The long awaited youth empowerment program at Ashaiman Secondary High School officially is up and running and I am happy to report that day 1 was a huge success! We were so warmly received by the school’s administration and are fortunate to have their support 110%. Our day began with a meeting with the Headmaster and Asst. Headmaster to present our proposal for the week. But, first, we needed to print our proposal which proved to be quite a task in and of itself. They have one computer for all of the administration (which the secretary uses) and one small photocopier. I was humbled to see how much trouble it was to make 9 copies of the proposed plan.
We proposed leading workshops in different classrooms each period every day this week. Knowing there are 14 classrooms and 4 of us, we knew it would be a challenge, (especially since some classes have up to 70 students per period) but we were up for the challenge. The topics we proposed leading were: identity exploration, addressing your inner critic, leadership, and goal setting (two-part session). The Administration liked our ideas, but they wanted to be sure we reached ALL students. They proposed we have two daily assemblies with Form 1 (first year) and Form 2 (second year) students (Form 3 students recently completed their studies and are not present during the summer months). For clarification, I asked how many students would be in each assembly – oh, ‘just’ 300 or so. Our program quickly morphed from working with small(-er) groups to leading large scale assemblies. We adapted and made some adjustments to our curriculum for the day (Who am I? Exploring your identity). The Asst. Headmaster, upon the change of plans, quickly moved into action. He informed us they have a PA system they would set up and left the room. At 10:55AM, Form 1 students were rallied, all 300+ of them, in the assembly hall.
When we entered the hall, what was formerly an empty room was now full with 300 desks, a podium, a large moveable chalkboard, a table (with a white table cloth accented by the fake flowers in a vase in the center) and chairs. The PA system was up and running, from the help of a couple students and we were ready to go. It was amazing how quickly it all came together, especially since when we entered in the morning, about 1 ½ hours earlier this was not at all our plan. I cannot believe how well we were received and how quickly the administration adapted and responded for the students. The Asst. Headmaster is adamant that the students’ need this program and he wanted to be sure we reached each and every student. As such, the students will not be in class for two periods (one block) every day this week. This, compared to what I know from working with administration in the US, is crazy – they would not be as happy to give up their students’ classroom time for week-long assemblies on identity and development.
I was pretty nervous to lead the assemblies. I am fairly confident of my abilities in working with adolescents, especially girls, but a mixed gender group of 300 was pretty intimidating. I started out by saying “Maakye” (“Good morning” in Twi) with blank stares which I took as normal for teenagers at 11AM on a June Monday. The Asst. Headmaster apparently did not believe this was appropriate and took the mic from my hands. I was waiting for what he would say when he said “Do you realize she was speaking Twi? She just greeted you.” He handed back the mic and I again said “Maakye” and was greeted with uproarious laughter from all 300 students. I’m guessing my accent was a little off? I tried.
The activity today focused on identities and how people see us. We began with a short sharing of “something you don’t know about me…” Students were prompted to share something we might not know about them by looking at them. Most students shared their future goals or dreams (mainly career-related), such as “I want to be a nurse/football player/doctor.” A couple students shared their favorite colors or where they are from. It was fun to finally interact with the students and learn a bit about them. They are mostly so demure, so shy and quiet – and so respectful. Our next activity was drawing a mountain. From a distance when you look at a mountain you can only see the top part – you cannot see what is at the bottom of the mountain – are there people? A village? Animals? To see what is at the base of the mountain you must move closer. This is the same with people. From the outside we only see the tip of the mountain; we must get closer to people, get to know them better, ask them questions to see what is really underneath. Using this metaphor we drew a mountain and identified things on the top of the mountain for them (body shape/size, hair color, skin color, face) and those underneath (religion, personality). They then drew their own mountains highlighting what aspects of themselves were at the top of the mountain or underneath the horizon. The second activity (which we did not get to with Form 1 groups) was to based on a poem from a curriculum I work with in the States. It is called “Just Because” and is originally written by Esther Kamkar, a woman born in Iran in 1947 who now lives in the US. She often feels that people judge her by what they see on the outside, but do not really know her.
Just because I was born in Iran,
I am not a belly dancer
I am not a fortune teller
I am not a camel rider.
I am a poet.
Just because I am a woman,
I do not like diamonds
I do not love to shop
I do not worship credit cards
I love to play with clay
Just because I am a Jew,
I do not make a fortune
I do not hate Arabs
I do not believe in “an eye for an eye”
I remember and give refuge
Just because I am a mother
I am not regretful
I am not a martyr
I am not a fixer
I am a free spirit.
After sharing this poem with the students, they wrote their own Just Because poems. We had a few students volunteer to share their poems with the group and they were amazing!! One student talked about “Just because I am poor, I am not lazy, I am not unmotivated…I am a village boy” and there was an uproar of support for him. One student shared “Just because I am fat…Doesn’t mean I can’t dance…Doesn’t mean I can’t stand out…Doesn’t mean I can’t be beautiful…Doesn’t mean I can’t be respected. I am fat-tabulous and happy.” There was also great applause and cheering in support of her. I was so personally touched by her poem – because 1. As a fat girl, I can relate so much to her words. 2. I hate when teen girls have to struggle with weight concerns. It’s so stupid and mean. And 3. I hoped there was a part of the world where I could go that was protected from the fat=bad bullshit but from westernization Ghanaian women and girls are now receiving these message as well. It breaks my heart to hear, yet she inspired me so much to remember my own beauty and to be FATTABULOUS. I recorded her reading her poem for future inspiration
Upon completion of our group assemblies we rushed off to do our individual counseling sessions. Another unforeseen need and addition to our program was the offering of individual counseling for the students. They have one school counselor for all 1000+ students. We created ¼ slip forms to hand out to interested students. They filled out their name, form (grade), program, and issue to be addressed and turned them in to us. We had no idea that over 300 students would turn in forms! After sorting through the Form 1 forms we noticed categories of concerns: financial, academic, future planning/goal setting, medical, and general (social skills, family concerns). For today we addressed the general concerns since they were the least amount. We were given a classroom for the 5 of us to counsel. We arranged the 10 desks into pairs and tried to give as much a space as possible between the paired tables. I learned a lot today about being a resourceful social worker. I saw one student who was concerned about pressure she is getting from her family to work or else she doesn’t know how to pay school fees. She fears she cannot work during the week because she must study many hours. Her mother is telling her she is lazy since she doesn’t want to work. Since I only have one 45 minute session with this student I chose to use an empowerment model and focus on how to provide her with problem solving and decision making skills. Together, we brainstormed a list of possible solutions to her situation and did pros and cons. Once she narrowed down her top choices we discussed possible challenges she may face and ways she may address those challenges. We identified first steps for her to take in moving towards her goal. I hope this was helpful for her. I am not so much a quick fix type person; I would rather get to know the client and develop a relationship with them. In this context, however, I am more solution and empowerment focused. All I can do is my best over this week…
After our long day we did some planning and prep work for the week, ate a quick dinner and I am heading to bed soon. I need a good night’s rest for tomorrow
07 June 2009
Day 12: Tema Wedding
I went to the wedding today in Tema. I expected it to be more interesting, but really it was very similar to any wedding in the States. This was a more modern wedding – held in a church with the bride and groom in a white dress and tux. The church service lasted almost 3 hours and was stocked full of talk of God, Jesus, and gays-are-bad. I have such a hard time in religious settings, even despite cultural humility. I try really really hard but I just don’t have much patience for the –isms. The reception followed at an outdoor garden. Many of the traditional wedding customs with which I am familiar were in place – the head table, popping of champagne, toasting, best man and maid of honor speeches, etc. We sat in round tables and were served a delicious buffet of red red, fried rice, plantains, fish, chicken, fufu, and goat soup (which I did try. Yes, I have officially eaten goat. It tastes like pork to me).
