Sean's Blog
Monday, September 26, 2005
Accra, Ghana
The magnetism of Nigeria is fierce. The more we try to avoid this country, infamous for its corruption, sectarian strife, violent crime, highway robberies and car-jackings, the more we are pulled towards it. For months, we planned to take a long roundabout route to avoid Nigeria, traveling instead up through Benin, through famine plagued Niger and then driving across southern Chad on a seldom used route across the desert where convoys are recommended due to banditry. A few weeks ago, a number of people familiar with the route said that the road was in a deplorable state and that our car would never make it. This left us with the one option that we were desperately trying to avoid: northern Nigeria, one of the only places in the world where among other things Sharia law is practiced. (Nigeria was recently in the news when a woman was condemned to death by stoning for committing adultery. Even drinking a beer can land you in jail.) Our trip will also coincide with the Islamic holiday of Ramadan, which lasts for a month. What a treat.
Before heading off on this trip, a Nigerian friend in the Gambia said "You will love Nigeria. Of course, they will steal your car and rob you, but they will leave you with enough money to get to the next town." Lonely Planet Guide Book states "There seem to be few places immune to random violence, demonstrations, mishaps and military action. During our research in Nigeria, every city we visited (except Kano and Kaduna) experienced some sort of large scale violence or catastrophic tragedy that led to violence... At the time of our visit, there were two police strikes that brought traffic to a dead halt across the country, an explosion at a Lagos ammunition dump that killed over 1000 people, running gun battles between the Yoruba and the Hausa in Lagos, a police riot in Abuja, violent demonstrations in Jos and Port Harcourt over a CNN report and a military blockade around Katsina... Nigeria may now be a democracy, but it often feels like a war zone." Even getting a visa to enter the country is a difficult and arduous task. They are only issued in the country of the applicant's residence, require a letter of invitation from a Nigerian, and the embassy often demands interviews with the potential applicants.
Despite these warnings and my longstanding fear of Nigeria in general, we sent our passports to an old Peace Corps friend of mine, affectionately referred to as Zum Zum Wurster, who sorted all of our paperwork in Washington, DC. This took a few weeks, delaying our departure from Ghana but now, with everything sorted, we are almost ready to hit the road again. With the route now set in stone, I am becoming more and more excited to see Nigeria. While Nate and Tuuli don't exactly share my zeal, we've all warmed up to the idea and figure that as long as we travel intelligently, we will be all right. With most of the easier countries out of the way, it seems like we are due for a challenge. But first, we have to concentrate on Togo, Benin and Niger (where the international community is claiming 2,500,000 people are at risk of dying because of famine), which we will have to pass through before we reach Nigeria. In a matter of days, all necessary repairs are completed on the Stingray and we will be on the road again.
The magnetism of Nigeria is fierce. The more we try to avoid this country, infamous for its corruption, sectarian strife, violent crime, highway robberies and car-jackings, the more we are pulled towards it. For months, we planned to take a long roundabout route to avoid Nigeria, traveling instead up through Benin, through famine plagued Niger and then driving across southern Chad on a seldom used route across the desert where convoys are recommended due to banditry. A few weeks ago, a number of people familiar with the route said that the road was in a deplorable state and that our car would never make it. This left us with the one option that we were desperately trying to avoid: northern Nigeria, one of the only places in the world where among other things Sharia law is practiced. (Nigeria was recently in the news when a woman was condemned to death by stoning for committing adultery. Even drinking a beer can land you in jail.) Our trip will also coincide with the Islamic holiday of Ramadan, which lasts for a month. What a treat.
Before heading off on this trip, a Nigerian friend in the Gambia said "You will love Nigeria. Of course, they will steal your car and rob you, but they will leave you with enough money to get to the next town." Lonely Planet Guide Book states "There seem to be few places immune to random violence, demonstrations, mishaps and military action. During our research in Nigeria, every city we visited (except Kano and Kaduna) experienced some sort of large scale violence or catastrophic tragedy that led to violence... At the time of our visit, there were two police strikes that brought traffic to a dead halt across the country, an explosion at a Lagos ammunition dump that killed over 1000 people, running gun battles between the Yoruba and the Hausa in Lagos, a police riot in Abuja, violent demonstrations in Jos and Port Harcourt over a CNN report and a military blockade around Katsina... Nigeria may now be a democracy, but it often feels like a war zone." Even getting a visa to enter the country is a difficult and arduous task. They are only issued in the country of the applicant's residence, require a letter of invitation from a Nigerian, and the embassy often demands interviews with the potential applicants.
