Crocodiles, Hippos and Goats

Well, I have been able to get around a bit more in the last few weekends and with more of a sense of urgency. It is really starting to set in that I will soon be making my final preparations for coming back home and I am already starting to go into some pre-Ghana withdraw. Less than four weeks and I will be back on a plane to Canada.

Two weekends ago I got the chance to go to Paga, which is the majour northern border town between Ghana and Burkina Faso. Paga is also known for its sacred crocodiles. The trip up to Paga through Bolgatanga was relatively painless. Since it is a majour crossing point there are plenty of tro-tros going up to Bolga and Paga. I only had to wait about 45 minutes before our tro-tro from Tamale to Bolga left. In the time waiting I got the chance to do a bit of reading and also found a new great snack in the tro-tro station. I imagine it has been here all along but I just found it recently. It is shredded coconut that is some how stuck together in balls about the size of a Timbit. They are really very delicious and a nice little snack. The only difficulty is trying to find the woman with it on her head. So far I have only been able to find her around the tro-tro station. Anyways Bolga is about 2 hours from Tamale and Paga another 30 minutes from Bolga. The first day I spent in Bolga searching the town and looking through their market. Bolga is known for their basket weavers and I spent a bit of time looking at all their crafts (Bolga is where I got the weaved hat I nearly always wear the first time I went through it for work). While in Bolga I was once again reminded at how trusting and safe it is at least in the Northern Region. We stopped in a restaurant to look at the menu but decided it was a bit too pricey and moved on to another one about a 35-minute walk away. After the meal about 2 hours later I noticed that I had “lost” my digital camera. The last place I remember having it was at the first restaurant so in a slight panic (“oh man Erin is going to kill me”) I pay and rush out to get back to the first place before it closes. It is about 10pm by now which is pretty late for here. I get into the restaurant in about 20 minutes and it is nearly deserted except for a few people enjoying some drinks at the bar. Immediately, I move over to the table I was at to check but the camera is gone. I am certain I am a dead man. In a last hope I ask one of the workers if they found a camera I had forgotten and am relived by the smile and the “we were wondering when you would be back” as she directs me to behind the bar where my camera was placed for safekeeping. Once again I am overwhelmed by the honesty of the people here and this is only just one example of it.

The next day I head out to Paga to check out the “sacred” crocodiles. I’m not sure how it developed but apparently the people of Paga have a relationship with the crocodiles where they do not kill them and the crocs will not kill a person. Apparently if a person kills a crocodile then a crocodile will kill a person soon afterwards. Anyways, at the crocodile pool I pay for a fowl that is to be used as a lure to get the crocs out of the water. The guide brings us to the edge and shakes the chicken and a croc lumbers out onto dry land. I wonder if a crocodile has been murdered recently as the reptile pulls itself out of the water and the guide encourages me to get closer. The guide ensures that all is safe as long as you don’t stand in front of the croc. Shortly after I have moved behind and am picking up the croc’s tail. Pretty cool experience for me but not so much for the fowl as the guide throws it into the air and the croc snaps his jaws on it. It turns and heads back into the water as I, still with the tail in hand, try and get out of his way. I spend the next little while walking around the pool and looking at some of the other crocodiles in the water and some guarding babies in the shallows. Afterwards, I check out some of the interesting housing, which in this more northerly part of the country are mostly square flat roofed mud buildings with painted walls. Overall holding the tail of a live crocodile pretty cool (even if it is habituated to people).

Next weekend the EWB Tamale crew (myself included) move up to Wa in the North Western region to visit some other EWB volunteers and try and get a glimpse of some wild hippos. Wa was really nice and we had a great time despite not seeing any hippos. However the search for the hippos was half the fun of this part of the trip. In order to get to the village where the conservatory is established I needed to take a bush taxis. It is basically a pick up truck converted to carrying people and cargo. The box has wooden benches fasten to the sides and a metal cage over the top somewhat like a camper. It takes about 40 minutes to travel from Wa to the Weichau where the office of the sanctuary is. The actual river is another 18 km from Weichau. We opt for taking the more scenic option and rent bicycles to peddle to the river. The terrain is pretty nice and quiet and the cycle is not too strenuous. It takes about 70-80 minutes to peddle to the river. At the river there are some more dug out canoes which we take to look for hippos unfortunately they apparently have moved and we don’t see any but get to peddle back the 18 km now in the hot heat of mid day. Despite not actually seeing any hippos it was nice to get out and see the countryside and the paddle on the river was fun also. Luckily it is Weichau market day and there are plenty of bush taxis going back to Wa. Once in the market we find one that is nearly full and should leave shortly so I hope in. I get the seat closest to the tailgate and all things considered am pretty comfortable with the other 12 people in the back of the pickup with all their goods from the market. What is not crammed in the back with us the driver is trying to strap to the roof so we can leave.

