On the move

I leave today, to come back to Canada for two months. There has been much to do in preparation for this, not the least of which was finishing marking scripts. But I finished those yesterday morning. I also have to pack up all my belongings and shift everything over to storage where they will live for the two months. When I return at the beginning of August with Anna-Marie and our dog, Chai, we will be moving into a big fat house.

I was happy to stay on campus for the first five months while I started to get to know and understand the country. And part of me would be happy to continue to stay here. It is relatively quiet (but we are surrounded by students after all) and very green which, I'm sure, means less dusty during the dry season than many neighbourhoods I have been through. In January I was dusting surfaces in my office and rooms daily.

But housing on campus is a hot commodity and after struggling for two months to secure something I finally relented and started shopping off campus. Even this was difficult. The university has a housing office, for both on and off campus. And the staff there are tasked with sourcing apartments and housing off campus. But getting things organized here can be a challenge. For the first two weeks of February we performed a dance of missed appointments before I got the keys to the bungalow.

And after looking at a mixed bag of houses, I felt like Goldilocks (or worse, a prima donna foreigner): houses were too far, too noisy, too expensive, too falling apart, too still being built (with no real guarantee they would ever be finished), too lacking in water (as in had a toilet, but no sink, shower, or tub and wasn't connected to a municipal water supply), too small, or too big. Finally, I settled on too big. And a little further away than I would like, but manageable.

To live close to the university means either renting a house in dollars or renting very little house at all. Landlords that charge in dollars cater to rich ex-pats working for multinationals and NGOs, who clearly make more money than I do, when the monthly rent is more than my entire take-home pay. Dollar houses were never real contenders. However, the house with no water was. To give you a taste of what makes the grade after living here for five months:

Location, location, location. This charming little fixer-upper was within walking, or better, biking distance of the campus and a walk to and cab ride from one of the 'western' malls in the city — catering to foreigners these are the source of cheese, olives, chips, pizza flour, papadums, rice paper, etc. But it also had no water supply, and only a toilet and kitchen sink. Which makes sense when you consider there is no water.

The solution, to avoid bringing in carboys by cab, is to install what is called a polytank (the roof-top thing that blew a pipe in a previous blog entry). Then a truck comes and pumps the tank full. It turns out that most houses in Greater Accra operate this way, even those that are in neighbourhoods with water lines — in part, because the water lines are unreliable. And by either method the water is not potable.

The university was prepared to install the water tank and a shower and a bathroom sink and clean and repair and paint and even clean up the rusting scrap metal from the 'yard'. The second best feature of this house was the price. In fact, location and price were the only features. But I could afford more, so we pressed on.

After a second look at the house above we looked at two more. Both were too far to walk or bike to the campus or the mall, but I had been prepared for this all along. The second one had a good yard.

No, honest. This is a good yard.

I liked where it was. There were lots of little shops on the street and two mosques within sight. But the house was right on the street, and it was a busy one. Also, the place was in very sad shape. The living room had a Teutonic feel to it, complete with water damage and mold, just like in a real castle.

I also learned that, unlike in Canada, landlords here are not saddled with any sense that cleaning the property might help rent it. This saves much time and trouble.

This is a horizontal row of little jalousie windows that open onto a central hall. Rooms on both sides of the hall have larger jalousie windows opening onto the outside so the whole house may benefit from any cross breeze. Above the window is one of many giant cobwebs.

There are other oddities about renting in Ghana. Most rentals are for two years, many others for one year. But to rent you must pay the full one or two years rent up front. This is a real catch 22. It means that many people can never move, when you would have to save up three or four or six months wages to pay down. This is especially hard if you have been living for two years without paying rent out on a monthly bases, but not saving any money.

It also means that landlords are almost by definition absent. Once the money is handed over you probably will not see the person again until the one or two years is up. Especially when something goes wrong in the house. It is a given here that house repairs, even major ones like replacing a roof, are the responsibility of the tenant.

