Saason's Greetings and Best wishes for the New Year!!

Here's wishing you all the best of the festive season.

We will be in Ho for Christmas probably listening to a Togolese band at Chances Hotel. Christmas dinner this year is different as Michael does not have the ingredients to cook his usual sumptuous Christmas dinner.

We travel to Mali via Burkina Faso on the 27th for four weeks and will be at the Desert Festival and hope that the Touaregs don't have too many problems at the time.

Love from Michael and Kiran

Things people carry on their heads (part 2)

It is so natural for Ghanaians to carry things on their heads that when John insisted on taking Michael's rucksack from him, he was not expecting John to carry it on his head! As you can see John was most comfortable with it - who wants aching shoulders??

I am sure one of us will come back to this theme when we have anything interesting to share with you.

Things people carry on their heads (part 1)

The photographs speak for themselves so ........ However, I do want to say that the one I missed is the one that would have said so much. So just imagine it. A motorbike taxi carrying two women behind the driver. Both women were carrying things on their heads and the one at the back had a huge bag of yams. This was on a road that had so many potholes that even VOLPHIG's tro tro was struggling. I just did not manage to get the camera out in time and regret it.

Apologies for the silence from us in November

Well, what can I say??? Some of you already know that I was in London for medical check as VSO said they would prefer any diagnosis to be made in the UK as they did not think that the diagnostic services (the technical side - i.e the machines) were very good.

I was meant to be there for two weeks - that is what I thought - instead ended up staying for 4 weeks. Entirely due to the slowness of the NHS - and of course because they did not think I had anything seriously wrong with me. This is how it turned out in the end - a clean bill of health for me. So great news. Michael spent 4 weeks worrying about me while I spent time with mum, Mukund and Anil over Diwali. I tried so hard not to tell Michael about all the food mum had been cooking over Diwali and this time with my support. I cannot remember the last time I had been able to do that with her. On the days I was not rushing to appointments in Croydon, I met a few friends and family which was great. On Diwali day it snowed!! So the drastic change in the temperatures was a shock to the system.

Sally and Liz (friends/colleagues) from a learning set for Chief Executives, visited us for two weeks. They arrived a day before me and spent two days in Accra. Michael had also just returned from Tamale where he was training/facilitating for VSO. We planned to travel to Ho together the day after I arrived. Unfortunately, my bags did not arrive with the flight so we had to wait another day in Accra. The two of us rested while Sally/Liz went to the coast and then to a football match. Their main purpose of coming over was to support the teachers in the Special Needs classes, in a main stream school in Ho, to be more creative with lesson planning. They worked really hard at it and I think they enjoyed it as did the students and trainee teachers.

Before we knew it, December is upon us. The weather is getting hotter and everyone says the harmattan will be here soon - the hot winds from the desert. It brings a lot of dust so much so that the hills around Ho are not visible! People suffer from sore throats and nose bleeds, not something to look forward to! As I write this blog from an internet cafe, there is huge storm outside. All our clothes will be soaked!

So life is back to normal. My calendar for December is full - and I am travelling a lot so will be really knackered but I am sure that it will be fun. While I was in the UK, VOLPHIG heard the good news - it had received funding for a UN bid that I had supported Francis to write. Some of the travelling will be to set up the project in North Volta Region. Michael will be busy assessing potential partners for an international donor so he will be travelling to different places.

My two penny worth

Having spent the best part of the month staying on and off in Accra, I have been exposed to a continuous TV diet of CNN and football – how sad ­- we see no TV in Ho (thank God) but the lure of satellite TV in a hotel room is just too hard to resist. So it has been a choice between back to back live football games – La Liga, European Champions, Premier etc - there seems to be no limit to Africa’s demand for the beautiful game and the insipid, reactionary and precocious CNN – non stop in yer face election fever Amerikan style, interspersed with the collapse of the world financial systems.Talking heads, ageless skin, glossy hair – pigs in lipstick - pontificate, as flashing numbers on the screen reflect crashing stock markets.

