John Legend concert in aid of the flood victims in the Northern regions of Ghana

What-what?!

First Shaggy, now John Legend?! Unbelievable, eh?!

Nope, it's true! My boy came to perform here in Accra on October 28!!

The purpose of his journey to Ghana was to raise funds to aid the flood victims up North. This is the worst year for record flood levels all across this part of Africa... from this side all the way East to Kenya.

So Legend performed his entire album 'Get Lifted' and some new releases he has! It was fantastic and a real treat for me to finally catch him live!

See, I tried to get tickets to see him and Alicia Keys when they came to Casino Rama, Orillia but they sold out at $30.00CDN, so it's unbelievable that I saw him for just $2.00CDN!!!!

It has to be one of the highlight's of my time here so far in Accra!!

On November 3, I went to a wedding with my co-workers for the daughter of one of our zone leader's at HelpAge Ghana. It was at an Anglican church in Korle Gonno and they had Canadian colours-- red and white!

It was very similar to our weddings back home I found.

On November 6 (Happy Birthday Wondy!), I was asked by my boss to attend the debut of a UNFPA (UN's Population Fund branch) documentary on overpopulation.

Overpopulation in Africa is one of those funny myths... if you look at the land mass as compared to the amount of people living here in Africa, you see that the problem is not that Africa is in fact overpopulated, but instead that because of industrialization, so many are migrating to city metropolis', thus making the living conditions in these cities challenging (lack of electricity, water, pollution, poor road conditions, housing shortages, etc.) which can appear as 'overpopulation' in some way I suppose.
As well, the claim is that Africans are producing too many children for what they can actually provide for, because they are so 'promiscuous'. The sociological issues surrounding this topic are almost always overlooked to appease audiences/donors.

Perhaps they should have focused more on the latter issue I raised concerning people being able to actually afford bringing more babies into this world-- here in Africa. Or how such a dense amount of people in one place is contributing to global warming...

anyway, that is just what the UN does best and it was interesting anyway to attend the documentary on his behalf because of the focus they gave to fistula's.


Miss Ghana 2007 has taken it upon herself to advocate for raising funds/awareness on obstetric fistula's affecting young, Ghanaian women here in rural area's predominantly.

For those unaware, an obstetric fistula is a hole in the birth canal caused by prolonged labour without prompt medical intervention, usually a Cesarean section. The woman is left with chronic incontinence and, in most cases, a stillborn baby.

This is a condition that urgently requires more attention to be paid to it, and more money needs to be channeled into the minor surgery required to repair these fistula's.

The smell of leaking urine or feces, or both, is constant and humiliating, often driving loved ones away. Left untreated, fistula can lead to chronic medical problems, including ulcerations, kidney disease, and nerve damage in the legs. A simple surgery can normally repair the injury, with success rates as high as 90% for experienced surgeons. The average cost of fistula treatment and post-operative care is just US $300. Sadly, most women with the condition do not know that treatment is available, or they cannot afford it.

Like maternal mortality, fistula is almost entirely preventable. But at least 2 million women in Africa, Asia and the Arab regions are living with the condition, and some 50,000 to 100,000 new cases develop each year. The persistence of fistula is a signal that health systems are failing to meet the needs of women. Obstetric fistula occurs disproportionately among impoverished girls and women, especially those living far from medical services.

I first heard about fistula's years ago affecting young, Ethiopian women and their stories deeply moved me...
imagine having no other choice but to get married at age 10 or so to bring your family some income to sustain them, then getting pregnant in your loveless marriage and not having your tiny, undeveloped body able to push through a baby unto this world. These young girls will often go through labor for days... even weeks.
Then once they develop these fistula's, they are shunned by family and friends because of the stench smell they can't control. Some families even build separate huts, yards behind where they are living for their young, rejected daughter to just suffer alone because she is disgracing the family because of her uncontrollable medical condition.

Imagine actually having to suffer through this yourself if you can...
just another reason to give Thanks for what we do have readily available in our own lives.

Westward-bound along the coast to Shama

Apologies first and foremost to my blog-followers. I have no excuse as to why it has taken me so long to post again, just reasons!

So I will rewind a bit to bring you up to what I have been preoccupied with.
October 19th saw me travelling towards the Western part of Ghana (towards Cote d'Ivoire) to a small city called Shama, near Takoradi. I went with my boss/Director of HelpAge Ghana (HAG), my roommate, Beth and HAG's driver/my brother, Nat. The purpose of our visit was to check on the progress of a corn mill that had broken down there in a rural area near the ocean.
From my understanding, HAG funded this corn mill for elderly women to bring their maize to grind themselves (it is a staple food here) and potentially sell out of a shop that is to be built onto the mill.
The whole thing was really just a foundation and looked quite dilapidated to me in fact. My roommate and I were a bit dismayed at what we saw.