And in defense of the landlords, if a tenant has paid months in advance, there is less incentive to just pick up and move into the house of an extended family member when space comes available. This in the past has been a major problem and was the motivation for the cash up front policy.

On to the house I've rented.

Still further from campus and the mall, and more expensive, but quiet and secure, newly renovated and modern, attractive and large. Too large really, with four bedrooms, three bathrooms and garage. Friends can come and visit and they can bring their own car from Canada. 

From the front porch overlooking the okra patch and the caretaker's house

The house is a compromise. On the one hand, it would be good to live as Ghanaian as possible. On the other hand, I recognize that doesn't mean completely Ghanaian. My driver, Mr Larteh, has three children sleeping in a hall, another two in the dining room, and shares his bathroom with another family. I joked that if I took the place I would give him one of the bathrooms.

The master bedroom with jalousie windows; all the bedrooms have built in wardrobes

Without hot water, the advantage of a bathtub may be minimal, but a few kettles of boiling water will make for a tepid bath to soak in. This was only the second tub I had seen in my search, and was not a deciding factor. But in the absence of a swimming pool...

The master bath with construction debris

And what is called a 'western' style kitchen. I think that means it has cupboards. One place I looked at, still under construction, had no sink, counters, or cupboards in the kitchen. When I asked what the counter and cupboards would look like the builder said he would only install a sink.

The taps will be installed; I have a fridge and a two element cooktop

The plan is that the remaining few things to do will be completed before we arrive at the beginning of August. This is also very typical, an almost completed house with a landlord waiting for a shot of rent money to finish off the work. Landscaping and a polytank have even been mentioned. The front yard is entirely planted with okra and corn. The caretaker's house is occupied until we move in, and the guy is taking advantage of having land to grow a cash crop. I'm not sure if harvest is before August 1.

And now, off to Canada.

Lake Volta

I only have a few days left before I head to Canada, and Ralf is determined that we take a road trip somewhere, anywhere. 

So Friday we quickly grab a few things, pile into the Land Rover and head off. We almost scuttled the trip. I woke Friday morning with a migraine, Fortune has a bit of malaria, and Ralf had root canal that morning. But my headache is gone by noon, Fortune is used to operating with a 'bit' of malaria, and Ralf's head is still half frozen. 

Ralf has it the worst of us. This is round two of three planned visits to the dentist. But today the power was out at the clinic, which meant the dentist couldn't take an X-ray, which meant he was drilling blind (he was using an auxiliary power source strong enough to turn the drill). After the first visit, Ralf was convinced this would be a modern and painless event, even after the freezing came out. He had declined Fortune's offer to come with him to the clinic to hold his hand. Later on the drive he announced that Fortune could join him for the next appointment.

We are headed for the southern tip of Lake Volta, where the Akosombo hydro dam is. Just below the dam, on the river, are several resorts that Ralf and Fortune know. The drive is only about three hours from campus.

From the University we first drive up into the hills to Peduase, to pick up Fortune from their home. We each have a glass of fresh squeezed mango juice that Fortune has prepared. We then drive through the hills, avoiding the main highway, passing through charming little towns, before connecting with highway after an hour or so. On route, though, Fortune and Ralf recall why leaving for a road trip on a Friday is a bad idea.

Friday is the preferred day for funerals. And funerals mean crowds of people slowly walking down the main street of town, often with a casket shoved in the back of a car which is then pushed down the street. There will be loud, distorted music, people yelling and singing, others carrying smudge pots with burning or smoldering plant leaves, cars speeding up and slowing down, with people hopping on and off, and a long line of people, like us, passing through town in a gridlock of cars and trucks. And there will be plenty of drunk driving. 

In one town we are almost in a head on crash with a car. Out of each window, yelling and waving, are four people, one of them the driver. He is not looking at the road and swerves directly in front of us going at a good clip. Ralf applies the horn and breaks simultaneously and cranks the steering wheel, taking us into the crowd of mourners weaving up the street. No one is hurt and the car continues to dangerously wander through town.

