All my bags are packed and I'm ready to go...

Yes, I'm leaving - on the 11pm flight tonight.

I'm very excited. I've really enjoyed my time here but I'm definitely ready to come home. It's been an amazing experience with everything I've done and everybody I've met, but all good things have to come to an end.

I'm looking forward to seeing how much of a culture shock it is back in the UK.
I might post a little something and let you know how it is.

Thanks to all my loyal readers - we'll meet for a beer in Blighty very soon - okay who am I kidding - a bottle or two of Pinot is some swanky London wine bar dahhhling.

The last week

It's been tough as I've been ill but we've managed to tie up a few loose ends.

We've finally got the District Director of Education to approve the timetables for the schools to use the computer room - it took six weeks and a lot of shouting but finally we've done it.

We had some more toys sent out by Matt's mum (thanks Mo) which we gave to another little creche which is the TACCO overflow.

But the best thing of all was going to the village where the HIV Orphans live. We took them some toy cars and teddies. Matt and I also took some money to sponsor nine-year-old Samuella for a couple of years. We had a backpack full of pens and toys for her too. She was thrilled. It was such a poor village with the children running around in dirty underwear thrilled to see some white people. It was nice to actually see we were making a difference - sometimes it's hard to feel like that because the task is so massive and you make such a small indent.

We also have the Disabled Training Centre website up and running: www.jachiedisabledcentre.org - so if anyone is visiting Ghana - pop in and say hello. It's a great place.

It's been a tough but rewarding six months but I've done it and that's what is important.

A Jew in Ghana

IN THE BEGINNING

Being a Jew in Ghana puts you in an interesting position: well actually it puts you in no position at all because no one here has any clue about Jews or Judaism.

This is despite the fact that practically every Ghanaian I know goes to church at least once a week, reads the Bible, praises God etc. I have to admit I'm not an avid New Testament reader (or Old for that matter) but after having a quick flick through, it definitely mentions Jews and synagogues. We do exist.

This national ignorance was also proved when Matt taught an RE lesson and asked which religion Jesus was when he was born. The baffled faces of the children said it all.

In Ghana religion plays a significant part in everyone's life here: got no food - don't worry, pray and God will provide; got no money - don't worry pray and God will provide; got poor health - don't worry pray and God will provide; want the Black Stars to win the world cup - don't worry pray and God will provide. (oops God obviously had other things on his mind or is a Brazil supporter.)

So, you're beginning to get the picture.

Now with religion comes interest in which religion you are or more specifically which sort of Christianity you believe in.

So, says the latest interegator, which church do you belong to?
I face this question most days but still I linger before I answer.
Should I lie and say Methodist (that's what Matt is and it seems a safe enough answer) or should I say I don't go to church? Or should I tell the truth and actually use the J word.

Those who know me will appreciate the fact I only pause for a small amount of time - of course I'm going to tell them I'm Jewish - anything for a bit of confrontation to make the day pass quicker.

The first thing that happens is that I use a collection of words - Jew, Jewish, Judaism, just to see if I can ring any bells.
Usually not. The blank stare as they clutch their bible remains fixed.
I try and explain that it's all the Old Testament which usually leads to the incredulous comment: 'What? You don't believe in Jesus?'
Then I try explaining that we believe Jesus was a man but not the son of god. (Theologists don't kill me for this explanation - I'm no expert.)

More often than not, I get nowhere. It's an interesting position to be in. Anti-semitism is easy to deal with, being invisible takes on a whole new meaning.

But using my intrepid journalism skills (I Googled) I soon tracked down what claimed to be the only Jewish village in Ghana. And they were just three hours away.
Excellent!

TO THE VILLAGE

So off I went to meet 'my' people. I arrived on Friday night but failed to make contact with David - the only name and number I had. Not deterred, I holed up in a posh hotel with my Theology Major fellow volunteer to wait until morning.
As the sun rose, we jumped in a taxi and asked to be taken to 'New Town' the area of the village that was home to the synagogue and Jewish community. Unsurprisingly, the taxi driver hadn't heard of it. Or Jews, Judaism, synagogue, Jewish church - nothing. We stopped for directions and eventually made our way.

Uttering apologies, we stumbled into the synagogue. It was a pleasingly simple building with a few benches. At the front of the room was a table covered by a cloth with the words 'Shalom' embroidered on in childlike hand and a menorah either side. So far, so Jewish. At the table, sat two men wearing tallis and kippot. A stack of siddurs was on a bench. This was definitely the place!

