Day 30: Est. 1957

AD 1957: Freedom and Justice

This morning at Independence Square!

55 years ago today, Ghana became the first African country (below the Saharan desert!) to gain independence from the British.











Every year, thousands of Ghanaians flock to Independence Square to enjoy the parade, the music, speeches from the President and a flyover from the Air Force. Random musicians and hawkers-a-plenty, it really was a brilliant day and a fitting end to an incredible month.







Got to run, got a flight to catch! But if you need me over the next few days, I'll be sleeping off my exhaustion and dreaming of Ghana.

Day 29: What's your sign?

There are a collection of symbols known as Adrinka which were created by the Akan tribe of Ghana. The symbols are often painted on pottery, sewn into cloth or used in advertising and each symbol has a different meaning.


My favourite of the many symbols is Gye Nyame (the others are also pretty cool, just search for "Adrinka symbols" on Google).

Gye Nyame means "Except God", showing that the wearer of the symbol fears nothing and noone "except God".

Even the plastic chairs!

It's not so much for religious reasons that I love the symbol so much. I simply admire the way that people embrace the symbol- It's everywhere. Painted on the side of houses, incorporated into the logo of a business' logo, it's even available as nail art!

So I guess it simply serves as a gentle reminder of the faith of the Christian folk here in Ghana.

Dear Diary... (day 28)

No more clichés, you know what I’m thinking.

I come back to this every week and I always feel the same- I can’t wait to get home but I don’t want to leave! But it’s worse now that I’ve finished my placement as it has really put things into perspective- I’ve actually completed the task that brought me to Ghana after so many years. What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was just how overwhelming this experience would be and how what I’ve seen and learnt extends way past my work at Korle Bu Teaching Hospital. I didn’t expect that I’d get on with my cousins half as much as I have, nor did I expect to fully embrace skipping gutters or lights out (don’t know how I’ll live without it…) but 28 days later, I can’t imagine what it’s gonna be like when I get back to SE5.

For now, if you need me, I’ll be enjoying my last few days in the sun.

Day 27: M-Z

Finally here! Letters M-Z.

M is for Milo, a tasty chocolate drink that is actually available in the UK (if you look really hard). Special mention to my other new favourite brands- PEAK, Ideal and, of course, FAN MILK!

N is for Nicole O-ka-ni-sayn? (see day 9)

O is for Old MacDonald. You know, the one who owns the farm? As in, there are animals roaming around EVERYWHERE! Last week, five cows were casually crossing the road (I wish I had a photo) and yesterday a goat walked into our compound. We have Humble, the dog, who you’ve already met as well as a few chickens, a cockrel and a lizard who comes to visit every now and again…

P is for Plantain, a savoury banana which is cut into thick wedges before being boiled, baked or fried! Plantain can be cut into very thin slices and lightly salted to make plantain crisps (also available in the UK) or cut into small chunks and seasoned to make kelewele. Yum.

Q is for Quiz Night (yes, we're that cool). Our favourite game= Ludo! 

R is for RHC (Reproductive Health Centre) and all my other new friends at Korle Bu Teaching Hospital. I’ll miss you!

S is for Sugar Cane. Sugar cane is magical stuff which grows in a similar way to bamboo shoots. The canes are used to make sugar as we know it more commonly in 1kg bags but the natural occurring sticks can be cut into chunks and chewed. Warning: only suitable for those with super sweet teeth!

T is for tro tro. Still scarred.

U is for Umbrellas. The rain here is always torrential and often leads to a few leaky gutters (not pleasant!) but the storm is usually over in half an hour and the sun returns soon after.

V is for Vendors. And by vendors I mean Hawkers. How I shall miss them. (see day 10)

W is for Wahala! For more lingo, see day 16!

X is for Xylophone. Oh what? I couldn’t think of anything!

Y is for “yele”, the Ga word for Yam. African yam is not to be confused with what Americans call “yams” as they’re referring to sweet potatoes (ahem, Alice!). African yams look a bit like tree stumps from the outside and their completely white inside, very starchy and not sweet at all. Actually, they’re slightly bitter. However, when boiled to perfection, yam is DELICIOUS with stew. Better still are fried yam chips. I’m addicted.

