Friday 14 August 2009

Goodbye Ghana

Thursday 30th July

Today we were filming our Global Mamas mini-documentary, so after meeting at the TV station Barbara and I caught a taxi into town. When we were just around the corner from the Global Mamas shop another taxi decided that looking before pulling out was a little bit too safety conscious for his liking and so crashed into the back of us. Luckily we escaped unscathed.
Eventually we made it to Global Mamas where we met Lynette and proceeded to the office to film our interviews. Global Mamas is an organisation which gives women a much better wage than they would earn elsewhere, with Global Mamas employees earning ten times the average Ghanaian daily wage. The women who work for the organisation are also offered training in areas such as finance and computing to enable them to effectively expand their business. I really enjoyed conducting the interviews and talking to everyone at Global Mamas, and think it was definitely one of my favourite days with Coastal TV. After buying out the Global Mamas shop and briefly venturing to Panafest for some souvenir shopping I returned to the station. After discussing the script for the documentary and planning what we would do tomorrow there wasn't much else to do so I headed off to the police station in an attempt to get hold of my police report.
Naively, I thought that having been told the report would be ready by Monday I would probably be able to collect the report by Thursday, especially as this was a whole week since I had been mugged. How naive I was! It took twenty minutes just for the police to establish that I was actually there as a victim of crime; one of the policemen recognised me from when I had come on a Daily Guide assignment and had tried to take me to the office of the woman I had been meant to interview, despite me clearly stating that I had been there the previous week to report my mugging and was here to collect my report.
After it was finally established that I was there to collect my police report, I then faced the battle of actually getting it. Once I had told them my full name, they figured a report for some one sharing part of my name would be adequate and so I was handed the report of someone called Charlotte Graham. Although surprised that I was not happy with this, they dutifully started to write a new report for a certain Daniel Graham. It was at this point that I started to get a little angry. After a total of two hours at the police station I was given the mobile number of Sgt Senoo, the man who had taken my statement, and told to ring him to find out when I could get the report.
I was feeling pretty pissed off after all of this, so was quite pleased that we had chips for dinner. That evening we watched my pirate DVD of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince; a relaxed night in before my final day of placement.

Friday 31st July

The last day at the station was fairly uneventful, as we just editing the Global Mamas footage and I was recording the voiceover. After several phone calls to various people, (quelle surprise, the number I was given for Sgt. Senoo didn't work) Salem eventually rang me to tell me to go to the station I left the station three and a half hours later, still without my report. Highlights of the long 210 minutes at Central Regional Headquarters included being told that I shouldn't have had an expensive camera if I didn't want it to get stolen, being prepositioned yet again by the delightful Sgt. Senoo and being met with hysterical laughter when I asked for the report to be changed so it was actually spelt correctly. I then rang Salem, who took me to a different police station where he knew the district commissioner, and within 20 minutes I had a police extract with details of all the items that had been stolen. Admittedly the experience had not been without its negatives- the whole time I had been next to the cell so had to talk to the policeman whilst ten prisoners waved and gestured at me- but at least I had something to use for my insurance claim. That evening Salem also presented me with the final police report from the first police station. Here are the 'brief facts' from the police report. All spellings, grammar etc is copied from the actual report:
BRIEF FACTS: Complainant is a British National in Ghana working as a journalist at Coastal Television in Cape Coast with global volunteer projects. On 23 July 2009 at 1200am complainant and her four British nationals were retuning from Oasis Restaurant going to board a vehicle to their residence at Abura a suburb of Cape Coast. On the castle road the complainant had her hand bag stolen containing the above mentioned items stolen by unknown person.
My favourite bit is where I am retuning from Oasis with my nationals.
After leaving the second police station I went back to Coastal TV to say my goodbyes. Whilst I had not originally wanted to work at the TV station, I had ended up really enjoying my time there and was genuinely sad to leave.
I went back to the house to receive my final items from Lydia and say goodbye. I did actually get a bit tearful as I knew that I was unlikely to see her again. We then went out to Oasis to see some African drumming and dancing then went home to bed. Last full day in Cape Coast tomorrow!

Saturday 1st August

I got up early and did most of my packing before everyone else was up, then after having some breakfast we set off for Elmina Castle. Used by the Dutch as a slave castle, our tour was very interesting to start with but ended up being excessively long. In total, our tour took about 90 minutes, which was quite impressive considering it took 15 minutes to walk around the entire castle.
After some purchases in the gift shop we headed to Coconut Grove for what was for me the final time. After an afternoon attempting to get a tan (ultimately I failed) we had the now expected hour's wait for the taxi driver before giving up and getting one of the resort's plush cars back to the house.
The evening was an alcohol-fuelled event at Oasis, at the end of which I discovered that vast quantities of punch+ movement= sick Daniella.

Sunday 2nd August

Quite a few of us woke up feeling rather worse for wear, especially Kirsty and I. Feeling rather delicate we headed off to Hans Cottage. Partly because I had been before, but mainly because I was afraid that if I moved I would either pass out or be violently sick, I decided to sit down whilst the others went crocodile spotting. I almost found it funny that I was experiencing the worst hangover of my life whilst about to embark on a 24 hour journey from Cape Coast to Poole.
After a couple of hours at the house doing last minute packing and lounging around, the taxi arrived to take me to the airport and it was time to say goodbye.
After a mildly terrifying taxi journey to the airport- we often travelled on the wrong side of the road to overtake up to eight cars/minibuses/lorries at a time- we made it to the airport. The taxi driver tried to charge me over the agreed price, which I felt was an appropriate end to my final Ghanaian taxi driver.
After a couple of hours milling around the airport, it was time to board my plane to Heathrow.
Goodbye Ghana!

People in Ghana that I will miss:
  • The other volunteers living in the house who I made friends with over the course of the four weeks, and hope to keep in touch with.
  • Everyone at Coastal TV who made me feel very welcome.
  • Lydia, the amazing seamstress who was definitely the nicest and most genuine person I met in Ghana.
  • Arthur, the only taxi driver that didn't try to either rip me off, come on to me or both.
People in Ghana that I will not miss:
  • Allan, who thought that the British were to blame for everything going wrong in Africa.
  • George, the employee of Global Volunteer Projects that liked to steal our money.
  • The rude woman at the shop by our house who looked at me as though I had just killed her grandmother when I was in fact just buying a bottle of coke.
  • Every employee of Ghana Police.
  • Every taxi driver in Ghana apart from Arthur.
Things about Ghana that I will miss:
  • The sun.
  • The fact that I could get drunk for about £3.
  • Shared taxis into town that cost 40p.
  • The fact that when you walk down a street, not everything is grey.
Things about Ghana that I will not miss:
  • Cold showers.
  • Being constantly covered in a layer of dust.
  • Toilets that don't flush, have no toilet roll or seat and smell like someone has died in them.
  • Having to wait at least an hour for food to arrive. On a good day.
  • Having people shout 'Obruni!' (white man) at me all day, everyday for four and a half weeks. Most of the time also followed by the person asking me for money.
  • The smell of sewage in the streets.
  • Being constantly ripped off by taxi drivers.
  • Food that is total crap.
  • Being harrassed to buy really awful paintings.
  • Being proposed to at least once a day.
  • Being called a racist everytime I turn down a marriage proposal.
And that is the end of my tales of my Ghana adventure.

