Dumsor Days

These are interesting times in Ghana. On any given night, at least one-third (and sometimes two-thirds) of residents are quite literally in the dark - and these are the ones who are connected to the grid. For a number of reasons (including power plant shortages, unreliable gas pipelines from Nigeria and low water levels feeding dams), the national grid is functioning well below capacity. The end result is rolling blackouts, known as "lights out", or "dumsor dumsor" (Twi for "off-on, off-on").

The Electricity Company of Ghana (ECG, which may also stand for Electricity Comes and Goes or Either Candle or Generator) has become perhaps the country's most reviled public institution. To make load-shedding a predictable exercise, they have issued a timetable where residents are in one of three zones. Within a 36-hour period, for 12 hours, power is guaranteed, for 12 hours it will be off, and the remaining 12 hours are dependent on the overall demand. The catch is that the timetable is mostly unpredictable and neighbourhoods will go for days on end without power. The ECG is also facing a massive deficit for a logical reason: customers who do not receive electricity are not likely to pay their bills.

The end result? People make do, but any business requiring access to electricity (from internet cafes to cold stores) either have to shut down, or pony up for a generator and burn ridiculous amounts of diesel. Incidentally, two of the biggest businesses are selling overpriced generators and phone-charging services.

For larger businesses, the stakes are even higher: if a factory does not have regular power and cannot afford an industrial-sized generator, it simply shuts down and tells its employees to go home, reducing productivity to a fraction. Even the biggest companies are affected. So the economy is starting to slow down.

Like many relatively affluent residents, Mr. and Mrs. O have access to a generator, which has shielded them from the worst effects of dumsor. The hum of the generator in the yard (and neighbors' yards) has become a fact of life, as is the smell of burning diesel. In less than two years, Mr. O has gone from being a recycling, bike-commuting eco-hippie to a near-constant consumer of fossil fuels - one could say he has cashed in his lifetime of carbon credits.

But the alternative is worse: the 1% of Ghana live very much in a gilded cage: high walls, razor wire, guards, etc. Take electricity out of the equation, and it becomes a gilded sarcophagus. Quite simply, the infrastructure prepared for Accra's elite requires a lot of resources. Not only do westerners consume more imported non-recyclable goods and rely on private transportation, but even the houses built for them are wasteful.

In the case of Mr. and Mrs. O, their delightful temporary home is a giant concrete box that is completely inappropriate for the climate: it directly absorbs the equatorial sun, has no natural ventilation (no cross-breezes), and every room requires its own air conditioner. Back home, an AC unit was something installed in the bedroom before a heatwave; here it is an essential item in any inhabited room.

So when the generator fails and the repair guy is slow to arrive, things get hot and sticky in the house. The water pump is also electricity-dependent, so when power fails, best to fill the buckets with the remaining water pressure. At the university, a night without power was an inconvenience; now, a nightmare.

To keep things in perspective, even having a generator that works most of the time is a great privilege. So enjoy the AC, don't mind the humming and get used to the smell.

On the upside, Ghanaians keep a good sense of humour through it all. For example, here is an explanation of how dumsor happens.

Mountains and Monkeys, Waterfalls and Weavers

There's no getting around it: Ghana is a bloody hot and sunny place. Even a brief time in the open leaves most visitors exhausted. In addition to having little canopy left, Accra is stiflingly humid and sends expats to their air-conditioned offices and pools (or for volunteers and students, to a cold bucket shower and a fan). Northern Ghana has none of the humidity, but during the day, the sun is even more oppressive.

Thank God for the Volta Region. The area of the country East of the artificial Lake Volta features highlands that experience a lot of moisture and humidity, but the nights are blessedly cool as the wind and clouds blow through. The region is also the homeland of the Ewe people, who are known for their friendliness.

All of this makes for an excellent long weekend from Accra. Mr. and Mrs. O convinced a recently-arrived and adventurous family to join them to visit a hilltop getaway of which Mr. O had fond memories but was not sure of the condition of the place. However, the group was lured by tales of waterfalls and monkeys, so they made the trek.