If a hard semester or a hard week weren't enough to make a night at a resort seem restful, town after town of Ghanaian funerals will do it.

Still we arrive in good time, and in one piece.

The site is beautiful. There are rolling hills all about, forested not with a tall, deep jungle but with a remarkable mix of trees, including some pretty impressive species, towering over the rest of the canopy, complete with vines and support tendrils.

And the river is gorgeous. We have arrived late afternoon and the sun is already beginning to give a warm glow to the water.

Even though we are below the dam, the river is wide, impressive, and well travelled.

We eat our dinner on a deck built out over the water and watch the sun set, feel the air cool off, and enjoy a quite atmosphere of good food, night scented flowers, brandy and conversation.

The lake is a major source of tilapia, most of it farmed. So we all have the grilled tilapia. Typical of Ghanaian cuisine, it comes under a blanket of raw onion and green pepper, accompanied by hot chili sauce and banku (fermented and steamed cornmeal and cassava — not pictured).

Though it seems we sit by the river under the glow of lanterns for hours, it is remarkably early when we check into our rooms. This is a combination of my still adjusting to complete dark by 6:30 to 7:00 and us collectively being tired.

The rooms are quite charming. As breakfast is included we plan to just make a slow start to the day and find each other in the morning.

Saturday is cool and there are signs of storms about, though we avoid driving in any serious weather. We drive north to the dam. The Okosombo Dam is rather utilitarian, but it is good to get above it and see the lake. This year the dam and the hydro-electric project celebrates its 50 birthday. It was originally built to supply power to the aluminum industry. A byproduct of this was the electification of Ghana. The project also supplies power to Togo and Benin.

Volta Lake is the largest human made lake on the planet. The kinds of human and environmental upheavals that such a project would bring are easy to imagine. Despite the regular power outages down the line, this project has been relatively successful. The transmission system is the weak link. In addition to a tilapia industry, just above the dam is a tour boat with an on board restaurant that takes a couple of hours plying the waters nearest the dam. But there is a car and truck ferry a little further up the river that heads up the lake with landings on both the west and north east side. Ralf hopes to do this in the near future. The ferry ride takes two days to get to its destination, which is not even the top of the lake. But it is a short cut to the north east region of Ghana.

 

The drive back to the city is fun. It is baby goat season and they are everywhere. I've long felt that any day you see a goat is a good day, and this is an extraordinary day.

It is also mango season and dozens of kinds of mangoes are for sale at hundreds of stands along the road. I now have a bag of small mangoes, about 6cm long. The best way to use them is to cut them in half around the equator and juice them on a lemon or orange reamer. Which I don't have. So I will attack them with a sharp knife and eat them my standard way.

The weather is fine, I feel refreshed, there are no funerals, as we drive through the country and villages of Ghana.

 

Making water

Before leaving Canada my friends Mary-Lynne and Antin presented me with a hand-held, battery-operated, UV water purifier. It does up to a litre at a time, so I'm not about to go into business with it. But as soon as I arrived in Ghana I sought out rechargeable batteries and a charger appropriate to the Ghanaian electrical system. I've been re-using the same 1.5 litre water bottles since. Its tap water, and it tastes like tap water, but it is healthy. And between making coffee and generally re-hydrating myself I go through about 2.5 - 3 litres a day, which keeps the little tool busy.

At the Guest Centre two weeks ago a roof top 'polytank' burst its pipe just as I arrived home. As I walked up the stairs to my room, suddenly there was a tympani on the roof beside me followed moments later by a percussion below me. 

I don't even think I had noticed the tank before. If you enlarge the image you can just make out the jet of water from the top of the pipe against the sky. In the time it took to grab my camera most of the action was done. But the pounding on the roof and the clatter below brought a couple of staff and the water supply was quickly shut off.

