This is Africa

Sometimes the ignorance of people astounds me.

A few weeks ago I was chatting to a woman who was in Ghana visiting her son, who was volunteering at a hospital. After the usual chit chat, she started telling me about her son’s host family in Labadi (an affluent area of Accra) and seemed horrified that her son didn’t have running water or wi-fi access. I could only sit there in incredulity as she rattled off one complaint after another, mainly about the lack of amenities and the standard of living her son had been forced to endure. I managed to bite my tongue and simply pointed out that perhaps one was expecting too much from life in a developing country. She wasn’t exactly impressed.

Another woman I talked to couldn’t understand why expecting hot running water at an environmentally friendly resort (Green Turtle) was perhaps a little too much to ask for.

During my many visits to Ghana I’ve spent a significant amount of time at Green Turtle Lodge, a beautiful eco-lodge in the Western Region, against the backdrop of what is arguably the most stunning beach in the country. It’s a wonderful place to spend a few days relaxing, and the open air showers (yes, with running water, albeit cold, but who needs a hot shower in 30 degree heat?), delectable food, friendly staff and amazing value for money make it a no brainer.

Sadly some people turn up expecting the Ritz.

One person I know spends most of their time lecturing others on embracing Ghanaian life, yet refuses to travel as the locals do, shuns traditional food and happily tells anyone who will listen how much they know about Ghanaian culture and believes, most of which, is simply untrue. However, I’ve learned it’s better to simply nod along in agreement than make any attempt to challenge. Sometimes it’s better to allow people to bask in their own ignorance.

Perhaps it’s just me, but I have no problem buying food from the street (who can argue with a meal for under £1.50?), eating local fruits, showering from a bucket, using pit toilets (anyone who has been to a music festival will have been in much worse!) and travelling as the local’s do, even though I fear for my life on a weekly basis. Local means of transport is a kind of mini bus (a tro tro), packed with people and the occasional animal, with a goal to reach its destination as quickly as possible. Hawkers line the streets at every stop willing you to buy anything from water and popcorn to shirts, trousers and school books. Given the state of the roads in Ghana, you can imagine the hairy and sometimes terrifying journeys one has to endure on a sometimes daily basis. But at the same time, there’s something fun about getting crammed into a tro tro with friendly Ghanaians and buying food as you trundle to your final destination, praying the tro tro won’t break down before you arrive.

Ghana is a wonderful country with amazingly warm, genuine, friendly people. The beautiful unspoiled beaches, crumbling castles and colonial slave forts combined with a fascinating culture that embraces both modern and traditional has been praised by travellers and the media alike. The country’s microcosmic travel circuit has been described as the perfect African primer.

I have found it humbling to teach children who take delight in receiving a new pencil, and who could happily spend hours playing with a balloon. One quickly realises the Western obsession with money and our inability to slow down and say hello to our neighbours, or the people we pass on the street, is quite simply, a little shameful.

Of course it’s not without its faults. Where is? It doesn’t take long to realise that wearing a watch is a waste of time; everyone will want to be your friend, to the point that it can take longer than necessary to walk anywhere, infrastructure is severely insufficient and it’s always hot and sticky. Of course that’s fine when you can spend all day at the beach, but working in it can be a real bitch.

But I love Ghana. Plain and simple.

Perhaps if people were more willing to look past what they don’t like, they’d see Ghana offers an experience like no other.

Just don’t expect anyone to turn up on time. After all, you’re in Africa. What’s the hurry?

Surfing, Weddings and some Serious stuff....

Surfing is not something I’d ever associated with Ghana. For me, surfing conjured images of rugged shirtless Australian men with bleached blonde hair, running into the ocean against a backdrop of white sand and ogled by beautiful people in tiny bikinis. Yes, I admit I am a Home and Away fan, which is perhaps my excuse for such a distorted image. I found out, perhaps surprisingly, that Ghana has a pretty big surf culture. The country is blessed with some gorgeous beaches perfect for surfing, although undeniably the surf is more suited to beginners.

