charming Amsterdam

It felt like a dream! That was the first thought that occurred to me when I woke up this morning in the single bed of my tinny hotel room. Everything about the rustic experience in Africa just seemed like the farthest thing away from the incredibly civilized Amsterdam. From the red dirt road to the old cobblestone roads, from the colourful mud huts along the country road to the narrow row-houses along the cannels, from the raggedy old tro-tros and taxies to bikes and smooth electric street cars, and from the Chop shops (stalls that sell home-made stews) to the beautiful restaurants and coffee houses, everything looks and feels a world apart. There is no doubt that Amsterdam is a charming city, and the standards of life here soars far above those of Ghana, but what came to mind is how the dichotomized worlds have shaped the people in it. Are the people in Amsterdam happier and more satisfied about their lives? Or has the privilege and excess of resources just increased people’s appetite for more? I am not sure if they are fair questions to ask, given that Amsterdam also had a time in the past that was as difficult as that of Ghana, but rest assure they won’t deter me too much from enjoying this beautiful city before I will wake up again in Toronto wondering if this was a dream also.

Walk the walk. Talk the talk - Tribute #2

Yes, it is old, and yes it is ripped in a million places, but this pair of old Converse shoes has been with me wherever I went. Four continents, countless adventures later I decided to retire them in Africa, in the little village Todze. I left them with Sam, the man who has dedicated by far the most time and energy to the school. He started on site at 6a.m. every morning, and he worked non-stop until 6 p.m. everyday. He saw every drop of sweat and every ache on his shoulder as a small way to give back to the village, where him and his three siblings grew up. I learned that his father past away when he was young, and because of that he and his siblings were unable to afford education. He does small jobs in the village and in Accra in hope that one day he can go to school, and that one day he can travel out of Africa to see the world that is ever so alluring through his imagination. I know this pair of shoes may look worthless, but I hope that one day it too can take Sam somewhere beautiful and unexpected.

The last minute surprises...my first tribute(and the only one that is not pleasant)!

We have been incredibly lucky when it came to the weather, even though it was suppose to be in the middle of the raining season, there has been hardly delays induced by the rain in the past month. Just when we thought everything could be smooth sailing from here on, two things happened to really spice up the ending of the trip. 

First came the unpleasant surprise about Ian's final speech. As if it is not frustrating enough that he has been displaying shitty (excuse my language) attitude and treatment towards students all throughout the project, there has been a complete disregard for all the students' (maybe except one or two students, and even that is questionable) inputs and feedbacks. For the past almost 8 months, we met for 2 hours a week to design and research only to find out that all we end up contributing to the project is labour. In the final speech he gave at the opening ceremony he said, and I quote, "I have made it a personal mission, and so involve Ryerson University", and that my friends set the tone for the mission. All the Ryerson faculties, students, and all the other help from the locals and the terrific workers are only here to be a support of his vision. He didn't even acknowledge the effort contributed by everyone else but his own and that of his project manager (who has genuinely been the key stone of the project). Even worse, he did not consult or inform the students about the last minute decision to change the name of the school to memorialize his mother, I am truly sorry for his lost but I don't think it is appropriate to dedicate everyone else's effort to his mother. What kind of push-over does he think we are (especially when many of the students feel that they are treated like slaves)? On a positive note, regardless of how childish and unreasonable the leadership was, the students made the best out of this trip that they signed up for; it’s just a shame that one person’s need to satisfy his own ego comes out of the expense of students (literally, as we had to finance ourselves here) and the locals and all others who have participated in the construction process.

The other surprise came last minute just as we were leaving Ghana. The film crew went to film the final footage of airplane departing in the sunset, and they never came back for the flight that night. Apparently, they were held because of security breach. Parents please do not worry, they are perfectly okay and they will be flying tomorrow instead and pick up their luggage from me in Amsterdam along the way. It was just a very stressful and worrisome 8 hours as we wonder what could have happened to them. In hind sight, it was much more comical than anything else, certainly made the conclusion of the trip that much more memorable.

With that end the first tribute! Cheers to all the ups and downs of the journey that made it non-other than extraordinary!

All cleaned up!

I am sitting in a cafe in Amsterdam all cleaned up! No more smelly shirts and shoes, all the cuts and scrapes are taken care of. for the upcoming few days, I will be posting a series of 5 after thoughts about the trip. Once again I thank you for being with the group and me to experience this expedition and making us feel looked-after even when we are thousands of miles from home.

and so came the last day...

