Home

I'm home now.  Got home yesterday afternoon, May 2nd.  The most remarkable thing about home is how easy it is to get back into old routines that feel just like home.  Last night, we decided to go out for some takeout, got in the car and I drove for the first time in 3 months.  It felt like I never left.  Waking this morning, Saturday, and going through the usual routine of granola, reading the paper, coffee and doing the puzzle - within an instant, Ghana has become so far away and seemingly so long ago.

As I tell people about Ghana, I feel a real fondness for the place.  Within the short time I've been back from Ghana, I'm already looking back and seeing that that it was a very good experience - a happy time - for me.  It felt great to learn and experience a new culture.

As people ask me about Ghana, I feel so limited describing it.  Ghana is so different from here and so hard to explain.  I struggle to explain how it was, because I want to get it right.  I know it is too easy for people to think of it as poor or that the government is corrupt and squanders it's money.  Ghana is a vibrant culture full of wonderful people.  As much as other people try, it cannot be wrapped up in a line or two.

It was fun writing this blog.  Much of what I wrote were my thoughts as I was trying to figure out aspects of Ghana.  I have not gone back to re-read anything because I know it will trouble me.  Often, within a day of publishing, I would learn something new that I wish I knew the day before - something that would explain an issue I had just written about.  I decided the blog should reflect my contemporaneous thoughts.

Thanks to everyone who read my blog.  As of May 3rd, it has been visited 627 times, which amazes me.  I am grateful.

Now to work on where to go next . . . .

A trip to Kpando and Koforidua (with photos)

Last weekend (April 12-14) I traveled to Kpando, which is on the eastern shore of Lake Volta and to Kofridua, which is in the hill area between Lake Volta and Accra.  We made visits to a monkey sanctuary and to Boti Falls.

My ride to Kpando is quite illustrative of many quirks when traveling in Ghana.  I went to a station in Accra to find a tro-tro (mini-bus) to Kpando.  I board the tro-tro shortly after 9am and then sit for another hour, because tro-tro’s do not leave until they are full.  This is a general rule.  There is no such thing as a tro-tro schedule.  It’s all about getting enough fares paid.  Some will leave after a critical mass of passengers are met and then hope to pick up more fares along the way.  For local travel, the tro-tro’s fill rather quickly, but Kpando is not a major route.

Shortly after we leave, the driver gets into an argument on the phone.  Without my speaking Twi, I can tell the conversation is about money and how much the driver will be paid.  Fifteen minutes from the station, the driver turns around to go back and finish the argument.  More time is wasted and we finally get underway at 10:30am.

We drive for two hours or more, making excellent progress because it is the weekend and traffic is light – until we get to the Volta River.  Lake Volta is a massive lake formed by a large hydro-electric dam and the tro-tro must cross the river below the dam.  There is one bridge in the area and it is having major repair work.  We drive to a ferry crossing about 2 miles down river from the bridge.  We enter a town where the ferry crosses and quickly come to a stop in the road and at least 20 women with trays of food on their heads are jostling to get to our windows.  They have water sachets, plantain chips, doughnuts (fried balls of sweet dough), hard boiled eggs that get sliced and slathered with hot sauce, kebabs of cockles (meat from mussles or snails?) and other kebabs of meat I cannot identify, banku (a warmed mushy ball of a fermented dough made with maize, which is like cornmeal and is a favorite food of most Ghanaians), grilled or smoke fish of all sizes, bags of red grilled shrimp with very long antennas, loaves of bread, a variety of drinks (some come in baggies and seem quite mysterious and dangerous), and more.

After about 15 minutes of sitting still and people what they like, the tro-tro has moved only a few yards.  It’s become clear that we are in line for the ferry and the doors are opened for people to get out of the tro-tro.  Men step out and openly pee into the drainage ditches at the side of the road and women go behind buildings.  I have been on tro-tro’s and fancy buses that suddenly pull over to the side of the road so the driver can walk to the passenger side and whiz into a ditch.  This usually prompts a few more men to do the same.  Women are more circumspect and try to find some cover, or they simply walk further away before they squat.  Where cars often line up in the road, such as at toll booths, there may be a concrete enclosure that serves as a women’s urinal.  No one is concerned about the men.   

