An invitation

Chance was written all over my first invitation in Accra.

After two bewildered days of learning the do´s and dont´s of the city, I was no wiser than the day i came. I was weary of the food and drink, remembering the horrorstories of parasites and snails that entered through eating or drinking. Little things like purifying water and making sure your moscitonet was tucked in everywhere, became the main occupations of my day - mainly as an excuse not to mingle too much. The embarassment of not being able to really distinguish people from eachother let alone remember their names, led me to a somewhat voluntary isolation - allthough it is impossible to be isolated in Ghana. There is allways someone who pays attention to your situation - a fact that came to save my life in the end.

On my third day in Accra, a busload of people poured in at the VOLU office. Well minibusload anyway. Fresh back from working in the bushvillages and in high spirits, they had exactly the kind of joy and excitement that infected everybody and quickly brought the mood to the roof. They were lusting to hear news from europe and I was equally desperate to hear of the work awaiting me. A couple of germans seemed especially professional in the art of getting around and offered me my first invitation.

They were on their way to the Cape Coast festival. It was a bit of a journey but apparently it was worth it. people from all over would come to celebrate and party. There was to be a procession of the chiefs from the different regions of Ghana and their wives and families. They only had to ask me once. What an adventure!!!

My days in isolation were over - I had a plan and company. It was such a thrill.

A moody continent

Africa...

Being there feels like walking on a volcano or a glazier. This continent is a rumbling giant waiting to roar - or cry.

The rains in Africa are wonderous. There will be no clouds - no warning. In a flash the sky cracks open and water pours. No drizzle, no moderate rain. Only solid floods from the sky.
We used to have about one a day in the bush. Rain is a signal for all work to stop and everybody to shower. Unbelievable as it sounds, it is true. The rains are practical in that way. So heavy you can shower.

It does not always rain. The dry scorching heat can hit you just as quickly. It is relentless and fierce. Ghana is overall a humid country, but on occasion the winds bring dry heat from the Sahara. When it strikes it is so hot and dry, that it is impossible to quench your thirst. Even right after drinking, your throat feels rough and sore. Your lips are chapped and your skin burned.

There is so much brutality in nature in Africa. And such a moodiness in her disposition. Untill you get to know the place, you will be walking on eggs waiting for the next roar. As you learn to understand the diversity and spontaneity, you begin to relax and eventually love the abrupt changes. Then it molds into your soul and you wonder if you are forever syncronized with the moods of Africa.

VOLU

I should probably have explained why I was in Ghana. Eventhough it is secondary to my experience and of less importance. As it was I came to join VOLU - a local organisation of volunteers from both Ghana and Europe. I suppose it would be for anybody else as well, but I only ever met europeans there. The purpose of VOLU is simple. To help locally with the projects they really need - not what some academic decided at his or her desk. They were very active at the time and had agreements with several different foreign aid organisations including MS in Denmark. As they must still do considering their noble cause. In the organisation of VOLU it was highly important to foster the spirit of volunteering and the breakdown of barriers of class, religion and gender.
I chose to fly straight to Ghana and join VOLU upon arrival. This was partly because I was very idealistic and wanted my joining fee to actually go to the right people. And partly, off course, because I allready knew people from VOLU - both ghanaians and europeans.
I arrived on my own, was thankfully met by Big, and therefore my adventure started without a prearranged group or plan.

I was on a blank page.

Accra!

"This is Accra" Big says as we get closer to the more densely populated capital of Ghana. The sight is amazing. The major roads are paved and quite good. But as soon as you venture off to some direction, the city transforms itself into a dusty bush village with dirt roads and an intense buzz of people everywhere. Some are doing business. Selling og buying. Chickens are sold alive, but with a quick twist you are sure that they don´t run off after purchase.
There are no shops. Just vendors with baskets og boxes full of completely unfamilar items. I spot huge bananas in one and comment to Big that finally I know something. But alas, they are not bananas but plantane and with a very sinister and dramatic voice, he cautions me never to eat one raw. He is certain that they are poisonous and I promise never to do so. Which wasn´t a difficult promise to make.

At an intersection a women comes over and offers green oranges. Big buys 3 and the women quickly cuts of the outer peel in a spiral. He shows me how to sqeeze the orange over my mouth and drink the juice. It is heaven. I was thirsty and dusty and this did the trick.

Off to the side are beggars. Crippled people of different misfortunes. Big cautions again: "You must not give them money. If they don´t get any, they will return to their families. But if you give to them, they will learn that you benefit from degrading yourself. This is not honorable."
What wisdom in those words. I am speechless mostly because he does not seem stern, but says it with care and empathy in his voice.

It was my first lesson in the humanity of Ghana.

Arriving

It has been a long journey. Several connecting flights. Bit of stress. I really do not like flying. But now the end of the journey is here. The plane sets down on the runway and everything looks unfamiliar, yet strangely more inhabited than I imagined. I thought it was Africa - this is a busy international airport in Accra.

But as we leave the plane things a different after all. The moment the door to the aircraft opens a blazing heat hits me like a wall. It is quite humid too and soon I am gasping for air. I am also gasping out of awe.

Everybody´s pitch black. I have off course seen people of many different colours before. But the ghanaians are SO black. I know i have to look for Big. He is the older brother of Billy - a ghanaian i know from Denmark. But how am I going to recognize him here. They all look the same. And I am ready to turn around and board the plane again. How will I ever function here when I cant tell people apart. ust as panic sets in, Big grabs my arm. He off course had no problem finding me. Pale as a maggot and taller than most people I stand out like the Eiffel Tower.
I almost start crying. He is incredably kind and insist on staying with me untill I am in safe hands at the VOLU headquarters in central Accra. He makes sure I change one of my travellers cheques, so I am not stuck without money. He is SO kind and actually easy to recognize after all. He is truly owning up to his nickname. He is BIG. And he is bighearted. He makes arriving in Ghana a good thing.

I have arrived!

The rythm......

It seems that everything in Africa has rythm. The steady pulse of the incessant chatterof the women and children. The pounding of kasawa. The chopping of wood for fire.

It is a hum that seems to awaken in me once in a while. They sing a lot. While working, while cooking even when mourning the africans sing.To me it is the pulse of life. When I feel it I want to dance. I want to sing too. Sometimes I even want to cry.

Africa in my blood

It is never far away. The incessant pounding of Africa in my veins. The calling of my name. In Ghana I am Enije.

I can hear the women humming, chanting under their breath while they are working in the bush. We are making a clearing for the new clinic. The mood is elated and we are all hopefull. The work has started on our project, the long awaited building of the clinic. We are two europeans and a few volunteers from Accra. Allready it is obvious that we are given a special status, not because we are europeans or white, but because we have come from so far away to join in their work. One woman ponders over how we can travel so far. Who looks after our children? In Ghana I would allready have been the mother of many children at my age. I smile. My mama, I say, not wanting to upset the woman. She understands and nods in approval. It makes sense.

There a bit of an upheavel at the other side of the clearing. The men clearing the ruffage there is calling me over to see. They have killed an enormous scorpion. It is black with a velvety green shine. Beautiful indeed. But the villagers are wary, they cerimoniously push the dead invertebrae to the side of the road whilst telling dramatic stories of previous encounters that ended deadly. Part of me is awed by the destructive bush, another is sceptic as to the lethality of the wildlife. They are big admittedly, but still - i wonder if it cannot be that the fear is bigger than the actual risk.

Nevertheless the villagers love the drama and the intensity and i love them for it.