Akwaaba, ete sen?

I am writing from the city of Accra, capital of Ghana and my home for the next nine months. I'm sure you may be wondering exactly what Ghana is like and there are a hundred stories I could share from my first month. But I could never adequately portray Ghana in an email. Things like climate (yes it's hot and humid), geography, food and music take a backstage to the people of Ghana; to know Ghanaians is to know Ghana.

I cannot think of a better way to tell you about the people of Ghana than to describe my first night alone in Alajo, the neighbourhood where I live:

Stepping out of my hotel I realize it is now night; the day doesn't take its time coming and going as it does in the north. Seeing no need to linger the sun leaves unceremoniously, it knows it will be back in force tomorrow.

This neighbourhood, Alajo, is a symphony of sights, sounds, and smells. I breath in the heavy air, the humid heat of the tropics penetrates, my body still adjusting to the fact it's dark and yet still hot. Passing cars, barking dogs and people conversing along the busy street bring my ears to attention. Ripe bananas and oranges, the acrid smoke of kerosene candles and rubbish fires, open sewers and the musty trace of the tropics serve to confuse and stimulate my sense of smell. In a place like this your awareness is heightened, senses confused and intrigued, attracted and repulsed all at the same time; this is the experience that only a city in the developing world can deliver.

As I walk, thinking about my home for the next nine months, I hear it, “Obruni” (White man); but it doesn't sound quite like the excited 'Ooo-bruni' that the children call as I walk in the day; this is deeper, more ambiguous. I snap out of my trance, but in the darkness and haze features of dark faces meld and fade, but the eyes grow bright, shining pure white against the black night. I look, but can't tell who it was. At night it's hard to read expressions; I wonder what people think of me here, what would an Obruni like me be doing in a neighbourhood like this perhaps.

I walk past stands, trying to figure out what to buy for dinner, I warn myself to not get sick during my first week, remembering a friend who caught salmonella in the first weeks of his stay in Ghana, most likely from one of the stalls along this street. I notice a woman frying something in a pot of oil. She sees me looking and immediately I hear “Obruni, you are welcome. How are you?” and I reply by showing off the little Twi that I know. She responds “Obruni wo te Twi?!” (white man you speak Twi?), accompanied by a warm smile and exultations in Twi for me to sit (I can only tell what she means from her exaggerated gestures).

Waiting for what turns out to be fried plantains, the Ghanaian equivalent of french fries, I'm treated to an impromptu Twi lesson from the owner's daughter. Happy with my purchase, I wander back towards the hotel picking up some other treats along the way. As I wander many more people greet me with many questions 'what are you doing here?', 'where do you stay?', sometimes mistaking me for my friends who previously lived here, but always one common message 'Akwaaba you are welcome'.

Approaching the hotel I think about looking for Christy; a fruit vendor and a good friend to past EWB volunteers in Accra. I've misplaced the map and picture I was given to find her, but I know she is an orange seller somewhere in the vicinity of the hotel. I decide to take a chance and cross the street and buy some oranges, sheepishly asking if the vendor would happen to be Christy. Immediately her expression becomes animated and "yes, you must be Tom, Mike told me you would be coming. I thought you would be here earlier." We sit and talk through our joint friends - we already know something about each other.

To me Christy exemplifies the generosity and warmth common amongst Ghanaians. She works 15 hour days, finishing each day selling oranges to make a couple of extra dollars to pay for her son's education. Despite her lack of material wealth Christy steadfastly refuses to let me pay when I visit her stand, won't let me visit her house without having something to eat and makes sure I have actually learned how to wash my clothes (the Ghanaians had a good laugh the first time I tried). To some it may seem odd that she feels compelled to help me, an Obruni. She surely knows I have the financial resources to get by without problem and certainly many may expect that she must see some payoff in the future. But from my experience and that of my friends before me in Ghana, it's something entirely different.

She told me "when you come to Ghana, you are alone, you have no family, so someone has to take care of you, make sure you are alright." That first night in Alajo she introduced me to Enock who works next door and took me halfway across Alajo to track down Kwame, another friend of Mike's who may very well be the best drummer in Ghana (though he refuses to claim any higher than the sixth or seventh best).

So within an hour of meeting Christy I had myself a Ghanaian family of sorts. Christy makes sure I'm well fed, Enock has me hiding behind businesses while he tries to get me a lower price than is charged to an Obruni on essentials and Kwame has shown me the better part of Accra.

Life in Accra is good, I just moved into an apartment after a four week search. I'm beginning to learn Twi and will start drum lessons soon. All in all, I'm well, settled and happy.

Well that's all for now, hope you all are well and I would love to hear how everyone is doing,

Die Yie (Goodnight),

Kwabena Piecie (Tom)

For most Canadians, the image that comes to mind when one thinks of a development worker is of a young westerner in the blazing African sun with a shovel in hand or surrounded by children at a school teaching English - rarely, perhaps never, do we think of a development worker as someone sitting in front of a computer.

When I found out that I had been selected by EWB to work in Ghana on the Multifunctional Platform (MFP) project I was thrilled. I imagined myself in communities helping to install the MFPs and working directly with community members to integrate the device into daily life. I was eager to take part in such an exciting project and was happy to leave desk jobs behind in Canada.

The MFP, a diesel engine that can power various agro-processing machinery such as a corn mill and oil press, has the potential to ease the burden on rural women through mechanizing tedious agricultural tasks that consume much of their daily life. I was excited to see the results.

When I arrived, the Kumasi Institute for Technology and Environment (KITE), with whom I am working, was in the midst of negotiations with the project donor and promised that the contract would soon be finalized for the three-year project. As soon as that happened I would be out in the field working with MFPs on the ground and helping KITE to develop an implementation model that would work in Ghana.

In the meantime, KITE asked that I review the budget and project documentation, emphasizing that some fresh eyes might help to speed-up getting the official project approval. I wondered exactly what I could contribute to a project with a budget close to a million dollars working in a country and communities I had only just begun to understand.

But I was surprised to find out that I actually had a lot to contribute - even if for a few months it was behind a desk and not out in communities installing the device. While I certainly didn't have answers for all the problems KITE was encountering in the budget approval process, I was able to ask a lot of questions that helped KITE reassess some of the assumptions that were made when they started working on the proposal a year earlier.

I'm sure KITE felt as though they had brought in an auditor and not an engineer with all of the questions I asked. I was able to work with KITE's staff to not only make the necessary changes to the budget, but also to help them develop a framework for creating future budgets.

When I think back to last summer, when I was anxiously preparing to leave for Ghana, I could have hardly imagined that I would be spending so much of my first year in Ghana reviewing program plans and budgets.

But I am confident that by helping KITE develop an effective strategy and secure the much-needed resources, I have had a positive impact on the 50 communities that will benefit from the project. It may not be the most glamorous or exciting work, and certainly was not what I expected, but I know that long after I leave Ghana, the solid foundation built for this project will enable KITE to reach its full potential in alleviating poverty.