What's Next

After spending over a month traveling around (Ghana, training the new Peace Corps volunteers, etc), I’m gearing up for a long stint in Tobre. School begins on September 10, classes begin September 17 (the pre-rentre is the time when students clean the school grounds). I’m looking forward to this new school year. Looking back on how nervous and unprepared I was last year, I can see what I will do differently as a teacher this time around. I know better how to be firm, but friendly. I know what types of activities work in a crowded classroom, how students expect to be treated, and how much I can teach in a two hour block. I have that great resolve that comes with beginning something anew.

Apart from teaching, there are a number of other things that will keep me busy in Tobre. My grant for the women’s garden was funded completely, so when I had back we’ll be able to buy the pump, drill the hole, and get these ladies the garden they deserve. Another volunteer will (hopefully) be coming out to teach them some accounting skills.

I’m also toying with the idea of starting a Girl’s Club this year. There’s a lot to figure out logistically (a time that they’ll be allowed to come, a neutral place to hold the club, a local partner, etc), but once its all figured out, I think a place where girls can come together to learn, think, and just have fun will be of immense value.

All this brings me to what I’m most excited about at the moment. I was recently thinking out loud to another volunteer about the problem of poor vision in my school. My neighbor girl, who is one of my students and who does any number of small chores for me, began getting lower and lower grades this year, due mainly to the fact that she can no longer see the board. Even though she sits in the front row, and copies off other students, her grades have slipped from 16s and 17s (out of 20), to 10s and 11s. And she is not the only one.

Students here, especially girls, must study at night. Since Tobre has no electricity, students study around small gas hurricane lamps. They tend to keep the wick low, as not to use more gas than needed. But couple this practice with eyes that may already be weak, and you have a recipe for disaster.

As someone dependent on glasses, I can’t imagine having to go about my day – from school to chores- without being able to see properly. As I talked about this, a simple idea struck me: bring optometrists to Tobre to test vision, and see if I can find some place to get cheap glasses from. We all had vision tests in school, and after talking to some other volunteers, I learned that there are in fact optometrists in this country that do such trips to villages.

So I made my way to Parakou, and took the 20 minute moto ride to the optometry hospital. I set up a meeting with the director, and came back the next morning to meet with him. I planned out what I would say in French to explain my ideas, but it turned out the director was a British man, so I was able to speak English.

The plan is: I will go back to Tobre with the vision sheet he gave me, and pre-test the students. If there is a number with vision problems, the doctors will come. And now its up to me to find glasses to go along with it all. Any suggestions?

Ghana in-depth

As promised, I will now relate a little regarding my trip to Ghana:

My main reason for going was to take the GRE, which I spent about a month studying for half-heartedly, and two weeks studying for in earnest. Also, I had heard that they sell strawberry frozen yogurt and delicious fried chicken in Ghana.

I planned on traveling with another Peace Corps volunteer, but the nature of life in West Africa meant that she couldn’t get her visas in time. So I went alone. Overland. It sounds a little bit more adventurous than it really was. Mostly I just had to carry my Lonely Planet West Africa guide with me everywhere, and ask lots of people for directions.

I spent a couple nights in the capital, Accra. Accra was amazing. Amazing in the sense that there are tree-lined streets, public spaces, high rise office buildings, and delicious food. I kept feeling like I needed to explain to people that I had just come from Benin, especially when I spent seven minutes staring at the Poptarts and gluten-free bread in a grocery store.

After taking the test (I did fine), I went to Cape Coast, which is the site of one of many colonial slave forts. I found a cheap hotel ($7 a night), and wandered around the town. While still pretty touristy, Cape Coast was somewhat of a relief after the shock of Accra. Here there are plenty of door-in-the-wall shops, street food, and other things that have come to represent West Africa for me.

I took a day trip to Kakum National Park, and did the most touristy thing there, which is a rainforest canopy walk. Lumbering across suspended beams with a group of about 40 other tourists is probably not the best way to appreciate an African rainforest, but its what I did. If I had another chance, I would probably sign up for an early morning or night hike, in order to better observe the forest, and maybe catch a glimpse of wildlife.

Strangely enough, I ran across a couple of volunteers who had recently finished their Peace Corps service and were traveling through West Africa. So I spent an afternoon with them. It was a nice break from all the alone time I was having.

After saying goodbye to my friends, I went to El Mina castle; another slave castle a short ride from Cape Coast. The castle itself is sobering, especially when paired with a dramatic tour guide, who made me stand silently in the female slave holding cell as he gave a detailed description of how the English governor would choose his slave of the day from a balcony above.

(Most slaves sent to the New World came from West Africa. Most sent to the U.S. came from Ghana, while those from Benin were usually sold in Haiti, Brazil, and the Caribbean.)

While in El Mina, I wandered a bit around the port and tried to take some pictures. Unfortunately, a number of people demanded to be paid when I asked to take their picture. Even a little old lady who was selling crabs demanded money – more money than her crabs cost! So I found a way around those saavy guys by taking pictures of kids, since they are too happy about getting their picture taken to ask for anything more. Two can play this game.

The aspect of being 100% a tourist was strange. I’m so used to doing what’s necessary to integrate that accepting people’s attitude towards me as a foreigner in Ghana was a little hard. But sometimes, people could tell that I wasn’t just in Africa for two weeks, like most Americans. More than once, as I was haggling over the price of something, the seller would squint at me and ask where I was from. When I would explain that I’m from the U.S., but that I’ve been in Benin for the past year, they would get an “Ah-ha!” look and resign themselves to giving me a lower price. Ah-ha.

I spent my last night in Ghana though, playing the part. I stayed one night in a nice, ex-pat hotel. The hot water, air conditioning, and Mexican food were well worth it.

But the next day, I was ready to make my way back to Benin, and was even relieved when I crossed the border into Togo and could start speaking French again. As I went from my own seat on a Ghanaian bus, to sharing the front seat of a junky taxi with three other people, I felt like I'd come home.

GHANA

I just got back from a week in Ghana, or as we call it here, The Promised Land. Since I have a bad cold right now (due to airconditioning, maybe?)I'll write more about my journey when I'm feeling more creative and less congested.