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!!