Despite these warnings and my longstanding fear of Nigeria in general, we sent our passports to an old Peace Corps friend of mine, affectionately referred to as Zum Zum Wurster, who sorted all of our paperwork in Washington, DC. This took a few weeks, delaying our departure from Ghana but now, with everything sorted, we are almost ready to hit the road again. With the route now set in stone, I am becoming more and more excited to see Nigeria. While Nate and Tuuli don't exactly share my zeal, we've all warmed up to the idea and figure that as long as we travel intelligently, we will be all right. With most of the easier countries out of the way, it seems like we are due for a challenge. But first, we have to concentrate on Togo, Benin and Niger (where the international community is claiming 2,500,000 people are at risk of dying because of famine), which we will have to pass through before we reach Nigeria. In a matter of days, all necessary repairs are completed on the Stingray and we will be on the road again.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Ada Foah, Ghana
Stuck in a rut, living out of a tiny bug ridden flophouse smelling of rotten eggs while waiting for the long list of visas necessary to leave Accra, we decided to leave town for a few days and save some money by camping. We headed east to Ada Foah, where the beaches had been highly recommended. While picturesque, the water was swimming with an astonishing number of trash bags and other flotsam, and the currents were no joke. With a calm and tranquil setting to catch up on our writing, we slowly regained our mental health.
After meeting a trio of Americans who informed us about a nearby Yacht Club, it seemed a travesty not to check it out. It wasnt hard to find and, while they wouldnt let us touch any of the catamarans or bigger sailboats because they belonged to high rollers from Accra, they did have a couple of Lasers that they could let us take out for a few dollars. Choosing Nate, who last sailed during his small boy years over a decade ago, as my second mate, I figured we had nothing to fear. I had sailed less than five years ago and, to my best recollection, was a decent seaman. However, remembering squat about properly rigging up a boat, we let others do it for us.
Full of optimism, I guided the Laser into the channel and, immediately caught a strong gust of wind that flipped us both into the water. Climbing onto the keel, we righted the boat, scrambled back in and sailed on, only to once again find ourselves in the water. The boys at the Yacht Club loved it. After a few more times in the drink, I managed to get the hang of it, which meant only occasional flipping. Nate took the helm and, after a few of his own mishaps, got us onto a good line with a starboard wind. He then proceeded to keel a bit too sharply and I ended up sliding off the bow of the boat into the water. Without a life jacket, I was left to tread water for a while as Nate tried to figure out how to tack back and pick me up. He slowly got further and further away. After six oor seven minutes, Nate finally got the boat going in the right direction but before he could pick me up, an errant gust of wind started to tip the Laser and he jumped out. I watched the empty boat sail past me before collapsing ahead of us. After about an hour, we both regained some of the skills that had been lost over the years, before taking the boat back and returning to our tent colony on the beach.
Stuck in a rut, living out of a tiny bug ridden flophouse smelling of rotten eggs while waiting for the long list of visas necessary to leave Accra, we decided to leave town for a few days and save some money by camping. We headed east to Ada Foah, where the beaches had been highly recommended. While picturesque, the water was swimming with an astonishing number of trash bags and other flotsam, and the currents were no joke. With a calm and tranquil setting to catch up on our writing, we slowly regained our mental health.
After meeting a trio of Americans who informed us about a nearby Yacht Club, it seemed a travesty not to check it out. It wasnt hard to find and, while they wouldnt let us touch any of the catamarans or bigger sailboats because they belonged to high rollers from Accra, they did have a couple of Lasers that they could let us take out for a few dollars. Choosing Nate, who last sailed during his small boy years over a decade ago, as my second mate, I figured we had nothing to fear. I had sailed less than five years ago and, to my best recollection, was a decent seaman. However, remembering squat about properly rigging up a boat, we let others do it for us.