As a case in point, I went to a local bar near my home one night to watch a football match and brought the 9 year old boy who lives with me.  All of a sudden, he jumps up and runs out the bar.  I’m sitting wondering where he went when he returns.  He tells me he had to go the toilet, which means he walked out to the street and peed into the drainage ditch on the side of the road.  He never considered using the bathroom at the bar.

Anyway, once out of the tro-tro, we can see that the line of cars is huge.  After about 100 yards, it turns into a parking lot/bus station that leads about 200 yards up a hill, makes a long u-turn and then heads back to the road and then heads another 200 yards down the road to the ferry.  There are a few hundred cars ahead of us.  My heart sinks as I realize this will be an all day affair.  I go back to grab my camera, and then go check out the scene.  Lots of people are milling about and there is an open market of stalls and hawkers to service the line of cars, trucks and buses.  Tents are set up in an open field, that I never got to, but I think it was where they offered beer and other drinks.

I walk down to the river and see that there are two ferry boats that look just like the ones that shuttle cars to and from Shelter Island.  There is one landing on each side, so neither can start until the both are ready to go.  Vehicles pay at a toll booth and people can walk on for free.  There is a crowd of people around the ferry and its taking 20 to 30 minutes to load each time and more to unload.  My heart sinks further as the wait seems endless.  It’s easy to meet and talk to people milling about, and after about 90 minutes, I decide to go back and sit in the tro-tro for a while.  To my shock, the tro-tro is about 20 cars from the ferry.  Somehow, it jumped the line, but I do not ask any questions, for fear it will put us back in line.  The ferry ride is mobbed with people.  People are selling everything, again, including photos of the ferries.  My first thought was that is a foolish business for a hawker, but then two people in my tro-tro purchased photos.

Traffic is clear on the other side and we are now heading into the Volta region.  Soon the paved road is pocked with craters like the moon and we are traversing the road like a skier to avoid the biggest holes.  There comes a point where one lane is paved and the other is dirt and cars try to stay on the pavement for as long as possible before pulling off to avoid another.  Driving on dirt raises a cloud of dust and at times it’s a bit scary with reduced vision.  The ride is incredibly bumpy with people leaning into each other as the car swerves from side to side.  With all this, people try to doze off while sitting up on a bench seat.  We arrived about 4pm, 7 hours after I got into the tro-tro in Accra.  A distance that would have taken about 2 hours if I was back home.

Kpando is a sizeable town in the hills that line the eastern shore of Lake Volta.  There is not a single restaurant in town.  All eating is from roadside stands.  I buy groundnut (peanut) soup with pieces of chicken and banku.  The soup is poured into a baggie and the banku comes pre-bagged.  No utensils or napkins are provided, as this is a food that is traditionally eaten by hand (banku gets dipped into the soup – spicy) and then you wash your hands.

The next day we have egg sandwiches and bananas on the street and then get taxis to the monkey sanctuary.  It’s a 30 minute ride on dirt roads through forests, open land and farm fields.  We arrive at a very small village.  The local forest has become a monkey preserve where the locals work to maintain the monkeys and their habitat and in return they get people coming to visit and paying for the pleasure.  We purchase a big bag of bananas and a guide takes us on a walk into the forest.  He makes loud kissing sounds as he walks, similar to how street sellers and taxi drivers in Accra try to get people’s attention.  We meet a small group of about 10 monkeys first and take time to feed and take their pictures.  We then walk a while and meet up with a large group of 30 or more monkeys.  They are Mona Monkeys, small, skinny and agile tree climbers and jumpers.  We are told to hold the banana’s firmly to force the monkeys to peel the banana in our hand and then remove the flesh.  Sometimes, they jump on us to get to the monkeys.  A couple climbed on me.  They do not stay long.  It feels like the hands of a small child.

After our time at the sanctuary, we head back to Kpando where most people head back to Accra to be able to be at work on Monday morning.  Four of us decide to travel to Koforidua and return to Accra on Monday night. 

We find the tro-tro to Koforidua and sit for an hour again waiting for it to fill up.  I buy lunch from the heads of woman through the car window, a “doughnut” and three oranges.  The oranges have had the rinds peeled off and the seller cuts the very top slice off so you can squeeze all the juice into your mouth,  Certain mangos that are too stringy to eat are eaten in the same manner.  We through the squeezed oranges on the ground and a little herd of goats roaming the tro-tro lot eats them.  