And finally,

Z is for Zongo Junction, a crazy part of town with lots of bars and restaurants and loud, crazy, always-wide-awake people. 

My kind of crowd.

Day 26: All good things...

Today was my last day shadowing the doctors and nurses at Korle Bu Teaching Hospital, Accra.

Action shot taken from the car!

This week, I was in the Cardiothoracic Centre shadowing the amazing Dr Nii (a shy but super talented House Officer who treated me a lot like Danny (see day 19)!) whilst also finding time to pop into theatre to watch the magical Dr Sereboe at work (messy stuff, don't worry, I won't give you the details...). The CTC is well funded so unlike the Obs & Gynae wards there's a lot less improvisation!

Admittedly, I didn't understand what was happening in every case (for the complications in some patients were extensive to say the least and the medical terms beyond my understanding) but I certainly picked up on a lot of things, like how to carry out chest exams (AS Level Biology suddenly became incredibly useful) and how to take blood (I'm a total pro now! Kind of).

With Nurse Carolyn

Yet again, I've been overwhelmed by the spirit, valour and dedication of the doctors and nurses of the CTC team. I'm sad to leave all the people I've met but truly grateful for their hospitality and support over the last week. 

In fact, I'm thankful for all the people who have made this placement so wonderful- To those who helped me find the way to meet the new staff of each department, to the ones who shared their biscuits with me when I'd forgotten my own, the professionals who exercised extreme patience as I struggled to tear bits of plaster and the nurses who simply laughed as I learnt how to fill a syringe. To the wonderful individuals who have made the last three weeks unforgettable- thank you.

Day 25: G-L

Humble the dog. He hates me.

Right, time to pick up where I left off a few days ago.


Today, G-L.



G is for Gutter Skipping. Still got it. (See day 18).

H is for Humble, our friendly guard dog... Look how cute he is with his razor sharp teeth and glowing eyes and hairs standing on end...

I is for Independence Day which will be the subject of my last blog post in Ghana (next Tuesday!!)

Learning to drive already!

J is for Junior, my adorable little cousin, Cosmo Tetteh Ashley III. He's so cute, I mean looooook...







K is for Korle Bu Teaching Hospital, the national hospital where I've spent the last few weeks shadowing some inspiring people (see days 8, 11 and 19). Last day tomorrow :(

and finally,

L is for Lagoon. It's used as a dumping ground for waste and if your taxi driver is kind enough, he'll roll up the windows as you drive by. Unfortunately, this photo was taken from my seat in a trotro.

The driver didn't even blink.

Day 24: Baby On Board

Long before baby companies designed giant sling shots to carry babies in (but sort of around the time that Native Americans used devices called papooses to carry their children) African women have been carrying their babies on the backs.

It's really simple. (I would have liked to demonstrate in photos myself but noone would let me borrow their child...)

1. Bend over until your back is almost horizontal to let the baby lie down
2. Place the baby on your back and pull a length of cloth around your waist and under baby's arms
3. Tie the first knot just above your chest
4. Pull babies feet up towards ribs and tie a second knot below your tummy
5. Ta da! The little one should be snug as a bug.

And it really works. I know my mum carried me around like this (I was a fat baby, my mum couldn't carry me by any conventional means) and women across Africa embrace this method too. It's a bit like carrying a living rucksack and I can honestly say, first hand, it's really really comfy.

Day 23: What to wear?

An example of a typical, custom made
top and skirt in traditional print

To be honest, I don't really follow Ghanaian trends in terms of what the most popular style of skirt slit is or who the most prominent designers are in Ghana but I just thought I'd share a few of the fundamentals.

So in Africa, prints are big! Brightly coloured prints are usually worn to church, parties and other happy occasions. Some societies and organisations have custom made prints that are available for all members to buy and have sewn into the style they want e.g. a group of girls at church last week representing St Mary's Secondary School, Accra, all had a matching blue and white cloth, embroidered with their school logo, which each girl had had sewn into a style of her choice.  (I wish I had a few photos to illustrate this- I'll work on it!).

Funeral wear

Similarly, if someone dies, their relatives choose a black and white, black and brown or black and red (depending on the clan/ tribe the individual belonged to) printed cloth for all relatives to buy and have tailored in time for the funeral.