It was the last official day of work we have onsite. The past three and half weeks have slipped by in a frantic haze. I have mix feelings about the day as part of me is so desperately looking forward to go home to everything I have left aside in Toronto, yet there is another part of me that wishes to continue learning and experiencing this lovely country I have developed a lot of affection and respect for. With that said, the last day was full of last minute duties from painting, pargeting to ground work and site clean-ups. The thought of finishing, or maybe it’s the thought that we will no longer need to wake up at 5:15 everyday, helped everyone move at twice the speed and twice the stamina as usual. About mid-way through the day right after we had taken lunch and took town the tents that we have been sheltering under for the past three and half weeks, a tropical thunderstorm dropped-in once again unannounced. All the locals, workers, and the students ducked under the two classrooms watched and waited as the bean-sized raindrops pounded down on the galvanized roof so mercilessly. It was a much-needed break, and a very opportune inspection of any deficiencies on the roofing. I had the pleasure of staying in the village for one last time with the film crew, Miles and David. After another lovely dinner of Fufu, the chief, who is a music teacher by day, called in the neighbours to perform song and dance at the very same space where we have met three and half weeks ago. The atmosphere is full of grace and joy; the experience of participating in the song and dance was as liberating as it was exuberating. It is undoubtedly one of the most memorable moments of this trip, which prompted the thought: It’s strange, in a very good way, how I can be so far from home, yet feel so at home!

One ride, two funerals, three Ghanaian cedis

Early on Saturday morning as we arrived onsite, chairs and tents were being set up for he funeral service in the adjacent field. The traditional Ghanaian funeral has a red and black motif (unless the deceased is older than 80 years of age, in which case the motif would be white). I had been assigned to work on the wooden sunshades at the backside of Ho House; therefore I have had the pleasure to witness the most unordinary funeral celebration in the adjacent field. 10 o’clock came around when the field became bustling with attendees of the funeral. At quarter after 10, 5 tro-tros (the local vans that ordinarily serves commuters between Ho and Todze) skipped over the rugged terrain and drove into the field, reminiscent of car chasing scenes in old Hollywood movies. The tro-tros circled the field with no intension to slowdown making muddy tracks along the way. The close proximity to spectators made anyone who is unfamiliar with the funeral ceremony run for their lives, but the attendees cheered and cried loudly and fearlessly, as were the people who were hanging off of the tro-tros. No sooner as the tro-tros come to a stop did the people in them bust out with the coffins held above their heads. The scene was so frantic and the people seemed so far under the influence of alcohol the coffins were shook and almost dropped. The men and women cheered and danced wildly to the beats of drum and brass instruments around the coffin making the scene more festive than it is grime. I find it quite fitting and lovely that the funerals are conducted as a celebration of life here. Instead of the grief and the sorrow (which I suppose is still present but contained), people energetically expressed their gratitude toward the deceased and their accomplishments and contributions to the community. The funerals eventually quiet down into a much more familiar scene of a service before the deceased were carried off to the burial ground. I had the pleasure of leaving the site a couple hours early, so I decided to take the tro-tro back to the hotel. At the tro-tro station, the festivity continued with women dancing to the music and the men standing around cheering. The very same tro-tro that contained one of the coffins was there and ready to serve its regular duty. I got onto one of the tro-tros departing for Ho. 16 people packed into the family-sized van making it difficult to move during this 45-minute trip. The women on the tro-tros were wearing red and black dresses and decked out in gold jewelries. They sang, joked, and laughed throughout the trip once again carried the festive atmosphere into the car. What a lovely way to remember some you loved (and it only cost me 3 cedis to get back to the hotel)! 

All hail the half-day!

It’s the first time since the beginning of construction that we have had a half-day off. There are two funerals in Todze this weekend, and it is a local tradition that all work for the day stops before 2p.m. We were all super excited about the prospect of visiting a waterfall and maybe the neighbouring Togo. I will spare you the details, but we didn’t end up going to neither the waterfall nor Togo. Nevertheless, the shear thought and luxury of being able to have a half-day to use on our own discretion was able to put us back to the Bob Marley mood on the bus. On the way back, many students ventured off to Ho Market to pick up fabrics and souvenirs. Not a second too soon as we jumped off the bus, did the tropical rain engulf the town. I stuck with Kara, Andrea, and Tricia as we quickly ducked under the leaky canopies of the market place. The paths are filled with muddy, red, storm water that formed a stream. The rapids, created by the changing grades, swallowed our shoes and foot whole (I suppose we witnessed the waterfall after all). We finally found shelter under the roof of a fabric store, all the mesmerizing patterns and prints shows off the proud textile industry in Ghana. We spent 25 minutes browsing and bartering with the lady at the store (it is pretty typical to barter at the market- especially as a “Yevu”= foreigner – otherwise, you are just a floating wallet waiting to be ripped off), while the rain persisted. At this point, we were hopelessly drenched, but high spirited about hunting down some Kenti (hand weaved cloths). The only place that produces Kenti cloth near by is named “Albert’s Kenti Weaving Centre”. If you get the impression of it being a huge facility with multiple weaver, then you would be as surprised as I was when I realized the Kenti cloths are produced by Albert himself under a tin structure in front of his mud brick house; that is not to say anything negative about his Kenti cloths though. In fact, the vibrant colours and intricate patterns give each cloth an irresistible charm. I had to vigorously restrain myself to not have over-spent. This little excursion on our otherwise routined days gave us a great opportunity to witness some of the local crafts, and local life that made us even more appreciative of life in Ghana.