She is probably my favourite, always smiling and full of shenanigans

The Fulani style includes portable boomboxes, beautiful jewelry and of course model poses

Haha love it, he saw me taking a photo of the tree and wanted in.

Nomad with his cows, this is where the cattle chill at night and the Fulani herders sleep there are well.

The Fulani take very good care of their animals, these are getting rounded up for immunizations.

The Fulani fascinate me, as I spent days with them–learning their language, sketching their architecture, and just chillin with some of the happiest people I have ever seen. I couldn’t speak a word to them when I first arrived, and basically just tagged along to the river with the women where they wash their clothes. Their ingenuity makes me so happy, and as I couldn’t say, ” that is epic!” I gave them the thumbs up sign, which they didn’t get. So I just smiled broadly and hoped they knew they were very intelligent and creative.

The other village I went to had very wise elders and by this time I had learned a few words of Hausa so I could compliment their brilliance, learned a few names, and drew a few faces. I even was invited to bring my camera next time to photograph their village. Their structures are great! I got to chill in one of the elders homes, and drew the interior while the children pointed out what the objects names were in Fulani. What was cool was that they had mosquito nets in their grass/ stick move-able houses.

I probably consumed 2 litres of yogurt and 1 litre of cow’s milk on those visits, but thankfully my body still loves dairy—it’s probably all the Wakashi I have been eating.

So during my village stay I needed some time to reflect, write in my journal, read, you know, and so I journeyed to this rock haven I had found amongst the trees where goats come and bask in the shade. Now I realized this early on in my walk that I was being followed, but I just kept walking slyly glancing back. My pursuer was none other than this tiny girl from the village with a very adventurous look on her face. I couldn’t speak to her so I just kept on walking thinking she would get bored and go back. This was not the case, and she followed me still. So when I finally reached my refuge, she came and stood watching me. Haha I drew her with my pastels—see the picture.

Then as it was I didn’t get to reflect, as at the distant riverside I saw two Fulani herdsmen (or boys as I gleaned when I finally reached them)…so I jumped off my perch and ran through the tall grasses like a lizard to the Fulani with their giant cows. You know it has been my wish since I discovered the Fulani to go herding with them, so it was granted. After my initiation which included me borrowing their ada (knife) for carving a staff I set off with them through the trees to guide their cows. You would be impressed to know that the boys were about 5/7 years old and the 5 year old was the cutest—as he ran after the cows threatening them with his staff. He did so giggly and it was all very inspiring, this yaro (small boy) commanding these cows weighing close to a ton. It was very fortunate that the tiny girl had followed me herding, as I was stung by some creature (later I found out a type of wasp that makes very cool mud houses on the wall of my shower), this tiny adventurous( and very mature for her age) girl lead me home( I would’ve had no clue where to go)–back to the village, and that was that. I soon forgot the sting, as there was an Imam making Tesuba (Muslim prayer beads) so I spent the afternoon sketching him, and learning the Fulani names for things. I also experienced attyre–basically a green tea shot loaded with sugar …mmmm very good, makes you strong–as they say. I bought today at the market the coal pot and the tiny attyre glasses to brew my own

my village stay was a transforming experience, I am learning to appreciate many things. My time not being able to speak one word to the Fulani has given me thankfulness that I can speak English/Gonja/Hausa with my colleagues and has made the office a very social place. I also learned to ask questions and be comfortable with not knowing everything.

Gonja and Hausa I have been learning—every evening I go to a shopkeepers shop, eat caramalized coconut, learn Hauser and play with cute cute cute yaros, and it is very fine indeed. I also sketch alot, and take night photos at dance-off’s.—oh and I got a bicycle! …All-in-All Ghana has granted my wishes.

A man climbing the 15/20 ft pole that the mosque’s loudspeaker was perched on

The smallest kitten I have ever seen in my life, no seriously I almost stepped on it

Woodworker building a boat that was  beautiful Mahogany

A signboard written in script advertising the Ghana vs. Australia game

Father and son in traditional Muslim wear, from the garment to head coverings all very colourful, the boy was very small.

Student graduation and massive dance off

Bicycle with a 7ft wood load

So expect my camera to report some photographs very soon.

Keep posted. Observe life. And seek the random,

So I went out on my first field visit to a far community off a beaten dirt road. This was a very fun journey, through trees, across rivers, and into the welcoming hands of a strong fishing village. Children were smiling from every community, some cried at seeing the white woman,  but a game of peek-a-b00 helped cheer them.

It was along the way that we stopped at a Fulani village, which I have never seen one of it’s kind. This place was far off the road, and I could not have ever discovered because it was well hidden amongst the trees. The reason I thought this place so extraordinary was because it was the village of nomadic herdsman.  I was told later that these people were the owners of the cattle that was often seen roaming across the land.

Now as I said, I wouldn’t have ever discovered this on my own, it was my colleague who had a love for Wakashi–cheese that he made this detour. On the way back when we came for the Wakashi I asked if I could come back and stay with them for a few days, they agreed and I was very excited. They asked me jokingly if I would be able to live with them—-as their setting was one of the most rural I had seen, yet this is an opportunity I will not let pass.

