Mali and out

Mali. Where to begin. Bamako has the largest number of motor bikes I have ever seen, far more scooters than cars (by at least 10 to 1; http://www.newstatesman.com/africa/2009/06/motorcyclists-mali-bamako). The bikes are all identical in size and brand: 125 cc Chinese-made Jakarta Power Z, if I recall correctly. It’s surreal to see Muslim clerics, suited businessmen, evening-dressed women and every other type, typically two to a bike, zipping in and out of traffic, on and off the sidewalk, even riding in the wrong lane if it happens to be open. An amazing sight.

Bamako looks like Accra in some ways – a few large boulevards, four lanes on each side, and a few upscale retail areas, but it also has its share of rough and rugged neighborhoods. There are open markets throughout town and numerous small shops selling many of the same goods you’d find in Kumasi.

Stalls selling fetish items are far more common than in Ghana; we were not allowed to photograph the dried monkey heads, paws and other witchcraft paraphernalia that I would rather not describe. One of the most interesting sights we saw occurred while we were walking the streets of a retail area: with the call of the Muezzin, absolutely everyone stopped dead in their tracks, turned to face Mecca, and said their daily prayers (the country is largely Muslim). People crossing the street literally stopped in place, all commerce halted, and some even got out of their cars and knelt in the street on their prayer rugs. We learned that tradition says it is best to get to a mosque to pray, second best is to kneel on a prayer rug but it’s also acceptable simply to join up with a group and recite the verse.

We stayed the first three nights in a small and pleasant hotel on the banks of the Niger, where women came to wash their clothes and their kids at all hours of the day. The best live music we found was at a restaurant called San Toro, so we went there for two of our three nights. On the first night, the solo balafon player invited me to sit in, and I gave him a pattern to play on the low notes while I jammed a solo on the upper ones; it was a blast (and I think my rock-steady 5 against 4 impressed him). Even more fun was the hour-long kora lesson I took the next day at the studio of Toumani Diabate, arguably the best kora player on the planet. Diabate doesn’t have time to mess with beginners, so my teacher was a student of one of his students, a good fit for me.

The kora has two rows of 10 strings each that extend away from the player; you pluck the strings with your thumbs and forefingers while holding the instrument with your remaining three fingers on each hand (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Kora_(African_lute_instrument).jpg). The strings are the same color (on the kora I used) and are very close together, and I couldn’t distinguish one from the next by looking. But when I closed my eyes and felt the distance, I got much better results. I still found it very hard to play, though, but the sound it makes is otherworldly.

The next day we continued to see the sights of Bamako, one of which was the recycling “market,” a five or so acre area that the government has set aside for metal craftsmen.

As we have noted in Ghana, absolutely nothing is wasted in the areas we’ve visited: here, every single ounce of scrap metal is converted into a useful and marketable product: used tin cans become garbage can tops, bicycle chains become metal pots; the alchemy is amazing. I particularly enjoyed the polyphony from all the metal workers pounding at different tempi and pitch and producing all manner of timbres and rhythms simultaneously.  At one point, I stopped for about 10 minutes and let my video camera record the cacophony (audio file available upon request).

We left Bamako on a one-hour flight to Mopti, which is the gateway to Dogon country (Pays Dogon). The plane was a 20-seater–smallest plane I have been in–and was piloted by a New Zealand (south island) husband and wife team, she the pilot, he the co. At one point during the flight, the husband came duck walking through the cabin (there was no way he could stand up straight) offering everyone sandwiches. I asked what was in the sandwich and he said, he didn’t know but “did not recommend we eat it.”

A funny thing happened as we were waiting at the Bamako airport for our flight. When we walked to the gate area, which also held a very large dining space, we saw about 200 US Air Force personnel having a meal. I nodded to them and asked what they were doing and got a single-word answer “exercises.” When I sat down and opened the new issue of The Africa Report magazine, the very first article was a scathing rebuke of Obama’s “African policy,” which is basically a continuation of Bush’s: pretend to be a friend, then take what you want from the place (http://www.theafricareport.com/archives2/frontlines/3290719-obama-should-rethink-us-military-expansion.html). A related article detailed how we are ostensibly in Mali training Malian troops (the program is called “Operation Flintlock”) for the “ever-present” Al Qaida threat in the north (there have been a very small number of incidents in the last few years), but that what we really want is to be at the front of the line to suck up the newly discovered oil in the region. (I buy the premise). After reading the article, I went back to the same table of guys and asked if they were part of the Flintlock op, and after a few seconds of silence, one of them said, “Ya, and how did you know that?” I told them they were the cover story of the magazine, then let it go.

What’s especially interesting is that Libya is the single largest benefactor of Mali. There’s evidence of this everywhere, with many new roads, buildings and bridges bearing the label “MaLibya.” One striking example is the enormous new multi-million dollar government ministry complex Libya is building in the center of Bamako. In return, Libya has just been granted control of 250,000 acres of the richest rice-producing land in Mali and will reap the profits from sales in that area (http://www.viacampesina.org/en/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=785:libyan-land-grab-of-malis-rice-producing-land&catid=23:agrarian-reform&Itemid=36 – granted, they are providing the capital to modernize production). The Chinese have been hired to do the modernizing (Libya + China = trouble, if you ask me). Libya also has a near-monopoly on the sale of gas for cars (Oilibya) in Mali. Coincidentally, the US and Libyan embassies are directly across the street from one another in Bamako; I haven’t decided which is more ostentatious.

We landed in Mopti after an uneventful flight and when we hit the tarmac, it felt like someone had turned on a universe-sized sunlamp; the temperature was 106 F. Our guide was waiting for us and we took off in a very nice Land Cruiser with a/c blasting. Our first stop in Mopti was a visit to a woman who wears the traditional (Bambara) solid gold earrings – each year of her marriage, her husband gives her more gold that gets incorporated into the same pair of earrings.

Next we drove down to the river – Mopti, like Venice, basically sits in a lagoon – where we boarded our pinasse (a pirogue with a motor) for a totally relaxing two-hour ride at sunset.

Following a few drinks and dinner, we returned to our hotel, the Ambedjele, for the night. The hotel resembled a Dogon village (http://www.ambedjelehotel.com/eng/habitaciones.htm) and was as remote as we had hoped.

Our second day brought us to Bandiagara, which is in Dogon country. The first stop was at a Dogon village where we hiked up a tall hill to visit a centuries-old circumcision site. Every few years, all boys of a certain age (around 10-12) climb the hill to be circumcised on the same rock by the village priest. Following the ceremony, the boys, along with the village men, remain for a few days to sing and play on calabashes that are stored in the entrance to a sacred cave.

Wall paintings on and around the cave depict events in Dogon history.  After several days, the newly circumcised boys are taken to the foot of the hill and must race back up - the winner is rewarded by having the pick of the village girls for his future wife (the marriage will take place a few years later). The runner-up receives two cows.




We next traveled through the Sahel on a road only our Dogon guide could see, climbing treacherous cliffs over rocks and into ravines on a journey we would not recommend anyone embark upon lightly. The heat when we took ‘bush breaks’ (women to the right of the jeep and men to the left) was so intense it took your breathe away. We were warned not to go too far into the bush for fear of scorpions, vipers, cobras, and other malcontents, a real concern in this part of the world.

That afternoon was among the most unusual imaginable. There is no way to describe Dogon country even in pictures. The place looks like it must have looked 1,000 years ago – few villages have electricity (except for one where we discovered a solar panel supplying power to a radio), and the granaries and living quarters are all made of mud and must be refurbished every year.

