Amy’s adventures in Ghana

yAs promised, here are some photos of the inside of my lovley new house!!

And our new guard dogs, Ginty the 2nd and Pumba

Monday was officially the end of Ramadan, but most of the people I know fasted for an additional day because the new moon had not been sighted in Tamale. It was seen on Tuesday so that was when the major celebrations for Eid took place. I went along with my "family" to the main prayers in town.  I wore my new dress and borrowed a veil. 

It was an amazing experience.  Literally thousands of people all praying in unison.  Although I’m not a moslem, so didn’t pray, I was made to feel really welcome, everyone was just pleased and amused that a siliminga was there and wearing their traditional clothing.   The sound of so many people chanting their prayers together was actually quite moving and somehow peaceful, as the call to prayer and the prayers themselves have a kind of hypnotic quality.

After the prayers we visited family members and ate lots of food!  Everywhere I went I was greeted so warmly and I really do feel like part of the family.   

Everyone at the office was shocked this morning to learn that Simli’s Lawyer had died suddenly.  He is (was) married to Jafara’s sister and they just had a baby, whose naming ceremony I went to just one week ago. It was completely unexpected.  His baby daughter is just two weeks old now. 

The custom here is to bury the body on the same day as death.  It is amazing how quickly word spreads and by the time we got to the house there were already several car loads of people there. It was so strange as they’d set up the courtyard in exactly the same way as the naming ceremony with canopies and chairs arranged in rows.  I had a very bizarre feeling of de ja vu. 

The first thing you have to do is greet the mourners which was terrible. The wife and parents were totally inconsolable and the wee baby was lying sleeping in the corner. They also have another child, a 3 year old boy, who was wandering around looking confused.  Although I couldn’t really understand what anyone was saying, it was obvious that there was a profound sense of shock.  Everyone was looking at each other as if hoping that someone would admit that it was a joke.  We were sitting in his living room with photos of him and the family all around.

Because he was a Lawyer, he was fairly well off and has a lovely big house in which several of the extended family stay.  I don’t know what will happen to them. 

I have never been to a Muslem funeral before.  There is a marked segregation between men and women. All the women had to stay inside the room and the men were all outside. When they brought out his body, the women were not allowed to enter the room and it was only the men who go to the cemetery to bury him, not even his wife or mother is allowed to go.  Then all the men went to the mosque to pray for him before returning to the house. 

I learn that they believe you should not cry at this pre-burial ceremony as they believe that if a tear touches the ground it will burn the body of the deceased once he is buried.  I was told this after the dead man’s sister, who was wailing terribly, got severely told off by another lady. It was obvious that she was certainly not offering her condolences.  I asked my friend what was going on and learnt she’d be telling her off for crying and saying that she was punishing her brother. 

We were there for about 5 hours.  By the time it ended there must have been about 200 people there.  His colleagues had come from work, they were expecting him in court.  He’d been at work yesterday. 

There will be further ceremonies after 3 days, 7 days and 40 days. 

Today (16th October) was White Cane Day.  I went along to support the activities organised by The Ghana Society for People with Disabilities. I knew they were going to march through town but I was totally unprepared for how far they would march!  It was so hot and I was carrying my laptop so was extremely hot and sweaty by the time we finished, at Veteran’s Square.  I suppose I cant complain since most of the other people on the march were blind or with other disabilities so much harder for them.

It must be so hard being blind in

Ghana

. The roads are a nightmare with random holes all over the place and cows, goats and chickens wandering around. Plus the fact that cars, motorbikes and bicycles pay absolutely no attention to any rules or road markings. 

We were all given white canes to hold.  A cute wee girl attached herself to me and I had my sunglasses on, so lots of people thought I was actually blind, which seemed to cause some confusion – could a white person actually be blind?  In a funny way I wish I could have said I was, so that they could see that white people can be disabled, and somehow I felt like a fraud when they realised I wasn’t blind.  One of the blind people was wearing this weird mask which looked a bit like Michael Jackson but scarier if that’s possible.  At first glance he looked like a white person and I felt a bit uncomfortable, especially when I found myself walking next to him and passers by would look at him with his creepy mask and then me and just stare open-mouthed at the two freaks!

It does get tiring being stared at and shouted at all the time.  Often people will just come up to me and say “white person” (10/10 for observation), “give me money” or just “money” (well, seeing as you asked me so nicely…) It’s very strange.  This afternoon a young girl followed for about 5 minutes holding on to me and asking for 2,000 to buy rice. I have often been asked for my clothes too, I mean do they expect me to strip off there and then and give them my trousers? 

Last night I heard some commotion outside my house so went to have a look to see what was happening.  I immediately saw what the problem was, there was a huge storm cloud approaching and the sky was black on one side.  I was quite excited, I quite enjoy a good storm!  It came closer and closer.  The thunder sounded like some one was smashing plates in my room.  So I was all set for a huge storm and some exciting lightening displays, but it just passed over head really quickly.  I could still hear the thunder but it was a long way off. 

I tried to take some photos of the storm approaching, but again it doesn’t do it justice. 

This is my lovely watchman, Yahaya, who comes everyday between 6pm and 6am.   

It really knows how to rain here.  Just before the rain  starts it suddenly becomes really windy and then goes dark and then it pours down. Usually you have about 5 or 10 minutes warning before it hammers down. Everyone here is scared of the rain, or that’s how they put it. So when the warning signs come, everyone rushes around trying to get everything indoors and close the windows etc before the downpour. 

I was at Sahadatu’s shop the other day and the warning came, I wasn’t sure if I should stay and shelter in the shop or try and make it home before the rain started. It was just getting dark so I decided to try and get home cos I didn’t have my torch.  I have never cycled so fast in my life!  I could see the rain approaching and people kept shouting at me, "the rains coming"!  Anyway, I made it home before the rain luckily. It was really heavy and the thunder cloud must have been right overhead cos the house actually shook when it thundered.  I know kind of understand why people fear the rain, cos apparently the rumbling thunder can cause the local mud houses to collapse. 

I tried to take a photo to capture how hard the rain is, but I don’t think it does it justice.

And here is the family I share my house with.

There was no power in the office yesterday so I took the opportunity to go to Tamale Children’s Home to take them the donated clothes and blankets and to enquire about volunteering.  I think I was expecting it to be really grim - like you see on documentaries about Russian orphanages - but it was surprisingly nice.  It is like a little community, with a school, clinic, day rooms and bedrooms.  It had been painted brightly with murals on the walls and the grounds were nicely kept with lots of trees and a little play ground.  There were about 4 other volunteers there when I visited, from Denmark and Holland.  I am going to try and go one day a week.  They told me that most of the babies are handed in by people who just find them abandoned. The culture of extended family here in Ghana means that usually an unwanted baby would be given to another family member to bring up.  In fact nearly everyone I know has at least one child that was "given" to them.  So to  end up in an orphanage is fairly rare and I guess the situation would have to be desperate to send them there.   There are about 20 newly born babies at the moment.

I have just been to Sahadatu’s shop and was asking her about this business of giving children away, and she told me that she has given one of her sons away to her brother.  Crazy.  She said it is s o the family remain close and the relationships are strong.