After returning from church I spent the rest of the day with my group planning for our project tomorrow. Our project starts tomorrow! I am so excited to meet the students and get a chance to know them. It is difficult being here for only one week but I hope we can make some sort of difference, no matter how large or small. Even if we are just planting seeds, I hope someone else will water them and make sure they have sun so they grow to be strong and healthy.
After returning from church I spent the rest of the day with my group planning for our project tomorrow. Our project starts tomorrow! I am so excited to meet the students and get a chance to know them. It is difficult being here for only one week but I hope we can make some sort of difference, no matter how large or small. Even if we are just planting seeds, I hope someone else will water them and make sure they have sun so they grow to be strong and healthy.
06 June 2009
Day 11: Accra Artist Market
Yet another early morning. Breakfast was at 8AM and we left for the Artist Market at 9AM. I’m tired, but I don’t want to miss a thing! The Artist Market, I’ve heard, can be very overwhelming. It is similar to a flea market with several stands in a small space. The difference being the selling technique. These sellers are quite aggressive. They will grab your hand and try to pull you into their shop, they will follow you through the market and try to sell to you and if you so much as look at an item or touch something they will basically put it on you saying “it’s yours.” (But, it really isn’t because when I walked away with it and said “thanks!” they weren’t too happy. Who knew?!) Also, as in many developing nations, the norm is to haggle for prices. Being an obroni (white, tourist) I will always get quoted a higher price – sometimes a ridiculously higher price. You have to barter and haggle to get to the price at which you’re comfortable buying. I’m not much of a fan of this process. At any rate, I ended up with some wood carvings, a drum, a dress, 2 bags, a shirt, and loads of jewelry. I keep telling myself some of it is gifts…I just don’t know which items because I want it all for me!
When I came out of the market, I was looking for my bus and realized I had been left! Luckily, another bus from our program had just rolled up so I caught a ride back with them. We drove the Accra Main Square to purchase some other items and it was a crazy madhouse. Tons of people everywhere – on the street, on the sidewalk, in the street. People selling everything from Raid roach killer to tennis shoes to kebabs. There wasn’t anything I have ever needed in my life that wasn’t for sale on that street. After an hour there we headed back to the hostel.
I went for a walk with a friend here and decided to get my hair braided. We walked past a woman in a field who was doing hair and asked her if she could do my hair and how much. Yes, and 7 cedis. I choose a brownish-red weave and sat down. Three hours later I now have me some fancy braids. I like to fit into the culture I’m in. Plus I am going to a wedding tomorrow and I wanted to have something ‘fancy’-ish for it. Woo!
I enjoyed a later dinner and made plans to go out dancing. Plans were foiled and I ended up hanging out in my room again chatting it up – which is OK because tomorrow I have to be up early, again. The wedding is during church service so we must leave by 9AM. Wish I could have one day to sleep… I guess I can do that back in Austin. For now there is fun to be had and experiences to experience.
When I came out of the market, I was looking for my bus and realized I had been left! Luckily, another bus from our program had just rolled up so I caught a ride back with them. We drove the Accra Main Square to purchase some other items and it was a crazy madhouse. Tons of people everywhere – on the street, on the sidewalk, in the street. People selling everything from Raid roach killer to tennis shoes to kebabs. There wasn’t anything I have ever needed in my life that wasn’t for sale on that street. After an hour there we headed back to the hostel.
I went for a walk with a friend here and decided to get my hair braided. We walked past a woman in a field who was doing hair and asked her if she could do my hair and how much. Yes, and 7 cedis. I choose a brownish-red weave and sat down. Three hours later I now have me some fancy braids. I like to fit into the culture I’m in. Plus I am going to a wedding tomorrow and I wanted to have something ‘fancy’-ish for it. Woo!
I enjoyed a later dinner and made plans to go out dancing. Plans were foiled and I ended up hanging out in my room again chatting it up – which is OK because tomorrow I have to be up early, again. The wedding is during church service so we must leave by 9AM. Wish I could have one day to sleep… I guess I can do that back in Austin. For now there is fun to be had and experiences to experience.