Au revoir,

Daniella xxx

Wednesday 29 July 2009

Getting mugged and getting hungry

Wednesday 22nd July

Today I was back at the Daily Guide, and was told by Sarah to get there for 9am. At 9am I arrived at the office to find someone that also works there, but no sign of Sarah. Luckily I had brought a book with me, so I could read for the hour and a half before Sarah eventually turned up, without explanation of course. She wrote down a list of questions and a name and told me to go to the police station, find this person and ask her the questions then come back. So off in a taxi I went to Ghana Police Station. The Central Regional headquarters are not exactly brilliant. I was chatted up by a policeman walking up the drive, then when I got to what was presumably the reception there were about six policemen just stood around doing absolutely nothing, and there was no place for anyone to sit. My main thought was that I would hate to have to come here as a victim of crime. After asking for Madam Felicia Ayisu, I was taken to another room to wait for a few minutes before I was taken to her office. Madam Ayisu claimed to have no idea who I was, despite the fact Sarah had rung her about 15 minutes previously, and said she would not answer my questions until she was officially introduced to me by Sarah. I rung up Sarah and explained what had happened. Ten minutes later she called me back to inform me that Madam Ayisu would not be answering my questions, and she had nothing else for me to do so I might as well go home. I was fairly unimpressed.
On the way home I bumped into Eric, who asked me if I wanted to come along with the volunteers doing the HIV project with a view to writing a story about it. I had nothing better to do so I was more than willing to come along. First we had to pick up some of the volunteers from a school where they were doing the Outreach project. Basically they go to schools and clean and dress the wounds of the children. I got my camera out to take some pictures of the children, who at this point went completely crazy. They were so desperate to be in the photo that they were all pushing each other out of the way, and at one point a mini scuffle broke out. I quickly took a few pictures then put my camera away. At the next school for the HIV project, I observed Emily's HIV presentation. She was teaching the boys about how you can and cannot contract the virus, how HIV progresses and what you can do to prevent yourself from catching the virus. The boys were very impressed by Emily's application of a condom on to a wooden penis.
That evening, we went to out usual beachside hangout for food and a couple of drinks as it was Joe and Harriet's last night in Cape Coast. I was sticking to my new budget so only had one drink. At midnight Emily, Joe, Harriet, Kieran and I left to get a taxi home, but there weren't any outside so we walked a bit further along the road to where we knew there would be taxis. The road was well lit, and there were still plenty of people around, but there was a short section of about ten metres where there were a lot of shadows and I couldn't see any people. The five of us were in a line, with me on the far left. Just ahead I could see a person in the shadows. Instinctively I checked that my bag was across my shoulder and zipped up, put my arm across it and looked straight ahead as I continued walking. A few seconds later I could see him approaching, I grabbed hold of my bag then he came up to me and tried to snatch my bag. He forcefully continued to tug until the strap broke and he ripped the bag from my hand, and it was the pain that caused me to scream. All this happened in a matter of seconds, so by the time everyone realised the man was already running away. Joe started to run after him but soon realised chasing a mugger down an alley in the dark was probably a bad move. We quickly walked up the road to where the taxis were, which was less than 100m away. As we walked to the taxi my hands were shaking. Once safely inside the taxi the shock subsided and I realised just how much my hand was hurting, so distracted myself by working out exactly what was in the bag.
1. My Ghana phone, which was only worth about 20 pounds.
2. Some Benefit make up that I had bought in duty free on the way out here. Annoying to lose, but easy to replace.
3. My purse. It was only my Ghana purse so had no cards or anything in it, and as I had only been taking out with me what I planned to spend that day there was only about ten pounds worth of currency in it. Unfortunately the purse also contained the key to my suitcase, so I would be unable to unlock it when I got back.\
4. My camera. I had planned on buying a new camera the next time I went away as this one was starting to break, but it wasn't the camera itself I was concerned with. I'd spent ages earlier in the day looking through my pictures, and realised I had over 300 photos from my first three weeks in Ghana. And now I'd never be able to prove I'd seen Barack Obama!
When we got in, we looked at my hand. When the mugger had torn my bag from me, the material from the handle had ripped the skin between my middle and ring finger and ripped some skin at the top of my palm. Luckily my medic friends had their kits from Outreach, so cleaned the skin with some violet stuff that dyed my whole hand blue and then bandaged me up. We then went to wake up Eric. His response was typically sympathetic- he spent ten minutes telling me that I had walked the wrong route to get a taxi, although someone had actually had a knife pulled on them last week on the alternative path that he had suggested. At no point did he ask if I was ok. Tired, a bit upset but mainly very pissed off, I went to bed.

