Well unfortunately I became completely absorbed in my travels and lost interest in reflecting on them.. would rather be out in the street playing ukulele than sitting in an internet cafe waiting for my blog to upload.. which was tenuous at the best of times.
In very brief summary, this trip changed my life. I would recommend anyone considering a trip to Ghana to throw caution to the wind and go.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Further Considerations...
Most of us now have some form of discomfort. The bed bugs have bitten, I've had the runs for a week, others have various unwellnesses but nothing serious. I'm not enjoying slathering myself with Deet and only do it at night before bed then wash it off... but it only takes one little mosquito. Being covered in bed bug bites is disconcerting, but I had the same in Bali last year so it hasn't freaked me out too much. Popping antibiotics every day has not produced side effects... though I do seem more prone to sunburn. My ankles have been intermittently swollen since I arrived which creates a weird flopping sensation in them when I dance... fat ankles... it's just wrong.
The food is heavily laden with palm oil and light on vegies. Meat, white bread and various types of starches that you scoop up with your fingers is standard fare. Milk is canned and condensed. The meat runs around the streets in the form of cute wee goats and chickens. Looks like catch and kill is the order of the day.
As I type it sounds like the technician is watching a splatter movie.. Ethoipian airlines blurred images of breasts on the in-flight movies.. but extreme violence seemed to be acceptable.
Julia Gillard is Prime Minister!!!! Wonder how long it's going to take for them to crucify her. Bye Bye Kevin 07. I had such high hopes for you. I hope you can rest easy in your used polly graveyard.
The food is heavily laden with palm oil and light on vegies. Meat, white bread and various types of starches that you scoop up with your fingers is standard fare. Milk is canned and condensed. The meat runs around the streets in the form of cute wee goats and chickens. Looks like catch and kill is the order of the day.
As I type it sounds like the technician is watching a splatter movie.. Ethoipian airlines blurred images of breasts on the in-flight movies.. but extreme violence seemed to be acceptable.
Julia Gillard is Prime Minister!!!! Wonder how long it's going to take for them to crucify her. Bye Bye Kevin 07. I had such high hopes for you. I hope you can rest easy in your used polly graveyard.
Continued
After classes the young people in the region performed for us. When Kofi, our master drummer, learned to drum it wasn't an acceptable thing to do in the community. His father, an English teacher, stood his ground and supported what his son wanted. Now the traditional music is being taught to the young people. For the past two years this group has practiced three times a week. They are compelling to watch. Their dances tell stories of unrequited love, courtship and returning from war victorious. It's a different experience watching these cultural performances in the places they were created. They are an expression of their lives that is real and relevant and not something created for a tourist trade (we haven't seen a tourist for days and in two weeks I've seen less than a handful of white people).
My travels are traveling backwards...
On the way to Kofi's parents we were confronted by floods and crossed roads swollen with water. Water and cars and people everywhere. At one stage the van began to flood, the edge of the road was two metres away and the engine cut out. I slid the door open and was prepared to jump. A bunch of local men pushed the van from danger. Ha ha ha ha ha hmmmm... extreme sports are not my cup of tea. Popped a rescue remedy and we were on our way.
Accra the night before.... after Australia tied with Ghana we headed off for dinner, then to a night club. A young acrobatic troupe performed for us, followed by a series of solo dancers, including a beautiful dancer in a wheel chair and a transvestite. They all improvise. The acrobats were fearless, flipping, flopping and leaping with a concrete floor as their mat. Full of joy, talent and skill.. I could wax lyrical endlessly about the beauty with which these people move. I almost enjoyed the boys in the row up the back grooving more than the ones doing the impressive tricks.
How could you ever think of enslaving this energy?
The lack of infrastructure in the part of Accra we stayed in is appalling. There is no garbage collection, the roads are washing away and houses have fences with glass on the top of them to stop being burgled.
My travels are traveling backwards...
On the way to Kofi's parents we were confronted by floods and crossed roads swollen with water. Water and cars and people everywhere. At one stage the van began to flood, the edge of the road was two metres away and the engine cut out. I slid the door open and was prepared to jump. A bunch of local men pushed the van from danger. Ha ha ha ha ha hmmmm... extreme sports are not my cup of tea. Popped a rescue remedy and we were on our way.
