More Impressions

Ghanaians have their own version of English where some words or expressions can be quite unusual for an American ear. 

Here are just a few:

·         Small-small – a little bit

·         I go come – I’ll be back (shortly or never)

·         Bread and egg – egg sandwich

·         Small boy/girl – young person

·         Waist exercises – sex

·         Please, are you having…? – Do you have…?

·         Dash – add a little extra/bribe

·         Cold store – a store with a freezer where meat/fish is sold

·         Spot – bar

·         I’m running – I have diarrhea (now, if you want to say that you like jogging, you say: I’m trotting/I’m training)

·         You’re trying – you’re making an effort (my Ghanaian mom says it every time I tell her something in Twi).

·         Charlie Watsies – flip-flops (aka bathroom slippers)

Everyone is wearing very colorful and well-tailored clothing. Our home-stay families are making dresses and shirts for us: tailors’ services are very cheap. I already have a very nice church-going orange dress with puffy sleeves and a bow in the back. It’s smashing!

Even in Accra, there are goats and chickens crossing busy streets.

You can buy water and ice-cream in plastic satchels.

Local currency here is a CD (see-dee). 1 US $ is about 3 CDs. 1 CD is 100 pesuas. As trainees, we get a 7 CD daily allowance. Since we get fed by our home stay families, it is plenty to get a beer or top up our cell phone plans. 

Here are some prices in Accra:

Coffee (in a nice Western-style café) – 8cd (a very small cup….)

Local Beer (1 ltre bottle) – 4cd

4 bananas – 1 cd

Nice ice-cream (2 scoops) – 10cd (!!)

Local ice-cream in a satchel (Fan-Ice) –  80p

Small bag of fried plantains (delish!) – 1cd 

The Unexpected Post

So, little less than one month passed since I arrived, and I’ve already been to….a local hospital. No worries – I’m all right! But apparently you cannot get away from your medical history, even in Africa…

It all started with infected bug bites and a memory of my five-year old self suffering from a blister on a left foot. We were on vacation, and my parents were a bit worried. When a doctor examined me, he found a weird lymph node abscess thing-y on my RIGHT leg. Anyway, being operated on in a scary-looking room full of strange contraptions, being given the smelly Vishenvskiy cream for a wound dressing, and being forced to stay in a hospital for several weeks (!)made me a bit weary of hospitals and doctors. And now almost the same freaking thing was happening in Africa! And the fact that I’m much older than five doesn't help the matter.

When I saw the same weird lymph-y thing (why? what? how?) in the gloom of my mosquito-netted room, I immediately told our PC doctors who were training us on STDs (another lovely topic that we are having a blast with). They took me to our main office in Accra to monitor me and send a request to Washington so they would know how to proceed with this ailment of mine. Dr. Sasha (who is Ukrainian, by the way) took me under his wing and explained the strenuous process of a PC medical procedure, which requires a confirmation from a main or regional PC medical center on the next steps. Because it was almost a weekend, we did not get any response for 2 days. It was not too bad, as I enjoyed my stay in Accra’s Osu expat neighborhood, where I slept in an air-conditioned room, bought lovely batik fabric and even sampled some cheese (a super-expensive treat!). Also, having free wi-fi sweetened the deal, and I could catch up on my correspondence (and post a couple of blog entries, yay).

The real fun started on Monday... Dr. Sasha took me to a local clinic where Dr. Wu (a Ghanaian with Chinese roots) examined me and promptly told us that she would like to perform a surgery right away. What?? I was honestly in shock. Then I was sent upstairs into an operating theatre (yikes!), where I was put into a contraption that only very pregnant women use when they are about to give birth. The army of nurses who kept calling me “Madame” poked and prodded until my leg became numb (I refused to be given a general anesthesia). Needless to say, the entire procedure was a bit traumatic: I felt like my own five-year-old self in a unfamiliar room full of scary machines and unfamiliar people in surgical masks, realizing that that my mom was not with me L. Even though the operation was over in about five minutes, I spent ten more minutes bawling in the bathroom to get rid of the shock and unpleasant memories. All is cool now, but some things can haunt you even decades after they are over…

To cheer me up, Dr. Sasha told me that it was a good thing I was not operated somewhere in Sierra Leone (thanks!). All in all, Ghana has modern facilities and great doctors (many of whom, by the way, were educated in Soviet Union!). Still, this episode put a dent on my rigorous training schedule as I’m missing tons of useful stuff. But my group misses me, and can’t wait for me to return – isn't it sweet? I’m planning to splurge and bring them cheese – they will definitely appreciate it!

Akwaaba! (Welcome!)