Thursday 23rd July

After an hour or two spent skulking around in my pyjamas as I was unable to get into my suitcase, Eric finally had time to break open the lock on my suitcase so I could retrieve my underwear and get dressed. As we were about to leave for the police station, I asked if there was anything I needed to take with me. Eric said no, so I did not take anything apart from myself. Once at the police station, Eric quickly explained the situation to one of the same policemen standing around that I had seen the previous day, and I was told to wait to be seen. For some reason the reception had no seats whatsoever, but there was one bench outside which I went and sat on. Eric then announced he was off to the bank so when I was finished I should get a taxi home. When I pointed out that he had told me I didn't need to bring anything out with me, he gave me the taxi fare and was off.
I can't say I was particularly impressed at being dumped on a bench at a police station with no idea what was going on or how long I would be there. I sat on the bench sniffling, mainly because I had developed a cold but partly because I was trying not to burst into tears, when the lady on the bench next to me offered me a tissue. We got chatting, and I learnt that she was from Nigeria and was in Ghana visiting her father, who joined us on the bench and turned out to be the editor of the local newspaper. If only I had met him earlier, I would have tried to wrangle a placement with him! They were both lovely and seemed genuinely concerned about how I was, and chatting them for the 45 minutes that I was waiting to be seen made the experience a lot more bearable as well as making me realise that there are a lot of genuinely warm and friendly people in Ghana.
Eventually Eric returned, spoke to the policeman, and I was told to explain what had happened. Nobody seemed that bothered, and Eric explained that I just needed a report to claim on my insurance. He then left again for Accra.
Fortunately, it was at this point that Salem turned up. A Lebanese businessman based in Ghana, Salem looks out for all the volunteers based in Cape Coast. This unofficial arrangement, with a man in his late thirties befriending young volunteers, seems very strange to anyone on the outside and I must admit I had always been slightly suspicious of Salem. However, I was incredibly grateful that he had come to the police station after one of the other volunteers had told him what had happened. He knew the head of the police station, and soon everyone was suddenly slightly more concerned about what had happened- particularly the fact that my hand had been slightly injured in the mugging. I was taken to the head of crime investigation to explain what had happened, then taken to someone else to make an official statement. At this point Salem had turned to leave, so I was now alone again.
I filled in a witness statement form, which included my name, age, address, phone number and statement. As I now had no phone, I thought it would be fairly reasonable to leave the phone number section blank. The policeman with me pointed to the phone number section and asked for my number "so I can call you." Resisting the urge to explain that in Britain if a policeman chatted up a victim of crime it would be seen as sexual harrassment, I instead reminded him I was there because someone had stolen my bag, which contained my phone. "Do you not know your number from memory?" was his response. I gave up. He then asked me if I would marry a black man, to which I replied that I had no idea who I would marry, let alone what colour they would be. This apparently meant that my parents were racist. Another policeman came along and had a look over my statement. I thought he was checking everything had been filled in correctly, but no. He pointed at my age and said "that's good." When I asked why, he replied, "you are 20, I am 25. We can get married." After being driven to the scene of the crime to point out the exact spot where I was mugged, I was finally allowed to leave, and told to return on Monday to collect the police report.
Back at the house, it turned out today was the day we would be having our Ghanaian drumming lessons. As I couldn't even slightly move my left hand without pieces of raw flesh rubbing together, I thought it was best to sit it out.
After the drumming was over, a few of us went into town. I decided to cheer myself up with a visit to Francesca, the lady who made beautiful jewellery. When she saw my hand she asked what had happened and I explained about the mugging. She seemed quite outraged and repeatedly apologised, saying that these bad people were ruining Ghana. I was touched by how genuinely appalled and concerned for me she was, but her reaction was nothing compared to Lydia, the lady who makes clothes for us. She seemed so upset for me I thought she was going to cry! Whilst I was away at the weekend she even called me to make sure I was ok. I tried to reassure Lydia that I was ok, and explained that her coming round had made my day. I wasn't lying- she had brought with her three finished dresses for me and I loved them. I've spent more on fabric and dressmaking than anything else since I've been here! I spent the rest of the evening having a relaxed night in with the girls and big Kieran.

Friday 24th July

I started the day by attempting to organise my life at the internet cafe, but yet again was thwarted by Ghanaian technology. I came back to the house and went all motherly by making sandwiches for everyone to eat on our trip to Beyin. When Emily and Kirsty returned from placement, we got a taxi to the tro station where we met Fatima and Nicola. We then got a tro-tro from Cape Coast to Takoradi, and another from Takoradi to Beyin. The journey took less than four hours and was surprisingly uneventful! We were staying in Beyin Beach Resort, a place with great views and an even better menu. We were all practically drooling when we clapped eyes on the menu and saw what was on offer. I went for jacket potato with cheese followed by chocolate brownies, and it was amazing. I went to bed feeling full for the first time since coming to Ghana.

Saturday 25th July

In the morning we went on a canoe ride to see a village on stilts. Having paid for our tickets for the canoe ride, tour of the village and use of our camera we were somewhat surprised when the man paddling our canoe spent the first 20 minutes of our canoe ride telling us that we needed to tip him. The stilt village was pretty impressive- it it literally a village built on stilts above a river- but it was fairly irritating being sat down with the expectation of making a donation to the village. This was not quite as annoying as being conned in to paying extra for a 'crocodile tour' in which there were no actual crocodiles. On the way back, our guide spent a few minutes reiterating the need to tip before spending half an hour telling us about his desire for a white wife. Luckily for us, England was one of his top four countries to get a wife from, so at this point I quickly upgraded my fictional boyfriend to husband status. He continued to tell us about his desire for a white wife until his lack of concentration caused him to crash the canoe into the bank. The small leak in our canoe was now a major issue, so Nicola, Emily and I spent the rest of the canoe ride scooping out water to prevent us from sinking.
We spent the rest of the day walking along the beach, where we saw a herd of cows. It would appear that cows enjoy a casual stroll along the beach as much as the rest of us. We then spent the evening playing monopoly, which as ever became a little too serious and dragged on way too long, so I was glad when I went bankrupt and could go to bed!

Sunday 26th July

In Ghana, everything stops for church on Sunday. This meant we had to leave by lunchtime to have any chance of getting back to Cape Coast by the evening. We got on three tros- the first of which was so bumpy that we all thought that if we managed to escape with only mild concussion then we were pretty lucky. Pleased to still be alive, the journey to Takoradi was spent playing 'guess the intro,' which amused and irritated all the Ghanaians on the tro with us in equal measure. At one point our tro was stopped by police, not for our dreadful singing, but for the policemen to ask us which one of us would be his wife. At this point I was grateful for my fictional husband. The final tro journey was spent making up Ghanaian monopoly.
In the evening I counted my money. I knew that I was going to need some more money soon, but also knew that I had left behind a fair amount of money in my suitcase so I thought would be ok for a couple of days. Upon opening my suitcase, I realised that I had only left a few coins behind, so only had 20 pounds to last me for a week and get me to the airport. Time for a phonecall home methinks.

Monday 27th July

Not an awful lot happened today to be honest. Spent most of the day planning a mini documentary about Global Mamas, a fair trade shop which sells handmade clothes and craft items. After making some phone calls, I went into town with Lynette to drop our interview questions into Global Mamas. Lynette works for ESPN in Singapore and is here at Coastal TV for a month. Afterwards I went to the nearest Western Union money transfer place and collected my emergency money, then quickly got into a taxi before I could get mugged again! There was nothing but the usual unidentifiable meat with rice for dinner, so had toast and biscuits instead. We started watching a pirate copy of Harry Potter, but everyone was shattered so we were all in bed by 10.30.

Tuesday 28th July

At 12.30pm we left the TV station and headed off to the village of Mesomagor, located on the eastern side of Kakum National Park. Selete warned us that there would be no mobile phone signal, so I managed to maintain my composure as the signal gradually faded away to nothing. The station had given us a box of food containing lunch and dinner for the day, which wasn't of much comfort to me. Lunch was rice and a horrible sauce which I left completely, a piece of chicken which I managed half of and fried plaintain which I forced myself to eat as I was so hungry. I really wish I wasn't so fussy, but I just cannot stomach Ghanaian food! As I forced down the plaintain I comforted myself with the knowledge that this time next week I will be back in England gorging myself on British food.
After lunch we were given a tour of the village, which was really interesting although I always feel a little bit voyeuristic and slightly uncomfortable staring at people's homes. However, everyone was really friendly and welcoming, and they did show me how to make fufu. I tried to be diplomatic when asked for my thoughts on fufu.
After our tour we were treated to a performance from the village's bamboo orchestra. As the name suggests, most of their instruments are made from bamboo. They also sing, and their performances are enghanced by dramatic dancing with props including a wooden chainsaw! It was definitely one of the highlights of my time in Ghana.
Dinner was cold spaghetti with tuna, so I decided to eat one of my emergency chocolate spread sandwiches I had packed instead.
With no electricity, there wasn't a lot to do since it was pitch black everywhere by 7pm. I read by torchlight until I had finished A Clockwork Orange, then tried to get to sleep. Unfortunately, I soon needed the toilet. There is no running water in Mesomagor, so the toilet is a shed with a hole in the ground located a short distance away from the house in which we were staying. Having seen a rather large spider near the toilet earlier in the day, I hadn't been too keen to take a night-time trip to the loo. After two hours trying in vain to sleep, I grabbed the torch, legged it to the toilet then ran straight back to bed.

