After finals are over and I'm back at home I will have time to get all sorts of things in order - CDC summaries of various lovely worms and diseases I might catch, advice from Julian, the sophomore who went last summer and has been incredibly helpful, contact information, mulitiple copies of documents, industrial strength sunscreen and DEET spray. Then there's the organizing of money (how much cash? where should I hide it? etc) and figuring out what to pack and how to keep it very compact. I prefer to have a small bag because I'm worried they will lose my stuff going through the flights from Ghana to Uganda, but I'll be bringing a swiss army knife and razors and needles so I will probably need to check the bag instead of getting arrested in Nigeria.
Anyway, the point of this post was to get down some information. I got an email a month or two ago from another volunteer who will also be arriving a night early and has booked a hotel for us to share, and my guidebook provides
this website. Looks a bit overpriced, oh well.
I'll be (tentatively) staying in Guest House 1 at the camp - they have two houses for the volunteers. Each has eight people. Guest House 1 has more stady electricity, which I suppose is a good thing. The email that informed me of this also contained email addresses for the seven other volunteers who will begin in June (either with me or on the 15th) and people who will already be there. I will probably send a few emails out.
The really interesting thing is Global Volunteers New Zealand's journals, which I've partially checked out tonight instead of doing my work. Here's the
Ghana page and the
Uganda page. Interesting stuff, especially from Ghana. One entry has information about the price of a cab (for a white person), the slow internet, taking pictures, etc. Good preperation that I will examine more closely when I'm done with finals. One thing Julian said about cameras is that he didn't take many pictures in the camp and he felt it best not to have a lens between himself and the people. This sounds pretty good to me, but I want plenty of film on hand for travelling around. I think I'll go to Worth (Swarthmore's health center) and pick up several copies of their various brochures on STDs and hope I don't get funny looks from fellow students.
That's all. Right now my biggest problem is figuring out how much bug spray, sun screen, and hand sanitizer to take so that I have enough to be comfortable but I'm not carting around extra.
Last thing - Last week the Times ran an editorial on the camp that Julian says isn't entirely representative, but interesting nonetheless:
Liberians: Looking Down on Ghana While It Rises Above Us
By HELENE COOPER
Published: May 2, 2005
ACCRA, Ghana
The road to the beach here twists through dozens of neighborhoods, and
every one of them is God-fearing. "Believe in Jesus Electrical Parts
Store," says one colorfully painted sign hanging in front of, well, an
electrical parts store. "God is Great Catering and Fast Food," says a
sign in front of a shack selling cans of Fanta and Coca-Cola and tins
of biscuits.
My friends and I - all Liberian - are on the way to the beach, and
indulging in a favorite Liberian pastime: making fun of Ghana. Sure,
Ghana is one of our West African neighbors, but the country just seems
so different. Beyond the Ghanaian quirk - which occurs far less often
in Liberia - of naming businesses after Bible verses, people here like
kooky logos on their buses that have nothing to do with transportation.
"Observers Are Worried" is posted on one bus. "Sea Never Dry" is on
another.
We don't like the food. "I can't believe these people put tomatoes in
ground-pea soup," I complain to one Liberian friend over lunch at a
local restaurant in Accra.
We don't understand the social system. Ghanaian men seem to like going
out stag. "I just don't get it," says my friend, Richard, shaking his
head. "When I first moved here, these dudes invited me out. But the
whole night, it was just us guys. Who wants to go out with just guys?"
Now, I'm not normally particularly nationalistic - I dropped my
Liberian passport after becoming a citizen of my new home, America -
but when I'm in Ghana, this side comes out. Why? The answer, actually,
is simple. Even as I'm joining my Liberian expat friends in making fun
of Ghanaians, I know exactly why we're doing this. We are jealous.
We'll never say it out loud, but Ghana is what we Liberians aspire to.
The list of what Ghanaians have that we don't is a mile long:
Electricity Liberia hasn't had it since 1991, thanks to the former
President Charles Taylor and the civil war he started. But here in
Ghana, you can just walk into a room and turn on a light, and it works.
And when it gets dark, you can still see.
Running water We don't have that in Liberia either, again thanks to Mr.
Taylor and Liberian government officials more concerned with lining
their own pockets than with providing services most people would
consider basic. Taking a bath usually requires contortions involving
buckets. Alas, in Ghana, you can take showers. What a treat.
A functional country These Ghanaians may spend a lot of time coming up
with Biblical passages to name their businesses after, but they seem to
have figured out how to run a country, something we Liberians have
proved to be woefully dismal at. People actually - though sporadically
- remove the garbage from the street in downtown Accra. Downtown
Monrovia has trash piled up higher than the S.U.V.'s that the United
Nations workers use.
To rub salt in the wound, there's even a Liberian refugee camp just
outside Accra for some 70,000 Liberians who fled the war. There are few
amenities at the camp; replicating things at home, the place is devoid
of flush toilets. But all is not lost - I've heard the food there is
way better than anything you can find in downtown Accra.
Was it the inability of Liberians to form a really unified society that
did us in, or is it that Ghanaians are just far more industrious than
we are? We have great bars and discos, and we love to party, but we've
made a mess out of running our country.
A few months ago, I went home to Monrovia to take a look at the
rebuilding going on now that Charles Taylor is finally gone and our
civil wars are over. I arrived at Robertsfield Airport in Liberia and
was promptly hit up for a bribe by the immigration woman who demanded
my passport.
I didn't even think twice about giving her a dollar when she asked me
what I had brought home for my people. I knew that was code for "give
me money or I'll keep you here in this hot little room until you come
to your senses."
Within three hours of my arrival back in Monrovia, I was cavorting with
friends at Musu's Spot, a rowdy outdoor bar across the street from the
United Nations relief mission. West African highlife music was blaring,
and people were laughing and drinking our delicious Club Beer.
If it weren't for the dozens of one-legged former child soldiers
begging for money on the side of the potholed road, you'd have no idea
that you were in a city still recovering from 10 years of vicious civil
war.
I called my Liberian friends in Accra. "You should be here," I yelled
at Richard. But while Richard is happy enough to make fun of Ghanaians
whenever the mood strikes him, he's no fool.
"Nope," he said. "I'm happy right here."
