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

In at the deep end

Hello everyone!

Just thought I would write a quick update. Even though I have only been here 48hrs I feel like I have so much to tell you all! 

So I arrived at 0530 on Monday morning to a 28*C Accra. The flight was fine - managed to sleep most of the way. I was really nervous to meet Emmanuel, my contact, and I had no idea how I would be getting to the house 4 hours away in the Cape Coast. There was a big sign at passport checks that read: "All paedophiles, rapists and homosexuals, please turn back now, you are not welcome". It was a lot to take in before breakfast (Virgin Atlantic ran out of meals, bastards), but I realised that I am on this trip to tolerate intolerances, so I put my best foot forward. When I got through arrivals I saw a smiley faced Emmanuel holding a sign with my name on it - I felt like a rockstar. He gave me a big hug which instantly relaxed me and we made our way to his car. How do I explain the driving in Ghana? Hmmm.... Put it this way, I stayed awake.

Accra is like any other capital city in a developing country - loud, busy, dirty, hot, overwhelming, dusty, under construction. I was glad to eventually get out of the traffic and drive into loud, relaxed (but still busy), tropical, green, humid, hot and overwhelming Cape Coast. The house that I am living in is massive. It is is a small village called Kwaprow, just off the UCC (University of Cape Coast) campus. There are goats, chickens and little Ghanaian children running about everywhere, all shouting Obruni (white girl) at me and giggling. The children that is, I'm not that jet-lagged! The house has 8 bedrooms with bunkbeds, so myself and the other three interns are lucky enough to have our own rooms. One of the girls is an American called Jen who has been here since October and is pretty much an honourary Ghanaian. She has been showing me the ropes and has been really generous answering all of my millions of questions! She is doing an internship with an organisation that focuses on public health. The other girl is Russian, half Burundian and is called Jenya. She is doing a placement at an orphanage just out of town. The third girl, Bianca, is half Jamaican and half Guyanan and is doing sexual and reproductive health placement. It's nice that we all do different placements so that we are not in each others hair all day and in the evening too, and there is an enormous degree of independence involved at our placements. There is a lady called Fati who is the housekeeper, she lives in the house and spends the evenings chilling with us which is nice. There is no running water, the house uses the 'if it's yellow' method to conserve water and all washing needs to be done out of buckets. There is electricity though which is great, and I have bought myself a USB internet modem thingy for fairly cheap which is how I can post this now.

To get to my placement in the mornings I have to walk or take a shared taxi (like a public bus, but smaller) to the UCC campus, and then take another shared taxi into town. The building in which my office is located is right next door (and I mean RIGHT next door) so one of Ghana's most famous landmarks - the Cape Coast castle. This is the one of the oldest and biggest slave forts in West Africa. This castle was the main holding pen and pick up point for African slaves to be taken across the Atlantic by the Dutch, British and Portuguese. My orientation included a tour of the castle which was harrowing. It is somewhat of a pilgrimage for many African American's and Caribbean's to come and visit the castle, and I got several unfriendly glares from some Rastas on the tour when I asked a question with an English accent. On the whole, though, people are unbelievably friendly and welcoming. The town is also incredibly safe, everyone I speak to says I shouldn't worry at all about even walking around alone at night. I get the impression that the culture is incredibly proud and protective - if someone were to attempt to hurt the lone Obruni in public, they would get mobbed by disapproving onlookers. 

What else can I tell you? Ah yes, my placement. Well, I have been thrown in at the deep end! I have my own desk, but am sharing an office with a gentleman named Titi. He is who I will be reporting to during my stay here. He gave me a schedule of tasks today, which covers me up until I leave. It reads:

• Take part in at least 15 mediation sessions
• Take part in local radio programme discussions at 'Yes FM' and 'ATL FM' every Friday morning
• Take part in public education programme at schools and colleges
• Take part in basic human rights course for health professionals at Ankaful and Cape Coast colleges
• Present a research paper on any topic of your interest relating to human rights and administrative justice in Ghana
• Exit interview with the executive director in Accra

I almost fell over when he said I would have a radio interview this Friday, where I will have to discuss for around 20 minutes my opinion of administrative justice in the UK (public officials being held to account, etc). Suppose I better start research NOW. Tips/ideas welcome.

It would be lovely to hear from you all. I am overwhelmed by this place and hope I will settle in - I am feeling homesick at the moment but am enjoying myself.

Lots of love,

Jess