Wednesday 29th July

Sleeping had been made somewhat difficult by the menagerie of animals located by the house. I had been kept awake by the sounds of crickets, dogs, goats and cockerels, so it was almost a relief when my alarm went off at six. Almost.
I had half of my final emergency sandwich for breakfast, then we went to meet our guide to start our hike at 6.30. Of course this was Ghana, so we didn't set off until 7.10. We were hiking into the rainforest to see the treetop platform an hour and a half away, but the entire walk somehow managed to take nearly six hours. This was because we were subjected to lengthy talks about every different type of tree, which in a rainforest takes up quite a lot of time. The only interesting part was when our guide told us he had spotted a snake, but this excitement soon faded when I saw the 'snake'- it was basically a black worm. The treetop platform itself was nothing spectacular, although the climb up was quite interesting. The platform was pretty high up, and to get to it you had to climb a very flimsy ladder which shook uncontrollably the whole time. I did think at one point that there was a genuine possibility I might die. On the way back to the village we were made to try some wine which you "can't find in Cape Coast," although I am not sure if the guide was referring to the wine itself or the dead ants that were floating in it.
When we returned to the village it was lunchtime, and we had been promised a typical Mesomagor meal. After hearing another volunteer's tale of soup which contained fish eyes and scales, I thought it would be wise to say that I didn't eat fish. I couldn't get out of eating plaintain again though. By the time we had finished it was 2.30, and Selete had said he was picking us up at 3. It had taken about an hour and a half to get here, so I figured we would be back home just in time for spaghetti bolognaise for dinner. Selete turned up just before 4, and we didn't actually leave until 4.30. Knowing that dinner would be served by 5, I couldn't face cold spaghetti again so just went straight to the internet cafe and figured I would have to make myself some noodles for dinner. Slightly irritated, I went and bought a big packet of cookies first.

Speak to you soon for my final Ghana blog,

Daniella xxx





Friday 24 July 2009

Wooden TVs and fish pasties...

Friday 17th July

I get to the TV station at 7am, not quite sure where we are going but anticipating an exciting day. Really, I should have known better by now.
I am told we are going with some students from the University of Cape Coast to visit the factory of an inventor who makes lights which come on when you clap and other such wonders. Not quite what I was hoping for, but still potentially quite interesting. Potentially.
At 7.30 we get to the University of Cape Coast, or U.C.C. for short. After an hour of sitting on the coach, we finally start moving.We have been told the journey is an hour, we left U.C.C at 8.30, so we arrived at... yes, 10.30.
The factory is not the centre of technology I had been expecting, but basically a large shed and a few dusty buildings. Mr Asafo, founder of Kantanka, established the business to prove Africa could be just as technologically advanced as the Western nations. I shall spare you the details of the painfully dull three hour tour, but basically Kantanka has proved Africa's technological credentials by manufacturing TVs out of wood. But what about the lights that come on when you clap and wave? Apparently this 'technology' has so far only been applied to televisions. If you clap really loudly for 10 minutes, the TV may- or may not- come on. You can control the volume by clapping too- unfortunately there is no way of communicating whether you want the volume louder or quieter, so clapping ten times normally means the volume goes up five notches then back down five notches. There's also a TV which turns on and off when you wave your hand, but you have to wave your hand no further than 1cm away from the screen. All in all, it's a bit rubbish. I tried to relieve my boredom by going on a trip to toilet. Unfortunately, when I was presented with the washroom, it was simply a concrete floor with concrete wall. Now I am not talking about concrete floor with, for example, a hole in the middle. It was just a flat concrete floor with nowhere for anything to go. I decided to wait until we returned home.
Desperate to leave, partly due to the desire for an actual toilet but mainly due to boredom, one of the lecturers insists on taking us round the whole factory again so we can 'take more shots.' Just when Barbara and I are hoping we can leave, it turns out we are having snacks first. This is the point in my life where I realised that fish pasties are one of the most revolting things on earth. After being forced to film interviews with practically everyone remotely involved with the trip, we finally got to the coach. Homeward bound at last! After travelling for approximately five minutes, we stop. Apparently we are getting out to eat, as two hours between eating a pasty and arriving home are simply too long to go without food. We get back to Cape Coast at about 4pm, at which point Barbara and I practically run of the coach. Tomorrow, beach!

Saturday 18th and Sunday 19th July

Not much to report to be honest- a nice weekend spent relaxing at two nearby beach resorts! Got a little bit sunburnt, but this has since faded so I do not look like a tomato anymore.

Monday 20th July

Over the course of the weekend I had realised that I had run out of money. Thus, a trip to Barclays to change the last of my traveller's cheques was necessary before I could get to work. Whilst the queue was very long as per usual, today's visit was particularly painful as the man stood in front of me during my 45 minute wait insisted on singing along to the background music in the style of a dying whale.
I finally made it to the television station at 11am, and we headed straight out to film an interview with a local weaving lady who makes Kente cloth. The lady was lovely and the cloth beautiful, although I couldn't imagine how anyone could have the patience to spend three whole days working just to create four yards of cloth. The rest of the morning was spent editing the footage shot last week, and soon I realised that lunchtime was approaching. Anxious to avoid the horrors of Ghanaian food, I went home to grab some notes I had left at home and pointed out I might as well eat whilst I was back. Sadly there was hardly any food in the house so had to settle for toast again.
Back at the station, I wrote and recorded the voiceover for our documentary. Apparently I am now quite skilled at voiceovers, as the newsreader recommended me to someone writing the voiceover for a news item. Confronted with a mass of Ghanaian names, I checked the pronounciations with someone before I started recording. One name which came up quite a lot was Mr Dadze, which apparently should be pronounced 'Dart-zy'. Unfortunately saying this repeatedly proved quite difficult, and I ended up having to re-record my voiceover as I kept saying 'Mr Darcy.'
Back home, there was nothing edible for dinner so I had no choice but to buy some food out. All I want is a nice jacket potato with cheese...

