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