52 Weeks

I have been lucky enough to be selected by Project Trust to spend a year in Nsanfo, Ghana, teaching at a Methodist Basic School! To keep you guys and gals in the loop, here's what I've been getting up to...

[52weeksinghana-blog]

A Nation Decides

For those of us who are, like me, of the more liberal persuasion, 2016 could be seen as a year of political disappointments. Between Britain voting to leave the European Union and America electing an overgrown child with a blatant disregard for women, foreigners and journalists as their president-elect, it could be said that this has been a very bad year for the left. Enter Nana Akufo-Addo. Born in 1944, Nana is the Flag-Bearer (leader) of the New Patriotic Party (NPP), and as of Sunday December 10th 2016( after securing 53.27 of the total votes from 233 of the 275 constituencies) the new President of the Republic of Ghana. In a fiercely contested race, Nana was not only able to defeat incumbent President, John Dramani Mahama of the National Democratic Congress (NDC), but was able to break, as one newspaper reported (in one the best pieces of political satire I've ever read) the myth "that without John prefixing your name you cannot be President of Ghana" (the past 24 years the Presidents have been: John Mahama, John Mills, John Kufour and Jerry John Rawlings). A few weeks ago I happened to sit in on a meeting of the NDC, at that point still in government, and let Eunice, an NDC supporter with very good english translate what was being promised by the prospective MP. They included building of a Tarmac road, expanded hospital capacity and better toilets for the village. Now, even though these would have been extremely good things for the people of the region, when I asked Eunice where the money to pay for all this would come from, there didn't really seem to be an answer. And when, at the end of the meeting, the speaker starting handing out money to the people, I had my mind made up about the NDC. It seemed to me, and to a lot of Ghanaians that I spoke to on the subject, that they're campaign seemed to largely based on empty promises and rhetoric (which can in no way be linked to Western politics *cough cough Donald Trump's promise of a Muslim Registry cough cough*). However, even though his government has become renowned for corruption, corruption that Nana has promised to deal with when in office, there is one thing that Mahama and the NDC can be commended for. In November, Mahama made a speech while campaigning in the Greater Accra Region, declaring that him, and the NDC, would accept the result of the Election and urged the opposition parties to do the same. Even though he also used the speech to accuse other parties of trying to throw the result of the upcoming election (that he was sure he was going to win) into disrepute, there must be something said about his, and the opposition parties upholding of the democratic process. Having only regained multi-party democracy in 1991, after being a one-party state since the country gained independence in 1957, the democratic process, and especially the electoral process, is still quite a delicate thing here, even to the point that a lot of the news coverage on and around the election focused on the calls for free and fair election from everyone from religious leaders to the international community, and so Mahama's call to accept the result of the election, no matter the result, should not be underestimated in its importance. Especially when you compare it to the run up of the U.S. Election, where Donald Trump said that he would only accept the result of the election 'if he won'. Compare the two and you get two completely different stories. One is a country that has only had free and fair elections for 24 years, whose potential leaders respect and upheld the democratic process; and the other that has always prided itself on its democracy and it's freedom, whose leader categorically says that he would not listen to the people if they weren't saying what he wanted to hear. It really should be the other way round shouldn't it? Like The Gambia's President Yahya Jammeh; who has refused to accept the result of his country's election, which saw Mr Amada Barrow emerge victorious on December 1st, and has launched his country into internal turmoil, with Barrow telling the BBC that we will declare himself President of The Gambia on January 18th, while Jammeh has both launched a court action to annul the result, as well as his security forces seizing control of the electoral commission in the capital, Banjul. It is scary when the "land of the free" starts to undermine on of the underlying freedoms that has formed the basis of the country since its birth. It is even more scary when you think of what effect it could have on the wider world. Here in Ghana, The west, and especially America, it's very much looked up to; there are shoes that have the Stars and Stripes printed on them, Obama opened a university here, and guess what I saw on the front cover of some of my students exercise books? A picture of Barack Obama shaking hands with Hilary Clinton. And so when you have a candidate for the Presidency of that county openly say that he "doesn't care" about people's outrage at his undermining of democracy, it sets a dangerous precedent for democracy going forward, especially if that man goes on to win the election. However, not all is lost. I showed my JHS1 class a picture of Donald Trump the other day, their thoughts went pretty much this: -White Man is ugly -Obama is better looking -don't want him in charge of a country -He is (and these are their words) a White Monkey So at least the Ghanaian youth know a bad egg when they see it. Until next time, Lukas

[52weeksinghana-blog]

It's been a long time!