Is this the end of capitalism? How bad is it going to get? City traders jumping from the temples of profit? What amazes me is that all this should come as a surprise and shock to us. We all fell for it – lower taxes, more credit, more money, more choice, more useless things to buy – consumer paradise - casino capitalism and houses that became money making cash cows rather than homes to live in. At dinner parties we bragged about how much our houses were now worth and compared rising values. For the last thirty years we have been seduced, under the spell, living in a palace of illusion – or at least some of us have – let us not forget the majority world. Did we really believe that it could go on forever? We let them sell off the family silver in search of quick gains, we let them roll back the state – we believed them when they told us that there is no alternative. We laughed at loads of money but secretly our greed got the better of us – how appealing to get fat without lifting a finger. A life of illusion, Mickey Mouse, imaginary money.
Meanwhile we have worshipped wealth, the rich, their lifestyles, their weddings, their glamour, their style. Our country has opened it’s doors to money, no questions asked. Successive governments have cosied up to the City, big business – money matters. Did we really deceive ourselves so much, did we really buy into this – having our cake and eating it too? We ignored the signs, the widening gap between the haves and have nots at home, the social meltdown, the poisoning of society and the ruining of our environment, let alone the destabilisation and break down the developing world has been experiencing over the last three decades, the millions living in poverty. Are we really surprised that deregulation did not lead to the market magically regulating itself for the benefit of society rather than individual greed? But then there is no such thing as society – we now live with the consequences of the neoliberalism we so warmly embraced. Yes, we show our concern with our ethical shopping, we save the world with our rock stars, we wear our conscience on our sleeves, but it is not enough. We need to wake up before it is too late - we need a less insane system – one that is not based on greed, fear and never ending growth. Whatever happened to social justice? Every year the rich countries receive far more more from the poor nations than they give in so called aid and development. The money being used to bail out the financial systems is greater than the total debt owed by the developing world plus the amount that the UN estimates is needed to help poor countries tackle climate change (itslf created by the developed world). Moral bankruptcy?

I was so surprised to hear (first hand as it happens from a Labour MP doing a two week VSO “stint” here in Accra) that Gordon Brown’s ratings are on the up because UK voters believe that he is “handling” the crisis well – what!? Are we really that short sighted, myopic or just plain dumb? All those years of “prudence”, read whatever the City bosses say goes. Despair and anger wash over me – outraged from Ho – but then it kind of fades into insignificance – to try and explain to our neighbours, a young couple with two babies, who squat in a half built house, have no work and no running water, the ins and outs of the collapse of the financial markets and what this means for us – no point. The stunning arrogance of this lot has never ceased to amaze me – be it war, education, criminal justice, climate change – I could go on forever –the word games, the deceptions – impression management is all – how stupid do they think we are? Listening to BBC World Service tonight back in the sticks here in Ho, I hear that politicians are not to mention the “R” word – recession - although it now seems that the cat is out of the bag. And to cap it all Machiavelli is called back to the fold – the arch manipulator and puppet master returns. Meanwhile as they fiddle and changer the chairs around, desperate to cling on to any vestige of power, we sink ever deeper into financial and moral bankruptcy - shame upon them!

Back here in the other world, the “event” of the month had to be the launch of “Inclusive” education here in Ho. This was organised to celebrate the opening of the first two classes for children with learning difficulties in a mainstream school. We go there twice a week to support the teacher, Esinam, who is working hard with virtually no resources to provide a stimulating environment for the children. Needless to say she was not even consulted about the launch. Things were planned in Accra by the Special Education Department and we found out at the last minute that there would be no involvement of the actual children themselves as they “would be too hard to manage”. Hard to believe – you would be challenged to make this up! So on the day itself all the officials were sporting “Inclusion” Tee shirts, school children marched through town with a band brandishing placards with slogans saying “Disables are our neighbours”, “Disability is not inability” etc. – but no children with learning difficulties. Kiran, however, made a huge fuss and we did manage to support two of the children to participate in the march and the meeting that followed. So what a morning – the great and the good – in their pristine tee shirts – sat up on the stage, lots of mutual back slapping and of course they received their “T&T” (this is money paid to people to attend workshops, conferences etc even though these same people are usually attending during work time – a real problem here). Social welfare staff did not even bother attending for most of the session but turned up for their free dinner and goody bags. Inclusion my arse!