05 June 2009
Day 10: Cape Coast
I had ambitious plans to wake up at 5AM today and watch the sunrise over the ocean. When my alarm went off, I laughed, snoozed, and returned to sleep. Around 7:30 I awoke and did yoga on my porch looking into the ocean. The life. After breakfast we loaded our buses to head to Kakum National Park. No sooner had we parked and paid when a torrential downpour began. Kakum is a rainforest, so some rain is to be expected, but this was crazy style rain. We decided to eat lunch on site and hope the rain ended. Shortly afterwards a bamboo band rolled up in the rain and began setting up for a performance. Our Program Director is pretty amazing and just pulled this out for us. It was a full ensemble, dancing and drumming troupe who performed for an hour. It was amazing! All of the instruments they were playing were made of solid bamboo – the only additions being metal pieces for connection. In perfect timing, our food was ready as they finished and the rain slowed down to a light drizzle. After some kebobs, I ventured into the rainforest. A short uphill hike led us to the canopy tour. We walked 7 canopy bridges and it was breathtakingly beautiful. I remember from Costa Rica just how beautiful the rainforest is from that high…Kakum did not disappoint. Wet and tired, I completed all 7 and headed back to load up the bus and head home. It was a long drive home with 35 wet people crammed closely together. I put on my headphones and zoned out. Back at the hostel I took a lukewarm shower, had a light snack and just hung out with my roomie and some friends. It is nice to be back with the group.
04 June 2009
Day 9: Cape Coast
After 3 ½ hours crammed tight in the backseat of a Mercedes (you know how I roll), I thankfully made it to Cape Coast and was able to catch up with the group. We began our day with a tour of the Slave River – the final bathing place for the slaves after they walked for weeks or months from the Northern Region of Ghana and neighboring countries, such as Burkina Faso to Cape Coast to be traded or sold. On site they have built a memorial wall for those who have returned to Ghana after the Diaspora and/or other supporters. The site was touching in a way, trying to imagine the walk folks took and the conditions in which they endured. But, this was clearly a tourist centre. I do not believe there is historical evidence of this being “The” Slave River or bathing site; rather it is a lake with a story. At any rate, the guide gave a good speech which personalized the experience and helped drive home the reality of the history of slavery.
Next stop was the long awaited Cape Coast slave castle. This fortress, castle, dungeon is a true historical building over 200 years old. From the outside it is a beautiful white structure. It looks like a traditional castle. Inside, however, there are dungeons, a holding cell, and cannons. We began with an entrance into the male dungeon. This was a three room concrete cellar with one small window in each room. Guards stood by with rifles in the windows to keep order. Over 1000 men were held at a time and were held for up to 6 weeks. Men were fed twice daily. They ate, slept, and defecated in this same space. A small gutter existed, but archeologists have found evidence that fecal matter and waste reached up to 4 feet tall. Appalling. Despicable.
The female dungeon was even smaller, just two rooms, and held both women and children. The two rooms only had one small window which was also guarded. Women were kept nude and were used by traders and guards as desired. A woman’s “saving grace” was to become pregnant from one of the British men. She would then be freed. The risk was too great to try and sell or transfer a pregnant woman. In the Cape Coast area now there are many people who have last names such as “Stephenson” or “Robertson” – this, quite literally, means the child is the son of Stephan or Robert. (Why do I know no Stephendaughters?)
Near by was a holding cell. This cell was a small, narrow room where rebels were locked up. This room contained no windows and when the door was closed there was no oxygen coming in. They closed it for a minute while we were in there. It did take my breath away – not only the lack of oxygen, but the heat, the closeness to everyone, the lack of light. It was scary – and I knew what was happening and that it would end quickly. I cannot imagine what it was like to be taken from your country by force or manipulation, shackled and forced to walk for sometimes 3-4 months and then be kept in a dungeon for 6 weeks all for no apparent reason. Most of these people were just minding their own business before being taken away and enslaved. I just do not understand humans.
The final piece the enslaved people saw was a big black door labeled “The Door of No Return.” This is the final door where men, women, and children walked away from their homes. The door opens to the harbor where they were loaded on ships to sail to far away, never heard of places. It is such a beautiful sight to behold – the ocean, the rocks, the people. It is difficult to imagine such atrocities happening at this very spot, this very beautiful, breathtaking spot. I had such mixed emotions of everything. I just kept touching the walls in the dungeons and feeling connected to the thousands of hands who touched those same walls. To those who slept and wept on the cement floors I was walking on. To those who lost their lives there. To those who lost their souls there. I could feel that energy transferring through me and into me and it was overwhelming. At several points I cried, but mostly I ached deep inside my heart, in my soul. The fear and pain those people had to feel…
After this journey we visited the upstairs of the palace. This is where the governor resided, where church services were offered, and where slaves were sold. The upstairs of the castle had hard wood floors and many black shuttered windows. They had a beautiful view of the ocean. He sure had nice living arrangements up above people who were lying in their own feces, crying out for their mothers, their fathers, their Lord. The room where slaves were auctioned and sold was also beautiful – a large ballroom with wooden floors and multiple windows opening up to the ocean front.
It is an indescribable feeling to be in that space, to process how much went on there. How many lives were forever changed and how the world was forever changed. I just kept thinking of how many people passed throw there before. My brothers and sisters in humanity. That could have been me or my ancestors, but it wasn’t. Why not? What kept the Swedes or Germans from being enslaved? Why Africans? Why do we continue to abuse Africans and African Americans and other brown people? WHY?! If there is a Goddess, God, Higher Power, Universal Energy, something, anything – WHY does she/he/it allow things like that to happen? Why do we continue the genocide? Why aren’t we, as humans, learning from our mistakes? Why is Wal-Mart enslaving people and getting away with it? In fact, most big businesses are getting away with this, in one form or another. Why aren’t more people in an uproar?!?! We may not be as overt about our shackles these days, but they’re definitely still on. Look at our prisons and detention facilities – are we not still enslaving a particular population today? How did the US just sit and watch the Holocaust? Apartheid? Darfur? How am I involved? Am I a part of the solution? I have always felt that if you’re not part of the solution then you’re part of the problem. I’m realizing though, that I’m part of the problem no matter what, but how can I reduce my emissions? Am I doing enough? Should I, could I be doing more? What is that? Where is that?
After the castles we returned to our beachfront cottages for an afternoon of relaxation. How do I go from all of this intensity to ‘fun time’? It is difficult for me to switch like that. I found myself a nice quiet spot on the beach to journal and think and just watch and listen to the waves. I allowed myself to feel the waves of emotions and thoughts passing through me… I cried. I cried for the past, the present, the future. I cried over all of the ugliness and beauty surrounding me simultaneously.
