Just Dance

What shop do you work at?

“God Only Knows.”

This can be more literal than it seems.

It’s hard to keep a straight face when passing shop after shop bearing eccentric names such as Jesus Above All Trading, Jesus is Saviour Repairs, God Lives Bar, Trust Him Always Food Spot… On a shopping spree around the nearest town, Shama Junction, you can get your hair done in Hebrews 13:8 hair salon, get a dress made in As God Wills boutique, and get buried with God’s Time funeral services.

Shops, road names, T-shirt slogans; God is everywhere in Ghana.

It's a given that a Ghanaian believes in God. The question is: how do they worship him? Catholics, Methodists, Pentecostals, Anglicans, Baptists, and Jehovah’s Witnesses are well represented. Even Mormons can be seen roaming the odd town in their white shirts and rucksacks. American guitar worship songs are all over the radio stations, and the streets are filled with billboards advertising the latest “awakening” or “spiritual journey” offered to a lucky few thousand worshippers.

Muslims make up around 15% of the population, co-existing peacefully alongside Christians in a way which would make the UK envious. The remainder are believers in the more traditional religions of Africa, with their spooky witchcraft and wizardry. 

More significantly, there isn't an atheist in sight. To countless Ghanaians, God is real and he actually matters; church is not just something they do. Without God their lives don’t make sense, and he gives purpose to their impossibly tough work or mundane routine - no matter how poor they are. It’s pretty humbling to see, to be honest!

Sunday's are sacred days, markets are quiet and everyone is in church. This morning the students at my school were up bright and early in their pristine Sunday whites, cheerfully going about their business with an extra spring in their step. The school holds a lively service for all denominations, involving some of the more disturbing elements of charismatic African worship. It is always entertaining and amazing fun to be at – no snoozing in the sermon here! There is enough singing and dancing to make you dizzy.

Ghanaians love dancing. It's not unusual to see spontaneous dance troupes begin in the street, for no reason other than there is a drum or loud radio playing. And this is no awkward nightclub dancing we’re talking about here; it’s more dad-dancing, if anything. Don’t get me wrong – the dancing is incredible. But there is no shame in dancing badly, thankfully for me! It’s just for some reason Africans always look unbelievably cool when they are doing it.

Beach shindig

In church the dancing is more restrained, however, but with the same tap-dancing footsteps and extravagant arm movements, moving along to everything from local tribal songs to an upbeat “Abide with me.” It's a work-out for both soul and body, and the congregation leaves church gasping for water with sweat pouring from their brows (me included.) 

A change of outfit is needed pronto, which is something of a recurring theme for me here - I’m currently going through an average of 3 changes of clothes per day!

It’s exam time at school this week. Needless to say, there has been an added urgency to morning prayers. 

Nzulez-who?

Our latest travels took us Westward to a coastal town called Beyin. The resort we stayed in is home to one of the largest and most peaceful beaches I’ve seen, for both humans and nesting turtles (we didn’t manage to see any, sadly.) Instead we got an awesome thunderstorm, the cabin flashing with light and shaking as if God himself was walking across the sky.

On Saturday morning we headed to one of Ghana’s principal tourist attractions – the stilt village of Nzulezo (try saying that with a mouthful of noodles!)

A village home to 450 people, Nzulezo sits slap bang in the middle of Lake Tadane, accessible only by canoe. Its residents are in fact farmers, and no-one knows exactly why they decided to build their village on water instead of land. Perhaps they just got confused

.

Visits are frequent from domestic tourists and foreigners alike, who come from far and wide to visit this strange place. In many ways it is like any Ghanaian village – it has electricity, food stores, churches, and friendly people (surprising given the amount of tourists they have to suffer). The only difference is no football. And they watch their small children a hell of a lot more closely!

The canoe trip itself was spectacular - 5km through tunnels of reeds and dragonflies, opening out onto an enormous lake and parking up “underneath” the village. In a way it epitomises travel in Ghana: uncomfortable, yet so much to see that you seldom care.

The main mode of transport here is the tro-tro; a small minibus carrying as much as physically possible. They travel to almost all destinations, stopping wherever you like, and picking up bystanders from the road side on any road. Absurdly cheap and constantly cramped, a 40 minute journey into town costs just 1.20 (40p), but you may have to share your seat with an intimidatingly large woman. Our 7-hour round trip to Beyin cost us 18c in total (£6), including bone-shattering jolts from the cratered road surface, and a hilarious old lady who couldn’t stop making funny faces.