During this field visit, I saw some of the inner workings of the communities. How they interacted with outside presence, how they came to decisions, and how their disputes were handled. I went on this journey at the same time the voting registration was being carried out, and I witnessed some of the challenges these officers faced—crossing rivers with costly printers and cameras, having to come back two or three times because people had not come to register.

Interestingly enough, I saw fishermen in some of the most rural places wearing faux Versace and Gucci, and I thought how far the West has permeated. There were small boys wearing US army shorts, and I even saw a shoulder bag that had Korean lettering across it.

I also realized as my colleague greeted people at every community how important relationships are. The value placed on friends and family is monumental, and really in the end this is what counts.

Well some things that I need to get in Tamale:

clothes pins (yea you wouldn’t think, but in Buipe you can’t find clothes pins-and hence makes washing my clothes a tad tricky)

Bicycle (so I am pretty stoked because I am going to get a bicycle that is ultra retro–and also will keep me super fit)

Wagon wheels (or a mock version, but wow I didn’t realize how much I missed chocolate and marshmellows!)

Staples(yea there are none in my office)

Anyways my battery is dying because my outlet blew up today so I’m going to go have an amazing bucket shower.

As I walked past my neighbor sleeping out in the open air because the evening was too hot to sleep inside, I rehashed the internal conversation I was having about perceptions about Africa. Now him sleeping outside surrounded by burning citronella swirls was just cool, I am going to put that out there, as the moon shone and made everything light I wondered if I was a bit newb for having my fan right by my bed, and also for having my light disturb the darkness.

The main conversation about  how the western media portrays Africans started in the room of my colleagues’ lovely, well educated fiancé—she and I shared a scrumptious meal of T.Z and soup. It was when we were watching the Ghanaian news channel that I objected that THIS was not what I saw in Canada of Africa. THIS—as I hastily described to my hosts was an Africa where people (Africans) were making intelligent decisions, holding parliament, and conducting business. I saw men and women with power, poise, and ultimately a voice— never once in that broadcasting did I see starvation, poverty, or flies. I was flabbergasted and so was my colleague as he interjected, “well why not? Why don’t you see this?”—and he was almost offended. I said basically because this is not what the media shows us (and I might add now that I think back on it, I feel almost coerced by the media on this regard). “Well can’t you watch Ghanaian news for yourself?” this was a very valid point but I responded that as a university student there is hardly time, and plus there are many Canadians who probably don’t even know where Ghana is.

So as my neighbor lays outside below the moon, I wonder if maybe I turned off my fan and my light I could hear and see Ghana clearly.

I was thinking it was about time to post something, lately I have been thinking about relationships–Canadian and Ghanaian the similarities and the differences and how I really do need them both. I don’t really am not going to elaborate on this is it would be very very long, and plus I have another thought.

It was when I was taking photos, man it’s hard people yell, threat, ask for money if I take a photos of them or their roof. But I have found a solution-have a Ghanaian take the photos, you can even tell the difference when you look at the photo, when I take it the photo looks forced as if they have to put up some kind of front, but when my friend the Ghanaian takes it, the photo looks like any family photo, and he can get shots that I cannot. He also can explain to them in Gonja, and ask if it is okay–something that I cannot do as the communication barrier is pretty large.

So what I have ended up with is the thought that a photo is very subjective, and that WHO takes it is just as key as the person in it.

why do Ghanian ads have a family BBQing in their backyard on a green lawn? That is just ridiculous, I mean seriously Ghanians do not want to be a Canadian family on their annual camping trip, so why the obvious western(I might add culturally brain dead) ads?

If you are looking for any conclusions in this post you will not find them, I don’t know why western influence obliterates

Ghanian culture and I also don’t know why Canadians don’t take more hints from Ghanians—such as glass bottles that HAVE to be returned after your soda or else the shopkeeper comes after you(okay bit of an exaggeration, but there is an accountability chain—they have to return their full case of bottles for rebottling and I don’t litter or down cycle) So lesson learned the west(of increased technology) ,and may I add incredible waste is becoming more antiquated, and traditional methods are actually becoming more progressive through sustainability. Inverse relationship hey. I know this is  a very general statement, and what I am trying to say is that cultural practices based on the symbiotic relationships of nature are more our future than practices based on the industrial revolution of cradle to grave.

Basically this is a Cradle to Cradle rant.

Oh and p.s. if you think you see an animal darting away in the corner of your eye in Ghana, it probably is an animal and a fast random one at that-like a ghekko or a really skinny cat ( I would say a goat but they usually are pretty mellow and slow).

I asked if they would walk me home, and I realized the power of making connections to the people around—they can be a much needed safety net even in the most unknown place. One of the boys Sudik was in junior high school the other named Enoch was in high school, as we were walking I asked about the book a was carrying and he handed it to me; to my surprise it contained meticulously handwritten calculus. Yes the good old calculus I have had to become so acquainted with, but this was in Canadian high schools and universities–as I quizzed Enoch on derivatives I soon realized he knew his stuff.

Two things spoke to me, one the willingness of Sudik to learn as he had borrowed this book from a friend, and the knowledge and quick recall of Enoch. It’s almost like in one swift breeze I was saved from my naivety—-I made it safely home, and I understood that Ghana has at it’s heart; keen, intelligent youth seeking after knowledge.