After ample time of decompressing I joined some friends in the warm, warm ocean water and played in the sand and relaxed. Some beer or wine would’ve been nice, but I’m still taking it easy from my tummy. Instead I gave myself an all-natural, organic sand and sea salt full body scrub. :) I love silky smooth skin. I retired to my room to shower and get ready for our evening and very much enjoyed the hot shower. I had an amazing evening. Enjoyed some red red for dinner, an amazing drum show and performance, practiced my African dancing (my Beyonce is still pretty weak, but I’m working on it), and capped out with a bonfire on the beach. All in all, a great way to wind down after an intense day. It’s crazy that it is so beautiful here when its’ history is so ugly.
Next stop was the long awaited Cape Coast slave castle. This fortress, castle, dungeon is a true historical building over 200 years old. From the outside it is a beautiful white structure. It looks like a traditional castle. Inside, however, there are dungeons, a holding cell, and cannons. We began with an entrance into the male dungeon. This was a three room concrete cellar with one small window in each room. Guards stood by with rifles in the windows to keep order. Over 1000 men were held at a time and were held for up to 6 weeks. Men were fed twice daily. They ate, slept, and defecated in this same space. A small gutter existed, but archeologists have found evidence that fecal matter and waste reached up to 4 feet tall. Appalling. Despicable.
The female dungeon was even smaller, just two rooms, and held both women and children. The two rooms only had one small window which was also guarded. Women were kept nude and were used by traders and guards as desired. A woman’s “saving grace” was to become pregnant from one of the British men. She would then be freed. The risk was too great to try and sell or transfer a pregnant woman. In the Cape Coast area now there are many people who have last names such as “Stephenson” or “Robertson” – this, quite literally, means the child is the son of Stephan or Robert. (Why do I know no Stephendaughters?)
Near by was a holding cell. This cell was a small, narrow room where rebels were locked up. This room contained no windows and when the door was closed there was no oxygen coming in. They closed it for a minute while we were in there. It did take my breath away – not only the lack of oxygen, but the heat, the closeness to everyone, the lack of light. It was scary – and I knew what was happening and that it would end quickly. I cannot imagine what it was like to be taken from your country by force or manipulation, shackled and forced to walk for sometimes 3-4 months and then be kept in a dungeon for 6 weeks all for no apparent reason. Most of these people were just minding their own business before being taken away and enslaved. I just do not understand humans.
The final piece the enslaved people saw was a big black door labeled “The Door of No Return.” This is the final door where men, women, and children walked away from their homes. The door opens to the harbor where they were loaded on ships to sail to far away, never heard of places. It is such a beautiful sight to behold – the ocean, the rocks, the people. It is difficult to imagine such atrocities happening at this very spot, this very beautiful, breathtaking spot. I had such mixed emotions of everything. I just kept touching the walls in the dungeons and feeling connected to the thousands of hands who touched those same walls. To those who slept and wept on the cement floors I was walking on. To those who lost their lives there. To those who lost their souls there. I could feel that energy transferring through me and into me and it was overwhelming. At several points I cried, but mostly I ached deep inside my heart, in my soul. The fear and pain those people had to feel…
After this journey we visited the upstairs of the palace. This is where the governor resided, where church services were offered, and where slaves were sold. The upstairs of the castle had hard wood floors and many black shuttered windows. They had a beautiful view of the ocean. He sure had nice living arrangements up above people who were lying in their own feces, crying out for their mothers, their fathers, their Lord. The room where slaves were auctioned and sold was also beautiful – a large ballroom with wooden floors and multiple windows opening up to the ocean front.
It is an indescribable feeling to be in that space, to process how much went on there. How many lives were forever changed and how the world was forever changed. I just kept thinking of how many people passed throw there before. My brothers and sisters in humanity. That could have been me or my ancestors, but it wasn’t. Why not? What kept the Swedes or Germans from being enslaved? Why Africans? Why do we continue to abuse Africans and African Americans and other brown people? WHY?! If there is a Goddess, God, Higher Power, Universal Energy, something, anything – WHY does she/he/it allow things like that to happen? Why do we continue the genocide? Why aren’t we, as humans, learning from our mistakes? Why is Wal-Mart enslaving people and getting away with it? In fact, most big businesses are getting away with this, in one form or another. Why aren’t more people in an uproar?!?! We may not be as overt about our shackles these days, but they’re definitely still on. Look at our prisons and detention facilities – are we not still enslaving a particular population today? How did the US just sit and watch the Holocaust? Apartheid? Darfur? How am I involved? Am I a part of the solution? I have always felt that if you’re not part of the solution then you’re part of the problem. I’m realizing though, that I’m part of the problem no matter what, but how can I reduce my emissions? Am I doing enough? Should I, could I be doing more? What is that? Where is that?
After the castles we returned to our beachfront cottages for an afternoon of relaxation. How do I go from all of this intensity to ‘fun time’? It is difficult for me to switch like that. I found myself a nice quiet spot on the beach to journal and think and just watch and listen to the waves. I allowed myself to feel the waves of emotions and thoughts passing through me… I cried. I cried for the past, the present, the future. I cried over all of the ugliness and beauty surrounding me simultaneously.
After ample time of decompressing I joined some friends in the warm, warm ocean water and played in the sand and relaxed. Some beer or wine would’ve been nice, but I’m still taking it easy from my tummy. Instead I gave myself an all-natural, organic sand and sea salt full body scrub. :) I love silky smooth skin. I retired to my room to shower and get ready for our evening and very much enjoyed the hot shower. I had an amazing evening. Enjoyed some red red for dinner, an amazing drum show and performance, practiced my African dancing (my Beyonce is still pretty weak, but I’m working on it), and capped out with a bonfire on the beach. All in all, a great way to wind down after an intense day. It’s crazy that it is so beautiful here when its’ history is so ugly.