Unfortunately, this also included my place and the cool shower I was looking forward to at the end of my hot walk home dried up. The water was off for several hours while the fittings were replaced. And when it came back on it flowed dark red-brown until the next day. I didn't think even my UV purifier would get me to drink the brown stuff — of course, since it works on light, opaque water can't be purified. The next day I had to buy water like everyone else.

One of the great luxuries of the Guest Centre is that there is (frequently) hot water. During the hot days of January this was not really necessary. And now that the days are cooler (31 degrees instead of 33 — but less humidity) I haven't had hot water for two weeks. So the morning shower can be a little brisk. It's still hot enough that most days I have two.

As I've noted before, when I arrived, Ghana was deep in the haze of the dry season. In addition to re-hydration, water was necessary just for opening up the throat during the days of inhaling the red dust. But now that we are moving into the rainy season (I still can't get anyone to say we are in the rainy season, or when we will be, for that matter) some days there is an abundance of water. Some homes keep their cisterns at capacity by channeling water from the roof. This can't be done with the roof top units. But you can have a tepid shower if the water in the tank heats up in the sun. Unfortunately, bacteria also prefer the water warmer.

It now rains about every second or third day. This occurs usually in the evening or early morning hours, which is convenient as I'm usually either already home or have yet to set out.

Yesterday was atypical. 

It rained before dawn, but just lightly. I then went down to the Guest Centre restaurant for breakfast. Now that I have exams to mark, and in keeping with my tradition in Canada, I like to start the process off over a breakfast out. During breakfast it began to pour. I had a bag full of exams to mark, so just settled in. The coffee is caffeinated so I always stop after two cups. This allowed me to use my cup to catch the water dripping from the ceiling onto my table. The entire day was drizzly. Later in the afternoon, while at my office, we had two more torrential downpours.

As I type, it just started to rain again. This is the second time today, so perhaps yesterday was not atypical but the new normal. I hope it doesn't last as I have to get to my Appointment meeting shortly. Around here showing up looking and smelling like a wet dog is probably fairly common, but still, you only get to make one first impression. I'd rather the impression is 'that nice dry Canadian'. At least I had the foresight to bring my umbrella today, though I'm not at all convinced it will provide any adequate protection.

Yesterday was a holiday, Africa Day (imagine Canadians celebrating America Day — that's just not gonna take off) and I think in anticipation of it, the guy who cleans my room brought in an extra towel and this:

And thank heavens. I find nothing more bothersome than a nasty paper cut on my butt. I've read the fine print; I've no idea what is safe about the paper. Maybe it's a child safety feature — the roll can't get stuck in the wind pipe of a three-year old.

The university has some of the best washrooms I've encountered. There was a different attitude toward public washrooms pre-1960s. Most grand train stations will demonstrate this. In April I read a paper at the 9th Annual Arts Colloquium, which was held in the Great Hall, the centre piece of the administration complex that sits on the hill top overlooking the campus and surrounding countryside. I had been in the hall in January, but only briefly, and had no need to check out the facilities. But the conference spanned two days.

The urinal was hard to photograph but it is a triplet. As I face the urinals, the door in is on the left, the sinks on the right. Behind me is  a wall of toilets behind beautiful mahogany doors. One was occupied and I didn't really feel I should face my toes that way and start clicking.

And here is another little favourite, in the men's room at the Loggia, the Senior Members Club that I frequent. The star feature here is the all too rare corner urinal, with the little quarter-round tank above. Another nice feature of the SMC is the washroom has cloth towels.

The rain has stopped and off I go to my meeting.

Exams

Now the real work begins.

My students wrote their final exam this morning. I have 134 students in my Existentialism class. This is pretty impressive when you consider the class is an elective and only Philosophy majors can take it!

A major difference between universities in Canada and here is the evaluation of students. Here the final exam counts for 100% of the course mark. I have given the students small assignments through the term but these were optional and not for marks.

The exam is it.

All the work through the semester comes down to how well you perform in a three hour period. I'll also point out, that three hour period was from 7:30am to 10:30am on a Sunday morning.

