every day, i fight an ironic battle between choosing to enjoy the advantages of being a while man in ghana, and accepting the same drawbacks that come with being a regular kweku or amma.
ducking out of the office in mid-morning for some delicious fried yams with pepper sauce, i greet the man and wife who sell them on the street just outside the office. as usual, their adorable three year old son squeals in fear when he sees me, shouting “obruni” and ducking for cover behind his father. as always i laugh, and feign a snarling lunge at the boy, which never fails to send him into delirious fits of pleasure and horror.
the white man is scary! but he's paying attention to me! wheeee!
it's okay when kids call me obruni, and i don't even mind it when adult strangers do it, even though the cute factor goes way down when that cursed word emenates from between the jack o' lantern like teeth of a wizened old market woman. call me an asshole, but it seems downright undignified. nevertheless, i shrug it off.
what happens next, however, is a whole different ball of banku, and some days i can barely contain myself. i have told my luv colleagues repeatedly i don't want to be called obruni. “i have a name, use it!” my smile is friendly enough, but my eyes mean business. a few of them don't get the message. today, one of the more stubborn members of that tribe strolls in and calls me the dreaded “o” word. i look at him and say “why do you always say obruni, obruni...that's for children. you know my name, but every day you call me obruni!”
he appears to be hurt, explaining that it's not negative, i am white man, he is black man. i explain that i know that, but why should we separate eachother based on race? he says, “that is how we do. we separate you because the white man is up here, and we are down here. you are rich, we are poor. you are better.”
i feel mortified.
trying to be treated as an equal is a losing battle. just because i'm rich (compared to him) am i better? he says yes.
“was it hard for you to get a visa?” “no,” i admit.
“you saw how bush was treated on his visit? would people care that much about the president of
ghana?” “no,” i say again.
it's hard to argue that kind of logic, even though i'm living an working beside ghanaians precisely because i don't believe race matters when determining an individual's worth.
but the truth is, i often feel like a hypocrite.
every day, someone insists on carrying something for me, serving me first, and my protests are always futile. case in point: at the post office yesterday, i arrived at 3:45, and quickly waded into the disorganized mess of humanity, intent on picking up a so-called “instant money transfer” from accra. i'd been there twice before, but had to leave because i didn't have the required information once, and because i didn't have all day to wait the second time. after waiting and watching three giggling employees gossip among themselves for half an hour, we were informed the office was closed, and told to come back tomorrow.
uhh, no. no signage and lazy employees = angry brennan.
i start yelling.
yes, yelling.
“it says instant money transfer! we've been waiting half an hour and not one person has been served. i left work early to come, and i want my money now!” they took my slip and disappeared into the back. everyone else was told to come back. five minutes later, an agent taps me on the shoulder, and spirits me around the corner, taking covert glances over her shoulder to make sure none of the angry crowd has noticed. i get my money.
i'm mollified, but somewhat guilty.
i've gotten used to the lax customer service standards here, and have often seen employees sleeping on the job. but if things don't run properly, and i get served because i'm white, am i taking unfair advantage of my status? it doesn't seem unreasonable for operating hours to be posted, for employees to work while a crowd waits, or at least be conscious.
there goes my dream of equality. i guess i'll never be a real ghanaian.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
chapter 17: a shitty situation
a lot of ghana's health problems can be traced to unsanitary bathroom facilities, and the disposal of human waste. public bathrooms are hard to come by at times, and food sellers routinely set up right beside open sewers. yum.
but designating people as couriers of waste stinks, even by ghanaian standards. it's shocking that government would have to step in to end the practise. the following story is courtesy of the ghana news agency:
the court's order followed an agreement reached between mr stanley amarteifio, counsel for ama and nana adjei ampofo, an accra legal practitioner, who instituted an action against the assembly for engaging the services of certain persons as carriers of human waste.
the five-member panel of the court, presided over by ms justice sophia akuffo ordered ama to ensure that the implementation plan, whose preparation should include unit committee members, is publicized. consequently, the court, whose other panel members were mr. justice steve brobbey, mr. justice richard twum aninakwa, mrs. sophia adinyira and mr justice samuel kwadwo asiamah, adjourned the matter to june 3. earlier, mr. amarteifio told the court that under the agreement, ama intends to phase out the practice completely, within the next five years.
