



a multi-disciplinary design & research expedition in Ghana
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.
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.