03 June 2009
Days 7 & 8: Nyaho Medical Centre, Accra
I woke up Tuesday morning writhing in pain. I had THE. WORST. abdominal pains I have ever, ever had in all of my life. I began vomiting around 7:45AM. I made my best feeble attempt to get down to breakfast to grab a piece of toast to try to choke down my malaria medication. Thinking this was just the malaria kicking in full force, I tried to self soothe and remind myself that it’s just running its course. The Asst. PD caught wind of my vomiting and came to my room to check on me where I was strewn across the bathroom floor crying. She told me we were going back to the hospital immediately. I resisted, again, (I hate medics and I am just so stubborn) and she pretty much was like “tough luck.” About 2 minutes later the diarrhea began back up and then the sweats kicked in and I was ready to go. I continued to lie on the floor alternating ends on the toilet. They called for a car to take me to the Centre which took about an hour because traffic is horrendous (similar to Chicago rush hour, no joke, for those familiar). By that time, I felt disoriented and semi-conscious. I thought I was going to die. Obviously I live since I am writing this, but really, I was begging for the Universe to take me away. I felt miserable.
We got to the hospital where they wheeled me into a room (I could not walk by this point, I could hardly stand) and, again, took my blood pressure and temperature. Then I had to wait to see the doctor. I was in a waiting room with about five other people. I am crying, throwing up in a bag, pouring sweat – a real sight to behold. Finally I got in to see the doctor and he asked what was wrong. “ummm, well Dr. it appears I’m THROWING UP MY BRAINS!” I tried to communicate, but the Asst. PD had to help me. He had me lie down on the table and pressed on my stomach to which I yelled out in pain. He said, “ohh yes, you have a stomach infection.” I asked if I had malaria and he said “ohhh, no!” I told him the Dr. from last night said I had malaria and he looked at me like I was crazy – “It is too early for you to have malaria, plus you are taking your [malaria medication].” Awesome, so no malaria. At this point I didn’t care wtf I had…I just wanted to die and be done with it. They got me into a room hooked up to an IV. I was still throwing up and crying. Not soon enough they came to give me a shots in the butt – one for pain, one as an antibiotic – with an old school needle that was as big as my head. MISERABLE, I was. Luckily I fell asleep for a short time.
This continued for the next 10 hours or so. I would wake up every hour or so and start vomiting again (or have diarrhea) and crying out in pain. They’d make me tough it out for awhile and finally would do the shot thing again. It sucked. I was in a room with three other patients, the TVs were blaring, the lights were all on, and people were walking all around. Not much privacy and not much discern for the pain I was in. IT was very frustrating. The last things you want when you’re that sick are people around, noise, and light.
I finally stopped throwing up after about 13 hours. I had a couple bites of mashed potatoes for dinner and finished a bottle of water. I asked for another bottle of water to which they kindly informed me they only provide the first one for free – you have to get your own water after that. Luckily, I had Gifti, one of our amazing program staff, with me so she got me some water and apple juice. Seriously – you only get one water?!?
Our Head PD came to check on me and when she learned of the conditions she was pissed. I had not actually been tested for anything (no blood, urine, or fecal tests) and they had already misdiagnosed me once. She was not happy. She was on the phone with our international health insurance trying to figure out what to do. She wanted to transfer me to a different hospital in town and there was talk, for a brief time, of getting me air evacuated out of the country to France. I have not yet been to France, but am planning on going in a few weeks – I’d rather go on different terms. Mostly she was concerned and upset and trying to get stuff done. Not having many advocate for me as a child, I really appreciated it. Everything was slowing down by this point so we decided to let me sleep it off.
I slept off and on overnight getting up every few hours for a bathroom visit. It’s a process when you’re carting around that damn IV carrier with you everywhere you go. The power went off and some point so we had to sleep without the air conditioning and it was not the most comfortable of situations. By 9AM I finally stopped with the diarrhea. They kept pumping me with saline and antibiotics. The Asst. PD came to visit around noon and started to push for me to get discharged. They were hesitant, but I wanted to go. Plus, I missed the slave castles this morning in Cape Coast and really want to go for tomorrow’s excursions. I was awake more today and caught an episode of Friends on the TV (they have TV, but you only get one water) and watched a lot of the local version of MTV (when MTV was actually the music television channel). I even heard some Enya on a commercial and caught part of Beauty and the Beast (it looked like a holiday version?). The doctors, nurses, and my roommates (and all of their visitors) were all so very nice and sweet and concerned and loving. Nurse Elizabeth was my favorite – she was so maternal and sweet and just when she would look into my eyes I felt better. No matter where you are, humans can be truly wonderful people who care about you just because you are a living, breathing human. I love that genuine, real connection with people.
By 4PM (Wednesday) I was finally discharged. I came back to the hostel tonight to find we had no electricity or water. I have officially sat in my own filth for 3 days – I am so sexy. I had a few bites of rice for dinner (still no appetite) and am about to shower and get to bed so I can awake for our 5AM departure (Thursday) to Cape Coast to catch up with the group. I will have missed the tour of the Elmina Slave Fortress World Heritage Monument under UNESCO, but will see the Slave River and the Cape Coast Slave Fortress. There will also be a nice dinner with "cultural entertainment" tomorrow night. Friday morning we travel to Kakum National Park for the ethnobotantical trail and eco-tourism lecture. I am glad I get to go. What a journey.
Traveling sure is fun, but it definitely isn’t all rainbows and puppies, that’s for darn sure.
We got to the hospital where they wheeled me into a room (I could not walk by this point, I could hardly stand) and, again, took my blood pressure and temperature. Then I had to wait to see the doctor. I was in a waiting room with about five other people. I am crying, throwing up in a bag, pouring sweat – a real sight to behold. Finally I got in to see the doctor and he asked what was wrong. “ummm, well Dr. it appears I’m THROWING UP MY BRAINS!” I tried to communicate, but the Asst. PD had to help me. He had me lie down on the table and pressed on my stomach to which I yelled out in pain. He said, “ohh yes, you have a stomach infection.” I asked if I had malaria and he said “ohhh, no!” I told him the Dr. from last night said I had malaria and he looked at me like I was crazy – “It is too early for you to have malaria, plus you are taking your [malaria medication].” Awesome, so no malaria. At this point I didn’t care wtf I had…I just wanted to die and be done with it. They got me into a room hooked up to an IV. I was still throwing up and crying. Not soon enough they came to give me a shots in the butt – one for pain, one as an antibiotic – with an old school needle that was as big as my head. MISERABLE, I was. Luckily I fell asleep for a short time.
