"If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans"

 September / October 2023

As I publish this blog post, the first month in Kongo community at the Upper East region has passed. It feels like it was longer than that. I didn’t have that proper dive into the new culture as I met with the Mondo delegation in Accra and we flew to Tamale together, where I accompanied them as they attended meetings with Ghana Development Community Association, their other Ghanian partner. One of the things that struck me was their School for Life affiliated organisation, which has over the decades taught over 400 000 children how to read and write so they could enrol in formal education system! Even more, many of them end up overperforming! I also did a little bit of networking on my first day in Ghana and the press officer from GDCA has shared a short documentary “Bearing the Burden”, which portrays  farmers in Northern Ghana being affected by climate change. It would prove to be a source of very important information for me. But, for now, I’m only to observe and acclimate into my new surroundings.

    The first thing I noticed in Ghana are the smells, which aren’t unpleasant, but intense and unusual and that surprised me a lot. My notion of what a city is completely collapsed here, seeing Accra, Tamale and Bolgatanga as wide street expanses with various vendors, bikes and goats going about. The goats here are much smaller (and cuter) than the ones I normally see in Europe. I tasted jollof rice I read so much about in Chimamanda Adiche’s novels. Foodwise, people depend a lot on starch here, in terms of eating rice, beans, yams, potatoes and plantains. The mango season was over just before I got here, but I tasted papaya for the first time in my life. It was heavenly. It really tasted like something picked from the Garden of Eden.

    There’s heat, so much of it. The sun burns so bright here. It rises around 6 and sets 12 hours later, in steady rhythm. I now wear mosquito repellent instead of my everyday fragrance. My clothes immediately turn rusty brown as I perspire and the dust settles on them. I do most of my food shopping in two supermarkets in Bolgatanga, and I cowardly admit I rely on my much more experienced colleague Eugenie to do most of the cooking. I also have to credit her for thinking of packing a mosquito net we’ve installed at our front door. The fruit and veggies selection is scarce at the local market. Some days you can get papayas and bananas, but mostly you can find tomatoes, beans and some leafy greens I'm unacustomed to. You can get almost anything you want in Bolgatanga – almost anything. Except for contact lens solutions, the one thing I did not put into my suitcase. Apparently, it’s a taboo to put things into your eyes here. I could not get any in three cities, including Accra, so my sister shipped two packages from home.

    The clouds look majestic here, the roads are wide and heading straight. Even though we’re on the verge of dry season, all is lush and green still. There is an abundance of sounds during the night here. I had accustomed to the timely calls for prayer, but we have a rooster that crows around the clock here, in weird parts of the night. And he causes a cascade of roosters calling back from the neighbouring compounds. I’m not a stranger to domestic animals but here they sleep in the open, so he feels the need to crow at 10 PM, 11 PM, 2:47 AM… It took some reading and researching and the explanation is that they do it to mark territory. I did a little exercise in the first days. Instead of feeling annoyed by the sounds, I concentrated on them, took them in, It's a mindfulness technique that worked - going with the flow. But after the first weeks, I barely perceive  them anymore. I have a growing feeling that going with the flow just might be the best strategy in such a situation. I still cling to my perfectionist, Western and controlling sense of doing business. It goes without saying that doesn't take one far in rural Africa.

    A few words on the people: they are incredibly kind and welcoming, but for the first month I had a hard time understanding what they were saying. Ghanaians speak quietly, almost mutting words and swalowing vowels, It took such a strain that I'd end up my days with a strong headache. However, like with the roosters, the situation also improved with time.

    Just as I was preparing to properly dive in, bad news arrived from home. Our dog of 8 years had suddenly died. It really shook me, as well as my family. I grieved in darkness as we spent an entire week without electricity in Kongo. As I write these lines, I still feel empty and distant, without any motivation to do anything here. We belong to the people that treat their animals as family members and to me Tor (which, coincidentally means thank you in Nabit) was just that, and much more.

 

    Workwise, I finished translating the report my predecessor Toomas wrote after his deployment last year and I find it to be very helpful. In any case, all I do for now is attend meeting in which I introduce myself. Every day I must remind myself that I can’t hit the ground running, but to listen, learn and observe.

    There’s a saying I read in a book recently: “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.” Well, I had a whole week of meetings planned, but I succumbed to typhoid fever. I tried to “push through it” the first day, but it didn’t really work in my favour. My host Victor from KoCDA took me to Ayamfoya Clinic and I was shocked to have lost 11 kilograms in the first month! I wasn't starving or anything and I thought the scale was off, until I weighted myself in the house. NB forcing myself did not work well on another day: I pushed through and went to a meeting in Environmental Protection Agency, only to be drained for full two days afterward. Joint pains, stomach aches, sweating and confusion all kicked in. I can only conclude that Westerners are more succeptible to Salmonella typhi. So, attention, volunteers to be: be mindful of your training, but also of your body and its pace. 

As part of my experience, I have to admit that in the end I have more trouble settling in than I had expected. Paradoxically, the beginning and the first few weeks weren't hard at all. Maybe it's the combination of typhoid, shock from losing my dog and the relentless heat, but at one point I stopped feeling like myself and forgot what it is I came here to do. I am no stranger to slow burn, I actually like it, but recent weeks has found time stretched out into oblivion. The distances are huge here, something I'm sort of accustomend to since I lived in the rural part of the US some 7 years ago. But then I had collegaues with cars. In terms of going to some outback locations here one can only rely on a motorbike - something I fear since I once crashed it and never got back in the proverbial saddle again. If only can dos would operate those obscure locations... I definitely find some hope and solace in blogs written by previous volunteers. When I read about their troubles, I remember I'm in a developing country and far from everything that's known to me. It might as well be another planet, as it certainly is another world. I hope my next blog post will report some improvement on all fronts.