Well, I’ve been back in the States for over a week and things have basically resumed to business as usual. I’d like to thank everyone who read the blog again for all of your awesome support!
This last entry is for all future travelers interested in voyaging to Ghana on a similar adventure. What follows is a not even close to complete list of things to bring or consider before traveling.
- Anti-mosquito weaponry. I sprayed myself at least every evening with bug spray (DEET, 30%). The mosquitoes weren’t such a terrible problem – they were much smaller than I expected, and really only came out during dusk and evenings. I took Malarone, a daily malaria prophylactic. There were four other pills I had heard volunteers take, and I would recommend a cheaper pill or one that is taken weekly. However, it is very important to take your meds; two people on the program got malaria while I was there, so the threat is real. You can also spray your clothes with Premethrin, a chemical that keeps mosquitoes away from your clothes and survives several laundry washes. It’s also a serious carcinogen and probably not worth it.
- Phones (like everything else in the country) are pay-as-you-go. Either bring a phone that would accept a SIM card and work in Africa (not all SIM phones do, check online) or buy a phone (~$30). I used a Tigo phone company, but all are essentially the same.
- I would recommend bringing a candy or food that reminds you of home. There are very few sweets in Ghana, and I had many chocolate cravings. Luckily I brought two bags of M&Ms, which were able to sustain my sugar fix for the six week trip.
- Bring shaving cream if you plan on using a manual razor.
- Bring or purchase in Ghana an electrical adapter with a ground plug (the third hole). They are available in Ghana for pretty cheap and mine worked fine, save for occasional sparking. In Cape Coast, all electrical outlets are the Great Britain style.
- Bring a Visa debit card. Master Cards and anything else aren’t accepted.
- Bring office supplies, if only as a gift for Ghanaians. Paper, tape, and pens are pretty scarce. I brought some mechanical pencils as prizes for students, and those were a pretty big hit.
- Try the fruit! It’s all very good, just be sure they don’t “wash” with common water or slice with a contaminated knife. Unpeeled or unsliced fruits are usually safe, and they’re delicious.
- Try FanIce! It’s a delicious bagged frozen yogurt. Vanilla is the best, though they have other flavors.
- There are very few mirrors in Ghana, so if you want to check your hair I’d recommend just snapping a digital picture. If you’re desperate, you can buy a mirror in the market but they’re expensive (by Ghana standards).
- Although riding in a taxi is a very rushed experience, take a moment to check the seat as you’re getting out for any forgotten items. While I was in Ghana, 4 different volunteers had lost an Ipod, camera, and 2 cell phones.
- A note about etiquette: Crossing your legs is considered the sign of a lazy person. Also, it’s offensive to point the bottom of your feet at somebody. Everything is done with the right hand – signaling a taxi, paying for money, shaking hands, etc. Often, taxis will pass you if you try signaling with your left hand. Eye contact or saying hello to strangers is acceptable and encouraged, especially if you’re white. Hissing at someone is how you get their attention (not shouting across the street), and clucking is a sign of disapproval.
- One last thing: Keep an open mind! You’re going to a third world country, and things won’t always work out as planned. The unexpected will routinely happen, and you’ll just have to go with it. If you are volunteering, try not to be disappointed if you encounter resistance to change. It’s impossible to change the world single-handedly – it’s a very gradual process. Think of your work more as laying the foundation for future volunteers, and take satisfaction in knowing that you really are making a difference, even if the changes aren’t immediately apparent.
Thanks again for following my blog! If you have any questions you can reach me at band.aid.dude (at) gmail (dot) com
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Tomorrow's Stars and Goodbyes
It’s been awhile since the last blog (SORRY HIRSH!) because I’ve been closing up shop and prepping for my return home. However, I should mention that George Weir (an alumnus of Phi Psi OH Epsilon at Case) arrived in Ghana last week and we’ve met up twice. George and his wife Kathy founded an NGO called Tomorrow’s Stars, and they’ve been supporting three schools in the Elmina area for several years now. Before the trip, I knew Tomorrow’s Stars as that organization that my chapter of Phi Psi raises money for via the annual soccer tournament. However, since spending time with George in Ghana, I’ve come to appreciate it so much more.
Last Saturday I met with George and Kathy to attend their friend’s mother’s funeral. Because it’s Ghana, we arrived an hour late and thus right as the ceremony was beginning. Ghanaian custom mandates that those in attendance to a funeral wear all black as a sign of mourning. But don’t let the black clothes fool you – the funeral was more a celebration of life. The family was cheerful and smiling as they greeted people. This may have been because the mother passed away two months ago, and she was kept on ice until a lavish funeral could be arranged. Needless to say, the casket was closed.
The family rented 5-6 large tents to cover about 200 people in attendance. It was a Pentecostal service, so of course there was lots of dancing and worship. There was a live band with the same instruments as the church service I attended: a keyboard, drum kit, bass guitar, and bongos. We were given the best seats in the house, smack in front of the pastor and family.
Then the casket came out. To say it was garish is an understatement. The body was large, rounded white metal, with a chrome Jesus on a cross at the head and large chrome handles. Clearly the deceased was taking a 60’s vintage Cadillac up to heaven.
There was a thirty minute procession in which Kathy, George, Rudolph and I walked behind a marching band and the junior cadets (kind of like a mini-ROTC with wooden guns) through the hot African sun, dressed all in black. The cemetery they buried her in was pleasantly disorderly, filled with overgrown brush and crumbling headstones. Many graves had collapsed in on themselves and the whole scene probably would have been much creepier at night, but was very pleasant during the day.