This continued for the next 10 hours or so. I would wake up every hour or so and start vomiting again (or have diarrhea) and crying out in pain. They’d make me tough it out for awhile and finally would do the shot thing again. It sucked. I was in a room with three other patients, the TVs were blaring, the lights were all on, and people were walking all around. Not much privacy and not much discern for the pain I was in. IT was very frustrating. The last things you want when you’re that sick are people around, noise, and light.
I finally stopped throwing up after about 13 hours. I had a couple bites of mashed potatoes for dinner and finished a bottle of water. I asked for another bottle of water to which they kindly informed me they only provide the first one for free – you have to get your own water after that. Luckily, I had Gifti, one of our amazing program staff, with me so she got me some water and apple juice. Seriously – you only get one water?!?
Our Head PD came to check on me and when she learned of the conditions she was pissed. I had not actually been tested for anything (no blood, urine, or fecal tests) and they had already misdiagnosed me once. She was not happy. She was on the phone with our international health insurance trying to figure out what to do. She wanted to transfer me to a different hospital in town and there was talk, for a brief time, of getting me air evacuated out of the country to France. I have not yet been to France, but am planning on going in a few weeks – I’d rather go on different terms. Mostly she was concerned and upset and trying to get stuff done. Not having many advocate for me as a child, I really appreciated it. Everything was slowing down by this point so we decided to let me sleep it off.
I slept off and on overnight getting up every few hours for a bathroom visit. It’s a process when you’re carting around that damn IV carrier with you everywhere you go. The power went off and some point so we had to sleep without the air conditioning and it was not the most comfortable of situations. By 9AM I finally stopped with the diarrhea. They kept pumping me with saline and antibiotics. The Asst. PD came to visit around noon and started to push for me to get discharged. They were hesitant, but I wanted to go. Plus, I missed the slave castles this morning in Cape Coast and really want to go for tomorrow’s excursions. I was awake more today and caught an episode of Friends on the TV (they have TV, but you only get one water) and watched a lot of the local version of MTV (when MTV was actually the music television channel). I even heard some Enya on a commercial and caught part of Beauty and the Beast (it looked like a holiday version?). The doctors, nurses, and my roommates (and all of their visitors) were all so very nice and sweet and concerned and loving. Nurse Elizabeth was my favorite – she was so maternal and sweet and just when she would look into my eyes I felt better. No matter where you are, humans can be truly wonderful people who care about you just because you are a living, breathing human. I love that genuine, real connection with people.
By 4PM (Wednesday) I was finally discharged. I came back to the hostel tonight to find we had no electricity or water. I have officially sat in my own filth for 3 days – I am so sexy. I had a few bites of rice for dinner (still no appetite) and am about to shower and get to bed so I can awake for our 5AM departure (Thursday) to Cape Coast to catch up with the group. I will have missed the tour of the Elmina Slave Fortress World Heritage Monument under UNESCO, but will see the Slave River and the Cape Coast Slave Fortress. There will also be a nice dinner with "cultural entertainment" tomorrow night. Friday morning we travel to Kakum National Park for the ethnobotantical trail and eco-tourism lecture. I am glad I get to go. What a journey.
Traveling sure is fun, but it definitely isn’t all rainbows and puppies, that’s for darn sure.
01 June 2009
Day 6: Ashaiman Secondary High School
“Ashaiman Secondary High School: Modernization calls for change”
After months of imagining what Ashaiman Secondary High School (ASHS) might look like and developing a program in my mind of ways to work with the student population, it all finally came to fruition today when we met with the Headmaster of ASHS, Emmanuel Fiemawhle and Assistant Headmaster III (of Social Welfare), Michael K. Gbologah. ASHS is a 3-year private school (the Government currently requires 3 years of secondary education). Students apply for admission to ASHS in their final year of primary school and are accepted into one of four subject specific programmes: Agricultural Sciences (Horticulture, Fisheries), Visual Arts (Graphic design), Home Economics (Clothing & Textiles, Food & Nutrition, Management & Living), and General Arts (choose 3 from: History, Geography, Economics, Government, Literature, Christian Religious Studies, Music, or Language: French, Twi, Ga/Dengme, Ewe). All students complete core coursework all three years in English, Mathematics, Integrated Sciences, Social Sciences, and Physical Education. Of the programmes offered, General Arts accepts the largest class of 155 students; followed by Agriculture of 90 students; Visual Arts and Home Economics both accept 45 students each year. Because space is limited, programmes can be competitive.
The school was formed in 1991 with two teachers, thirty students and offered two programmes: Agricultural Science and Vocational Studies (which consisted of Home Economics and Visual Arts). Land was obtained from the Ghana Water and Sewerage Corporation. I am not sure if it was government mandated, donated, or purchased, but I believe it may have been government related. Because the land was then full of motor mechanics, the first set of students spent much of their time removing abandoned scraps and generally cleaning up the space. Obviously, students did not complete normal academic work during this time. Also, classrooms did not have yet have furniture. The only complete structure on the building at that time is the current Science classroom. The current main classroom block of four rooms was then being constructed.
The two teachers, anxious to get started with academic work, went to the local community seeking furniture for the classrooms. Various tribal unions donated benches and planks which were then places on piles of cement blocks to serve as classroom tables and chairs. This worked, temporarily, though students were getting hurt when the benches or planks would drop. Ouch!
The school has grown rapidly over the past 15+ years and now consists of four main classroom blocks. Classrooms are open aired, but covered with a tin roof. Classrooms do not have overhead light and rely on the sunlight. Most rooms have desks and a chalkboard, however some rooms are overcrowded. As many as 70 students may be in one class at a time. The school has over 1000 students, 48 teaching staff, and 21 non-teaching staff (administrative, cleaning, security). There is a canteen on site where students may purchase food for breakfast and/or lunch.
A typical day for an ASHS student is as follows:
7AM: Arrive to compound. Tidy up classrooms, stair cases and immediate surroundings of school.
7:25 – 7:40AM: Morning Assembly on Mondays and Fridays
7:35 – 8:15AM: Worship on Wednesdays
8:25 – 9:45AM: Class Session I
9:45 – 10:15AM: Morning Break. Canteen open and some students eat a snack or breakfast
10:15 – 11:35AM: Class Session II
11:35 – 12:55PM: Class Session III
12:55 – 1:15PM: Afternoon Break. Canteen open.
