the weekend that's coming

I gave my internet stick to Maddie this morning, because she needed it for work, and I figured I would get a lot more work done without the distraction of Facebook. It worked, it’s now 1:30 and I’ve accomplished quite a bit today. Taking a little bit of time off from it now though. I got distracted, and tried to eat an incredibly under ripe mango. Not a good idea. It was crunchy like an apple. Shame.

Mum told me this morning on Facebook chat that she liked my post- My Jewellery. I didn’t really like that post. But at the time I thought I should right something, and that’s what I thought of when I was looking at my hands on the keyboard. I realised I haven’t told you much, if anything about the work I am doing here. It’s great. The people are great, a few people have given me some music to update my iPod, I’m going through it and Helen has given me “Sugar, Sugar” by The Archives. I pulled my headphones, and we started singing along.

Headphones are back in now. I now have 7 days of music. I’m hoping to grab some Spice Girls off Jaime soon. Well that’s funny, still haven’t told you about the work I’m doing. But the environment is great, We are in an apartment about a 10 minute walk from home. There are 5 desks, and extra chairs in the office, there is a rather large kitchen, with a cook top, a mini fridge and cupboards. There are 2 bedrooms, with 7 beds in total (good for a 3:30 itus nap).

I signed up to do journalism and teaching. I started with the journalism, with the intention of switching to the teaching after my first month. I got into some of the youth policy stuff for the Youth Development Centre that we are opening up, and my boss knows I did youth work at uni, so he asked if I’d like to be the youth worker for the centre. Of course! I never thought I would become a youth worker, and I certainly never thought I’d enjoy it. But I’m loving it. I haven’t actually met the kids yet, the centre won’t open for a little while. So I’m not sure if I’ll enjoy that side of it, but the policy and program writing is great.

Sarah and I wrote a Child Protection Policy for the whole organisation, then she went on to write the Training Manual for the centre, and all volunteers working with kids. I’m now working on the Resiliency Programs, and the Big Buddy program (Big Brother Big Sister).

I can’t wait to meet the kids. We want to play with them, and just let them have the opportunity to be free, all the people from VPWA they have met so far have interviewed them and done tests, we want to just kick a ball and hang out. At some stage though, we are going to do some goal setting with them, so that when new volunteers come to the centre, the kids won’t be answering the same questions continuously. The volunteers can say- “hey I’ve heard you want to be a doctor, that’s pretty cool, what kind of doctor do you want to be?”, instead of- “what do you want to be when you grow up.” I think with so many volunteers coming through, the kids will get sick of introducing themselves and saying goodbye. Unfortunately it seems that it might not be open while I’m here, we were hoping it would be open in early March. If it is open, it won’t be for another month at least.

We currently have 9 volunteers; one boy from Belgium, one girl from Sweden- she leaves in less than a week, one girl from Canada, one girl from Germany, two girls from America, one girl from the UK one girl from South Africa, and me. I think the next boy arrives in June which is a shame for Peter, but he’s a pretty cool kid.

Plans for this weekend are as follows; Sarah left her phone in the car of one of our Ghanaian friends. We all went to Tawala on Wednesday night, it’s a reggae beach party, every Wednesday night. The beach is right near Osu, a pretty cool district of Accra. We’ve been there I think 4 times now, maybe 5 and Wednesday was probably the least happening so far. There weren’t many people around. I guess everyone was all partied out from St Paddys last weekend. So our friend, Stephen AKA Red Shirt Guy, who has Sarah’s phone, he lives in Kokrobite. We go there a lot, to Kokrobite, not his house and often find excuses to go there over other destinations, we are quite well known there, so it’s such a shame that we have to go down there to pick it up. Not. We will head down after work; probably leave Pokuase around 4 or 5. It’s only about 35km away, but could take us anywhere from an hour to 4 hours to get there. Friday’s are a bit of a pain to get down there.

We’ll just stay in Kokrobite for the night; tomorrow night we are planning a night out in Accra. Last Saturday we went out for St Paddys day. We started at Evans house. Evans and I went down to Kaneshie market and bought ingredients for Jollof Rice.  Such a yummy dish. His sister taught me how to make it. It was a really nice night, we had a few drinks on the roof top, with music playing at bars in the area. From there we got dressed in our GREEN, and went to Ryans, which is I think the only Irish pub in Accra. It wasn’t as happening as most Irish pubs I’ve been to, it actually put Irish Pubs to shame seeing as though it was St Paddys day. We met up with some people other volunteers and people who work in Accra. It was quite fun to see everyone. The music was out at midnight, absolute shame, we’d only arrived about 20minutes earlier.