I hope the pictures give you a better idea of what I mean, (I'll add more if I can find a few more examples!), sorry to keep the post short, but I'm a little weary of the electricity at the moment (see day 22...).

Dear ECG... (a slightly delayed day 22)

Dear ECG,

I am at my wit's end. This "lights out" business has gotten out of hand.

Never mind that I have to pick out the clothes that don't need ironing for work in the morning as I have been unable to iron the night before.
Never mind that I can't sleep as it's 28 degrees outside AND inside in the middle of the night as the ceiling fan isn't working.
NEVER MIND that I can't even make a cup of tea to settle my nerves during this distressing time because my kettle won't switch on.

It's fine. Just fine. You keep turning off the electricity.

But rest assured, that if any of your technicians ever step foot in London town I will make it my personal mission to find their electricity line and cut the power to their hotel room.

I'd like to see you cope without electricity when it's -2 degrees.

How d'you like me now?

Just be grateful that I'm leaving in a week and overlooking this series of unfortunate events. Otherwise I'd be suing the company for gross negligence and seeking compensation in the form of several truckloads of Fan Ice to take back to the UK.

Just be grateful that I'm willing to look past your incompetence as it has allowed me to spend more time with my cousins, relaxing outside the house at night (as it's so much cooler), listening to music and watching the traffic go by (whilst eating Fan Ice, of course) as well as the fact that I can actually see the stars a million times better when the whole city is under complete darkness, and that, actually, the gas stoves we have mean I'm never really without a cup of tea.

Just be grateful.

Yours sincerely,



A Very Unhappy Londoner who had to postpone this blog post due to another night of lights out and an uncharged laptop.

P.S. As I write this, the lights are out.

True story.




ECG stands for Electricity Company Ghana.
Don't worry, tempting as it is, I won't actually be sending this letter.
And yes, the lights really are out, again, for the third time in 60 hours, at the time of publishing this post.

Dear Diary... (day 21)

Cannot believe it's been three weeks already! Tomorrow marks the start of our last full week here as well as my first day in a new department at Korle Bu Teaching Hospital- Cardiothoracics! I'm both nervous and excited about the week ahead and there shall be a review on my time in the department at the end of the week.

Undoubtedly, the best part of the past week has been working on the Obs wards (see day 19) but I'm still mindful of what I learnt in the Reproductive Health Centre the week before (see day 11).

I cannot ignore the growing sense of dread as I face the prospect of leaving Ghana in just nine days! I'm looking forward to being back home in London (I'll be able to use my iPhone again! ..ahem, and see my family and friends, of course...) but there's no doubt that I'm going to miss Ghana so so much; my cousins, new friends from Korle Bu, the weather, the laid back atmosphere. Knowing that I'll be returning to cold, grey Terminal 5 with nothing to do for a month after having such an incredible time here is going to be tough.

But for now, I won't dwell on the future too much (it hurts my head and it's lights out at the moment so I can't be bothered to feel around for the paracetamol...) so instead, time for a Fan Ice.

Well it's lights out, what else am I supposed to do?!

Day 20: Road Triiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip

The view from the passenger seat. Clockwise from top left: a tro tro driving next to us, the road to Nungua, Independence Square, by the sea.

Today we went on a road trip!

Ok so it wasn't really a road trip. We were only in the car (with my favourite taxi driver friend, Appiah) for about an hour, but it was a great route with lots to see.

I always forget that Accra is on the coast (for some reason I find it weird that a capital city lies on the coast...) so it's always a pleasant surprise after driving for about 7 mins to find that we're right by the sea (specifically, the Gulf of Guinea). As usual, there was quite a bit of traffic and where there's traffic, hawkers will surely follow.

Down by the sea...

The area we visited is called Nungua (pronounced noon-gwah), and it was complete chaos! People everywhere darting between traffic, shouting and yelling, dancing in the streets. No lie.

We went to see some family friends and their gorgeous children. I mean, looook... >>

Creepy camera lady

And then we were off again, speeding down the motorway, snap snap snapping away...

Day 19: Duly noted.

