Gardeners' World

Gardeners’World- tree nursery.

Welcome!

My neighbour, James, has a tree nursery: it’s a commercial enterprise, operating adjacent to the family compound, covering an area about 25 metres by 30 metres.

Seedling trees- some of the thousands in James' nursery

Creating compost, fertilized by the family’s hens, prepared soil is packed into polythene sleeves, and seeds, collected from the nursery’s mahogany, mango, neme and pawpaw trees, are sown in threes, fours or fives, to be thinned later after germination. Water comes via the family’s well, is hand pumped into a wheel barrow, then distributed with watering cans twice each day. It’s a time and labour consuming business, given as often as possible to the younger men in the household, and vital for plant survival during the parched dry season which lasts from October until April.

The water is manually pumped up from the well

James learned the techniques of horticulture from Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) but in particular credits a previous volunteer from the USA Peace Corps, Dusty, who took James across borders to Burkina Faso, and later, through Togo to Benin, to observe and practice the skills which would suit northern Ghana’s seasons.  Then bulk orders from the EPA for thousands of seedling trees, to be used as windbreaks and for shade, around public projects, plus to secure soil and prevent desertification, (The Sahara desert is spreading) allowed James’ business to establish.

A mango- with a good full fruit (not a dental floss  variety) is grafted onto a stronger rooting stock. James indicates the grafting point.

The nursery, like any garden, allotment or plot, feels  soothing, peaceful   Within its chain link fence, essential as locally owned animals- the cows, donkeys, pigs, hens and guinea fowl- are all “free range”, the air feels fresher, the shade is cooling, the rustling of drying seed pods and green leaves is calming.

Creature comforts of a shed- without needing the shed:-seating, radio- tuned into the Africa Cup football commentary,  a snack.

School for Life 3

At Tarikom C I was introduced to long standing facilitator Ayendago Philip- himself a “dropout” who graduated from Ghana’s Non-Formal Education Division (NFED)- the adult and original version of School For Life, set up by the government in 1992 to combat adult illiteracy.

Philip’s dedication, optimism and commitment are infectious. His classroom (he has the use of a school room for afternoons, after regular school has dismissed) is full, some learners caring for younger siblings while studying, with additional smaller children hanging onto and peering through the open window frames.

As I enter, a welcomed visitor, the class stands and sings the School for Life song with gusto.

The class of learners and facilitator are clearly bonded: humour, encouragement, shared delight when an individual “gets it right,” tell me there is a confidence in this system beyond the skill of the teacher.

Later Philip proudly relates the ongoing successes of his protégés who, after their fixed nine months in School for Life are encouraged to enroll into their local primary school, but not the lowest grades. The grounding in phonics, in basic reading and writing, needed for the Kusaal primers used at School for Life, are sufficient for picking up the curriculum at Primary 2 level onwards and progressing through regular school, learning increasingly through the English language.

Ibrahim confirms these reports, and we ponder the possible reasons. School for Life learners are aged between 8 and 14 (ages declared and accepted as few have an actual certificate of birth date) –old enough to have some personal motivation and drive to learn. Organisers aim for a 50-50 mix of boys and girls. Learners are taught in their mother tongue- Kusaal, whereas mainstream schools use English as the national unifying language. Written Kusaal is completely regular, so once the phonic rules are known, reading is easy. Facilitators use a mix of classroom techniques: interactive activities, songs, questions and answers, short breaks with exercises, repetition to consolidate, and learner participation. Facilitators are recruited from and appointed by a locally elected committee of five, supported practically, trained and funded at subsistence by School for Life at district level. The School for Life year runs from October to June, with classes each afternoon from 2-5pm, after which successful graduates move to a local regular school and fulltime education. The timing of classes allows learners to first complete any family and farming tasks, or await siblings returning from mainstream school before attending.

This scheme, with financial backing from the UK Department for International Development (DfID), has been operating and growing over the last fifteen years, and is a model for successful, low level, local development, cutting across an entrenched failure to fulfill of one of the basic human rights: the Right to Education.

School for Life 2

Suddenly upon us was a three sided seating structure of high seating benches, cramped with assortedly clad children swinging their legs and loudly chanting to the conducting arm of one adult, whose frame made up the fourth side of a square.