This past weekend I had my first ever lesson, and I am now a convert. I loved it, despite the somewhat lacklustre instructor who made it pretty obvious he couldn’t be bothered to waste him time working with someone who’d never even held a surfboard until seconds before the lesson. Even so – according to my Aussi friend and fellow journalist – I did manage to stand up on the board. And even though I don’t remember it she assures me it happened. And that’s good enough for me! I have to admit I didn’t realise how much hard work it was! Watching for the waves, jumping on the board, paddling (hard and fast!), going up on to your knees – all of this before attempting to stand – and in less than a minute. It’s something I definitely want to try again, and soon!

Life in Cape Coast continues to fly by. I am getting used to the relaxed place, and no longer feel guilty spending afternoons by the beach. My editor continues to be a frustration though. I believe he has the best intentions but he has so many commitments which usually means the paper is not exactly a priority. It’s the only newspaper based in the Central Region and has the potential to be a success but poor organisation and management mean right now it’s not being adequately received.

I went to the boy’s sister’s wedding which was lovely. It was very similar to a Western style Christian wedding, with a church service (although in true Ghana style is was nearly 90 minutes long!) singing and traditional vows. I did love that when the bride and groom said their ‘I do’s,’ the whole congregation cheered and clapped and when it was announced the groom could kiss the bride, everyone oooohed and ahhhed.

A friend of mine who I worked with in Accra is now working in Ghana’s Volta region to try and stop the trafficking of children. It is estimated that around 2,000 children are trafficked each year to work in fishing boats, where children as young as 4 are forced to do dangerous work. Children are sold into this captivity by their families. Their excuses are often justified by poverty and although a small few believe that their children will enjoy a better standard of living, care and an education if taken by someone else, this is seldom the case. Sadly, many communities across Ghana find trafficking socially acceptable and even commonly encourage it. There is an ignorance to the rights of the child and the real dangers of trafficking which urgently needs to be addressed.

Please go to the following for more information: 

http://www.facebook.com/#!/ProjectsAbroadCampaignAgainstChildTraffickingGhana

Sorry this post has been a bit scrambled, such is the state of my mind at the moment!

Refugee Camp

For safety reason I’m not going to mention the name of the camp or where it is, I don’t think you can ever be too careful : ) as recent experience has taught me!

Visiting the camp was a bit of juxtaposition of feelings; on one hand it was extremely insightful to get a rare glimpse into the plight of a refugee but it was devastating to see first-hand human beings living with no sense of basic human freedoms.

The Camp Director, although happy to talk to us, painted a picture of a happy secure place where issues are quickly resolved. Maybe it’s cynicism on my part, but it was difficult to believe. He was guarded with the information he gave us, although our questions were answered with a smile, albeit unspecific answers.

However, our tour of the camp did change some of my initial misgivings. Unlike the majority of refugee camps I’ve read about, seen on the television etc. this camp was spacious (as much as rows of UNHCR tents can be) and the facilities seemed adequate. We were given a tour of the new toilets, the school and the medical clinic. Teaches are residents who have previously taught in their home country and are given an ‘allowance,’ for their work. The children are obviously taught in their mother tongue, but surprisingly are not given any lessons in the local languages of the country they are seeking asylum in. As the camp aims to become a permanent home (with proper housing) for many of the residents I found this a little surprising. Despite having no means of earning money or limited chances of leaving the camp, we did see a few small stores (selling food, clothing etc.). When questioned as to where the supplies come from, our guide just laughed and shrugged, explaining that sometimes things just get smuggled in.

Despite the shiny exterior and positivity of those we talked too, it is somewhat frightening to see people so deprived of their freedom – a basic human right. Residents are not allowed to leave the camp unless they have prior permission, and even then have to explain where they are going (although clearly this is easy to manipulate). Our guide told us he had no idea what had happened to his family and he did not ever want to go home. He openly talked with us and told us he wanted to urge people to learn from the situation in his home country and to strive for safe elections.