The ride to Koforidua is beautiful.  We have to cross the ferry again, but this time the tro-tro drops us off, so we can cross as walk-ons, and he refunds us 1.5 cedi's each to cover the cost of a cab to finish this leg of the trip.  In a second tro-tro we drive across rolling hills of farm fields with long views of lush green valleys.  Koforidua sits on top of some hills and is a pleasant small city.  The next morning we find a tro-tro to Boti falls, about a 45 minute ride into the hills.  The falls are the first place that appears set up for tourists. The falls are in a small gorge and a set of concrete stairs has been made leading down to the falls.  We are the only people here.  We go for a swim, enjoy the scenery and take a walk behind the falls.  We then make the ride back to Accra.

And now for the photos (please enlarge for full effect):

The line of cars from the ferry to the parking lot.  

The stalls set up to sell food to the waiting cars.  This is the line from the parking lot to the ferry.

This is the tower seen in the prior two photos.

The ferry crossing.  People can walk anywhere, including on and off the ferry.

The ferry crossing.

Our guide demonstrates how to feed the monkeys

Babies wrap around mother's belly with legs on her back, making easy access for suckling.

Ready to jump

We came out of the forest behind the village.  The wall to the left is made from mud.

Waiting for a few people who got lost on the way back

Boti falls - two falls, side by side.

The end.

more on legal aid and a trip to lake Bosumtwe (with photos)

I am getting to know better my way around legal aid and how this small office can be responsible for all of Greater Accra.  The maximum gross income to get free legal representation is 500 cedi’s a month, which is the equivalent of $200 a month. (!!!)  Very likely the majority of the country would qualify for our services, and the Accra region is over 2 million people.  And yet, on some days, the office is quiet.  How can that be?  My belief is that the government would like to keep legal aid small so that it does not cost too much.  Money is short and poor people’s rights suffer.

I find that when I tell people I work at legal aid, they say they never heard of it.  People just do not know about their right to legal aid, . . .  as well as most other basic rights.  The courthouses do not have any notices advising people of legal aid and I know of no effort to get the word out.  If someone comes into court on a criminal case and cannot afford an attorney, the court does not advise the defendant of legal aid.  I’m told that most criminal cases come into the office through family members who want to get someone out of jail.  I have not yet seen or heard of a criminal case here, and wonder where they are.  People who work here say that most of their clients hear of them through word of mouth or possibly because they met the right bureaucrat who told them about it.

As I mentioned before, all civil cases go through mediation before going to the attorneys, and the mediations have a high rate of success.  I’ve now sat in on a several of these, and the parties treat the mediations like a court case.  While they assert their positions forcefully, they take the advice of mediators seriously and have a surprising ability find some basis for coming to agreements.  There are usually about 10 mediations scheduled each day.

If a case cannot be settled through mediation or if the other side refuses to come in after 3 attempts (the last attempt includes service by the police), then the case is referred to the attorneys.  There are about 5 or 6 attorneys working in the office.  In addition, there is a list of about 25 to 30 attorneys who receive referral cases from legal aid and they are suppose to charge 10% of their regular fees.

I like the people here and it’s hard to believe most were randomly assigned through national service.  Talking to them is fun and opens up so many new areas of life here.  I find the law is very similar to home, except that the law takes into account traditional customs in dealing with marriage, property rights and inheritances.  This sometimes leads to some very sad outcomes.  Many people live in ancestral or family homes / property.  For example, if a man in the family dies, it is not uncommon to see cases where the wife and children are pushed out of the house / off the land by the man’s siblings.  Unfortunately, wife and kids have no rights under customary law, because the husband only had a customary right and not an ownership interest to the home or land he occupied.  Customary property rights are often derived from a chief ‘s grant to a family (chiefs still have a lot of power over ancestral lands), and the property rights do not pass by death to spouses.

Lake Bosumtwe

This past weekend, I traveled with 6 other volunteers to Lake Bosumtwe, which is about 30 km outside Kumasi, which is the 2^nd major city of Ghana.  We took a VIP bus on Friday night to Kumasi.  The buses are the nicest on the road and most expensive, not much different from a typical tourist bus in U.S.  To my surprise the road between the two major cities is a mess.  Some of the distance is a divided highway, 2 lanes each way, but a large section was never paved.  Just a bumpy, rutted dirt road with cars, trucks and buses are jockeying for position in the dust.