This was our first stop,  Tarikom A, to watch 25 young “learners”, ages between 8-14, who have never been to school, or have dropped out, keenly applying their sound and symbol knowledge (phonics) to read personal copies of Karim Kusaal Buku 1 (translation- Kusaal reader Book 1- Kusaal is the local African language), each taking turns to perform then to answer questions.  The class then stood, stretched and sang, before returning to more language exercises.  Similarly, basic numeracy is also taught each day.

Facilitator at Tarikom A- who took over the class in tragic circumstances, inspired by his daughter who taught the previous year, then sadly died.

Taking to the red dust track again, after several minutes we swung to the left and crossed a dried field to reach the welcome shade of a large tree. Here, at Tarikom B school the same lively regime, using the same simple paperback text books, with the additional use of a chalkboard for illustration, instruction and learners participating, saw Ibrahim take the opportunity for some coaching of the facilitator (title of the class instructor) as he revised vowels with the learners- there are seven vowel sounds and symbols in Kusaal.

Ibrahim coaching the class- and facilitator- with some extra onlookers under the  tree.

School for Life

Since the mid 19^th century, social reformers and governments have grown to understand and to implement state funded education to ensure a literate population, famously the Beveridge report of 1942 listed the social evils of “squalor, ignorance, want, idleness and disease”, and the United Nations in 1948 adopted the Right to Education within its Declaration of Human Rights.

In modern northern Ghana, illiteracy rates estimated at +80% (higher among females than males) seriously threatens the success of many development programmes in health, social welfare, enterprise, livelihoods and environment.

How do you effectively tackle the challenges of illiteracy and non- attendance at school?

A visit to three “School for Life” classes illustrates one initiative which has been delivering results for 15 years.

Ibrahim- Supervisor for 25 School for Life classes- on our  motorbike- note  the lack of road way.

On a hot Wednesday afternoon I was collected by Ibrahim, Supervisor for 25 schools, and picked a ride out into the one of the remote villages-Tarikom- about 40 minutes away from Zebilla. (I  had correctly judged my motorbike skills to be inadequate for the rough conditions.) Travelling across parched, sparsely populated savannah countryside, we bounced over rocks, slithered through the treacherous sands of dried streams, shrouded in clouds of red dust which coated us in a rusty layer and greeted occasional families as we skirted past their compounds, scattering their startled chickens and lively goats.

The countryside around Tarikom, in Bawku West.

And what have I learned?

Some random observations:

Having a public sector job doesn’t mean your wage will be paid on time- a number of colleagues reported  a “quiet” Christmas, with no money.

Christmas Day- like the key day in the Muslim calendar, Eid- is just another day: the market is open, as trading means food can be bought (most homes have no proper food storage facilities), money made and families will eat.

Water is heavy-I have worked the pump at a borehole, but can only carry a smallish 10 litre bucket full- and precious- it is the dry season, and the water supply via pipes is often low pressure and sometimes switched off-for days.

Pumping water at the bore hole near Haruna's house.

Water is carried home.

I can efficiently “bucket shower” using one small bowl of water only.

Water is the most precious commodity, but other commodities and services which may “finish” randomly are electricity, petrol, phone cards for mobile phones, the internet, bus timetables. A fairly loose, fairly empty schedule is the answer, allowing for flexible switching of plans and taking ”delay” as an opportunity for new ventures, new meetings, sharing thoughts, learning, food and amusing stories. The concept of “waiting”- with accompanying foot tapping, watch checking, growing irritation etc- is unknown.

At the "tro" station, where the local buses, or tro-tros collect passengers. Plenty of snacks for sale, while passing the time. (image -internet) 

While daily life occurs during daylight hours- about 5.45 am to 6.30 pm presently- celebrations of life and of death continue non-stop over 24 hours and more. Accompanying music is invariably loud, wonderfully rhythmic.

Busy with physically demanding daily tasks such as fetching water, hand laundering, pounding cassava and preparing other time- consuming staples to eat, (often with the youngest child on their backs in a cloth) thereby having no time for, and no concept of leisure, the local women look on bemused as the white women (nasalla) jog, skip with ropes, insist on walking or cycling-at speed, saying they need the exercise.

Hand washing at the bore hole.

