I have to admit that we haven't run across too many Ghanaians who are particularly in love with the United States--or at least its government. Not many have had problems with Americans themselves, but when we start asking locals' opinions on the U.S. in general, they don't mince words on what they think of the U.S.'s foreign policy, domestic politics, or economic decisions.
Last night we went out to dinner with two Duke friends and their friend, a young Ghanaian man in his late 20s/early 30s. Somehow we began discussing U.S.'s international aid for Africa--a point that we thought would be a positive check mark for the U.S., but instead turned into tirade by our new friend about how the U.S. was using its money to control the world. I, and most of the rest of us, disagreed vehemently with many of his points, but either way, it's disconcerting to me that the U.S. has assumed the role of some greedy, capitalist demon in the eyes of many of Ghana's educated youth. One of our friend's host mothers casually asked over dinner: "Do you think the U.S. is going to colonize Ghana like it did Iraq?" (no sarcasm, I was told)
Last night Stesha and I met a computer programmer who studied at Princeton about 10 years ago. Despite the fact that he received his education in the U.S., he similarly had harsh words for everything from the U.S.'s health care policy to the U.S.'s decisions of where to import resources.
Even though the average person in the U.S. knows little about Ghana, the young and educated here have been surprisingly fluent in U.S. politics--more so than quite a few young and educated people I know. I'm not necessarily trying to make a point, but it's at least something to think about.
In other news: Stesha's back to good health, and we've gotten back into the thick of our project. We want to do a final component, something tangible to improve some of the problems we've come across, and we're beginning to brainstorm what that might look like.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Cape Coast and back
Last weekend we traveled to the town of Cape Coast with two other Duke students, who are teaching in nearby Tema for the summer. We spent a large part of our time touring two colonial castles that served as hubs for the slave trade until the 1800s. The castles were stunning, but the history was, not surprisingly, dreadfully dark; the tours take visitors to every corner of the castles, including window-less, underground chambers where hundreds of people were held captive--in stark contrast to the airy, spacious governor's quarters that sit atop each of the fortresses. (My background picture is from Cape Coast castle.)
Unfortunately, our visit was cut short when Stesha suddenly fell ill; her diagnosis is still a bit unclear... malaria, or parasites, or a stomach virus, depending on which doctor's diagnosis we choose to believe. While Stesha stayed in bed, recovering, we put our research on hold for a couple days. To kill time, I explored our area a bit more, and made a couple friends along the way. Venturing out around the dirt roads of our "neighborhood" alone, I quickly found that people are much more likely to approach me when I'm by myself. Indeed, it seemed that every 30 steps a new person would come up and ask my name and where I'm from. It's very odd, knowing that I'm a walking spectacle (or freak show, depending on how you look at it) but it's also a nice way to make friends--except in the few instances where they start asking for money...
Today I had a bit of an epiphany in one of our interviews, building upon the words of a Johns Hopkins professor we met recently. She and her family, expats from America, are subletting from one of Stesha's relatives, and so we were invited over for dinner on Tuesday. Coincidentally, Laura, the professor, happens to specialize in reproductive and women's health--one aspect of our project--and in Ghana, she's currently working to tackle the high number of unsafe abortions that occur. Laura said that one of the biggest challenges wasn't that technology wasn't up-to-date, or that professionals in the field were lacking education; she emphasized that the information gap existed between the professionals and the public, and that, especially in Ghana's many rural areas, women were unknowledgable of the facts and dangers of abortion. This gap, she said, is very hard to reconcile.
Florence, the founder of the Eve's Foundation who we interviewed today, paralleled Laura's thoughts almost exactly. With limited resources, she said, it was difficult to get basic health information out to Ghanaian women, many of whom are illiterate or don't speak English, the chosen language for many health documents.
Now that this particular obstacle has caught our attention, we have decided to focus on it a bit more in our research.
