In The Field Pt. @

Our second day in the Lawra District consisted of visiting the two communities of blind farmers. The first one was about 30 minutes outside of the main town. When we arrived I saw a blind man retrieving water from a small dug-out, and carry it back to the 100’x100’ fenced farming area. The farming community was made up of all the blind, deaf, and disabled people in the surrounding villages. They were also assisted by a few people without disabilities.
Their borehole, located at the center of the garden, was not producing water. Some said that the dry season had caused the water table to lower. However, it had worked a year ago, during the driest part of the year, during Ishaque’s last visit, and there had been extra-heavy rains since then. This lead me to be pretty sure that it was some sort of mechanical failure with the pump. Ishaque suggested that some of the pipes deep inside had collapsed. Either way, their backup dugout did not look like it would be producing water for the crops for much longer.
The people working in the garden seemed excited by our presence, which always makes my job easier. A few days earlier, in Tamale, a fellow foreign NGO volunteer seemed skeptical that the rural Ghanaians would be the least bit interested in having some guy with a big camera coming in to take photos of them working. I tried to be optimistic, offering that they would understand that I was there to tell their story, because people really are interested in their struggle. Whether that was true or not, the people in all the villages seemed happy to have their picture taken, although quite bashful at times.
After observing for a while, the team gathered the community of about 20 farmers under the mango tree for a group interview. They expressed a need for a new borehole (this one had been built several years ago by a different NGO) and money for more water cans and seeds. Around the time that the discussion was wrapping up, one of the women approached us with a dirty yellow 5-gallon jug with foam creeping out of the opening. She poured a brownish liquid into a large, dried and hollowed gourd bowl (a kalabasha), handing it to one of the men that had helped translate. Then she poured a bowl for me. It was “pito”, the locally made millet brew. I knew that it was rude to refuse it, unless you strictly do not drink alcohol, like Ishaque a Muslim, and Osei, a very devout Christian. I watched as the guy next to me downed his in one large gulp (and this was not a small pour), and I hoped it was not too strong as I planned on working effectively for the rest of the day. I poured out a splash into the dirt, a tradition to pay respect to the dead, which amused everyone. When I giggled at their giggling, we all erupted in laughter. Everyone delighted in me finishing the pito (in several drinks though) with a smile on my face. It was tasty, sweet, and not too strong, allowing me to complete my work without stumbling. After this, the community broke out into a loud song in their local language, everyone clapping their hands, some of the elderly women getting up to dance, others breaking out into a shrill cry of “ayayayayayayay!” We thanked them for their time and we were sent away with another song, this time a charming tune consisting of a makeshift English word, “Byah, byah!” Most of them followed us halfway back to the car waving. It was exciting, but I was still discouraged by their lack of a quality borehole. In fact, I noticed that this was the third community in a row we had visited without improved water facilities.
The next blind and disabled community was much larger and actually had a well-hydrated well in the middle of their crops, though they seemed to have a problem with their fences, as cows getting inside seemed to be a constant problem. At one point, kids trying to chase one out caused the cow to stumble over the fence and nearly destroy that portion, making the crops even more susceptible to bovine invasions. It seemed that this would be a common issue with development work. As soon as one problem seems to be solved, more, unforeseen problems would come to take their place.
I met the village shaman, a blind man who did most of the talking during the discussion. He seemed to hold the highest social status among them, though he still wore a shredded orange t-shirt that exposed most of his aged torso. He said that even though he could not see it, he was glad I had taken his picture.
We tried visiting another village, but when we arrived, it was mostly empty. We were informed that there was a funeral, and nobody was available for interviews. We drove further through the labyrinth of dirt roads and paths that pass as roads to two more villages that were unavailable due to funerals. We had had the same problem the day before in another village. We were unable to visit the total of 6 communities as planned, making the trip less efficient as I saw it.
What was the point of the Global Water Initiative and the Water and Sanitation team? To improve the quality of water resources so that people do not fall victim to waterborne diseases and to improve food security so that starvation was not a problem. However, we could not even evaluate the conditions of communities participating in the projects because people were dying all around us!
Ishaque seemed frustrated as well, pointing out that this excursion into the field could have been planned much better. We were finished in the Lawra District and headed back to Wa, which we used as a home base to visit project sites in the Nadowli District.