We sat and waited for the service to begin. There were only a couple of men and five children but they began anyway. At first they sang a song which I didn't recognise. Then they proceeded with the Shabbat service - in English. There was no Hebrew, except for a couple of lines written in phonetics on the English page of the siddur.
Even the Shema which I was eagerly waiting for was in English.

As the service proceeded more and more men, women and children drifted in. Excellent - everyone was late. I felt more at home immediately.
Soon there were about four women, eight men and 12 children. Not exactly packed but considering there are only 13 families in the community - not bad.

The service continued with a bit of bible study. David - who is head of the community - read out passages from the Old Testament and Kofi - his brother - explained them. Well, sort of. As the Theology Major pointed out, he really didn't have a clue what he was saying and didn't really know who Aaron or the Levites (who we were discussing) were.
Hmmm. I sensed a stumbling block.

We were made to stand up and introduce ourselves to the community who looked at us quite blankly. I get the impression they are used to foreign Jews coming to gawp at them.

After the two hour service we were invited back to David and Kofi's house. They reprimanded us for staying at the posh hotel and said we should stay there. Give up our satellite TV (it was the World Cup), electricity, hot and running water, expansive bed and A/C - I think not - I am a Jew after all.
We declined politely and asked if it was possible to take photos. We were quickly told that it was Shabbat so no photography and no writing. Ooops my lax diaspora Jewish ways were coming out already.

We arranged an early morning meeting the next day and scurried off back to our posh hotel to watch the football.

Minutes later a man from the village visited us and presented us with letter.
It was a petition from the Jewish Community asking David and Kofi to step down as leaders because of corruption. They accused them of squirrelling away visitors in their home and taking their money and gifts instead of sharing them with the community (luckily I'd only brought them a packet of biscuits and am pretty sure there was no fighting over those). And apparently they had taken a computer that had been donated by some Americans to teach the children in the community to their own home. Only their children could use it and now it was broken.

I didn't know if any of the accusations were true but there were about 15 signatures.
It was sad as there is so much corruption in the churches here, I hoped the Jews would be different. I took heart from the fact that at least they were holding their leaders to task.

I went back the following morning to take a few pictures but David and Kofi told me the synagogue had been boarded up and the key given to the local police until the conflict had been sorted out.

They seemed quite calm about the situation. They told me about the man who had established the community in 1977. He had asked David to take over as leader from him before he died. They explained how everyone in the region had followed Jewish customs: Keeping the sabbath on Saturday, not eating pig, lighting candles, circumcising their sons. But soon christianity became the easier way to live so the Jewish way of life died out. Only when this man came and established a synagogue with some support of some Americans - who send out books, prayers shawls and other paraphernalia - did a few families follow Judaism again.

I left undecided as to whether these people were Jewish or not - as is the current debate with the community who describe themselves as the lost tribe. Their following of the Old Testament and traditions and customs probably leads me to an affirmative answer. But I felt no real connection with them: Their ways were still Ghanaian first and foremost, so was their food, habits, nature etc. There was no identifying over our favourite bagel filling or how good chopped liver really was.
I felt as much an outsider as I had in any church.

But I was glad I went to visit and for a few hours at least I didn't have to explain my religion to anyone.

Happy Birthday to me!!

Friday was my birthday - so thanks to everyone who sent me lots of birthday messages - and those of you who didn't, well I'm sure that means you have a nice big present waiting for me when I get home!

I managed to make big sacrifices on my bday and get to the beach. It was beautiful: fresh pineapple juice, palm trees, an outside loo...well, nothing's perfect. It was great because I managed to drag a few people along so in the end there was about 10 of us - not bad for an impromptu gathering.

Now we're back in Kumasi where I have developed a mystery illness: mainly in the form of an aversion to food and feeling sick. There have been wide speculations (none of them medical) that I have anything ranging from Malaria to worms...excellent I'm a loser on every count. I hope it's not worms because I remember that from when I was small and I had to drink some foul tasting liquid which I threw up in the toilet.

But there is a Ghanaian joke about having worms:
Man 1: 'That dog has worms.'
Man 2: Do dogs get worms too?'


Oh, and the electricity to our house has been cut off - something about not paying a bill. Now down to no running water and no electricity.

Six days and counting.

Accepting lifts from strange men...

...yes, your mother is right - it can be a bad idea!

Matt and I went away for the weekend (to a little village which apparently has the only Jews in Ghana living there - more on that later).

