In the Field Pt. #

Ok, I posted some photos because everyone's all like, 'oh Joey, I wanna see some photos!" And as much effort as it took, as much time as I wasted in the office trying over and over to upload them, I am kinda disappointed in everyone's lack of gratitude (yeah, "0 Comments"). Therefore, anyone who actually reads this for entertainment/procrastination, is being punished for your apathy with a fairly boring post. After this, though, it should be much more interesting.

Love you!
Joey

Our first visit in Nadowli was to a community that was having their borehole rehabilitated. The previous one, built by another NGO, had quit working and their nearby well had also run dry. They were one of 5 communities whose boreholes would be reconstructed through this project. When we arrived, a local construction crew that had been hired to create the concrete foundation was just getting started. While they worked diligently under the beating sun, the community met with Ishaque and one of the DWST members under the shade of a large mango tree. They seemed happy about the new borehole, but I wondered how optimistic they really were. When I get a chance to conduct some of my own interviews, I hope that these types of questions will be answered.
The next community, Sankana, was fairly substantial compared to the other communities we had been to, which were pretty much 5-10 families out in the middle of nowhere. Their pump was not functioning and was due to be rehabilitated soon as well. We paid a visit to the school where they had been given about 8 mango seedlings and several dozen acacia seedlings. The headmaster welcomed us, and Ishaque asked to see the progress on the trees. A couple of the mango seedlings looked like they might make it, but most looked like the stick fences were inadequate protection from animals, bugs were getting at the leaves, or were dry from lack of water. Then we saw the acacia, about 100 feet from a developing acacia forest. Almost everyone looked like a dry twig in the ground. Ishaque scolded the headmaster for not bothering to water them, especially with a large body of water close enough to see. He said he had watered them once, but still looked very embarrassed. Irregular rains (flooding in the rainy season, draught in the dry season) are partially due to the heavy logging and lack of vegetation in the region. This is a big problem, though. I think this tree-planting idea is a good step in the right direction, but without some sort of immediate return, the community will find little incentive to take the long hike down to the river to water dozens of seedlings.
The next project seemed like a very interesting one. It was down by the afore-mentioned body of water, a flooded river behind a dam, and worked with the local fishermen to help them use the large amount of water to grow crops. When we first arrived, the plot of land next to the river seemed abandoned. One man, who I am still not sure if he was a fisherman or not, was hanging out around several dozen dry teak seedlings. At this point Ishaque was fuming. He kept asking the man why they had not been watered, especially with plenty of water a mere 20 feet away. I felt bad for the guy, but it was true. It seemed difficult to understand why the group of fishermen would start a crop of teak trees, funded by the NGO, and just not water them. We moved on to the other side of the river, which looked in much better condition. They were growing onions, tomatoes and other crops on this side. A couple of men were tending to them. I asked the man from the DWST if the fact that growing onions and tomatoes produced an immediate reward had led them to only focus on side of the river. Teak can be very useful and valuable lumber, but at this point they were just twigs, while the onions were already onions. He thought it sounded logical, but it also did not hurt that they had constructed some concrete aqueducts to irrigate the fields, which had not been done with the teak. We came across another obstacle of course. The section of aqueduct that crossed a creek was destroyed during the floods this past year, leading to about half of this side’s crops to be left thirsty. There were so many good ideas with marginal results. As frustrating as it was, I was glad that I was beginning to learn how projects worked and didn’t work, and how to ask questions.
The last community we visited was fairly standard. They had drilled a borehole that led to no water, and were waiting for a new drilling. Interviews were conducted with the community and the elderly men were excited about my facial hair, saying that we were the same, as they had prominent white beards.
That night Osei managed to get the air conditioning in the Land Cruiser to work, as it had not been functioning since the day we departed. I had not really minded, as this was still far and away the most luxurious transportation I had ever had outside the U.S. The next day, though, the reward came not so much through cooler air, but the luxury of having windows rolled up. At the end of the day I was not completely caked in red dirt. Just lightly coated.
Our first visit was to another community that was getting their borehole rehabilitated. The construction crew I had seen the day before was already at work, dismantling the old slab of concrete, preparing to start from scratch.
We were unable to meet with the second community on the list, as they were having a funeral that day, so we went on to the third community, which was scheduled to get their first pump installed today. Unfortunately, the construction crew had gone to the wrong site. They did not seem disappointed or even surprised. Either they did not have much faith in the reliability of NGO’s or after countless generations walking long distances to unclean water sources, one more day was not too long to wait. Either way, the neighboring communities had working boreholes, and when they asked if they could use them because their water source had run dry, they were regularly refused.
The final community visited on the trip was by far the most remote. It took a solid hour to get there from the previous village. It was located on a game reserve and they had been told recently that they were no longer allowed to hunt. This demand seemed fairly ridiculous, as it seemed impossible to enforce this far away from any legitimate road. The people in the village seemed to think so too, as most of the boys and young men had slingshots either in their hands or in some pocket. They all laughed when they were asked if they hunt. “Well, they came and told us not to anymore! Haha!” an elderly man replied with a grin. I couldn’t blame them. If anything, if I was told that I lived on the only land in the area that still had certain species, I would feel that I had failed as a hunter. The people in this village were extra jovial, and especially curious. I felt very relaxed and cheerful in their presence. When we left, they were so grateful for our visit (which really just consisted of a few interviews, viewing their future borehole site, and a few casual photos) they gave us six huge yams as we left. I felt that accepting gifts like this from the communities we were working with might complicate things ethically, but I knew this was a better issue to handle later. This might have been my journalism ethics kicking in, but I feel that the same logic could work with development work. If a particular community regularly rewards the representatives from the NGO working with them, it could taint the relationship, and let the communities in the most need get looked over. Later, however, I asked an independent about this etiquette and was informed that turning down such a gift would have been extremely rude.
That night, I realized I had been in Ghana an entire month. Unlike previous trips of this length, the time had flown by, and I could not believe that I would have to leave in only two more months. I was also glad. I have already seen so much of this country. In the past week I have taken in almost as much of northern Ghana as I have of northern Idaho. I have learned a lot, but as always, the more I know, the more I realize I know nothing. The troubles here in Ghana, and even more so in the rest of Africa, are a complicated riddle, of which the answer seems far from understood. If anything, I am coming to terms with the fact that African problems require African solutions, and figuring out my place in that is proving difficult.