Tro-tros have their own code of conduct with regards to getting on and paying. Alongside the driver in each vehicle is the “mate”, who leans out of the window and shouts “Takoradi, Takoradi” or “Accra! Accra!” as loud as he can to entice customers. Once you have successfully flagged down a tro-tro (after shouting your destination and improvising some hand signals), you then have to negotiate the tricky task of paying for your journey... Watch out for the mate’s eye contact. Does he want my money now? Everyone is looking at me. How much does it cost? Rummage through wallet. Does he have change? This exchange will usually take place via the medium of hand signals.

The standard of English among many locals is really poor, and most will speak their tribal languages to each other – so when travelling around here, its better to use as few words as possible. Wherever you travel there are people queuing up to sell you oranges, plantain, raw eggs, fish heads…you name it, it’s there.

I’m gradually getting used to the food here, despite the protests of my taste buds. Most of our meals at the school consist of rice and fish in a sauce which ranges from hot and tasty to leaving your lips stinging until bed time. It’s all delicious, despite occasionally leaving you with your mouth at the sink. Plantain and yam are a treat here. After initially grabbing burger and chips at every opportunity I can now survive on a store of biscuits in my room and eat everything I’m given. The oranges and bananas are incredible. The pineapples are so soft and sweet I don’t think I can have one in Britain again! The bread comes in a range; tea bread, sweet bread, or butter bread - all fantastically dense and great for breakfast.

I’m feel embarrassed when I run them through the list of meals I can cook… Welsh cakes are the only thing I can think of making which is genuinely British and easily attempted. I’m going to try and introduce Ghanaians to them this week.

Bon appetite

Black and white

Picture the scene: 

You are taking a tour around a 500-year old castle. You learn this is where British thugs stored African slaves in the worst conditions imaginable, before packing them into ships set for various ‘developed’ countries around the world. The local guide tells you the floor is in fact an original feature from those disgraceful days, and the surface you are stepping on is not tarred, but caked in layer upon layer of the human sweat and excrement of the thousands of slaves who lived their horrific days there.

Oh, I forgot to say – you are only white person in the building.  ‘Uncomfortable’ does not even begin to describe it.

In Africa it is unavoidable to feel strange because of skin colour. But it has never caused problems; only curiosity. In Cape Coast, however, it felt different. Perhaps it was the sight of numerous white tourists and the local children begging for money.. Or the undercurrent of resentment I felt when talking to some locals about Britain’s colonial history... Or perhaps simply the sight of the castle and the knowledge that our ancestors enslaved whole generations of this land, and now we are back with more money than most Ghanaians could ever dream of.

For whatever reason, a times I felt uneasy there. This was not a regular thing, don’t get me wrong, but it was notable because it was the first time I have felt it here. Everyone is very welcoming to visitors here (it’s in their constitution, apparently), and despite their independence in 1957 they are interested in all things European, especially football. But I’ll tell you about football here another time.

Inside the castle - cannonballs from the 1800s

The castle was built in 1653, and is one of dozens of old forts along the Ghanaian coast, all monuments to the European domination of Africa over the course of 400 years. The Dutch, Portugese, and finally the British all laid claim to the castle, and used it to protect their colonial interests at the expense of the locals. Inside there are there are many of the old features of the castle intact, along with a museum exhibiting lots of local history. Pretty interesting stuff!

This past weekend we visited Kakum national park, taking in the sights from a 40m canopy walk and seeing many different animals and awesome trees. We saw a Dutch monkey sanctuary and crocodile park – in separate places, thankfully – as preparation for a trip to Mole national park in the North over the Christmas holidays.

Canopy walk - don't look down!

The two times we have stayed in Cape Coast we have been treated to some amazing Rastafarian hospitality. They get to see a lot of tourists, but they have been so welcoming to us – making us punch, pancakes, smoothies, giving car rides and generally being pretty cool guys! They run their own school and I’ve loved getting to know them and their way of life, and their crazy-long hair.

Talking to Ghanaians is one of my favourite parts about being here, in spite of the frequent communication problems (English is often not their first language). Last week I stayed with a friend named Ben in the coastal town of Elmina, and it was lovely to eat and watch terrible TV with his wife and kids.

I’m almost half-way through my time here already. It’s getting hotter but I’m enjoying it the longer I stay.

Huw

Cape Coast at sunset

What's my age again?

Two weeks ago I turned 23. A whole year older than Darwin when he set off on HMS Beagle, two years older than Messi when he won his first Balon D’Or, and three years older than Bill Gates when he founded Microsoft.