Pounding cassava for Fu Fu- image internet.

Religion and observance are important. Regular activities- the day at work, meals, bus journeys, training sessions- will be blessed with an opening prayer.  It helps to have polite answers to inevitable questions about personal beliefs ready- either to prompt or to cut short any discussion and debate. Interwoven with Christianity and Islam –the two main faiths- are traditions and practices rooted in traditional African spirits and beliefs. (Compare how dates for Easter are fixed with reference to the first full moon after the spring equinox.) Locally, churches and mosques are both basic and plentiful.

Local mosque

local church

Ghana has a North/South divide: the northern regions are significantly poorer than the southern.

In politics, voters tend to follow tribal loyalties. There are two main parties which dominate the political system. (sounds familiar?)

People frequently fall ill, sometimes seriously. Morning greetings, the regular inquiries after the health of family members, are not empty gestures but recognition of life being precious and to be appreciated, with death ever present.

Ghana enjoys a deserved reputation as one of the friendliest and most welcoming of countries.

Our neighbours share a joke with us- through the language barrier.

“And what have you done?”

Over the holiday, I have done as little as possible, and clearly needed the rest time.

After a less than easy 36 hour journey from Bolga, I arrived with my friend Jane at a beach side resort outside the historical town of Elmina near Cape Coast.

Wooden fishing boats are built under make shift canopy on the beach at Elmina. In the background, Elmina castle overlooks a mix of African and Mediterranean buildings, a fishing port and busy market. 

Our eco-hut at Stumble Inn. Middle earth meets Africa.

A little sightseeing, yoga, six days of lying in the sun, paddling in the sea, lazing on shaded comfy seating, reading and chatting with visiting friends and other guests- the majority, volunteers or NGO workers and sharing good food, all worked their magic and I now feel restored and refreshed, ready for work and new challenges ahead.

Big waves!

New Year's Eve- bonfire and fireworks on the beach. Jane and I  enjoy a chance to wear our  Ghana tailored sun dresses.

And so this is Christmas

“And so this is Christmas…..”

“’Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the house

Not a creature was stirring

Not even a gecko.”

In Zebilla, the night before Christmas was extremely lively: the pito bars (locally brewed alcoholic temptation) buzzed, the Spot bars throbbed with popular  African music and the churches hummed and swayed as congregations praised and danced away the hours up till midnight.

It was reported that some Muslim families enjoyed a good old Christmas Carol singalong too.

Typical Spot- blessings sought for drinking.

On Christmas Day, it was business as usual, being a market day. (Every third day is market day.) Trading means families have money for food and other essentials. It means the majority of inhabitants, lacking food storage facilities and quantities of cash we are familiar with, can buy daily needs plus the extras only available every third day. Children called at our house, wearing the same clothes they wore the day before. Donkey carts passed by the kitchen window, laden with produce or firewood. A token offering of fruit punch was served to any caller, and received with huge thanks.

The donkey cart is a main mode of transport for heavy goods.(web image- Christian Aid)

In contrast, our modest pile of gifts to each other- locally sewn fabric items, small hand stitched Christmas stocking s with sweets (thank you, Fiona for the craft kit), posted out Christmas tat, chocolates (in interesting melted and re-formed shapes) dried herbs, tea and coffee- seemed luxurious to the point of embarrassment.  Our sun dresses and T shirts, the shared breakfast pancakes with fresh pineapple and banana, jarred oddly against tinsel garlands and the banner:- “Ho ho ho, Let it snow.” (thank you, Carol)

The important highlight of the day was calling my daughters, Rosie and Clare, at home- part of a system of emailing and phoning as many family and friends as possible, to make up for being so far away and missing everyone.

And then…. Party time, and celebrating VSO volunteer style:- meaning a collected effort to include all who wanted to, including Pot Luck buffet, Secret Santa ( star prizes- alcohol miniatures, chocolates, booby prize- anti-snoring device, comedy prizes- tea to boost the flagging libido, studded condoms (!)), Azonto competition and post- eating snoozy chatting.

VSO Christmas Party- Bolga 2012- Revelers show off Secret Santa gifts

PS- As I send this blog posting in early January, parcels from home laden with tinsel, Christmas tat, gifts and cards continue to arrive, singly.