Development of Waste or Waste of Development

- either way is has produced a lot of trash!

On a weekend visit to Elmina in Ghana we decided to walk into town, mostly because the taxi we called didn't show up and after some 45 minutes we decided that we could just as easily walk...

It was only some 45 minutes we were looking at so why not (should you make the same decision, put on sunscreen). All in all it seemed like a great idea – a nice walk on the beach!

Now we were given the advise to turn in through the village before we reached town, or the beach became dirty...

After about 20 min walk we passed a fishing village. They were hauling in the nets, and there were quite a lot of people around - and fish not to forget. After this we came past the village dump and the beach was for some time full of empty half litre water sachets. These sachets are most peoples access to pure water, and they are to some extend recycles, but obviously not all go through that process.

As we continued on towards the town, we came upon the larger village area that is the out skits, and the poorer one, of Elmina. We figured that when they had said the beach turns dirty, that this meant something like what we encountered earlier. This turned out to be a wrong assumption.

Not everything is as it seems.

We climbed the rocks creating a natural peer, and here we found ourselves in the toilet. Literally!

The rocks were the toilet of the entire village, and as we passed it became more and more used, so here we were jumping - carefully I might mention – in between human shit. As we were trying not to step in anything that would leave permanent memories – worse than it was at the time – we were somehow also wondering how many diseases we would be carrying with us from here – at least I was.

This thought somehow developed from concerning me, to concerning the kids in the village. This concern was brought on by the fact that amongst all this human biological waste, the kids used the water puddles between the rocks as bathtubs... Somehow they seemed to have missed the day in school were they were taught how diseases spread.

We managed to get through the toilet, none of us more contaminated than we could proceed. So we did – on to the dumping grounds of this village... not a pretty sight.

Anything that was somehow plastic waste was here. And it stretched for what I would guess to be half a square kilometre... that is a lot of waste. And guess what this also seemed to double as – the kids play ground. And here my thoughts were once again taken back to that class on spread of diseases... really wish someone in this area would have attended school that day.

Now I am not blaming people here for the massive waste – what are their options? I am blaming all of us. We consume like there is no tomorrow, and we in the western world (not really sure about this concept, west of what, the east, well how is that determined unless we have a centre... anyway) somehow try to do well with it and dispose of the waste in an attempted environmental manner.

But what happens here?

If people here don't know the risk of their kids getting sick by bathing in water where someone just shit (oh year, we were swimming a few kilometres down the beach - but in the ocean...) then how can they know about environmentally friendly ways of disposing of trash. And even if they did, how would they do it as it is costly, and doesn't seem to be a priority of the government?

Plastic, palm trees and blue sky

We proceeded from the dumping site into town, and walked around for a bit until we took a taxi back to our weekend home.

When safely arrived we, of course, went to the beach and out for a swim – felt we needed to get cleaned up a bit... however I was joined by a plastic bag in the water... as I escaped a closer encounter with it and lied on my back to float on the waves I looked at the beach here. So nice! Absolutely clean, and when looking up it was palm trees and blue sky... and yet less than 4 km to the east, it was a garbage dump (I still had an eye on the plastic bag in the water. Knowing where it potentially came from I was very happy for the high level of salt in the water)...!

Now if we hadn't taken that walk, I wouldn't have known about the toilet and the garbage dump, and I would have left thinking that all the beach of Elmina was amazing and beautiful. It isn't.

My experience of the beach while floating around in the water was that of a tourist. The experience those growing up here get is that the beach is a place for shitting and dumping garbage...

Somehow the two seem contrasting.

Would I go back to Elmina and stay on the beach out of town – absolutely! Would I wish I had some skills in the field of developing proper dumping sites, public toilets and hygiene and sanitation teaching – absolutely!

Unfortunately I don't. So I will go back to Elmina, and just enjoy the beach and walk through the village and not the toilet should we go for another walk.

But should I know anyone who is looking for a development project that will not be a development of waste – but preferably the contrary. I think Elmina might prove a good place for a pilot.

Have a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

My life in Ghana.

I keep thinking that there must be so many things I have wondered about, seen and laughed at while I have been here and I should share this. I am sure there are a million things. I just cannot think of them right now. 