To face facts, I am edging ever closer to 25 and I don’t like it.

BUT it is not all doom and gloom. In fact, I may only be 18 after all! Perhaps my whole life is still ahead of me after all. Let me explain.

There is a strange phenomenon here known as “football age”. Given the rarity of birth certificates in Ghana and much of Africa, age can end up being irrelevant; post-childhood birthdays may be forgotten, pupils can enter school at any age, and if you are over 30 your age tends to be a secret anyway!

So when a promising young footballer (such as Atsu, recently signed for Chelsea), moves to a European club, no-one notices if they roll back the years and rack up their market value in the process. 19 year-olds become 15, and 15 year olds suddenly become pre-pubescent children. It is an accepted fact. I have met two people who swear blindly than Michael Essien is at least 35, which explains his recent decline – along with Obefemi Martins and Kanu before him.

Birthday meal - plantain and red red (beans)

Despite the apparent confusion, age is extremely important to life here. Elders are given total respect, and the youngest in a family will usually be the one doing the most work. Form 3 students are superior to form 2 students based purely on their year of school entry.

People use “senior” to describe a good or accomplished footballer, and “small boy” for someone unfortunate to make a sloppy error. Experience is valued more than skill.

Time moves differently in Ghana anyway. Einstein could have saved himself a lot of time figuring out Relativity and travelled to Africa instead! In a school day lessons rarely start on time, and lunch can last anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour. Instead of looking up a bus timetable you flag down a “trotro” (minibus) whenever you get lucky and have a sympathetic driver.

Ato, our guide in Accra, warned me that when an African says “soon” he could mean any conceivable amount of time…  an even vaguer version of the Welsh “now, in a minute!”

The only time I have ever seen a Ghanaian rush was a teacher running to catch the start of an Arsenal match.

On Friday the school held a football match: Day students vs. Boarders. The build-up was intense. I played in central midfield – not a sensible idea with the match starting at around midday, so I was limited to sitting back and passing the ball as well as I could over the rough pitch. The match ended 3-3 with the Boarders winning via a penalty shoot-out, by which time I had long since collapsed in a heap on the sidelines. 

Boarders team

My passing, hair and lack of tackling (without wanting to confirm a racial stereotype, these guys are incredibly strong) have led to the nickname I’ve wanted all my life: Paul Scholes. Senior player.

Ab-surd-ities

“Ebenezer, don’t speak in your local dialect please!”

“Thanks for carrying my books, Gladys”

Not exactly phrases you hear often in UK schools; more like “Chantelle, no texting in class!”, “Don’t hit him with that book, Taylor”.

I’ve been here over a month now, it’s gone so fast.  In my blog posts I’ll give an update on how I’m doing and try to give an insight on life in Ghana – which is pretty hard to express in words!  

Every day involves massive bugs, dirt everywhere, sweating 24/7, cold showers (which we are lucky to have), danger food, and talking s-l-o-w-l-y.

It’s a completely different world here, and I’m just about getting used to it.

Ghana is a developing country, and is full of contrasts:

Adverts for the latest Nokia Lumina sit atop a pile of rubble on the side of the road… The kids playing football with a coconut shell in the gutter are all wearing Chelsea or Barcelona shirts… Everything takes forever to happen, yet whole days magic by so quickly.

My placement is in Golden Gates Senior High School, something equivalent to a sixth form college, where some pupils are even older than me! There are many comforting similarities to the UK, such as pupils not bringing pens, and giggling about sex education.

And there is no place contrasts are more obvious than in school:

Education means everything to the students, yet there are still behavioural problems in the classroom… Pupils are instructed to learn hard and spend hours with their noses buried in textbooks. As a result, they can recall definitions to the letter, but often do not understand what they are saying or why. They are a product of a rote learning system, which is hard to reverse.

Typical classroom - often 2 to a desk

Life in school here is similar to how I imagine it was in 1960s Britain – the only punishment is caning, and classes of over 40 sit at tiny desks and listen to textbook teaching for 90 minutes at a time. And teacher is god.

Here, the education system is flipped: state schools are better funded and higher achieving. Private schools pick up the remnants of the state system that do not make the grade or are otherwise removed from school. Private school teaching staff are often paid poorly, so students are placing their unquestioning faith in someone who is often untrained and may be juggling 2 or 3 extra jobs to get by.