Tuesday 21st July

We were supposed to be leaving the TV station pretty promptly, so I got there at 10am. We left at 10.45. We were going to Cape Coast Castle to film some general shots of the castle and then interview the person who had shown Barack Obama around the castle, which all in all we expected to take approximately two hours. We left Cape Coast Castle at 3.30pm, having arrived at 11. Apparently Mr Blankson, the tour guide, had a large variety of very important things to do including a three hour lunch break.
I got home to find yet another revolting dinner- fried plantain. Fried plantain, for those of you who have not had the joy of trying it, basically tastes like a banana fried in sick.
In dire financial straits, I could not afford to eat out tonight. I set to work on my amazing budget, but was too hungry to really put any effort in to it. Then we discovered chips in the freezer! After enjoying the best chip butty ever, I got to work on my budget. As long as I had no unexpected expenditures, I could still buy plenty of souvenirs and eat out, yay!

Speak soon,

Daniella

Tuesday 14 July 2009

Rainforests, Obama and a lot of beach action...

Hi everybody! Apologies for being rather slack with my blog, it's been a very hectic week so haven't had a chance to write up the latest installment of my adventures! Hope it's worth the wait and I promise I won't be this bad at keeping you updated again!

Thursday 9th July
If you look back to my last entry, you will remember that Allan- I have since found out his name has 2 'l's- and I had agreed to get on with doing some actual work and avoid the contentious issues of basically anything that concerned the West and Africa. When Allan greeted me with a warm 'good morning', I was hopeful it would be an interesting and enjoyable day. Well, it was certainly the former, but definitely not the latter! I knew things weren't going to be smooth within about ten minutes of entering the office. Allan had been talking to some men, and went they left informed me that they were discussing how "Gordon Brown should come to Ghana and pay for what Britain is done." Great. Determined not to rise to the bait, I smiled politely and went back to scouring the day's news. I was told a car would soon be coming to take us to see the Vice President of Ghana. After sitting with nothing to do for an hour, Allan announced he was off to send a story. As yesterday when he did this he was gone for well over an hour, today I asked to come to, pointing out that this meant I would be with him if the car came. After sending the story, Allan informed me that the car had come but had driven off again. I asked when the car would be coming back. "Oh it won't, we will just get a press release or something. The Vice President is coming to Cape Coast anyway in a few hours, so you might aswell just wander around town for a couple of hours." We exchanged numbers, and Allan agreed to ring me when I needed to come back to the office. Four hours later I had heard nothing, and was running out of things to do in town, so I decided to ring Allan to find out what was going on. His response- "Come now and do story." Then he hung up. When I arrived back at the office he informed me that he had called me to say the Vice President was here. I pointed out that I had actually rung him and he had not tried to call me, but this detail was lost on Allan.
Knowing nothing other than the Vice President was the guy in the denim shirt, I wondered what the hell was going on. We were ushered on to a bus, and driven to Cape Coast Castle. It turned out that the VP was being given a tour of Cape Coast Castle, which Britain had built to house slaves before they were shipped off, in anticipation of Barack Obama's visit at the weekend. Obama would be given a tour of the castle and then be unveiling a plaque, so the VP was getting a preview of the plaque and getting the same tour that Obama would experience on Saturday. As I followed the VP around, I realised I had no paper, so had to use my hand as a makeshift notepad. Fortunately just as I was at the point where I needed to overflow onto my arm another journalist took pity on me and offered me some of his paper! I won't bore you all with the details of the tour, but all you need to know is that I saw the horrible conditions in which slaves had been kept. After leaving the castle, Allan- who had disappeared during the tour- reappeared with the words "So you saw what the British did to the slaves then?"
Back at the office, I was all set to write my story. I had seen how genuinely shocked the VP had been by how the slaves had been treated, had been next to the VP throughout the tour, and was the only person to see what he had written in the comments book, so thought I could potentially write quite a good story. Allan thought otherwise. He presented me with a half written story about Obama and told me to write my observations about the VP's tour in the middle of it. I asked if I could do mine as a separate story as I thought that the Vice President's tour wasn't just about Obama but also his own personal reaction to the tour. And if it was story maybe he could credit it to me rather than himself? This idea was not well received. For about ten minutes Allan ranted and raved at me in a fairly incoherent and excessively agressive manner before standing up, announcing "I cannot work with you!" and storming out. Onto placement number three methinks...

Friday 10th July
Today, in summary, was pretty crap. I spent approximately three hours explaining what had happened the previous day to various members of the Global Volunteer Project team. It took a few tears to convince them that I was most definitely not going to be forced back to Allan! For most of the day I had no idea what was happening, but there was talk of relocating to the Daily Guide- which happens to have its office next door to Allan. I managed to forget this detail as I was distracted by the thought that I am off to the rainforest this evening! We arrived at the Rainforest Lodge by Kakum National Park in the early evening, but it was too late to get food from the restaurant. We stumble along a pitch black road- apparently we can find food five minutes along- and come across a rather random little town. There are small shops which sell lollypops but not actual food, with the exception of some cremated fish. We go to bed hungry.

