Friday, June 5, 2009
charming Amsterdam
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.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The last minute surprises...my first tribute(and the only one that is not pleasant)!
All cleaned up!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
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!
Monday, June 1, 2009
One ride, two funerals, three Ghanaian cedis
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.