This is a really old post that I started writing a while ago but couldn’t finish, because I haven’t been in the office for some time. It refers to my first Friday in Tamale, which was just about three weeks ago now.
It is Friday morning, and time for everyone to meet their respective directors. Four of those of us who are left at the hotel willing be working with Oxfam, or various organizations associated with Oxfam, 2 will be working with OIC, and one will be with Luke at the Community Water and Sanitation Agency (CWSA). I will be working at an NGO name Africa 2000 Network (A2N), more specifically in a section of it known as the Integrated Poverty Reduction Programme (IPRP). I do not yet have a meeting set up as I had been unable to get in contact with them.
OIC and Oxfam are situated in roughly the same area, so we head off in taxis to the relative outskirts of Tamale. It is getting to be very hot, and my long sleeved dress shirt and black pants are much too warm. Oxfam’s office is easy enough to find, but we get lost and misdirected on the way to OIC, so it takes some time for us to get there. When we arrive, we learn that we have missed the director, who had to leave for another meeting. The two volunteers with OIC meet briefly with another person from the office instead and set up a time to return later that day for a tour of the office.
The buildings around this area seem to be mostly NGOs (and NGO executives’ residences) and are much nicer than anything else that I have seen in Tamale. Proof that the development sector really is a business, and people can make a decent livelihood in it. We walk back to where we were to meet after those from Oxfam had finished, and decide to give my boss a call again. There is no answer at the office, but I get through to someone on the cell number. Just before Luke’s phone cuts out, I manage to tell whom ever I am speaking too that I am near the Oxfam office, and they reply that they are headed that way now and would like to pick me up! This is a pretty big surprise to me, as I wasn’t expecting to meet with anyone so soon, but it is exciting all the same.
I walk back to the Oxfam office, and the security guard there greets me. I let him know that I am waiting for someone to pick me up, and he promptly replies that he will find me some place to sit then. He grabs a chair and places it in the shade next to his guard hut and we start chatting. We talk for a while about his past, Ghana, Tamale, and the World Cup, as Ghana’s Black Stars have qualified this year for the first time ever. I am so new to all of these things, and it is interesting to get his perspective on some of the issues the country is having.
His name is Prosper, and he used to work as a police officer in the south, but has now been in Tamale for 13 years. He also is married and has five children back at home – four girls and one boy. He said he would’ve stopped at two if he had a boy earlier, but had to wait until the fifth to get one. His favourite food is Fufu (mashed yams or cassava), and says that his favourite place in Ghana is here in Tamale.
I ask him how he thinks the country is doing, and his biggest complaint is that people are just not working hard enough. He says there are people who just sit all day and play cards and do not even try to make a living. He says that he himself both works as a security guard, and sends money to him home to invest in farming. He grows his own yams, cassava and maize for his family to eat. I wonder if the people he is complaining about have the education or opportunity to work, and if they even own land, but I don’t think its worth asking him about those types or problems at this point. At the same time, he also feels that people are not helping out their families enough. He explains that when one person is well off, he should help out his brothers and sisters who are maybe not doing so well, and this is no longer happening. People should support their families, as he is doing (he is the only of nine siblings that is working) so that everyone in the country can live a decent life.
He also has complaints about the government and how it is run. He points to the gravel road that the Oxfam office is on, and asks me whether or not I have seen roads like this in Canada, and I reply that of course I have. He doesn’t seem to believe me that in a country like Canada there would be dirt roads, but I assure him it is so. But this is the Northern Region’s capital he exclaims, and here he has a point. I concede that in the major cities nearly all of the roads are paved, and he seems satisfied that his point has been made.
At some point an SUV drives up and someone comes up to the gate. The guard gestures at me, and I get up. I ask “Ma’am Yakubu?” and she replies “Yes!” She is a very friendly and warm woman (though I haven’t met many Ghanaians who aren’t) and seems almost grandmotherly. I introduce myself, and she smiles, shake my hand and says that another truck will be along in a few minutes to get me and take me out into the field. First day and I’m already headed out to a community! I am a little surprised, a little bit anxious, but definitely excited. I say goodbye and sit down with the guard again. We chat for a little while longer, and after a considerable wait, I finally get picked up. I hop into the back of the SUV, which is looking pretty new and is well air-conditioned. I’m a little surprised, and almost disappointed given what I had heard about A2N, but I greet Lawrence and Francis, who are sitting in the front, and we take off.