(Interestingly, the French, who colonized Mali, never took the trouble to venture as far as Dogon Country, so none of the locals speak French nor is there any French influence to speak of.)

The highlight of the whole day was the masked dance that was performed for us in the village of Tellem, a truly amazing 30-minute experience.

Along with our two guides, Sue and I first meet with the Tellem chief to honor him with the required ritual kola nuts (some cash was also exchanged out of our sight). We then followed this 80-year-old man with his walking stick up through a serpentine path between mud huts to the highest point of the village. Puffing and gasping, we reached the top in intense heat, yet the chief seemed unaffected by the climb. As we did the climb, we picked up village children at every turn, and by the time we reached the sacred tree and dance circle, nearly the entire village had joined us. We collapsed in the shade of a wall to await the drum call that announced the start of the dance we were to witness. It was all quite surreal and we began to question whether we had been transported to some alternate universe.

Fortunately, I was able to set my video camera on a tripod then use the Nikon in my other hand, so I got a lot of great material. I’m extremely pleased that the Museum for African Art, soon to open on Fifth Avenue in NYC, has asked to use some of our video and stills in their upcoming (Fall, 2011) Dogon exhibit.

Our next stop was in Djenne, where the ancient mosque is the largest all-mud structure in the world.

 The mosque is in active use, and its refurbishing each year is a huge event. We bought a few Fulani mud clothes in the local market, but were totally unprepared for what we were to find a few miles from town: the Ndomo cloth factory makes some of the most beautiful textiles I’ve ever seen, and if we hadn’t both been delirious from food poisoning at the time (more on that below), we might not have grossly overestimated the cost of same and bought far more than we did (maybe next trip!).

Djenne is also one of the best spots for encountering many of Mali’s various ethnic groups, including the Fulani, Bambara, Songhai, and even the Tuareg, who travel a great distance (from the north) to trade at this important center. It’s a fascinating mix that is clearly represented by the clothes, cloths, food and more.

We were supposed to spend our final night in Segou, the ancient capital of Mali, but during the night in Djenne I started to get some pretty severe shakes. Here we were in the middle of the desert and I was dying for more blankets – there were none in the room, so Sue had to cover me with all the bath towels she could find (and she wasn’t feeling too well, either). Our biggest fear was that I was having a recurrence of malaria – we were many hours from the nearest clinic and there wasn’t going to be much we could do about that.

Before we went to sleep, Sue put a towel under the door to block out the light – there was about a six inch gap. In the morning as we were getting ready to leave, she removed the towel, and two seconds later, a very large scorpion walked right in under the door and headed for our suitcases. I didn’t have the heart to squash the thing so managed to fling it out the door with one of the towels – wish I had gotten a picture!

Because we didn’t break up the trip by stopping in Segou as planned, we had a seven-hour ride back to Bamako. But the drive was fine (no doubt the three doses of cipro helped) and mostly uneventful. Along the way, our driver stopped to buy some grilled meat. The meat was delivered in a small plastic bag and I still can’t believe that when offered, Sue reached her hand into the bag, grabbed a handful, and ate it down… it was impressive (and she didn’t get sick!).

We upgraded to a four-star hotel in the middle of town for our last night in Mali and had a super relaxing and quiet night. The flight back to Accra made only one stop (in Cote D’Ivoire) as opposed to the two on the flight out. After an overnight in Accra, we flew back to Kumasi where we spent the last few days meeting with friends, settling our accounts and packing our stuff. (I won’t tell the story about trying to cash Sue’s last paycheck at our bank, waiting in line for 60 minutes, then being told that “the money has finished!”)

I had mentioned to the matron at the children’s home before I left that I would only have two more visits after our return, but on the final day when I said this was it, she seemed totally surprised. She apparently hadn’t told any of the kids I was even leaving and the goodbyes were mighty sad. Some of the younger kids, with whom I had grown most connected, really did seem to be almost in shock – overall, it was the saddest departure I have experienced.

Back in March, I had ordered 12 kpanlogo (“palogo”) drums from the drum workshop at KNUST for my department at Northeastern and after watching them evolve from tree trunks to beautiful instruments over several months, I was excited to learn that they were ready for pickup just two days before our departure. We loaded the 12 drums (plus one that had been made as a gift to me and Sue) into the back of the small pickup truck that was taking us to Accra for our flight home, and set out on our final Ghanaian journey. During the five-hour ride, we were hit with an enormous storm, but the drums were intact when we arrived at the airport, where we had an incredible time watching the customs brokers, and the guys who put us on to the customs brokers, and the friend of those guys (ad infinitum) wheel, deal and haggle our stuff onto a Delta cargo plane – fast forward, the 13 drums (along with the 13 unique and custom-made Kente bags that we had made for them) are all happily sitting in my office in Boston.

July, 2010
Our trip is over but for Africa, it’s just beginning: this year is the 50th anniversary of independence of no fewer than 17 different countries. Suffice it to say, but there is quite a ways to go. If the West can find a way to consider additional help – and not just more NGOs doing more temporary projects, and the microfinance/microeconomy can reach many millions of additional people, than perhaps there is a chance that the people of the continent can enjoy the healthy and prosperous life they deserve. We can only wish them the best of luck.

--DHM

Rise and Shine!

The day starts early here. The first class sequence at the University is 6 am to 8 am (ouch!) and we routinely get phone calls between 6:30 and 7. The matron told me that the children at the home are asleep by 6:30 and get up at 5 with the sun and the roosters. That makes sense, given that they have no electricity, but I guess the rural/village practice is also translated into city life for many people.

I’m all recovered from my bout of malaria – very nasty indeed, but the medicine (Lonart) is nothing short of miraculous. I had a couple of minor relapses even several days after finishing the meds, but now things are totally fine. Spending time at the University hospital, which is open to the public, really gave us a reality check; we live a pretty isolated existence on campus (though we do get into town a lot). Among the dozens of people waiting for care was a woman with a baby tied to her back, an active 4 or 5 year old sitting beside her and her very sick young child sprawled face down on the hard wooden bench. The bright pink bow in the young girl’s hair was in sharp contrast to the cracked drab gray paint of the bench. I hope their wait wasn’t extremely long (we were seen right away at the Senior Staff window).

Health care in West Africa is pretty bad, and far worse outside of Ghana. The life expectancy in Liberia, for example, is 41 years, and the doctors in Sierra Leone have been on strike recently in protest of their salaries, which are fixed by the government at $43 per month. A recent article in Africawatch estimated that the natural resources extracted from West Africa by colonial powers over the past 150 years easily amounted to several trillion dollars (not counting the human cost), and I just wonder what a fraction of that might do to improve the lives of Africans were it to be returned. The arrogance of world leaders like Sarkohzy, who said in a recent trip to Senegal, to paraphrase, that “Ya, colonialism was bad and all, but we also brought you schools and roads (!)” seems to imply that additional reparations are out of the question.

Friendly neighbors
I was taking a shower the other day and when I reached for my towel, my hand froze just before I was about to grab the largest spider I have ever seen. Sue found the biggest Tupperware bowl we own and I managed to get the guy into it - the spider crawled over to the side of the bowl where my hand was holding it, and it covered the entire palm of my hand from the tips of my fingers to my wrist. Man it was big: at least four inches across, with huge spindly legs that stuck out about 2 inches from the wall. I looked him up on the net and turns out it was a wolf spider, a biter, but not a serious poisoner. I let it go outside our front door, unfortunately before I was able to take any pictures (but here’s a spitting image):

I saw his junior brother a few days later and we have been told that with the rainy season, more and more critters will invite themselves into our dry abode. (Sounds like a party!)