1:15 – 2:35PM: Class Session IV
2:35PM: Day ends and students may leave for the day.
2:45 – 4:05PM: OPTIONAL Class Session V which most students stay at school for the extra learning. (It is not tutoring for remedial students; it is an extra class option in which most students willingly participate)
There are several rules that students must follow that were surprising to me. Girls, for example are not allowed to perm, press, blow, or have her hair chemically treated. No hair accessories such as ribbons, combs or clips are allowed. No make up, including nail polish, is permitted nor is jewelry, such as bangles, chains, rings, or beads allowed. Boys cannot blow or wear their hair bushy and a beard or moustaches is ‘strictly forbidden.’ Boys are also not allowed to wear chains, rings, or caps. Neither boys nor girls are allowed to wear “dark goggles,” which I assume are sunglasses. Severe consequences are in place for various offenses. In most cases, the first offense results in a warning or suspension and second offense is dismissal. Exceptions include sexual misconduct, assault of staff, pregnancy or abortion which results in immediate withdrawal or dismissal. I wonder how rules around sexuality are administered. Are boys dismissed if they impregnate a girl (which should fall under sexual misconduct)?
In many ways, walking on this compound today reminded me of stories from my grandmother of her experiences in school – single classrooms, corporal punishment, gendered practices. It feels like I am in a movie in the 1940s sometimes.
The school is still in need of basic infrastructure for their students. The science lab needs tables, chairs, and basic teaching/learning materials (for example, there are no beakers, no periodical table of elements, etc.). The visual arts department needs a working space (with overhead light), drafting tables (or other appropriate spaces for creating arts), and a darkroom where screens could be developed and reproduced. The math department needs teaching/learning materials (workbooks, multiplication tables, etc.), calculators, and graphing sheets. The social science department needs classrooms, geography materials (maps, globes), and teaching/learning materials (updated textbooks). The agriculture department needs fencing for land, teaching/learning materials, and reference books.
Despite the challenges and needs of the school, several students go on to pass final examinations and gain admission to the Universities, Nursing Training Colleges, Teacher Training Colleges, and Polytechnics. Despite not having a field for training, ASHS male and female students and teams have won local sports competitions in cross country running and volleyball.
For our programme, the Headmaster would like for us to work with both boys and girls focusing on goal setting and reaching your goals. He said many of the students struggle with determination and motivation. My group (3-5 of us) will be going into every classroom for a little over an hour to lead these workshops. I will also provide training for the Peer Consulate group who can carry on these workshops. I will develop a curriculum and training manual they can use in the future. I am also going to work on setting up a pen-pal program for students. My colleagues will work more directly with staff to provide training and consultation. In addition, he requested our assistance with website development and gathering needed supplies and materials. We have a lot on our plate!
We had a late lunch at Agbamami Restaurant in Tema where I tried to have some soup and salad. I had not been feeling very well most of the day. I still was pretty achy and tired and had another sweating spell. Over the past couple of days I have been having sweating spells where I just start pouring sweat, even if I am in air conditioning. Strange. I thought some soup or a light lunch might help. It really didn’t.
Later in the evening, we went to a fancy dinner at The African Regent which dubs its’ self as the “Afropolitan.” We had a full buffet with options ranging from Mediterranean to local cuisine. Tonight was supposed to be our working dinner planning time for our projects. Unfortunately our Headmaster could not make it. I was so hungry but did not have an appetite. I tried to get down a piece of bread before having my first round of diarrhea. Shortly after I had another sweating spell. I had talked with one of my colleagues about how I was feeling – she became concerned and told our PD who then informed me I needed to go to the hospital because I may have malaria. Awesome.
Reluctantly I went to the local hospital, Nyaho Medical Centre. The hospital reminds me of a military type facility. All white, older looking buildings. The lobby is outdoors (covered, but hot and sticky). I filled out a one-page intake form and was ushered to another waiting room where a nurse took my blood pressure and temperature (with an old school thermometer that she dried off with a napkin before sticking under my armpit). After that I was called into the Doctor’s office. The Dr. asked what my symptoms were; I told him. His diagnosis: beginning signs of malaria. I didn’t think malaria could show up so soon, but he said it could show up as early as 3 days to 1 week. I have been here 6 days today…so, I, of all people, apparently managed to get myself bitten by THE malaria mosquito basically upon arrival. Awesome. I was given a prescription of Artrin and sent on my way. All in all, the cost of the visit with prescription was 39 cedis (about $28). Good deal. I’m going to rest tonight and hope I am better tomorrow. They want me to stay home and rest, but I really do not want to miss tomorrow’s lectures: Indigenous Religions, Spirit World, and Ancestors; and Ancient & Contemporary Art. I am so stubborn sometimes.
After months of imagining what Ashaiman Secondary High School (ASHS) might look like and developing a program in my mind of ways to work with the student population, it all finally came to fruition today when we met with the Headmaster of ASHS, Emmanuel Fiemawhle and Assistant Headmaster III (of Social Welfare), Michael K. Gbologah. ASHS is a 3-year private school (the Government currently requires 3 years of secondary education). Students apply for admission to ASHS in their final year of primary school and are accepted into one of four subject specific programmes: Agricultural Sciences (Horticulture, Fisheries), Visual Arts (Graphic design), Home Economics (Clothing & Textiles, Food & Nutrition, Management & Living), and General Arts (choose 3 from: History, Geography, Economics, Government, Literature, Christian Religious Studies, Music, or Language: French, Twi, Ga/Dengme, Ewe). All students complete core coursework all three years in English, Mathematics, Integrated Sciences, Social Sciences, and Physical Education. Of the programmes offered, General Arts accepts the largest class of 155 students; followed by Agriculture of 90 students; Visual Arts and Home Economics both accept 45 students each year. Because space is limited, programmes can be competitive.
The school was formed in 1991 with two teachers, thirty students and offered two programmes: Agricultural Science and Vocational Studies (which consisted of Home Economics and Visual Arts). Land was obtained from the Ghana Water and Sewerage Corporation. I am not sure if it was government mandated, donated, or purchased, but I believe it may have been government related. Because the land was then full of motor mechanics, the first set of students spent much of their time removing abandoned scraps and generally cleaning up the space. Obviously, students did not complete normal academic work during this time. Also, classrooms did not have yet have furniture. The only complete structure on the building at that time is the current Science classroom. The current main classroom block of four rooms was then being constructed.