We took a taxi back to the funeral site, where I sat two seats away from the regional chief surrounded by his assistants, mightily holding his gold staff (yeah, we had good seats). There was some kind of donation/auction which I didn’t understand at all, and a band was setting up behind the auctioneers, soundchecking over their speeches. There was a high-life (a blend of reggae and hiphop) concert from which my ears are still ringing, and we decided to head out.
As we were trying to make an inconspicuous exit, George was called up to the mic to make an impromptu speech. He was introduced as “the obruni from Europe and his lovely family” (he’s from Pittsburgh). He explained Tomorrow’s Stars and how it has helped the schools in the area, and then we went on our merry way.
The second time I met up with George, he gave me the grand Tomorrow’s Stars tour, visiting all of the schools it supports and explaining the history. We started at Edinaman Secondary School, which looks like a small university (secondary schools are the equivalent of high school). In ten years, the population has increased fivefold because of its increase in academic standings. It now has a population of 1200, about 40% living in dormitories on campus. The computer lab had fifty computers, more than I’ve seen the whole Ghana trip. The school is built on a hill, meaning there’s a mega-hike to get to classes without the handy-dandy elephant stairs, but there are some great views of the beach and salt mines around the area.
Rudolph joined us and we headed over to Christ Cares, the original T Stars school. It is a primary and junior secondary school, like elementary and middle school. Since George has started his support, they have built a water tower and a two-story building, tripling the size of the school and providing much needed supplements like a computer lab. T Stars provides a scholarship to 25 Christ Cares students to attend Edinaman, and the scholarship has easily proved its worth from a simple examination of some of its recent graduates, like Rudolph. Rudolph is a curious, intelligent student with passions for Chemistry and Biology, and he’s starting university this week. At the Elmina festival, during our walk at the funeral, and on our hike down Edinaman, Rudolph fired off question after question about the sciences. As I would begin to answer, he would fill in the gaps and completely understood my responses immediately. I know he’ll succeed and go far in life, and hopefully he’ll pave the way for other bright students.
The last school we visited was Bantuma Primary and JSS. Richard was in the process of painting the school so that it would comply with the government-regulated colors of tan and brown, colors that would inspire any student to buckle down and learn. Bantuma has a good sized library filled with English children’s books as well as two computers.
It was great to finally see the impact T Stars has created on the education of so many students in Elmina. It was also a point of pride to know that a Phi Psi brother was responsible for kickstarting the organization, and that Phi Psis continue to donate and fund the programs. After the grand tour, George and Kathy graciously hosted me, Rudolph, and the librarian Solo to dinner at Coconut Grove. We said our goodbyes, and I wished Rudolph happy travels on his university adventures.
I’m going to Accra today, and will stay the night. I board my plane tomorrow to go home. This has been a truly fantastic adventure, and I’m both saddened and excited by its closing. Thanks for following my blog, and I can't wait to see friends and family!
Last Saturday I met with George and Kathy to attend their friend’s mother’s funeral. Because it’s Ghana, we arrived an hour late and thus right as the ceremony was beginning. Ghanaian custom mandates that those in attendance to a funeral wear all black as a sign of mourning. But don’t let the black clothes fool you – the funeral was more a celebration of life. The family was cheerful and smiling as they greeted people. This may have been because the mother passed away two months ago, and she was kept on ice until a lavish funeral could be arranged. Needless to say, the casket was closed.
The family rented 5-6 large tents to cover about 200 people in attendance. It was a Pentecostal service, so of course there was lots of dancing and worship. There was a live band with the same instruments as the church service I attended: a keyboard, drum kit, bass guitar, and bongos. We were given the best seats in the house, smack in front of the pastor and family.
Then the casket came out. To say it was garish is an understatement. The body was large, rounded white metal, with a chrome Jesus on a cross at the head and large chrome handles. Clearly the deceased was taking a 60’s vintage Cadillac up to heaven.
There was a thirty minute procession in which Kathy, George, Rudolph and I walked behind a marching band and the junior cadets (kind of like a mini-ROTC with wooden guns) through the hot African sun, dressed all in black. The cemetery they buried her in was pleasantly disorderly, filled with overgrown brush and crumbling headstones. Many graves had collapsed in on themselves and the whole scene probably would have been much creepier at night, but was very pleasant during the day.
We took a taxi back to the funeral site, where I sat two seats away from the regional chief surrounded by his assistants, mightily holding his gold staff (yeah, we had good seats). There was some kind of donation/auction which I didn’t understand at all, and a band was setting up behind the auctioneers, soundchecking over their speeches. There was a high-life (a blend of reggae and hiphop) concert from which my ears are still ringing, and we decided to head out.
As we were trying to make an inconspicuous exit, George was called up to the mic to make an impromptu speech. He was introduced as “the obruni from Europe and his lovely family” (he’s from Pittsburgh). He explained Tomorrow’s Stars and how it has helped the schools in the area, and then we went on our merry way.
The second time I met up with George, he gave me the grand Tomorrow’s Stars tour, visiting all of the schools it supports and explaining the history. We started at Edinaman Secondary School, which looks like a small university (secondary schools are the equivalent of high school). In ten years, the population has increased fivefold because of its increase in academic standings. It now has a population of 1200, about 40% living in dormitories on campus. The computer lab had fifty computers, more than I’ve seen the whole Ghana trip. The school is built on a hill, meaning there’s a mega-hike to get to classes without the handy-dandy elephant stairs, but there are some great views of the beach and salt mines around the area.
