A few random bits and pieces as I'm back in Osu on the fast internet, having
spent today (Saturday) exploring Accra:

The Liberians wear a mix of traditional clothing and American style
clothing, often the t-shirts are clearly second hand from America. Many of
the kids have holes in their clothing. But the second hand thing is quite
funny because we saw a guy of about 20 wearing a t-shirt saying "I'm 70"
with arrows to protruding veins, sagging chest, grey hair, etc, and another
older man with a shirt that said "Yes I'm a bitch, that's Queen bitch to
you" or something like that. But really, especially for children, the
clothing situation is very sad. There are many stalls in the camp on the
main streets selling phones, food, clothes, etc. and one is a botique that
had in the front window the other day a Red Sox jersey dress and a Celtics
jersey. I got a big kick out of it but didn't have my camera and when I
went back the window had changed.

I sat for a long time yesterday afternoon with the woman who lives next door
to the house I'm staying in. In between our house and hers is a large
animal pen that a volunteer helped the family build with chickens, ducks,
pigeons, and two rabbits. The animals are fairly new and they are hoping
for babies to eat and sell. One of the rabbits was called Rammy or
something like that - but it sounded to me like Remy, as in Jerry of the Red
Sox, so when they asked me to name the other rabbit I decided on Ortiz. I
had to spell it out for them but they could pronounce it well and I told
them it's a Spanish name. Anyway, the mother's name (I think) is Bantu and
she has at the camp 6 children, including a two year old named Sara who is
just the cutest thing and was a surprise child. Sara can count and do ABCs
and all of that and loves to run around without her shoes (most people wear
flip flops or cheap plastic sandals) which her parents and siblings always
have to tell her to put back on. Bantu told me that she was married to a
government official in Liberia so her family was hunted down and forced
out. She lost many family members including children and her husband,
though her accent made it hard for me to understand the details. After a
trip through Cote d'Ivoire and Guinea she got to Buduburum. She met a man
in the camp and married him and he's a member of the vigilantes, who augment
the insufficient Ghanaian police force for the camp. It's quite nice to
have him nearby for protection as we live at the edge of the
dangerous "Gulf," an empty (but pretty) stretch of land. Bantu asked me if
I could sometimes give her my laundry and the woman who does ours hadn't
arrived so I did so immediately.

Other stories I've heard include a woman who does the wash for the other
guest house, who was with her sister and sister's husband. The soldiers cut
off the husband's head and made the sister comb its hair etc and then the
woman herself was made to be a sex slave for several years. There are
stories like this all over the camp from the older people, and I can't
imagine what the people my age and a little older went through as children.

I got really angry the other night because Thrusday we had a tour of the
camp from Anthony, one of the CBW people, and he said he'd been working at a
hospital in Liberia but because Ghana won't let them work off the camp
everyone is basically chained to the camp where there isn't enough work for
the 48,000 or so residents. Many of the men are completely idle, even those
like Anthony who are very qualified, or those who struggle to put themselves
through IT courses like Bantu's husband is doing to improve their job
chances. Bantu's 22 year old son works on a space-to-space phone, which is
like a rent-a-cellphone. Anyway, I got angry about this impossible
situation: Ghana thinks that the Liberians should be able to go home and
work but most of Liberia is still extremely unsafe, leading to this terrible
quandry and poverty. Still, it is amazing that crime in the camp is very
rare. HIV/AIDS as well is estimated at only 1 or 2 percent. That only 20%
of the camp's children are in school and many don't finish or are 15 in the
5th grade...and the lack of food for some, etc. makes me so angry.

On a different note, the way into Accra today was interesting. Apparently
Saturdays are quite the day for traffic, which sucked, and it was raining
into the windows of the trotro so people shut them leading to overheating
and an excess of carbon monoxide fumes. It took two hours to get into the
city. We went to the Cultural Center, which they call the Art Center, and I
will definately go back before I leave for gifts and such but for now it was
interesting just to look and haggle a little and get a feel for prices.
Then we went to find an Indian restaurant but couldn't so we went to a not
very good place mentioned in the guide book - the people I was with were
hungry so we were rushed, I wish I'd been able to look for the Lebanese
place my guide book talks about. But I'm sure there will be time to try
that, and the Orangerie which is downtown. Anyway, it's pouring rain again,
just in time for us to go back and look at fabric and then get on a trotro
to go back to the camp.

I only have a minute left, got to send.