The main bridge to the Volta at Adomi is closed for repairs due to... well, nobody maintaining it.With the emergency ferry experiencing lineups, the group took a dogleg through Sogakope to Ho, with a pleasant lunch and pool break at the scenic Skyplus Hotel.

The view over Ho at the Skyplus Hotel

The road to Biakpa Mountain Paradise Resort was winding, but freshly-paved and a lot of fun - driving on a Ghanaian mountain pass would otherwise not be for the faint of heart. But the drive is worth it: the air up in the mountains is very cool, with clouds passing by and featuring cold, fog-soaked nights and mornings until the sun burns it away.

The "resort" was very basic - and as an isolated former government rest house in the hills, but it had all of the essentials for a very reasonable price. It also had a few interesting bells and whistles added over the years by its entrepreneurial owner: The kids (and Mr. O) immediately took to the trampoline and the enclosures for rabbits and turtles.

The group decided to go for a guided waterfall hike, which went down a valley path through cocoa fields and dense bush. It also featured some not-so-family-friendly features, including rope paths down steep hills and a full-on rappel down a rock face to get to the waterfall. Having made it so close, the families decided to cheat death and do the rappel, with Little Miss tied to Mr. O with a large cloth and under explicit instructions to hold on for her dear life. Quite simply: it was probably one of the worst parenting decisions ever made by Mr. and Mrs. O.

Just a Sunday walk in the woods.

However, the payoff was huge: a beautiful waterfall and pool for swimming after a long hike in the humid bush.

Worth the journey.

The group also went for a day trip to the nearby villages of Tafi Atome and Tafi Abuipe, which are known for their monkey sanctuary and traditional kente weaving respectively. In the case of Tafi Atome, the area had a local nuisance of monkeys (which were a convenient food source), until someone got the idea to develop an eco-tourism project in the early 1990s. Since then, the village has been an attraction, which has been a boon to an otherwise remote and quiet community. Finding the monkeys was easy enough: a five-minute walk into the forest, where the guide called to the area troop, who came for the bananas the group brought. Hold out a half-opened banana and they'll be hopping up in no time.

New friends at Tafi Atome

While colourful kente cloth is most well-known in the Ashanti Region, the Ewes of the Volta Region have also been producing it for hundreds of years. Another community tourist scheme, a visit to the village is relaxed and a great cultural experience, as visitors are encouraged and can watch it being weaved by traditional loom.

Weaving kente at Tafi Abuipe

The workshop

The aforementioned bridge closure has greatly discouraged tourists from visiting the Volta Region, which has affected local operators, but it is still very much worth the journey, both for the cool mountain air in the oppressive heat of the dry season as well as the warm people. Ghana is known (somewhat suspiciously) as the friendliest place in Africa, but Volta is known (quite accurately) as the friendliest place in Ghana.
 

African Football Is Never Boring

 

Tonight is the final of the 2015 African Cup of Nations (AFCON). For people outside of the continent, this means nothing. But for the 54 countries inside, it's the biggest African sport event outside of the World Cup. Ghana is playing neighbour Côte d'Ivoire for the final - a meeting of giants. But this is not why African football is so interesting. Consider how we got to this evening:

Case Study 1: Morocco

In early 2014, the Ebola virus outbreak grew, from Guinea, to Sierra Leone to Liberia. In the ensuing panic, AFCON 2015 host Morocco decided that maybe they didn't want all of those other Africans coming and maybe sneezing on them. So at the last minute, they not-so-helpfully declined. The Confederation of African Football (CAF) then panicked to find a replacement host. For their idiocy, CAF decided that Morocco will forfeit their spot in this tournament and are banned from qualifying for 2017 and 2019 as well.  

 

Case Study #2: Equatorial Guinea

African teams have a strange habit of not following the rules and fielding ineligible players, which sunk a few teams in World Cup qualifying. Equatorial Guinea followed this tradition (fielding a Cameroonian in a qualifier) and were promptly disqualified.

