Xango Goodness

I want to put my arms around the people of Ghana. They still linger in my mind, they still wave to me from my car window, they still exist in my heart. Those children have the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen. They are happy, truly happy. As a foreigner here I can see from the outside the lives and people from mostly fresh eyes. I see that our ideas about Africa are wrong. Sure, they have less than we do, but I don’t think they care as much as we think they do. They aren’t wallowing in self-pity and they aren’t waiting for a hand—out. . They want to learn how to help themselves. They understand that we have knowledge to share and their humility is baffling. Speaking with Ghanaians I learned that they understand they don’t need us, but they want us. They want our support, our knowledge - but most importantly they want us as their friends. I heard many people refer to the public health initiative as “fishing lessons.” Even the Ghanaians understand that phrase and appreciate its meaning. We are not just applying a band-aid and walking away with our African romance in our pockets, we are teaching them to fish.

It was so neat to see the parents stand in line in the hot sun with all of their kids, 10 and under, to make sure that they got through the clinic before we left. I was also amazed at how well the mothers had kept up on each child’s medical chart. They were kept carefully wrapped up in homemade cardboard folders, which the mothers handled like plates of gold. The kids were either very intrigued with me, or freaked out that the ghost was smiling at them! (We were told that they thought we were ghosts because of our lack of pigment and whiteness of our skin.)

I was happy to eventually win over a little girl’s trust by handing her a capped pen to play with and acting like I wasn’t interested in her. She played with it for a moment, and then reached up to me. I think she was 2 or 3. She was beautiful, dressed in an all white cotton eyelet outfit, covered in sequins. She had beautiful ebony skin and big, chocolate brown eyes. She really liked my straight blonde hair, kept stroking it saying something in Twi, but, she didn’t like my eyeglasses. She took those off my face immediately. I held her for a precious half hour before her mother showed up and took her. The children are so beautiful here, and they grow into beautiful and strong adults. At every village I am in awe of the strength and the pride that these people carry themselves with. It has been a beautiful and life-changing experience to see the world without the rose-colored glasses, and get out of myself and serve others. In return, I have taken so much home with me – memories, new friends, and a new perspective of Ghana’s people and its beauty. I left part of my heart in Ghana. I don’t feel I will ever quite be the same.

Marbang is a small village a few miles from Barekuma. The children there are not as used to Obrunis as the Barekuma and Barekese kids are. The malaria clinic that we ran today did over 125 examinations. I was stationed in the exam classroom (mud walls, rectangular holes that serve as windows, and bright green string to serve as stanchions), again… as the crowd control. Mel doing crowd control: maybe it’s because I’m not easily rattled. Maybe it’s because I love to be around the Ghanaians. Or - maybe it’s because they get a kick out of how terrified the babies are of the redhead that wears another set of dark eyes on top of her head (we call them sunglasses).

The clinic had stages: registration, vitals, exams, lab and finally pharmacy. I spent the bus ride counting out a few thousand pills of folic acid into small ziploc baggies - quantities of 60 each. Then spent 20 minutes creating make-shift measuring tapes on wood posts for the vitals. Then spent 20 minutes observing the process to find holes to fix. Then… 3+ hours with the doctors and residents doing exams. These children had herniated umbilical cords; it looks like someone is pushing their belly buttons out from the inside like a balloon. The malaria rate was over 70% and several children were given additional attention because of various issues. Since our goal was to assess the malaria epidemic, we felt like today was very successful. One thing that touched me today was how many men brought their children. I expected it to be primarily women with their children, but was quite wrong. The men are involved and engaging with their children… and quite sweet. Made me smile.

Today, we were in the village Barekuma doing the long awaited Schistosomiasis testing that the University of Utah Public Health Program has been preparing for. The project was to collect urine samples from everyone in the village 3 years and older. The urine samples would tell if any of the villagers had the Schisto parasite that resides locally in snails and the rivers. From my understanding, the parasite enters your body through the skin, and can make you very sick. Interestingly enough, a few days before, we had walked by a river full of the Schisto parasite and it was filled with happy, playful kids swimming and splashing.

The clinic that day went something like this: Melanee Raynes, a fellow co-worker I accompanied on the trip, and a Public Health student helped man the doors as traffic control. They were amazing. This was one of the most stressful jobs, as there really isn’t a concept of lines in the village we were working with, and we don’t speak a single word of the language. Melanee learned some tricks very quickly though, and soon had some order to that section. As each villager reached her, they were given a sample cup and a sticker with a number. Then they came through registration, where I was stationed. Luckily, I was paired with a student from the University in Kumasi, and he conducted a survey as he registered each family. I was so impressed as I saw over and over again, women bringing in as many as 11 kids, and finding out that she was taking care of hers as well as her sister’s children.
They then left to fill the cup, and eventually brought it back to the lab that was set up in another room. It was amazing to see how important this was to the villagers. The elders of the village brought in stray children to make sure they were tested for this disease. They were extremely

We have the cool opportunity to do some census work in Adamkwame and Barekese this week, two villages surrounding Barekuma.  A guide from the village came with us, GPS tracking unit in hand and helped us walk from house to house.  Our job is to record the numbers on each structure along with the waypoints from the GPS unit, so that the communities can be mapped.  These maps will allow us to track the test results from medical clinics we hold, pinpoint what and where disease is, and determine cause. For example, we’ll be able to look at a malaria outbreak in a specific area, and then determine a cause, such as a nearby mosquito infested pond .