En Guard!
Though we thought Sue would be wrapping up her responsibilities for the Department after her final exam last week, it turns out she was assigned to invigilization duty for the two weeks that follow. Invigilators are proctors for exams – to stand watch, to guard against injustices perpetrated by the students. No computers, books, PDAs or any other distractions are allowed the invigilator – they must be alert and focused on the task for the entire two (and sometimes, three) hours. As with many basic services that KNUST faculty perform, invigilators receive an allowance for their efforts. In fact, this is going to be Sue’s salvation – she was assigned to do eight such sessions, but when she mentioned in a meeting that eight seemed like a lot, a number of junior faculty offered to take a few of the sessions off her hands in order to receive the compensation. Sue happily unloaded four of the services to her colleagues.

Local News
We saw an “eye witness” investigative journalism piece on the local news this week about a number of Ghanaian cocoa inspectors who were themselves part of a scam to illegally export cocoa (Ghana’s number one export) to Cote D’Ivoire. Happily, a few days later, I saw in the paper that the bunch had been rounded up and placed under arrest. I was thinking about corruption as we know it in Ghana compared with some other countries and there’s just no similarity. Though some inspectors might be on the take and no doubt there are many other corrupt activities about which we know nothing, this is peanuts compared to the millions, if not billions, that past and even present leaders of countries such as Senegal, Zimbabwe, and elsewhere have stolen. (Did you hear the one about the son of the president of Equatorial Guinea building a 24 million dollar mansion for himself in LA?)

In Nigeria, for example, illegal “resale” of electricity (people siphoning off power from the grid and reselling it) costs the country over 1 billion US, and in Senegal, where the annual income is $550, the president ordered the building of a 24 million dollar statue celebrating African unity in the middle of town. Since the statue was “his idea,” he plans to keep 40% of the revenues generated by ticket sales. Figure in the huge loss of revenue from the horrible deals many African countries have made with foreign companies for mining, logging, oil, gold, diamonds and the like, (Firestone controls 20% of Liberia’s entire land territory through a 100-year lease it obtained early in the 20th century. Harvey S. Firestone called it the "the greatest concession of its kind ever made) and the situation looks pretty hopeless.

We heard a joke at a dinner the other night: The government of Nigeria sent out a request for proposals to build a new hospital. Some time later, a meeting was held at the Ministry with the final three candidates. The first candidate, an American, said “I can do the job for 1 million dollars.” The second, a German, said, “I can do it for half that.” When the third candidate, a Nigerian, submitted his bid, it was for 1.5 million. The minister asked, “How is it you wish to charge us 1.5 million when the German company can do it for so much less?” The Nigerian replied “Well, it’s like this: 500 thousand for me, five hundred thousand for you, and we hire the German.”

I now believe that microfinance/microloans are one of the only means left to raise the standard of living for most people – they basically have to help themselves. (So please give generously and give often! ;-) (Kiva, among others, does a great job:www.kiva.org.)

Do the Math
Very happy to see a full page announcement in the national paper requesting entries for a “census jingle” contest. Seems that someone believes people will more likely participate in the always contentious census if there is some nice music associated with it. When the country redenominated their currency a few years back, the government produced a 2-minute video with music for the occasion entitled "The Value is the Same.” You can find it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVbFJxWPfy8&feature=related (so what would you rhyme “the tuber we buy for twelve thousand CEDIs” with?? ;-)) Turns out there’s also a “sing along” to ease the pain of the new (required) national ID card: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CcpEPrYdJVg&feature=related . We’ve seen thousands of people waiting hours at locations all around town to register for these (seems a little sinister to me, in fact).

Marketing
There’s a wide range of shopping options in Kumasi from two “super markets” that carry a fair amount of goods to the single-proprietor “sellers” who sit by the edge of the road and offer everything from used TVs to a few cans of mackerel or a dozen peeled oranges. Added to this are the twelve or so large outdoor markets (Central Market at 10,000 stalls being the largest), which sell absolutely everything imaginable. The super markets don’t carry fresh produce so we buy ours from several different sellers; Emmanuel, my driver, always seems to know who has the best supply of what.

Some items in the stores cost about the same as those in the US; a can of coke is 70 cents, and a loaf of bread costs around $1. Some are ridiculously cheap: a dozen bananas costs about 20 cents. A box of authentic Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes, on the other hand, costs $14, so I opt for Sami’s Sweet Flakes ($2), which is packaged in Dubai. Many times we’ve bought things, a box of cookies, for example, that are wrapped in an outer layer of shrink wrap, then packed in a sealed box, then individually wrapped in plastic inside the box, and still when we get it home, they are full of ants. But the produce is always very fresh and (perhaps?) organic – there are certainly no pesticides being added to the mango and orange trees that are the source for the sellers on campus.

All Hail!
On Sunday, May 2nd we went to an amazing festival at the Asantehene’s palace called Akwasidae. This celebration occurs every six weeks and is intended to allow all the sub-chiefs in the Asante Confederacy to pay homage to the King. This time, the event coincided with the Asantehene’s 60th birthday, which was a few days later. We watched for six hours as chief after chief paraded onto a large fairgrounds, complete with their entourages. Some of the chiefs were accompanied by large groups – as many as 40 or 50 assistants, often carrying ceremonial swords, guns and relics – while others had only two or three. But all had at least one umbrella carrier and of course a drummer or two.

There were groups of dancers performing at multiple spots simultaneously, and watching the many thousands of spectators, each decked in their finest Kente, was a treat in and of itself. The Asantehene came last, of course, and his procession included several hundred people. (I learned in class that the King sends spies onto the grounds before he arrives to see if any of the lower chiefs are wearing the same cloth as he. If so, they are told to change their outfits.)

At one point as I was videotaping, I got caught up in the procession and was almost knocked to my feet. Fortunately, the camera kept rolling!

We also went to a second event in the weeklong celebration of His Majesty’s birthday. This one was a concert of Asante dances.

 It was a low key affair, except that I had the honor of meeting a Nigerian chief, His Royal Majesty Iwge Dr. Elder E. U. Nneli, Traditional Ruler of Umeje Community (since 1977, or so says his business card).

We struck up a conversation and he asked me if I would like to help set up a school on his land. He said that he had the “resources” for the projects and also mentioned that he had three wives (not sure of the significance of that). I thanked him for his offer and told him that I already had a job (and a wife!). Sue and I decided to pass on the final event of the celebration, which was the Asantehne’s 18-hole tournament. Apparently he is a big fan of the links.

Mali
We’ve just booked an 8-day trip to Mali, which will serve as a little vacation for us before we head home later this month. It’s a little sad to think that we will be leaving GH just ten days after we return, and leaving Kumasi even sooner than that. But we expect the Mali trip, which takes us well out into Dogon country and the Sahel (the region between the Sahara desert in the north and more tropical areas to the south) will be spectacular. (See http://www.dogoncountry.com/about-pays-dogon/ for details). Our tour includes a few days in Bamako, where I’ll take a kora lesson with Toumani Diabate or one of his disciples, plus a Dogon mask dance when we’re in that region. I’ve been practicing my French, but it won’t do us much good once we get outside of town.

The Narrative of cloth

When Leah, Kris and I went to Adanwomanse, the weaving village, I bought a large “old Kente” cloth from one of the shops (old Kente uses a very soft form of rayon that is no longer available). The cloth was made in 1924 for the return of Prempeh I, the then Asantehene, from the Seychelles Islands where he had been exiled by the British in 1900. The cloth is a large (six yards long) man’s cloth that consists of 24 4-inch vertical strips hand sown together (newer cloth uses 5-inch wide strips). The 6-yard vertical “warp” is made from many dozens of individual 3-inch patterns. It is a thing of great beauty.