Accra the night before.... after Australia tied with Ghana we headed off for dinner, then to a night club. A young acrobatic troupe performed for us, followed by a series of solo dancers, including a beautiful dancer in a wheel chair and a transvestite. They all improvise. The acrobats were fearless, flipping, flopping and leaping with a concrete floor as their mat. Full of joy, talent and skill.. I could wax lyrical endlessly about the beauty with which these people move. I almost enjoyed the boys in the row up the back grooving more than the ones doing the impressive tricks.
How could you ever think of enslaving this energy?
The lack of infrastructure in the part of Accra we stayed in is appalling. There is no garbage collection, the roads are washing away and houses have fences with glass on the top of them to stop being burgled.
Akosombo - Day 12
Internet access erratic and slow... like the way time is moving here.
We are constantly traveling and every experience is profoundly different from the last.
Today we are in a town on the Volta River staying in what feels like pure luxury after sleeping in people's homes under mosquito nets and sharing beds.. lawns that are mowed, a dog to pat, a cat to stroke, palm trees, air conditioning and our own bathroom.
Spent the morning with a fetish priestess. Received my Ghanain name.. which eludes me right now but it means 'Blessed'. This evening we go back for a cleansing and a reading and tomorrow we visit the Shrine.
The last two days were spent at The Trokosi Project. This is where the poorest of poor women, and girls that have been rescued from their lives as temple slaves, come to learn skills, receive counseling and medical help and basically rebuild their lives. It is a beautiful, isolated, ordered place that is genuinely inspiring. The women learn to cook, sew, make beads, braid hair and a whole host of skills that they might be able to support themselves with when they re-enter their communities. It's funded by OZ Aid.. not sure how you spell that ... and a Canadian group and Church groups come over to build things and help out. The night we arrived we had dinner and were then taken over to the meeting room.. where around 150 women wearing blue checked uniforms were dancing with abandon in a huge circle, singing songs of praise at the top of their lungs with a completely infectious joy. The sound was gorgeous, ear splitting and totally overwhelming. We danced with them.
Moments like these I wish I was a believer.
I then taught them a simple round, 'Belle Mama'. They learn quickly but are clearly not accustomed to rounds and it took a lot of running around to make it work. The tour group helped with conducting which was another new challenge.. I then tried to teach the backing to Sweet Honey in Rock's 'Breaths'. Some of the women tried to sing but most looked at me fairly blankly. My assumption was that they didn't like it. I gave up pretty quickly and the tour group sang the song for them (I'd taught it to the group for the graduation ceremony).
We then danced the traditional dance we'd learned the week before. Seems pretty bizarre, a bunch of white women performing Traditional African Dance for Africans, but they get a good laugh out of it.. and I'm sure all the sweat is good for me.
The following day we were given a tour of the school by the Principal, Patience. An articulate, compassionate woman who clearly creates an amazing sense of order in the place. As we moved from classroom to classroom, seeing the different skills they were learning we heard snippets of the songs I'd taught the night before. The women were shy but very welcoming. They wore red, checked uniforms.
By the afternoon I was under a verandah with Miriam and 20 women weaving, doing photo shoots, teaching songs, playing the ukulele and hearing them sing the song I'd tried to teach the night before. Seems they were simply listening and trying to pick it up... the songs we sing are so different to theirs. For women who have suffered so much, they have great joy and a generosity of spirit that is uplifting. They have a smattering of English, but with music as a common ground the communication was abundant.
I will post the web address when I get back, but it's there to be Googled.
The days before that we were in Kofi's hometown. He Is our fabulous master drummer who is accompanying us on our tour. He is totally organised, keeps us to our schedule and makes sure we are safe at ever turn. His family live in the Volta Region .. the heart of what we know as Voodoo. His family welcomed us warmly and showed us the rooms we were to sleep in, then fed us a meal of fermented corn and fish stew. Getting used to eating with my fingers.