in 2006, nana ampofo instituted the action at the supreme court against ama challenging its constitutional right to engage the services of certain people to carry human excreta.
nana ampofo sued the attorney-general (a-g) jointly with the ama, because the a-g is the government's legal officer and therefore as a government entity, the ama is to be represented or defended by the a-g. in his writ, nana ampofo sought a declaration from the supreme court that, the act or practice of ama engaging the services of certain ghanaians to carry faeces or toilet in pans on their heads was an affront to their dignity.
furthermore, he prayed the court to restrain ama to abolish the practice, since, in his view, it was not only cruel and inhuman, but also degrading to the carriers as human beings.
one other relief sought by nana ampofo was for the court to direct ama to abolish the practice, since it was inconsistent with, and contravened article 15 of the 1992 constitution.
article 15 states among others that, "the dignity of all persons shall be inviolable, and that no person shall, whether or not he is arrested restricted or detained, be subjected to torture or other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatments or punishment."
in his writ, counsel averred that as a citizen of ghana who alleges that a provision of the constitution has been breached by the ama, he does not need any special interest, and that it was enough for him as a ghanaian, to bring the action against ama under the constitution counsel averred further that, the public interest considerations required that the practice be immediately abolished, as it constituted, not only a health hazard to the carriers, but also promoted the spread of diseases.
nana ampofo said if ama made bye-laws banning the practice and ensured compliance, house owners would provide more hygienic places of convenience, adding that the assembly could also provide on site disposal systems or hygienic collection, treatment and off-site disposal systems.
he further said that the use of pan latrines ought to be abolished or banned in ghana, a nation aspiring to achieve a middle income status by the year 2015.
nana ampofo said the carriers often referred to as "latrine boys", "do not work out of choice", and that by carrying the pans on their heads, the human excreta, with its attendant stench, at times spilled over and drilled on to their shoulders. in his view, therefore, this practice needed to be abolished.
but designating people as couriers of waste stinks, even by ghanaian standards. it's shocking that government would have to step in to end the practise. the following story is courtesy of the ghana news agency:
plan to phase out carrying of human excreta -sc
accra, feb. 26, gna - the supreme court on tuesday gave the accra metropolitan assembly (ama) three months to come out with a comprehensive plan that will serve as a guide in its desire to phase out the practice, whereby, human excreta is carried by some people in society.the court's order followed an agreement reached between mr stanley amarteifio, counsel for ama and nana adjei ampofo, an accra legal practitioner, who instituted an action against the assembly for engaging the services of certain persons as carriers of human waste.
the five-member panel of the court, presided over by ms justice sophia akuffo ordered ama to ensure that the implementation plan, whose preparation should include unit committee members, is publicized. consequently, the court, whose other panel members were mr. justice steve brobbey, mr. justice richard twum aninakwa, mrs. sophia adinyira and mr justice samuel kwadwo asiamah, adjourned the matter to june 3. earlier, mr. amarteifio told the court that under the agreement, ama intends to phase out the practice completely, within the next five years.
in 2006, nana ampofo instituted the action at the supreme court against ama challenging its constitutional right to engage the services of certain people to carry human excreta.
nana ampofo sued the attorney-general (a-g) jointly with the ama, because the a-g is the government's legal officer and therefore as a government entity, the ama is to be represented or defended by the a-g. in his writ, nana ampofo sought a declaration from the supreme court that, the act or practice of ama engaging the services of certain ghanaians to carry faeces or toilet in pans on their heads was an affront to their dignity.
furthermore, he prayed the court to restrain ama to abolish the practice, since, in his view, it was not only cruel and inhuman, but also degrading to the carriers as human beings.
one other relief sought by nana ampofo was for the court to direct ama to abolish the practice, since it was inconsistent with, and contravened article 15 of the 1992 constitution.
article 15 states among others that, "the dignity of all persons shall be inviolable, and that no person shall, whether or not he is arrested restricted or detained, be subjected to torture or other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatments or punishment."
in his writ, counsel averred that as a citizen of ghana who alleges that a provision of the constitution has been breached by the ama, he does not need any special interest, and that it was enough for him as a ghanaian, to bring the action against ama under the constitution counsel averred further that, the public interest considerations required that the practice be immediately abolished, as it constituted, not only a health hazard to the carriers, but also promoted the spread of diseases.