And I think many things that I find amusing are only amusing if you can relate. If not you will not at all the see fun in it, only the dysfunctionality. Example – try to pay with the equivalent of USD 10 in the airport in Tamale in the morning – unless you are using it all - there will be no change. I mean why would you ensure there is money in the store when you open, that is just overrated... and that seems to be the case all over Ghana... the standard line is – oh sorry no change... OK, guess I won’t buy then... I have learned of course, so I always have change, but my Ghanaian colleague this morning refused to submit to that. :)

Generally my life in Ghana is turning out quite well though. I am sad that two of my friends will be leaving Ghana in less than a month and life will become somewhat quieter... but I guess I will just have to make an effort to meet people to hang out with... oh – but I like my sofa and tv shows so much... bum bum...

In general though. I could not love my life more. I get to live in amazing places and do stuff few people dream off (like rafting the Nile in South Sudan, or hang out at beaches and pools in November... ok some people do even more amazing things, but still).

It is so privileged, and I get to spend my holidays with people I love in other amazing places... Like New Years in Lisbon with amazing people – I cannot wait.

Life is a bitch - except when it is not and it is just GREAT! :)

Ghana vs Ghana and South Sudan

Settling in Ghana

Since my arrival some weeks ago a reoccurring question has been: do you see any change since you were here last?

That seems like a rather easy question to answer. But it really isn’t.

I mean, yes it is easy to say there are more roads now, well in the sense that more roads have been fixed and is tarmaced.

But aside from that...

Ghana I am sure has changed, but I don’t remember what it was like. I remember South Sudan.

Now if the question is: is Ghana very different from South Sudan the answer is ‘yes, very’.

But then the tricky part comes again –how is it different?

Well there are the obvious elements – there are tarmac roads from south to north in Ghana. There are streetlights in most larger towns. And most buildings are permanent structures, even in the rural areas. Of course the mud homes exist, but not as a sense of poverty, more as tradition... and they are build like ‘kraals’ not as single huts.

And then all the things that are hard to explain, unless both has been experienced, from clothing styles, to accents and hand shakes... 

I remembered Ghana reflecting my experience in Uganda, but even if those two countries are more similar – there is still a major difference from East to West on this continent, and they have to be experienced, as they (or I cannot at least) be explained.

Maybe one of the challenges for me to settle in Ghana is also work.

The job description is not that different, but due to the level of development and organisational structures, the work is. And I am lost!!!

Ghana doesn’t live up to any of the ‘most vulnerable’ ’most deprived’ ‘most at risk’ requirements so many donors like to set. There are of course all these groups in society, but as a country by comparison to other – definitely not. Or possibly I am just too marked and don’t see the deprivation, in my excitement of the overall development level...

Somehow it seems the main challenge many partners here is facing, is ‘how to involve women in governance and decision making’ (this somehow is universal it seems) and ‘how to make governance non party political?’ especially in this run up to the election in December...

The latter is very different from that of many is South Sudan working more on the level of ‘how do we protect people from being tortured or killed when speaking their political opinions?’...

This is not to say that the tasks facing Ghana are not challenging they definitely are – they are just at a different level.

And I am sure the longer I say the more I will catch on.

The faith of a Fulani family

Meet Fatima.


She is (by my guess) somewhere between 30 and 35. She is Fulani and she is the sole provider of 3 children aging from around 9 to 16 (I think)...

The eldest girl has just joined the household from Bukina Faso and is in a situation where she has to choose to stay here in Ghana or go back. Who she goes back to is unclear as her father is roaming in parts of Ghana and not providing for her or her mother.

The middle child is Issifu. I guess he is around 10 or 12... not sure. He spends his day hearding cattle with help from his little brother.

Issifu is the reason I met Fatima and the other siblings. An IBIS inetrn met Issifu at a school project graduation one day (those of you who read danish: http://helene.toenning.com/?p=155). He had driven his cattle to grase in the area around the school. He apparently does this regularely to be able to see the children going to school. For Issifu that is all he asks at the moment - to go to school.

And this is why we on Wednesday morning drove from Bole southwards to the minig village Tinga. This is the area where Issifu lives. We passed the school, a small household a small stream and a larger stream and there was the field with the cattle pen in the corner, and Issifu milking. We left him to finish milking and went to find his family.

When we entered the outside grounds of the household we met Issufu's mother - Fatima, holding a sheep in a rope. She greated us with a big smile and asked us to go inside to meet the head of the household.

And now it becomes interesting. Issifu's family lives with a person to whom they have no relation. Fatima has 'bonded' them to this house hold in exchange for a room and food. The family works in the House hold, Fatima helps with the domestic choores and on the farm, the sister works with domestic choores  and Issifu and his brother tends to the cattle.