Soon we are off the main paved road of Tamale and driving on the red gravel road that begins. I look out the window at sparse vegetation, round mud huts with thatched roofs and a few concrete buildings here and there. Children wave from the side of the road as always, and I do my best to wave back as often as possible. Eventually, after a few turns on to progressively narrower roads, we arrive at the community. I step back into the heat and follow Francis and Lawrence to where Ma’am Yakubu and several others are sitting on benches. We do some quick introductions, and I learn that Francis and Lawrence and a couple others there are from the UNDP, hence the nice SUV.
People are speaking English for the most part, but I still have trouble understanding the accent at times. The community is apparently running a tree nursery for both profit as well as aforrestation purposes. They have been grafting different varieties of mangoes, some local and some from Burkina Faso, in order to create trees that produce large mangoes that are also drought resistant. I don’t completely understand what’s going on, but I try to absorb as much as possible. One of the men, Paul, is also talking about other problems that they have such as electricity and water problems, as well as the problem of their young girls leaving their community to move to Accra.
I of course have forgotten everyone’s names by the end of the discussion, but it was good to pick up on bits and pieces. It is these visits and conversations that I’m sure will best help me understand both A2N and the people’s perspective on the development that is happening, and where I might have any small impact on the ground while I am overseas.
On the way back I jump into an old green pickup with no air, and no seatbelts. The speedometer never wavers from 0 and it doesn’t look like the odometer has moved very recently either. This is more what I was expecting, and we bounce along back to a restaurant for lunch.
At lunch I eat with Ma’am Yakubu (who is now starting to refer to me as her son) and one of the girls from the UNDP. Although she looks young, she has been doing development work for quite a few years already, and is planning on staying in Ghana for at least another couple of years. We order, and I’m not sure exactly what I should have, and try to order the same thing as the girl before me. Ma’am Yakubu decides that I should get something different, so each person has a different dish, and orders Red-Red for me, which she explains is fried plantains with a bean sauce. Sounds good to me.
We chat idly for a while, and then the food finally arrives. Ma’am Yakubu has a sort of rice dish with a fish (yes, a fish, not pieces of fish, you just get an entire fish that’s been cooked with most of the meals here), the UNDP girl has TZ (another maize-based dish) with some sort of a sauce with a fish in it, and my Red-Red arrives – of course with a fish on the side. We dig in (eating with our hands as per usual) and I get to try some of everyone else’s food. The TZ is good, not sour like the Banku from Accra. It is rather plain, but is pretty decent with the sauce. The rice dish is also good, but not so different than rice/bean dishes I’ve had at home. My dish is good, and I am hungry. I realize that it’s the same as the plantains and sauce I had outside of the bank in Accra, and now I know the name.
About half way through I start slowing down, the plantains are really heavy and I’m starting to fill up. I’m also working my way through my fish, pulling the meat off the bones, although I’ve learned that eating the bones is no problem at all, and is actually a good way to get your calcium. At this point Ma’am Yakubu takes half of her fish and tosses it onto my plate, remarking that it’s a mother’s duty to make sure that her son doesn’t starve. I laugh, but wonder how I’m going to stuff it all in. Eventually (some time after everyone else), I finish triumphantly.
Ma’am Yakubu explains to me that we’ll be visiting a women’s center in the afternoon, and that I should wait for the green pickup to return, while she heads out with the UNDP folks. I wait in the heat with Francis and another guy from the UNDP office. They explain that they’re both on what is called “National Service”, which is a mandatory year of community/social work that every Ghanaian who completes Tertiary education must serve before moving on. We talk a little bit about school, and their plans for the future (Francis is hoping to do his master’s in international development) until the pickup arrives. The driver apologizes for being late, and we pack ourselves into the back and immediately roll down the windows.
We have barely gone a kilometer off of the paved roads of Tamale and we arrive at the center. The rest of the crew is already sitting inside, so we quietly find places in a circle of benches around which thirty or so women of all ages are sitting listening to Ma’am Yakubu. She is speaking in Dagbani, so I have absolutely no idea what is going on. Shortly after sitting down, us latecomers are introduced and I hear my name and ‘Engineers Without Borders’ amidst a bunch of Dagbani. One of the women responds in Dagbani, and Ma’am Yakubu explains to me that they are excited to have me and that they hope I will return every day. I say that I’m very happy to be there and appreciate their warm welcome. Ma’am Yakubu goes on the explain that the women produce a lot of shea butter in the center, as well as weaving and textiles work as well, some of which she passes around.