Unfortunately, our visit was cut short when Stesha suddenly fell ill; her diagnosis is still a bit unclear... malaria, or parasites, or a stomach virus, depending on which doctor's diagnosis we choose to believe. While Stesha stayed in bed, recovering, we put our research on hold for a couple days. To kill time, I explored our area a bit more, and made a couple friends along the way. Venturing out around the dirt roads of our "neighborhood" alone, I quickly found that people are much more likely to approach me when I'm by myself. Indeed, it seemed that every 30 steps a new person would come up and ask my name and where I'm from. It's very odd, knowing that I'm a walking spectacle (or freak show, depending on how you look at it) but it's also a nice way to make friends--except in the few instances where they start asking for money...
Today I had a bit of an epiphany in one of our interviews, building upon the words of a Johns Hopkins professor we met recently. She and her family, expats from America, are subletting from one of Stesha's relatives, and so we were invited over for dinner on Tuesday. Coincidentally, Laura, the professor, happens to specialize in reproductive and women's health--one aspect of our project--and in Ghana, she's currently working to tackle the high number of unsafe abortions that occur. Laura said that one of the biggest challenges wasn't that technology wasn't up-to-date, or that professionals in the field were lacking education; she emphasized that the information gap existed between the professionals and the public, and that, especially in Ghana's many rural areas, women were unknowledgable of the facts and dangers of abortion. This gap, she said, is very hard to reconcile.
Florence, the founder of the Eve's Foundation who we interviewed today, paralleled Laura's thoughts almost exactly. With limited resources, she said, it was difficult to get basic health information out to Ghanaian women, many of whom are illiterate or don't speak English, the chosen language for many health documents.
Now that this particular obstacle has caught our attention, we have decided to focus on it a bit more in our research.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Out in the field
Bright and early Friday morning, Stesha and I met at the headquarters of one of the NGOs we interviewed earlier in the week, the Ark Foundation. Members of the Ark Foundation were preparing for one of their routine "awareness campaigns," and we had decided to tag along; our motivations were two-fold--we wanted to see the work of NGOs in action, while at the same time giving our efforts to help volunteer.
The Ark Foundation specializes in domestic abuse and sexual assault issues, and so we would be traveling to a marketplace to address women directly. The two of us plus eight other workers piled into a small pick-up truck, and made the two-hour journey to a bustling marketplace in a suburb of Accra. When we finally arrived, I was surprised as we began to drive directly into the gathering of people. Hundreds of Ghanaians, mostly women, were packed shoulder-to-shoulder in the gathering space that spanned farther than my line of vision. Some women sat on the ground straddling food or crafts in large silver bowls, others were working their way quickly through the hot mass of people. Our windows were down as we prepared to drive through the crowd, and the air--thick with flies and immense heat from the late morning sun--pressed in through the opening. Friday, I was told, was a popular market day, and people around me were selling everything from live, tiny crabs, collected in large cages and cooked beef, slowly rotting in the heat, to bright-colored clothing, stacked in neat piles.
As we made our way deeper into the crowd of people, one of the Ark workers in the front began speaking Twi (a local language) in a microphone, which broadcast his speech into speakers atop the truck. Our entrance was already gathering attention, but this racket ensured that everyone, the hundreds (if not thousands) of sweating, focused buyers and sellers, turned their attention toward us.
Eventually we found a stopping place, and we decided to centralize our efforts there. One speaker, whose role rotated among the workers, continued to speak to the crowds about domestic abuse and sexual assault, educating them on their rights and how they could seek help if they found themselves to be a victim. Meanwhile (and this would become the job of Stesha and me) others dispersed within the crowd, passing out pamphlets and putting up posters where people would allow us to. The techniques were very bold, in-your-face, and they did a remarkable job of catching people's attention.
Although the sights, sounds (and even smells) of the day were all very memorable, the most interesting experience was seeing people's response to the campaign itself. The first incident occurred before we even arrived to the market, when we had stopped at a gas station. A man, an attendant at the station, approached the car because of the domestic abuse posters that were plastered around the car. He immediately began arguing with one of the women, disputing the pro-rights messages on the posters. They fought verbally, and he eventually backed off.