However, with AFCON looking for a home, the tiny oil-rich and massively corrupt nation benevolently offered to host (and take Morocco's spot), so all of that disqualification business was quickly forgiven.

 

Case Study #3: The Mauritian Referee
In extra time of a deadlocked match between Tunisia and Equatorial Guinea, the Mauritius-born referee awarded a controversial last-minute free kick to the overmatched hosts, who scored.

This put them ahead of Tunisia into the knockout round. Saving face, CAF suspended the ref for incompetence. When the Tunisian Football Association's president accused CAF of cheating (football associations being notoriously corrupt), they banned him from all activities.

Case Study #4: Equatorial Guinea, yet again

In the semi-finals, the plucky host team's luck ran out and they were routed by Ghana 3-0. The Equatoguinean fans started pelting visiting Ghanaian fans and the team and a riot ensued, stopping the match and resulting in a large fine for the hosts. Ghanaians reportedly fled to their embassy for shelter.

And that in a nutshell is why African football is never boring.

Dust to Dust

This was supposed to look cooler.

As the new year rings in, the dry season has come with a vengeance. Accra is hot, dry and dusty.

The year in West Africa is separated largely into two seasons: wet and dry. The wet season is when farmers grow their crops and people enjoy the double-edged sword of cool weather and breeding mosquitoes. After October, the rains stop and the winds from the Sahara (known as the harmattan) slowly creep south, bringing the desert dust along for the ride. The lack of rain and clouds and dry air make for an intense heat. Meanwhile, every surface, from tables to tennis courts is quickly covered in a layer of red dust.

This year, the harmattan is particularly strong. Unlike last year, there has been nary a drop of rain in Accra to keep the red dust down and the city has become blanketed in it. On some days, visibility is reduced to a few hundred metres and one can stare directly at the sun by 3pm, so thick is the dust. Even washing the car seems pointless, so quickly it is soiled again. Yet, it is more than just a nuisance: everybody is getting sick, asthma sufferers rarely venture outside and flights are being cancelled, as planes cannot safely land on the runway in Tamale. It has been suggested that this year's cocoa crop is at risk due to the stress on the trees.

How dusty is it? Even the trees could use a wash.

In North America, climate change is still a topic of heated discussion, with a shrinking minority unconvinced. Go to Ghana and one would be very hard pressed to find a denier -  from farmers to politicians, everyone is concerned about the increasing temperatures, erratic rainfall and desertification in the region. Last year, the city had regular rains throughout the dry season, which was itself an anomaly. This year, the opposite is occurring.

On the bright side, the dust counters the thick humidity and reduces the intensity of the sun, which means that the mornings are nice and cool and the days are not too intense. Even with the intense heat, the local pool is surprisingly chilly.

Hatching, Matching and Dispatching - Going Home as an Expat

Open spaces, familiar smells, no mosquitoes: must be home!

One of the great things about living abroad is the sense of adventure, whether it be the new places, new cultures or personal growth.

One of the terrible things about living abroad is that one is not at home for the events great and small: births, deaths, weddings, Halloween trick-or-treating, Christmas dinner, New Year's Eve, etc.

This is all part of the chosen life. In exchange for being the crazy person who lives halfway around the world, you change your status in the minds of others. You are not there. You are out of the picture. And when you do go home, you are this week's special guest, complete with questions that you would rather not answer. "Tell me, how is that whole Ebola thing going?"

Mr. and Mrs. O have indeed gone home since they arrived so many months ago. They spent a few precious weeks spending quality time with family and friends and gorged on the things they missed most: salmon, corn on the cob, craft beer, potato chips and Netflix.

Why not write about these things? Perhaps it would be difficult to accurately convey to the reader the wonder of eating fresh strawberries. Perhaps it would betray the incredible privilege of simply hopping on a plane and visiting home at one's leisure. They are roughing it, of course.

The reasons for the visits home are the usual for expats: hatching, matching and dispatching. That is to say, births, weddings and funerals.