Some of the guys suggested we go to Trantra/3121, and some others suggested Duplex. We hadn’t heard of let alone been to either. We drove past what we thought was Duplex, and it was closed, so we headed to Tantra, but Godwin couldn’t get in because of his shorts. And someone had told us Duplex was elsewhere to what we thought. So we headed there. We hadn’t planned on going to a club at all, and the thought of appropriate foot ware hadn’t occurred to any of us. Unfortunately Jaime and I were wearing thongs, and we weren’t allowed in. Bastards. So Evans went in with Jaime (wearing Maddie’s shoes) and Sarah, then came out with Maddie’s shoes and Sarah’s shoes for me. And we all got in. It worked really well. We all got in, and once inside, no one mentioned the lack of appropriate foot ware.

It was an absolute blast! They were playing really fun commercial house, my favourite to dance to. We all danced for a bit and I had my first vodka cranberry in months! After a while, the place died down a bit, and it was just me and Evans dancing. We then decided to head back to 3121 and try to get in again. We were stopped on the way there, we met a guy at Duplex, and he drove us to 3121, we were stopped by a police man, who was trying to get a bribe out of him. But Ali stood his ground and the cop left. At the entrance to 3121, we all walked in but the bouncer stopped Evans, and tried to charge him 20cedis. It was BS. So I questioned it, the guy said- you are all girls, he’s a guy. So I said, if you charge us 20cedis we won’t go in, but if you let us in for free, we will spend much more than that on drinks. He referred me to the manager; who I said the same thing to. And we were allowed in for free. Nice One.

We danced the night away. It was great fun! By 5:30, Maddie had already left with Godwin, Sarah was chatting with Ali, and Jaime was outside sitting with a German guy we had met about a month earlier. Evans and I decided to leave. The following afternoon, around 4 we all met up and went to the beach and out for dinner. All in all a very enjoyable successful weekend. The point of the story is; both Duplex and 3121 were a lot of fun, and are on the cards for tomorrow night, when we get back from the beach.  Honeysuckle, where we had dinner was also lots of fun.

Update from my dear brother! Best email I've read in a while!! :)

Dear everyone,

As this is my first (and maybe only) update I'll try and be short however as I type and remember things this may be difficult. Also please excuse the spelling, it turns out if you live in a non-english speaking country the computers/internet/spellcheck tend not to be in english.

After a whirl wind tour of Spain and Protrugal (which saw chom and I spend a but load of mums "seperation creek maintenance/upkeep" funds on piss and vinigar) Chom and I headed to maroco for just over a week of eye opening, culture shock and beautiful travels. I then headed to Nice, France at the end of January and it is from here (or there) that I send this email. As most of you have been reading Chom's blog (if not here it is... actually I have no idea what the site is but it has something to do with clothing unicorns in german). I'll jump to a few highlights of Maroco.

Maroc Highlights

- seeing first hand what a 3rd world developing poor country looks like and being breathless at its beauty.

- complete lack of order, not organised chaos but mutualy agreed mayhem. For example the use of the car horn: the deal seems to be that a car will let another car turn or merge infront of them and then honk the hell out of them as if to say "it is my honour to let you go infront and I will honk you to advise you of such"

- getting ripped off by hoteliers and cab drivers... untill we worked out how not to be.

- 30hour bus ride from Casablanca to Dakhla (you think Coober Peady or Alice Spings is off the beaten track! pftt! find yourself in Dakhla for a few days!!!)

- watching wild camels chilling in the Sahara

- eating some of the most amazing food sold by some of the filthiest vedors I've ever seen.

- sharing dinner with stray cats that are more welcom in the restauraunt than you are... after all they are repeat guests.

- watching the raging (and usuly torquoise green) atlantic smash into the white clifs of the western sahara.

- being told be men with machine guns (and without uniforms, suspicious much) that we really shouldnt be here and we aught to leave... this conversation being conducted in a small shed in the middle of the fucking desert, them holding our passports, and speaking agressivly in arabic and then french... neither of which I speak while tiny droplets of pee run down my leg.