On the bright side though, Carrie, an American photo journalist living in Ho, started a photography project with the children last week. The session was brilliant and she is also planning to document the activities of the class over the next months. I also spent a day in Accra with Francis from VOLPHIG training print and media journalists on disability awareness. We started the day with an experiential session where participants are given a “temporary” disability (wheelchair, blindfold etc) and have to make their way to the workshop venue. This is a powerful experience that gets people thinking far more than any lecture can. The group was large and boisterous but they engaged with the workshop and this is hopefully a step in the right direction to getting more positive coverage in the media of disability issues. We were also very lucky to have Ida, from Senegal, a journalist with a disability and currently the Communications Officer for the West African Chapter of the Africa Decade of Persons with Disabilities facilitating a session in the afternoon. The struggle goes on!

People of Ghana

Hand Painted Signs of Ghana

Natura

YAM FESTIVAL

The yam festival has just finished here in Ho – a two week long extravaganza that mixes traditional ritual and Christianity together with competitions, community events and an orgy of boozing and street parties. This year also coincided with the fifth anniversary of the “enstoolment” of Agbogbomefia of Asogli State or in other words the coronation of Togbe Afede XIV as Paramount Chief of the Asoglis. So this year by all accounts has been a little bit special. The Togbe is one of the richest men in Ghana with business interests across the world and is also one of the most powerful and respected chiefs in the country, despite some local disputes as to the legitimacy of his chieftaincy.
At the heart of the festival is the celebration of the new yam crop – yam is a staple food here used to make fufu, probably the most popular food here in Ghana. The festival proper begins with vovlowo fe nkeke, which is a celebration and offering to family ancestors. This ancient ritual has now been rolled into All Souls Day and throughout the ceremony we were continually assured that this is not juju. Goats are sacrificed in the Palace and then cooked and eaten by the royal family and guests (veggies excepted!). Protocol is to gather up all the bones which must not be broken or chewed and then carry them in procession to the royal cemetery to be offered to the ancestors. The march was led through the streets by the Asogli warriors in their earth coloured war dress to the accompaniment of drums. The words “funeral weeds” come to mind (for some unknown reason) to describe their dress – the colours are powerful and give off some kind of magical and scary vibe – you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up kind of experience.
This is followed a few days later by Nubabla, the secret purification rites. These are carried out by the warriors (men only) and are strictly off limits. What we did manage to find out was that they gather various herbs and then take them to the cemetery late at night where they perform their rituals. The big party day is Teyuyru or hailing of the new yam. This began in torrential rain (quite appropriate as prayers are said for rain) in a shrine hidden away in a corner of the market where the charcoal sellers work. Libations were poured and prayers said, before the warriors led by one of the Divisional Chiefs set off in single file around the town stopping at various holy places to pour libations. Behind this single line the crowds gathered, kept back by a few warriors, and danced their way to frenzy. It seems like almost the whole town was there, very drunk and in an amazing variety of costumes. My favourite was a very tall young man in a stunning full length red dress who kicked his football up and down the procession. Inevitably there was a lot of fighting and at times sections of the crowd surged forward in wild and unpredictable waves but the buzz was amazing – the energy raw and electric. The procession culminated in a park where the warriors met a delegation of the various Divisional and sub chiefs (still have not got to the bottom exactly as to who is who in the chieftaincy system). The crowds meanwhile kept up the dancing and drinking and all streets in the neighbourhood were blocked – street “jams” in more ways than one.
The next day it seemed that the whole town had a hangover. Lots of shops did not open until really late if at all. Meanwhile back at the Palace the Big Chief, Togbe Afede had finally arrived from Accra to take part in the feasting of the new yam, Dzawuwu. He arrived under a big umbrella to sit in his new gold plated ceremonial chair (imported from China). More goats and chickens were sacrificed and their blood sprinkled throughout the Palace to ward off evil spirits before the new yam was brought forward and duly fed to the Togbe. Two offerings – plain mashed yam and mashed yam cooked in palm oil with eggs. Once the main man had had his fill, the rest of us were offered the new yam. The next few days were taken up with cooking competitions, yam weighing contests and various sporting events until the day when Togbe sat in state to receive congratulations and homage from other Chiefs and the people of Asogli state. This took all day as people lined up with their offerings to pay tribute. Throughout Togbe had to sit there – not allowed to speak, eat or relieve himself. When the final tribute had been paid, Togbe left in procession with drummers and warriors as the party began again. More dancing, more drumming and of course a lot more drinking. For some reason – perhaps a hand down from German colonial times – schnapps is the preferred tipple especially for all things relating to traditional ritual.
The climax of the festival was the Grand Anniversary Durbar of Chiefs held at the Jubilee Park. Togbe’s crew marched through town accompanied by all the other local chiefs – all splendidly decked out in their very best finery and bling under huge ceremonial umbrellas (only the elephants were missing – a suggestion I propose to make to Togbe for next year). Our man, however, prefers a more understated look relying on his natural dignity and elegance, though he did manage a few quick changes of his toga made of traditional cloth throughout the day. This was achieved by his followers surrounding him by a kind of curtain to protect his modesty. Once inside the park the Chiefs and their retinues took their allocated places as the speeches and cultural performances began. All the main political parties were represented and a lot of fine words said about the need for the forthcoming elections to be peaceful. There were guest appearances by the Ashanti royal family – dead impressive – carried on a litter, with his decorative throne carried alongside huge drums and the Togo chiefs (reminded me of school plays) – the three wise men type look – all glittery robes and gold crowns). Togbe himself finally gave his anniversary speech – in Ewe although we managed to get a transcript. Seems like he has a lot of good ideas and plans to uplift his people – so cannot be bad. Suddenly it was all over and off they all marched again. The heavens opened and everyone scattered. Later that evening we were invited back to the Togbe’s new house – a huge white place that looks like it has materialised straight out of Gone with the Wind. We finally got to greet the man, pay our own tribute even. All in all a pretty good bash and cant wait for next year’s festival, especially if he does get those elephants.
Postscript – we discovered a few days later (from our new fan base) that we were on TV – things are lookingup!!

