Two Conversations

The first, a conversation between myself and Mr Adam S Manly, the last obrunis standing in Achiase.
Me: I found a scorpion in my toilet today. I'm not happy about this situation.
Adam: Oh, really? Was it black?
Me: Yes.
Adam: Was it African?
Me: Uh, probably.
Adam: Did it speak Twi?
Me: No, not really.
Adam: Was it big?
Me: No, it wasn't that big.
Adam: Are you sure it wasn't the Rev?
Me: I think if I walked into the toilet and found the Rev pretending to be a scorpion I'd have bigger problems right now.

And the second, between myself and 11 year old Olivia Boateng, who had a baby on her back at an inter-school athletics rally.
Me: Is that your brother, Olivia?
Olivia: No.
Me: Then whose baby is it?
Olivia: I don't know. Somebody gave me a baby and so now I have a baby.

Oh, Ghana. 

School These Days

It's a well worn stereotype, the lazy white teenager. Don't care about work. Can't be bothered. So in what crazy, backwards schooling system are the Western teens the ones who care the most? Well, the Ghanaian one.

I honestly don't know how these kids stand it. A lack of resources of any kind mean that chalk & talk is the only kind of lesson they ever receive, that is, the only kind of lesson they receive when their teachers actually bother to turn up to class. Which isn't often. A few weeks ago I found myself accidentally becoming the school's ICT teacher in addition to my regular Science classes. Their actual ICT teacher stopped showing up in October last year and nothing was ever done about it, so the students just didn't get taught. And then when the teachers do actually turn up for class they spend half their time beating the crap out of the pupils. Talked in class? Caned. Answered a question wrong? Caned. Did badly in the homework? Caned.

And the reasons for all this are easy. Experience and money.

Teaching is not a prestigious job. Most teachers are very young here, around 21 years old, because teaching is just a stepping stone, a way to make a little money until they do something else. And what little money it is. At one of the volunteer's schools, a private school, some teachers earn as little as 20 cedi a month. That's less than eight pounds. And then there's the fact that these teachers are just fresh out of school themselves, and if they were caned and ignored and not taught half the syllabus in their classes, why should these students be any different?

It's a constant struggle, especially as the only obruni in a fairly large school, to bring some fun and variation into these children's lessons. I've had quizzes where they can write on the blackboard themselves, given out stickers, and one of my Science classes legitimately applauded me when I produced a packet of coloured pencils for them to use to make posters.

These kids are smart, and they deserve so much more than what they are getting.

“My favourite subjects are PE, woodwork and lunch time.”

In early April, some of my students wrote letters to Scottish pupils from my old high school, telling them about their lives, their families, and the best way to dance Azonto. This week I got the replies.

My pupils were ecstatic, they were so excited to learn about Madame Fiona’s country. But it was funny, as I read through the letters saying how in Scotland to get water you turn on a tap, and asking for facebook adds, I got a sense that this might be a prediction of how people are going to react when I go back. When I tell people about my life here they say that it makes them feel lucky. But it’s not that life here is hard, it’s just that life over there is easy.

Okay, I realise that the tone of this blog is starting to get a little moody as I dread my fast approaching return to Scotland. So here’s a surprisingly touching excerpt from one Scottish girl’s letter to finish on:

“I read Ruth Baiden’s letter and found it interesting how different her life was to mine because she is always so busy and always helping her family. She must be a very lovely girl.”

Sight

It started with a single sentence.

"There's, what, 400 kids at your school and not one of them wears glasses?"

For those of you who don't know me so well, when I return to Scotland I'm studying for my optometry degree at university, so when my dad pointed this out to me on his trip to V.A.G.I.S. I wondered how I hadn't seen it before. Uncorrected sight is the number one cause of blindness in the world, and if any of my kids had ever seen an optometrist in their lives then Mary Woode lived to be 100 years old (basically...no.). So I decided to do something about it.

I tested my entire school's eyesight in one week (headmaster was practically dancing with joy), and in the next few weeks I travel to Takoradi to test the pupils at Timoskay and Nazareth schools. I've finally found a way that I can make a real difference in this country.

I guess my optometric career began under the shade of the big tree in a dusty schoolyard in the middle of West Africa. And was almost immediately interrupted by a herd of goats.

Amyless

Yeah, she's not coming back.

Homecoming

After three weeks travelling, I finally returned home to Achiase last week. It was strange, I never realised just how much I missed this place until my tro-tro pulled into town. Leaving here is going to be hard.

In other news, last week was supposed to be the final and definite return of my partner to Ghana. I know I haven't ever spoken about it properly on this blog, but after just three weeks at our placement my partner, Amy, was called back to Canada for a family emergency. Due to a mixture of airline strikes, bad weather and visa problems, she's been trying to return to Achiase for two months now. I was told on Tuesday that she had arrived in Accra, she was actually in the country, and on Wednesday she would definitely be here.

I still don't have a partner.

I'm beginning to think she was just a mass hallucination.

Don't Panic.

Don't panic.

You. Right there. You.

Calm down.

It is impossible to panic in Ghana. We all operate on Ghana-time, which basically means that something will happen when we are ready or possibly sometime after that or maybe not at all but it doesn't really matter because it's all going to be okay either way, so it really is just impossible to panic. At home everything is such a BIG DEAL and everybody is worried about something, but here nobody worries, and when nobody worries, nobody needs to worry. Okay, I realise I'm not really making sense right now. What I mean is that if a person in the U.K. were to do something wrong, the repercussions of that wrong action would cause others to panic, hence the first person would also have to panic. But in Ghana there is no panic in others to be caused, and so there is absolutely no need to panic.

Get it? No? Oh, nevermind then.

Just don't panic.


P.S. Had by far my most dangerous encounter in Ghana the other day - with a drunk London geezer trying to pick a fight at a beach resort. Fortunately, I didn't panic.