nana ampofo said if ama made bye-laws banning the practice and ensured compliance, house owners would provide more hygienic places of convenience, adding that the assembly could also provide on site disposal systems or hygienic collection, treatment and off-site disposal systems.
he further said that the use of pan latrines ought to be abolished or banned in ghana, a nation aspiring to achieve a middle income status by the year 2015.
nana ampofo said the carriers often referred to as "latrine boys", "do not work out of choice", and that by carrying the pans on their heads, the human excreta, with its attendant stench, at times spilled over and drilled on to their shoulders. in his view, therefore, this practice needed to be abolished.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
chapter 16: what is wrong with canadians?
i live in a house of ghanaians. it's a house of laughter, music, happiness and poverty. those things don't go together, but that's ghana. they've got nothing, but they act like they've got everything.
one of housemates, ramzey, is one of the most amazing, unrelentingly positive people i have ever met. he simply refuses to be negative. at 28, he is the 'junior brother' to kofi, who also lives in the house. being the younger brother, he gets to do all the household chores, he gets to clean, and bring in the washing. he also fetches water when the taps aren't flowing, which is almost always. he flat refuses to let me help.
every night when he sees me, he greets me with a smile, and a “you are welcome”.
he makes 60 cedis a month, approximately equivalent to $60 cad, working at a textile shop near the airport, about 45 minutes to an hour from home. his public transportation bill eats up close to 40 cedis per month, leaving him about 20 cedis. he works six days a week, at least twelve hours a day. he has a wife and son. what he can't afford on his regular salary, he makes up by privately buying and selling things for small profits.
he has never asked me for anything.
he manages his life and takes care of his immediate and extended family. but he doesn't just get by. somehow, through iron discipline (something i know very little about) he has managed to save money. he has big dreams of opening a business importing used appliances from korea. he has all the details worked out. he even has a business license already.
he's got a long way to go, his earnings so meagre the dream must sometimes seem unreachable. but he keeps on going, with a million dollar smile, and not much else.
all of which begs the questions: what's wrong with us? why do we constantly bitch and moan about every little thing?
it's embarassing.
ramzey has dreams. and i'm making plans.
one of housemates, ramzey, is one of the most amazing, unrelentingly positive people i have ever met. he simply refuses to be negative. at 28, he is the 'junior brother' to kofi, who also lives in the house. being the younger brother, he gets to do all the household chores, he gets to clean, and bring in the washing. he also fetches water when the taps aren't flowing, which is almost always. he flat refuses to let me help.
every night when he sees me, he greets me with a smile, and a “you are welcome”.
he makes 60 cedis a month, approximately equivalent to $60 cad, working at a textile shop near the airport, about 45 minutes to an hour from home. his public transportation bill eats up close to 40 cedis per month, leaving him about 20 cedis. he works six days a week, at least twelve hours a day. he has a wife and son. what he can't afford on his regular salary, he makes up by privately buying and selling things for small profits.
he has never asked me for anything.
he manages his life and takes care of his immediate and extended family. but he doesn't just get by. somehow, through iron discipline (something i know very little about) he has managed to save money. he has big dreams of opening a business importing used appliances from korea. he has all the details worked out. he even has a business license already.
he's got a long way to go, his earnings so meagre the dream must sometimes seem unreachable. but he keeps on going, with a million dollar smile, and not much else.
all of which begs the questions: what's wrong with us? why do we constantly bitch and moan about every little thing?
it's embarassing.
ramzey has dreams. and i'm making plans.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
chapter 15: "gotta get BACK in time..." (with apologies to huey lewis)
i've been fascinated with time travel ever since 1985, when i saw “back to the future” as a wide-eyed eight year old. the world was full of wonder, and it seemed possible to build a machine that could take me back to the time of the dinosaurs. as i got older, i realized time travel was a fanciful and unrealistic idea.
hello, mcfly!
but as i've progressed into my thirties, i've come to realize that we don't need the flux capacitor. we've had a time machine for decades. catch a flight to africa and you too can travel back in time, just like michael j. fox.
a recent trip to mole national park and a close encounter with a herd of massive african elephants sent me reeling into prehistoric times. we roamed the crusty savannah, sweating through the stultifying heat, and marveling at the humongous beasts. seeing them in person was one of the most surreal and amazing experience of my life.