A good reason to go home.

The first visit was planned around summer holidays, but also a close friend's wedding, which allowed for the family to feel part of home and see lots of family and friends, including quality time with the grandparents. Yet for every wonderful wedding attended, the family has missed two and will probably miss a few more. Again, a price of the life abroad.

A not-so-good reason to go home.

The second visit was more unexpected and was for a family funeral. In this case, Mr. O still got to feel part of home and see lots of family and friends - yet for the most tragic of reasons. And there might be more missed. This too, comes with the territory.

Friends and family of Mr. and Mrs. O have also given notice that they will soon be having babies. However, it will be a while before they can see the little ones, so they will simply have to experience it virtually.

That being said, the ability to speak to a dying loved one by phone or video call and to fly home to be with family is a privilege. Once upon a time, people sailed for weeks on end to live miserable lives in a completely alien place and they would find out of a loved one's passing by letter months later. And that was it. Now, one can check on any of their friends on Facebook and see photos and videos of newborns and weddings, among a thousand other life events, both consequential and inconsequential.

It is now approaching the Christmas season, which expats seem to engage in one of two ways: 1) spend serious money and energy to go home for the holidays to be with family for a traditional Christmas in cold weather, or 2) go somewhere to completely forget about home, usually with a beach.

This year, the family has decided that with all of the recent travel home, they will be going for option 2 with like-minded friends eager for a little escapism.

That Time in Cape Town (The Revenge)

That's more like it.

A public park, complete with Vootrekker jungle gym.

The guide/ex-prisoner shows Robben Island.

Several months after the unexpected medical detour on the way to South Africa, Mr. and Mrs. O were ready to exact their revenge.Why the obsession with Cape Town? In short, it is not Africa. This is where expats tired of life in high-walled, overcrowded and polluted cities go for a break (Johannesburg included). It is practically a rite of passage for many. From the stories, it sounds like the Happiest Place on Earth. (The open spaces! The seaside! The sidewalks! The stores! The restaurants! The food! The wine! The potable water! etc)

After many months in Ghana, Cape Town is indeed like stepping into a dreamland. It is stunningly gorgeous, with the backdrop of Table Mountain, the ocean, the greenery, it makes one understand why the Dutch decided to make a home and why Afrikaaners went to atrocious lengths to hold onto it for themselves for 400 years.

For the family, it meant staying in a quality hotel where everything worked and no detail was overlooked, popping out every morning for a coffee and pastry, followed by a walk in the park and a trip to a memorable and well-executed tourist site that accommodates children (Cape Town Kids has a massive list of things to do).

Little Miss in the "Nemo" tank.

And indeed, there were many places to see. Just a few highlights:

• The V&A Waterfront: featuring seaside shopping, restaurants and other toursity places like the top-notch Two Oceans Aquarium.
• The Cape of Good Hope: a drive down to the cape is well worth it, including cliffside roads, a national park, and visiting the penguins at Boulder Beach.
• Table Mountain: the iconic backdrop to the city also has a cableway to the summit (weather permitting) and the views are much more panoramic than a humble blog can handle.  
• Robben Island Museum: the infamous island prison that housed Nelson Mandela and many other political prisoners, which is a short boat ride from Cape Town and a sobering place to visit.
• Woolworth's: not actually a tourist site, but for a Ghana resident, walking into a store to buy a gallon of fresh organic milk and local raspberries is an experience in itself.
• World of Birds: no time to drive out of town for a safari? Not going to shell out for your pre-schooler? This place has over 3,000 birds and various mammals and reptiles, including an enclosure to feed squirrel monkeys, which alone was worth the price of admission.

  

  Enjoying the views down the Cape.

  
  

There is a darker side to Cape Town as well: the effects of apartheid are still quite strong, including the legacy of enforced segregation, which means blacks mostly live in the under-developed outskirts, while the whites have the prime real estate downtown and by the sea. Security bars are everywhere and the city has been given the nickname "Rape Town" for good reason.