The residents are forbidden from expressing any political preferences and there are no religious services of any kind. Presumably this is to stop fighting between what is a large group of people from dozens of different ethnic and tribal groups.

It was definitely a sobering experience and one which I think others need to see, if only to draw more attention to what is a devastating way to live.

Happy New Year!

Hello from Cape Coast! I have been here nearly a week and although I am enjoying the more relaxed way of life here (my editor doesn’t really run a tight ship) I miss Accra and the people there. I have a lovely little room here though, and it’s pretty much in the centre of town which is convenient. The past few weeks have been a little surreal and not exactly a fun time for me, but I’m hoping the New Year can only bring good things.

I spent the New Year weekend at a gorgeous beach lodge in Elmina, a coastal town around 3 hours from Accra. I was there with some lovely ladies and spent two days relaxing on a beautiful beach, swimming in a near-by hotel pool, drinking cocktails and eating some yummy food. I don’t think fellow guests will ever forget our incredible (I’m sure it was) rendition of Aerosmith’s I don’t Want to Miss a Thing at around 3 am (thanks Jemma, Line, Eline, Milena, Chrisi, Emily, Sasha, Tae).

 A few on us decided to go horse-riding on the beach which was a lot of fun, although not exactly comfortable in shorts and flip-flops! However we got to canter along the shore (or run, as our guide loved to say) and ride along what is perhaps one of the most breathtakingly beautiful beaches in world.

Unfortunately my last few weeks at The Graphic were pretty quiet. Apparently media events don’t really happen in January, so I had a lot of free time to write my own stories and find ‘exclusives,’ no easy feat when you have a severe lack of contacts. I was sad to leave though; I’ve made some lovely friends there and had some amazing opportunities which I am extremely grateful for. Hearing Leymah Gbowee speak was a definite highlight.  I don’t think I will forgot some of more ‘colourful’ conversations I’ve had with fellow journalists, including one debate about ‘Gaddafi the Hero,’ and the many In depth discussions about religion and the role of women in a marriage (which I don’t want to get into here, I fear I will get into a lot of trouble!).

I do not understand men and seem to be in a permanent stare of confusion when it comes to such affairs. Any attempt to discuss issues that seem to be happening time and time again are rebuffed because if it’s in the past what is the point in talking about it? Some wisdom would be good please! Sometimes I just think it’s too much of an effort, and sadly I don’t think that should be the case.

To all the victims of the tragic accident in Senya Beraku on 27-12-10, may you rest in peace.

A Wedding and Christmas

It’s been another lovely sunny Christmas in Ghana with overlong church services, a wedding, fu-fu and excited children who, despite being Muslim, couldn’t contain their excitement at opening their little gifts come Sunday morning. Unfortunately, the one person I really wanted to spend the day with decided it was more important to purchase a phone battery (seemingly it’s impossible to last half a day without a phone), leaving me to me own devices on what I consider a pretty special day to be spend with loved ones. I was a tad insulted to say the least, and now I have a lot of things to consider. Sometimes it just feels like too much of an effort. 

Despite a little homesickness and my longing for a little respite from the stifling heat, I had a pretty nice relaxed day. My wonderful friend Christy made me some fu-fu with fish and light soup (she is an amazing cook) and I spent a happy few hours being thoroughly entertained by her two gorgeous daughters, Maame (Emmanuella, 6) and Nana (Kirsty, 2 ½). It appears a bottle of bubbles and a colouring book is all it takes to put a smile on a child’s face. Maame took her colouring very seriously; continuously asking me what colour she should use on every part of the picture. Nana thought it was a brilliant game to catch the bubbles and spent a good many minutes laughing hysterically when they burst on her arms. It definitely brought a smile to my face. After, I went to my other friend Charity’s (Cha-Cha)’s house for a mineral (i.e. a bottle of soft drink) and some blasting Ghanaian highlife which was extremely fun, there’s nothing like dancing with a group of tremendously happy Ghanaians encouraging you to ‘shake your body.’ 