Saturday 11th July
The day started for us at 4.45am when our alarms went off, with groans and dazed expressions all round. We would be having a guided walk around the rainforest, including a canopy walk, at 5.30 am. The rainforest walk was pretty amazing, and our guide was a rather wise man who seemed to know everything there was to know about trees. Whilst looking at trees for two hours might seem a little dull, the canopy walk halfway through turned what would be a fairly pretty walk in to an adventure. The canopy walk consisted of six rope bridges 100ft above the ground, with viewing platforms from high in the trees. Needless to say the views were spectacular. Back on the walk, we were carefully and quietly tracking the call of a monkey when my phone rang. It was Sarah from the Daily Guide, telling me to be at the office for 11am to cover President Obama's visit to Cape Coast that afternoon. Whilst I was pleased to know what I was doing at last, my Nokia ring tone failed to attract the monkey we had been tracking.
Whilst our visit to Kakum National Park- ringing phones aside- had been a peaceful and relaxing affair, our journey home was nothing short of petrifying. Taxi drivers out here are pretty crazy anyway but our taxi driver back to Cape Coast was the craziest of the lot. I had tried to ignore the erratic driving and speeding by burying my head in a book, but halfway through the journey was distracted by a bump and screams from my friends in the back seat. As I turned to look behind me, a dog was lying motionless in the road with its legs in the air whilst the taxi driver laughed hysterically. We were all relieved to make it back to Cape Coast in one piece.
Once we were home I quickly dumped my stuff, got changed and headed into town, where Obama mania was at its peak. Everywhere you looked there were stalls selling Obama merchandise and people dressed head to toe in Obama cloth. When I get back I will add pictures, but basically it's cloth emblazoned with massive pictures of Obama's head and is pretty terrifying!
I was meeting Sarah at the office at 11am. At 10.55, I went to the office and it was locked. I tried calling her but her phone was switched off, so at 11.15 I went to where crowds were gathered in an attempt to find her. After trying to call her every 10 minutes, at 12.20 she rang me to say she was on the way to the office- apparently explanations are not required in Ghana. After reading a book whilst Sarah wrote a story- I wasn't being lazy, there was just absolutely nothing to do- Sarah went to go to the press area. I didn't have a press pass, but thought might be allowed in anyway. The guard also seemed to cave and looked willing to let me go through, but Sarah quickly intercepted with "no she is not coming with me, she is doing another story." Thanks for that! So I was sent off to take pictures and mingle with the crowds, chatting to people about their thoughts on the visit and generally soaking up the atmosphere. At first I felt a bit of an idiot asking to take pictures of people dressed head to toe in Obama cloth, then realised that they were the ones covered in pictures of someone's face and so got over any embarrassment. After a while I was actually glad I wasn't in the press area, as the atmosphere around Cape Coast was amazing. Everyone was so excited about the prospect of seeing Obama that it is difficult to put it into words- they view him here as an almost God-like figure. One person actually called him the Messiah! People did everything they could to try and catch a glimpse of the President. By the roads which Obama was due to pass, people clamboured up trees and climbed on top of vans to get a better view, and there was even a fire engine with thirty people stood on top. I wandered off to a different part of the Obama route to meet Harriet and Joe, and managed to get a surprisingly good view of the road considering it was now about 4pm and some people had been stood there since 10am. Whilst I was chatting to Joe and Harriet, a small girl came up to us and insisted I take her photo and then decided to stay with us. After nearly an hour of waiting, we were beginning to doubt whether Obama was actually going to pass this way at all. When a van filled with official-looking white people- whom I presumed to be Americans on the basis they were all wearing ridiculous sunglasses- drove away Harriet and Joe decided that Obama was not coming and left to go home. I thought the fact they were driving off might mean that Obama's arrival was imminent, plus I had nothing better to do so thought I might as well stay. Approximately three minutes after Joe and Harriet had left, motorbikes started driving past, followed by a massive black car with Ghanaian and American flags on, followed by the one and only Beast! Out of the window Barack himself was waving to the crowds as he passed, and must admit I did get a little bit caught up in the hysteria. Having found it the extreme excitement of everyone in Ghana somewhat hilarious, I did actually get a little bit choked up when it dawned on me that I had just seen the first African-American President of the most powerful country in the world. Then I felt a little bit ashamed that I hadn't been this excited when I had seen the Queen a couple of years ago. After Obama drove past crowds rushed on to the roads which had previously been blocked off, and I went with them. I looked to my side to see the girl who had asked me to take her picture earlier laughing hysterically and clutching her nose. When I asked what was so funny she pointed and said two words- "big nose." Great, in five minutes I haev gone from seeing one of the most famous people in the world to having my self esteem shattered by a six year old girl. This girl then decided to follow me across town, for reasons known only to herself. Outside Cape Coast Castle, I took a couple of pictures and then got chatting to Charles, a 35 year old businessman who had been in the Castle when Obama was having his tour. This would be good for my story I thought. So after chatting for a while about the visit, Charles went on to ask me how I was enjoying Ghana, had I tried much African food, etc etc. The random girl was still at my side. I told Charles I had to head back to the office, so went to walk away, but Charles and the girl followed. After chatting further, Charles seemed quite nice but when he asked for my number I politely told him I had a boyfriend. I don't, but thought this was easier than telling him that in Britain it is a bit creepy for a 20 year old to go out with a 35 year man she met on holiday. He did not seem phased by this, and pointed out he meant only to be friendly, and that I should experience a bit of Ghanaian culture while I was here. I tried to think of a good reason to not give him my number, but as I had my phone in my hand inevitably he took it and rang his phone with it. Eventually I made it to the office and I was finally free of Charles and the girl who had now been following me for approximately an hour.
I was pretty knackered when I got home in the evening, having been up since 4.45, but tonight was beach party night so I snapped out of it. A fun, chilled out evening at the beach was the perfect way to end an amazing day.

Sunday 12th July
We had all stayed overnight at the beach, and in the morning were treated to the most amazing breakfast ever. It was only the standard hotel cooked breakfast choices but after existing on a diet of Rice Krispies for over a week it was a welcome change. We then went home, got our stuff and came back to the beach to enjoy the sun. In the evening we were visited by Lydia, a lady that makes clothes. We gave her a mountain of designs and fabrics, chilled out in the house then went to bed!

Monday 13th July
My first proper day at the Daily Guide was possibly one of the most boring days of my life. I was in a bad mood as was feeling pretty sick when I dragged myself out of bed, so was hoping I might have something to take my mind off the urge to vomit. With absolutely nothing to do- I asked for work several times but was met with a blank look- I went back to reading A Clockwork Orange. After what seemed like an age I was finally allowed to write up my story from Saturday. I can't remember how long it took exactly, but I spent a long time carefully wording my analysis of Barack Obama's visit from the perspective of ordinary people, comparing the reactions of traders, foreigners and rich and poor alike. I then watched as Sarah deleted it all with the words "this story is old now we need a new story," which irritated me somewhat as I had told her exactly what I was planning to write, then I had to watch as she took the precious few sentences she had not deleted and crafted them into gramatically incorrect English. After being sent to the internet cafe to send my massacred story, I was feeling more sick so decided to exaggerate my illness so I could go home and go to the beach. Unfortunately this backfired as the moment I arrived the sun went in and never re-emerged. My annoyance was relieved somewhat by the return of fabric lady with a pair of the most amazing trousers ever for me, then in the evening I was off out.

Tuesday 14th July
Unfortunately, on Monday evening I learnt that you shouldn't drink a lot of gin when you feel a bit rough to start with. Feeling like death, I decided to call in sick to the newspaper. I then recovered enough to go in to town and get more fabric then head to the beach. When I arrived home, I found out that the next day I would be based at the TV station in the morning from 8am onwards to research stories then would write them up at the newspaper in the afternoon. Sounds good to me!

Wednesday 15th July
At 7.30, I was washed, dressed and about to leave for work when Gladys, the house cook, came to tell me that Eric had called last night to say I didn't need to be in until 9. Bitter that I had lost out on an hour in bed and could now not get back to sleep, I just sat in bed for a bit listening to my ipod and muttering to myself about the inability of Ghanaians to effectively communicate information.
At 9am, I arrived at the TV station and sat around and did nothing for an hour. However this was actually rather pleasant as I got chatting to Barbara, Dutch journalist here for two months who I would be going out with to research stories. We were going to be making a series of short films to be shown on Coastal TV to encourage local people to visit the nearby tourist attractions which are normally frequented by western travellers. First up, Hans Cottage Botel. Hans Cottage is a hotel, restaurant and a lake full of crocodiles, which freely wander around. We were filming the traditional tour of Hans Cottage Botel, complete with crocodile filming. I was taken by the guide to stroke the crocodile, so soon Coastal TV viewers will be able to see the terror in my eyes as the guide takes my hand and edges it closer and closer to the crocodile's mouth. To recover I had three pancakes and four pieces of French toast in the restaurant. Back at the TV station, I had a great time helping edit the footage and whilst I had come here for print media, was actually rather enjoying this TV malarkey instead.
In the evening I went out again and promptly got a portion of chips at Oasis. After a fun evening I experienced a Ghanaian egg sandwich for the first time, then headed to bed.