Well, folks – I am in Africa! It has only been two weeks since our plane touched down at the Accra airport, but it already seems like a lifetime of impressions, sounds, sights, smells, noises and a choc’ful of other fun stuff. I am currently going through intensive language and technical training in the Eastern region of Ghana where every person greets you with the “How is your whole being?” question, and where schoolchildren and goats chill on steps of numerous churches.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Here are my first impressions of Ghana:

1.       At the airport’s entry we were immediately taken temperature. So far, there has not been a case of Ebola here!

2.       We were driven to the Peace Corps office with a police escort to beat the Accra traffic! Mind you, this royal service only happens when a new batch of trainee arrives; for the rest of the week our drivers battled with numerous tro-tro drivers.

3.       Traffic is crazy. Not Boston-like crazy --- Moscow-kind-of-crazy! All post-Soviet peeps will understand me. Drivers make their own lanes, honk all the time and pick up more people than their lil' cars can fit. Also, tro-tro (the local version of a Russia marshrutka) rules. It is a mini-bus which can fit tons of people along with their kids, goats and merchandise.

4.       DO NOT use your left hand here! If you’re lefty (like me), you’re pretty much screwed. Pointing, greeting, and handing things with your left hand is extremely rude. So, it took some time getting used to this for me, semi-lefty. Good thing I write with the right (ha!) hand.

5.       Children (and people in general) are super-polite. They greet each other for hours, and are very helpful to us, Obronis (local name for foreigners, including white people). A lot of times local folks would chastise someone who tried to give us wrong change or dupe us in any other way.

6.       Ghana – the country of contrasts…. Just like any other developing place (like Kazakhstan), super-rich and super-progressive borders super-poor and super-traditional ways of life. After one week in Accra with its sky-scrapers and Star beer billboards, we were taken to our home stay families in a tiny village of Anyinasin (Eastern Region), where there is one paved road, three working street lights and tons of goats. People have cell phones there, but they wash themselves with bucket baths. FYI – I do enjoy bucket baths! They take minutes and save tons of water.

7.       Local food is delicious. I already tried and liked “red-red” (fried beans and plantains), banku (a ball of fermented corn dough), bofrut (a donut hole), groundnut (peanut) soup and fried tilapia. Oh, I also tried fu-fu, but I’ll tell you about it later. The families we are currently staying with, feed us A LOT. And they won’t hear “No, I’m very full” for an answer – they’ll just feed you more. I was surprised to discover that the food here is fairly spicy: the Ghanaians put a lot of “pepe” (hot pepper) in their sauces and soups. So far I eat my dishes on a mild side.

8.       HOWEVER….. there is no cheese around here! I am being deprived of cheddar, brie, mozzarella and gouda. So, if you’re reading this blog, please please please send me cheese. It won’t spoil, I’ll swear. And if you’re felling generous, please also send beer (Yingling , Shipyard Pumpkinhead or Harpoon, where art though?).

9.       I don’t want to end this post begging for food, so I’ll continue with more impressions. It is hot and humid in here! But it is fairly tolerable. There is even a slight chill early in the morning and a pleasant breeze in the afternoon. Also, it is a rainy season, so it rains almost every afternoon – so, if you have any laundry hanging on a clothesline (which is also washed and rinsed in the bucket), you better take it down J.

The Final Countdown!

Three more days till the Great African Adventure begins! On one hand I’m very calm, but on another….The last month has been like a whirlwind. I travelled to five countries, spent quality time with my wonderful mom and brothers, met old friends, made new ones, laughed, cried, swam in a beautiful Issik Kul Lake, walked around Istanbul, jammed with a whole bunch of Russians at the KSP music fest, saw wonderful art exhibitions, danced at Robyn/Royksopp's concert, drank as much pumpkin beer as I could, faced my hidden sorrows and fears, took tons of pictures, shopped til I dropped at Trader’s Joe (gimme some cookie butter! :)), jogged, breathed, meditated, thought things over…. Man, and I’m not even in Ghana yet!