Once in the market, we again found occasional resistance, sometimes very aggressive. One woman approached a posters that we had posted, which stated that marital rape was illegal and could be prosecuted. The woman read the poster for a moment, then burst into laughter. She called over her friends, jeering at the concept. The other worker who accompanied us, turned around and gave us a look that said: Just ignore her. This happens a lot.
As the representative from the Department of Women told us, quite matter-of-factly, many Ghanaians are taught from childhood that the rights of women are inherently subordinate to the men in their lives. The country is definitely making strides, and in fact, recently passed a reformed domestic abuse law. But as some of our experiences Friday showed, the more traditional beliefs explicated by the Dept. of Women rep are held strongly by a number of individuals--even in the case of violent issues, such as domestic abuse of sexual assault.
The Ark Foundation specializes in domestic abuse and sexual assault issues, and so we would be traveling to a marketplace to address women directly. The two of us plus eight other workers piled into a small pick-up truck, and made the two-hour journey to a bustling marketplace in a suburb of Accra. When we finally arrived, I was surprised as we began to drive directly into the gathering of people. Hundreds of Ghanaians, mostly women, were packed shoulder-to-shoulder in the gathering space that spanned farther than my line of vision. Some women sat on the ground straddling food or crafts in large silver bowls, others were working their way quickly through the hot mass of people. Our windows were down as we prepared to drive through the crowd, and the air--thick with flies and immense heat from the late morning sun--pressed in through the opening. Friday, I was told, was a popular market day, and people around me were selling everything from live, tiny crabs, collected in large cages and cooked beef, slowly rotting in the heat, to bright-colored clothing, stacked in neat piles.
As we made our way deeper into the crowd of people, one of the Ark workers in the front began speaking Twi (a local language) in a microphone, which broadcast his speech into speakers atop the truck. Our entrance was already gathering attention, but this racket ensured that everyone, the hundreds (if not thousands) of sweating, focused buyers and sellers, turned their attention toward us.
Eventually we found a stopping place, and we decided to centralize our efforts there. One speaker, whose role rotated among the workers, continued to speak to the crowds about domestic abuse and sexual assault, educating them on their rights and how they could seek help if they found themselves to be a victim. Meanwhile (and this would become the job of Stesha and me) others dispersed within the crowd, passing out pamphlets and putting up posters where people would allow us to. The techniques were very bold, in-your-face, and they did a remarkable job of catching people's attention.
Although the sights, sounds (and even smells) of the day were all very memorable, the most interesting experience was seeing people's response to the campaign itself. The first incident occurred before we even arrived to the market, when we had stopped at a gas station. A man, an attendant at the station, approached the car because of the domestic abuse posters that were plastered around the car. He immediately began arguing with one of the women, disputing the pro-rights messages on the posters. They fought verbally, and he eventually backed off.
Once in the market, we again found occasional resistance, sometimes very aggressive. One woman approached a posters that we had posted, which stated that marital rape was illegal and could be prosecuted. The woman read the poster for a moment, then burst into laughter. She called over her friends, jeering at the concept. The other worker who accompanied us, turned around and gave us a look that said: Just ignore her. This happens a lot.
As the representative from the Department of Women told us, quite matter-of-factly, many Ghanaians are taught from childhood that the rights of women are inherently subordinate to the men in their lives. The country is definitely making strides, and in fact, recently passed a reformed domestic abuse law. But as some of our experiences Friday showed, the more traditional beliefs explicated by the Dept. of Women rep are held strongly by a number of individuals--even in the case of violent issues, such as domestic abuse of sexual assault.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Ghanaian time
I had hardly made it out of the airport when I learned my first Ghanaian word, "obruni." Let me preface by explaining that there isn't one uniform language in Ghana--there are many tribal languages, and they are spoken according to what region you live in. Obruni, however, is a bit of a universal term, and it essentially translates to "white person." On our first day here, Stesha and I walked around our area, exploring the dirt roads and vacant lots and meandering up through the countryside. The area is a residential area so all the roads and lots are filled with people, selling clothes or food or just hanging out. In general, every lot we passed, I was met by a pack of eyes that followed me as I walked past. This was easy enough to ignore (or even expect, since I'm the only white person around), but it's a bit... louder whenever I run into a group of children. Without fail, children always squeal and giggle when I walk by, usually pointing, and nearly always yelling, "Obruni!" Sometimes, when there are a group of children, they'll yell out a chorus of: "Obruni! Obruni! Obruni!"
