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”.

Shining Bright

My Work

Just in case you all think that I am here just having a jolly good time, I thought I should give a quick update on how I have been earning my crust (or more to the point spending your taxes). A lot of my time has been spent trying to sort out my role here working with the local District Assembly. The crux of this has been to draft a new job/project description and to present this to my boss Mr B. What I have done is to greatly broaden the role to make it more of an advisory and strategic role. It seems that very little time here is given over to taking a look at the bigger picture and linking all the micro developments to the larger macro perspective. One result of this is that a lot of work goes on in isolation and there is very little linking up to wider strategic goals. Consequently there is a lot of duplication and poor use of resources. Of course this means trying to bring together the many stakeholders, lead by the disabled peoples groups to agree on where they are trying to get to, which in itself is quite a challenge.
The next step is getting this across to Mr B and means endless waiting at his office (he never makes appointments) hoping to grab his attention long enough whilst trying to communicate my message across to him. Because I am not alone in this – there are four of us across the country trying to work with the local assemblies, VSO called a meeting in Accra to get us all together to try and work out some ways forward. Well – for the first time in almost three months I had a one to one with Mr B, lots of good intentions were expressed but back at the ranch I still do not have an office at the Assembly and still seem to be working in virtual isolation – walk on!
One successful project has been to learn how to use the movie maker programme on the computer (wow Mr P what is happening here!?) and to put together a short clip for the VOLPHIG AGM. This did in fact take me hours, being such a slow learner on this darned thing, but I was dead chuffed to put together a pictorial record of some of the consultation work that VOLPHIG carried out in the villages. I now go under the name of Yevu Abobo productions and am planning more ambitious works.
I also supported a self help group of people with disabilities in a small community in Agatime Afegame to prepare a funding proposal to present to their local District Assembly in Kpetoe. I never thought that I would begin to learn about goat rearing and cassava harvesting at this time in my life but there you go. Once the proposal had been completed I went with the Chair of the group Mr K to see the District Coordinating Director (aka Big Man) – who was in fact a tiny man in a huge leather chair. His smart computer continuously showed a slideshow of luxury cars and their leather interiors, ending with a shot of him ensconced in his chair - had to stifle the giggles. So, having hopefully used all the yevu influence I could muster, we wait in anticipation for the money so that they can begin to buy their goats and plough their fields – ho hum.

Last week it was back in Accra. Wisely or perhaps unwisely I have volunteered my services as the Volta regional rep to plan the 50th VSO Ghana conference. We worked hard all week as a group to design a stimulating and challenging conference but are still unclear whether we can proceed as funding is tight and we still have a number of challenges to overcome. Have to say that I was glad to get back to Ho – not only to see Kiran but because it is a lovely place and Accra does my head in. One of my next projects will be to train a number of new counsellors for another NGO working in Ho, so that will keep me off the streets! So – there you go – all those of you out there who think I am on holiday – get real!

Adaklu Mountain

Last Sunday we climbed our local mountain, Mount Adaklu – a steep, rocky volcanic slab covered in sub tropical forest. Some locals refer to it as their “Table Mountain”. It is about fifteen kilometres from Ho on a muddy red road and this time there were no road blocks (it is common here for people to fill in holes in the road and then stop any traffic for “donations” – or dash). When we arrived in Helakpe, we registered at the visitor centre and paid our entrance fees for the “Mountain Tour”. This is one of many eco projects in the region that have been set up in recent years, mainly by Peace Corps volunteers, to stimulate local tourism. Profits from the projects go to fund local community developments. Sadly there are probably just a few tourists visiting each week.

Two young men were then dispatched to guide us to the next village of Kordiabe. This involved a gentle climb through small farms and forest but already we were both dripping with sweat. No mountain guide was to be found here – it seems that he had probably gone to church in Helakpe – so we were taken to the village chief’s house. Plastic chairs were brought out and after the usual courtesies, Togbe Adjeye the Fourth decided that his eldest son, Wonder could guide us together with one of his younger brothers Kodzo. Wonder is sixteen and next in line to the chieftancy – Kodzo just six years old, full of beans and as bright as a button.

They both skip cheerfully up the mountain in their flip flops, singing and whistling – Kodzo slashing at the undergrowth with a cutlass almost as big as himself. For us it is a different story – it is gruelling despite the early hour and relative coolness. The humidity is a killer and Wonder is soon carrying Kiran’s pack. It takes a good hour to reach the half way point – a great overhanging rock that forms a natural cave overlooking the village below. A brief rest, some dextrose and it is onwards and upwards. The rocks are slippery and there are several stretches where we have to use ropes. Finally after a short hike through the jungle at the top plateau we reach the summit.
We were rewarded with a magnificent view over Helakpe and the Kolor game reserve. By now Wonder had developed a keen interest in photography and after some experimentation had soon mastered the main functions of my camera. The way down is, if anything, more difficult (I guess that is always generally true) and we made our way carefully down the steep rocks, mostly on our bottoms! Back down in the village we join the Togbe who is now entertaining Mawuli (God exists) Dabi – a local boy made good. He is the Chief Executive of the local District Assembly (a political appointment) and is now standing in the forthcoming elections as local MP for the ruling “elephant” party.

He has lived as a child in Uganda and has been to Jinja – small world! We drink schnapps and exchange stories surrounded by the Togbe’s wives and children. Mawuli then takes us on a quick impromptu visit to the house he has built in the village that he says can be used by tourists to generate money for the community. He proudly announces that you can watch satellite tv in the village – it is almost surreal. All the time he is mobbed by the local villagers anxious to pay their respects and shake the hand of the “Big Man”. He then gives us a lift back to Helakpe in his huge, luxurious, shiny 4X4, stopping frequently to give out posters for his election campaign and to greet his supporters. Wonder, meanwhile, who has come along for the ride continues to snap away – much to the delight of all.

Charity Mawuko and Bridget pounding Fufu

Making fufu is not easy. It is one of the staple foods and is usually made from cassava and plantains. Although Charity also adds sweet potatoes to it. It is a long and hard process. After boiling the ingredients, they all need to be pounded separately and then mixed together and pounded again. I find it a dangerous process as one person has to turn the fufu in the mortar while the other person pounds. There is a rhythm to it and if the person with the pestle misses it surely means no fingers left!! So you have to trust the person a lot.

Once the fufu is pounded it is steamed and eaten with a hot and spicy soup usually made with fish or meat. So we have great difficulty finding vegetarian fufu as the basic ingredient includes shrimp paste. We have to order it a day in advance to make sure we get vegetarian soup. This means we cannot just walk into the local "spots" as the restaurant stalls are called and order anything vegetarian.