I brought the cloth to my color symbolism teacher and sat fascinated for the next two hours as he told me the story behind many of the small 3 x 4-inch motifs. One section uses a pattern that symbolizes an Akan proverb that “the head of the snake contains knowledge.” The wearer of the cloth will assume the affect, fate or whatever characteristics are woven into the cloth, so in this case, it’s implied that the wearer has the knowledge of the snake head. But there’s more – the fact that blue is used in the snake motif means that the knowledge is not of this earth – it is heavenly. And because there is only one blue area in the section, the weaver is saying that this type of knowledge is rare. Nearby is a complementary area that uses the same pattern but this time with red in place of the blue. This means that the knowledge is hard won, as red implies courage and perseverance (and in many contexts, blood). All of the above is indicated by only two of the hundreds of sections of the entire cloth – there are many such stories found elsewhere.

Given this great discovery, I looked into the meaning of other patterns and have made some decisions about the cloth that Gyase and I are weaving. Though I don’t think I’ve done enough planning for the colors, I have a much clearer idea about what sort of meanings I want to imbed in it.

No Show
I went to a lecture this morning that was part of a series commemorating the centenary of Kwame Nkrumah. The Asantehene was expected but didn’t show up. As I waited outside on the courtyard for the event to begin, a traditional drum ensemble performed a series of Ghanaian dances. Every time they took a break, the University choir, which was rehearsing upstairs, took the opportunity to work on sections of Handel’s Israel in Egypt, which they will perform next month. The juxtaposition of the two worlds was surreal.

I was very disappointed not to see the Asantehene, especially since the day before, my Performing Arts Traditions class watched and discussed a video of a historic durbar in which gold relics stolen from the Ashante in the late 19th century were returned to their proper place at the Asantehene’s Palace. Among the things we learned is the fact that there are different practices for political versus traditional events. For example, the Asantehene will not speak at a traditional event - his words will be conveyed by his linguist. And he will also not walk (his feet must not touch the ground) at a traditional event but will do so at a political one. I’m working on a chart of the Ashante chieftaincy structure, which dates back prior to the 14th century and which was retained when Ghana gained independence in 1957. I’ll post some notes when I get a better understanding of it.

There were two lectures – one was by a Ghanaian Nkrumah expert and the other was by Gamal Nasser, grandson of the Egyptian leader, who is also an expert in the field. (Nkrumah was a friend of Nassar’s, married an Egyptian woman and named his son “Gamal.”) Both agreed that if Ghana had followed more of the economic models set forth by Nkrumah, it would look today more like Malaysia and Singapore, which were both in a similar state of development as Ghana when they achieved independence. They also both acknowledged the hugely contradictory qualities of Nkrumah’s character. Fascinating stuff.

Church and slate
Sue’s very good buddy Angela is head of the Optometry and Visual Services department, and graduates of their 6-year program were inducted as D. of O. at a ceremony this past weekend. Like all events, this one started and ended with a prayer. A student-directed play we saw recently also began and ended with same. In fact, every official school function we have gone to includes some sort of religious gesture, as do all the major political events; there is clearly no division between church and state that I can see.

Ghanaians also seem to have no problem reconciling Christianity with “traditional” beliefs. One of our security guards saw a snake in our backyard and when I asked him whether it was poisonous or not, he said, “If the man who sees the snake is not cursed, the snake will pass him by, but if the man is cursed, the snake will bite him and he could die.” On a recent visit to a nature reserve (see below), we were told by our guide that the sap from a liana (vine) has medicinal powers. But he warned us that if you cut the liana while your shadow is over it, you will actually get sick. He also told us that the way to tell if a mushroom is poisonous or not is to try and feed it to a turtle. If the turtle refuses to eat it, then you know it is not safe (seems reasonable!)

I also read a very cute letter to the editor in the Graphic recently entitled “What’s with all this Spiritualism?” The writer began by pointing out that people having difficulties, such as students who are not passing their courses or mothers having trouble with their pregnancies, tend to blame the spirits for their ills, and that instead of taking that course, they should accept responsibility (study harder, get pre natal care) for their actions. She then went on to say, “Look, I believe in spirits, both good witches and bad, as much as the next person. But you can’t blame them for everything!” wonderful…

Cultural Events
We went to a small festival of French-speaking countries last weekend that was the final event in the weeklong Francophone festival. All of the West African nations had modest booths but very proudly displayed their flag and a picture of their president or prime minister and also posted facts and figures about the country. Each also provided samples of the local food and dress and eagerly answered questions about their homelands. The D. R Congo booth, on the other hand, had a couple of guys dressed in jeans pushing flyers on passers-by promoting a new computer accessories store in Kumasi. They were also selling USB devices at a discount. (What a country!)

The play mentioned above was produced by several of the National Service personnel assigned to the Cultural Center in conjunction with the English Department. The National Service is a program for recent college graduates intended to “provide trained manpower to supplement and improve existing levels of manpower in mainly the public sector” and to “instill in the youth the sense and spirit of nation building and integration through positive programmes.” Speaking of national service, I saw an announcement in the paper that said the Ghanaian Army had just reopened recruitment after a hiatus of several years and that in only a few weeks, they had received over 40,000 applications for just under 1,000 spots.

We also went to the Master’s recital of the man (Reggie) who gave us our dance lesson and who occasionally subs for the prof in my drumming class. It was an epic performance. For nearly two hours, dozens of dancers worked on and off the stage in a seamless series of numbers, each accompanied by a drumming and vocal ensemble. The show mixed traditional and modern dance practices, which is the subject of Reggie’s thesis, and the costumes and choreography were inspired. Before the program began, there was some Fante music playing over the loudspeakers and I found out that Reggie had recorded this with a group.
Here's a link to an excerpt: http://www.dennismiller.neu.edu/reggie_audio.mp3

At the home
I found some great Ghanaian themed puzzles at a store during our visit to Accra and brought them out to the children’s home this week. One was a flag of Ghana, another was a map of the country, and the third was a huge 100,000 CEDI (the local currency) bill. The kids and I were working on the puzzles when a huge rainstorm came. We went inside – the compound only has four rooms (girls’ dorm, boys’ dorm, matron’s and senior’s brother room), and I sat with the boys on the floor where we told stories and jokes. One of the boys asked me if I could sleep over sometime so we could “talk all night”; I was really touched. When the rain stopped, some of the kids were pushing each other around in a wheelbarrow, and when I was about to leave, one of the boys jokingly told me to get in the wheelbarrow and he’d give me a ride. When I did, the entire group pushed me up the long, extremely rocky and bumpy 300-yard path to my waiting cab. It was a great moment.

Nature’s Way
The rains have brought an outbreak of spectacular color in the flowers and the trees. My favorite is a tree of unknown name that has bright orange flowers superimposed on rich green leaves – the contrast is fantastic. There are mangos hanging by the dozens from trees every few hundred yards, and the markets are full of paw paws, pineapples, and mushrooms, all of which are ripe and ready to eat.

Our farm is coming along nicely – the cow dung obviously did its job, and we can see the sprouts for everything we’ve planted, but I’m not sure which will be ready before we leave.

Acting on a tip from a man who runs a high end guest house in Kumasi and a meat shop associated with it, we ventured to an unfamiliar part of town to check out the wares. We managed to get burgers, chops, chicken and sausage – all of which were fresh and overall outstanding – and have given us a greatly expanded choice of meals. Unfortunately, the rib eye steak was “finished,” but maybe it will be back on a return visit.