Full of optimism, I guided the Laser into the channel and, immediately caught a strong gust of wind that flipped us both into the water. Climbing onto the keel, we righted the boat, scrambled back in and sailed on, only to once again find ourselves in the water. The boys at the Yacht Club loved it. After a few more times in the drink, I managed to get the hang of it, which meant only occasional flipping. Nate took the helm and, after a few of his own mishaps, got us onto a good line with a starboard wind. He then proceeded to keel a bit too sharply and I ended up sliding off the bow of the boat into the water. Without a life jacket, I was left to tread water for a while as Nate tried to figure out how to tack back and pick me up. He slowly got further and further away. After six oor seven minutes, Nate finally got the boat going in the right direction but before he could pick me up, an errant gust of wind started to tip the Laser and he jumped out. I watched the empty boat sail past me before collapsing ahead of us. After about an hour, we both regained some of the skills that had been lost over the years, before taking the boat back and returning to our tent colony on the beach.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
Twifo Praso, Ghana
We pulled into World Visions Twifo Praso office just before two. Nate and I left Accra on the coastal road four hours before, dashing past Cape Coast and Kakum Park in order to save enough time to visit a cluster of HIV/AIDS related projects in the field. World Vision, a faith based development organization, has been operating for eight years in the division. We previously met with the Country Director and his associates in Accra a week before and we were anxious to see their work at the ground level. After being briefed by World Visions Kwame Prempeh and Action for Rural Educations Philip Essel, we were informed about two significant projects in the nearby vicinity that would be worthwhile for us to explore: the Orphans and Vulnerable Children and Caregiver projects.
In a World Vision land cruiser, our first stop was the village of Abodom, where two World Vision Vulnerable Children were sponsored. A fair distance off any main road, the village was relatively small. Except for a handful of cement and corrugate buildings constructed by World Vision, the houses were all mud with grass roofs. Once there, we quickly learned that the term orphan was a bit ambiguous, as a child with one or more parents still living who is identified as vulnerable can also qualify. These children continue to live in their traditional family structure, where much of the work burden shifts to women and the elderly. When we arrived, the village was obviously unprepared for us; they initially thought Nate and I were the sponsors of a new corrugate house that was built for the mother of the orphan we were there to visit.
Philip described the program and said that once a month he would usually visit the 27 children World Vision was supporting. A normal visit would last around 15 minutes and the assistance provided was primarily financial. There was no doubt that the people chosen by World Vision needed the money. There were no adult males in the compound of the orphan we visited, leaving a handful of elderly women with an unmanageable amount of work. However, Kwame and Philip shared some of our concerns about the sustainability of the program.
The entire project was going to be completely phased out of the division in a few years and only recently had they begun to look at capacity building. I was a bit concerned about the recipients of their aid who have become dependant on World Vision's financial support and what a sudden pull-out would mean to them. The orphan we spoke to was also worried and shared this concern. She hoped to study nursing and studied for years with this in mind, but if the expected support was withdrawn, this would be impossible to achieve. Kwame and Philip, recognizing this problem, said that their office was currently trying to find a way to resolve it.
The second site we visited was in many ways more depressing, but ultimately inspiring and very encouraging. We visited Abna Mensah*, an HIV positive woman who was working as a local caregiver for World Vision. She spoke to us about her initial fears of death and the stigma associated with those afflicted by AIDS. Before linking up with World Vision, who now pay for her anti-retrovirals, she was very sick and had little hope that she would live beyond a few months. Now, Abna is healthy again and is optimistic for her future. Abna very candidly shared her worries about revealing her status within the community and the impossibility of her speaking out there. This clashed with her great desire to give people hope by informing them that there are drugs that will dramatically prolong life. She reconciled this by working with World Vision, through which she speaks with people from outside her own community.
