The Harmattan

The “Harmattan” is an annual trade wind that that blows massive amounts of sandy dust from the Sahara and dumps it on West Africa. Returning from my travels in East Africa, I stepped out onto the tarmac in Ghana and into a brown haze. The dust was stifling, and it was so thick you could stare directly into the afternoon sun! It has been like that all this month—they say these winds will pass soon, but I’m not holding my breath (although sometimes I think it would be healthier).

Thankfully, my new place in Ho is a nice respite from the dusty outdoors. A well-to-do community elder has offered me what is basically a two-room suite in his large compound, and I couldn’t have asked for a nicer get-up—it is incomparably more luxurious than my village abode. Don’t get me wrong—I loved the family I stayed with and the hominess of the place, but my room was the size of a prison cell, lit by a 15W car bulb, and had a foam “mattress” which permanently held the mold of my body. So when I saw the quality of this place, I was practically overwhelmed. In fact, I actually had reservations about giving up the one-with-the-people, I’m-in-Africa lifestyle, but I’ve promptly done away this notion as I sit here writing in my own living room. And don’t worry, I’ve maintained the basics like the bucket shower and brushing my teeth in the yard.

Ok, on to more substantive matter—the school. The school we are assisting here is a government school in a poor village just outside the city. My NGO funded the construction of a new building last year, which replaced the aluminum roof stuck on four rickety wooden beams that they were using before. In return, the government very publicly promised to support the school in other ways, from furnishing the interior to providing additional teachers. This may not surprise you, but they have done almost none of what they’ve promised. And the majority of the teachers that are there are apathetic and/or truant. On any given day, at least two classrooms full of students sit idly the whole day through. Anyway, so this is what I’m walking into. But then again, I don’t know if I’d feel at home anymore in a well-functioning school…

I spend about 40% of my time teaching. I am the junior high science teacher, and I love it. For one, it’s science, which is what I really wanted to teach all along. More importantly, although the kids are as behind as the ones I taught last year, the fact that they are older makes it easier to reason with them intellectually instead of focusing so much on classroom management. Of course, I think half of the kids don’t understand what I say for any given sentence, but I repeat everything three different ways and the better English speakers usually help out the weaker ones. Plus, now that I’ve learned the language a bit, I sometimes throw in a phrase in their own dialect to catch them off guard!

The other 60% of my time I will classify as building community, school, and government relations, discussing and investigating new project possibilities, and pressuring specific officials or contractors to complete the already-promised work (i.e., construction of library shelves, access to on-grid electricity, etc.). I have done a good job so far of tempering myself to not fall into the unsustainable role of acting headmaster or community organizer (think last year). I am trying to limit my role and work slow to get to know the situation in a more natural way (than last year). If there is a sustainable partnership our NGO can have with this particular school, I think it will take some time to truly hash that out. So I have accepted I won’t turn this school around in three months and simply go home, but I am hoping to gain some insights for the NGO’s long-term future work, support a few initiatives while I am here, and have a little fun with the kids. Oh, and stay indoors as much as possible.