The wedding on Christmas Eve was lovely, despite me missing most of the ceremony. Cha Cha was supposed to pick me up before hand, but as it pretty normal in Ghana, arrived for me just as the Church service was over. However, I did catch a glimpse of the Bride (Cha Cha’s sister) and Groom as they left the Church dressed in traditional wedding ware. After there was the speeches (unfortunately not in English!), food, drinks and dancing. The wedding cake was better than any I’ve ever had (not a fruit cake which is really all is takes for me) although I found amusing that the little people on top of the cake were white. 

Anyways, back at work for my last few weeks at The Daily Graphic. I really don’t want to leave. I finally feel settled and would love to stay a little longer. Although now I’m re-evaluating my time in Ghana, perhaps it’s time to move on and try someplace else.

Hissing in Ghana

If you want someone’s attention in Ghana you hiss at them, or make a puckering noise with your mouth. I was pretty appalled the first time I heard someone do it on my first visit to Ghana around four years ago; to my Western mind it was the epitome of rudeness! If you require the attention of a waitress, hawker, etc, it is expected that you will hiss to get their attention or if in a tro-tro (mini bus) a call of whatever you are after (be it pure water, biscuits, a handkerchief, an egg, maybe a t-shirt – you can literally buy anything you wish whilst travelling in a car or waiting for it to fill up as is usually the case!) usually works or shouting ‘small boy, small girl,’ or whatever is appropriate before they come running.

I think I’ve done a pretty good job of embracing Ghanaian culture. I’ve made an idiot of myself dancing in Church, ate fu-fu with my hands, bargained for goods at the markets and now expect to click my fingers every time I shake someone’s hand. I travel by tro-tro and now turn up to meetings, press conferences around an hour late, safe in the knowledge I won’t miss anything important! But hissing is one thing I just can’t bring myself to do. The silly thing is, I know it’s won’t cause any offence and its part of life here, but I can’t stop a small part of my brain telling me it’s wrong. Maybe it’s my years spent working in customer service, where I was regularly yelled at or referred to as ‘hey you come here,’ that makes me refrain from doing anything that I myself would never respond too.

On a completely different note, things are going pretty well here at the Daily Graphic. The editor congratulated me today on all the features I have had published (7 so far!) and my work as a news reporter. Big happy face! As much as some of the office politics frustrate me to the brink of tears and I often feel like I’m talking to a brick wall when ‘discussing’ certain issues with other journalists (some of their justifications just make no sense and attempts to reason fall flat) I am going to be sad when I have to leave. I think I’ve been pretty lucky to have the experience and opportunities I’ve been given and on the whole it’s been a pretty fantastic few months working here.

Currently listening to Christmas carols on the radio and Oprah on the television as I type a story about inflation rates (definitely not my most interesting assignment)!

Prayer Camps (Feature)

Published last week :)