Rollercoaster!!

The last month has gone hurtling past – all in all it has been a real rollercoaster. We started the month going up north to the more remote regions of Volta to do some groundwork for a Volphig bid. Agonising hours in the tro – shake, rattle and roll and covered in red dust. It took three days to get it out of my hair and it looked like a henna job (a touch of the Sufi mystic perhaps..?). By day three we had sussed that we could reduce dust levels by plugging the wheel bases with cloth having come close to an accident when we got the smart idea to shut the windows – no one could see anything as the van filled up with dust in minutes.
We did a number of community consultations – mostly under trees as usual and mostly very positive although one community was very downtrodden and could not understand why anyone would bother to come and ask them what they thought or needed – depressing. The small towns were great – real wild west frontiersville – the Bedford truck rules supreme here with the old Peugeots – making Ho look like the height of sophistication. My kind of place, full of old run down shops, great signs and wonderful wrecks. We also met for lunch and a chat with Togbe Joe who runs an NGO in Jasikan working against child labour and is a Kpetoe chieftain.












On the way back we stopped off to stay the weekend in Wli Agorviefe, a small village on the border with Togo – stepping off point for the Wli Falls, apparently the largest waterfalls in West Africa. We stayed in Waterfall Lodge, run by a “German Coupel”, Sabine and Bernhardt who fell in love with the place in 2002 and set up the lodge. We had a delightful break and managed with great difficulty to climb to the Upper Falls – absolutely magnificent and atmospheric, swathed in cloud and mist. It took us almost two hours on a very steep and slippery path as the rains started, guided by an old, wizened local farmer Walter – in flip flops of course. Thousands of fruit bats cling to the rocky cliff faces, making a strange shrill chirping noise, adding to the mystery of the place. Later on it was great to sit and watch the mountains in the changing light as evening approached from the lodge, sundowner in hand – bliss in Africa!











The next week was spent getting ready to move – negotiations with the landlady from Togo progressed and before we knew it we were planning to move in on the Sunday. Johnson took the bulk of the strain and we roped in as many helping hands as possible. Suddenly it was goodbye to our little house – not really a moment too soon as the flooding has been getting progressively worse although we are sad to leave our neighbourhood. The new house is a palace by comparison – have to say that I do feel guilty – we now have a proper bathroom (one en suite + guest bathroom!), floor tiles, a huge kitchen, veranda and roof terrace to say nothing of the wonderful garden with mango, papaya and guava trees and coconut palms.