Rudolph joined us and we headed over to Christ Cares, the original T Stars school. It is a primary and junior secondary school, like elementary and middle school. Since George has started his support, they have built a water tower and a two-story building, tripling the size of the school and providing much needed supplements like a computer lab. T Stars provides a scholarship to 25 Christ Cares students to attend Edinaman, and the scholarship has easily proved its worth from a simple examination of some of its recent graduates, like Rudolph. Rudolph is a curious, intelligent student with passions for Chemistry and Biology, and he’s starting university this week. At the Elmina festival, during our walk at the funeral, and on our hike down Edinaman, Rudolph fired off question after question about the sciences. As I would begin to answer, he would fill in the gaps and completely understood my responses immediately. I know he’ll succeed and go far in life, and hopefully he’ll pave the way for other bright students.
The last school we visited was Bantuma Primary and JSS. Richard was in the process of painting the school so that it would comply with the government-regulated colors of tan and brown, colors that would inspire any student to buckle down and learn. Bantuma has a good sized library filled with English children’s books as well as two computers.
It was great to finally see the impact T Stars has created on the education of so many students in Elmina. It was also a point of pride to know that a Phi Psi brother was responsible for kickstarting the organization, and that Phi Psis continue to donate and fund the programs. After the grand tour, George and Kathy graciously hosted me, Rudolph, and the librarian Solo to dinner at Coconut Grove. We said our goodbyes, and I wished Rudolph happy travels on his university adventures.
I’m going to Accra today, and will stay the night. I board my plane tomorrow to go home. This has been a truly fantastic adventure, and I’m both saddened and excited by its closing. Thanks for following my blog, and I can't wait to see friends and family!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Nzulezo
Our numbers here at ProWorld are dwindling…we’re down to only five volunteers. We decided (sort of on a whim) to voyage out to the Western Region to see the fabled stilt-city of Nzulezo, a village built entirely on a lake.
Lauren, Lucas, Olivia and I departed via trotro from the main market Kotokraba at 9AM. Akhil wanted to sleep in late (yeah, I just called you out buddy). It was a 2 hour ride to Takoradi, the capital city of the Western Region. Along the way, we saw a rubber tree forest and processing plant, along with the much anticipated “Lion King plains” – an endless field of tall grass stretching as far as the eye can see, dotted with solitary trees and cacti. All that was missing was an oddly shaped rock mountain and Elton John. They speak a different language from Fante in the west, and so we had an even more difficult time figuring out how to get our connecting ride to Nzulezo. Eventually we figured it out, and it was another 2.5 hour ride to our destination.
Once we arrived, we were told that there were many groups ahead of us and we would be stuck waiting if we didn’t “open our hands [wallets]”. Fearing that it was noon already and we had a five hour trip back home, we paid the extra 10 GHC ($6) to be included in the next group, a Presbyterian church group from Accra (a 7+ hour ride at least).
The city on stilts was pretty cool, but the canoe ride to the village was the most excellent part. Navigating through the wetland marshes and lakes and hearing the splashing of the oars gave us all a peaceful easy feeling. Then we arrived at the village. No one understands why these people decided to build a village on a lake, but they did a pretty good job of urban planning. The dock leads directly to the main street, lined with shop huts and a school. The houses were off the main road, in compartmented blocks. Everything (streets, houses, stilts) was made of bamboo, and every so often the bamboo needs to be entirely replaced. Very expensive upkeep, but probably worth the price of being one of the largest tourist spots in west Ghana. The sun was setting on our return trip, and it was a very beautiful scene.
When we got back to dry land, we were elated that our adventure had gone so well. The enjoyment disappeared as soon as we tried getting a ride back home. The trotros had stopped running and there weren’t any taxis in the area. The Presbyterians we had travelled with were packing up their air-conditioned, spacious, shiny greyhound bus and graciously offered us a ride for the small price of saying a prayer for everyone’s safe return. Thinking of the bumpy dirt roads that I would get to experience in a bus with actual suspension, I diligently prayed. Everyone on the bus was super friendly, and we had a great time making friends and swapping stories and laughing at the terrible Ghanaian films all the way back to Cape Coast. It was an excellent adventure.
A side note: most establishments in Ghana are named after some Christian phrase, i.e. “Blood of Jesus Spot [Bar]” or “Our Holy Saviour Barber Salon” or “Believe and Be Saved General Store”. While walking around looking for the trotro terminal to get to Nzulezo, we happened across the “John Lennon Spot,” proving that in at least one instance John Lennon is, in fact, bigger than Jesus.
Lauren, Lucas, Olivia and I departed via trotro from the main market Kotokraba at 9AM. Akhil wanted to sleep in late (yeah, I just called you out buddy). It was a 2 hour ride to Takoradi, the capital city of the Western Region. Along the way, we saw a rubber tree forest and processing plant, along with the much anticipated “Lion King plains” – an endless field of tall grass stretching as far as the eye can see, dotted with solitary trees and cacti. All that was missing was an oddly shaped rock mountain and Elton John. They speak a different language from Fante in the west, and so we had an even more difficult time figuring out how to get our connecting ride to Nzulezo. Eventually we figured it out, and it was another 2.5 hour ride to our destination.
Once we arrived, we were told that there were many groups ahead of us and we would be stuck waiting if we didn’t “open our hands [wallets]”. Fearing that it was noon already and we had a five hour trip back home, we paid the extra 10 GHC ($6) to be included in the next group, a Presbyterian church group from Accra (a 7+ hour ride at least).