To get a sense of the other side of Cape Town, Mr. O took a Township Tour, which sheds some light on the non-touristy side of the city, including Langa and Gugulethu. While blacks are not required to live in them, townships are for many the only affordable option. While they do not have the physical poverty common in Ghana, there is a spiritual poverty, with astronomical rates of HIV, alcoholism, drug abuse and unemployment.

Oh hello there. Welcome to my beach.

As scary as they sound, they are also communities and municipalities (some in the hundreds of thousands). Life in the townships is undoubtedly rough, but there are also those who are working to improve life, and while tours like these are derided by many as poverty tourism, participants unanimously praise it as giving a window into an area ignored by outsiders and building intercultural understanding.

Life on the other side of Table Mountain.

After seeing both sides, there was one last obligatory stop: the supermarket. At the nearby Pick and Pay, the family stocked up on essentials of all kinds: organic fair trade coffee, instant oatmeal, fruit snacks, baking ingredients, medical supplies and other goodies. Thus, the family made sure they used all of their allotted weight on their trip back to Accra and had a happy ending to the trip.

Wedding Bells

"Sorry, I've never been to one of these weddings before."

"Ghanaian?"
"No, Presbyterian."

In two visits and almost two years, Mr. O was rather ashamed that he had never been to a local wedding. When a coworker graciously invited the office to her impending nuptuals, he jumped at the chance.

What's a wedding without a personal musician?

In Ghana, much of the social calendar revolves around three events: births, weddings and funerals. The outdooring of a newborn is rather exciting for the community, much like a baptism. The pomp and circumstance of a wedding is rivaled only by the incredible lengths that a family will go towards to send off their dearly departed. A "proper" funeral comes at the end of a month-long process including full-colour homecoming advertisements, rituals (Christian/Islamic and indigenous) and the deceased is sent off in a massive ceremony (mournful or joyful, depending on the age and social status) with lots of food, fine clothing, colourful decorations and always a sound system blasting upbeat pop tunes, perhaps to alert St. Peter of a new arrival. At the end is a massive mortuary and party bill that families will go into serious debt over, lest they look like they did not really care about their relatives deceased and living. Thus, there is a lot of money to be made in the local industries of hatching, matching and dispatching.

Let's have a look at what we are getting ourselves into.

Thus a wedding seems a bit less daunting of a proposition for an obruni. Mr. O joined a number of colleagues made the journey to nearby city of Koforidua. Perhaps it was the fresh rains greening the surrounding hills and the blue skies over the colonial-era buildings, but the place had a certain charm about it. Also, it appeared to be kept very neat and tidy for its size. (Editorial note: expat residents will not corroborate this opinion.)

The wedding itself was pleasant. The service was held in a Presbyterian hall and the stage featured not only the usual wedding setup, but a total of THIRTEEN pastors and prophets. Thankfully, there was only one emcee and one keynote sermon that went for about 45 minutes and consisted of the classic African subjects of "Why don't young people respect marriage and tradition?" and "It's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve".

Their moves are not found in the Roman Catholic missal.

Livening up the service was a killer church choir that had been bussed in from Winneba. Between the pastors, prophets and choir, it seemed like the hosts were quite a power couple. There was also a revered traditional musician (minstrel?) that followed the couple down the aisle. The foreigners occupied a privileged space in the audience, up front next to the chiefs (two) and mothers and aunties (too many). After the deal was sealed, the aunties in the front spontaneously got up and had a revival-style dance party in front of the altar. 

Need snappy logistics in Ghana? Hire a wedding planner.

The ceremony clocked in around three hours - some noted that Presby weddings are long even by local standards. The ensuing photos, rejigging of the hall and reception were surprisingly short for westerners who are used to marathon events going into the wee hours. There was a buffet dinner served and a few words of thanks, but no big speeches or organized dancing. The group toasted with sparkling juice and the whole thing was wrapped up by 5, as the happily-married couple sent the group off.