Eunice's story

Hi everyone!

Just about two months left until I conclude my time here and all is going well.

One of the projects I am most proud of from my Peace Corps service is the mobile antenatal care clinic, or “pregnancy school” which myself, Osei and some of the local nurses implemented. The concept was to bring some of the antenatal care to the pregnant women in my clinic-less village, as well as educate women about various health topics that affect their pregnancy, unborn child, and family as a whole.

Over the course of seven monthly sessions, we educated 43 pregnant women and 15 mothers of newborns about topics including the importance of antenatal care, the baby’s growth in the womb, nutrition, malaria, family planning, HIV/AIDS, protecting and caring for the body during pregnancy, preventing and treating diarrheal diseases, and use of the locally grown super food moringa.

Women came on a regular basis, active and engaged, until their children were born. Some mothers even came with their newborns to learn more about nutrition, moringa and malaria!

I am incredibly proud of this program and thankful for the hard work and dedication of my counterpart, Osei, who often went house-to-house encouraging women to attend, and the nursing staff, who came in every month on a moto on treacherous roads to share their expertise.

I recently wrote a vignette about one of the success stories of the pregnancy school. Here is Eunice’s story:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a one-room house with five children and her husband, Eunice Daboa struggles to make ends meet. Money is tight even after selling the cocoa crop for the year. The debt from the funeral costs for her eldest child have made this even tighter, and her husband’s grief is still visible a full year after the accident in the river.

It us up to Eunice to keep the family together – to cook, clean, help tend to the farm, and care to their everyday needs. Eunice’s own pregnancy, in its second trimester, does not change this. Though Ghana offers free health care for pregnant women, Eunice can’t afford to spend the five cedis round trip to the clinic, so she does not go.

The second trimester of a pregnancy is crucial in all pregnancies, but especially in Ghana. Eunice should be receiving Intermittent Preventative Treatment in pregnancy (IPTp) to rid her body and the placenta of malaria parasites that kill so may pregnant women and unborn children here. She should be having her first scan (or ultrasound) to make sure the baby is developing normally.

And though she has already raised six children, there is still much for her to learn about how to best care for herself, her family, and her unborn child. She may regularly give her husband all the stew that contains the meat and vegetables necessary for her and her baby to be healthy, and she still does not sleep under a mosquito net to help prevent malaria.

After her first attendance at the pregnancy school, we visit her house and discuss the importance of her seeking care at the local clinic. She has already taken the first step by coming to our program, but with limited resources, our nurses cannot perform all the tests and provide the scope of care necessary at this stage of her pregnancy.

Understanding that her poverty is more extreme than most in this “cash crop” village, I give her the money necessary for her transportation and maternal health book. The next day I see Eunice in a car on the way back from the clinic – the nurses have provided her with additional care and a clean bill of health. Despite an exhausting list of responsibilities, Eunice looks radiant.

Without the intervention of the antenatal care clinic, or pregnancy school, we may not have been able to detect and help women like Eunice. She displayed willingness to learn and better the health of her family – hanging the bed nets she received during the distribution and requesting moringa seeds to plant so she may fortify her family’s food.

In January 2014, Eunice and her family welcomed a health baby girl. Mother and baby are both doing well.

 Osei provides Eunice with her bed net at the distribution

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed Eunice's story of unwavering perseverance when faced with hardship. I am inspired and humbled by this woman.

A big thank you to Bouvier Rous Eulen, who sent me all of the information she received from the doctors during her pregnancy. It was very helpful in creating the educational materials for the classes!

I will be back stateside in late May after a trip with some pretty great people. Looking forward to seeing you all!

Much love,

Alisa

My Ghanafoo

Realizing that I have less than four months left of my Peace Corps service does a lot to me. First, it puts a smile on my face – I will see my family and friends so soon! I have an awesome post service trip ahead and am looking forward to continuing some of my work in the future, but (hopefully) with pay.