Monday we began our project by setting up shop in a little office area at the University of Ghana, just a temporary working place while we set up interviews and research appointments. We secured a couple interviews, and had our first two today and yesterday. On our very first interview, we experienced a great example of what Stesha has begun to affectionately term, "Ghanaian time."
Yesterday morning we met with a representative from the Ministry of Women and Children's affairs. The interview was going really well when the representative abruptly asked if she could step out for a moment to speak with her boss about an unrelated matter. She said it would only take a moment. She didn't return for almost 30 minutes, and Stesha and I were about to get up and leave when she returned, and sat down to continue the interview where we left off. It's nothing that we can't work around, but it's a matter of general habit that has taken some getting used to. For example, if someone says they'll pick us up in "30 minutes," that might turn into 2 or 3 hours. It makes setting appointments occasionally difficult, but at least it gives us leeway if we're running late to a meeting.
Monday we began our project by setting up shop in a little office area at the University of Ghana, just a temporary working place while we set up interviews and research appointments. We secured a couple interviews, and had our first two today and yesterday. On our very first interview, we experienced a great example of what Stesha has begun to affectionately term, "Ghanaian time."
Yesterday morning we met with a representative from the Ministry of Women and Children's affairs. The interview was going really well when the representative abruptly asked if she could step out for a moment to speak with her boss about an unrelated matter. She said it would only take a moment. She didn't return for almost 30 minutes, and Stesha and I were about to get up and leave when she returned, and sat down to continue the interview where we left off. It's nothing that we can't work around, but it's a matter of general habit that has taken some getting used to. For example, if someone says they'll pick us up in "30 minutes," that might turn into 2 or 3 hours. It makes setting appointments occasionally difficult, but at least it gives us leeway if we're running late to a meeting.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
"Everyone in my family got malaria"
Despite two almost-missed flights, I've made it to Ghana and the trip was actually very smooth. Although I used to hate airports, they're growing on me. I had a 6-hour layover in London (plus an additional 2 hours for delays), but the international terminal was rather entertaining. There's no better place to people-watch; it's like a mini-global crossroads, hundreds of people running around, speaking dozens of languages, hopping on flights to all over the world.
On my flight to Ghana I met a friendly Canadian (but a Yankees' fan, he added), who travels home every 3 years to visit family. On my transatlantic flight, I sat next to an older Polish-American woman who was flying from Providence, RI, to visit friends in London, and then travel to Poland. Incidentally, the woman, an engineer and former professor, took an academic sojourn to Nigeria for several months when she was younger ("I wanted to do something to save the world," she told me), so we talked a bit about Africa. Although I'm sure she meant well, all her stories were filled with harrowing tales of disease and hardship. First, she told me about the piles of fly-encrusted rotting meat that were laid out on campus everyday for people to buy. Next, she told me about the third-degree sunburn she received after standing outside for less than four hours, and finally, she told me about how everyone in her family got malaria while they were there. When her 5-year-old son became ill, they decided to ship back to Poland.
But, I asked positively, that was 25 years ago. I'm sure things are better now.
"Oh, I doubt it. Actually, I bet things are worse."
Oh, well, uhm, thanks.
Luckily, my time in Ghana has been devoid of malaria, sunburn, and rotting meat (at least so far). In fact, my living conditions are quite nice, considering the circumstances, and as Stesha and I have recovered from jet lag, we've had a relatively relaxing time. Part of the reason Stesha and I chose to do our project in Ghana is because she has connections here (Stesha's first generation Ghanaian-American), and so we're living with several of her family members: her aunt Ellen, her 8-year-old niece DiDi, and her uncle Earnest. They're impossibly friendly, and we've had a great time spending time with them.
Our project starts Monday, so more on that soon.