The crowning glory for me are the three magnificent traveller palms at the front of the house – wow – from the ridiculous to the sublime – we are very lucky.
Sorting out, meeting the neighbours and adjusting to our new environment – the only downside is the long walk into town – about 40 minutes. The Togolese landlady, Mama Ida, stayed on a few days to see that everything was okay and to supervise the painting crew she had on site – they lived in the garage and painted everything white, literally, including much of the garden. Finally we have the place to ourselves and organised a house warming – crates of minerals, beer, “ice waaaater” and much cooking. It was a nice, mellow afternoon although the children were scared stiff of Carrie’s dad’s white beard and couldn’t go past him, even to get to the roof. Night time brings the amazing cacophony of frogs – and on some days the singing and preaching late into the night of a local evangelical church – home entertainment.
I went to my first football match to see the local team, Homestars, in action against the Black Starlets (the Ghana Youth team). Although posters advertised a 1. 30 pm start, it did not get going until 3.30. It was a whacky game, local characters kept up a running commentary – football the world over – and there was great merriment when a home player took one in the nuts and the trainer tried to hoist him onto his back causing him more pain and discomfort. Black Starlets, in immaculate gear, warmed up with a cross between a synchronised dance routine and a martial arts display – impressive. I wonder if there are any future Essiens amongst this slick and rather precocious team of young men. They ran out 2-0 winners, controlling the game, although Homestars struck the bar early on in the second half. A good natured game and the local drumming support and chanting were impressive – made me homesick for the Bees.
The end of the month has been a little sad – we heard from Jocelyn, the Assembly Woman, that Frits had died after a bad bout of malaria. Frits was a real gentleman in the old fashioned sense of the word – full of bonhomie and wit, a charming raconteur. We had only just began to know him and were hoping to see much more of him. He was a respected filmmaker in Holland and he had told us with great pride about the film he made of Liverpool Street Station. It is hard to believe that he is no more. Then came more bad news last week – Dehole, who was due to travel to Accra with Kiran and Francis to meet some potential donors form Denmark, collapsed the same day and was taken to hospital after a massive stroke. He remains seriously ill and we are all hoping for his recovery.
So it really has been quite a time. We are both a bit knackered – unsurprisingly – especially Kiran who travelled to Accra and back twice in the space of a few days with the two Danes, Dan and Torben. Hopefully, though, this will bear fruit in the future and it seems that there might be a large sum up for grabs to develop projects for people with learning difficulties. I will be off to Accra for a week next Monday to do some work with the VSO Office Team – looking at how partner arrangements can be better managed and formalised.
On the broader front prices keep going up – it is getting harder by the day for people here to make ends meet (assuming that they could do so anyway), new tros keep appearing on the streets of Ho, courtesy of all the loans to buy them being dangled – cant help feeling that this is going to end in tears for some, election fever is mounting as we edge ever closer to December and the Black Stars are preparing for their crucial World Cup qualifier next week against Libya – so more cash, more beer and more football – vote for me.