Then I think about all the people that helped make Ghana my home and I can’t help but already miss them. I’ve included both of these people in my blogs before, and talk about them constantly, so here’s a snap shot of two of my favorite humans in all of Ghana. Maybe when I come home and talk about them, you’ll feel like you know them too?

Gifty

Gifty has been my rock since coming to my community. She is intelligent, kind, independent, beautiful, and honest, and I am lucky to know her.

Our friendship began when she heard me squeal at cockroaches in my latrine. I could tell she was trying to understand, but couldn’t help but tease me from the beginning, “Here is a millipede,” she said pointing to one of the slow and omnipresent creatures, “Are you afraid of these also?”

She had me there.

Our friendship evolved into daily dinners at her shop, talking about life, and learning about each other. It also helped that she has one of the most adorable children in the village, Justice, with her incredibly kind husband Jackson.

I didn’t know that I would ever be able to connect with someone here as much as I have with Gifty. She is among the few Ghanaians who got to know me as a person, behind the novelty of my skin color and national identity. She knows when I am upset, what to say, and comes up with the most perfect explanations about it all. We laugh until tears come, and listen until the other is done talking. I love her as my sister and one of my very best friends. I would never have made it without her.

Or if I did, there would be one less beautiful smile and the palm nut soup would have been a lot less great.

 

Gifty and I in on Christmas morning at her mother's village

 Beautiful Gifty and Justice

Osei

Osei has been my Ghanaian father, friend, and loyal work partner since I arrived bright-eyed and optimistic in the place I would call home for the next two years.

He truly cares about our community and wants to make it a better place. He has supported me through it all, helping me turn my ideas into reality and making my service successful. He knows when to temper my, well temper, provide advice when I’ve gotten too eager, and support me once I’ve made a decision.

I once managed to leave my bedroom door unlocked during a weekend away. Osei called to advise (and lightly scold) me, then proceeded to sleep in my hallway to protect my belongings for two nights until I returned. What a sweet man. (He refused to sleep in my bed, even though I begged him.)

He is also one funny guy and has earned the nickname “Fastest Ghanaian in the West” for his warp speed stroll that leaves me, though six inches taller, in a jog to keep up. Here are some examples of my fast and furious(ly )funny father’s epic comedy:

Scene 1: Osei and younger man playing “African checkers” outside of a spot (or bar) with a group of friends while I sit next to the circle.

Osei slams down a piece (as is requisite for all checkers here) and says, “Come and collect your pad.” He then leans over to me and says, “Because he is on his menses.”

Proof positive that men worldwide call other men “women” as an insult during competition. This joke may not appeal to my female readers, I suppose. I laughed though.

Scene 2: Conducting house-to-house education about the importance of sleeping under a bed net. He is translating my English to Sefwi and I can’t figure out why everyone is laughing.

A younger woman who speaks some English informs me he has just said the following, “If you feel it is too hot to sleep under the net, you should be sure to remove your clothing (finger wag) but be careful not to bump buttocks in the night.”

I definitely didn’t say that.

Oh, Osei. What would I do without you? Certainly not our secret handshake (shake, snap, fist bump, high five). 

 

Osei and I during the bed net distribution

Osei gives his "thumbs up" for the borehole drillers

Here's to the next few months with my favorite Ghanaians, and to many, many more with my American family and friends. I'm so incredibly blessed.

Chocolate, chocolate everywhere, and not a drop to eat

As I sit and drink my Swiss Miss Instant cocoa to satisfy one of the chocolate cravings I usually ignore here, I can’t help but laugh at the irony. Here I am, in a West African village and surrounded by cocoa trees, and the best I can do is instant chocolate sent from America?

It’s not that Ghana doesn’t have processed chocolate. They do. It’s just not very good and is difficult to find. Ask a villager about chocolate and they invariably say “Milo,” which is a vitamin-fortified hot chocolate drink here. Most have never eaten a chocolate bar, or if they have, it flakes in their mouths with the ever-satisfying texture of chalk.