After dinner we were led through this quiet town with concrete walls and sand underfoot to a dimly lit courtyard at the edge of a mangrove forest for a traditional dance and drumming performance. The music is complex poly-rhythm and I found myself drifting off to some hazy part of my mind. We were invited to dance with them, each taking solos in turn. I entered the circle feeling fully absorbed by the rhythms, suddenly found myself not alone as one of the Ghanains appeared in the circle, embraced me from behind, hands fully across my body and danced with me... I went with it .. sort of felt OK and safe surrounded by 30 people, finally extracted myself and returned to my place in the circle. No one batted an eyelid.
Ghanains have a different take on personal space.
The following day we had dance and drumming lessons by the people we had watched the night before.
I'm thoroughly enjoying the dance classes, but African dance, the way we're are learning it, is fully choreographed. I'm hoping at some point we can just have a dance to some traditional music.
Posting now to avoid losing this....
We are constantly traveling and every experience is profoundly different from the last.
Today we are in a town on the Volta River staying in what feels like pure luxury after sleeping in people's homes under mosquito nets and sharing beds.. lawns that are mowed, a dog to pat, a cat to stroke, palm trees, air conditioning and our own bathroom.
Spent the morning with a fetish priestess. Received my Ghanain name.. which eludes me right now but it means 'Blessed'. This evening we go back for a cleansing and a reading and tomorrow we visit the Shrine.
The last two days were spent at The Trokosi Project. This is where the poorest of poor women, and girls that have been rescued from their lives as temple slaves, come to learn skills, receive counseling and medical help and basically rebuild their lives. It is a beautiful, isolated, ordered place that is genuinely inspiring. The women learn to cook, sew, make beads, braid hair and a whole host of skills that they might be able to support themselves with when they re-enter their communities. It's funded by OZ Aid.. not sure how you spell that ... and a Canadian group and Church groups come over to build things and help out. The night we arrived we had dinner and were then taken over to the meeting room.. where around 150 women wearing blue checked uniforms were dancing with abandon in a huge circle, singing songs of praise at the top of their lungs with a completely infectious joy. The sound was gorgeous, ear splitting and totally overwhelming. We danced with them.
Moments like these I wish I was a believer.
I then taught them a simple round, 'Belle Mama'. They learn quickly but are clearly not accustomed to rounds and it took a lot of running around to make it work. The tour group helped with conducting which was another new challenge.. I then tried to teach the backing to Sweet Honey in Rock's 'Breaths'. Some of the women tried to sing but most looked at me fairly blankly. My assumption was that they didn't like it. I gave up pretty quickly and the tour group sang the song for them (I'd taught it to the group for the graduation ceremony).
We then danced the traditional dance we'd learned the week before. Seems pretty bizarre, a bunch of white women performing Traditional African Dance for Africans, but they get a good laugh out of it.. and I'm sure all the sweat is good for me.
The following day we were given a tour of the school by the Principal, Patience. An articulate, compassionate woman who clearly creates an amazing sense of order in the place. As we moved from classroom to classroom, seeing the different skills they were learning we heard snippets of the songs I'd taught the night before. The women were shy but very welcoming. They wore red, checked uniforms.
By the afternoon I was under a verandah with Miriam and 20 women weaving, doing photo shoots, teaching songs, playing the ukulele and hearing them sing the song I'd tried to teach the night before. Seems they were simply listening and trying to pick it up... the songs we sing are so different to theirs. For women who have suffered so much, they have great joy and a generosity of spirit that is uplifting. They have a smattering of English, but with music as a common ground the communication was abundant.
I will post the web address when I get back, but it's there to be Googled.
The days before that we were in Kofi's hometown. He Is our fabulous master drummer who is accompanying us on our tour. He is totally organised, keeps us to our schedule and makes sure we are safe at ever turn. His family live in the Volta Region .. the heart of what we know as Voodoo. His family welcomed us warmly and showed us the rooms we were to sleep in, then fed us a meal of fermented corn and fish stew. Getting used to eating with my fingers.