Funerals in Ghana

Funerals play a very important role in the lives of Ghanaians. A lot of money is spent on the funeral ceremony and sometimes if families do not have the money they wait for months or even years to have a funeral ceremony. Some people have the services over a week but most of the funerals are for three days – Fridays, Saturdays through to Sundays which is when the church service takes place.
I recently attended two funerals and due to miscommunication missed a chief’s funeral although observed some of the ceremonial dances and singing on the streets. People wear red and black on Friday and Saturday ceremonies and white on Sundays. A lot of people in Ho were wearing red during the chief’s funeral which went on for a week even if it was just a headscarf. I brought a number of red dresses when I came here because I like the colour and now have to be careful not to wear those dresses to important meetings.
The first funeral I attended was that of the brother of VOLPHIG’s Board Chair, Dehole Dometi. His brother was only in his early fifties and had a stroke. The funeral services took place in their home village Kpetoe 30 minutes drive from Ho. I went there with VOLPHIG staff and Board members in the dilapidated trotro. Outside their house, three long marquees had been put up and a lot of people were already seated. There was a table and microphone at one end and musicians under another marquee. Services began in English and translated in Ewe so it took a long time. Dehole was taking down names of people who were donating to the funeral and giving out receipts. Dehole’s brother lay in a room inside the house and people could go and pay their respects. I went with Mispa and Benedicta and first said a few words of condolences to the family members seated outside the room. I was amazed at the way the room was decorated (I was told afterwards that you can hire different decorations for the funeral. As funerals are so important, it means some people are making a lot of money). The whole room was fitted with white netting and there were a few angels sewed on the net. There were two women, family members, who were in the room swinging whisks and we went in and went around the body (we have the same ritual in Hindu ceremonies as well) twice. Then went to see Dehole to register our donations. The amounts donated and by whom is read out during the service.
Outside the service had started, a priest was leading the service and was accompanied by two women singers. This was quite a long service and took over an hour. Then the body was put in a coffin brought out by family members and people paid their respects once again. Everybody then went to the burial ground which was a mile away. I left the service then as Michael was coming home after a week in Accra and used the local trotro service to get back home to Ho. The others stayed for more services and food.
The second funeral we attended was very different. It was held in a church on Friday and the same service was for three people whose coffins were laid out side by side in the church at the front. The father of one of network colleagues had passed away. There were lots of people and so it took ages for people to go round the coffins to pay their respects. The donations were collected in a basket by the coffin so people put their donations in the basket next to the coffin of the person’s funeral they were attending. At one stage there was a big debate as people had gone round and because they were not sure which coffin was whose had put the donations in the wrong basket. We did not get to the bottom of how that got resolved in the end. There was a big difference in the way the coffins were lead out to the burial ground. One coffin nearly dropped because the family members were struggling to carry the coffin, the second one was carried out without a hitch and the third one was done very professionally. The men were wearing a white glove on the hand on the coffin and they marched out in unison with a step to the side. We did not join the burial service nor the food and drinks afterwards as we knew they would not have catered for vegetarians.
The third one was the Asogli chief’s funeral. He had passed away 7 years ago and the local belief is that unless the new chief carries out a funeral service that is approved by the council, he could not really be the official chief. The burial had taken place when the chief died and the funeral service took place a few weeks ago. The new Asogli chief in one of the richest men in Volta and maybe even in Ghana. So a lot of money was spent on the funeral. We were not aware that we could just walk in to the services and pay our respects and so missed the actual services. However, we did see the dances on the streets and these were amazing. One of the mornings, Michael in his usual fashion was snapping away and one of the guards carrying a gun told him he needed permission to take photos but he wouldn’t say how this permission could be obtained. Michael was warned that if he continued then his camera would be destroyed!! A lucky escape from an embarrassing situation! We found out later that it was okay to take photos on the streets and the services in the Asogli compound but not during the services at the burial ground and inside the house. I think the man was very drunk and seeing a “Yevu” taking photos took offence and because he had a gun could dictate the terms.

Downtown Ho

Biking in Bolga

My first and only, previous attempt to ride a motorcycle was for a few weeks back in the 1970s. I acquired an ageing Triumph Tiger Cub from a mate but had neither the acumen nor the inclination to continually fiddle about with it. On the few occasions I did manage to get it on the road – twice I think – I lost my balance each time and fell off. Needless to say I cut my losses, oily gaskets and all.
It therefore came as a surprise when Sonia, the Programme Manager, suddenly announced that I should have a motorbike as part of my new extended, freewheeling regional role. Training had already been arranged for the new intake of volunteers needing bikes and I was duly dispatched off to Bolga – a bone crunching fifteen hour bus ride from Accra to the north, close to the Burkina Faso border.
The first problem was to find a crash helmet large enough to fit my big head. Fortunately another volunteer in Bolga had a spare one knocking about and it was just about big enough to squeeze on to my bonce. So, feeling just a little apprehensive, I joined my team mates for the first day of training – the oldest kid on the block. There were four new, young volunteers – all of whom had ridden before and all attached to the education programme in the north, an older Philippino woman, O, who although she had ridden before was feeling anxious about the task and R, who already has years of riding experience but who for some reason has to prove and demonstrate his fitness to ride. In charge of the training was Salah from the Accra office and a local mechanic, Daniel.