The two teachers, anxious to get started with academic work, went to the local community seeking furniture for the classrooms. Various tribal unions donated benches and planks which were then places on piles of cement blocks to serve as classroom tables and chairs. This worked, temporarily, though students were getting hurt when the benches or planks would drop. Ouch!
The school has grown rapidly over the past 15+ years and now consists of four main classroom blocks. Classrooms are open aired, but covered with a tin roof. Classrooms do not have overhead light and rely on the sunlight. Most rooms have desks and a chalkboard, however some rooms are overcrowded. As many as 70 students may be in one class at a time. The school has over 1000 students, 48 teaching staff, and 21 non-teaching staff (administrative, cleaning, security). There is a canteen on site where students may purchase food for breakfast and/or lunch.
A typical day for an ASHS student is as follows:
7AM: Arrive to compound. Tidy up classrooms, stair cases and immediate surroundings of school.
7:25 – 7:40AM: Morning Assembly on Mondays and Fridays
7:35 – 8:15AM: Worship on Wednesdays
8:25 – 9:45AM: Class Session I
9:45 – 10:15AM: Morning Break. Canteen open and some students eat a snack or breakfast
10:15 – 11:35AM: Class Session II
11:35 – 12:55PM: Class Session III
12:55 – 1:15PM: Afternoon Break. Canteen open.
1:15 – 2:35PM: Class Session IV
2:35PM: Day ends and students may leave for the day.
2:45 – 4:05PM: OPTIONAL Class Session V which most students stay at school for the extra learning. (It is not tutoring for remedial students; it is an extra class option in which most students willingly participate)
There are several rules that students must follow that were surprising to me. Girls, for example are not allowed to perm, press, blow, or have her hair chemically treated. No hair accessories such as ribbons, combs or clips are allowed. No make up, including nail polish, is permitted nor is jewelry, such as bangles, chains, rings, or beads allowed. Boys cannot blow or wear their hair bushy and a beard or moustaches is ‘strictly forbidden.’ Boys are also not allowed to wear chains, rings, or caps. Neither boys nor girls are allowed to wear “dark goggles,” which I assume are sunglasses. Severe consequences are in place for various offenses. In most cases, the first offense results in a warning or suspension and second offense is dismissal. Exceptions include sexual misconduct, assault of staff, pregnancy or abortion which results in immediate withdrawal or dismissal. I wonder how rules around sexuality are administered. Are boys dismissed if they impregnate a girl (which should fall under sexual misconduct)?
In many ways, walking on this compound today reminded me of stories from my grandmother of her experiences in school – single classrooms, corporal punishment, gendered practices. It feels like I am in a movie in the 1940s sometimes.
The school is still in need of basic infrastructure for their students. The science lab needs tables, chairs, and basic teaching/learning materials (for example, there are no beakers, no periodical table of elements, etc.). The visual arts department needs a working space (with overhead light), drafting tables (or other appropriate spaces for creating arts), and a darkroom where screens could be developed and reproduced. The math department needs teaching/learning materials (workbooks, multiplication tables, etc.), calculators, and graphing sheets. The social science department needs classrooms, geography materials (maps, globes), and teaching/learning materials (updated textbooks). The agriculture department needs fencing for land, teaching/learning materials, and reference books.
Despite the challenges and needs of the school, several students go on to pass final examinations and gain admission to the Universities, Nursing Training Colleges, Teacher Training Colleges, and Polytechnics. Despite not having a field for training, ASHS male and female students and teams have won local sports competitions in cross country running and volleyball.
For our programme, the Headmaster would like for us to work with both boys and girls focusing on goal setting and reaching your goals. He said many of the students struggle with determination and motivation. My group (3-5 of us) will be going into every classroom for a little over an hour to lead these workshops. I will also provide training for the Peer Consulate group who can carry on these workshops. I will develop a curriculum and training manual they can use in the future. I am also going to work on setting up a pen-pal program for students. My colleagues will work more directly with staff to provide training and consultation. In addition, he requested our assistance with website development and gathering needed supplies and materials. We have a lot on our plate!
We had a late lunch at Agbamami Restaurant in Tema where I tried to have some soup and salad. I had not been feeling very well most of the day. I still was pretty achy and tired and had another sweating spell. Over the past couple of days I have been having sweating spells where I just start pouring sweat, even if I am in air conditioning. Strange. I thought some soup or a light lunch might help. It really didn’t.
Later in the evening, we went to a fancy dinner at The African Regent which dubs its’ self as the “Afropolitan.” We had a full buffet with options ranging from Mediterranean to local cuisine. Tonight was supposed to be our working dinner planning time for our projects. Unfortunately our Headmaster could not make it. I was so hungry but did not have an appetite. I tried to get down a piece of bread before having my first round of diarrhea. Shortly after I had another sweating spell. I had talked with one of my colleagues about how I was feeling – she became concerned and told our PD who then informed me I needed to go to the hospital because I may have malaria. Awesome.
Reluctantly I went to the local hospital, Nyaho Medical Centre. The hospital reminds me of a military type facility. All white, older looking buildings. The lobby is outdoors (covered, but hot and sticky). I filled out a one-page intake form and was ushered to another waiting room where a nurse took my blood pressure and temperature (with an old school thermometer that she dried off with a napkin before sticking under my armpit). After that I was called into the Doctor’s office. The Dr. asked what my symptoms were; I told him. His diagnosis: beginning signs of malaria. I didn’t think malaria could show up so soon, but he said it could show up as early as 3 days to 1 week. I have been here 6 days today…so, I, of all people, apparently managed to get myself bitten by THE malaria mosquito basically upon arrival. Awesome. I was given a prescription of Artrin and sent on my way. All in all, the cost of the visit with prescription was 39 cedis (about $28). Good deal. I’m going to rest tonight and hope I am better tomorrow. They want me to stay home and rest, but I really do not want to miss tomorrow’s lectures: Indigenous Religions, Spirit World, and Ancestors; and Ancient & Contemporary Art. I am so stubborn sometimes.
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