- noticing that there is no horizon as the wind lifts white sands of the sahara into the sky creating a white on white on blue sky horizon bipolar dichotomy alliteration... ok now im rambling.

I arived in Nice on a Thursday, applied for work on Friday, started work on Monday... thinking this was amazing I found out that most the employees... and the longer term guests did exactly the same thing (one Canadian girl left on a one year visa to, in her words, "explore europe" only to arrive in Nice and still be there 2months later when I arived... as an aside she has now made it to Paris). This hostel has a pull to it that cannot be easily explained but by working here I can essentially extend my travels indefinatly :) snowboarding in the alps was nothing short of amazing (its only 2 hours from here) and standing in the center of Nice looing at the Cote D'Azure of the French Riviera on one side, turning around to see the snow capped alps behind is a vision I will not soon forget.

So after 3 weeks of partying my ass off, meeting a million different people from a thousand different countries in a hundred different colours I manage to snap my collar bone into 2 distinct peices while flying down a mountian (its my fault of course, 2 days before I had some epic instruction from an ex Burton employee (awesome chick from San Fran) and had 3 nightshifts back to back so I was over confident and exhursted... the perfect combination for a spot of extream sport :) ).

The french medical system is great, they look at you, say in they best english "she'll be right mate" which comes out more like "is ok is ok", perscribe you a sling and some paracetamol and send you packing. 3 weeks off work destroyed any sence of savings I didnt already have but I did manage to credit card a 5 day trip to Rome with a couple of ozzy chicks that was some of the hardest parting to date, not to mention the majesty that is Rome. If ever you travel to Rome the best advice I can give you is 'go fo a walk' as you will see some of the most amazing buildings and sights around every corner... then hit the town and party till waaaay past sunrise. 2 memorable moments from Rome.

1: Meandering around, just a little away from the coleseum (as you do), a car pulls up beside me and the guy starts firing off in italian, I reply in my best ozzy accent "sorry mate I dont speak italian" we start chatting and it turns out he is a clothing rep for some big fasion company and is trying to find some place or other. We share a cigarette and he asks if i know Italian fasion... "er..no" i think to myself.... "yes of course" i reply... he pulls out a cashmere sweater and a leather jaket, has me try them on, wishes me the best of luck and dissapears up the road leaving me standing there with about 300 euros worth of leather and cashmere, and a dumbfounded smile from ear to ear.

2. That night a group of 30 of us head out for a pub crawl, at about 3 am and 6hours of free drinks later, I decide to call it a night and head off to find a train, the metro is closed. "OK" I think, "I'll grab a bus", bus services stop at 2am and restart at 5. I start to sober up a little and realise I know exactly where I am... trashed as a fart... somewhere in Rome.... somewhere in Europe. I decide the best course of action is to walk in a straight line (which is a mission in itself). About 2km later I come across this nicely dressed guy stumbling drunkanly toward me. "gday mate, nice night, can you tell me where the fuck I left my marbles and how do I get to Termini (the main train station in rome and my only landmark)" he does not spek english, I do not speak italian. 20min later it turns out he knows where I need to go and will take me to the nearest bus (this sounds supicious as they are not running but he asures me that it is). 2km of walking later he pulls out a spliff the size of my arm and sugests we share it "bloody brilliant idea" I think, so we sit under the runis of the old roman aquaducts that snake their way through the city and puff puff pass. Me chatting happily away in english and my best, or at this stage worst italian, him replying in his best french and worst italian... needless to say the hilarity of the situation was not lost on either off us. I return to the hostel, somehow, just after dawn and realise my plane leaves in 1 hour and its a 55min bus ride to the airport. Bearly making the plane, drunk, hungover, stoned, leather jaket in hand, passport in my back poket I reallise im FLYING HOME TO NICE!!! and nearly cry I suspect the pain of the hangover did not help the situation.

Ariving back in Nice perectly timed to meet up with another canadian chick who has just spent a week in austria we share stories and again party till dawn. This continues for the rest of the week and well... that was last week.

In summary. traveling is everything everyone says it is and more, there are some many things that cannot be explained with pen and parchment and can only be shared with a knowing wink or nod of the head. I have met the most amazing people, seen the most amazing things, readjusted all of my thoughts on humanity, lost all perjudice and looking forward to more random adventures in cities thousands of years old filled with people just like you and me.