Modern Culture
It appears that the entire loop of Fox in Africa programming has restarted. Every one of the three or four shows we watch is running episodes we have already seen. Fortunately, I found a great Nigerian station that broadcasts historic cultural events once a week. Our PVR has a great function where I simply stick in a USB device and I can record anything off the air. I’m building a library of some interesting stuff.

Speaking of TV, I have to quote (mostly in full) the following letter to the editor of the national newspaper, entitled “TV presenters must dress well”:

I have watched in awe the gradual degeneration of the code of dressing of our local TV news presenters. The earlier this creeping negative phenomenon is condemned the better. Ironically, the culprit is one of my favorite female presenters… She is now offering more than viewers have asked – cleavage – due to her unbuttoned shirt or low cut garments worn during the news presentation. The sad news is that this cleavage is growing bigger per every news presentation. (editor’s note: implants??)


This appalling practice must be vehemently discouraged by the managers of these TV stations as viewers attention and focus tend to be misdirected, leading to a loss in the significance of whatever news is being presented. This, I believe, will also halt the degeneration of virtues in TV news presentation.

(Note to self: watch more news this week.)

Favorite phrases of the week:
The MC at a concert addressing the crowd: “thank you for your cooperacy.”


As we were leaving for dinner one night, our guard asked us to “off the light.”

Sign on a store on the Accra Road: Panacea Pharmacy

One of our security guards was wearing a t-shirt that said “Iraq Fire Department.”

We visited an amazing nature reserve some 30 minutes from campus that we were told had been virtually untouched for 100s of years. There was a huge array of trees with medicinal properties and also an area with a tremendous number of butterflies. The butterflies apparently like a mineral that is found in the soil, so they gather and remain in place making them easy to photograph. We also saw more of the beautiful beetles that we have spotted near our bungalow.

Unfortunately, despite my best precautions (high concentration DEET spray and daily malarone tablets), I was bitten by a mosquito and got an intense case of malaria. Symptoms started in the middle of the night with acute stomach pains then devolved into a massive headache. I didn’t go to the hospital until later the next day, and the blood tests showed the little bugger in a “1+” stage, which is actually a very mild form. Sue got a kick out of looking into the scope to see the bad cells – I wasn’t much interested in seeing them. Our excellent doc saw us right away and prescribed the usual meds, and after 48 hours I’m back to about 70%. I would say that I felt about as bad as I have ever felt for a 12 hour period and that this disease is to be avoided at all costs. If you happen to be heading to a malaria-infested area, you might look into larium, which the local doc says could be more effective, plus you only take it once per week.

Happy Birthday, Ghana!

March 6th was Ghana’s 53rd anniversary and Sue and I spent a wonderful evening at a concert of hymns and patriotic songs performed by the KNUST College Choir at the Great Hall on campus. The group was excellent – as good as any college choir I have heard - and the included selections from Handel’s Israel in Egypt, which they will perform in Accra at the National Theatre if they raise adequate funds, were exceptional. A very loud synthesized organ playing through a distorted bass amp was the only flaw during the evening – the low notes were especially fuzzy, but the mood was jubilant and the spirit was clearly in the house. We were very proud to be introduced, along with others, as “dignitaries,” and a faculty member who met her husband while a chorister in the mid-70s gave a rousing and hilarious appeal for support for the Accra trip.

Leah (our daughter) and Kris (her husband) spent this past week with us. We picked them in Accra and drove down to Cape Coast where we visited the Castle (Obama and Michelle posters remain intact everywhere), then went to Elmina to see the amazing harbour and ship building facilities.

The Castle moved me more than I had expected – it was the epicenter of British (if the not the world’s) slave trade.

We had a pleasant ride back to Kumasi in our rented Land Rover-class vehicle and stopped along the way to walk the canopy rope bridge in Kakum National Park – seven interconnected bridges 120 feet above the ground.

L and K gave a talk to students in the Publishing program while here; it was a giant hit. Leah was introduced first, then when the MC introduced Kris and said he was Leah’s husband, the crowd of nearly 200 gave a roar of approval. The class was very attentive and gave repeated collective vocal responses to the topics at hand. The biggest reaction came when Leah explained that many of the higher-quality color children’s books are printed in China because “The US doesn’t have the resources…” That appeared to be an unimaginable concept. The class concluded with one of the students being asked to thank the speakers on behalf of the entire group – he improvised some very thoughtful and heartfelt remarks. Afterwards, the Head of the Department added her own warm wishes and gave both Leah and Kris beautiful hand-painted framed paintings as tokens of thanks.

Perhaps the highlight of the week was our two-hour dance lecture/workshop in which the top KNUST dance instructor (Reggie, also an excellent drummer) and two drummers showed us moves from three of the main Ghanaian regional dances. After he explained a bit about the history and practice of each, we all joined in and tried our best to learn the steps. We got a real workout and thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

Our busy week also included leisurely visits to the Kumasi National Cultural center and the Asantehene’s palace (Leah was inducted as an honorary Queen Mother) as well as a very hectic and intense visit to the Central Market, the largest market in West Africa (over 10,000 stalls) on what may have been the hottest day we have had yet. L and K flew home from Accra at the end of the week and arrived safely courtesy Delta Airlines – we miss them already.

Around Town
Sue and I went to a concert this weekend that was the opening event of a weeklong Francophone festival. (http://www.20mars.francophonie.org/10155-Semaine-francophone-a-Kumasi-Ghana)

The show included a French Yves Montand-style accordion singer/dancer named Florent Vantringer who brought out a couple of Ghanaian drummers midway through his set (it didn’t work). He and his group (bass and drums) played well, but it was about the most Western European/Caucasian-centric music I’ve ever heard (the obrunis were even clapping on 1 and 3.. ouch!), and I have no clue what the many Ghanaians in the audience (many of whom probably came to hear the next act) must have thought of the band. There were a few hesitant attempts at dancing to the music (my drum teacher says music without dance is pointless), but for the most part, Vantringer received only luke warm applause. A very popular hiphop (sort of) singer named Bradez was the headliner - he started his set by dancing around the stage in a bright orange jumpsuit, affecting a very Western-style hiphop/rap manner while singing in Twi (with some beautiful alliteration).

For his next song, he sat at an electronic keyboard and it occurred to me that it is very hard to look badass while seated at a piano. In fact, Bradez’ group consisted of a classical (Spanish) guitar, a drummer performing on several Ghanaian drums (palogo and djembe), and an electric bass player; not a very hard-edged combination. There was a group of about 20 young girls, aged maybe 12 – 15, seated next to us who shouted out every word of every song. Midway through a performance of Bradez’ newest hit – a very pale (I vi IV V I) 60s-style bubble gum number, we left. (The transformation from aggressive hipster to teeny-bop popper was striking.) Sort of wish we had skipped the whole thing and gone to a concert of Ghanaian music that was at a venue across town (there aren’t a lot of cultural events in Kumasi).

But we did meet a nice fellow who owns a small guest house in Kumasi and doubles as a meat supplier to some local high-end restaurants. He told us he could get us bacon, sausage, ground meat, and pork chops, none of which we have had since December. We also had the pleasure of meeting a very well known Ghanaian street artist who goes by the name of  “Almighty God”
 (http://web.mac.com/fabriziosommaruga/NERART/Almighty_God_CV_.html). The work is very colorful and full of meaning - we hope to catch him at his studio before long.

On Language
Sign on a bus: “rust in God”
Menu offering at local restaurant: “Chicken baked in bread cramps, with salad or chips.” (another line offered “Jambokaya”)
When passing a broken down vehicle on the highway, our driver reported that “The car is sick.”
When I mentioned how much I liked my driver’s new car, he smiled and said, “The car is fresh.”

