put them on my facebook page.
The caddies would use this burlap looking sack to smooth out the line between your ball and the hole prior to putting. Otto had the best approach in that he just slammed the ball into the back of the hole eliminating any and all need for reading the breaks. Again, no picture here, but I'll get them on facebook so you know what I'm talking about.
After the 5th hole, we stopped into the clubhouse to sit down and drink a beer and a bottle of water. We were exhausted. You just can’t imagine how the heat and humidity can take it out of you. We were all sweating buckets! After a break, off we went for the final four holes. Walking up to the 8th green, we had to cross a bridge. As I so often find myself saying in these blogs….I use the term “bridge” loosely. This would in no way satisfy any kind of OSHA regulations. These were just planks lying over a ditch that smelled like a big ole toilet. We moved quickly.
Dave decided to take a picture of Otto teeing off on the last hole, again with the ocean behind him….and the man clearly taking a leak in the background. Fortunately, Dave was just a little slow on the camera, and wasn’t able to get the picture. I think that picture would have spoken volumes about life in Ghana!
Joseph and I kept my score in our heads together as there was no scorecard provided. I hit a 41 on the Takoradi Golf Course – my best score ever. The course is very short, and I did have a couple of toe wedges, but I actually golfed really well and was pleased with the day. I’m not sure if I could physically golf 18 holes in the middle of the day like we did. Nine holes were plenty.
Later that night we went to dinner at Capt’n Hooks, a seafood restaurant. Otto and Julie ordered a Lobster dish, which could have fed the entire table, plus their extended families! Dave ordered King Prawns. I’m not a seafood connoisseur, (I don’t even like seafood), but I was told that the seafood was delicious. My cordon bleu was good and French fries (or chips, as they call them in Ghana) were good and my salad was so crisp – again, something unusual over here.
After dinner we returned to our respective rooms. We flipped through the extensive seven channels available and settled on game show….”Who Wants to Be Rich,” the Ghanaian version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.” Again, we found ourselves rolling in laughter. If only I could find that exact episode and make each and every one of you watch it – you would know exactly what it’s like to live and work in Ghana! I did, however, find the following clip that will give a taste -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZm4bfxW5YQ
While it’s not the exact same episode, it will give you a good idea of how Ghanaians communicate. They are often noncommittal, rather quiet, and have difficulty understanding questions. He and I were bent over in laughter, especially when the guy tries to “phone a friend.” I can’t begin to convey the humor we found in the show, but I can guarantee everyone that when you next see Dave, he can provide a blow by blow re-enactment that will have you rolling!
There are lots of stories I could share, but not really sure they are blog-appropriate. Regardless, we enjoyed our weekend out of town, allowing us to experience a little more of the Ghanaian culture, and still finding a little pleasure in things we enjoy doing in the states; in particular, golf. Even though it was hotter than HADES!!
I’m back to the orphanage tomorrow. I promise, I will put my thoughts together about this most important place soon.
So, on a sunny Saturday morning we headed off to a small village outside of Takoradi, which is the Capital of the Western Region. May 1st is a Ghanaian holiday, and is a celebration of May Day. Since May 1st fell on a Sunday, it was celebrated on Monday. (We’ve been here for a month and Dave’s already had three holidays!) Otto and Julie (fellow Newmont employees, Cantonment Garden neighbors, and our new friends) made the journey with us.
After about a three hour drive west (past Cape Coast and Elmina, which we had visited the previous weekend), and a stop at a restroom where I actually had to pay 50 pesawas ($.35) for toilet paper, we took a right hand turn down a muddy road towards the village of Dompim where Isaac and his extended family grew up and the funeral would take place.