It is at this point when I notice a man walking straight up to us dragging behind him about a dozen goats. Of course he is coming along and without the slightest hesitation he starts passing goats up to the driver on the top of the cage. In about ten minutes all the goats are somehow on the roof except for one, which apparently there is no more room for. After a few more minutes of shifting around and debating the driver decides that there is just enough room for the goat between my legs. Once again without hesitation he picks the goat up and plops him in the box square between my legs. Not too sure which end of the goat I would like facing me but relatively sure they don’t bite I go for the end with the horns. A few more minutes pass and the truck is off and on our way back to Wa. As the owner of the goats does not get into the back with us I assume he on the roof of the truck watching over his herd. Less than ten minutes into our trip back the truck has to stop as the engine is overheating. Apparently there is a leak in the radiator and we have to keep stopping to fill it up with water. At the second or third stop I figure I have had enough of the bumpy road and the wondering of when this goat was going to make his move for freedom by butting me his horns and making a break for it so I step out of the box and make my way up to the roof for some fresh air. It is way more comfortable up on the roof (if your not a goat of course). Along with the 11 goats (actually 10 goats and 1 sheep) there are several huge sacks of charcoal and some other large baskets and Mohammed the owner of the goats. As the radiator is getting topped up I notice a man from the village we stopped at quickly move to the truck and take my seat in the box and I soon realize that I riding the roof the remainder of the way back to Wa. All things considered I think that the roof is definitely the way to travel. Mohammed filed me in on some of the local scenery and customs and the fresh air and legroom was much appreciated. The key was watching the road ahead to look out for bumps in order to find something to hold on to. Considering I was sitting on a bag of charcoal and had 11 goats with me it was really enjoyable. Mohammed explained how he continuously moves between Wa and Accra (at least a 20 hour trip but probably more like 30 or 40) buying goats in the north and selling them in the south. He makes less than $6 per goat on a trip that can take him a few weeks before he returns. Overall he is lucky if he makes about $2-3 per day by my calculations while for the majority of the time he is away from his wife and kids who live in Wa. Overall I am really grateful for the time spent on top of the bush taxis with Mohamed and his 11 goats and his willingness to share his story with me. As we pull into Wa about an hour later because of all the stops I realize that this could be the last time, at least for a little while, where I could share the top of a pickup with 10 goats and a sheep. Of course as we pull into the town the driver tells us to get off the roof as the police might not like it so Mohamed and stand on the bumper and hang on to the cage for the ride from the outskirts to Wa’s tro-tro station. As we pull in I wish Mohamed good luck and see him off and realize once again that Ghana is great!

Take care and God Bless,

Jason

Roads...

Roadways are very interesting here in the northern region.

I have continued to spend more and more time in the district interviewing communities and most recently looking into specific issues like high fluoride bore holes and faulty installations. The roadways have proved more and more interesting the further out they are from the regional capital and the further it is into the rainy season. Paved roads are the exception rather than the rule which is no big deal but if they are not paved it only takes one or two good rains before a passable road is deemed only passable by foot. This of course is assuming it was relatively well taken care of before the rains. Some communities are so far off the “main” roads that a foot path is the only real way to get into the village and this may mean a 1 hour hike.

Recently I was in a district near the Togo border and needed to visit a village on the other side of the River Oti. The river is quite large and there is no bridge over it in this district. Luckily the partner organization that NORWASP was working with had motorcycles and one of their field staff, Annas, was from the same village so he volunteered to take me there. So off I went on the back of the “moto” for about 45 minutes along a relatively well maintained dirt road until it suddenly stops at what appears to be a cliff. So I hope off and Annas edges the bike closer to the rim of the ravine that leads down to the river. Soon enough though a man who I later discover is a boatman arrives at the top and grabs the bike from Annas and lowers it down the very steep slope. At the bottom there are three long dug out canoes, two of which are loaded with bicycles and passengers and are headed across the river. On the other bank about 100 meters away I can see a few other travelers waiting to come the other way. The boatman, with some assistance, picks the moto up and balances it into the canoe then gestures for me and Annas to get in. I few other passengers load in and the boatman moves to his position at the back of the craft. Another boatman pushes the craft from shore and we make our way across the river. At about the midway point we pass one of the other canoes full of bicycles and travelers moving in the opposite direction. Soon enough the boatman beaches our canoe on the other bank and I hop out. Oh year along the way they are telling me of all the crocodiles that are in the water and that I should jump in and take a swim. I’m not sure if they are serious or just trying to get me going. Anyways on the other side they haul the moto out and ride it up the steep slope to the top of the ravine. We pay the set fare and promise to meet them on the way back out. I hope they keep their promise as they are the only way across the river. Another 20 minute ride and we are at the community. I do my interaction with them and on the way back it is basically the same experience. Overall it was really quite fun.

The next week I was even further away from Tamale in a district called Zabzugu. This district had the worst roads I have seen thus far it took about 2 and a half hours just to get to the district and the roads to the district capital were sign of interesting events ahead. The majority of them are questionably passable by truck or motorcycle. For one village I went to with a different partner organization we had about an hour truck ride across some “roads” I’m sure are deemed impassable and was sure more than once that we were to get stuck. This was some serious off-roading by Canadian standards. Then after we deemed we could not go any further another 45 minutes on the back of a motorcycle across a dirt foot path that I really wasn’t sure was there at times until we had to give up the moto. Then a 150 meter trudge through a thigh deep stream that appears during that rains. Followed by a 30 minute walk into the actual community. Then the same thing on the way out. Another fun experience overall.