About half the distance is a two lane road that runs through small towns.  At each town, people sell food, drink and wares to the various vehicles through their windows.  And at each town, there are a series of speed bumps.  This all makes for a slow, bumpy, uncomfortable ride, even the nice bus.  Five hours to go 240 kilometers, which I think is about 165 miles.  Cost was 18 cedis ($6.50).

Lake Bosumtwe was formed by a meteor over a hundred million years ago.  It is surrounded a rings of hills that rise up just a few hundred yards from the shore.  The hills are lush, with many shades of green.  The lake is large, filled with rainwater, and has a number of small villages around the lake.  Farming goes on around the edges and the hills have small patches of plantains and cocoa planted.  The first day we took a long walk through farm fields looking for a trail to take us up one of the hills.  After about 2 hours of walking, we decided to just walk through a patch of cocoa trees planted at the bottom of a hill, hoping to find a trail leading up.  We found instead an area of cut trees where farmers intended to either extend the cocoa or plant plantains.  We walked through this and found an area of plantains that is much easier to walk through.  This got us pretty high up, as well as soaking wet with sweat and drained from the sun.  On the walk back we found a guesthouse where we bought drinks and then continued the walk back to our guest house for a swim under the setting sun. 

The lake sits in the hot sun all day and the surface water feels like a hot bath.  When you swim, your head and arms are in warm to hot water and your feet are in cooler water.  If you dive down it gets progressively cooler to the point of reaching some actual cold water.

The lake has a number villages long the shore.  They are poor, of course, but food seems plentiful, but with little variety.  Men fish using long hardwood boards, that look they were shaped from the huge timbers found in colonial houses.  The men paddle the boards and throw a round net into the water.  When they pull it up, they have fish about 8 to 12 inches long.  It does not look very hard to do.

There were some local people from Accra staying in our guesthouse, and they bought a basket of fish, had it grilled by the staff and shared it with us.  It was really good.  Sharing food here is common.  Many times I talk a little to a person and then they say, “You are invited”.  Which means I am invited to share their food.  People sometimes say this just because I am sitting near them.

Some of the volunteers wanted to try fishing, so we made arrangements for a fisherman to meet us in the morning, who for a fee, would provide us with boards and teach us to fish.  We all thought it would not be too hard, as it looks so simple.  But staying on the board is very hard.  The wind picked up in the morning and waves formed.  I could not paddle the board unless I laid on my stomach and even then, I would sometimes fall off.  The board weighs a few hundred pounds and it does not turn easily.  The locals sit with their legs straight out in front on the board.  An impossibility for us. 

I have some pictures:

The road to the lake ends here. Behind the trees is the lake.  Access to everywhere else is by trails and two dirt roads to branch off from this road in both directions.

Path to the road that leads to the village with our guesthouse.  The trees on right are plantains and the one on left is probably a mango tree.

View from of the lake from the road.  That is a fisherman paddling his board.

Ahead is the village and to the left in the trees is the roof of the guest house where we stayed.  The property sits on the lake.

The only store in our village.  The two people to left are standing on the lip of the drainage ditch that runs along the side of the road.  Hanging over the door are single servings of laundry soaps, powdered drinks, etc.

We started to walk a trail around the lake and these are cacao trees.  The green pods contain the cacao.  We ate one and inside is white pulp that tastes sweet and inside each section of pulp is a seed.  If you eat the seed, it tastes like a chocolate bar that was 100% cacao - pretty bitter yet chocolatey.

More of the trail

We came to a village and these kids insisted on saying hello.  Kid in front is naked.

Showing the kids their picture.  In the back is a boy playing with a tire. 

That's me hiking up the hill - no trail.

We came to a clearing that is being prepared for plantains.  The day was hazy, but the hills are green, green, green. 

Hot peppers growing wild among the plantains.

Watching fisherman in the early morning sun.  The man on the left has fish in his net that will go into the basket. 

Sunrise.  At left is how boards are stored.  The man behind is washing himself after fishing.  On the water are plastic bottles and containers used to hold lines leading to more nets or traps.

We try out the boards.