Today was my last day shadowing the wonderful doctors and nurses of Obstetrics & Gynaecology at Korle Bu Teaching Hospital.

Gynaecology Outpatients Waiting Room

I started in the Maternity Outpatients department, helping the nurses carry out glucose and protein tests in urine, glucose and HIV tests on blood and weighing babies (never seen so many babies in one place at one time! And so SMALL!). I also noticed that all the ladies with newborns were dressed similarly as it is traditional for Ghanaian women to wear black and white or blue and white printed cloth for up to six months following delivery.

Dr Mensah hard at work

I spent the rest of the week on the Obstetrics wards (with a few hours working in the Gynaecology clinic) shadowing the wonderful Dr Isaac (who has just graduated from medical school and started his first day on Obs & Gynae) and the fabulous Danny (who insists on calling me Miss Head Girl if I dare address him as Dr Mensah). It's inspiring to see how efficiently the two doctors work with the resources they have. They don't have an ultrasound machine to wheel around to listen to the foetal heartbeat so instead they have a rather archaic device called a pinard horn (you have got to Google it). All notes are taken by hand and an individual's medical history is kept in a folder.

No computer databases here.

In Ghana, "dress down friday" is also called "African Way" Friday so the doctors whip out these rather tasteful, bright shirts... (T.I.A... << see day 16!)

I cannot help but admire the determination and drive of these doctors considering what they have to work with. There's no doubt that they are often frustrated by the obstacles they face (as they're fully aware that in other parts of the world there are huge blood banks and multiple CT scanners within just one hospital, healthcare is free and there are endless supplies of stationery) but in spite of this, they continue to improvise with what they have, saving lives every day.


But most of all, they're brilliant people. Incredibly talented and ridiculously funny.

But it's what Danny said to me on my first day that I won't ever forget.

In response to my reaction at a patient's condition, he said,

"Hey.

Learn not to show emotion."


Duly noted Dr Mensah.


I mean, Danny.

Day 18: How to...

...become a pro gutter skipper. Like me!


So in a few of my earlier posts I've mentioned "gutter skipping".

Gutter skipping is not an official/ recognised term but its pretty clear what it is- skipping gutters. Well, more precisely, jumping over gutters.

In Accra (I can't speak for the rest of the country...), the gutters are open- they are simply, uncovered shallow tunnels that run between the pavement and the street. So if you need to cross the road, you need to learn how to gutter skip (every few metres there's the occasional plank of wood but that's no fun!).

How to Gutter Skip: Tips & Tricks

• It's best just to take a large step over the gutter; if you misjudge a jump, you could fall in. Grim.
• Do not, however, spend too long resting with one foot on either side of the gutter. If you lose your balance, it'll be a total disaster. A quick, light step will get you over, hence the term "skip"
• If the gutter seems a little wide then seek out a plank to walk over instead
• BEWARE: a plank of wood is a plank of wood. Don't jump on it!

And whatever you do, DON'T LOOK DOWN...

Unless you're as brave as these two.

Day 17: A - F

Apologies for the lateness of today's post, feeling slightly under the weather!
But I'm always prepared, so for days when I fall a little short I've compiled an A-Z of all things Ghanaian to keep you entertained.

Today, A-F.

Pounding fufu, a cassava-based ball 
 eaten with soup.

A is for AKWAABA = Twi (a Ghanaian dialect) word for "Welcome!"

B is for Banku = a ball of corndough (soaked and fermented maize) which is usually eaten with fish or okro stew. Also related to kenkey which also has a corndough base.

C is for Cousins. Aren't they just the best :)

D is for Dansoman = the area in Accra where our family home was built my Grandad (who started calling me Banku when I was a baby -because I was so so fat- and has continued to call me Banku to this day. I'm even saved as Banku on his phone. I'm convinced he doesn't know my real name...)

E is for English language since English is still the official language of Ghana

I was SO tempted to hijack this truck and drive it all the way back to the UK...

And finally, F is for Fan Ice.


I'm totally addicted.

Day 16: Word on the street

Ok so I'm completely exhausted from work today (started on the Obstetrics ward and it was brilliant!) so forgive me for how short today's post is...