I learned a new expression recently: Woa didi. Woa didi means “Have you eaten today?” It is used as a follow-up to the expression meaning “How are you.” So after someone asks you how you are and you tell them you are well, you are asked “Have you eaten today?,” meaning, are you doing so well that you have actually had an opportunity to eat something? Also learned that the response I had been hearing to my own question about one’s well being is “Nyame Adom” – “By God’s Grace (… I’m still alive and kicking).”

At the Home
Except for the week traveling with Leah and Kris, I’ve been going to the children’s home three afternoons per week. On a recent visit I asked one of the younger girls what country was next to Ghana and she said “China.” (China in Africa - so scary. Read China Safari!) So the next visit I brought a bunch of maps of Africa showing the country borders without any names along with some maps that displayed the countries and their names and asked the kids to write the correct names in the blanks on all the countries. We then listed the names on the blackboard by letter: “How many start with A, how many with B, etc.” and then counted them all when we were finished (53). I also brought a very large colored map of Africa on nice, thick glossy paper and hung that on one of the doors of the compound. (I have a puzzle of the African continent that I’ll bring some time in the future.) Also bought them all purses and bags during our recent trip to the weaving village, which Leah and Kris had the pleasure of distributing.

Our farm worker informed us that our soil was not great and that the sprouts weren’t progressing on schedule. He advised us to use some chicken manure as fertilizer and when we agreed, he set off on his motorcycle and returned with a 50-pound bag of the stuff. When he sprinkled it on the ground, I immediately associated the smell with tobacco – maybe from some time spent in North Carolina at summer camp or perhaps something in Louisiana (is it grown there?) in the past – but the association was strong (as was the smell!). We’re hopeful that the watermelon, tomatoes and cukes we initially planted along with the new seeds that L and K brought will be ready to harvest before we leave (the trip is half over this weekend).

We bought a couple of deck loungers made from nice fabric in Kente colors.  They look and feel great on our large back porch, which provides us with a great view of the dense tropical vegetation in our back yard.

We can also watch our neighbor’s goats wandering around amongst the banana trees. Ants have discovered a way into our Tupperware so now we wrap everything inside plastic freezer bags before we put it in the Tupperware.


The water supply has been more reliable recently, though we still have no water at least one or two days a week (we never know which). The electricity tends to go out several times per day, with a long blackout overnight earlier this week, but in general also seems more reliable. I read an article that said the national power companies are less than 10% away from absolute maximum capacity (no one talks about “conservation”) and that unless a planned expansion of the power plant is finished quickly, there will be routine national blackouts. Many of the district and regional representatives complain that Accra, the capital, gets more than its share… Not sure how that will all play out. Also learned that the best guess as to Ghana’s percentage of the revenue from the oil production due to start later this year is 38%. Unclear how to assess that number – I’ll ask a buddy in the chemical energy department at school – but I wonder if that is the best they can expect.

Lost another lecture due to a power outage in class last week; only two more weeks of class after this one. Very much enjoying my discussions with a prof. on the color symbolism in Kente as well as the actual weaving, which is ridiculously hard and requires hours of prep even before the first threads are crossed.

 If I’m lucky, I’ll finish with a single 5-inch strip of cloth, perhaps a few yards long, ready to take away, though my technician has already done a lot more work on it than I have. I now appreciate even more the amazing skill of the professionals we saw on our recent trip to one of the weaving villages.

In Local News

Lots of regional conflicts in the news, including Niger, Cote D’Ivoire, Sierra Leone and of course the chronic mess in Nigeria. Also a deadly conflict in northern Ghana related to rival claimants to the local chieftaincy. Coincidentally, when L, K and I were at the palace, there was a durbar on the conflict ordered by the Asantehene taking place at that very moment. We peeked in on the very large crowd but didn’t get a good look at the King.

After reading an article on the topic in Africa Watch, a magazine that I read thoroughly each month, I did some further research into the CIA’s involvement in the demise of Kwame Nkrumah; hadn’t known any of those details. Just one more event in the sad history of western interference and meddling in Africa (also watched a great film on Patrice Lumumba – another tragic story).

There’s building excitement about this summer’s World Cup and Ghana’s participation in same. We watched all of the Africa’s Cup matches and have also been watching games between the major European teams and it seems pretty clear that Ghana will have its hands full.

I’m still trying to watch the Super Bowl on TV; found a huge HD file that I downloaded via BitTorrent (thanks Kris!) and have been trying to convert the unusual format (MKV) to something I can edit and ultimately get onto a DVD – I’ll get it done, no matter how long it takes.

(Disclaimer: The following comments are not intended as gross generalizations or stereotypes. They are based on numerous personal observations and encounters.)

It’s becoming increasingly clear that a vast majority of the people have very little in the way of material resources; a large number of homes immediately outside of town and even in the city are extremely poor and we understand the situation is even worse in the north of the country. Yet for many people, there appears to be a safety net provided through the extended family network. It doesn’t look like anyone is starving – if you can’t afford to feed all of your children, you are likely to send a couple to a relative, and if you have a friend or clansmen who has even a little more than you do, then you can be sure that he or she will give you absolutely everything that can be spared.

We have not detected any sarcasm or cynicism among the people we’ve met. Everyone seems honest and sincere – there’s even a sense of innocence. It’s quite remarkable that people can be so upbeat in such an environment – a smile is an instant away from every face – and of course there is always hope (irrefutable) that tomorrow will be better. The Western world could learn a lot.

Trials and Tribulations

We’ve had some tremendous rain storms this week, even though the rainy season is ostensibly four to six weeks off. The huge downpours are accompanied by enormous peals of the loudest, lowest and longest thunder I’ve ever heard. The rain clears away the thick coating of fine red dust that sits on every surface around our bungalow (the wind removes a lot of dust inside but also contributes new dust) and smothers the garbage and grass fires that line every major thoroughfare. Unfortunately, it also turns our long dirt driveway into mud, which makes for slow and slippery going on the Vespa.

It’s been a rough few weeks in the utilities domain. The power has gone off multiple times every day – last Saturday it was out for over 12 hours. We lose both the fan in the living room and the A/C in the bedroom when that happens. Not a major problem unless it happens at night – it’s impossible to sleep in the heat, especially if there is also no water for a shower or two. The combo of no power and no water hits us regularly. I lost an entire class period this week when the power went off right before my morning class. I improvised for about an hour using the white board (in near total darkness with the temperature rising) to a packed room of students but couldn’t show any of the animations that were the real point of the class meeting. We’ve also lost our Internet connection several times– as I write, a major cable break in the Accra Region has left us without a connection for 36 hours and counting. (We just got service back after four days.)

We have regular visits in the house from lizards, roaches, centipedes, ants, moths, beetles, flies, and spiders, none of which I mind (though I’m getting rather tired of the lizards dropping on my head when I open our front door). But I saw a rather bad-ass looking scorpion (or close relation) crawl across the area where I keep my wallet and keys yesterday and that gave me a bit of a start.

Lover’s Day
On Lover’s Day (Feb. 14), we went to a dinner/dance at one of the local hotels that we enjoyed immensely. The ads had said the event would begin at 4, but when we called to confirm that we did not need advance tickets, we were told that it actually started at 5. We arrived at 5 to a very quiet, covered outdoor patio with a few couples distributed sparsely around the area. At about 5:30, it was announced that the show would start at 6.