The city on stilts was pretty cool, but the canoe ride to the village was the most excellent part. Navigating through the wetland marshes and lakes and hearing the splashing of the oars gave us all a peaceful easy feeling. Then we arrived at the village. No one understands why these people decided to build a village on a lake, but they did a pretty good job of urban planning. The dock leads directly to the main street, lined with shop huts and a school. The houses were off the main road, in compartmented blocks. Everything (streets, houses, stilts) was made of bamboo, and every so often the bamboo needs to be entirely replaced. Very expensive upkeep, but probably worth the price of being one of the largest tourist spots in west Ghana. The sun was setting on our return trip, and it was a very beautiful scene.
When we got back to dry land, we were elated that our adventure had gone so well. The enjoyment disappeared as soon as we tried getting a ride back home. The trotros had stopped running and there weren’t any taxis in the area. The Presbyterians we had travelled with were packing up their air-conditioned, spacious, shiny greyhound bus and graciously offered us a ride for the small price of saying a prayer for everyone’s safe return. Thinking of the bumpy dirt roads that I would get to experience in a bus with actual suspension, I diligently prayed. Everyone on the bus was super friendly, and we had a great time making friends and swapping stories and laughing at the terrible Ghanaian films all the way back to Cape Coast. It was an excellent adventure.
A side note: most establishments in Ghana are named after some Christian phrase, i.e. “Blood of Jesus Spot [Bar]” or “Our Holy Saviour Barber Salon” or “Believe and Be Saved General Store”. While walking around looking for the trotro terminal to get to Nzulezo, we happened across the “John Lennon Spot,” proving that in at least one instance John Lennon is, in fact, bigger than Jesus.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Religulous Ep 2: The Holy Rollers Strike Back
This Sunday I went to church with Adina. Having never attended a Pentecostal service, before we left I ask her the difference between her church and a Baptist one. Her one word answer: “charisma.” Wanting clarification I ask if the prayers or service were different. Nope. Confused, I prepare myself the best I can for a very charismatic morning.
When we arrived I got the immediate impression of attending a concert rather than a religious service. Housed in a concrete building roughly the size of a basketball court, worshipers are inundated with echoing, low-fidelity sound from a band consisting of a preacher/lead-singer/rock-band frontman, 3 backup singers, a drum kit, a keyboard, and some variation on a bongo. The sound was of such poor quality that two songs in I realized they were actually singing in English. I was fortunate that the rest of the service was in English as well.
Adina is a deaconess and elder in her church and thus sat separately from me. As an elder, it seemed to be her responsibility to get up and lead the dancing in front of the pulpit. Why older people frenetically moving in front of the stage is supposed to inspire the congregation to join in dance is beyond me, but it seemed to be effective – for the first 30 minutes of the service the entire auditorium was out of their seats (plastic chairs arranged as pews), bouncing and shouting and singing and praising His Name.
After 30 minutes, a pastor returned everyone to their seats for a 5 minute responsive bible reading. Everyone had brought their own New Testament (funnily enough, I seemed to have forgotten to bring mine…). After the reading, there were 10 minutes of song. This pattern continued, with 5 minutes bible interrupted by 10 minutes of singing/dancing. Or perhaps the singing/dancing was interrupted by the bible? Regardless, the congregation had a very specific script to follow. Every time a pastor said, “Hallelujah” or “Praise God” we would immediately respond with an enthusiastic “Amen!” However, if he said, “Blessed be Jesus” we would reply with a “Hallelujah!”
I enjoyed the baby dedication ceremony, where newborns were brought to the altar to be blessed by the pastor. He blessed them with long life (the avg life expectancy in Ghana is 57) and sprinkled them with some holy water.
There was one particularly song that the pastor specially requested that the congregation “get into.” During the course of this song I counted five people who got down on their knees, arms raised, a look of pure agony on their faces. One woman danced around in front of the pulpit hunched over with her hands behind her back, resembling a five year old imitating an airplane running in circles. One of the elders went prone face down, arms outstretched in front of her, and shook violently. My EMS training immediately thought clonic phase of a grand-mal seizure and I wanted to clear the area around her and check vitals/pupils.
After this holy roof-raising, we sat down for the longest divar torah I’ve ever experienced. The eldest pastor took the pulpit, and everyone around me whipped out a notebook, making me feel much more comfortable since I’d been desperate to scribble some notes since the beginning of the service. The subject of his talk: spiritual healing. Needless to say, my attention was instantly captivated. This was before I discovered it would be an hour and a half lecture. He started out by explaining that just because everyone in the congregation has been saved by following the true faith didn’t mean we were guaranteed eternal life. You must fight to receive eternal life. “Faith is an arrowhead. It doesn’t miss its target, hits its enemy and leaves them dead. Praise God!” To which the congregation replied instantly, “Amen!” while I was left wondering who the enemy was and how they could be mortally wounded by an ideology. Remember, the talk was supposed to be about spiritual healing, not holy wars.
He seemed to return to the topic shortly by proclaiming (and repeating about 20 times), “healing comes from hearing the Word.” He explains that every sickness is caused by a malevolent spirit, and just as I start to worry that he’ll begin recommending his family witch doctor to treat your malaria and AIDS he clarifies that it is important to get professional medical care. “Medical science only tries to heal the body, but great physicians heal the mind…medicine heals, God cures.” Apparently, God-fearing physicians who dabble in psychology are acceptable by his standards…unfortunately I don’t think any of those exist. He quotes the bible as saying, “those who believe in My Name shall cast out devils” and “in the name of Jesus you cast out devils.” He describes the caduceus (the international symbol of medicine of snakes wrapped around a pole) as physicians saying, “Look up to God for healing, not us.” He concludes his shtick on healing by declaring, “Every sickness will die, and the bad people behind this sickness will die as well.” It’s interesting to see the public image of disease reconciled between the Christian/western views of viruses and pathogens and the traditional Ghanaian views of sinister spirits and witches causing illness.