Thursday 16th July
The first part of the morning was spent editing our mini-documentary on Hans Cottage Botel, of which I got to do the voiceover. It was pretty exciting although I realised I do actually hate the sound of my own voice, but the newsreader from the station said it was good so I was happy! Barbara and I then went off to film an ostrich farm, only to realise that the ostrich farm was just a few ostriches in a field, so struggled to string enough footage together to produce anything of interest. We then headed in to town to make a few enquiries about a potential story for tomorrow, and I predictably got some more fabric! I have since realised that I am spending more money on fabric than anything else, but in my defence four of those fabrics were for presents.
In the evening went out for Kaitlyn's last night, had another egg sandwich!

Ciao for now,

Daniella

Wednesday 8 July 2009

An interesting introduction to the media in Ghana...

Monday 6th July
At 3pm, I turn up to my placement set to immerse myself in the life of a TV journalist. Unfortunately, the people that run Coastal TV aren't so keen. Apparently I must learn the ropes of production, then maybe after a week I will be able to go out and actually research some stories. I am given a tour of the offices and the studio. The studio is a sofa for all talk-based shows with some 70s synthetic fibre curtains as a backdrop, then a blue sheet for all other shows. The place where all the vision and sound mixing takes place is about the size of my living room. I am told today I will be observing, then tomorrow I might do something practical. Although I have been told by my project co-ordinator that I will be here for a week before going on to do print journalism, everyone at the station thinks that not only am I really interested in production, I am also here for the month. Everyone is so friendly and welcoming I don't have the heart to disagree. The first hour is spent watching DJ, the guy I am shadowing for the day, click some buttons during a programme called 'Sound Check-' presented by a guy determined to pretend he is on MTV and is kitted out in the latest in indoor sunglasses. Then we have a film- it's kid's time so Beauty and the Beast is showing. Am abandoned by DJ but am quite happy to sit and watch Beauty and the Beast, until my enjoyment is shattered by someone switching the film off during 'tale as old as time.' When I ask when the rest of the film will be shown, I am told "We have to finish film there as there is no more time." After ten minutes of adverts the next programme starts 15 minutes early. Hmm. The last programme that I will be observing before I get to go home is the news. The first news story is that a man has been beaten to death for stealing a goat. The next story is that Cape Coast has run out of cloth with Barack Obama's face on it. Finally, we have a news story on blind tennis, complete with video footage. At 8pm, having missed dinner back at the house, I can finally leave. As I walk along in the darkness and pouring rain, deftly avoiding puddles as I go, I wonder if this is really what I will be doing for the next month...


Tuesday 7th July
In the morning, everybody who has normal placements are out of the house. I contemplate exploring town more fully but it's pretty intimidating being the only white person around and don't want to go alone, so go to the internet cafe and kill some time on facebook before returning to the house to grab some lunch before work. I see the project co-ordinator Eric, and he asks how my placement was yesterday. I tell him that it's not really what I want to be doing as I am interested in journalism, not production. As I leave, everyone else comes back from their placements. Today I am given the job of being sound mixer for the day- something to do at last!! During Sound Check, we have the Ghanaian rapper Shasha Marley come in to talk about his concert to raise awareness of the child prostitution. He confidently states that child prostitution is a particular problem for girls- "For girls, it is a very bad problem because the girls get pregnant and have to drop out of school. For boys it is not so much of a problem as they cannot get pregnant."
I am getting used to being a sound mixer, and I must admit I am quite excited when my name is on the credits after the end of every programme- "Sound Mixer- Daniella Graham." Apparently I am very good at sound mixing. I decide it would be disrespectful to point out I am just pressing some buttons and occasionally turning a couple of switches up and down. Regardless, I feel proud of my success. Whilst this isn't what I came to Ghana to do, I feel that I can make the best of it and have an interesting time. Then Gifty, one of the people who runs the station, comes up to me. She has been lovely and welcoming the whole time I have been here, but now she looks slightly annoyed. "Eric tells me you do not like Central TV and you are going tomorrow to do print media." This is news to me, so try and be as polite as possible. But am secretely glad that tomorrow I will actually be embarking on some proper journalism.
In the evening we go to the festival at Elmina. It's all quite fun until I need the toilet... I have to wee over a hole in the ground. When I need to go to the toilet again I decide I would rather go home than face the hole toilet again. Another volunteer, Nicola, and I are currently being followed by a 16 year old boy who seems to have an unnatural interest in me. He tells me "Anything can happen tomorrow. Maybe one day we will be in a relationship." Unfortunately when we decide to go home he knows the taxi driver and insists on accompanying us in the taxi to ensure we get home safe. When he sees our house, he promises to come visit.


Wednesday 8th July

At last- I am finally entering the world of print journalism! Unfortunately there is torrential rain. I am introduced to Alan, who runs the Cape Coast office of The Chronicle. We are supposed to be going to a press conference, but cannot get anywhere because of the rain, so we spend most of the day chatting. I read the newspaper and the other Ghanaian newspapers to get a feel of the media here and the house style of . Then Alan tells me about Ghanaian politics, a lot about the forthcoming visit by Barack Obama, and the history of Cape Coast. As he compares Cape Coast to Harare in Zimbabwe, things get a little bit heated. Here is a selection of Alan's views:

Iran: the elections were the fairest in the world, and the West is merely whipping up the demonstrations as part of western anti-Iran propaganda. Violence against protesters is orchestrated by the western media.
Zimbabwe: all of Zimbabwe's problems originate from Tony Blair. Mugabe is a fair and honest politician, Morgan Tsvangirai is a puppet of the West who if he gained power would give Zimbabwe to the West. The intimidation, violence against and murder of political opponents of Mugabe and the intimidation and violence against voters is perpetrated by western, especially British, journalists as part of a western propaganda conspiracy against Mugabe.
Ghana: all poverty in Ghana is because Britian did not put enough effort into building a good infrastructure during the colonial era. Britain needs to atone for the slave trade by paying reparations to Ghana, and rebuild the whole of Ghana to make bigger towns based on the model of Zimbabwe.

I acknowledge completely that the slave trade is a shameful period in Britain's history, and point out that nobody in Britain would justify slavery. Alan acknowledges that on the 200th anniversary of the end of the slave trade the President of Ghana said that he did not think Britain should pay reparations, but Alan confidently tells me this was because he was paid by the West to say this. In the end we agree to disagree, and Alan assures me that t this argument will be forgotten and tomorrow we will get on with some stories.

I head off to the internet cafe nearby- a different one this time- and am impressed by the fact that you can get bottles of coke for the equivalent of less than 30p. I am less impressed by the need to play Westlife on repeat.

Must dash, am now meeting other volunteers to wander around town, then off out tonight!

Daniella x

Monday 6 July 2009

The adventures begin...

