Monday, December 27, 2010

(not quite) Home for the Holidays

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas and will have an equally nice New Year celebration...
As for me, I had a great time over the holidays! I came to Tamale with about 20 of my fellow volunteers to cook, bake, watch Christmas movies, and shoot off fireworks (because, after all, what's Christmas without fireworks?). It was a lot of fun-we ate until we made ourselves sick, lounged around a LOT, and enjoyed each others' company, but it still didn't FEEL like Christmas very much. It's hard for me to get in the holiday spirit without even remotely cold weather and no family around... But like I said, I still had a great time with everyone here! It was a pretty good "first Christmas away from home."

Last week, before coming to Tamale to celebrate Christmas, we finally put on the football camp that I've been helping to plan since October. We arrived in Savelugu on Sunday morning to put the final preparations in place before students started arriving on Sunday afternoon. I brought along 11 other Peace Corps volunteers to help with the camp, and soon the kids started showing up. We ended up having 61 kids representing about 30 villages in the Northern Region, ranging in age from 11-20 years old (I know that sounds strange to have such an age range, but somehow it worked out).  I quickly realized that although I had initially thought the camp would be led by the two other volunteers who I work closely with, I was basically the one in charge. This had  turned into "my" camp, since I had done the majority of the prep work and I had come up with the schedule and activities...

I have never been "in charge" of something as big as this project before, even before joining Peace Corps. I felt slightly overwhelmed and worried that I would not be able to execute the plans we had made, but God gave me a lot of grace and things went very smoothly. Starting on Monday morning and continuing on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, we had some football players from the Real Tamale United national football team graciously donate their time to lead drills for the boys and girls. Thank God they came, because there's no way the American volunteers (especially me) could have planned drills and set up scrimmages for hours without their help. After playing football all morning, our afternoons were devoted to education and small group sessions. We brought in various guest speakers, including a man living with HIV and a local radio personality named Mama Rush, to encourage the children and challenge them to pursue education and be an example to their friends. The guest speakers were absolutely fantastic; I could not have asked for better people to come and talk to the kids. Each day, the students were glued to whichever speaker was leading the discussion, and I think many kids lives were affected by their stories.

After listening to guest speakers, we spent the rest of our afternoons in small group formatted lessions, and Peace Corps volunteers led discussions on HIV/AIDS, stigmatization, gender equality, family planning, and setting goals for the future. We encouraged the kids to teach their friends and classmates what they had learned and be peer educators in their villages. There was a strong emphasis on continuing education and challenging the children to think about what they wanted to do in their lives professionally, considering many children in this area of the country drop out of school after Jr. High to be farmers or take over household responsibilities in their families. I was blown away by my fellow PC volunteers' commitment to really making connections with these kids, and I think the students really felt inspired by the volunteers and their words of encouragement. On the final day, when we broke into small groups to discuss our role models and share our plans for the future, one of the young girls chose me as her role model. She said she wanted to be like me and teach the children in her village about health. She said I was strong and not afraid to speak, and that I inspired her. I was beyond touched when I heard her say those things, it brought tears to my eyes.

On the final evening of the camp, a local football team approached me to ask if our campers could play a football match with them. I agreed that it would be fun, and soon there were huge crowds gathered to watch the big game. Our girls lost their game, but they played so well, and it was great to see how much they had improved during the week. Once our boys got on the field, we knew it would be a great game, and our campers fought their way to a 2-1 victory! The moment the game was over, all of the campers and PC volunteers rushed the field-there was yelling and dancing and jumping with joy :) We all danced and chanted back to the "barracks" where we were staying, and all of the campers went up to the balcony on the second floor of the building and starting singing and dancing in celebration while the PC volunteers watched below. The entire camp, all of the hard work and stress and lack of sleep, was worth it for that one moment. It was pure joy, seeing those boys and girls celebrate their week of new friendships, improved football skills, and confidence in themselves. It was a beautiful moment for me, and I found myself getting emotional again.

Overall, the camp was a huge success. I feel so blessed by all of the help I got from fellow volunteers and all of the hard work that Ghanaians did to facilitate the event. I know that those kids left that camp with new friendships and more knowledge about HIV, which they can share with their friends and family, and that, to me, was the best outcome I could have asked for.

So now, after the madness of the past month, I'm headed back to Gushie to settle in for a while. I probably won't be updating this blog for a little while, so I hope you have a great New Year's and that you are blessed until we talk again!

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Only two words necessary... Fire. Festival.