As usual with my blogs, a little history lesson is in order. Ghanaians live in a matriarchal society, which in the case of this country means that a woman’s brother is ultimately responsible for his nieces and nephews if the husband/father is not able or willing. Isaac was not close to his father, and considered his Uncle Kwesi Benti (aka J.K. Buadi), his father and mentor. Kwesi died on February 9th…and yes, he was buried on April 30th. He lay in state for a period of time, but I didn’t ask much more than that. Frankly, I didn’t want to know!!
In the village, Michael pulled up next to a sidewalk, where he let us out, and several men were awaiting us. Clearly, we were late as the ceremony had already started. We were escorted down a walkway where many women and children were hugging the walls. The children stared at us, which is a natural occurrence for us. All you have to do is smile at them, and they smile in return. They are simply curious, and likely don’t see too many white folks in their neck of the woods. The men who were escorting us work for Newmont (Isaac , in particular) and were assigned to us. We followed them into this porch area that was covered with temporary tents. There were probably 100 people under the tents with the coffin placed at the front of the room.
Dave led us into the “room” where we walked between the coffin and the first row of dignitaries, which included the Chief of Dompim, elders, Omanhene of Wassa Fiase Traditional Council, and respective divisional chiefs. We were told to shake each of their hands as we passed them. This all while EVERYONE was watching us and in the middle of the funeral! We were led to our seats and the service continued. Although English is the official language of Ghana, there are 24 million people comprising over 60 ethnic groups. Fifty two major languages and hundreds of dialects are spoken. Therefore, some of the burial service was spoken in English, and some in Twi (tree), the most common tribal language.
We heard from what I think was one of the sons, as well as one of his grandsons. Next, the preacher got up to say a few words, but he delivered it in the local language, so I have no idea what he said. There were lots of “Amens” and “Hallelujahs!!”
After the sermon, we could hear men outside of the area in which we were sitting beginning to chant/sing moving towards the coffin. I don’t know who they were, specifically, but a few were in military dress. They surrounded the coffin and danced around it while singing. To the left of where we were sitting, a band was situated. They began to play and the men picked up the coffin and began to proceed out towards the street. We were on our way to the gravesite.
One of the men who was accompanying us, Kofi, explained that we didn’t need to go to the gravesite, but we said we came all this way, we might as well see the whole service. He told us that he would have our cars brought over and we could drive, but we insisted that we could walk, muddy or not! So, out we go, following a walking procession towards the grave. It was just outside of the village – maybe 300 or 400 feet and off the road slightly. Remember, we are in Ghana so there is no piece of equipment that effortlessly places the coffin into the ground after the mourners have left the site. In Ghana, the pall bearers basically drop the coffin into the grave and it makes a loud noise. However, there was a slight problem. The coffin was bigger than the grave!! There was much talk, and I saw someone leave to run back to the village to get something to widen the grave.
I never actually saw what happened, but I suspect that they just started digging with their hands, and about 5-10 minutes, you heard this loud BAM! There was a cheer. Kwesi Benti was officially buried. In the meantime, there was a woman just wailing away. Again, I have no idea what she was shouting, but she was clearly upset. Kofi explained to us that it’s rare to see crying at Ghanaian funerals, in particular at a funeral of an 84 year old man. The life expectancy of Ghanaians is quite low, therefore, a man who lives to be 84 years is considered quite blessed and the funeral is a cause for celebration. This particular gentleman was obviously very loved, revered, and honored.
Back we went to the village and the reception. As we walked back under the tents, Dave introduced himself to the members of the band, and we even got a picture of them (and him). The pictures are on his blackberry as I forgot to grab my camera before we exited our vehicles. I’ll post them later. Kofi then took the four of us into a room with fans, couches, access to a restroom, and where were served cold water and soda. We were the first brought into the room and then little by little additional people were brought in. We met the Chairman of the Lands Commission for Ghana and a couple of people who worked for him throughout the country. Basically, this room was for the dignitaries and special guests. Most of the men were dressed in traditional cloth, and the pictures will better describe their clothing.