I want to share a few bits of Ghanaian (/general African) lingo with you, so if you're ever in Accra you don't stick out too much. 

DISCLAIMER: These words alone will not save you. 

Oh and once again, I've used my creative license...

Konkonsah (pronounced coh-con-sah) = word used to describe a gossip.

"She is the biggest konkonsah"

Wahala (pronounced wa-ha-la) = trouble

"Nicole, your mum is calling you!" "Uh oh, wahala for meeee"

Brofolisation (pronounced broh-foh-lisation) = meaning "very British", mostly used to refer to someone with a strong British accent.

"I cannot understand a word this Londoner is saying! This is brofolisation to the fullest..."

Mobo (pronounced moh-boh- not moe-boe) = meaning "sorry" or "that's sad"
"Mate, I sprinted to the bus stop but the bus driver just ignored me and drove on!" "Oh that's so unfortunate, mobo!"

--also, Mobo-ful = adj form.
"Got home late, not enough dinner left for me, it was so mobo-ful..."

Kwakwey (pronounced kwah-kwey) = a rat. Often used as an insult.

"And don't come back... KWAKEY!"

Cacalica (pronounced ka-ka-li-ka) = a cockroach. Often used as an insult.

"Ignore him, he's a known cacalica"

And finally, my personal favourite...

T.I.A. = This is Africa. What EVERYONE keeps saying to me when I express my qualms about things such as "lights off" and "gutter skipping"...

Day 15: "It don't matter if you're black or white"

Van Vicker, popular African actor,
in an advert for Bel-Aqua water

Today's blog post really just addresses my own ignorance and what I like to call Jesus of Nazareth Syndrome.

Jesus of Nazareth, the 1977 film starring Robert Powell, is basically a British film illustrating the life of Jesus as recorded in the New Testament (if you haven't seen it, watch it- religious or not, these 5 hour Bible epics are just brilliant).

Anyway, this film (alongside many similar adaptations) has very British actors playing what should be Israeli individuals. Skin tones- pale, accent- British. Not at all realistic unless the film is renamed Jesus of Nottingham.

Similarly, in European churches, Jesus, Mary and Joseph are often depicted as pale and very.. well, European looking.

So imagine my face when I walked into a Ghanaian church last week and saw a statue of a black Jesus staring back at me.



Exactly.

It really got me thinking about how industries need to use appropriate models depending on their target audience and I started to notice this in Ghanaian advertising.

Ghanaian people.

On Ghanaian billboards.

On Ghanaian adverts.

On Ghanaian posters.

And please, don't get me wrong, it's not to say that I've never seen black people on billboards and posters before. For me, it's been more of a reality check- the world doesn't start and end in London and people will relate to people like themselves.
And it's exactly for this reason that British models are of different ethnicities- Britain is a wonderfully diverse, multicultural nation.


Put simply (and with all due respect), Ghana isn't.

So why was I surprised that the faces of the advertising industry in Ghana are all Ghanaian?


Diagnosis:
Jesus of Nazareth Syndrome

Recommended treatment:
4 weeks in sunny Accra.

Just a note to say...

THANK YOU!

I have been completely overwhelmed with the response from everyone who has read this blog, and I'm truly grateful for all the kind words and comments.

I only hope that this blog continues to illustrate, inform, shock and entertain you as I continue to document my time in this wonderful country.

So keep reading, commenting and passing this on.

1000 pageviews and counting!

Dear Diary... (day 14)

It's pretty much halfway through my time here and I hate to whip out a cliché in the very first sentence but time flies!

Having said that, I cannot tell a lie, I am a little homesick.

I miss the pace of London, the constant buzz, the urgency.

And yet, in a way, it's exactly this that I don't miss- the urgency, the rush, the lack of time.

"I don't have the time..."
"I ran out of time..."
"If only there was more time..."

Here, time is not of the essence.

It's more like a guide to the time of day things kinda sorta should happen (as demonstrated at yesterday's wedding which started at 12.30pm though the invitation said 10am start...)

Anyway, I'm rambling.

What I'm trying to say is that the things I miss about London are also the things that kinda drive me mad.

E.g.

The weather.
The people.
Public transport.

So I guess today's post should've been called "The Grass Is Always Greener" but instead it's the standard seven day review "Dear Diary" entry.