Working at Legal Aid (with unrelated photo)

I started a new assignment working (volunteering) for the legal aid scheme In Accra.  Similar to the U.S., Ghana has funded a legal aid scheme to provide counsel for people bellow a certain income level.  “Scheme” may sound odd, but the language here is more like the English version of English.  For example, at legal aid, when one talks to a client, it is called “taking instruction”.  When they write letters on based on what the client tells them, they say, “My client instructs me that . . . . . “.

The legal aid office is downtown where most of the buildings are government offices.  My building is a non-descript concrete building that looks like it was never completed and has a dirt drive and parking lot that turns to mud in the rain.  I am the only obruni (white man) in the office, which, in itself, makes this an interesting placement.  The entire office is a hallway with 6 offices, that include a conference room and a small lobby.  I spend most of my time in two of these offices.

Legal aid is not well promoted and most poor people have no idea it exists.  The office is (surprisingly to me) not overwhelmed with work for being in a place where most everyone cannot afford attorneys.  From what I can tell, they take some action on every case that walks in the door.  All cases, except criminal cases, must go through mediation before it can be assigned to an attorney.  Many cases involve land disputes (these are common because, as I mentioned in an earlier blog, there is no centralized and reliable registry of deeds).  They also take on rental disputes, inheritance disputes, matrimonial matters, and so on.

I most often sit in the mediation registry, which is a room about 15 x 15, the size of a big bedroom.  In this room there are 6 desks, and some people share a desk.  At times there are 8 employees working there, sharing space, working on computers, talking to clients or to co-workers.  There is a constant flow of people, clients and co-workers, moving in an out of the room. This is the room where clients come in to report for mediation or to make their first contact with the office and explain their problems that will lead to a mediation.

To me, it is very Ghanaian to have an office without any concept of personal space.  No one seems to mind that everyone can see and hear everything that goes on.  For them, it's all part of office life, and people will cut into each other's conversations with comments.  Even the clients telling their personal woes do not seem to mind the lack of privacy or the interruptions.  People are very patient and no one demands uninterrupted service or undivided attention.  

There are two mediation offices and they are mostly staffed by people doing National Service.  Anyone who completes college in Ghana must do 12 months of national service and receive an allowance.  They can be placed anywhere in the country with no choice of their placements, but money for housing is provided for those sent far from home.  They could be put in a small school up north or get lucky and end up here.  So, there is a young energetic vibe here, which I like.  It is a mix of men and women, Moslem and Christian, richer and poorer.  The office is overstaffed, and people have slow periods during the day.  No one seems to resent their placement, or act with indifference to the job.  Not everyone works as hard as everyone else, but they all do their job, and the office seems to run well with minimal supervision.  Actually, it seems like no supervision.  Clearly, everyone was trained at some point, but then I never see anyone acting like a manager, telling people what to do.  People will ask for advice from each other, but no one bosses.  My belief, is that this is a reflection of the communities they grew up in.

Interestingly, when someone has nothing to do, they have no problem putting their head on the desk, watching a downloaded TV show, or just talking.  No one indicates any disapproval.  I even see people who are working with the attorneys do this.  The attorneys will talk to assistants who are playing games on their computers and act like this is normal.  I have noticed this type of behavior in others places.  Places of business are often overstaffed and the extra people who have nothing to do feel free to nap, etc.  No one feels the need to look busy when at work.  If and when they are needed, they do the work. 

I think one reason for seeing so many people napping is that this is a country of the sleep deprived.  Most people are up by 5am.  I often wake up at 5am because of all the noise of activity outside and then lay in bed until 6:00.  By 5am the neighborhood around me is already abuzz with the sound of children, things clanking, music playing, etc.  People who commute from outlying neighborhoods, must Ieave before 6 to avoid the jams, as most work starts by 8.  In my house, the host mother starts baking at 4am, and an assistant arrives at 6am.  Also the fact that this is a very religious country makes the day longer.  Many people tell me they do some kind of morning devotion, which is sometime between 4 and 5am.  I hear a local church every morning singing and clapping starting about 4am.  Moslem prayers start around the same time or by 5am.  This is 7 days a week for both.  Morning prayers need to be early so people can then have time to take care of their morning chores before they head out to work and school.  An eight hour sleep would require people to be in bed before 9pm, but I see no evidence of early bedtimes.