About 6:30, the MC (a local radio personality) started working the crowd with communal games such as Know Your Partner. Couples were chosen at random to play by guessing their partner’s bra and/or (no kidding) male organ size. Everyone (including Sue) was invited to give testimonials about how they met, what love meant to them, and other suitable topics, and the entire feeling was one of a large family reunion. Several preachers spoke – one at great length (he was also a radio person) – about the divine power of love and related issues, and every 15 minutes we were assured that “the food (was) just about ready.”

A five-piece band played during the breaks from the games and preaching, but the music wasn’t very good. The musicians were in great need of feedback as to the virtues of playing in the same key, adjusting their volume relative to the other band members (especially the singer), performing in a unified (read: single) musical style, and more. But the crowd seemed to enjoy every minute of it.

Around 9 pm, we were lead, table by table, to the buffet line, and our plates were piled high with kelewele (fried plantains), fried chicken, fried rice, fried fish, and fried potatoes (shades of New Orleans!). A new band (or maybe it was the same guys, but this time they sounded much more polished) started up and the radio preacher came up to our table and invited Sue to have the first dance with him. We were sitting with two young couples, one of whom had been married only weeks before, and with a third couple who had two young kids. Their approx. 3-year old daughter had huge beautiful eyes that she kept, unblinking and fixed, on Sue the whole night. At 10:30 we, along with many of the then hundreds of people, left the show, even though the headliners, The Daughters of Purity, were just getting into high gear. We were offered a ride home by several people we had not even met, but we’d arranged for a taxi to bring us back.

Common Customs
We love the Ghanaian uses of the English language. My driver comes everyday to “pick me” for our ride out to the orphanage and told me a story about someone he drove around “yesternight.” The kids all ask me to “snap” their pictures when I bring my camera and any acquaintances we meet younger than we are call us “Mommy” and “Daddy.” The national newspaper reported that Vodafone, the largest Internet provider in the country, had “… delivered to its customers a disconnection (sic) service.” It said that according to a spokesman, “The service (sic!!) will last until the problem can be fixed.” Sue told me that a student in her department had officially withdrawn from the University; the cause listed on her form was “medical reasons due to the effect of witches.”

No one says “goodbye” when departing. Instead, we say “Ye bashia” – “we will meet again,” to which the common answer is (translated) “If G-d wills it.” When meeting someone, either for the first time or even a good friend, you never get right down to business. A slew of greetings – how are you, how is your wife, how is the family – is expected. Everyone is always “networking,” and when there is no more paper in the copier nor baked chicken at our favorite chop shop, we are told that the paper (or chicken) “is finished.”

We had read that there is no Twi word for privacy, and that has definitely been our experience. We are awoken most every morning by something; one day it is loud drumming starting at 6 am, another day it is a chorus of voices praying in unison, and today at daybreak, a large group of boys came shuffling/jogging down the street in front of our house carrying a banner and singing in call and response fashion. Nature herself also alerts us to the cycles of the day by way of a rooster, howling dogs, calling birds, or (and sometimes in combination with the others) grunts and groans of unknown origin (bull frogs, maybe??). The crack-of-dawn-timed changing of our security guard is also an occasion for much laughter and cajoling.

In the News
The big story in Ghana continues to be the rift between the NDC, the current party in power, and the NPP, which ran the country for 14 years prior to 2008. Jerry Rawlings, twice the country’s leader by way of coups and twice freely elected, is with the NDC and in some opinions is the power behind the throne (not to be confused with the real throne, which is the seat of power of the Asantahene, the most-high [King] of all Ashante Chiefs). Rawlings’ home burned down this week, and an NPP member and radio personality suggested that Rawlings himself was responsible because he wanted a new house. The NPP man was arrested for making the comment, which lead to a boycott of the government by some NPP parliament members. The NPP man was then ordered released by NDC authorities; the “scandal” and the limits of democracy itself are at the center of every TV and radio show and all the papers. What strikes me is that this discussion is even going on – it is amazing to see a “young” country experience democratic principles and allow opinions and counter opinions to be expressed in public. I think there is some embarrassment about the initial arrest itself, but the fallout has been a remarkable display of freedom of speech, which I find tremendously encouraging.

The Nigerian parliament has finally decided that their president’s (Yar A’dou) mysterious absence from the country for three months is no longer acceptable, and they voted to transfer power to the Veep, a move that received the approval of the Nigerian Supreme Court. The VP has the great name of “Goodluck Johnny” and wears an ultra-cool Monk-style black hat (circa 1950.)

At least from the few speeches of his I have heard, he seems to acknowledge that the country is a mess. We’ll see where that leads (China has just signed deals to extract many additional millions of barrels of oil – read “China Safari,” a recent book on the subject, for a real scare).

On Campus
The head of one of the largest administrative departments in the university surprised us recently when answering his office phone, a blazing red, spiked high heel shoe. We had been trying for about three weeks to get the remainder of Sue’s salary for January – a large chunk was mistakenly deducted for Ghanaian retirement. On another day I went to the post office to send a small package to a film festival. There were four women sitting behind bank-teller style windows. One window had a line of about 25 students, while there was absolutely no one at the other three; the three unoccupied women sat quite still and seemed content to have nothing do. I also stopped at a small office to buy some credits for my mobile phone. The office consisted of a single standard-sized desk at which two men sat. I asked for the coupons that contain the proper numbers I needed and handed my money to the guy on the left. He gave me a receipt and told me to give it to the guy on the right, who then handed me the coupons. (Kafka again.) I think there are some lessons in efficiency that would be useful here, but then again, I guess it’s better that two guys are getting a salary instead of just one.

Sue relayed a story of how after it was discovered during the daily tea break (10 – 11 am) that she had no faculty mailbox, several of her colleagues immediately went to work with paper, pen, scissors and glue to fashion her one. She said this was the strongest indication yet that she was truly part of the Biology “family.” Her Department chair gave an eloquent and impassioned speech to the Bio students at a recent “town hall”-style meeting in which he exhorted them to stay focused, do their best, and make the “Biology family” proud. Sue was very impressed.

Sue’s class (Chordate Development and Evolution) did a Darwin-style collection and classification project this week, and I went to the lab session to photograph the lizards the students had caught.

Sue gave a prize to the group that caught the biggest critter (32 cm!) and the kids were all very proud of their efforts. (The lizards were released unharmed, though they were knocked out for a few hours while being measured and snapped.)

My students have stepped up their efforts and preparation following some strong words from their respective HoDs (Heads of Department). It’s been a challenge to provide them with all the demo software, articles and files I need them to use, but I’ve now got a system of distribution that involves having the “class captain” make copies of and distribute a DVD containing the materials. I’ve given up on the idea of a multi-user computer lab where students would be scheduled to work. Between the power outages, rampant viruses on the computers I was allotted for the purpose, and limited access to the intended facility, I found that the plan was not going to work; they all use their own laptops at this point.

My classes (Drumming and Performing Arts Traditions of Africa) continue to go well, but videos and other A/V materials are not often used. My profs must also assume the power will go out while they’re showing a film. After a couple weeks of lectures, we’ve started to work on the drums in drumming class, and I had no idea that you can produce so many tones on a single drum. All the traditions we are studying consist of a fixed number of rhythmic patterns that are played in combination or alternation by the members of the drum ensemble. We use adowa drums, which are tensioned using pegs that extrude from the sides.


All the drums used by the class (of 25) were made by students in the drumming program on campus.

At the home
Things at the children’s home are going well, though there is not much change in the routine. The kids prepared some group dances for me to video tape and also did a round of individualized “crazy” dances that were lots of fun (I made and brought them a DVD, which they loved). A few of the boys borrowed some drums from the local church (woman do not play drums) for accompaniment and all the performances were actually quite good. (I’ll post some video if they don’t mind.)