On my flight to Ghana I met a friendly Canadian (but a Yankees' fan, he added), who travels home every 3 years to visit family. On my transatlantic flight, I sat next to an older Polish-American woman who was flying from Providence, RI, to visit friends in London, and then travel to Poland. Incidentally, the woman, an engineer and former professor, took an academic sojourn to Nigeria for several months when she was younger ("I wanted to do something to save the world," she told me), so we talked a bit about Africa. Although I'm sure she meant well, all her stories were filled with harrowing tales of disease and hardship. First, she told me about the piles of fly-encrusted rotting meat that were laid out on campus everyday for people to buy. Next, she told me about the third-degree sunburn she received after standing outside for less than four hours, and finally, she told me about how everyone in her family got malaria while they were there. When her 5-year-old son became ill, they decided to ship back to Poland.
But, I asked positively, that was 25 years ago. I'm sure things are better now.
"Oh, I doubt it. Actually, I bet things are worse."
Oh, well, uhm, thanks.
Luckily, my time in Ghana has been devoid of malaria, sunburn, and rotting meat (at least so far). In fact, my living conditions are quite nice, considering the circumstances, and as Stesha and I have recovered from jet lag, we've had a relatively relaxing time. Part of the reason Stesha and I chose to do our project in Ghana is because she has connections here (Stesha's first generation Ghanaian-American), and so we're living with several of her family members: her aunt Ellen, her 8-year-old niece DiDi, and her uncle Earnest. They're impossibly friendly, and we've had a great time spending time with them.
Our project starts Monday, so more on that soon.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
From Durham to Accra
I think this is the point where I'm supposed to realize that in the next 24 hours I'll be whizzing across two foreign continents and arriving in Africa for the first time. But it sure doesn't feel like it. As I'm sitting in my apartment in Durham, throwing my last few things into my suitcase, it feels more like I'm about to head home for the weekend or take a quick trip across the state.
As a bit of background, Stesha and I spent our previous summers in Thailand and Haiti working with reproductive health and women's health, respectively, and after discussing project ideas, we decided to take a broader human rights approach to the issue, through the study of gender inequality. This summer, our project will be in Accra, Ghana's capital and largest city, and is sponsored by Duke's Center for International Studies and the Benjamin N. Duke Scholars Program.
Both of us are heading out from North Carolina today, and expect to stay in Ghana until late July. Since the issue of "gender inequality" has quite a wide scope, our work will begin with the more tangible task of interviewing NGO workers throughout the capital. In this way, we're taking a public policy approach, primarily asking the question, 'How can the efficiency of service provision be improved?' Although our goal is community and network building, we're going to wait to see where our research takes us, and hope to end our project with some tangible proposals. A couple current ideas are a brochure of NGOs' varying services and a "women's fair" to publicize women's service provision in the capital.
I hope to use this blog as both a reflection and as a forum for discussing the kind of research we're doing in Accra and the stories and people we run across in our travels. If you have any thoughts, I would love to hear them; feel free to comment on the posts themselves or e-mail me at adam.eaglin@duke.edu.
As a bit of background, Stesha and I spent our previous summers in Thailand and Haiti working with reproductive health and women's health, respectively, and after discussing project ideas, we decided to take a broader human rights approach to the issue, through the study of gender inequality. This summer, our project will be in Accra, Ghana's capital and largest city, and is sponsored by Duke's Center for International Studies and the Benjamin N. Duke Scholars Program.
Both of us are heading out from North Carolina today, and expect to stay in Ghana until late July. Since the issue of "gender inequality" has quite a wide scope, our work will begin with the more tangible task of interviewing NGO workers throughout the capital. In this way, we're taking a public policy approach, primarily asking the question, 'How can the efficiency of service provision be improved?' Although our goal is community and network building, we're going to wait to see where our research takes us, and hope to end our project with some tangible proposals. A couple current ideas are a brochure of NGOs' varying services and a "women's fair" to publicize women's service provision in the capital.
I hope to use this blog as both a reflection and as a forum for discussing the kind of research we're doing in Accra and the stories and people we run across in our travels. If you have any thoughts, I would love to hear them; feel free to comment on the posts themselves or e-mail me at adam.eaglin@duke.edu.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)