Finding my feet

Hello everyone!

I have some very exciting news! As I told you in my last post, I have been asked to write a research paper on a topic of my choice, as long what I cover comes under the mandate of the CHRAJ. I have been speaking to a few people here to get some insight into what they hold to be pertinent human rights issues in Ghana, and ones that I could feasibly do some research on. Initially I thought about doing something along the lines of access to legal aid for remand prisoners, but from what I have gathered the amount of red tape involved would mean I would spend more time writing letters and being denied access than I actually would be visiting prisons or doing anything close to useful.

I was just speaking to a gentleman at the office called Michael, and I told him all about my involvement over the past few years with the Refugee Council in Leeds. He told me that there is a Liberian refugee camp called Buduburam about 60km from Accra which he would be happy to escort me to if I can arrange a meeting with the regional UNHCR (UN High Commissioner for Refugees) office, which is based at the camp. He said he would also be happy to accompany me to Accra if I was able to arrange a meeting with the Ghanaian director there. There are also several Ivorian refugee camps in the Western Region of Ghana (Cape Coast is in the Central Region), which I may be able to get accompanied access to if I can butter up the UNHCR and establish a contact there. I am so excited about the latter part, being that my main interest throughout my degree was transitional justice, and being that the Ivorian civil war is very fresh history it would be amazing to catch a glimpse of things whilst the situation is essentially still transitioning. I’ll keep you posted!

Things are generally quiet at the office. The mandate of the Commission is broad but the outreach is difficult due to an enormous lack of funding. So aside from the packed and daunting schedule that I told you about in the last email, I have a lot of time to do desk based research for this paper I am to submit before I leave. My working day is between 0830-1600, but I only really spend about fifteen minutes of that time being told what to do. The rest of the time I am reading reports that I have requested or chatting to other staff members about their experiences working here. People are incredibly friendly and will just walk into my office and shout ‘Araba Jessica! How are you?’ That translates to ‘Tuesday-born Jessica’ – one is allocated a different name in Fante depending on your gender and day you were born.

I can hear seagulls (well, they’re not really seagulls, but I s’pose Ghanaian cousins of the seagulls I have met before), gospel music, crashing waves and beeping cars from my office window. The colours are bright and the smells are a mixture of the fresh pineapples and mangos that are sold by street vendors, pollution from cars, fish just caught and the raw sewage that runs in open gullies down the side of the road. The gullies are about half a metre deep and covered with flimsy planks of wood that act as makeshift bridges when you have to jump out of the way from a beeping car that is driving on the wrong side of the road. I am so scared I am going to fall in one day, as apparently Obrunis like me frequently do. I get an hour for lunch and have so far frequented the same street vendor, Janet, who cooks up gut-busting portions of cabbage and spring onion omelettes wedged between slices of fried brioche for just less than 55pence. Don’t knock it, it’s AWESOME.

I have made a friend at work called Solomey (it takes me every bit of conscious effort to not call her Salami by accident). She is doing her 12 months of national service at the Commission and is my age. She is taking me for ‘red red’ on our lunch today (rice, beans in a spicy sauce and fried plantain). She asked me how old I was yesterday, and when I replied she gasped “But you are so fat for 22!”. Thanks, Salami. It was later explained to me that your weight is a good measure for age in Ghana – the older you are, the more successful you are assumed to be, the fatter you become. I guess that is almost a compliment then.

After my radio interview tomorrow (bricking it) there is a post-Christmas party at work that I will be attending. Titi, the man I am reporting to, asked me what type of alcohol I like. Assuming that the party would take place after work, I asked him if I could still get a tro-tro in the evening (the type of taxi that has a spanner as a steering wheel), to which he replied “there is no need. The party is at 10am.” Should be a fun day schwitzing out local brews then.

I guess I have bored you enough with my news, so bore me with some of yours. It makes me so happy to get your emails, and I will try to reply to some individually as well as sending these group ones.

Lots and lots of love,

Jess xxx