While talking to the head of the house hold he informed us that he himself found education very important, and that he was putting his own 7 children through school... And potentially maybe if Fatima could also take on Issifu's cattle tending duties he could see that Issifu could go to school. Unfortunatley, the tow wives in the Household didn't seem to think this was a good idea, as they would then loose the extra two hands Fatima provided them... what the outcome will be is still to be determined. IBIS field staff is returning next week to follow up on potential solutions.

However I don't see much light as a single case. The Fulani are not highly regarded in the Ghanaian society, they are a roaming tribe tening to cattle, and they are settlers in Ghana, not originally from here. Few Fulanis have become wealthy and those who have, have often done so by being given cattle as a gift after many years of hearding service.

I don't know how many families are finding themselves in modern day slave bondage with local farmers, but I am sure that we have not met the only family of the kind. And I truly hope that we can find a way to change the faits of these families, so also their children get a chance to go to school. Advocacy to change the minds of people seems the way forward on this and many other issues.

Accra day 1.

Accra

I am back in Africa. :) finally!

Most of us have these experiences of time being extremly relative. Some things go SO fast, and then when you sit down and think about it at the same time it feels like a million years.

That is basically the experience I had today walking down Oxfordstreet in Accra. It looks exactly the same, most of the hotels, shops and restaurants etc are the same - and then some new ones have appeared. I felt like I might as well have been walking there 4 years ago, when I was here last.

But then, it is so different. Last time I was here, it was with different people and in a different role. I walked past the road leading to my new house thinking, wow in a few hours I am moving down there. This is 'home' now, and I know absolutly noone - I don't even know my own house yet...

I know this will change but, sometimes when you start over, even if it is in a well known place, it is just... Yeah, it is waht it is. But I am definilty far away from Juba. And right now I just want to be there - how long before Accra and not Juba is 'home' I wonder?

But all those worries aside - I am here. There is a nice breeze coming from the water, it is humid like... well let us say it is humid. :) And I am in Accra!!!! Somehow that just makes me smile.

and in about 30 minutes I move to my very own apartment - where I will be living alone for the first time in my life - not sure this is the right place to do that experiment though... :)





 

A thought, on culture, money and Africa in general – just to keep it simple...

The Cultural Heritage Centre in Arusha.

While entering the cultural centre there are two things that are apparent – this place caters to tourists and I am one. Even if I am not...  

The set up is appealing, it becomes clear that this place exists for a purpose – to educate granted, but definitely also to create a profit.

When arriving we are firstly introduced to a TV screen telling us that this is the place to visit, if you want to know anything about Tanzanian ‘culture’. Second we are told that pieces are kept and sold from all over Africa followed by an image of the continent. I am not sure what to think of this. Africa holds 54 DIFFERENT nations, and yet when ‘selling’ it to outsiders, that isn’t important. Tanzania is Africa, Kenya is Africa, Uganda is Africa, Benin is Africa, Ghana is Africa, Liberia is Africa – and they are all here... within this one facility you can meet ALL of Africa...

After moving from the introductory video, also telling us about the specific Tanzanian carving tradition of the ‘family trees’, carved from one piece of wood, and taking up 18 years to complete, we move on to a display of Masaai living.

We are introduced to huts, people and cattle. The setting is created – this is the ‘real’ culture, the real Africa. It fits every idea you had before coming – however much it contradicts the traffic on the highway right next to the centre.

After I get over my uncomfortability of being an ‘outsider’ and the annoyance of the simplicity of the display of ‘African culture’ I start taking in the place with somewhat more of an open mind. But before I surrender completely to this, I do spend a bit of time pondering why I am so against the concept of ‘tourist’ and that businesses cater to this group. It would be silly of the business not to, and if you are never a tourist, how do you ever visit anywhere new? I mean, look around, I am in a group of people, where only three are from this country and only one from this area... we are all ‘tourists’ and I am the only one who seems to mind.

Passing from the traditional display of ‘culture’ we move towards the new art gallery, while I pass through the gate into this area my mood changes. Outside here, we also have all sorts of displays of Tanzanian traditional life – the young Masaai men trying to take down a lion to enter manhood, rows of cattle, a boat with ‘Arab’ looking persons mixed with ‘Africans’ taking us to the Tanzanian coast, and lots of statues of animals, from hippoes to giraffes and elephants.