We briefly interviewed a second woman from the same village who was also suffering from AIDS. This woman was in the later stages of the disease and had no hope for her future. In a tiny voice, she related how she felt that her case was hopeless; then she broke down into tears. She got up, left the compound and wandered without direction back and forth down the main street. Abna told us that this woman didn't yet believe that people could help her and had given up on life. Yet, they had made progress and felt that they were slowly breaking through and giving her something to live for. Despite my misgivings about the long term sustainability of previous projects that we had seen, as well as my great concern about Abna's future and her ability to pay for the necessary drugs if World Vision pulls out, observing first hand the hope that this project had given Abna and those that she has helped in the capacity of a caregiver is indisputable and must be commended.
*name changed
We pulled into World Visions Twifo Praso office just before two. Nate and I left Accra on the coastal road four hours before, dashing past Cape Coast and Kakum Park in order to save enough time to visit a cluster of HIV/AIDS related projects in the field. World Vision, a faith based development organization, has been operating for eight years in the division. We previously met with the Country Director and his associates in Accra a week before and we were anxious to see their work at the ground level. After being briefed by World Visions Kwame Prempeh and Action for Rural Educations Philip Essel, we were informed about two significant projects in the nearby vicinity that would be worthwhile for us to explore: the Orphans and Vulnerable Children and Caregiver projects.
In a World Vision land cruiser, our first stop was the village of Abodom, where two World Vision Vulnerable Children were sponsored. A fair distance off any main road, the village was relatively small. Except for a handful of cement and corrugate buildings constructed by World Vision, the houses were all mud with grass roofs. Once there, we quickly learned that the term orphan was a bit ambiguous, as a child with one or more parents still living who is identified as vulnerable can also qualify. These children continue to live in their traditional family structure, where much of the work burden shifts to women and the elderly. When we arrived, the village was obviously unprepared for us; they initially thought Nate and I were the sponsors of a new corrugate house that was built for the mother of the orphan we were there to visit.
Philip described the program and said that once a month he would usually visit the 27 children World Vision was supporting. A normal visit would last around 15 minutes and the assistance provided was primarily financial. There was no doubt that the people chosen by World Vision needed the money. There were no adult males in the compound of the orphan we visited, leaving a handful of elderly women with an unmanageable amount of work. However, Kwame and Philip shared some of our concerns about the sustainability of the program.
The entire project was going to be completely phased out of the division in a few years and only recently had they begun to look at capacity building. I was a bit concerned about the recipients of their aid who have become dependant on World Vision's financial support and what a sudden pull-out would mean to them. The orphan we spoke to was also worried and shared this concern. She hoped to study nursing and studied for years with this in mind, but if the expected support was withdrawn, this would be impossible to achieve. Kwame and Philip, recognizing this problem, said that their office was currently trying to find a way to resolve it.
The second site we visited was in many ways more depressing, but ultimately inspiring and very encouraging. We visited Abna Mensah*, an HIV positive woman who was working as a local caregiver for World Vision. She spoke to us about her initial fears of death and the stigma associated with those afflicted by AIDS. Before linking up with World Vision, who now pay for her anti-retrovirals, she was very sick and had little hope that she would live beyond a few months. Now, Abna is healthy again and is optimistic for her future. Abna very candidly shared her worries about revealing her status within the community and the impossibility of her speaking out there. This clashed with her great desire to give people hope by informing them that there are drugs that will dramatically prolong life. She reconciled this by working with World Vision, through which she speaks with people from outside her own community.
We briefly interviewed a second woman from the same village who was also suffering from AIDS. This woman was in the later stages of the disease and had no hope for her future. In a tiny voice, she related how she felt that her case was hopeless; then she broke down into tears. She got up, left the compound and wandered without direction back and forth down the main street. Abna told us that this woman didn't yet believe that people could help her and had given up on life. Yet, they had made progress and felt that they were slowly breaking through and giving her something to live for. Despite my misgivings about the long term sustainability of previous projects that we had seen, as well as my great concern about Abna's future and her ability to pay for the necessary drugs if World Vision pulls out, observing first hand the hope that this project had given Abna and those that she has helped in the capacity of a caregiver is indisputable and must be commended.
*name changed
Archives for Sean's Blog:
July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005