Thursday 2nd July
So after the obligatory two hours sat on the plane at Heathrow before take off, on Thursday 2nd July at approximately 10.30 I finally arrived at Accra airport, Ghana. As I queue up at passport control, I notice a sign boldly proclaiming 'Welcome to Ghana.' Underneath are the words, 'Welcome to Ghana. We are glad you are here. Unless you are a sexual predator or a paedophile, then go home.' A random choice of greeting I feel, but fair enough! I then meet Eric, the man in charge of Global Volunteer Projects in Ghana, and head off to a hostel for the night before heading to Cape Coast in the morning.

Friday 3rd July
I have been told to meet in reception at 7.10, so I set my alarm for 6.30, showered, dressed, gathered my belongings and dragged my suitcase downstairs. As I got down to the rather dark reception I realised that I had not changed my phone to Ghana time (which is an hour earlier) and it was in fact only 6am. Oops. After an hour twiddling my thumbs Eric came and we set off for the STC (coach) station to get the 8am coach to Cape Coast, where I would be based. When the coach came to the station at 9am, I realised that Ghana time was vastly different to the rest of the world's generally accepted understanding of time.

In Cape Coast I was given a brief tour of the town (I'll describe more fully when I explore it fully!) and then got back to the house where I would be staying with the other volunteers. It transpired that a few of the volunteers were going to Kumasi for the weekend, and did I want to come? A couple of hours later I found myself on a tro-tro to Accra as there were no direct tro-tros to Kumasi. For those of you that don't know, a tro-tro is essentially a less safe version of a minibus. You feel every jolt and shudder in the road, are crammed in like sardines and are often in fear of your life, so realising that after the two hour journey to Accra there was another four hours to go I was started to wish I had opted for a quiet night in instead. At Accra we invested in a much more expensive tro- tro, but one which was newer, comfier and even had air condition! As we sailed on past the other more rickety tro-tros we all felt quite smug and satisfied that this would be a much more pleasant journey. Then we got a flat tyre. We eventually arrived in Kumasi at 4am, but thanks to useless taxi drivers who had no idea where our hostel was, we didn't make it to our hostel until 5.30am. We later discovered that the hostel was a five minute walk from where we had got in the taxi.

Saturday 4th July
After an exhausting nine hours on coaches and tro-tros the previous day, I was looking forward to a nice shower when I woke up. Then I discovered there was no running water. I went to put my phone on to charge whilst I tried to discover what the problem was, only to find there was no electricity. When I attempted to ask why Guestline Lodge was nothing more than a series of beds with a roof I received just one word in response- 'recession.' Of course.

Thirsty, dirty and hungry we headed to Vic Baboo's, a nearby cafe which had been recommended in our guidebook. After being accosted by several rastafarians confidently telling us that we wanted a lopsided painting or maybe a dodgy pot we hoped the food was good. We were not disappointed. After a decent meal and dousing ourselves in water we headed to Kumasi market, the main purpose of our visit. The market stretches further than the eye can see, and is a mass of noise and colour. Everywhere you went people would shout at you to buy their goods, tap you on the shoulder to try and persuade you to come to their stall or just follow you in the hope of getting money. Whilst most of the stalls are really only of interest to the locals, (unless you particularly want a pair of old flip flops or a shower cap) there is plenty for everyone. Eventually we found the cloth section, which was what we were all here for. Here you can buy material and then take it to a woman who makes it into anything you like! The choice was huge, and the fabrics were all beautiful, but eventually I managed to narrow it down to three different fabrics. I will let you know how the clothes turn out...

In the evening we went back to Vic Baboo's for dinner and cocktails, then headed to Vienna City for a bit of gambling. Kaitlyn and I bet big on the roulette- 10 CD, or about five pounds. After a lucky streak, we decided to quit while we were ahead and mangaged to quadruple our money. Harriet and Joe were less fortunate, and after a tense two hours had both developed a gambling addiction and lost all of their 10 CD. At about 2am, upon returning to the hostel discovered that the previously not working shower had started working again, but the tap was on and now our room was 1cm deep in water. Never mind, at least we had water...

Sunday 5th July
After waking up to a room still slightly flooded, we headed to the STC station to get a direct coach back to Cape Coast. Unfortunately not only was there not a coach until 2pm, everywhere was shut. We went back to the hostel and after an hour's wait were treated to a selection of breakfast dishes. Unfortunately they were all slightly congealed and no meal correlated to our actual order, but beggars can't be choosers.

Our coach actually left before 2.30 which I found quite impressive, but thoughts of a smooth journey home were premature. After two hours we stopped at a bridge, where we were told we would have to wait for 15 minutes until another coach could meet us at the other side. After being harassed for 45 minutes by a woman clutching a dead fish we eventually made it back to Cape Coast unscathed, and got an early night ready for placements the next day.

Monday 6th July
I was told I would be picked up at 8am. At 8.30 someone told me that the person picking me up was busy. Eventually I make it to the TV station, only to be told that my placement will be 3pm-7.30pm. Will update you on my placement in a few days time. Hopefully!

Bye for now,
Daniella x

Wednesday 1 July 2009

Hello!

Hi everyone! (I say that in the hope that more than one person reads this...)

I have pondered the possibility of getting a blog for a while now, but thought that I had nothing interesting to say. Whether I now have anything of interest to say is still up for debate but I thought a trip to Ghana for a month was as good an excuse as any to get blogging.

I shall keep this first post relatively brief as still have an awful lot of packing to do, but here we go...

Tomorrow, at 2.25pm to be precise, I shall be off to Cape Coast, Ghana for a month to do a journalism work experience placement. I don't really know exactly what I am going to be doing to be honest! I was going to be based at a newspaper in the capital, Accra, but flash flooding has put paid to that. I am now going to Cape Coast and will be based at a TV and radio station, which should be fun but not what I was expecting so we shall see how it goes. I am staying in a house with people doing various other placements; teaching, medicine and HIV/AIDs placements, and will be linking up with them at some point as part of a project to raise awareness of HIV/AIDs in Ghana. I am excited and nervous, but even though I leave tomorrow it still doesn't quite feel real! I feel a bit bitter leaving behind a heatwave in England to experience Ghana's rainy season but am thinking a month in Africa will be more interesting than sitting around the house in Dorset doing nothing...

Preparation has been slightly panicked. I spent the last two weeks doing a work experience placement at a magazine in London, got back to Cardiff then was going back to Dorset on the Sunday so had minimal time to pack up all my stuff. I had a three hour panic when I couldn't find my yellow fever certificate- it's compulsory to enter the country- but eventually managed to find it in a random file in my bedroom. Managed to fill my suitcase so much that I couldn't actually lift it, so think today's packing needs to be a bit more brutal... Maybe 18 books, 27 outfit options and 10 pairs of shoes aren't strictly necessary? Anyway I better actually get on with packing my stuff instead of writing about it. I will try and get online as regularly as possibly, at least once a week, to keep you updated with all my adventures. I shall also be checking facebook and stuff but have been repeatedly told that the internet speed in Ghana isn't brilliant so apologies in advance if I only communicate via this blog! Hope you are all enjoying the heatwave!

Speak soon,

Daniella x