I'm rambling again.

Let's try one more time.

It's been another brilliant week in sunny Accra (though it did rain today- torrential!) and I guess the lesson I've learnt this week is to always be grateful for what we have, no matter how small or insignificant it may feel at the time (with special reference to my post on Day 11).

This week, I'm on the Obstetrics wards.

Many a story about many a newborn baby to follow, I'm sure.

Day 13: Dancing in the dark

Today, I went to a wedding and it was fantastic. We're home now and even though it's lights out (see Day 1) we're still in high spirits, hence, today's blog title.
So nothing's gonna stop me from blogging (well, as long as my laptop battery doesn't die...)



Ghanaian weddings are colourful, vibrant, loud and simply brilliant. There was a live band and lots of singing and dancing between readings and sermons. The reception was held outside (it's always at least 30 degrees here) under several large marquees and, as expected, there was more dancing and lots of food and drink.

The best thing about the wedding was the sense of community surrounding the entire affair. As well as friends and family, all members of the church were invited to the service and reception (even though they don't all know the bride and groom personally) and as the bridal cars drove through traffic, pedestrians and street vendors waved and cheered. All the food was made by family and friends and the venue was also courtesy of a friend (as were the photographers and even the entertainers).




And since the bride and groom went to school together (just around the corner from the church and venue), all their favourite teachers were in attendance to wish them well.

It was a true family affair.

Day 12: Blue and yellow, blue and yellow...

<< The kids in Ghana are so so cute. I mean, loooook...

In Ghana, all children wear uniform from nursery right through to the end of senior school. Each school has it's own school colours with a uniform to match. It's clear to see that Ghanaian kids take pride in their uniform (no skirt rolling here!), and every child looks impeccable at 8am (though by 3pm this is no longer the case) but I've definitely been a little overwhelmed by some of the colours. 

Anyway, here's a collection of my favourite uniforms so far. 

A little loud? Maybe.

Fabulous? ABSOLUTELY.

Day 11

Fact: Across the world, breast cancer kills more women than any other cancer.

Fact: In Ghana, more women die of cervical cancer than breast cancer every year.

Fact: 99.7% of cervical cancer cases are caused by the Human Papiloma Virus (HPV).

Fact: It takes between 8 and 12 years for this virus to infect cells and lead to a carcinoma (and, therefore, cancer of the cervix).

So in 2010, why were 79,000 Ghanaian women diagnosed with a cancer that takes a decade to develop? And why did 62,000 of these women lose their lives?

--------

About 80% of all women will have the HPV virus in their lifetime. In some cases, an individual's own immune system will lead to spontaneous regression, preventing the development of cervical cancer. However, in most cases, the virus will live within the cells of the cervix (therefore, preventing immune response) and trigger cell division to the extent of the formation of a carcinoma. Since the cancer takes so long to develop, interval screenings are used to detect the presence/ absence of HPV. If a woman comes back HPV positive, there's usually plenty of time to treat her before a cancer develops.

In the UK, we whine and complain when our GP writes to us remind us about appointments and check ups and boosters and vaccinations, and most women "just don't have the time" to get a smear test.

But in Ghana, no one writes to you.

Women have to register for smear tests themselves and pay 40GHC (about £15). But only the women who have been educated in the benefits of smear tests will seek this treatment and even those in the know may not be able to afford the procedure so many of us take for granted.

There is an HPV vaccine (2008) used to immunise young women (which is administered to 12/13 year olds in the UK with a catch up mass immunisation of girls up to the age of 18) which is completely free on the NHS in the UK. In Ghana, however, the complete vaccine costs 210GHC (about £80).

Even if the majority of women across Ghana were screened regularly, there are only 20 active cytologists in the country, therefore, a backlog of cases would be inevitable.

Despite all these barriers, the team at the Reproductive Health Centre at Korle Bu Teaching Hospital, are finding ways to promote the risk factors associated with contracting HPV as well as educating women in the importance of screening every few years. The team are looking to start work with Healthcare Officers in CHP Zones (Community based Health Planning) i.e. in rural areas and remote villages in order to educate women there and carry out simple smear procedures in pop-up clinics. Since there is no nationwide programme so far, these community based systems would be the best way to reach the masses.