THE provision of services for people suffering from mental illness in Ghana are extremely insufficient. The World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates that 10 per cent of Ghanaians suffer from a form of mental health problem, from depression to more severe illnesses such as schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s.
According to WHO, the number of  practicing psychiatrists in the country are inadequate  to meet patients demand. The stigma attached to mental illness also prevents victims from seeking the help of medical practitioners.
This leads patients and/or their familes to turn to Church-run camps, known as Prayer Camps.
Many Ghanaians believe mental illness is the result of evil spirits attacking the individual, thereby putting them in grave danger. People willingly take loved ones to the camps with the belief that religion is the only way to ‘cure’ them. The camps are private facilities run by so called prophets and spiritual healers.
A visit to Macedonia Prayer Camp, Accra, raised serious questions about the credibility of prayer camps for the mentally ill and disabled. The Prophet was unable to give the exact number of patients and referred to them as being ‘mad,’ or ‘spiritual.’ He repeatedly dodged questions about treatment, only emphasising that a lot of praying takes place. It appears that the treatment is the same regardless of the illness and no medicine is provided.
Is it estimated by Human Rights Watch (HRW) that there are over 70 of these types of camps in Ghana. People give various reasons for attending prayer camps,  notable among them is the  lack of access to psychiatric care, financial difficulty, social stigmatisation and ignorance of the fact that mental illness is a medical condition requiring medical attention. The stigma attached to mental illness is often transferred to the whole family causing some victims  to be rejected by their families or forced into prayer camps to prevent the family from being associated with the sickness.
 I’ve read news articles describing people suffering from a mental illness as being, ‘deranged,’ ‘crazy,’ ‘unstable,’ and ‘a danger to society.’ I understand that the resources and funding available for the mentally- ill in Ghana cannot be the same as in developed nations. Nonetheless, it is disturbing to hear highly educated Ghanaians refuse to believe that diseases such as depression exist and can be controlled without Western medication and psychiatric care.
There have been reports of inhumane treatment in the camps, ranging from beatings, starvation, verbal abuse and forced ingestion of ‘concoctions’ intended to heal the patients. It has been alleged that patients have been chained to trees and left outside in the blazing sun and/or heavy rainfall and subjected to prolonged forced isolation. Alarmingly, some patients have been physically abused and tortured under the guise of exorcising them of the evil spirits that they believe, or have been told, caused their illness.
A major reason often assigned to the unjust treatment is that some mental patients have the tendency to behave violently; hence to prevent them from causing harm to others .It is therefore considered safe to chain or put them in solitary confinement.
It is also argued that without forcible confinement some of the mentally handicapped could escape from the camps and get missing. Although it is  rational  it is also absurd to claim that chaining a patient  is in his/her best interests and one can only question the true intent of the camps. The Prophet of Macedonia camp admitted he takes GH¢ 20 initial fee from all patients but I am skeptical that this is the only payment required.
As someone who grew up in a Western society, it is very difficult for me to comprehend the reasoning behind these camps when it concerns individuals suffering from a mental illness. The treatment received by many is an encroachment on human rights and it is incredulous that such camps continue to exist.
A lack of education and understanding about mental illness is an issue that needs to be looked at. I do not believe that families willingly subject their loves ones to such abuse, rather they have been instilled with cultural believes that are so deep rooted they can only believe they are doing the right thing. I hope that it is not long before adequate facilities and resources become available for the care and treatment of those suffering from mental illness.
During a visit to The Twelve Apostles Prayer Camp, Accra, the Prophet showed slightly more understanding of his limitations to heal and admitted  that the use of Western Medicine was necessary in some patients’ case. Fortunately his belief in causation did not ultimately prevent him from recommending treatment at a hospital. His treatment includes several types of herbal remedies, given to patients over a period of three days.
Unfortunately, hospital treatment is significantly delayed for both the physically and mentally ill.  If a person suffering does not respond to treatment within five days, the prophet will advise them to go to the hospital.  In the case of a stroke or diabetes, this delay in treatment can likely be detrimental and even life threatening.  Furthermore, it is unlikely that these herbs can cure patients of these serious illnesses.
The transition of prayer camps to mental institutions has sadly taken away the real meaning behind the camps. Research by the  American Psychiatric Association indicates that being made to feel as part of the church community can often help people suffering from depression and that religion and spirituality can be beneficial to people recovering from severe trauma. In those instances, I believe prayer camps are a wonderful way for people to heal and although they can’t replace medical treatment, I do think they offer support at a time when many people need it  most.
The Government is working with the WHO to develop a comprehensive Mental Health Bill which protects the rights of people with mental disorders and promotes mental health care in the community in accordance with international human rights standards. One can only hope this positive step will help create proper care for those with mental illness and help towards destroying the myth that Prayer Camps are a place to cure mental illness.
The Commission for Human Rights and Administrative Justice (CHRAJ) and the Commonwealth Human right Initiative (CHRI) has on several occasions indicated that serious human right violations have been occurring in many of the prayer camps and traditional shrines in the country.