After dinner we were led through this quiet town with concrete walls and sand underfoot to a dimly lit courtyard at the edge of a mangrove forest for a traditional dance and drumming performance. The music is complex poly-rhythm and I found myself drifting off to some hazy part of my mind. We were invited to dance with them, each taking solos in turn. I entered the circle feeling fully absorbed by the rhythms, suddenly found myself not alone as one of the Ghanains appeared in the circle, embraced me from behind, hands fully across my body and danced with me... I went with it .. sort of felt OK and safe surrounded by 30 people, finally extracted myself and returned to my place in the circle. No one batted an eyelid.
Ghanains have a different take on personal space.
The following day we had dance and drumming lessons by the people we had watched the night before.
I'm thoroughly enjoying the dance classes, but African dance, the way we're are learning it, is fully choreographed. I'm hoping at some point we can just have a dance to some traditional music.
Posting now to avoid losing this....
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Accra on Saturday Continued
Each morning we have had a dance class, then a drumming class. Appiah had planned to build a facility on his land where we would stay and have classes, but this hasn't been ready in time so we have stayed at his parents house and rehearsed in the living room.
We basically took over the house, moved all the furniture outside to dance and have been made very welcome. I'm a bit confused about how many people usually live there as so many come and go. I would sit out on the verandah and watch the world float past carrying huge loads on their beautiful heads, wearing the most spectacular clothes and be chatting to a stranger(or trying to chat, I don't speak Ghanain and many people have a smattering of English) who described himself as Alex who has a brother who is very talented at football who needs a sponsor, who lives three streets away.
There were always people wandering thought the house that I didn't know.
So.. back to the classes. These a being run by a company called 'Asanti'. They are enormously talented, world class musicians and dancers. I feel privileged to be working with them. Over the years of groups coming to study with them, they have fallen in love and been married off to Australians who have brought them back to Melbourne (hence the classes I had been taking in Melbourne). So the company is now fractured, with half of them the group in Melbourne and half in Cape Coast. Those left in Ghana are all keen to hook up with someone so they can leave. There is no opportunity for them in Ghana. Australia won't give them working visas, the only way they can enter the country is to marry.
Makes me wonder about the incredible human resources that are wasted on this planet. These people have such an energy, such a wit, such extraordinary physical skill, such beauty, generosity and grace that is squandered through lack of opportunity, not through lack of will. This group deserve their place on the world stage. It would be Ghana's loss and our gain for all of them to come. I wish I could put them all in my case and fly them away.
They are great teachers and patient with this mixed group of 7 white women. A couple are dancers, nearly all are teachers and we range in age from something like 28 to 50ish. It seems that the whole town is at some stage standing in the doorways and the windows, watching us practice. There is much hilarity and encouraging smiles. The children are divine (though the little boys around the house tend to spend a lot of time beating each other up for fun and it always ends in tears). A young girl called Victoria ...
.. it's a draw... the Ghanaians all stand up and wander out ... no jubilation .. I guess that means that both teams keep going.. bugger I was hoping they would win so I could see them hoot and bounce again.
... a STRIKING young girl called Victoria hangs around for the first two days. She eventually joins in the dance. We learn from Victoria that she wants to learn to dance and sing and drum. Victoria doesn't go to school because she can't afford to pay. It costs $150 a year to attend the public school. We will organise to sponsor her. How many other children in the town are in this situation? There is a private school in town. They pay $250 a year.
The bloke with the microphone is now handing out prizes for people on various computer terminals. Thais has just won a bunch of fizzy drinks and a t-shirt. Gawd I wish he would shut UP.
The others want to go... it's 4 pm and I haven't eaten since breakfast.. gotta gowith the group flow..
more later..
We basically took over the house, moved all the furniture outside to dance and have been made very welcome. I'm a bit confused about how many people usually live there as so many come and go. I would sit out on the verandah and watch the world float past carrying huge loads on their beautiful heads, wearing the most spectacular clothes and be chatting to a stranger(or trying to chat, I don't speak Ghanain and many people have a smattering of English) who described himself as Alex who has a brother who is very talented at football who needs a sponsor, who lives three streets away.
There were always people wandering thought the house that I didn't know.
So.. back to the classes. These a being run by a company called 'Asanti'. They are enormously talented, world class musicians and dancers. I feel privileged to be working with them. Over the years of groups coming to study with them, they have fallen in love and been married off to Australians who have brought them back to Melbourne (hence the classes I had been taking in Melbourne). So the company is now fractured, with half of them the group in Melbourne and half in Cape Coast. Those left in Ghana are all keen to hook up with someone so they can leave. There is no opportunity for them in Ghana. Australia won't give them working visas, the only way they can enter the country is to marry.