It was an interesting take on faith and medicine, and it was a side of Christianity I’d never seen before. However, he would frequently shout so loud that my ears would hurt and my head would buzz. He would increase the volume of his voice and repeat his main points for emphasis, and at some points I just would try to shut him out for my head’s sake. He used several interesting metaphors, but at one point he used an obscure fishing metaphor for faith that was way over my head, but everyone else in the room seemed to understand.
He moved on from healing using the Good Word to other areas of medicine. “Faith is God’s sperm cell,” he proclaimed, “the Virgin Mary received faith. If you are a woman waiting for child, it isn’t your husband who isn’t giving you a child, it is God’s word.” Frankly, what with Africa’s population problems, I think it could use a little less faith (I know, I’m going to hell). He closed by restating that with faith you can cure anything, and that “in the name of the Lord, terminal disease is terminated!” Everyone cheered his catchy closer. It was a positive message, and I was probably the only skeptic in the auditorium.
Some upcoming events for the church:
- Wednesday prayer
- Thursday testaments: group meeting explaining when you saw the hand of God or fought against satanic influences
- If you so wish, you can request your workplace or business be blessed. I’m curious how this act is performed, but didn’t get the opportunity to ask.
One of the elders offered to baptize me next Sunday. I told her I’d think about it.
When we arrived I got the immediate impression of attending a concert rather than a religious service. Housed in a concrete building roughly the size of a basketball court, worshipers are inundated with echoing, low-fidelity sound from a band consisting of a preacher/lead-singer/rock-band frontman, 3 backup singers, a drum kit, a keyboard, and some variation on a bongo. The sound was of such poor quality that two songs in I realized they were actually singing in English. I was fortunate that the rest of the service was in English as well.
Adina is a deaconess and elder in her church and thus sat separately from me. As an elder, it seemed to be her responsibility to get up and lead the dancing in front of the pulpit. Why older people frenetically moving in front of the stage is supposed to inspire the congregation to join in dance is beyond me, but it seemed to be effective – for the first 30 minutes of the service the entire auditorium was out of their seats (plastic chairs arranged as pews), bouncing and shouting and singing and praising His Name.
After 30 minutes, a pastor returned everyone to their seats for a 5 minute responsive bible reading. Everyone had brought their own New Testament (funnily enough, I seemed to have forgotten to bring mine…). After the reading, there were 10 minutes of song. This pattern continued, with 5 minutes bible interrupted by 10 minutes of singing/dancing. Or perhaps the singing/dancing was interrupted by the bible? Regardless, the congregation had a very specific script to follow. Every time a pastor said, “Hallelujah” or “Praise God” we would immediately respond with an enthusiastic “Amen!” However, if he said, “Blessed be Jesus” we would reply with a “Hallelujah!”
I enjoyed the baby dedication ceremony, where newborns were brought to the altar to be blessed by the pastor. He blessed them with long life (the avg life expectancy in Ghana is 57) and sprinkled them with some holy water.
There was one particularly song that the pastor specially requested that the congregation “get into.” During the course of this song I counted five people who got down on their knees, arms raised, a look of pure agony on their faces. One woman danced around in front of the pulpit hunched over with her hands behind her back, resembling a five year old imitating an airplane running in circles. One of the elders went prone face down, arms outstretched in front of her, and shook violently. My EMS training immediately thought clonic phase of a grand-mal seizure and I wanted to clear the area around her and check vitals/pupils.
After this holy roof-raising, we sat down for the longest divar torah I’ve ever experienced. The eldest pastor took the pulpit, and everyone around me whipped out a notebook, making me feel much more comfortable since I’d been desperate to scribble some notes since the beginning of the service. The subject of his talk: spiritual healing. Needless to say, my attention was instantly captivated. This was before I discovered it would be an hour and a half lecture. He started out by explaining that just because everyone in the congregation has been saved by following the true faith didn’t mean we were guaranteed eternal life. You must fight to receive eternal life. “Faith is an arrowhead. It doesn’t miss its target, hits its enemy and leaves them dead. Praise God!” To which the congregation replied instantly, “Amen!” while I was left wondering who the enemy was and how they could be mortally wounded by an ideology. Remember, the talk was supposed to be about spiritual healing, not holy wars.
He seemed to return to the topic shortly by proclaiming (and repeating about 20 times), “healing comes from hearing the Word.” He explains that every sickness is caused by a malevolent spirit, and just as I start to worry that he’ll begin recommending his family witch doctor to treat your malaria and AIDS he clarifies that it is important to get professional medical care. “Medical science only tries to heal the body, but great physicians heal the mind…medicine heals, God cures.” Apparently, God-fearing physicians who dabble in psychology are acceptable by his standards…unfortunately I don’t think any of those exist. He quotes the bible as saying, “those who believe in My Name shall cast out devils” and “in the name of Jesus you cast out devils.” He describes the caduceus (the international symbol of medicine of snakes wrapped around a pole) as physicians saying, “Look up to God for healing, not us.” He concludes his shtick on healing by declaring, “Every sickness will die, and the bad people behind this sickness will die as well.” It’s interesting to see the public image of disease reconciled between the Christian/western views of viruses and pathogens and the traditional Ghanaian views of sinister spirits and witches causing illness.