Although for me it really seemed like an adventure it did highlight another majour struggle.

Imagine getting seriously sick in one of these communities?

More than likely you don’t have access to a motorized vehicle immediately and even if you did in the rainy season it way not help that much. It could literally take you hours or even days before you made it to a majour road or crossing to try and get a lift to the closest trained medical care. Infrastructure really needs to be improved to help allow access to better healthcare, access to education and markets along with many other things. Hopefully, with debt relief and the liberated income this generates, this can be one of the things that the government can work on improving. Of course, this is just my humble opinion on one thing that debt relief and the freed income generated can assist in I am sure much greater minds are thinking on this issue who are much more aware of the complexities of it all. Regardless, a simple thing like a safe and reliable road to travel on can provide so much more security. Improved access to food supply as travel is made more easy, improved education as teachers can now travel to more remote areas or will actually live there, and improved access to healthcare to name but a few. It is funny the things that we take for granted. In Ontario at least, you would be hard pressed to find a road that is impassable for 4 months of the year and only marginally passable the remainder. Even in the winter it doesn’t take long before people are complaining that no one has plowed there residential street of about 40 homes imagine if this were the case for the main arterial road?

Just something to think about.

Take care and God Bless,

Jason

Habituated…

It’s amazing how quickly we become accustomed to things. At first the wonder of the long summer days with sunlight till well after eight is a marvel but it quickly becomes the norm and we soon forget about the cold winter bite and shortened days. How at first my head would nearly double over trying to fathom how someone can balance a TV set on their head while riding a bicycle I now barely even notice them whizzing by even when they brush my shoulder. Acustomization, habituation, just plain getting used to the nature of things it’s really quite strange. Maybe that’s why I have found it a bit difficult to find something to write about lately (besides being even busier than before). Everything just kind of seems more normal now.

About a week ago I did see something very new though and that has been really thought provoking for me. While out and about I saw a glimpse of the Live 8 concert on one of the TVs facing the street. I stopped to observe a bit and it got me thinking. Bono, Geldof, Madonna, and other pop stars standing together challenging our officials to make some real change. It is all so new so invigorating so empowering. Then more recently the G8 summit and the “outcomes and initiatives” they are putting forward.

So I really wonder what the Live 8 concert will actually achieve. I hope that it will be more than just a great free concert and a lot of people getting together with good intentions. Good intentions are great and a place to start but what we need is action. After all 20 years ago we had a similar movement with Bono replaced by Bob Dylan called Live Aid. But twenty years later most people will agree that the gap between the poor and rich has widened and that many countries (especially in sub-Saharan Africa) are worse of now than they were 20 years ago.

On the face of it, making poverty history seems a straightforward task. We the people standing together will force our politicians to make change, real change that will actually help. Like making trade fairer (i.e. by removing agricultural subsidies for example), relieving the debt and delivering more and better aid. We will do this by standing together and one way we can show our solidarity could be by wearing the white “make poverty history” bands. But simply wearing wristbands is not going to do anything and it could fall into just a new fad of looking like you care. We need to use the power that all of us have to make change. Our voice is one of the most powerful weapons we have in the fight against poverty.

Oh yeah around 30 years ago Canada (amongst several countries) agreed to commit 0.7% of our GDP to international aid. We have yet to come through on this promise to our impoverished bothers and sisters around the world. Right now Canada is at around 0.3% one of the lowest actual values of the countries that have promised. Why have we never come through? There are probably a bunch of different reasons but one is definitely that we didn’t use our voice to let our politicians know that we support this idea and that if they want to stay in power they better perform the will of the people.

So now about 4 days ago we have once again “agreed” to certain initiatives to help the poor (through the G8). But promises are not action. We need not get accustomed, not fall asleep. Certain things should never become common place. And we need to continue to apply pressure to make more change.

The responsibility is on us each one of us as an individual and collectively to make poverty history. I know I feel the weight on my shoulders and I hope that I always will. I hope to never get used to the burden to always do what I can in what ever way I am capable. There are many different things that each one of us can make change we just need to have the will to look for how we can best make a difference and follow through with it. There is much work to be done in Canada that could have a huge impact to many more people than I will by coming to Ghana. One is by not forgetting our promise and not letting our elected officials forget these promises and let them know the repercussions if they do not follow through. One way we can do this is by signing the Make Poverty History petition at www.makepoveryhistory.ca and emailing our members of parliament to let them now how we feel. Canada will be coming to an election soon probably within 12 month this is a great time to keep the pressure on. We can also speak with our friends and family and ask them to do the same (that’s what I’m doing now). We can also become more educated in the issues and learn. But we must remember not to get accustomed to it and to keep persistent. This will take time but if we stick it through we can make change at home and abroad.

There is no doubt that the issues are complex and the road will not be easy but we can do our part by starting to use our voice more and reminding those in power what we want.

Take Care and God Bless,
Jason

ps. I think I figured out how to add images so next week hopefully I will upoad some things in the mean time maybe pass the word a long and start creating some pressure back home. Keep up the good work everyone.