Makes me wonder about the incredible human resources that are wasted on this planet. These people have such an energy, such a wit, such extraordinary physical skill, such beauty, generosity and grace that is squandered through lack of opportunity, not through lack of will. This group deserve their place on the world stage. It would be Ghana's loss and our gain for all of them to come. I wish I could put them all in my case and fly them away.
They are great teachers and patient with this mixed group of 7 white women. A couple are dancers, nearly all are teachers and we range in age from something like 28 to 50ish. It seems that the whole town is at some stage standing in the doorways and the windows, watching us practice. There is much hilarity and encouraging smiles. The children are divine (though the little boys around the house tend to spend a lot of time beating each other up for fun and it always ends in tears). A young girl called Victoria ...
.. it's a draw... the Ghanaians all stand up and wander out ... no jubilation .. I guess that means that both teams keep going.. bugger I was hoping they would win so I could see them hoot and bounce again.
... a STRIKING young girl called Victoria hangs around for the first two days. She eventually joins in the dance. We learn from Victoria that she wants to learn to dance and sing and drum. Victoria doesn't go to school because she can't afford to pay. It costs $150 a year to attend the public school. We will organise to sponsor her. How many other children in the town are in this situation? There is a private school in town. They pay $250 a year.
The bloke with the microphone is now handing out prizes for people on various computer terminals. Thais has just won a bunch of fizzy drinks and a t-shirt. Gawd I wish he would shut UP.
The others want to go... it's 4 pm and I haven't eaten since breakfast.. gotta gowith the group flow..
more later..
The World Cup in an Internet Cafe in Accra
It's..... Saturday I think.
Just driven from our peaceful, noisy village in the country to Accra, the capital of Ghana.
The Wold Cup is still on.
Stuck in a traffic jam surrounded by street hawkers when Australia scored their first goal. A van full of squealing Australian women. I'm not patriotic, I don't squeal unless I stub my toe. I am tranformed. I squealed.
The internet cafe is air conditioned, huge, and has a big screen and big sound system. It's full of Ghanains. We walk in as Ghana scores its first goal. Ghanains know how to bounce... and hoot. Magic. Hundreds of them. Couldn't stop laughing.
Now it's half time.
Why are the sound systems here always distorted?
This first week has been amazing.
First impressions in a sleep deprived haze were a bit overwhelming. Sharing a room on the other side of clean with someone I just met.. and sharing a bed. Trying to get a too small mosquito net up when I couldn't stand up without wobbling sideways. Waking to an omelette, white bread sandwich when I don't eat wheat, running out of water momentarily and remembering not to drop the toilet paper down the toilet... but in the basket next to it, a two day headache, the incredible humidity, the rational fear of mosquitoes.
Game's back on... if I look hard left I have a clear view of the screen. Australia just nearly scored.
I never watch soccer.
The constant NOISE. The rooster goes off at 4 am, then someone starts sweeping. The dog begins whining, then the chatting ... and the yelling.. not agressive yelling, Ghanians just get passionate about things sometimes.
Breakfast at 7:30 am. The television is on in two rooms on different stations, the bar next door is playing loud, distorted, fabulous music and the traditional medicine man down the road is spruiking his product on what sounds like the towns PA system (the following day it was announcements for the over 18s that they must enrol to vote before 2013.. QUICK!)
Going to post now in case I lose this connection...
Just driven from our peaceful, noisy village in the country to Accra, the capital of Ghana.
The Wold Cup is still on.
Stuck in a traffic jam surrounded by street hawkers when Australia scored their first goal. A van full of squealing Australian women. I'm not patriotic, I don't squeal unless I stub my toe. I am tranformed. I squealed.
The internet cafe is air conditioned, huge, and has a big screen and big sound system. It's full of Ghanains. We walk in as Ghana scores its first goal. Ghanains know how to bounce... and hoot. Magic. Hundreds of them. Couldn't stop laughing.