I had many initial apprehensions about going to a private boarding school (and meeting the equivalent of “rah” students in the UK). But being an extra teacher in a school where I can teach and tutor many students who struggle in basic Maths and Science will suit me fine.

I have taken a couple of classes of A-level equivalent maths, bringing memories flooding back of struggling with Surds, Series, and Circles myself years ago! I'm developing a bit of a love for maths here, especially surds. I need to be careful..

There is plenty of time here to relax and read, draw, talk about football endlessly to the students, or travel into Takoradi market and nearby beaches. I couldn’t ask for much more, really.

The students are also great to be around. . This is perhaps the biggest contrast of all - they are so thankful and humble here, with an amazingly positive outlook on life, despite their disadvantages and setbacks.

Over and out.

When in Ghana...

Hello from an internet cafe in Takoradi, Western Ghana. Ten days gone and it still feels weird that I am on a different continent!

I'm used to trying to blend in in a crowd of people, but when there is only one colour of skin for miles around this is proving difficult. There is nowhere to hide as an "Obrini" (white person), the upside being that locals know you are foreign and do their best to make you welcome.

Ghana is not a place to wear expensive shoes. Trudging through a stinking market place is a war on the senses; fish in the afternoon heat being sold in buckets, mud staining your toes, vivid African dresses, sweet maize cooking, and the sounds of a thudding bass and goats bleating everywhere.

In Accra we were treated to a Ghana/Western crossover style food - roast chicken, yam, foo-foo, and my favourite roasted plantain. So tasty.

One of the last days in Accra we spent in the central market, and had the most ridiculous shopping experience of my life. All the stalls literally grab you and try to take you to see their wares. It's just what the do. Bargaining is a big part of buying something here, and a big part of the fun - they are all used to tourists and very friendly - and I was able to get some great deals too! Ghana football shirt, multicoloured trousers, african shirts and jewellery. When in Rome...

We made friends with some local kids near our house - one of our group gave them a cheap football and it was pretty amazing spending time with them. And exporting the unique British brand of football, of course.

Wherever we went in Accra people were welcoming us and wanting to try out their English. They are so thrilled we are here to help teach their children. Here they also have a neat system of names based on the day of the week - mine is Yaw (Thursday). It's nice to have a name everyone can pronounce here!

On Sunday we travelled out to our placement in Takoradi, where the real stuff begins. The students at the school seem amazing and I've already taught a few maths and biology lessons after school, they are so eager to learn it puts us to shame.

I have had dodgy bowels a couple of times but otherwise am fit and healthy. Being hygeinic is proving a losing battle here, though, when I return I may be even more disgusting than when I left - and that is some achievement.

Anyway there is so much more I could say, but my hour of internet is up. I'll post some photos on my next visit.

Mahuye,

Yaw

What am I doing next year?

Welcome to my blog! If you want to find out about what my plans are for the coming year, read on...

What? Teaching

Where? Ghana, west Africa

When? September – for 4 ½ months

With who? http://www.lattitude.org.uk/ , a charity organising volunteer placements and working with communities across the world.

Why volunteer for free in a foreign country when you can get an NQT job in the UK?

Good question. I’ve wanted to take a year out and do something different for a while, but never had the money/opportunity. And why not? I've come to the natural end of a chapter in my life, and I really want to experience how different cultures work (especially African ones).

The last thing I wanted to do was “gap yah” style volunteering. The main reason for me going is to use a skill I am trained in (teaching) in a place where they really need it.

I’m looking forward to a whole new experience of education. Children in Africa are desperate to learn - it seems obvious but it is hugely important. Education for them is the key to a better life… an opportunity to dream to be lawyers, doctors, scientists, engineers, and to help their family and community.

The only ‘facilities’ available are a blackboard and chalk (if I’m lucky), which will be challenging to say the least! On the plus side, children will actually listen to me…that will be a new experience. 

I’ll be staying with a host family in the coastal town of Effiakuma, and hopefully integrating in the community as much as possible. Apparently the locals are football crazy, which sounds awesome! Maybe I'll bump into Michael Essien at some point.

The rough plan is to do some more travelling, before coming back to the UK for a job starting next September.

I find it hard not to sound pretentious when writing a blog, but this will be the best way to inform people who care of what I am getting up to. I hope to update this throughout the next year or so with amazing posts such as teaching calamities, sunburn stories, and the inevitable "cute African children" photos...

So there you have it, not sure what else to include…Thanks for reading! I’m really excited about the next stage for me. 

You may be hearing from me soon re fundraising for equipment and other things. Donations of factor 50 much appreciated.