I was in a group with a man named Appiah.  He is one of the Assemblymen and next in line to be Chief of his village.  He is an amazing man, coordinator of  many of the projects we are assisting with…he is what here in the states we would call “hardcore.”  Appiah had a sprained ankle when I met him, and as it was also hot and extremely humid that day, I thought to myself we might go a little easier.   Ha. Think again, Ms. Summers.  Remember – I called Appiah “hardcore”.  This man took off and didn’t blink an eye.

We went from home to home, me trying to keep up.  Appiah would walk into the yard of a home, say “Ma Che” (Good Morning) and introduce us with a brief explanation of the project we were undertaking. Then he would record the waypoints as I scrambled to quickly write them down.  By the end of the days work, I was the wettest I have ever been in my life, but Appiah was grinning from ear to ear as we realized we were the first to finish our assigned area.  What did I learn today?  Determination? Check.  Motivation? Check.  The Ghanaian people we met know what they want. They want their villages on a map, and I don’t think anything could have stopped us from accomplishing what we did today.  Again, I haven’t ceased to be amazed at this place and its people.  It’s beautiful, even in a sweat-soaked shirt.

I got the joke shovel. I was so excited to get dirty, to make a tangible and immediate difference… so I picked up an unused shovel and sidled up alongside a villager. I heard some snickering as I started to push the shovel into the orangish-red dirt. The tip of the shovel bent – I think it was an aluminum shovel. Not a refined aluminum, maybe old soda cans aluminum. My frustration was immediately cheered as the group of Ghanaians laughed full-force at the stubborn redhead. I knew it was a bum shovel, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I used the side of the shovel and pushed more than scooped the dirt. The laughing got louder. I pushed the dirt with my foot and pretended to break up the clumps so the shovel could get it. More laughter. At this point, I felt like a clown, I was purposely egging them on and they were definitely enjoying it. Five minutes and two gallons of sweat later, I let out a sigh and stuck the shovel in the ground with frustration. The laughing slowed a bit until a man, in broken English, offered me a “Starbucks.” Then they roared. I gave in, laughed with them, got a few slaps on the back, and was relieved of my digging. The snaking string that was meant to guide the digging of the trench was slowly being etched away at. We will be back tomorrow to see how the Ghanaians finish up this project. We aren’t here to dig it for them, just to show them how and why and let them do it for themselves. Luckily, they see the value and are excited and eager to get this project done.

We worked in the school again today, and afterwards took a tour of the village. A small mass of Obruni’s (white people) surrounded by a bigger mass of local children must have been quite a sight for the adults working in the village. I had at least four children on my arms and holding my hands for the entire tour. These children are so affectionate and observant. They have no personal space issues or “stranger danger” concerns like we do. It was like they knew from the get-go that I meant them no harm, and they were drawn to me. My favorite part was when they licked their fingers and wiped my arm… trying to clean the white from my skin. I laughed out loud and they laughed back at me.

We made our way past the community latrine, which was to be our next project. Down the hill from the latrine lies the village well. The project we are going to work on is a new gravity-force community latrine for the village, so part of the tour was to scope out what we were going to be facing as we prepared for the work we will be facing tomorrow. Dr. Scott (the water specialist), gave us a short lesson about the dangers of an open well such as this one. He gave us a short summary of the plans the village had for this well and how the public health group was going to assist the village to make this a cleaner water source, and how we would help make that happen by digging a trench for a new latrine that would not be a threat to the clean water well.

Today I fell in love with Africa. Immediately upon arrival I felt a difference in the air. No, not the humidity (although that was a shock to my Utah skin), but is was the people and their response to me. I was greeted with genuine smiles, kind helpfulness and a true interest in me as a person – it went beyond the typical, and rhetorical, “Hi, how are you?” When they ask a question like that, they really want to know how you are doing, even if it means an honest answer and a story to follow.

I feel as if I have stepped into another world. Our project today was in a local elementary school.. A school from Sandy, UT has spearheaded a project of partnership with the Barekuma school. Literacy packets, matching games, alphabet kits, etc. were brought in and we worked with the teachers to introduce some new ideas about teaching. The teachers were excited for the “creative” approaches to teaching and the students ate it up. Theses kids are so smart and it’s obvious how much the community values education. Parents checked in on us, other teachers wanted to observe, even the Headmaster came to show his support. The parents have to purchase all the school supplies for their kids (even whatever texts are available, which are very few), and it’s obvious that they do without on other things so their kids have the best they can get.