But I digress. I mean to tell you about my time as a cocoa farmer. We are in late cocoa season, and the 50 kilo bags of beans are still regularly being dried all around the village. Cocoa farming is hard work. Such hard work, in fact, that I will never take chocolate for granted.

The process of farming cocoa is really a year-round effort. There’s spraying with fertilizer, pruning the trees, weeding the newest mangled additions to the farm, planting of root trees and tubers to stabilize the trees, and general inspections to make sure “black pod disease” has not infected the crop.

The pods, which house the budding cocoa beans, grow along the whole of the tree. Once the pod is yellow and about two pounds, it is ready to be plucked. After all the pods are plucked, it must be gathered from around the farm (usually on the day after picking) and brought to one pile. 

 

Cocoa pods grow along the tree

I had the pleasure of helping Gifty and Jackson “carry” cocoa and was exhausted after a measly five hours of work. Bend, toss, bend, carry, drop, repeat. Somewhere in there, Gifty demanded that I no longer carry the cocoa to its destination, but instead I “carry” her, which is an expression used to mean to help someone lift something heavy on their heads so they may carry it.

Gifty and Justice walk through the cocoa farm

Once gathered to a central location, the pods are cracked with a machete and pulled of its beans. Oddly, the sticky substance inside the pods that surrounds the beans tastes exactly like sour apple Now and Laters.

After enjoying nature’s candy for a few minutes, all the beans are placed in a pile with cocoyam or banana leaves placed on top while it ferments for a couple of days. Once fermented, the cocoa must be dried in the sun for a few days and is then sold for a little more than 100 USD per 50 kilo bag.

From there, it goes to local emporiums and is later shipped off to the capital city of Accra and sold to various companies, later to become delicious chocolate.

So basically, whoever figured out that chocolate can be made from these beans is one of the best humans to walk this Earth.

To celebrate this blog post, I’ll eat some American chocolate, sent by my lovely parents. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, everyone!

Black is beautiful

As a white volunteer in rural Ghana, I attract a lot of attention. Usually it’s just marvel at my fair complexion and different hair. On some occasions, however, it’s something else.

“Nana Yaa, give me your hair.”

“I like your skin. I want mine to be light like you.”

“Your nose is small. It is good.”

To be honest, I find it really disheartening. Here are people in some of the poorest and most remote areas of the world, yet many still adhere to the Westernized ideal of beauty: to be light is beautiful and to be dark is less than.

I simply don’t see it that way. I have seen more natural beauty in Ghana than I have seen anywhere in the world. The beauty-obsessed women Los Angeles have nothing on the smooth, flawless skin, and confident posture that I see here every day.

Even more disheartening is the surge of skin bleaching sweeping Africa. In Nigeria, 77% of women use these products on a regular basis, and 59% in Togo, 35% in South Africa, and 25% in Mali. Some of the biggest celebrities throughout the continent are engaging in the practice, thereby increasing its desirability to citizens across Africa.

The Velasco material (clothing) billboards that line the streets of Accra and Kumasi generally feature women with lighter black complexions and more “anglo” features: small, pointy noses and oval-shaped faces.

Considering all this, I decided to lead a session at our recent Western Regional Girls Leading Our World (GLOW) camp reminding young women that to be black is beautiful.

When designing the program, I decided to confer with Sarah Watson, a black American Peace Corps volunteer here in Ghana. She mentioned that she has been taking portraits of young women around her community and is working with the district assembly’s office to post some of them on a billboard at the entrance of town. Young women in rural Ghana are often not used to seeing photos of themselves displayed and tend to shy away from exhibiting outward confidence about their appearance. Overall, I thought it was a compelling way to broach the subject of loving their ebony skin.

Her approach sparked an idea for my project as well – what if the girls could see themselves on a screen, directly related to a conversation about black being beautiful? The morning of my presentation, I went around the camp and took photos of each of the girls, never addressing why or when they would see them again. Most of them were happy to pose, despite their non-smiling appearances. (The typical Ghanaian does not smile for pictures then flashes their gorgeous pearly whites as soon as the camera snaps.)