Anyways, back to legal aid - the people are friendly and I made a few friends straight off.  Each day, the office handles a number of mediations, and I get invited to participate on some, particularly if they are in English.  I am told that there are 46 recognized languages in Ghana, and we get people from all backgrounds.  Most people at legal aid speak at least two if not 3 or 4 local languages, so that they are always able to find someone who can communicate with a client.  Often enough, people speak English, even if they say they do not.  So I can participate directly in the mediations. 

Each mediation is a window into Ghanaian life.  In one, a young man was living rent free in the storage room of his aunt’s church and she wanted to evict him because he does not regularly show up for morning devotion, choir practice, clean-up times and so on.  He says its true but that he must make a long commute for his national service, he then works an evening job, and he is trying to learn web design before he sleeps.  He said he often gets 2 hours sleep.  She would only say that we all work hard and did not find this an adequate excuse.  He desperately wants to stay in his room, because he has nowhere else to go.  In Ghana, tenants pay rent for 2 years in advance.  He has no ability to this.  National service only provides a small allowance.  We got them to agree he can stay so long as he shows up for morning devotion (4am) everyday and bible study 2 nights a week.  The aunt would not let him participate in any other church functions as a sort of punishment (the man really wants to be in the choir), because of his lack of total participation.

In another mediation, a woman was asking for a divorce.  It took a while for the full story to come out, but it appears that she was first married and had a family and then divorced.  She then remarried and had a second family.  All the kids are now grown and gone.  Her first husband died and she went to his home village to partake in some funeral rituals that she felt compelled to do.  As part of these funeral rituals, she was required to sleep with another man before she could return to her 2^nd husband.  (I’m not making this up!)  The 2^nd husband learned of this later after her return home and, of course, he was very unhappy.  He said he wanted a divorce and they continued to live in a one room home with this problem over their heads.  Clearly the parties do not talk to each other very much.  At the mediation the husband said he no longer wanted a divorce, he wanted to stay married and pleaded for her to stay.  He said he was angry because this all happened without anyone telling him about it beforehand.  She said she could no longer trust him because he got angry and asked for a divorce.  We arranged for a trial separation and asked them to return in a month.

Sometimes I work in a different office, that holds one attorney and 3 women who have completed law school but not yet taken the bar exam.  For them, this is a good training during the interim.  The office is half the size of the first and it has three desks.  I have seen 4 attorneys (or student attorneys) and 3 clients in there at one time.  Again, no one acts like this is an odd arrangement.  Any client interaction in the office includes interaction with everyone else.  Again, this is just another example of the sense of community that I find everywhere.  It is hard to explain and could be the subject of a longer blog.  Let it be said that on the street, on the beach, in tro-tors, in the neighborhoods and everywhere else, it is not surprising to see people feeling free to interject themselves into other people’s business or discussions.

When I work with the attorneys, the work has been less interesting.  Talking to the law students had be fun.  Most of the work is done on forms and we simply fill them out.  I suppose since they have attorneys in training doing the work, that it makes sense that they work off of forms.  But my sense tells me that this is what court is like.  Court cases do not seem too complex.  For example, a divorce involves serving the other side then getting a court date for the trial, which is held in the judge’s chambers.  There is little to no discovery that I am aware of.  I have heard of trials of other matters and it just all seems to be handled on a basic level.

I do not mean to judge the whole legal system on my one week in the legal aid office.  I may be speaking very unfairly of the court system.  I can update this report in another week or two.

I thought it would be interesting to mention that many clients who come in do not have addresses.  So many houses are not on any roads.  For example, where I live, I have to walk through a number of alleys between homes and through people's "yards".  Within the past 10 years, the government has gone around giving every house a house number so that the address will be the house neighborhood and the neighborhood.  For example, my house would be something like: House no. B538/4, Cambridgeport, Cambridge, MA.  When people come to my house in Accra for the first time, we give to directions to a local bar on the road and then they call and we go meet them and walk them the final distance to the house.

Lastly, here is a photo of me wearing some clothes I bought here.  No one looks twice if I wear this.  Not everyone dresses colorfully, but a lot of people wear african outfits (for men, the shirt and pants are usually the same material).  On Sunday, the women wear their very best.  So many are beautifully done up.  They like their dresses to be tight, and then they walk slow, to be seen and to not sweat.