This is not the part where I direct your attention to a charity about cervical cancer awareness, nor do I want us to try and sympathise with the women across the world who aren't even aware that this cancer can be so easily avoided.

I simply want to applaud the work of the nurses and counsellors at Korle Bu Teaching Hospital who continue to work hard to reach out to the women of Ghana, and, most importantly, to remind us to be thankful for what we often take for granted.

Day 10: Sunglasses, anyone?

Young girl selling sachets of water to people
 on our trotro

The dictionary definition of hawking is:

hawk;

verb (used with object)

to peddle or offer for sale by calling aloud in public.

Sunglasses, anyone?

The definition above makes me think of old style vendors selling apples from well painted wooden carts along cobbled streets. In Ghana, hawking is nothing like this.

Hawkers (basically, street vendors) sell anything from water to sunglasses to biscuits to broomsticks to chickens (ok, I’ve yet to see anyone sell a live chicken…).

In order to maximise their carrying ability, hawkers carry their stock on their head as shown in the pictures. The more you can carry, the more money you’ll make.

Hawking is not illegal but is forbidden in certain areas of Accra e.g. near Independence Square. But most hawkers are pretty fearless.

Like this guy.

Day 9: What's in a name?

Today, I spent another day work shadowing in the Reproductive Health Centre. I don’t want to scare you off with more stories of smear tests and injections so instead I’ll tell you the story of how I came to be called Nicole Ocansey.

So the Ocansey bit dates back a long long time ago to the people of Ada (pronounced Ah-daar) where my dad’s family are originally from.

DISCLAIMER

This is the story as it was told to me by my family when I was little. It may not be fact but I doubt it's a complete work of fiction. Nonetheless, it's a good story and totally plausible...

It’s believed that when the Portuguese (or it could have been the British; this bit I always forget) came to Ghana, the people of Ada were the first to meet them. Everytime the explorers tried to communicate with the chief of the Ada people, he would turn to one of his people and say “oh kan ni sayn?” (using creative license again!) which translates from Twi to English as “how do you say that?”- basically trying to understand what the foreigners were saying . Of course, with the language barrier, there was a lot of “oh kan ni sayn” –ing and eventually after repeating it many, many times, the explorers began to address the people of Ada as the O-ka-ni-sayn people which eventually lead to the Ocansey people.

True story.

I think.

As for the name Nicole, well that’s something to do with a popular Renault car advert from 1993. Thanks Dad.

Spot the odd one out:
One Ocansey, three Ashleys.

Day 8: Lesson learnt

Today was the first day of my placement at Korle Bu Teaching Hospital, Accra. Korle Bu is pretty much the King’s College Hospital of Ghana. I’ll be shadowing healthcare professionals in Obstetrics & Gynaecology and Cardiology (hello SURGERY!). First stop: Reproductive Health Centre!

Fact: I am not squeamish. The sight of blood doesn’t make me feel faint. When people show off their cuts and bruises, I’ll always lean in closer to take a better a look. But today, I learnt an invaluable lesson- always eat enough for breakfast.

Over the last seven days, because of the heat, I’ve had very little for breakfast and survived until tea time. This morning I ate the same amount as usual but by 11am heard a little rumbling in my stomach. A few minutes later, I was called to watch an implant insertion into a patient’s arm and after two minutes found that my eyes had difficulty focusing and my head had started to feel a little light. In spite of this, I stayed and watched until the end of the procedure (can’t have them thinking I’m not tough enough!) and whipped out the old “oh, it’s really warm in here, I might go and get a little water” before stumbling to a cool spot and knocking back an entire bottle.

But still, it was a fab day. I saw several contraceptive injections and implants (both into the arm) and even (apologies to any squeamish readers!) a few smear tests .

With Auntie Christie, matron of the
Reproductive Health Centre

I also sat in on a few counselling sessions, mostly introducing new couples to different contraceptive methods (basically, a UK style PSHE/ RS GCSE lesson. You know the ones.) and was surprised by how little most people knew about the various methods (since in the UK we learn about these things in detail before we're 16!).