Last Saturday we took the kids on a field trip to Bonwire, the weaving capital of Ghana. One of the older girls brought a small purse that she proudly wore over her shoulder the entire trip. It occurred to me that this was probably her only earthly possession and that many of the kids had nothing at all to call their own; sort of heart-breaking, when you think about it. I’m considering buying them all something substantial on our return trip.
-DHM

Grace and Hope

(Media update: I posted some videos of the New Year’s Eve event on Vimeo. Worth a look:

http://www.vimeo.com/8637884
http://www.vimeo.com/8648069
http://www.vimeo.com/9066958 )

I’ve seen the light and my path is clear. The Grace and Hope orphanage is the reason I’ve come to Ghana. The home is a small, private facility on the outskirts of Kumasi situated well off the road, across a field, down a hill, through some tall grass and around a 2 – 3 acre courtyard. It’s owned by a KNUST professor whose father started it some years back. It does not get nor does it seek public funding – the prof. is the main supporter. There are 14 kids aged 5 – 15, a matron, and a “senior older brother” (16 or 17) who helps the kids with their homework and does most of the heavy lifting.

There’s no electrical service at the site and a gas-run generator supplies power when needed. The kids walk to school, just a few hundred yards down a path from the site, and seem very happy and secure.

I do different activities with the children each visit (2 to 6 pm, 3 x per week). Last week I took about 100 still photographs of them, turned them into a slideshow with some Ghanaian pop music (Ofori Amponsah – highly recommended!) in the background, and burned it onto a DVD. I then brought the disc and a DVD player to the orphanage but there was no gas for the generator – so we waited a bit until some was acquired. When I showed them the 10-minute video, they were enormously delighted. Each new face appearing on the screen prompted a massive roar of recognition with shouting of the child’s name. Next week I’ll bring the video camera and make a movie of them singing, which they often do spontaneously. No doubt that DVD will also delight.

Some of the kids are behind in their reading skills, so I try to practice reading on every visit. We also do other group activities, such as one where I brought a book of Kente weaving images and asked them all to make drawings of their favorite patterns. I’m hoping we can arrange a field trip to Bonwire, the national Kente weaving capital, which is just a 60-minute ride from the home.

Like all Ghanaians we have met, the children are huge soccer fans, so the arrival of a new “football” that I got in Kumasi received thunderous applause. One of the older boys cut an opening in an old deflated rubber soccer ball they had and placed the new one inside it. He told me this would insure that the new ball “stayed fresh” for a while to come. Sometimes while the older kids are playing, 5-year old Fortuna (Mawu) sits on my lap and just rubs my skin. I wonder if she thinks that if she rubs hard enough, the paint will come off. ;-)

The trip to the home takes about 30 minutes, and I have befriended a cab driver who is my daily escort. “Mr. Emmanuel” is helping me with my Twi and has a habit of letting other drivers know what he thinks of their skills. The ride is an old Kia (late 80s/early 90s?) and so far, it has been up to the task.

So much more I could report, but the pix speak for themselves:
http://www5.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1016147028/a=2091206028_2091206028/
(If you need a password to log in, maybe create a bogus account.)

Media
I enjoy reading the Daily Graphic, a national newspaper out of Accra. Each issue combines major national issues with very local events and reports. There’s an extensive Letters to the Editor section – one writer writes regularly to provide details on correct English grammar, and the editorial on the same page is very socially conscience, for example, alerting citizens to the benefits of buying locally and exhorting the recently elected (new party) government to keep its promises in funding school uniforms and supplies. One recent article detailed the destruction of several thousand bogus Samsung flat screen TVs, complete with a picture of a completely blank brown box with an arrow pointing to it that said “Fake” and another picture of a fully logoed Samsung box, extensively decorated with an arrow that said “Real.” Wonder where the plastic “Sony” logo on our DVD player (which just fell off) was actually made (China, no doubt).

While following Ghana’s activities in the recent Africa Cup of Nations tournament on local television, I noted a number of public service announcements in the form of colorful cartoons. In addition to the expected advice about the benefits of hand-washing and using mosquito nets, another explained why a family should refrain from selling their children. Speaking of TV, along with the DVD player, we purchased a number of DVDs, each of which has between 10 and 12 complete movies on it; they sell for $1.50 and are made, like nearly everything else that is cheap and of poor quality, in China. We were watching a film called 2012 when I noticed a strange round object at the bottom of the TV screen. A minute later, we watched as someone from the audience got up and left their seats – the DVD we were watching was obviously made by someone sitting in a movie theatre with a video camera.

Some of the movies are in English but have new “English” subtitles intended for Ghanaian audiences. The “translations” can be hilarious or at the least, curious: “Oh, God” was translated as “Oh, Days,” “Yes, Sir” became “Yes, Executive,” and “You won’t get to heaven that way” appeared in the captions as “You won’t arrive in Western Paradise with your actions.” (I thought that was a Muslim thing??)

In the classroom
Sue started teaching last week – her class consists of 67 undergraduate Bio majors and she gives one two-hour lecture per week and supervises a 3-hour lab on another day. So far, so good. She gets along well with her TA, and has given the students a project that involves collecting and classifying the lizards found everywhere on campus. She’s also making new buddies from among the Science faculty and continues to Skype with her lab at UMass a few times each week.

I gave my first lecture in my Digital Media Production class on Monday and ran into some serious cultural differences. After I showed an entirely abstract 5-minute animation, the students asked me how they should “understand” the film; one of the profs clarified by saying that the students needed to know the “significance” of the colors that were used, and that they wanted some background on the artist. They also asked what the artist “expected” them to think about the film. I tried to make the point that the work was completely open to personal interpretation, but that was a tough one to sell. I’ll be looking for more common ground as the semester continues. I teach a second section to students from the Communication Design department on Fridays.

I’m taking a class on drumming that is split into two 2-hour sections. On Tuesday we have drum theory, which is mostly cultural context, history and classification. The Thursday section is on practice – meets for the first time today (last week Ghana was in a soccer match at class time so we did not meet). On Wednesday, I’m in a Performing Arts Traditions of Africa class that I believe will focus on West Africa in general (hope so) and Ghana in particular. I am also meeting privately with a textile technician who is introducing me to Kente traditions of strip weaving and will have regular sessions with a prof. in that same area to cover the research side of the story.

At Home
The bungalow is shaping up nicely and we make a bi-weekly trip to the largish supermarket in Adom plus near-daily stops at fruit and vegetable stands both on campus and on the way to the orphanage. Sue and a guard discovered that we have a major pineapple “farm” in our backyard, with seven rows of about 10 plants each (there are multiple pineapples per plant). We’ll have a ton of fruit on our hands in a month or so when the rains come; from what I hear, they will all ripen at nearly the same time. We’ve also discovered garden eggs (eggplant), red chilies, and a very large mango tree (;-)). We harvested our first bunch of bananas this week, about 40 of them, and tasted the cocoa nuts that fell from our tree (the taste is not easy to describe, but it was refreshing).

We learned that the Food Science Department runs a farm close to the house and we bought a very fresh chicken that Sue cooked up. If we get the nerve, we’ll buy a live one and do the deed ourselves; live chickens are available from roadside stands on the main road to Adom and of course everywhere in the Central Market.

Happily, the only visitors we’ve had in the bungalow are lizards, centipedes and of course the ubiquitous ants. (One of our neighbor’s chickens did come to the back door to have a look around, but he was not invited in.) Mosquitoes come with the rains next month, and we’ll double check that the mosquito nets we sleep under are intact.

If you haven’t done so already, have a look at the pictures of the kids from the home. Can’t explain how much pleasure they bring.

--DHM