I must start this post with an apology: I realise that I have not posted on here for a while, I have been kept busy thanks to the exam preparation I have been doing with my students, meaning that I have not been able to focus on keeping you guys informed, and have constantly been chastising myself to do a blog but constantly forgetting to do so, making it fall into the same category as cleaning your room or doing your taxes. But enough of the excuses. School's out for the winter! First term has been and gone, first term exams have been and gone, and the stress of the first term exams has been and gone. Having sat (for most of my life so far) on the other side of the exam room, finally being in the examiners chair showed me that it is difficult for both sides, and not (as I had thought as a student) 'easy'. However, that is all over now, and we now count down the days until we depart for basically a months traveling around Ghana with the rest of the Volunteers, who we are to meet in Accra, with Christmas spent in probably one of the most idyllic places in the world, the beautiful seaside paradise that is Busua (pronounced booze-e-a), where we plan to surf, tan and relax). It is then up to Keta and Ada Foah, places that I know very little about, but when I know, you'll know. I hope your Holidays are as good as mine are going to be. Until next time, Lukas xx

[52weeksinghana-blog]

Black and Red

An ambulance goes by the school, in front of it, a cameraman sits out the passenger window filming it. We hear it go and then all is quiet. We turn back to our work, JHS English and Basic School Science lessons won't plan themselves. An hour or so later, we are finishing up our lesson when we hear again the soft whine of the ambulance in the distance, maybe even as far over as the next village. As it grows louder and louder, we can also hear shouting and beeping of horns. Again the ambulance comes into view and again it is proceeded by a cameraman leaning dangerously out a car window. However, this time trailing it is another car, filled to bursting point with people, all shouting, all leaning out their windows, all dressed in Black and Red. Extremely confused but immensely interested, we ask one of our students what is going on. "Someone has died," is his response "it's a funeral." 'Where's the respect? The privacy for the family?' You could ask, but the answer is simple. In such a social country as Ghana, everything is shared; Ghanians have never heard of suffering in silence. A funeral to a Ghanaian is less a recognition of one's death, but much more a celebration of one's life. Friday is when a funeral starts. The day, known as "the wake-uping", known as such because no one goes to sleep. The whole of Friday night is taken up by festivities and enjoyment. The enjoyment was still going on when I went out to get breakfast Saturday morning, and with everyone grabbing me wanting to chat, it was the longest and most trip to go but bread I have ever had. Saturday is full Black and Red day. Anybody with any connection to Nsanfo shows up, including our landlady who feeds us Fufu which is so hot that I have to stick my hand in the freezer to cool it down. Everyone is out on the streets, Black and Red sheets hang from all the telephone poles in town, the atmosphere is electric. But with Jack, who has fallen ill thanks to our once and defiantly only time reheating food, not being in much of a way to go out and be part of it, I don't feel much like going either. What would Sherlock be without his Watson? So we decide to stay in on Saturday and recuperate, which unfortunately means we miss the actual burial. The next day is Sunday, Church day. It is Church day every Sunday, but the Sunday of a funeral is even more of a Church day, with each church holding it's own Thanksgivings service for the deceased, with Black and Red being Replaced by beautifully patterned Black and White dresses for the women and gowns made from Kente Cloth (an amazing and elegantly patterned traditional Ghanian cloth) for the men. Overall the whole experience of a Ghanaian funeral is one that I will never forget. They say that in Ghana the greatest party of your life is your funeral, the only one you're not invited to, and I can say that, from experiencing it first hand, I couldn't agree with the statement more. Until next time, Much Love xxx 😊

[52weeksinghana-blog]