Outside of the room, the band started playing and a party ensued. We were eventually offered a variety of alcoholic beverages and food. Dave ate some meat on a stick….and swears he was still flossing it out of his teeth days later. I ate some of the rice (very spicy), noodles, and cabbage. Julie had this big, scary looking fish on her plate. She said once you got through the look of it on the outside, the meat was good. Otto….well, Otto just kept to the alcohol!
After what seemed to be an appropriate time, we took our leave, and dropped off our donation at the table outside of the room. Yep, in Ghana you basically pay to attend a funeral! Ha ha! Actually, it is the Ghanaian tradition for people who attend a funeral to provide a monetary donation to help offset the expenses, and we were happy to do so. As I turned to look back at the room we were so generously placed in, I witnessed dozens of people piling into the room! It appeared they were just waiting for the Obruni’s to leave. I probably don’t really to say this, but I will….we were THE only white people in the entire village.
On to Planter’s Lodge located in Takoradi and our final weekend destination. Here is a link to their website. www.planterslodge.com/ I told my sister that in my short time in Ghana I have already learned to lower my expectations. Pictures just simply don’t tell the whole story, and to some extent, this was true of the Planter’s Lodge. However, I will preface my story with saying that our rooms were very clean, had great water pressure, the pillows were comfy, and I’ve slept on harder beds (Newmont Guest House). The picture of the pool is really what it looks like. It’s a nice pool and very clean all around it. I just don’t think you can truly appreciate the setting until you are sitting there at 10 or 11 at night and the humidity and heat is just bearing down on you. You rarely escape the intensity of the climate here.
I like the picture of the front of the lodge. In some ways it really does look like that, but I have yet to see any semblance of a sunset or sunrise here in Ghana, so I would have love to have been there the day they took that picture. Our room was nothing like the one in the picture. This must have been the “Executive Room,” as ours was a very small room with a bed that only Matt Roloff could appreciate! Dave’s feet hung over the edge – really! Julie and Otto said their bed was standard size, so I’m not sure what happened with our room. Regardless, we spent very little time in our room and it was fine for what we used it for. Again….CLEAN! That’s the key.
After cleaning up and taking a little rest, we headed off to meet Peter, who is a former Newmont employee from Australia that worked with Julie out at the mine site and now lives in Takoradi with his Ghanaian wife and children. It sounds like he owns a pilot car business. Peter was kind enough to put down the deposit for our rooms, as we didn’t want to give our credit card information over the phone. We had a drink with Peter, paid him for the deposit, and then went to dinner at Tilly’s, a local expat favorite bar and restaurant. When we walked in it was as dark as a cave! There were very few lights – most were from the signs that were lit up around the bar! We had to use our cell phones just to read the menus! It was so funny…..or maybe it was just the drinks that made it so hilarious.
Dave and I ordered a meat pizza, and were a little nervous that there was a reason the lighting was so bad. Not to worry, the pizza was fine and in fact, the outside crust was really tasty. Peter, his wife Monica, and his friends all showed up at the restaurant, and we proceeded to drink quite a bit. No…not us! We ended up driving to another place where we had a nightcap (Tony Hilim), before making it back to our room. Just an aside here….Michael and Peter (Otto’s driver) are always available so we ALWAYS have a designated driver!!
The next morning dawned, and after breakfast we took off for the Takoradi Golf Course. This picture is of the “club house.”
Dave and I were able to rent clubs. In Ghana there are no golf carts. You walk the entire course. OK, before you start feeling too bad for us, here’s the deal. You also have caddies, who carry your clubs, your water, help you pick your club, provide you with toe wedges, and place your balls on nice tufts of grass, if necessary. In addition, there is a caddy that is out in front of the pack who follows the balls and finds it if it lands in the brush. Believe me….you don’t want to go in the elephant grass….there might be a snake in there!!