When the session began, I asked the girls to tell me what they think is beautiful. Girls raised their hands and gave an array of answers that all fed into them already knowing that black women are beautiful.

“Madam, the buttocks is beautiful.”

“Hips are very nice.”

“When a person is calm, they are beautiful.”

I was impressed with their responses. Not a single girl mentioned light skin or small noses. Perhaps these girls didn’t need my help after all.

I decided to introduce the subject any way, particularly because there was one girl who had likely already engaged in mild skin bleaching (the products available on a wide scale are more harsh and often leave red marks on the cheeks and the edges of the face. Don't worry -- I approached it lightly to avoid embarrassing her). I asked the girls if they ever hear people say that lighter black skin is preferable to darker skin. They had.

Felicity Yaa Pomah (yes, Yaa Pomah is also my name) is a teacher, all around bright and empowered woman and excellent mentor for the girls. She told the story of how a man in her town told her she is too dark and should be lightening her skin in order to appear more beautiful. She responded that she will never bleach her skin, because she is beautiful as she is.

This sparked a lively conversation about how they have similar pressures, but do not want to submit. In some sectors of the culture, it is also an expression of wealth (and thereby success) to bleach one’s skin, thereby adding to the social adoption of the practice.

I also explained the dangers of skin cancer, which were non-existent prior to skin bleaching. They have been given the gift of dark skin to withstand the high sun. It should be celebrated, not scorned or marred.

I then commenced the slideshow of their portraits taken earlier in the day, which set off a roar of giggles. Like the girls in Sarah’s town, most had never seen their photo on a large scale, nor do I think many of them had associated themselves with being beautiful.

When asked whether they ever looked in the mirror and only saw bad things, most of the girls (and volunteers) raised their hands. This sparked a discussion about the importance of confidence and self-acceptance, as well as the love of our most important type of beauty – the one that comes from within.

I may not be the expert at being black, but I understand what it’s like to feel pressure to fit into a typecast of what is beautiful.

The typecast is outdated. It’s ethnocentric. It’s just plain dumb.

I hope this generation of young African women feel empowered to say so. I hope the girls in our GLOW Camp are part of this group.

Here are some of my favorite portraits from the slideshow.

These Girls Have It

Hello everyone!

Some fellow volunteers and I will be hosting a Girls Leading Our World (GLOW) Camp here in Ghana in late August. We are about 1/3 of the way to our fundraising goal to put on this awesome camp and we need your help!

Our GLOW camp will help young women from our communities by teaching them about leadership and opportunities available for women in Ghana, including having a panel of successful women speak to the girls about how they overcame adversity. It will be a full five-day schedule, including talks about health, creativity, decision-making, self confidence (and more!) that we hope will inspire and empower these young women to achieve their dreams.

Things are a bit different here in Ghana, where young girls wake up at 5 a.m. to sweep the compound, fetch heavy loads of water, and prepare food before going to school. Once home, they do laundry, dishes, fetch more water, help prepare the meals, then do their homework. The teachers in my community were able to choose three young women who manage to do all this AND do well in school based on academic performance and letters they wrote describing why they want to attend the camp. 

Here’s a brief introduction to the girls selected.

Sandra Nkuah is among the brightest students in her school and a favorite among teachers and students. She has managed to avert peer pressure to drink and have sex because she wants to avoid compromising her future. Her ultimate goal is to become a doctor so she can help others. She likes playing football (soccer) and reading.

 Sandra, displaying her individual twist on the school uniform, in line for the close of school

Paulina Mensah is a smart and vivacious young woman who lives with a family that is not related to her, thereby doing work in exchange for food and boarding. She does well in school, keeps a tidy home, and helps out with her new baby “brother” while her family goes to farm. She would like to be a police woman in the future. She likes dancing and always lights a room up with her smile.