As an introduction we had a talk from a very smartly turned out Deputy Police Superintendant, who warned us of the various dangers on the road – predominantly pigs who are apparently erratic and unpredictable and drunken donkey cart drivers, who fall asleep on the job. Goats, guinea fowl and cows all have the good sense to get out of the way – pedestrians and other drivers...well who knows?!
The rest of the day was given up to practice on a nearby playing field. All went well, once the tricky bit of starting was accomplished although stopping also proved to be somewhat iffy too. However, I am overcome with panic at the start of the afternoon session, accelerate instead of slow down and before I know it am over, bike on top of me. Cut and bruised the office staff patch me up – I am shaky but I decide that I have to get back on the bike – not a good idea. Within seconds of starting I am off again and in need of tea and sympathy, somewhat in a state of shock.
Overnight I toss and turn – should I quit now still in one piece or shall I try again? The morning comes and Salah has arranged a slow learners class for O and me – more practice on the playing field whilst the others get their first proper ride. Today I learn that there is a foot brake – useful – and I slowly begin to master the art of stop and go. Torrential rain in the early afternoon brings our session to an end for the day – giving more time to worry.
Day three – the big one – we are all riding off road to Bongo, a small village about fifteen kilometres away. It is both an exhilarating and terrifying experience but somehow I make it under the watchful eye of Salah who is carefully nurturing my confidence whilst keeping a protective look out for me. I am still very jerky and fiercely grip the handlebars but I at last begin to feel that I can do this. The journey back is marred when just as we get close to the office O catapults off her bike, trying to avoid a pothole and flies into a table which fortunately breaks her fall. Nevertheless she is badly shaken and promptly dispatched to the local hospital. We take a rather quiet, sober lunch break reflecting on the perils of bike riding.
By late afternoon however we are back on the road, undeterred and ride to the Tongu Hills. The landscape is starkly beautiful, strewn with great rough boulders with small villages here and there of cylindrical thatched adobe huts. The roads are rough and the main challenge is to maintain concentration whilst controlling the urge to take in the magnificent scenery all around. We all get back in one piece and I realise that this is beginning to work. O is back from the hospital with what looks like a hairline fracture of her collar bone. She is dosed up on painkillers and will need to return to Accra to see a specialist.
Day four – the first session is rudimentary mechanics. Daniel, our very sweet mechanic takes us through the intricacies of adjusting the chain tension, checking battery levels, spark plug cleaning and oil change. I get my hands dirty and yes – hard to believe – I learn how to change a sparkplug! The finale – we ride off road to Paga and the border with Burkina Faso. A wonderful journey, some treacherous stretches and for the first time I begin to “feel” the bike – that oneness or Zen (here we go hippy dippy stuff beware) and yes it feels amazing. We visit the Chief’s crocodile pond at Paga and negotiate the busy market at Navrongo. By now I am “Mike the Bike” to the team and adjudged capable and fit to ride. That night we have a celebratory dinner before setting out on our separate ways again across the country. Me – well I owe a great deal to Salah and Daniel for their patience and perseverance in getting me through this – I would never have thought that I would learn to ride a bike at my age. Now I have to wait for my brand new Yamaha 2 Stroke to be delivered – I can’t wait and am looking forward to terrifying local road users here.