I have been looking forward to Fire Festival almost since the moment I found out I was going to be stationed in the Northern Region. I heard a lot about it during training, and I did a presentation with a couple of my fellow trainees about northern festivals, so I had also done some research on the activities I would be witnessing/taking part in. Needless to say, by the time the day of the festival arrived (last Thursday), I was stoked. The morning and afternoon were fairly uneventful-I did laundry, rode my bike, did some work at the office, and made lunch. Pretty standard stuff. As the afternoon went by, things stayed pretty normal. There was definitely a buzz in the air, but no festivities had really started yet (after all, it is called the "fire festival" and fire is best viewed at night...)

 While I was hanging out in my usual spot at Yahaya/'s store, I asked some of my friends why we celebrate fire, of all things. They told me a legend about a Dagomba chief who had a son who went into the bush one day to chase after an animal. After some time, the boy did not return, and the chief began to worry. He consulted the elders and as the darkness increased, they decided that the best way to find the son was to set fire to the bush, so that the son would see the fire and find his way back home. According to the story, the chief did indeed set things on fire and it worked-the son found his way back to the village and they have come together once a year to celebrate the fire festival ever since. Now, whether or not this is true or just some story that my friends concocted so they could laugh later (it's possible ha), it still sets the stage for the amazing (and dangerous) celebration of fire.

As we all parted ways for prayers and dinner, my friends told me I better do my best to wear clothing that covered my entire body, for safety. This worried me slightly, but I still dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt (it's COLD here at night!), sneakers, and a hat just in case. I came out of my house shortly after 7pm and just sat on the veranda of my compound, which faces the road. Things were really starting to get dark and children were running from all directions to gather near the chief's palace (conveniently right next door to my compound!). Minutes later, my dear friend Sanatu and her sisters ran up to me carrying giant torches made of long dried grass and tied together with small cloth peices. Many were shaped like crosses, with a long vertical portion and a smaller horizontal crosspeice. This was slightly disconcerting at first (burning crosses? What have I gotten myself into?), but soon I realized that this structure was simply for asthetic appeal, so no worries there... Anyway, Sanatu handed me a massive torch, which was unlit because the festival had not begun yet. So there we were, gathered around with our unlit torches on the side of the road, waiting for the chief to emerge. The moment the chief stepped out of his palace, everyone went crazy. The drummers started drumming and singing, and everyone was dancing around in anticipation. This alone was a sight to see. Well, the chief chose a spot directly in front of my house to light the first flame on his torch, after which a FLOOD of people ran over with their own torches to light their torches from the fire of his, and soon nearly everyone had burning torches in their hands.

This is when the fun really started.

I was practically in a trance already, since I've always had a fascination with fire (maybe from all of those years of burning leaves in the yard with dad), but as the crowd gathered and multiplied, I was absolutely mesmorized. Imagine a group of about 700 people of all ages. We're talking young men, the elderly, even children and babies, all gathered together in a massive crowd with fire glowing like a canopy overhead. We assembled our crowd in the middle of the highway (traffic didn't stand a chance against us that night) and starting making our way down the road. The children swung their torches high above their heads. Men in their 20s were painted with ash, wearing traditional tribal jewelry and walking with bare feet. Mothers held torches in front of them while their babies, strapped to their backs in cloth, stared in amazement. A whole slew of drummers set the tone of the march with varied songs and chants, while elderly women brought up the rear with dancing and chanting. Boys as young as 12 wandered the crowd with guns and machetes, occasionally shooting into the air or scraping the ground loudly with the tips of their knives (I told you this was dangerous, but thankfully no one was hurt).

As we danced and sang our way down the road, we lit nearly everything in sight. After about 20 minutes of walking/dancing, we arrived at a massive tree and people of all ages started throwing their torches at the tree to light it on fire. I kept my distance (throwing fire? No thanks), and soon everyone had thrown their torches and picked up unburnt branches from the tree and started waving them around, as the procession continued. This actually reminded me of what it might have been like when the people waved palm branches and celebrated the arrival of Jesus on a donkey (minus Jesus and the donkey, of course). We waved our branches above our heads and swung them to the ground, back and forth, to the rhythm of the drums. Since Gushie is lacking electricity, the only light to guide us was the moon, and the silhouettes of the branches were stunning.