We are received by some 3 meter tall wood carvings, these being the ‘traditional’ carvings of one of the tribes in Tanzania. They are quite amazing. They are almost like a totem pole. Except some of these are carved fully, and hollow, if I was able to twist my arm enough, I would actually be able to reach through it. I dare not try though, what if this one is one of the ones taking 18 years to carve, and I break it... I don’t think I have enough money to pay for that damage. So instead I admire it. It is interesting, people climbing on people and animals, all shapes and sizes all doing something different. Most of them however with a somewhat tormented facial expression.

If I hadn’t already wormed up to this place by now, I certainly did when I entered ‘the new art gallery’. I cannot put my finger on it, but I felt somewhat like I do when I enter into a large cathedral. Maybe it was the worm lighting, the coloured glass windows, or the fact that the entire centres of the building, all 5 floors, were open so when standing at the bottom you could look through the glass ceiling.

To my great admiration this was actually an art gallery. It was finely executed – once again, this place is made for tourists – souvenir buyers as well as collectors – money is the language. Everything is for sale, and next to each picture or mask on the wall, you have a tag, kindly telling you the price – first in USD then in TZ Shillings... I will stop dwelling on the tourist and money element, I think I made my point.

The place draws you in. At no point did anyone dare to raise their voices, almost on the contrary, we almost whispered.

The first thing I noticed when entering the bottom floor was the paintings on the walls. The style reminded me so much of the classic paintings I have seen in so many museums, featuring a pitcher and a bowl of fruit. Except here the motive was a woman hanging her laundry for drying. The colours were breathtaking, and it had that photograph-ish look from afar. I would trade the pitcher and the fruit for this laundry any day.

The ‘real African’ or the ‘non real African’

While walking around the gallery I of course looked at all the masks and ebony carvings, but what I spend most time focusing on were the paintings and photographs.

At some point I caught myself disregarding a section because ‘it wasn’t really African’. I could have slapped myself – but found that that somehow would have been inappropriate. Though. Who am I - who as you might remember used the intro of this piece to be angry about the ‘simple display of African culture – to disregard a section of paintings because they don’t fulfil my expectation of ‘real African culture’? What a hypocrite!!! The section in question was one of somewhat modern, partly abstract pictures. Why would I disregard these as part of the African culture – why are the people of this continent not allowed to have gone through different phases and inspirations in their artistic development? My immediate answer was, well I could have seen these pictures on a wall in the art gallery in Aalborg. Ok, maybe not quite, but they didn’t distinguish themselves, didn’t bring about the same identity as most of the other sections here.

I let go of these thoughts, and moved further on, and enjoyed the displays. Though still making notes about which areas caught my mind, and more explicitly, which didn’t.

After touring, the rest of the gallery, we made our way outside again, and into the gift shop area...

My answer is...

And here I found my answers (and as a good tourist I bought overpriced gifts, just because they said Kilimanjaro and Tanzania on them... shame on me. But am sure the receivers will be happy!). The book that brought me the answer was one of ‘African decorations’ or something like that. In this particular shelf were found nothing less than three titles (by same author) on ceremonies, dresses and homesteads.

I quickly disregarded the homestead one, it was nice, but didn’t attract me. The ceremonies one irritated me but the one with the different bodily decorations of beads; leather wood etc caught my eye. Somehow I felt it had more authenticity and didn’t try to be something it wasn’t.  And then it struck me. That is the thing about ‘African culture’ - what is so attractive is the part we don’t understand. That was the key for me. Africa will always be mysterious -the colours, the beliefs, the nature, the people and the extremes. If it ever existed it probably existed on this continent – whatever it was or is. I don’t understand it. People on this continent believe things they know cannot take place, because their stories tell them that it happened. Animals take the shape of humans, people fight lions – ok not so much anymore – and in some areas you can literally walk for days without meeting any sign of people.

I love this continent – and I never really figured out why.

But maybe this touristy cultural heritage centre with overpriced coffee and carvings provided the answer.  This continent fascinates me, it keeps me spell bound, and no matter how long I spend here, there will always be something new to experience. Even if it might just be a mountain, or an elephant or whatever, I might have seen it before, but it will always be able to present itself in a new way. I will never gain full understanding of anything here. I might not in Europe either, but somehow that continent lacks the mystery that I find in everything here. Even in the market shopping for fabrics – the chosen occupation of the today.