These are four of our caddies – Joseph (mine), Francis (Dave’s), Emmanuel (Julie’s), and I didn’t catch the name of Otto’s caddy. We paid them 5 cedis each for their services. Alex was the caddy out in front looking for the balls. He was quite a character and would dance down the fairway and then raise his hand when he located a ball. By the way, this is the "fairway" with the ocean scene in the background.
Joseph was a nice young man and I asked several questions of him. He is 16 years old, goes to school, and works at the golf course almost every day. He wants to be a mechanic when he grows up. He is the big brother and has a younger brother and sister. He was very curious about where I was from and why I was in Takoradi. Also, he wanted to know if I was going to come back as he would be happy to caddy for me!
This is not your typical golf course. First, the tee boxes leave a lot to be desired, but how can you argue with the background – the Atlantic Ocean. The fairways barely have grass on them, and the ball could easily drop into a hole of no return. But, NOTHING will prepare you for the greens. They are not green. They are in no way, shape, or form, a green. They are a fine black sand. No, really. They are sand greens. I can't seem to get the picture to upload, but will definitely put them on my facebook page.
The caddies would use this burlap looking sack to smooth out the line between your ball and the hole prior to putting. Otto had the best approach in that he just slammed the ball into the back of the hole eliminating any and all need for reading the breaks. Again, no picture here, but I'll get them on facebook so you know what I'm talking about.
After the 5th hole, we stopped into the clubhouse to sit down and drink a beer and a bottle of water. We were exhausted. You just can’t imagine how the heat and humidity can take it out of you. We were all sweating buckets! After a break, off we went for the final four holes. Walking up to the 8th green, we had to cross a bridge. As I so often find myself saying in these blogs….I use the term “bridge” loosely. This would in no way satisfy any kind of OSHA regulations. These were just planks lying over a ditch that smelled like a big ole toilet. We moved quickly.
Dave decided to take a picture of Otto teeing off on the last hole, again with the ocean behind him….and the man clearly taking a leak in the background. Fortunately, Dave was just a little slow on the camera, and wasn’t able to get the picture. I think that picture would have spoken volumes about life in Ghana!
Joseph and I kept my score in our heads together as there was no scorecard provided. I hit a 41 on the Takoradi Golf Course – my best score ever. The course is very short, and I did have a couple of toe wedges, but I actually golfed really well and was pleased with the day. I’m not sure if I could physically golf 18 holes in the middle of the day like we did. Nine holes were plenty.
Later that night we went to dinner at Capt’n Hooks, a seafood restaurant. Otto and Julie ordered a Lobster dish, which could have fed the entire table, plus their extended families! Dave ordered King Prawns. I’m not a seafood connoisseur, (I don’t even like seafood), but I was told that the seafood was delicious. My cordon bleu was good and French fries (or chips, as they call them in Ghana) were good and my salad was so crisp – again, something unusual over here.
After dinner we returned to our respective rooms. We flipped through the extensive seven channels available and settled on game show….”Who Wants to Be Rich,” the Ghanaian version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.” Again, we found ourselves rolling in laughter. If only I could find that exact episode and make each and every one of you watch it – you would know exactly what it’s like to live and work in Ghana! I did, however, find the following clip that will give a taste -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZm4bfxW5YQ
While it’s not the exact same episode, it will give you a good idea of how Ghanaians communicate. They are often noncommittal, rather quiet, and have difficulty understanding questions. He and I were bent over in laughter, especially when the guy tries to “phone a friend.” I can’t begin to convey the humor we found in the show, but I can guarantee everyone that when you next see Dave, he can provide a blow by blow re-enactment that will have you rolling!
There are lots of stories I could share, but not really sure they are blog-appropriate. Regardless, we enjoyed our weekend out of town, allowing us to experience a little more of the Ghanaian culture, and still finding a little pleasure in things we enjoy doing in the states; in particular, golf. Even though it was hotter than HADES!!
I’m back to the orphanage tomorrow. I promise, I will put my thoughts together about this most important place soon.
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