Sitting in our hotel bar later, a strange, short, rotound Armenian man appeared. Coincidentally he was also going back to Kumasi and offered us a lift.
It was a Sunday so there were not many tro-tros around and, as I've said many times before, tro-tros really are just mobile coffins.

Matt and I jumped at the offer and then jumped into the back of his truck. The Armeninan slid into his seat next to his driver. And next to a bloody big loaded shotgun.

'Erm, that's a big gun,' Matt said in a small voice.
'Ahh I use zat to shoot in ze bush,' The Armanian said.

We were quiet. What or who did he shoot in the bush? We didn't like to ask. It was almost like being kidnapped by a baddie from a James Bond film - except obviously there was no kidnapping and it wasn't a film.

An hour or so into the journey The Armenian pulled out his flick knife - blade approx 6 inches - and started flicking it open and closed as we bounced along the uneven roads. Lethal weapon number two we calculated from the back seat.

But luckily, apart from complaining his flick knife wasn't flicking fast enough, no harm came to either of us and we were delivered safely to our door.

See how exciting even a simple lift home can be in Ghana?

Football... a dangerous game

Monday saw the epic game between Ghana Black Stars and Italy in the World Cup.

Obviously Matt and I went to the bar with the biggest screen (projected onto a wall) wearing as much stupid Ghana paraphernalia as possible.

It wasn't the best result with Ghana losing to Italy by 2 goals. But then someone (not us) deigned to say that Ghana had played badly. This offended the patriotism of some people in the bar and a fight broke out. Punches were flying, glasses were smashed, tables got overturned: it was just like being in England!

It was quite scary too as we weren't really sure what was happening and there was a big stampede for the door.

Then afterwards we were just loitering around outside before going home when I fell down a hole and twisted my ankle. I'd only had one pineapple juice (maybe it was the twist of ginger that did it).

It was quite bad - I thought I'd broken it at first. I did my ususal overreaction trick of going white, practically passing out, nearly being sick etc.
My foot swelled up to the size of an elephant's and turned blue with bruising.
I've been layed up in the house for two days straight with lots of Ghanaians poking and prodding it and occasionally giving it a good wrench - when in Ghana make sure you poke and move any part of the body that could be in pain or injured.

I've bravely hobbled to the internet today - mainly because the boredom and claustrophobia is paining me more than my foot.

However, the whole evening once again confirmed to me why I don't like football.

Three weeks and counting...

I'm actually staring my return flight in the face - well nearly.
It's just three weeks left and then I'm out of here.
But there is no sign of anything slowing down:

We had a nutrition report at the creche and 10 out of the 60 children registered were found to be malnourished - two of them very seriously. It's quite heartbreaking. The main signs are stunting (not growing), low weight and wasting. It's hard to know what to do as they only have one meal a day at the creche and eat at home the rest of the time.
We have visited the local hospital and spoken to the Head of Nutrition who actually carried out the report. He has said he will conduct a lesson for all the parents explaining what food to give their children and advise them on portion sizes. Apparently all children under one year have vitamin supplements provided by the Government, but obviously these aren't enough. Unfortunately it's not a matter of buying them lots of food - it's unsustainable - ie: I could feed these kids for the three weeks I have left but then what happens? We're trying to encourage the women at the creche to give them fruit a couple of times a week but money is tight and although they've said they will I'm not sure it will actually happen.

But there has been some movement on the HIV project I've been working on. I met Isaac and Sister Rose, two nurses who work at the local hospital and they introduced us to a 70-year-old woman who is looking after her four grandchildren, whose parents have died of AIDS. TACCO have fundraised sponsorship to help the family out and we were able to give her money to buy health insurance and pay for the kids school uniforms and books and some money towards housekeeping. It was really rewarding. We are going to visit her and the children in their village next week and also meet another possible recipient of sponsorship - a women who is struggling to bring up two children orphaned by AIDS.

Also, we are trying to start funding for an antiretroviral drug treatment programme. Basically the drugs to keep people with HIV alive cost 50,000 cedis (three pounds fifty) a month, but many of them can't afford it. They need this treatment for the rest of their lives, so even if they can scrape together the first few months, it very rarely lasts. It's criminal to think that 40 pounds a year can keep someone alive and I used to spend that on a night out!

So while I'm facing probably the most upsetting/heart wrenching part of my experience, it is in some ways the most rewarding. I'm hoping to keep working on the sponsorship project when I get back to the UK - so if anyone is interested in learning more about it/sponsoring some drug treatment/sponsoring a family (which costs around 50 pounds a year but I would have to check for sure) just get in touch and let me know.