Now it's half time.
Why are the sound systems here always distorted?
This first week has been amazing.
First impressions in a sleep deprived haze were a bit overwhelming. Sharing a room on the other side of clean with someone I just met.. and sharing a bed. Trying to get a too small mosquito net up when I couldn't stand up without wobbling sideways. Waking to an omelette, white bread sandwich when I don't eat wheat, running out of water momentarily and remembering not to drop the toilet paper down the toilet... but in the basket next to it, a two day headache, the incredible humidity, the rational fear of mosquitoes.
Game's back on... if I look hard left I have a clear view of the screen. Australia just nearly scored.
I never watch soccer.
The constant NOISE. The rooster goes off at 4 am, then someone starts sweeping. The dog begins whining, then the chatting ... and the yelling.. not agressive yelling, Ghanians just get passionate about things sometimes.
Breakfast at 7:30 am. The television is on in two rooms on different stations, the bar next door is playing loud, distorted, fabulous music and the traditional medicine man down the road is spruiking his product on what sounds like the towns PA system (the following day it was announcements for the over 18s that they must enrol to vote before 2013.. QUICK!)
Going to post now in case I lose this connection...
Monday, June 14, 2010
Agono Swedru
Arrived at Accra Airport as Ghana went in to battle with Mexico in their first game of the World Cup. Seems half the city had set themselves up in the arrivals lounge in front of a big screen and place was going off.
On leaving the airport we were greeting by an amazing drum and dance performance by Asanti in our arrival honour, surrounded by another throng of football watchers. We got very excited. The football watchers seems a little bemused and not impressed that we wwere interrupting the game.
So after 24 hours of flying I was ready to kick back with a cup of tea in a swank something somewhere. 7 of us, 12 of the dancers, drums and baggage fitted in the a 15 seater van and drove to a market of sorts to pick up our drums, where there was another group of people huddled around a television hooting and honking. Ghana scored at this point. There was jubilition and grand displays of pleasure.
We picked up beautiful drums made for our thwacking pleasure, then took a two hour drive to a village as written above. Byt this stage my brain felt like it was oozing out my eye sockets.
We had a beautiful welcoming ceremny .. computer is threatening to close on me.. must be quick or deft or something ... were given bottles of coke and fed rice and some meaty stuff that was tasty.
Slept the sleep of a dead thing that wakes up a lot.
This morning, warm up, traditional dance class, drumming and now at the local village along a very bumpy road.
I'm in Africa. We are the only white people in a town ful of Africans. I feel strangely at home. I just had a dance with a cop in the street. People are very very friendly, beautiful and poor. There is garbage everwhere... the children are very curious and there are no beggars.
Publishing now in case I lose the connections.. no edit, no reread.. just as it comes from a sleep deprived, jet lagged brain...
On leaving the airport we were greeting by an amazing drum and dance performance by Asanti in our arrival honour, surrounded by another throng of football watchers. We got very excited. The football watchers seems a little bemused and not impressed that we wwere interrupting the game.
So after 24 hours of flying I was ready to kick back with a cup of tea in a swank something somewhere. 7 of us, 12 of the dancers, drums and baggage fitted in the a 15 seater van and drove to a market of sorts to pick up our drums, where there was another group of people huddled around a television hooting and honking. Ghana scored at this point. There was jubilition and grand displays of pleasure.
We picked up beautiful drums made for our thwacking pleasure, then took a two hour drive to a village as written above. Byt this stage my brain felt like it was oozing out my eye sockets.
We had a beautiful welcoming ceremny .. computer is threatening to close on me.. must be quick or deft or something ... were given bottles of coke and fed rice and some meaty stuff that was tasty.
Slept the sleep of a dead thing that wakes up a lot.
This morning, warm up, traditional dance class, drumming and now at the local village along a very bumpy road.
I'm in Africa. We are the only white people in a town ful of Africans. I feel strangely at home. I just had a dance with a cop in the street. People are very very friendly, beautiful and poor. There is garbage everwhere... the children are very curious and there are no beggars.
Publishing now in case I lose the connections.. no edit, no reread.. just as it comes from a sleep deprived, jet lagged brain...
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