Sir Lukas

Straight out of an advert for a nutrigrain bar, my mornings usually all start the same: being woken up by the sound of a hen shouting to the wind. I roll over in my warm weather sleeping bag, put on my glasses and check my phone. It is never any time past 5:15, as that is my alarm (which I always seem to be awake before). Next is an ice cold shower and a breakfast of either eggs and toast or a Ghanian dish called Garri (made from some kind of wheat, peanuts, powdered milk and a heap of sugar, mixed all together in cold water). Why am I up so early? Both me and Jack have an early morning classes to teach, one that starts at 6:30. The idea behind these early starts is to (for me at least) to improve the JHS (Junior High School) 1's reading ability. This is the first thing that has surprised me about it being an english teacher here; it is completely different than how it was taught to me. But it makes complete sense. I grew up speaking English as my first language and so a lot of the English language stuff I learnt in school was stuff I was already subliminally aware of. But for these kids, whose first language is Fante, not English, not much of it will come naturally to them. That being said, they understand an impressive amount of what I say, certainly a lot more than I understand of the Fante spoken to me. However, always an eager learner, I have started amassing Fante in a journal, which I hope to be full of useful words and phrases by the end of the year. After I am done with my first lesson, which ends at 7:20 for the kids to be able to grab a bite to eat from the stalls set up opposite the school, I take up a chair either in the teachers office or the porch overlooking the road to Anamobu, and wait for my main lesson of the day. Again with the JHS 1s, and again English, but this time more focused on the syllabus. Last week we covered pure vowel sounds, with Hangman being my main teaching mechanism, introducing the kids to each new sound one game at a time and getting them to contribute words after they had grasped the sound itself. As for this week, we set off on the journey of learning nouns; their types, their uses, their rules. For this, Charades proved to be a class favourite, with students impersonations of a chicken and someone pounding fufu (with me in a supporting role) proving too funny for some, with one even rolling on the floor in fits of laughter. Once school is over it is back home to mark and prepare for the next day's lessons. After this is done, our minds (and our stomachs) turn to dinner. When we get to our cook Patricia's house, one of two things will happen. We will either: have a talk with her about what she would like to make or what we feel like having, or, this being such a social country, she will invite us to sit down and have dinner with her and her family. Dishes here, besides rice and soup dishes, are exclusively eaten with your hands, and so before you can tuck in, you are given a small bowl with some water in it, making you feel a bit like a surgeon preparing for surgery. Now, I have mentioned before a dish called Fufu, and promised to to into detail about what it is exactly, and being a man of my word I shall give it my best shot to describe it to you. The dish of Fufu starts with the mashing of two of three possible ingredients: Plantain (a sort of bitter version of a banana that tastes more like sweet potato than anything else), Maize (something that looks rather like sweetcorn but again, tastes nothing like it) and Cassava (a plant that I have seen being grown but still have no idea what it looks like). These are mashed by someone with a big wooden pole in a rather large wooden bowl on the floor. At the relevant points, more water is added to keep the mixture from sticking to the side, with another person turning the mixture over with their hands between powerful smashes of the pole. In a matter of an hour or so, you have something with the consistency and look of mashed potatoes but with a taste unlike anything you've ever had before. Oh yes, talking of taste, Fufu alone doesn't really have one, as you do not chew it as you would a usual dish. While all the pounding and turning is going on, the sauce is also being prepared. As with most other dishes in Ghana, tomatoes take a leading role in the sauce, either crushed or thinly sliced. There is also a large amount of chilli in there as well, making you reach for a pure water (treated water that comes in packets rather than bottles) There is also fish or meat of some kind, meaning that you spend about 20% of the meal fishing (pardon the terrible pun) the bones out of your teeth. Once the meal is over, you wash your hands again, as your fingers seem to have turned a rather appealing orange colour, wipe your mouth and lie back, content and full. Sir Lukas is now my official name. That or "Obroni" (a nickname meaning "white man"), which can be heard to be shouted by small voices whenever we walk down the street, and is even called through our windows by some of the really small kids (there is almost no privacy for us here, with the toilet and shower being the only rooms without windows that can be peaked through). However, I am not complaining. Even at points in these last couple of weeks where I have not been feeling my best (as my body gets used to the climate and diet) I wouldn't like to be anywhere else. My job is amazing, this county is fantastic and life is good. I hope it is for the rest of you as well. Until next time, Much Love xxx 😊

[52weeksinghana-blog]