Paulina, refusing to show her teeth while smiling 

Sarah Gyapong is another promising young woman who does well in school and dreams of becoming a nurse one day. She says that when she goes to the market town and sees the nurses in their uniform, she feels happy and knows that’s what she wants to do. She is a sweet and mild-mannered young woman who is well liked in the community. 

Picture coming soon!

Please help Sandra, Paulina and Sarah go to this camp and donate today by clicking on the link below and selecting the amount you would like to give. Every little bit helps! Thanks in advance.

https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=13-641-032

Much love,

Alisa

The Teacher I Like Best

Last week, I asked Mary, my neighbor and my enthusiastic English student, to write an essay about school and learning. This is what she wrote...


The Teacher I Like Best

Mrs. Nana Yaa Pomah is the name of my best teacher. She is twenty years old. She comes from U.S.A. but stays at Kwafukaa.

She is dark complexion and about four feet three inches tall. She have a little tribal mark on her left chin, a broad face and a pointed nose.

She likes laughing.

Mrs. Nana Yaa Pomah is a good teacher. At times she likes playing and sometimes she likes learning.

She is beautiful woman.

The subject she likes best is English. When she teach me I am understand.

Mary, in the middle 

So, as you can see, I have changed quite a bit since you all saw me last. Hope you all recognize me when you see me in the next couple weeks!

It Takes a Village

Justice balances his little legs off the edge of my lap and giggles, seemingly unwitting of what happened last week -- that his precious life was compromised.

I arrived home one afternoon to find my best friend in my village, Gifty, closing up her shop and preparing to go to the hospital. She told me that her two and half-year-old son, Justice, was brought there by her husband Jackson and she was going to join them.

A little panicked, I asked what his symptoms were -- fever, headache, vomiting, diarrhea, and she described how his eyes were rolling back into his head, “like this” as she demonstrated. We hurried to find a car, with no luck. Taxis only leave my village intermittently and none were around. After an anxious hour, a man with a motorcycle returned from farm and took Gifty to see her baby.

Everyone here knows Justice is my favorite little guy. I talk about him constantly and adore just about everything he says or does. In fact, I would venture to say that Justice is a lot of people’s favorite. Men returning from farm brush off their exhaustion, put down their machetes, and come to pat his slightly-too-big-for-his-body head, chanting his nickname, “Justo!”  Usually, he’s playing car with a variety of circular objects, running back and forth with his signature boundless energy.

He’s the kind of kid who’s going places. His parents have done everything right, including saving money for future schooling and teaching him early. This little guy can already repeat the English alphabet and count to twenty. Who else did that at two?

Justice and Jackson practice shadow boxing

With the family still at the hospital, I spent the night in worry, and can only imagine how Gifty and Jackson felt.

In the end Justice was fine, but he contracted malaria. Malaria is a disease which kills nearly 650,000 people in Africa every year, most of them children under five. With limited immunities to the disease, young children are more likely to develop cerebral malaria, which can lead to severe developmental issues and even death.

But there are the “strong men” in my community who believe they have little to worry about. While Gifty and her family sleep under a bed net every night to protect against malaria, many people brush off its importance, saying it is too hot and they aren’t worried about malaria. After all, they’ve had it several times before, and they’ve survived.

But this is not always the case for the children. Many Ghanaians do not understand that if they are infected, a mosquito can bite them, and re-infect someone else, including someone vulnerable to malaria’s harsher effects. If every person sleeps under a bed net every night, all year round, we can eventually eradicate this terrible disease.

While my counterpart, Osei Nkuah, and I work to educate our community and promote bed net usage for all people, we must also rely on our fellow community members to help spread the word.

A West African proverb says that it takes a village to raise a child, and in the case of surviving malaria, it is most certainly true.

I have the pleasure of working with Stomp Out Malaria, a forward-thinking and inspired malaria eradication initiave in Peace Corps. For the past couple of years, Stomp has helped train, coordinate and promote volunteer-led malaria prevention and control programs throughout the Peace Corps Africa posts.

For more information about the work volunteers are doing to Stomp Out Malaria, please visit the web site at stompoutmalaria.org.