We started today with breakfast, introductions, ground
rules, a Fante (local dialect) lesson, and some content about development work
and the time and methods that go along with it. It was interesting to see that
out of the 12 of us that made it here, only 4 of us have ever been on a
brigade. I would have expected more because of the application and interview
questions that ask about our involvement with the Global Brigades organizations
at our respective schools, but I guess there’s a reason for their selection
process that I’m just not yet familiar with. Our leader is a professor from the
University of Arizona who studies women’s reproductive health and has done a
lot of work with the GB internship program named Deanna Lewis. She has a lot of
different backgrounds, but has a PA and MBA degree, and is currently in
progress with a DrPH. When she met all of us, she mentioned that “Our best
friends all started out as strangers,” which apparently is supposed to bode
well for our interactions within the intern group.
Our first adventure today was into a small community called
Anomabo. It’s a small sort of enclosed area off the side of the main road and a
coastal community, and our trip there was an impromptu sort of stroll through
the area, so we were without an interpreter. As we walked in, we attracted all
the attention. All the eyes of the community were on us, and it was definitely
a weird feeling to be looked at, especially when the community is a little
skeptical of you at first. That’s not to mention the random goats and chicks
that were running around freely, alongside the children or not, which were also
something new to get used to. The children were wearing all different stages of
clothing – most of them were fully clothed, but for the younger ones, many were
walking around without a shirt, or even completely naked, and none of the many,
many elders who were also outside had any reaction to that. There were some
signs encouraging people to register to vote everywhere. The whole place
smelled like fire, which is assume is from cooking. There were some parts of
the area that smelled delicious, like cooked fish right along the road. All the
fish that I saw were about a foot long, thin, and silver and blue. I can’t
recognize it immediately, but then again, the only sea animal I could recognize
would probably be a dolphin. Oops.
At the end of the main road was a huge array of boats, most
of them spanning about 50+ feet (though my sense of measurement is flawed, so the
accuracy of that is questionable). When Deanna asked if any of us felt a little
uncomfortable, I was definitely part of that group; if we were just wandering
around, didn’t speak Fante, were being stared at, and were at a dead end, the
only thing that I thought we had going for us was that we were in a relatively
large group.
But eventually, we ran into an older man who spoke English.
While English is the official language of Ghana, most people rely on their
dialects to communicate. Oftentimes,
English is only used to talk amongst communities, but even then, sometimes the
dialects are similar enough that they can be understood by other speakers, so
English is not a high priority. Students learn it in school, so children are more
likely to know English than their parents. But this man took us towards the
church via the beach, which was one of the most awesome views ever. The beach
was much like resort beaches, but instead of palm trees and vacationers, there
were kids playing soccer, swimming, and running in the sand while their parents
fished, repaired boats, etc.
As we walked along the shore, the kids started coming up to
us and asking our names, then wanted to hold our hands and ask us for cash. The
funniest thing was when a good number of them went up to the only guy of Asian
descent, Ed, and kept saying “China” and “shi fu” (which is usually used in the
context of kung fu to address a master) to him.
We finally arrived to the church shortly after leaving the
shoreline, and it was immediately obvious that the church was the nicest
building in town. There was no paint falling off like other buildings, no chips
off the sides. It was as immaculate as Westminster Abbey, of course, but it was
simple and stood out among the houses of the area. As we walked back around,
the community members were much more willing to interact with us. I had a
teenager walk up to me, kiss the air, and then reach for my hand. One other
pointed to the group of us and said (according to our tour guide) that whomever
he had pointed to was the girl he wanted as his girlfriend. One of the kids was
walking towards us, grabbed my hand, and then didn’t let go until he had pulled
me back towards him. The parents sitting along the outsides of their houses
would smile and ask us, “How are you?” over and over. It was a stark difference
from before, when they looked hesitant to approach or even talk to us.
We made it back to the area of the beach where had first
seen the boats and took a seat. On the one hand, the children that were playing
started making their way towards us, and they continued their fascination with
Ed and the little bit of Chinese culture that they knew. What the rest of us
were looking at was a scene that was described to us by Deanna before we left.
These boats are made of solid wood, making them weigh several tons. In order to
pull them in from the ocean without machinery to help, they set the boat onto
pieces of wood in the sand and put two large pieces of pipe under it. About 20
or so men spread out and take their place along a piece of rope that is
attached to the boat and 8 stood in front of the boat to push it backwards up
onto the shore. They sing a song to keep in rhythm, but they wait very
patiently until a high wave comes in to pull together. At first, they only move
the boat a couple centimeters (or less) each time, but eventually they start
moving much faster. It’s a really awesome to see the way that everyone was
working together and encouraging each other when the tide was low. We left, and
when I stood up, some of the kids came and patted my butt to try to get the
sand off of it. They didn’t seem to have any regard for whether I was
comfortable with it, and tried to get the remnants off after I failed to do so.
That was definitely different from beach behavior here in the US. The beach is
gorgeous; walking in the sand is not. I could see that all the girls have very
short hair (not different from the boys’), or wrap it tightly in a bandana. The
most interesting thing to note about the community is that they are defined by
the beach – it is the source of their commerce, their leisure, and their food
in a way that is similar to many cities in the US, but to a much greater
extent.
We eventually left the community and walked along the beach.
We saw a large area that was filled with trash and populated with some pigs. I
hope the community members don’t eat those pigs because I don’t think that they
would be worth eating. Deanna told us that the community members also defecate
on the beach in the mornings because it’s the best way to get rid of the sewage
and prevent it from going into their water supply. Just like the scene where
the men were reigning in the boat, this is another manifestation of the
community trying to make the most of their resources.
When we got back to the compound, we had several short power
outages that drew our attention to the unreliability of the government-backed
systems. While this compound (and several communities around us) has access to
water, electricity, etc., the access is not always 24/7 and can be very sketchy
when there is access, unlike the United States systems that work pretty well.
The last thing to note about the day was our lesson at
night, which focused on the “danger of a single story,” a concept that comes
from this TED talk. It’s a great idea to just keep in mind over the next three
weeks.
P.S. Today’s and tomorrow’s posts do not contain any
pictures because, in order to help build trust between us and the communities
we are visiting, we are trying to be mindful of their privacy and remind
ourselves that we are not here to merely tour the area and capture a great
picture; we are here so that we can learn about sustainable development;
cultivate our research, observational, and communication skills; and represent
Global Brigades and the United States by respecting the communities. If the
first thing that we do is approach the kids (rather than the adults because of
language barriers), take their pictures, etc., wouldn’t that be suspicious in
almost any context?
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