Rattling...like a bottle of pills

I've noticed that my last couple of entries have sounded quite negative, so I should probably explain why my rose tinted glasses may have slipped slightly.

For the last week I've been a bit ill with a cold. Unfortunately in Ghana if you are ill for more than 12 hours with anything everyone assumes it's malaria. So after holding out for four whole days, I eventually went to the hospital.
After comforting words from the doctor assuring me I wasn't too sick and it probably wasn't malaria, he has gone on to prescribe me:
Malaria tablets - (I haven't had the blood test yet - it's tomorrow)
Stomach pain tablets - DR: "Any stomach pain?" Me: "No".
General pain killers - Dr: "Any pain anywhere else?" Me: "No".
Imunex - absolutely no friggin' idea what that does.

So in summary, he has no idea what's wrong with me but wants me to take 17 tablets today and then 14 a day for the next week...

I think I might just take my chances on the fact I have a cold.

Revolution at Jachie

One might be tempted to believe that as a volunteer in Ghana your efforts to help improve society, education and give hope and opportunity to the next generation, would be welcomed with open arms. But you would be wrong.

The situation in Jachie is currently thus: There is a fully stocked computer room with approximately 30 computers. Also, provided by the truly wonderful NGO, TACCO, are two computer teachers/experts, software especially designed for the education of children and all bills such as electricity are fully paid.

Now all the schools have to do is accept TACCO's invitation to use the computer room free of charge - which they all have. All good so far you may think.
Enter the District Director of Education AKA The witch: She has decided that the computer room is a disruptive influence on the children's timetable and all computer lessons must therefore be stopped until she decides they are no longer disruptive.

This is laughable. Just small knowledge of the Ghana education system will tell you that rarely do teachers turn up on time for lessons, if at all. Children will have their lessons cancelled on a whim so they can weed the school grounds instead and often they have timetabled lessons, such as music and dance, but with no teacher to teach it. Yes, she may have a point; the lessons will be disrupting the usual school timetable but in a POSITIVE way.

Anyway, we are glad to report that one of the schools is openly defying the District Witch and are insisting on attending computer lessons anyway!
1 - TACCO
0 - The Witch

Lies, lies, damned lies

Ghana's a funny place to be if you're a white person. For a start they never tire of pointing out to you that you have white skin - adults and children alike. Also, they never deem it to be rude to holler from across the street - 'white man'.
But along with white skin goes white money and this is also not ignored.
Not only do we get charged white man prices for things, we often get: 'White man give me some money. White man, I am hungry - give me some money to buy food.'

These requests come whether we are walking down a street or sitting down eating our dinner or having a drink. Often when the asker has more time they will elaborate on their hardship to squeeze us for more money. Often these are able bodied, intelligent, youthful individuals who are perfectly capable of working.

I know I'm sounding quite heartless about this but I will try to explain why (although in my own defence I do give money to people on the street who are disabled as they are generally shunned by their own society).

EVERYBODY asks us for money - when I taught in the school, my school children would; where we lived in Bawdie, the staff of the guesthouse would tell us how hungry they were and how they had no money; random people in the street shout out to us everyday. People pretend to be our friends, just to get anything they can get from us.
It's hard to know who you can trust. Luckily the family we stay with now would never dream of asking us for anything and we have made a few friends we can trust. But just to explain the depths people will sink to, read on:

We work in the computer room on our project. Every day, a 20-year-old called Georgina comes and learns computers. We speak to her, sometimes we share our lunch with her, have bought her a drink at a spot etc.

Then one Monday she told me she was feeling terrible as her Grandmother had died that weekend. She was upset (obviously) but also because her mother was dead and her grandmother supported her. Now she didn't know what she was going to do for money, for food, for a place to live - and she had the funeral to organise. The tears glistened in her eyes as she pleaded for money and food - she was so hungry she told me.
I felt awful - but Matt and I have this rule to help us through the constant requests for money - we can only help organisations not individuals - because there are too many individuals out there.
But this was different surely. We shared our lunch with her and later I spoke to Matt asking him if we should make an exception in Georgina's case as she was so upset and to lose a family member is distressing.

But, call us cynical, both of us weren't sure if the story was true, so we asked Bernard - the man in charge of the computer centre. He said he hadn't heard but he would investigate.
The next day we learned - it was all a LIE! She had made it up just to see how much money she could get out of us! Her grandmother hadn't died - she was just trying to make a withdrawal out of the walking ATM machines that we are seen as here!