(see pictures here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=6321&l=c2ac8&id=505014963)
but it isn't all sunshine and elephants.
getting to the park was an adventure, the kind universal studios could cash in on, big time. the trip was typical of what you might have experienced in the developed world...long before it was the developed world. the buses are often 50's or 60's-era hand me downs, prehistoric in their own right. the seats are uncomfortable, the shocks worn out. and the roads are rutted, full of holes, and often made of dirt, even on the major routes between large cities.
we started our journey to mole in kumasi, heading to the stc station for a 7am bus. stc is the only bus line in ghana that has regularly scheduled departures. we calculated that with any luck, we'd travel the 380 kilometers to tamale in seven hours or so, just in time to connect with local bus transport for another four hour ride to mole. unfortunately, though the stc has a regular schedule, it doesn't seem capable of actually following that schedule.
and the following is really the most important part of having a schedule.
anyway, we pulled out of the station at 8:15, already behind the proverbial 8 ball. after a stop or three along the way for gas, wee wee breaks, food breaks, we finally arrived in tamale, at about 3:30pm. luckily for us, african time was in our favour this time. the connecting bus, which was to have left an hour earlier, had still not arrived.
the next challenge was securing a ticket. the bus was full. we were out of luck. that is, until the young guy who had shown us where the bus would be leaving from started campaigning on our behalf. he managed to convince the driver to let us, and a number of other people sit on the floor, stand or wedge ourselves into any number of places a human shouldn't sit for a four hour trip over terrible roads.
i'm not sure how old the dirt roads from tamale to mole are, but they can't be much newer than the elephants roaming the park. they definitely predate road graders. the ancient bus rattled and rolled its way over holes and ridges, grinding bones and jostling internal organs. and the seating plan on the bus...well, let's be honest: there was no seating plan. i can't imagine this scene anywhere in canada. no escape routes uncluttered by bags or bodies in the event of an accident or fire. we were breaking about a dozen laws on the books in cities in modern countries. and as the sun set, we were plunged into darkness. terrifying darkness. no lights anywhere, not on the roads or in the occasional village.
but four hours later, we made it. we made it, but considering our sore butts, sweaty backs and pure exhaustion from the odyssey, i'm thinking next time, i might rent a car.
meanwhile, a word for the ghanaian government: the road to prosperity runs through infrastructure investment!
hello, mcfly!
but as i've progressed into my thirties, i've come to realize that we don't need the flux capacitor. we've had a time machine for decades. catch a flight to africa and you too can travel back in time, just like michael j. fox.
a recent trip to mole national park and a close encounter with a herd of massive african elephants sent me reeling into prehistoric times. we roamed the crusty savannah, sweating through the stultifying heat, and marveling at the humongous beasts. seeing them in person was one of the most surreal and amazing experience of my life.
(see pictures here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=6321&l=c2ac8&id=505014963)
but it isn't all sunshine and elephants.
getting to the park was an adventure, the kind universal studios could cash in on, big time. the trip was typical of what you might have experienced in the developed world...long before it was the developed world. the buses are often 50's or 60's-era hand me downs, prehistoric in their own right. the seats are uncomfortable, the shocks worn out. and the roads are rutted, full of holes, and often made of dirt, even on the major routes between large cities.
we started our journey to mole in kumasi, heading to the stc station for a 7am bus. stc is the only bus line in ghana that has regularly scheduled departures. we calculated that with any luck, we'd travel the 380 kilometers to tamale in seven hours or so, just in time to connect with local bus transport for another four hour ride to mole. unfortunately, though the stc has a regular schedule, it doesn't seem capable of actually following that schedule.
and the following is really the most important part of having a schedule.
anyway, we pulled out of the station at 8:15, already behind the proverbial 8 ball. after a stop or three along the way for gas, wee wee breaks, food breaks, we finally arrived in tamale, at about 3:30pm. luckily for us, african time was in our favour this time. the connecting bus, which was to have left an hour earlier, had still not arrived.
the next challenge was securing a ticket. the bus was full. we were out of luck. that is, until the young guy who had shown us where the bus would be leaving from started campaigning on our behalf. he managed to convince the driver to let us, and a number of other people sit on the floor, stand or wedge ourselves into any number of places a human shouldn't sit for a four hour trip over terrible roads.