Welcome to Nsanfo

The road to Nsanfo is pretty much straight, with you only passing through three small hamlets before you get to the village. However, as the spider-webbed windshields of the taxi windows can attest, what the road lacks in curves it makes up for in bumps. Even in Nana's 4x4, your back doesn't get much of a rest until you reach the flattest ground for miles around. This is one of the two main roads in the village. We are here. After a quick introduction to our landlady, we (me and Jack, my partner) are shown through to our rooms. Two beds, a desk and (excitingly) a fridge is there to greet us. Just at we are thinking they we should up out and get our bags, two students of around 15 years of age casually make their way into the room, two bags (both weighing anything from 19-21kg) atop their heads. Astounded by their generosity, we thank them enough and introduce ourselves. Their names are Phillip and Randy, they are in their last year of the Junior High School, and inform us they are to show us around the village. After saying our goodbyes to Nana, we are introduced to Isaac Sey; Maths teacher, our protector and all-around nice guy. He tells us we are to start by observing lessons the next day, and that we will start teaching proper on Monday (the 19th). Excited, we start on our tour of Nsanfo. Our first stop is the school. A lovely brick building, modestly covered in yellow plaster, it is split into halves; the basic school (primary school) and the junior secondary (years 7-9 to us Brits). There is also a third part, which I will talk about later. Next it is on to Phillip's house, where we are shown pictures of last year's volunteers, Alex and Tom, photos that Phillip shows great pride in owning. After that it is down the the sports ground and past that to what we find out is Phillip's farm, a picturesque that grows maize, one of the staple ingredients in the Ghanian dish Fufu. It isn't until the next day that we are introduced to another of the main ingredients that is used in a lot of Fufu recipes, Cassava, that they grow on the schools own farm, that we had passed on our way into the village. Planted, harvested and maintained all by the kids themselves, the impressive farm is another example of the maturity level a lot of these kids have. But it must be remembered that these are still kids, and so there is still a lot of fun had by all while doing these labouring tasks. Unfortunately, here's another point where mistakes are made on our part. Wanting to have some food stuffs to speak of around the house, (even though one of our neighbours, Patricia, cooks for us almost nightly, with us only having to pay for ingredients) we decide to go into Anamabou, our nearest city, to get them. My stupidity and the language barrier means that, when we come back, thinking we have bought a whole lot of Bananas, we have actually bought a lot of Plantain, another main ingredient of many Fufu dishes, a vegetable that, more importantly, can't be eaten raw, as it will give you a stomach ache. Well done again, Lukas. Going to bed on the second night, both me and Jack are excited for the weeks to come, with our first real experience of teaching fast approaching, it is time to put our heads down and prepare. However, much like the kids, just because we have serious responsibilities to prepare for, doesn't mean we can't have fun in the process... Until next time, Much Love xxx 😊

[52weeksinghana-blog]

Messing Up, Messing Around and Moving On

[52weeksinghana-blog]

A year in two bags

Hello everyone,

Sorry that this has taken me so long to get around to doing, have been busy making the most of my remaining time in Blighty. But no matter, after much teasing, here is my OFFICIAL Ghana blog.

Although my year is yet to start (we fly to the capital city Accra on Sunday) I feel like the year has started already, thanks to the exhaustive preparation I have been doing. After ransacking Boots (for hygiene supplies) and Ryman’s (for teaching supplies) the year has actually become so much more real to me than it was before. Now, that’s not to say that it wasn’t real to me before, but now that I physically have all the things I am taking with me, the year seems much less hypothetical than it did before, if that makes any sense...

It is now less than 72 hours before I will find myself in Heathrow, waiting for the 6 hour flight with the rest of the Ghana volunteers, and I couldn't be more excited. However, I will not let my excitement get in the way of logical thinking, and so it is time to pack, unpack and pack again, until I am forced out of the house. I do not want to get to Ghana and realise I have left my phone on the kitchen table. Even though I never have been (and hopefully never will be) a boy scout, in this particular situation, I find that the key is to “be prepared”

And finally, for all of you who have supported me, both emotionally and financially in my year up until now, I just wanted to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much, you all mean the world to me, and I literally wouldn’t be able to go on the year I am about to go on without your help. So in all seriousness, THANK YOU XXXXXXXXX

All the best, and until the next time,

Lukas :)

P.S. Here’s a shot to give you an idea of what I will be taking with me.