Plus, unlike in Canada, there are no exceptions, no special allowances or dispensations, no alternative dates and times. As one person described it to me, about the only way you can write the exam at another time is if you pass out during the exam; you and the exam will be rushed to hospital and when you wake up a pen will be put in your hand.

You can imagine the stress this places on students. And the security surrounding the exams: drafts are immediately shredded, copies aren't emailed but are hand delivered by senior members of the university, and this morning at the building where my students wrote was a security guard in fatigues and jack boots. I didn't notice if he had a gun, but I think he had a baton.

Another difference is that I was not present for the exam. I showed up at 7:10 to check that the exam itself was correct and then came back at 10:30 to collect the 'scripts'. I only saw a few of my students. But the good news is they thought the exam was fair.

I actually had students come by my office yesterday, on a Saturday, with the expectation (not hope) that they would see me and ask questions about the exam. I declined. But Mawuli, who is my class assistance, one of the National Service guys, and has been sitting in on the class all semester told some students he would lead a study session on Saturday in the office he shares with other NS workers. I saw him when I came in yesterday and he told me about his plan. I said in lieu of actually meeting with students I would wander down the hall and spend a few minutes with them.

Word got out.

Later, when I left my office there was a crowd of students flowing out into the hall, and in total about 25-30 students jammed into the room. I spent a half hour with them. It was actually a lot of fun, more than lecturing in a big hall to 130 of them.

I have just over two weeks left here, and a good chunk of that will now be spent marking. 

Happy Ya Ya Day

KK turns three!

A dubious looking KK

And Fortune and Ralf and Aunt Rachel brought KK, cake, balloons, and bubbles down to my office on Saturday. It seems an odd place to celebrate a birthday, but KK didn't seem to care and my office is air conditioned. After cake we went to the faculty club for drinks and the ubiquitous kabob.

KK starts to warm up

The whole family lives up in the hills north of Legon, about a 45 minute drive. Fortune is taking a class in Legon — a university preparatory class for mature students — so she and Ralf were driving down anyway. It was sweet of them to decide to include me in the festivities. KK and I have just recently become friends, but she seems to genuinely like Dr. Carl (as I'm known).

KK warmed up

KK looks like she wasn't excited about sitting on dad's shoulders with a bunch of balloons, but once the cake came out of the box she started to get the hang of what birthdays are really all about. She was at a birthday a few months ago and had fun. Afterward she announced she liked the happy ya ya and the title has stuck.

I can't decide if the main event for a three year old is blowing out the candles or eating the cake.

What am I saying; of course it's eating the cake.

And what a cake. A spongy white centre covered with thick gobs of sugar, dyed and sculpted into swirls of red, yellow, and white florets, ribbons, and letters. After two big fat pieces I was slipping into an edible oil coma, but KK was just warming up.

The sugar kicks in

Now KK is really ready to party, and dad brings out the bubbles. Even Fortune had never seen these before. But at the mall before the party Ralf recognized the bottle of Chinese made bubbles and wand. I jumped around a bit less than KK, but the attraction to bubbles does seem to be universal and ageless.

Later, while Fortune was at class we sat around in the shade at the Loggia. Each of the Halls on campus has a faculty club, or a facility for senior members, as they say here. Every senior member is supposed to be appointed to one of the facilities, but Ralf said he has never been officially appointed, I probably won't be either, and that after five years of research he has settled on the Loggia, as the facility at Mensah-Sarbah Hall is called. 

We all arrived at the Loggia, with Fortune taking her leave for a few hours. Before she left beer and soft drinks were ordered and this being a special day, not just kabob but a whole guinea fowl. Every club has a barbeque and every Ghanaian seems to like what I call international meat on a stick. The meat up for offer is usually chicken, beef, goat, sausages, and whole guinea fowl. The guinea fowl is a little more showy, and not as good a deal as the boneless meat on a stick. All are served with raw onion and (the only part I've tried) a great, dry dip of ground peanut and chili.

Ralf has promised me that his dogs will teach my dog to hunt guinea fowl.