It was an interesting take on faith and medicine, and it was a side of Christianity I’d never seen before. However, he would frequently shout so loud that my ears would hurt and my head would buzz. He would increase the volume of his voice and repeat his main points for emphasis, and at some points I just would try to shut him out for my head’s sake. He used several interesting metaphors, but at one point he used an obscure fishing metaphor for faith that was way over my head, but everyone else in the room seemed to understand.
He moved on from healing using the Good Word to other areas of medicine. “Faith is God’s sperm cell,” he proclaimed, “the Virgin Mary received faith. If you are a woman waiting for child, it isn’t your husband who isn’t giving you a child, it is God’s word.” Frankly, what with Africa’s population problems, I think it could use a little less faith (I know, I’m going to hell). He closed by restating that with faith you can cure anything, and that “in the name of the Lord, terminal disease is terminated!” Everyone cheered his catchy closer. It was a positive message, and I was probably the only skeptic in the auditorium.
Some upcoming events for the church:
- Wednesday prayer
- Thursday testaments: group meeting explaining when you saw the hand of God or fought against satanic influences
- If you so wish, you can request your workplace or business be blessed. I’m curious how this act is performed, but didn’t get the opportunity to ask.
One of the elders offered to baptize me next Sunday. I told her I’d think about it.
An Update???
Yeah, med school secondary apps trump Ghana blogs.
Love Life Updates:
I’ve been pushing for Love Life to join an organization called Global Giving, which is an online community of NGOs who can be funded by individual donors. However, in order to join, Fati needs to get her organization nationally recognized and separate the organization’s finances from her own. Thus far, she’s been financing the organization entirely by her own money and she can’t really afford to expand much more, so it would be good to get some financial assistance. It’s a long and slow process working with the government agency in Accra, and unfortunately the name of our NGO may have to change (there are three Love Lifes in Ghana). I worked with Matt and Tess in creating bylaws and a constitution for the organization, channeling my inner Thomas Jefferson/Henry Robert and showing off my awesome parli-proness (FARCKERS 4EVER).
We had our first positive patient in the clinic. As part of our clinical work, we educate and screen pregnant women for HIV. Instead of lecturing to them about what HIV/AIDS is and how it spreads, we ask them questions to see what they know and fill in the gaps or correct misunderstandings. For example, HIV is not, in fact, transmittable by coughing, mosquitoes, or witchcraft. Last Tuesday, we had a patient who knew the answers to most of our questions. She is 34, is pregnant with her second child, and both she and her husband have steady jobs. She seemed to have her life in order. When we ask her hypothetically if her husband had AIDS would she stay with him, she says yes, she would take the right precautions but still live with him (many say no for fear of getting it through food, toilets, etc.)
Then we tested her and she was positive. She handled the news well, and we told her Love Life would help any way we could – provide meds, financial help, counseling, etc. We sent her to the midwife for further testing (to determine if the infection has developed to AIDS or not – not likely since she seemed pretty healthy and well).
After we finished our screenings for the day we see her again. Now, she’s anxious, crying, and panicky. She keeps wondering how she got infected, and repeats that she is contemplating suicide – quite a statement from someone who was so calm and anchored a few hours before. She accepted our offer of aid, and we will start regular meetings soon.
Later, I learned more about our patient – she is a spiritualist. Spiritualists put symbolic scars on their face and arms, usually by branding with hot knives or pricking. I noticed she had horizontal markings on her cheeks, but didn’t think much of it at the time. Often, spiritualist villages will share pricking knives – a huge opportunity for blood-borne pathogens to spread.
She has also had four ultrasound scans, without any indication of a baby, meaning she likely missed her period due to the virus. We’re afraid to tell her that she’s not pregnant, since she already seems pretty emotionally unstable. It may also be difficult to convince her to take her medicines if she doesn’t have a baby to protect from the virus. We’ll address all of these issues when we see her next.
Other news:
Apparently it’s a cultural taboo to sing in the shower; it’s believed that by singing you invite spirits to attack your digestive system. The origin of this taboo is that the chemicals in soap are easily ingested while singing, which could give you an upset stomach. So far, I’ve managed to be spirit-free despite my beautiful and inspiring daily shower performances.
The entire Pro-World group (now down to just 9 people) went to a luxury beach resort for Friday and Saturday. It was the most amazing time, filled with the most amazing luxuries – a kitchenette, air conditioning, hot water, even a bed that’s not made of straw! And there was pseudo-American food. I ordered a “steak filet” and got burger meat…but it was still a welcome and familiar taste. It was a very late night on Friday, roaming the beach until past 2 AM.
The next day I explored a nearby castle/fort with Akhil. We hiked up a hill only to find the castle, named Fort Amsterdam, was closed. Since there weren’t any signs indicating open hours, we broke in through the “door of no return” (the door used to shepherd slaves out to boats bound for the Americas). From the top of the castle, we had the most amazing view of the beach and surrounding towns! And then we were caught by an archaeologist/tour guide. He was good humored about it, and gave us a short tour around the structure. The fort was taken from the British by the Dutch a year after the Brits captured New Amsterdam, now known as New York City. Not quite an equal trade-off, but the view was pretty excellent. After conquering Fort Amsterdam, we returned to the beach to sunbathe and relax with the rest of the group.
Love Life Updates:
I’ve been pushing for Love Life to join an organization called Global Giving, which is an online community of NGOs who can be funded by individual donors. However, in order to join, Fati needs to get her organization nationally recognized and separate the organization’s finances from her own. Thus far, she’s been financing the organization entirely by her own money and she can’t really afford to expand much more, so it would be good to get some financial assistance. It’s a long and slow process working with the government agency in Accra, and unfortunately the name of our NGO may have to change (there are three Love Lifes in Ghana). I worked with Matt and Tess in creating bylaws and a constitution for the organization, channeling my inner Thomas Jefferson/Henry Robert and showing off my awesome parli-proness (FARCKERS 4EVER).