We also took time to meet with a former leader of HAG for the Shama zone who appeared quite dismayed and angry at the direction HAG was going in terms of what was not happening in her community. She spoke her local language, complaining to my boss, so I missed everything...
I miss a lot here in fact.

The pollution along the coast line got to me as well. So much of the water we saw was brackish and as I mentioned in a previous blog, the ocean just churns black plastic bags, over and over again with human waste, forgotten clothing and old rice bags. It's very sad in fact b/c Ghana has the potential to have one of the most pristine coastlines but it's just not within the citizens yet to not litter and pollute their countryside. Even the gutters in Accra are just plenty full of rubbish. Nasty.

This was also the day I learned of the passing of South Africa's (if not Africa's) biggest reggae star, Lucky Dube. It came over all newscasts that he had been shot in a 'botched robbery'.
Oh South Africa... when will your people realize the potential for change is all within themselves??... I suppose when the disparity between the white and black SA's dissolves into oneness... is that even possible in my lifetime?
It saddened me and most Ghanaians here to learn of this news. Dube was a pure image of what independent Africa could and should look like. It is such a shame his life had to be spared & in front of his children--, all in the name of stealing a 'nice car'?
I continue praying for you, South Africa every day...

The final but most poignant part of my journey to Shama was one of the last activities we did-- which was to visit the Shama Castle, a former Portuguese-run, slave castle that Ghanaians were banished to before heading to the Caribbean.
Haunting is an understatement for the adjective I'm searching for to describe what was running through my veins as we went from room to room... hearing the atrocious tales of what the Portuguese did to their slaves.

One of the first things the tour guide did was show us remnants of some of the former slaves... we saw tibia bones, wrists and even someones jawline with teeth intact. It just stung my soul with deep and raw emotion and my overall being in general.

We were taken to rooms the size of my garage in Formosa where 350 men & women were forced to stay. They were held in this tiny room for 3 months before being shipped off to the Caribbean (where most would then die)-- serving the remainder of their lives as slaves (that is, if they survived the treacherous journey by sea).
These rooms had 1 air hole slit the length of a school ruler(30cm) and maybe an inch high and the slaves were kept captive in the darkness on 1 meal a day (and the 'meal' I mean was just something to sustain them for the day, & to not have them going to the bathroom too often. They were given 1 pot to use as a toilet for all those 100's of people and a slave was given the task of emptying it 1/day. Can you imagine the smell and filth that saturated that dark and dank room? As well, they were only allowed to bathe 1 time in the 3 months and that was before they boarded the ships to carry them away... and it was described as an 'assembly-line' type bath where the guards hosed them down as if they were animals.

There were shackles that remained in an archway where slaves were used as 'examples' to others who were caught doing indecent acts (such as a husband and wife attempting to have sex)-- the man would be shackled and hung there, whipped and tortured as an example to other husbands contemplating this act as well.

They called 1 room the 'point of no return' room that had a crack in the wall (man-made) where the slaves would file into when their time came to board the ships that would leave the Gold Coast (Ghana) to travel to the Caribbean.

There were underground tunnels that went from the castle to the oceanfront, so as to hide what was really happening from other Ghanaian's living in Shama, if you can imagine. So they would be walked underground with their shackles (so as to not escape), through these dark tunnels to the point where they would board the boat that would change the rest of the life they knew in Ghana, before being captured.

It was sick to have to go to the top of the castle where the Portuguese Captain slept-- in a beautiful, airy room (have I mentioned yet how HOT Ghana is?!) with a gorgeous ocean-view.

In an ironic twist, young school children attending a school nearby starting chanting to my roommate and I, "obroni, how are you!?!" Obroni means 'white person'. So there we stood... high atop this former slave castle and though they were just children, it felt strange to be revered in that moment... and there is too much of that in my opinion here... bestowing so much prestige and knowledge with white people here. We are all one and have a lot to learn from one another.

Even as I sit here typing this today-- and I left that castle over a month ago now, I can still feel the spirits of the lives lost there around me and all the stories they had to share-- but never got the chance. It is such a privilege for us to walk about this earth as free as most of us do... never fully knowing or acknowledging the plight so many of our brothers and sisters had to endure, just so we could be this free.

Before leaving the castle for good (and my roommate stole a photo of me while deep in thought which I treasure now...), I sat on those steep and dangerous steps that led up to the moment that solidified my views on slavery.
All that kept running through my mind was, 'God, will you ever forgive us for what we've done to one another'?

Will He? Can He?