i'm not sure how old the dirt roads from tamale to mole are, but they can't be much newer than the elephants roaming the park. they definitely predate road graders. the ancient bus rattled and rolled its way over holes and ridges, grinding bones and jostling internal organs. and the seating plan on the bus...well, let's be honest: there was no seating plan. i can't imagine this scene anywhere in canada. no escape routes uncluttered by bags or bodies in the event of an accident or fire. we were breaking about a dozen laws on the books in cities in modern countries. and as the sun set, we were plunged into darkness. terrifying darkness. no lights anywhere, not on the roads or in the occasional village.
but four hours later, we made it. we made it, but considering our sore butts, sweaty backs and pure exhaustion from the odyssey, i'm thinking next time, i might rent a car.
meanwhile, a word for the ghanaian government: the road to prosperity runs through infrastructure investment!
Friday, February 8, 2008
chapter 14: straight buggin', y'all!
growing up in the comparatively ultra-clean, almost annoyingly disease-free great white north does little to prepare prospective residents of a place like ghana. at times, my journey into west africa has struck me with an acute case of fear and loathing. it's a whole new world of potential health hazards lurking around every corner; a breeding ground, if you will, for paranoia.
every day when i wake up, i assess my body for damages. is that itchy red mark a gift from a malaria-bearing mosquito? poisonous spider? bedbug? it's like christmas all year long. only in this version, i can truthfully say it's better to give than recieve and really mean it for the first time in my life. i like to imagine families gathered around the tree, giving eachother guinea worm wrapped in festive little packages, saying “i saw this and had to get it for you!”
painful welts, itchy bumps, unknown red scrapes, runny eyes and nose, searing blisters, abdominal pain...there's a million stories on the human body, and mine has heard them all. the lonely planet's “dangers and annoyances” section has become a virtual to do list. theoretically, you don't want to drink the water, eat certain unidentifiable foods, expose yourself to festering garbage piles or rivers of raw sewage.
but those are sooo yesterday. there are much more creative and exotic ways to test the ol' travel insurance!
bilharzia, for instance. i have no idea how to pronounce it, or even what it is. i do know i don't like the sound of it. i know it's present in many of ghana's lakes and rivers. when i ask the locals if it's safe to swim, the typically casual reply “it seems so,” doesn't fill me with confidence. better to steer clear than emerge from the water with a third arm, no?
it's a hypochondriac's wet dream. there's always some nasty virus or parasite lurking just around the corner.
and fellow refugees from the safe, luxurious embrace of the developed world don't help, either. everyone's got a story. from falling off a motorcycle, to serious malaria, and stumbling into a rain-filled gutter for a nice, relaxing sewage bath. That's sewage, not seaweed, for all you spa-goers. and the less said about the hospitals of horror, the better. that's one time you may be better off with a marathon waiting room experience.
but despite all the pitfalls, i remain relatively healthy. this despite eating questionable morsels of street meat, going weeks without taking my daily malaria meds and tro-tro rides like real-life amusement park attractions.
knock on wood.
maybe i should be a little more cautious. maybe i should pay more attention to the various scars, bumps and blemishes ravaging my alabaster skin.
but then again, i was never all that attractive anyway.
either way, i'm enjoying myself too much to care, and building up one hell of a lot of antibodies while i'm at it!
every day when i wake up, i assess my body for damages. is that itchy red mark a gift from a malaria-bearing mosquito? poisonous spider? bedbug? it's like christmas all year long. only in this version, i can truthfully say it's better to give than recieve and really mean it for the first time in my life. i like to imagine families gathered around the tree, giving eachother guinea worm wrapped in festive little packages, saying “i saw this and had to get it for you!”
painful welts, itchy bumps, unknown red scrapes, runny eyes and nose, searing blisters, abdominal pain...there's a million stories on the human body, and mine has heard them all. the lonely planet's “dangers and annoyances” section has become a virtual to do list. theoretically, you don't want to drink the water, eat certain unidentifiable foods, expose yourself to festering garbage piles or rivers of raw sewage.
but those are sooo yesterday. there are much more creative and exotic ways to test the ol' travel insurance!
bilharzia, for instance. i have no idea how to pronounce it, or even what it is. i do know i don't like the sound of it. i know it's present in many of ghana's lakes and rivers. when i ask the locals if it's safe to swim, the typically casual reply “it seems so,” doesn't fill me with confidence. better to steer clear than emerge from the water with a third arm, no?