We had our first positive patient in the clinic. As part of our clinical work, we educate and screen pregnant women for HIV. Instead of lecturing to them about what HIV/AIDS is and how it spreads, we ask them questions to see what they know and fill in the gaps or correct misunderstandings. For example, HIV is not, in fact, transmittable by coughing, mosquitoes, or witchcraft. Last Tuesday, we had a patient who knew the answers to most of our questions. She is 34, is pregnant with her second child, and both she and her husband have steady jobs. She seemed to have her life in order. When we ask her hypothetically if her husband had AIDS would she stay with him, she says yes, she would take the right precautions but still live with him (many say no for fear of getting it through food, toilets, etc.)
Then we tested her and she was positive. She handled the news well, and we told her Love Life would help any way we could – provide meds, financial help, counseling, etc. We sent her to the midwife for further testing (to determine if the infection has developed to AIDS or not – not likely since she seemed pretty healthy and well).
After we finished our screenings for the day we see her again. Now, she’s anxious, crying, and panicky. She keeps wondering how she got infected, and repeats that she is contemplating suicide – quite a statement from someone who was so calm and anchored a few hours before. She accepted our offer of aid, and we will start regular meetings soon.
Later, I learned more about our patient – she is a spiritualist. Spiritualists put symbolic scars on their face and arms, usually by branding with hot knives or pricking. I noticed she had horizontal markings on her cheeks, but didn’t think much of it at the time. Often, spiritualist villages will share pricking knives – a huge opportunity for blood-borne pathogens to spread.
She has also had four ultrasound scans, without any indication of a baby, meaning she likely missed her period due to the virus. We’re afraid to tell her that she’s not pregnant, since she already seems pretty emotionally unstable. It may also be difficult to convince her to take her medicines if she doesn’t have a baby to protect from the virus. We’ll address all of these issues when we see her next.
Other news:
Apparently it’s a cultural taboo to sing in the shower; it’s believed that by singing you invite spirits to attack your digestive system. The origin of this taboo is that the chemicals in soap are easily ingested while singing, which could give you an upset stomach. So far, I’ve managed to be spirit-free despite my beautiful and inspiring daily shower performances.
The entire Pro-World group (now down to just 9 people) went to a luxury beach resort for Friday and Saturday. It was the most amazing time, filled with the most amazing luxuries – a kitchenette, air conditioning, hot water, even a bed that’s not made of straw! And there was pseudo-American food. I ordered a “steak filet” and got burger meat…but it was still a welcome and familiar taste. It was a very late night on Friday, roaming the beach until past 2 AM.
The next day I explored a nearby castle/fort with Akhil. We hiked up a hill only to find the castle, named Fort Amsterdam, was closed. Since there weren’t any signs indicating open hours, we broke in through the “door of no return” (the door used to shepherd slaves out to boats bound for the Americas). From the top of the castle, we had the most amazing view of the beach and surrounding towns! And then we were caught by an archaeologist/tour guide. He was good humored about it, and gave us a short tour around the structure. The fort was taken from the British by the Dutch a year after the Brits captured New Amsterdam, now known as New York City. Not quite an equal trade-off, but the view was pretty excellent. After conquering Fort Amsterdam, we returned to the beach to sunbathe and relax with the rest of the group.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Religulous
The very first night of my staying in Adina’s house, the subject of my faith came up. I told her plainly that I was Jewish, and she was very accepting – she stated that Judaism was a kind of Christianity, and she didn’t understand why I didn’t just believe in the true Lord and His son. I kind of laughed it off (it was the first night, I had to tread softly!) and suggested I go to her church sometime. I’m actually kind of looking forward to the service; Pentecostal services in Ghana are supposed to be quite a show.
Isaac is taking his final exams this week. Today, he took English and a course called “Religion and Moral Education.” Keep in mind that there’s no separation of church and state here in Ghana – Christianity is the official national religion, but there’s a sufficiently large Islam population that other religions are tolerated.
Isaac showed me his practice exam for the religion test, and here are some sample questions:
Q: Jesus fasted for ___ before He was tempted by satan
A: 40 days – I actually got this one right!
Q: Mohammed received his ________ at al Sakharat
A: Last revelation? I didn’t know this, but Isaac was pretty certain
Q: Traditional believers worship God through ______
A: Lesser gods
I asked Isaac to explain that last question. He explains that “traditional believers” worship false idols and not the real God, so Christians have to inform them that they’re praying through those idols to God.
I ask him if he’s ever heard of Hinduism. He shakes his head but Adina, cooking potatoes nearby, grunts. I tell him it’s a very interesting religion with great stories about deities with the heads of animals and bodies of humans. (Please note that I’m not a qualified theology professor (heck, I’m not even a qualified explainer), so please please please don’t hate me Divya/Akhil/everybody for my simplified explanation.) Isaac chuckles at the thought of such gods, but Adina says simply, “It’s wrong.” I object, saying that it’s a different but interesting take on belief, it’s been around longer than Christianity, and the stories are what make the religion interesting. She is a little upset about my discussion of such paganism in her household and cuts her potatoes in silent disapproval, so I change the subject back to Isaac’s tests and ask him about how he studies.
Apparently he doesn’t. I ask him why not and he explains, “If you think too hard then you won’t get it.” I tell him that only studying the night before a test is bad, but studying over a couple of days will really help you learn the material. I offer to help him study, but he left his books at school and doesn’t want my help. I’ll keep trying.