I’m going there with a clear and open mind. I’m prepared for the worst but hoping for the best. I will miss Boston with its lovely foliage. I will miss you, my friends. Please write to me and send post cards, photographs and back issues of New Yorker and Sun. Oh, and care packages will always be welcome! Anything that you think I may enjoy reading, writing on, doing crafts with, learning from, or eating would be awesome. Here is a list of things that I know I will greatly appreciate:

·         Cheese

·         Beer

·         Cookie butter

·         Books (fiction, non-fiction, sci-fi, fantasy, Russian lit, British lit, humor, magical realism, anything that you read and liked and want to share with me)

·         DVDs (comedy, sci-fi, drama, documentary, rom-com, any movie with JJ Feild, Colin Firth, George Clooney or Harrison Ford)

·         Gold Fish

·         Dry hummus mix

·         Clif bars

·         Guitar strings

·         Song books

·         Duct tape

·         Hand sanitizer

·         Tea Tree shampoo and face wash

·         Post-its

·         Pens

·         Puzzles, riddles and board games

And here is my address for at least the first three months of training (October-December):

Anastasia Bannikova, PCT
Peace Corps Ghana
PO Box 5796
Accra North, Ghana
West Africa

Bees' Post

The other day, while farming at Gaining Ground, I witnessed the coolest thing ever – the swarm of bees looking for a new home, and their migration to their new bee-house! (photos - courtesy of Sue Mildrum).

It all started with an ecstatic-looking looking man in biking gear running  towards us and yelling: “There is a swarm of bees! Yahoo!” It was the farm’s bee-keeper, Max. Turned out, some bees from the main hive defected because there were too many bees in one space. So, some worker bees made a new queen, and once she matured, they flew away with her. Their temporary home turned out to be a little pear tree sapling, so it was very easy to see what the bees were doing. So far they were just sitting there, chilling. Occasionally several bees would fly out and return to tell others about a potential site for their new home. They were doing a little “dance” – jitter-bug (pun intended), to communicate with other bees about their discoveries. Apparently, bees communicate with pheromones, and so the smoke that some bee-keepers use hinders their communication.

 

Max and the other bee-keeper, Sarah, quickly found the box (the future bee-house), the masks and other equipment, and were trying to figure out how to transport all bees into the box. If the bees were on the horizontal branch, they would simply lower the branch into the box. But because they were placed vertically, it was more tricky. Max finally decided to simply shake the bees off the tree trunk! As long as the queen got into the box, all bees would eventually go where she would be. And that’s exactly what happened. It was very cool to just see bees flying around and getting into the box. Max was stung only once (most likely because he was wearing black, bees’ least favorite color). The entire procedure took about 20 minutes. Hopefully I’ll participate in some bee-keeping projects in Ghana! Honey-bees seem to be awesome creatures. Gotta read this book: "Honeybee Democracy" by Tom Seeley.

Getting sentimenal about New England….

I admit that I am going to miss the US in general and New England in particular...

I’ve recently returned from another weekend mini-trip to New Hampshire to witness a marriage ceremony of two friends. The weather (gorgeous sunny 75F), the venue (an old machine-making hall converted into a theatre), the landscape (green fields, yellow flowers, old barns), and the company (great group of family, friends, musicians and runners) brought me to the realization that I will miss ye olde New England (may these photos serve as a reminder).

Zhailau Times

I recently returned from a great volunteering gig: a Zhailau camp organized by a great non-profit organization,  Kazakh Aul of the United States. The camp is designed to teach adopted kids from Kazakhstan about their culture (it welcomes everybody). They learn to dance traditional dance, play dombra, make crafts and play traditional games. The staff wo teaches them hails from Kazakhstan and various US states. This year’s team was great, and there were a lot of familiar faces. We composed funny songs and skits, made plov and baursaki, swam in the lake and had a blast. Kazakh Aul rocks J.

Here is a story of how I found the Kazakh Aul – or, more precisely, how the Aul found me.

Back in 2006, I was flying home to Almaty from Philly. I started to chat with a woman sitting next to me (Gwen), and we formed a bond. Gwen was flying to KZ to pick up her adopted son! The bond was strengthened by the fact that our plane was diverted to Astana because of the very thick fog in Almaty. We ended up spending all day there – walked around frozen city (which was still being developed, there were hardly any hotels), had lunch (pelmeni!) and talked with locals. We were joined by 2 more couples from the same flight who were picking up their adopted kids! Anyway, we made the best out of the less than ideal situation. Gwen even took a little nap at our house when we finally arrived because she was exhausted, and didn’t want to sleep at the Soviet-style gostinitsa (hotel). To make a long story short, once we returned to the US, we continued to write to each other. One day Gwen told me about Kazakh Aul, and I became interested in volunteering. I even went through several phone interviews with board members and the Kazakh team coordinator (lovely Gulmira). And right before the camp’s week in 2010, I found a job in Boston, and had to move right as the camp was happening. Years passed… In 2012, during the KZ Independence party in Boston, I met with Gwen and Susan, the Aul’s director (who I spoke on the phone 2 years earlier!). Well, it was time to redeem myself and join the Kazakh camp staff. So, in 2013 I spent a magical week at Geneva Point Center in New Hampshire.

If I want to take a break from Africa next summer, I may be able to return for my 3^rd Zhailau.