Soon, however, we reached a stopping point, at which time we laid our branches on the ground and picked up new torches, and soon the fire aspect of the festival was underway again. At this point, things went from awesome to absolutely incredible. With our reignited torches, the chief led the way back down the road in the opposite direction, only this time, everyone was running. I was lucky enough to be in the front of the pack, so I stopped for a split second to look back at this massive body of people with their torches lit, all running as fast as they could. As we ran, those on the outer edges of the road let their torches drag, so that the grass on either side of the road was catching on fire as we passed. I wish I could show you a picture of that moment. It was unreal. I took photos throughout the night (pictures to come very soon!), but at that particular time, I chose to keep my camera in my pocket and just soak up the surreality of the experience. I'm so glad I did.

After this triumphant ending, we were sent off to our invidual compounds with the sound of drumming and lingering songs. My friends walked me back home, and I could hardly even contain my excitement. The whole festival took about 4 hours, but it went by like a flash. Everything was so amazing, so beautiful, so dangerous. It was an experience I will never forget. Thank God I get to see it again next year.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Redefining Success.

I just arrived back to the North from Kumasi for my In-Service training. It was a week filled with sessions about writing grants, exercises related to HIV, and thinking about potential projects in our villages. I really loved reuniting with my health/watsan sector, and it was interesting to see how the conversations have changed since we all left training to go to our sites. Instead of discussing our fears and excitements about language learning, leaving our friends, and trying to figure out what we'd do once we got to our villages, our conversations since becoming volunteers have moved to the challenges and triumphs we've had so far at site, funny stories about integrating into our communites (or failing to do so), and our plans for projects. Overall, it was a great week!
This training got me thinking about a lot of things related to the duties of a volunteer and what it means to do the work that I do. I view much of my job as helping people in my community plan and implement projects to move them toward further development. So far, this has manifested in me helping my fellow volunteers with projects that encourage people to take control of their health and educate them about the relationship between behavior and overall health. I've found that I feel most effective as a volunteer when I'm teaching a lesson, attending a conference, or executing an event (makes sense). It gives me a feeling of accomplishment, and the more people who attend whatever program I'm helping to put on, the more accomplished I feel.
Last week, however, made me re-think my role here and my goals as a volunteer. I tend to be a fairly driven person, and I have often, in the past, gauged my success by the quantity of the work I have done. In college, I felt that long papers and marathon study sessions were a reflection of my dedication, and I have always lived and breathed "good grades." I think I've taken this approach toward the first few months of my service here, though I haven't necessarily made a conscious effort to do so. For me, writing proposals, educating lots of people, and completing physical projects have been the benchmarks by which I've been subconsciously (and consciously) evaluating my work and future planning. In our Pre-Service Training (my first three months in Ghana), we heard numerous staff and current PC volunteers echo the idea that being successful as a volunteer is so much more than just doing lots of work. I listened to these people, though I'm not sure I totally took control of that idea, or rather, I felt like that approach would work for some volunteers, but I didn't want to leave Ghana without having plenty of tangible projects under my belt.
Needless to say, I didn't exactly take the "lay low for the first 3 months at site" advice to the level that some of my colleagues did. I didn't start too many projects on my own, but I jumped at every opportunity to help with fellow volunteers' projects and became known among some people in my training group as over-eager and maybe even hasty. The thing that my fellow PC volunteers learned (and I am just starting to grasp) is that the whole point of not starting projects when you first come to your site is a lesson in patience and re-evaluation of what constitutes success. In the past week, as I've reflected on my time in Gushie so far, I've realized that even though I've helped with campaigns and taught lessons, what stands out in my mind so far are the moments I've had celebrating festivals, struggling through the language, and mastering the art of shopping at the market. These are successes, but in a different way than I have been evaluating success. Sitting on a bench with my friends or stirring a pot of soup represents more than just cultural lessons. These activities teach me about my community, help me to build relationships that are the cornerstone to any development work, and change my understanding of the world around me. When I leave Ghana, I don't want my legacy to be that of "the girl who built us things" or "the volunteer who did a lot of work," though that doesn't mean there isn't value in projects and education (there definitely is!). I want my community to remember me as a friend and a colleague. I want the value of my work to be on relationships rather than statistics. I want to look back and recognize that the integration process and development process were equal contributors to my success as a volunteer.
I don't want to sound preachy, but I think it's important to share these lessons with you because they are truly forming my experiences here. Maybe you've already learned these things. Maybe you've already put material success in its proper place beside relational growth. But then again, maybe you're like me, and you're just now starting to learn these principles. It's really hard to redefine success beyond tangible results, particularly so when you are an American, I believe. Yet I'm starting to realize that when you just benchmark your success according to how much "work" you've accomplished, you're missing one of the most important triumphs in life, which is how many lives you've touched. And that doesn't come from building latrines and handing out mosquito nets; that comes through relationships with your community.