After a few more words of Dagbani, we head out back behind the center to see where the women process the shea butter. There are solar driers, a room full of shea nuts at various stages of processing, a small shelter that also holds a few gas heated cauldrons, and behind the shelter there are a few fire pits. One of the men explains to me that the ministry of energy brought in the gas cauldrons, but the fuel is too expensive for the women, so they have gone back to the traditional wood burning ways. This is the first (but I’m sure not the last) example I’ve seen of well-intentioned development money that has been spent on equipment that is no longer in use. It is a very real reminder of how easy it is to overlook something, or many things, when it comes to development work.
We wave goodbye, and start back towards the IPRP office to talk briefly about my work. I get introduced to everyone at the office, and get a quick review of what’s happening. Apparently the project that I was supposed to be focused on has been delayed due to a problem with the UN’s financial system and the release of the funds. The project should have already been underway, but instead will not start for at least another couple of weeks or longer. This means that for now I’m just to focus on learning about IPRP and A2N, and helping out wherever I can.
Ma’am Yakubu must head back to Accra in the morning with the UNDP people, so I’ll be left under the care of Mr. Tahidu, who I’ll be living with. She insists that I move out of the hotel immediately and move into his place, and keeps asking me why they’d keep in a place like the Maacos. She was even expecting me to call her when I landed in Accra to stay at her place while I was there instead of in the hotel with everyone else! I’m both excited about moving into a house, and a little bit nervous about breaking off from the rest of the group, but I’m glad that I have a place to stay, unlike some of the others who still have to look for host families.
At the Maacos we pick up my things, but I’ll be heading out later with everyone else to a goodbye party for Tom as he is soon heading out on his Niger River trip (see www….) so it’s not goodbye yet. As I pack everything up, Ma’am Yakubu goes to greet the rest of the EWBers, and I’m sure does a very good job of keeping them entertained and interested. I grab the last of my things, give Ian some money for our room and then haul everything to the car.
A short ride later through the streets of Tamale (which seem to twist every which way in order to completely disorientate me) we pull in behind a couple of storefronts. As I grab some of my stuff and get my first glimpse of my residence for the next couple of months. The house is set up almost like a motel, with two sides of the complex being walls, and the other two being rows of rooms with porches. These four walls enclose a courtyard with two large mango trees, a water tank, and what looks like a large wooden crate (which I later learn is also a big pit for holding water).
I’m shown the way into my room and I drop off my stuff in one of the corners. The room itself is about the size of a single dorm room, and has a desk, a double bed and a few other things. Not bad I’m thinking to myself, more space than the hotel room for sure. At this point Mr. Tahidu introduces me to his son, who has been helping carry things. “This is Mumin, your roommate!” he says. I piece things together and realize that I’ll be sharing a room and a bed with him for the next couple of months.
I head back outside and get some quick introductions to people in the house. There is Mr. Tahidu’s wife, his mother, and his mother’s sister, all living in the house. None of them speak English however, so I just smile and wave and talk with Ma’am Yakubu and Mr. Tahidu quickly, before Mumin and I decide to head off for a quick tour around the neighbourhood, which is called Lameshegu.
We get to know each other as we walk around, and I find out that he is also in University. He’s in his third and final year at Tamale Polytechnic taking statistics, and should be finished before the end of the summer. His family also has four boys, he’s second in line however, and has an older brother who is doing his national service, a brother in senior secondary school and a brother still in primary school as well. I talk a bit about my school and my family in Canada as well.
Eventually we reach a football (soccer for you folks at home) pitch, where a match is going on. I can see that everyone playing is really good, and being a complete non-footballer, I know that I’ve got a lot to learn. I tell Mumin as much and he says that we’ll have to get out training sometime soon. I’m hoping I’ll be a quick learner, as I’ve got a long ways to go before anyone will even think of letting me near a football.
After the quick tour of where the Internet café is, and where the taxis make it to, we head back home quickly to let Mr. Tahidu know that we’re heading back to the Maacos to meet up before Tom’s party. I thank Mr. Tahidu for the room and Mumin and I head out into the night.
… And there’s another one on the way about general life in Ghana, I’m in the office this week so hopefully it’ll be up before I head out into the field again.