it's a hypochondriac's wet dream. there's always some nasty virus or parasite lurking just around the corner.
and fellow refugees from the safe, luxurious embrace of the developed world don't help, either. everyone's got a story. from falling off a motorcycle, to serious malaria, and stumbling into a rain-filled gutter for a nice, relaxing sewage bath. That's sewage, not seaweed, for all you spa-goers. and the less said about the hospitals of horror, the better. that's one time you may be better off with a marathon waiting room experience.
but despite all the pitfalls, i remain relatively healthy. this despite eating questionable morsels of street meat, going weeks without taking my daily malaria meds and tro-tro rides like real-life amusement park attractions.
knock on wood.
maybe i should be a little more cautious. maybe i should pay more attention to the various scars, bumps and blemishes ravaging my alabaster skin.
but then again, i was never all that attractive anyway.
either way, i'm enjoying myself too much to care, and building up one hell of a lot of antibodies while i'm at it!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
chapter 13: hitting the halfway point on a high
moving somewhere as completely and bewilderingly different as ghana is one long roller coaster ride. there have been plenty of ups and downs, but the time has been flying by as of late. i recently celebrated my centennial in ghana - 100 days.
as i write this, i'm off on vacation for a couple weeks, and before i get back to work, i'll have hit the official halfway mark of this 248 day journey. to me, that sounds amazing, considering there have been days i thought would never end, that made me feel like packing it in and going home.
i'll be heading to accra to meet tristin today, who's visiting from home for a couple weeks. i can't wait. i can't wait for a familiar face that i can communicate with full bore. i won't have to use half-english phrases like "i'm coming" instead of "i'll be right back". explaining what you just said to someone who doesn't understand gets exhausting.
we'll celebrate tristin's birthday on saturday. on sunday, we'll cheer on the ghana black stars at the first game of the african cup of nations football championships. i've always wanted to be at a game among fans who live and breathe the sport, and they don't come much more passionate than ghanaians. on monday, we'll start a two week beach tour along the coast in the western region. then it's off to kakum national park for a night or two of camping on the treetops. then a few days in kumasi, where tristin will be besieged by my drooling male colleagues who have been driving me crazy asking when their new wife will be coming. it's making me laugh just imagining it.
as difficult as things have been at times, work has been really busy and really productive lately. and i'm starting to see real tangible signs of success.
my young intern/protege muftaw, who i've been working with a lot, completed his first feature story yesterday. (listen to it here: http://jhr.ca/fieldnotes/index.php?view=section&iid=9447&sid=72) he's a bright young guy from kumasi's muslim community. he literally comes from the most unfortunate, poorest upbringing i've ever seen. the literacy rate in his community is 10%. most people live on less than a dollar a day. both his parents are dead. he lives in a tiny room in a slum, which rents for about three dollars a month.
but despite that, he's gotten his education, he's articulate, ambitious and passionate about journalism. he has no formal training, but makes up for it with lots of ideas and energy, and he soaks up knowledge like a sponge. we've been doing human rights related stories every day. i've seen him grow by leaps and bounds, and it's been so gratifying. just the other day, the news editor asked him to put together a demo tape. which means he's considering hiring him and actually paying him.
back in september, when i met my fellow journalism trainers and the jhr head office people in toronto, they told us not to expect too much. we decided if we could do one really good story or open one reporter's eyes to the importance of human rights, we'd be satisfied. but theory is one thing, and dealing with reality another. as with most people, i am my own harshest critic, and there have been some dispiriting days.
but without beating my own drum too much, helping one young guy fight his way up from the bottom makes it all worthwhile.
as i write this, i'm off on vacation for a couple weeks, and before i get back to work, i'll have hit the official halfway mark of this 248 day journey. to me, that sounds amazing, considering there have been days i thought would never end, that made me feel like packing it in and going home.
i'll be heading to accra to meet tristin today, who's visiting from home for a couple weeks. i can't wait. i can't wait for a familiar face that i can communicate with full bore. i won't have to use half-english phrases like "i'm coming" instead of "i'll be right back". explaining what you just said to someone who doesn't understand gets exhausting.