Isaac is taking his final exams this week. Today, he took English and a course called “Religion and Moral Education.” Keep in mind that there’s no separation of church and state here in Ghana – Christianity is the official national religion, but there’s a sufficiently large Islam population that other religions are tolerated.
Isaac showed me his practice exam for the religion test, and here are some sample questions:
Q: Jesus fasted for ___ before He was tempted by satan
A: 40 days – I actually got this one right!
Q: Mohammed received his ________ at al Sakharat
A: Last revelation? I didn’t know this, but Isaac was pretty certain
Q: Traditional believers worship God through ______
A: Lesser gods
I asked Isaac to explain that last question. He explains that “traditional believers” worship false idols and not the real God, so Christians have to inform them that they’re praying through those idols to God.
I ask him if he’s ever heard of Hinduism. He shakes his head but Adina, cooking potatoes nearby, grunts. I tell him it’s a very interesting religion with great stories about deities with the heads of animals and bodies of humans. (Please note that I’m not a qualified theology professor (heck, I’m not even a qualified explainer), so please please please don’t hate me Divya/Akhil/everybody for my simplified explanation.) Isaac chuckles at the thought of such gods, but Adina says simply, “It’s wrong.” I object, saying that it’s a different but interesting take on belief, it’s been around longer than Christianity, and the stories are what make the religion interesting. She is a little upset about my discussion of such paganism in her household and cuts her potatoes in silent disapproval, so I change the subject back to Isaac’s tests and ask him about how he studies.
Apparently he doesn’t. I ask him why not and he explains, “If you think too hard then you won’t get it.” I tell him that only studying the night before a test is bad, but studying over a couple of days will really help you learn the material. I offer to help him study, but he left his books at school and doesn’t want my help. I’ll keep trying.
I Bless the Rains Down in Africa!
It’s the wet season in Ghana, and the last couple of days have been pretty dreary. When it rains the open sewers flood over and the smell is overpowering. I also had a 24-hour cold Thursday-Friday, which was really miserable. It’s pretty striking that recovery treatments for this kind of virus are so similar between the US and Ghana – I was hoping to experience some herbal, all-powerful instafix, but instead I got cold tablets. The tablet packaging had very comical images of smiling obrunis that weren’t relevant in the least to anything, but it fits into the Ghanaian saying of “always trust the white man”.
I first experienced this maxim when Adina was explaining the treatment of her ailing mother (who’s now 90 years old, blind, and partially deaf). Her mother first lost vision a few years ago, so Adina took her to a white doctor who said it was just old age and there’s nothing he could do. Then she took her mother to an African doctor who suggested operation. After the surgery there was no change, and so now Adina believes the white man’s word holds more value than the black doctor, even though the white doctor’s approach was indolent and apathetic while the black doctor suggested action and treatment. Since hearing this story, I’ve seen the “trust the white man” truism in a variety of situations – in commercials, for instance, there is usually a German or British accented speaker doing the advertisements. On billboards for cell phones, there’s often an obruni talking and smiling, confident that he made the right choice in phone and so should all of Ghana. And of course, the random two white people on my cold tablets, smiling quite irrelevantly at the poor sick (probably) black person.
On Sunday, the rains finally disappeared and a couple of people on the program went out to the Coconut Grove Beach Resort. This is quite possibly the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been to, filled with some of the palest obrunis ever. The waves were ginormous! And quite violent – while wading a few meters in we often would wipe out and I was almost dragged out to sea on several occasions. Plus, there were large rocks jutting out of the ocean everywhere – this was more of a “sit on the beach tanning and looking at the pretty waves” kind of ocean.
This was also the place to go if you wanted to go to Ghana but not experience it. Between the large outdoor bars and air conditioned huts frolicked more pale whiteys (and the occasional Japanese tourist) than I had seen so far. There were also fully uniformed guards patrolling the beach with their massive, heavy boots stomping among the scantily clad obrunis. Welcome to Ghana!
I first experienced this maxim when Adina was explaining the treatment of her ailing mother (who’s now 90 years old, blind, and partially deaf). Her mother first lost vision a few years ago, so Adina took her to a white doctor who said it was just old age and there’s nothing he could do. Then she took her mother to an African doctor who suggested operation. After the surgery there was no change, and so now Adina believes the white man’s word holds more value than the black doctor, even though the white doctor’s approach was indolent and apathetic while the black doctor suggested action and treatment. Since hearing this story, I’ve seen the “trust the white man” truism in a variety of situations – in commercials, for instance, there is usually a German or British accented speaker doing the advertisements. On billboards for cell phones, there’s often an obruni talking and smiling, confident that he made the right choice in phone and so should all of Ghana. And of course, the random two white people on my cold tablets, smiling quite irrelevantly at the poor sick (probably) black person.
On Sunday, the rains finally disappeared and a couple of people on the program went out to the Coconut Grove Beach Resort. This is quite possibly the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been to, filled with some of the palest obrunis ever. The waves were ginormous! And quite violent – while wading a few meters in we often would wipe out and I was almost dragged out to sea on several occasions. Plus, there were large rocks jutting out of the ocean everywhere – this was more of a “sit on the beach tanning and looking at the pretty waves” kind of ocean.
This was also the place to go if you wanted to go to Ghana but not experience it. Between the large outdoor bars and air conditioned huts frolicked more pale whiteys (and the occasional Japanese tourist) than I had seen so far. There were also fully uniformed guards patrolling the beach with their massive, heavy boots stomping among the scantily clad obrunis. Welcome to Ghana!
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