Highlights of July so far

This last month has been really busy for both of us and with interrupted internet service and access to internet cafes or office PC, it has not been possible to update this blog. Thanks to all the friends who reminded us that they read the blog and that we should continue to add to it. For those who appreciated Michael’s slide shows, he will be making more of these once he returns from Bolgatanga in a weeks’ time. He is there for motorbike training. His job now covers other districts in the region so VSO will give him a motor bike. I am looking forward to riding pillion – promise not to look at the road because that will only result in my being a back seat driver.
The highlights for the past weeks have been:
A workshop on Raising awareness of the Disability Act and Human Rights for women with disabilities in Mafi Kumasi (I go again tomorrow for 3 days). I roped Michael in to help last time, because two of the staff needed a lot of support. We went to this small village where there was no mobile phone coverage and hence we were cut off from everything and as a result put all our energies into the workshop. The women really got into participating and the role plays. There was a lot of laughter and fun. I really wished then that I could speak in Ewe (we still haven’t managed to have any lessons as the last Tuesday we were in town it rained heavily and then everything else stops.
Building special needs classes in a school in Adaklu Helekpe by the side of the baobab tree: We will be making an application to Anil’s golf club and hope that they can raise enough money for us to build two class rooms and a dining room for all the students. You will hear much more about this if we are successful as it will take up a lot of our time. A few weeks ago we told you about climbing Mt. Adaklu and the picture of a village that you can see from top of the mountain is Helekpe. We are both really excited about this and have had a lot of support from the chiefs of the village and in fact the “War-chief” is personally involved as he is also a builder. Helekpe is about 15 miles away but the road has been impossible due to the heavy rains.
Teaching (or rather supporting a special needs class in Ho): I started supporting Esenam, a qualified Special Needs Teacher, few weeks ago. Two mornings a week I spend an hour and a half at the class and at the moment due to language barrier, I can only support as extra pair of hands. Michael has started joining me and we both really look forward to the two mornings. Even though one time when Michael went on his own, he nearly ended up having a hair-cut!! Bored student with scissors!
VSO Annual Conference: Celebrating 50 years of VSO in Ghana: Michael was on the planning team and this kept him busy for a few days. I facilitated three workshops and used “World Cafe” concept which was fun. We were all put up in a posh hotel for 3 days (78 volunteers) and I could not bear to think about the expense on our accommodation – although some clearly felt that they needed pampering. I can understand this because some of the volunteers have had such horrendous health problems – every time we see them they have lost more weight!

Michael has been working on our garden and has made a great effort. He has added more plants last week which are not in the photos. This was the first planting session and we both got really excited about it.

The bad news is that the house is leaking from the roof as well as the floor so we have to move. My employer is looking for alternative accommodation for us. However we will take the plants in the garden with us wherever we go.

Dr. Sen

We heard about Dr. Sen from another VSO volunteer and of course we had to meet her. While at the Regional hospital, to attend the wheelchair donation programme, we made sure we went to the labour ward. We saw this small Indian woman in her sari with an entourage doing a ward round. She was really pleased to see us. We made a date to meet her at her house.
Dr. Sen graduated in Calcutta, worked there for a few years before going to England to do post graduation. She worked in different cities in the UK for nine years. She says she had a "mini" to travel around and made the most of it and can still recount all her journeys and cities she has been to. This was in the early 1960s so she would have been a real minority, an Indian and a woman doctor as well as being tiny. I am sure she endeared herself to her patients and colleagues as she is quite a character.
She decided to “challenge” herself and followed another Indian doctor to work in a mission hospital in Ghana. The other doctor only lasted one year and Dr. Sen has been in Ghana for over 40 years and in Ho for 30 years. I am sure a majority of children born in the Regional hospital have been under her care. In fact we were together at a hotel in Ho where a young man overheard who she was and came to introduce himself and to congratulate her. Last month the Health Ministry awarded her a gold medal and a commendation for her 40 years of work in Ghana. However, the same health ministry and not giving her pension so as a result she continues to work even though she needs a cataract operation, has a hearing difficulty and needs dentures. She is in her mid to late 70s and she goes to work everyday. She has given her life to improving health care in Ghana so it must be devastating to have to fight for what is her right. She says she is tired and cannot carry on any more. We have agreed to help and support her if she can find all the papers! She has amazing stories to tell and keeps saying her friends say she should write a book and it would be an interesting read.
Her house is stuck in the 60s and Michael was dying to take photos and picked up his courage on our third visit to ask her permission. He garden is lovely and every time we visit, she gives us fresh mangoes, papaya, limes and “noni” which is the same family as custard apple but much larger.
Dr. Sen needs a lot of support and so she has a young Ghanain man (nearly 18 years old) living with her. She pays for his education, boarding lodging and clothes. In return he has to help her with all the chores. On our first visit when she called out for “Gandhi” we thought she had given him a new name. Gandhi is his real name and his father had been in India for a few years and decided to name his son after Mahatma Gandhi who he admired hugely. Whenever, we visit we always hear shouts of “Gandhiiiii......” and Gandhi takes his own time responding “Coming ma”.