we'll celebrate tristin's birthday on saturday. on sunday, we'll cheer on the ghana black stars at the first game of the african cup of nations football championships. i've always wanted to be at a game among fans who live and breathe the sport, and they don't come much more passionate than ghanaians. on monday, we'll start a two week beach tour along the coast in the western region. then it's off to kakum national park for a night or two of camping on the treetops. then a few days in kumasi, where tristin will be besieged by my drooling male colleagues who have been driving me crazy asking when their new wife will be coming. it's making me laugh just imagining it.
as difficult as things have been at times, work has been really busy and really productive lately. and i'm starting to see real tangible signs of success.
my young intern/protege muftaw, who i've been working with a lot, completed his first feature story yesterday. (listen to it here: http://jhr.ca/fieldnotes/index.php?view=section&iid=9447&sid=72) he's a bright young guy from kumasi's muslim community. he literally comes from the most unfortunate, poorest upbringing i've ever seen. the literacy rate in his community is 10%. most people live on less than a dollar a day. both his parents are dead. he lives in a tiny room in a slum, which rents for about three dollars a month.
but despite that, he's gotten his education, he's articulate, ambitious and passionate about journalism. he has no formal training, but makes up for it with lots of ideas and energy, and he soaks up knowledge like a sponge. we've been doing human rights related stories every day. i've seen him grow by leaps and bounds, and it's been so gratifying. just the other day, the news editor asked him to put together a demo tape. which means he's considering hiring him and actually paying him.
back in september, when i met my fellow journalism trainers and the jhr head office people in toronto, they told us not to expect too much. we decided if we could do one really good story or open one reporter's eyes to the importance of human rights, we'd be satisfied. but theory is one thing, and dealing with reality another. as with most people, i am my own harshest critic, and there have been some dispiriting days.
but without beating my own drum too much, helping one young guy fight his way up from the bottom makes it all worthwhile.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
chapter 12: mister big stuff...who do you think you are?!
from the outside, ghana appears to have the foundation of a solid democracy. the constitution codifies individual rights, representative democratic institutions, independent judiciary, all the trimmings of what we in canada see as a good liberal democratic feast.
power to the people!
but if you examine that foundation a little closer, you'll notice a lot of it is built on uneven ground. there's a lot more to really putting power in kofi q. public's hands than meets the eye. and there's a lot going on at the unconscious level that takes me back to first year political science, and in essence, the whole reason for my being here.
are universal rights really universal?
i have no trouble arguing that freedoms like speech, religion, thought, assembly should be universal. but i've come to realize that for most people here, even if they pay lip service to those things, the reality is much different.
ghanaians excercise a kind of orwellian doublethink when it comes to their place in the pecking order. leaders at all levels constantly talk about serving the public, but they know that millenia of social conditioning will ensure that it's really the public serving them. respect the chief, respect your elder, respect authority.
such is the “BIG MAN” culture. it basically means that people who command a lower level of power in society will constantly be kept waiting, are not entitled to all the relevant information, and do not dare question or show disapproval. it's a way of showing your hierarchical inferiors who's boss.
the only person who can stop the big man is a bigger man.
a ghanaian friend recently had to pay a bribe to the police. he was promoting a movie he produced, getting one of his (28 year-old) 'boys' to put up posters around the city. the 'boy' was caught plastering some on a wall with a warning against posting bills, and subsequently taken into custody. my friend was called onto the carpet. we went to the cop shop. after sitting and exchanging pleasantries with the police, my friend eventually went inside, paid a bribe of thirty ghana cedis to get himself and his 'boy' out of trouble. once we were back inside the car, i asked him if it didn't make him angry.
“i am very angry,” he said. “thirty was too much.”
apparently, he didn't mind paying a bribe. It was the amount he was pissed off about.. i should mention that my friend is a radio presenter for a station with a large audience. it apparently never seriously crossed his mind to yank down the dirty cops' pants in public. instead, he phoned the district supervisor, who agreed the bribe was excessive, and chewed them out.
a couple weeks ago, me and a colleague had a meeting with the kumasi metropolitan assembly public relations officer. we showed up. she wasn't there. we hung around for a while, and she casually came ambling in as we were leaving. i asked her why we hadn't been notified that she wouldn't be there. if looks were flying daggers, i'd have been on my way to the morgue. she was angry and surprised, unused to being challenged in that way. i didn't back down. as a foreigner here for a limited time, i have that luxury. but i've seen this woman run roughshod over my young colleague before if he appeared to be critical.