I was, however, truly impressed by the support the staff give to their patients. They encourage couples to discuss the best options and there are motivational posters everywhere. 

My personal favourites from the “10 Ways To Talk To Her About Family Planning” poster were:

2) Talk to her after a bowl of fufu

5) Sing to her

7) Give her a piece of cloth, then talk to her.

NB. 

For men who choose option 7, I highly recommend Kente cloth. Always a winner.  

Dear Diary... (day 7)

What a week.

Admittedly, I found the first few days tough. The heat, as I've said a thousand times, is exhausting, but the shops don't seem so far away any more and I’m actually sleeping all the way through the night (yes, I know, I sound like a baby…).  The meals no longer lead to cramping (initially, my tummy found it difficult to adjust to multiple palm oil based meals) and even the early mornings heralded by our cockerel don’t seem as bad.

I’ve enjoyed being reunited with my cousins, travelling independently (esp. my visit to Kokrobite to see Oskar) and making new friends (everyone seems to know there’s a Londoner in Dansoman). The people are just brilliant (full of life, eager to please and incredibly hard-working) and it’s great being so close to the sea (I also really can’t complain about the weather).

From gutter skipping (I'm a total pro) to sipping on "minerals" (Ghanaian term for bottled soft drinks), riding on tro tros (ok, just the two are mentioned in Day 6) and attending a Sunday church service (it was really long- there were more than 1000 people present and each reading was read, first in English and then in Ga.), it's been a fantastic start.

Tomorrow, I start my placement at Korle Bu Teaching Hospital- I’m sure I’ll have stories to tell.

Day 6: Dear TfL...

Dear TfL,

All aboard

Having experienced the public transport in Ghana first hand, I have come to the conclusion that a lot can be done to improve the service of buses in London while also reducing the cost of the current fares.

Who needs internal heating when you can sit next to three other people in a row made for two? And trying to read the destination on the front of the bus can be such a strain on the eyes- a conductor who screams the destination at the top of his voice every 15 seconds would make the perfect substitute. In the interests of global warming, and road traffic in general, I would also like to recommend smaller, more compact buses with extra seating, delivering more people to their destinations more efficiently. And finally, I would like to promote the use of on-board radios to put people in a good mood and encourage sing-a-longs.

I hope you will take all my suggestions into consideration.

Yours sincerely,

A Londoner who has been changed by Ghana

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I will never be ungrateful for the buses in London ever again.

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In Accra, if you don’t have a car or a bike, there are only two ways to get around: by taxi or by tro tro (pronounced tror-tror).

Tro tros are minivans with extra seats to maximise seating capacity. They’re notorious for being over-crowded and smelly but like the buses in London, they’re a cheap and convenient way of getting around.

So today, I got on two tro tros, just to bring you this post.

From top left, clockwise: a rusty tro tro leaving Tema Station, the seat in front of me on the second tro tro, a young girl selling water to passengers while they wait, three rows of passengers in front of me.

The destination of the first tro tro we boarded was Tema (pronounced teh-mah) Station (an incredibly busy bus station with hundreds of stalls selling everything from food to clothes to souvenirs for tourists). Luckily, the tro tro was brand new so the seats were comfy and the engine ran smoothly. However, I was still pretty overwhelmed by the number of seats inside: “they attach an extra seat to the end of each row so they can fit as many people as possible into each tro tro”. 

A man (our bus conductor) collects the fare from new passengers (anything from 40 pesewas to 1 cedi, depending on the distance travelled) and, whilst the tro tro moves through traffic, leans out of the window yelling the name of the final destination to potential passengers. After the initial shock of just how cramped the vehicle was, the ride became quite pleasant (I even made a friend). But this was short lived as we soon arrived at Tema Station. 

The second tro tro we boarded was more like the tro tros I’d heard of. Old and rusty, with seats that had lost their padding and an engine that sounded like an old man coughing. It was the kind of vehicle that MOTs were made for. Eighteen of us squeezed into the grotty bus before the driver, and finally, the conductor came aboard. And away we went. Cramped, smelly and incredibly bumpy, it was a ride I'll never forget. 

But who needs a tro tro when there are taxi drivers like my new best friend, Appiah.

Appiah to the rescue!