i've also observed members of the army lazily lounging or sleeping on the job day after day, when they were supposed to be standing a post. did they not have enough to do, or were they exposing the people they were supposed to be guarding to danger? in almost any other country with liberal democratic institutions, this kind of disciplinary vacuum would be met with howls of anger from the taxpaying masses. but a suggestion that this is a story that should be told always elicits a helpless shrug of the shoulders from my ghanaian counterparts, meaning it wouldn't be worth the trouble it would cause.
i've tried to educate my colleagues, especially the young ones, that respect is fine, but as members of the media, they have a responsibility to occasionally challenge the big man, whether he (or she) likes it or not. part of a maturing democracy is citizens standing up to authorities who are overstepping their bounds, and it all starts with the journalists. this may result in disapproval or even ostracism. but can there be a cross cultural exception made in this case? not if ghana's journalists are to be truly independent.
"mister big stuff, who do you think you are?"
with apologies to jean knight, sometimes even the big man has to be cut down to size.
power to the people!
but if you examine that foundation a little closer, you'll notice a lot of it is built on uneven ground. there's a lot more to really putting power in kofi q. public's hands than meets the eye. and there's a lot going on at the unconscious level that takes me back to first year political science, and in essence, the whole reason for my being here.
are universal rights really universal?
i have no trouble arguing that freedoms like speech, religion, thought, assembly should be universal. but i've come to realize that for most people here, even if they pay lip service to those things, the reality is much different.
ghanaians excercise a kind of orwellian doublethink when it comes to their place in the pecking order. leaders at all levels constantly talk about serving the public, but they know that millenia of social conditioning will ensure that it's really the public serving them. respect the chief, respect your elder, respect authority.
such is the “BIG MAN” culture. it basically means that people who command a lower level of power in society will constantly be kept waiting, are not entitled to all the relevant information, and do not dare question or show disapproval. it's a way of showing your hierarchical inferiors who's boss.
the only person who can stop the big man is a bigger man.
a ghanaian friend recently had to pay a bribe to the police. he was promoting a movie he produced, getting one of his (28 year-old) 'boys' to put up posters around the city. the 'boy' was caught plastering some on a wall with a warning against posting bills, and subsequently taken into custody. my friend was called onto the carpet. we went to the cop shop. after sitting and exchanging pleasantries with the police, my friend eventually went inside, paid a bribe of thirty ghana cedis to get himself and his 'boy' out of trouble. once we were back inside the car, i asked him if it didn't make him angry.
“i am very angry,” he said. “thirty was too much.”
apparently, he didn't mind paying a bribe. It was the amount he was pissed off about.. i should mention that my friend is a radio presenter for a station with a large audience. it apparently never seriously crossed his mind to yank down the dirty cops' pants in public. instead, he phoned the district supervisor, who agreed the bribe was excessive, and chewed them out.
a couple weeks ago, me and a colleague had a meeting with the kumasi metropolitan assembly public relations officer. we showed up. she wasn't there. we hung around for a while, and she casually came ambling in as we were leaving. i asked her why we hadn't been notified that she wouldn't be there. if looks were flying daggers, i'd have been on my way to the morgue. she was angry and surprised, unused to being challenged in that way. i didn't back down. as a foreigner here for a limited time, i have that luxury. but i've seen this woman run roughshod over my young colleague before if he appeared to be critical.
i've also observed members of the army lazily lounging or sleeping on the job day after day, when they were supposed to be standing a post. did they not have enough to do, or were they exposing the people they were supposed to be guarding to danger? in almost any other country with liberal democratic institutions, this kind of disciplinary vacuum would be met with howls of anger from the taxpaying masses. but a suggestion that this is a story that should be told always elicits a helpless shrug of the shoulders from my ghanaian counterparts, meaning it wouldn't be worth the trouble it would cause.
i've tried to educate my colleagues, especially the young ones, that respect is fine, but as members of the media, they have a responsibility to occasionally challenge the big man, whether he (or she) likes it or not. part of a maturing democracy is citizens standing up to authorities who are overstepping their bounds, and it all starts with the journalists. this may result in disapproval or even ostracism. but can there be a cross cultural exception made in this case? not if ghana's journalists are to be truly independent.
"mister big stuff, who do you think you are?"
with apologies to jean knight, sometimes even the big man has to be cut down to size.
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