Best small world story to date: met an ozzy chick on my first night in Nice, turns out she grew up in the house that Dad and Sue now live in (it was her uncle that sold them the house). second best small world story: met an american chick from the UK (or was she brittish from america) who went to wesley for 4 years and graduated in 05.

moral of the story. as long as you have a passport. nothing else matters.

Best regards,

James aka John Livingstone Seagull (wink wink loved the book)

PS. please forward to anyone who does not have their email address on facebook :)

My Jewellery

I currently have 7 bracelets, one necklace, 3 rings and an anklet.

I bought the anklet at Big Milly’s, where we stay when we go to Kokrobite on the weekends. There is a little stall that sells dresses, pants, bags and beads. Its cost me 2 Cedis, which is about one Australian Dollar. It’s multi-coloured, and is wrapped around 4 times. I think I will have a white stripe there from the sunshine if I keep it on the whole time I’m in Ghana. The same stall have some beautiful dresses, but I just don’t know when I would wear it if I bought one.

On my left hand I have 3 bracelets that I can’t take off. The first was a gift from Mum to James when she returned from Turkey. It’s brown cord with the eye of protection every 5 cm or so. James gave it to me when we were in Madrid before mum left, to head back to Australia in January. It is wrapped around 6 times.

The second bracelet on my left hand was bought in London in July 2011 next to the London Eye. I was with Taylar, and we spent the day in town. A street vendor came up to us and asked if he could make a bracelet on Taylars wrist. She agreed, knowing he would charge her. He made the British flag. And charged her 5 pounds. He then produced one already made out of his pocket for me with the Jamaica flag colours for me. It’s falling apart.

The third bracelet on my left hand was bought in Kokrobite about 2-3 weeks ago. Apparently it is made out of the old Ghanaian currency, melted down. It doesn’t quite reach all the way around my wrist, it is bent in place. The symbol Sankofa is etched into the middle. It’s a bird reaching around to its back with an egg in its mouth. It symbolises – not to forget where you have come from, to remember that mistakes can be fixed, and it’s not a taboo to go back and get something you forgot about. Sarah and I were sitting on the beach and a man came over to us (that happens quite often). He knelt down beside us, and showed us his bracelets, the thing is, neither of us ever bring any money to the beach, there is apparently so much thievery at the beach that it’s just safer to leave it in the room. It works quite well, coz we never have more than 3-4 cedis, we cant buy anything. We liked his bracelets, and he told us to take the one we liked and he’d find us later and get the money off us. Incredibly trusting. So we did.

On my right wrist I have 4 bracelets. One I brought with me from Australia, I don’t remember where or when I got it. It’s a plain silver bangle.

When I was in Derry in Northern Ireland in July 2011 I bought a bracelet from the cultural centre. I went in one morning to take a tour of the town, but I was the only one, so they asked me to come back in the afternoon. I saw some bracelets on display. I bought two, and sent one to James. The one I kept is red, and has a metal plate in the middle. The plate says ‘peace’ in English on one side and Irish on the other. The one I sent to James is green and says ‘dance’ in both languages.

A friend of mine, Evans, gave Sarah and I a bracelet on Saturday. Its wool and is yellow, red and blue.

The forth bracelet was bought on the beach last Tuesday at Kokrobite from a lovely man. People walk up and down on the sand selling everything from bananas, pineapples, beads, tilapia to pants, dresses, hats, you name it. I had it wrapped around my ankle but the 2 anklets together were a bit much, so I took one off for my wrist. It was too long so I gave it to the same friend who gave me the bracelet on Saturday.

My necklace- James gave it to me at the airport in Melbourne when I said goodbye to them. It’s of the same symbol as our tattoo. About a week later I left it on the windowsill of a bathroom in Northern Ireland. Luckily- a friend of mine in Derry has hung on to it, so whenever I make it back to Derry I can pick it up, or when I have a permanent address (outside Africa), he might be able to post it to me.

I'll tell you about my rings later

Be safe. Please

I can’t just sit here. This is not an easy topic to discuss. At first I wanted to write about it to get it off my chest, out of my head. After it happened I couldn’t sleep, I took my computer outside, it must have been midnight, or just after. I was just going to write about everything that had happened. I went outside, but couldn’t concentrate. Nick came out just after I did, the power was out in the compound and he couldn’t sleep without the fan on. We talked about it, it was nice, he didn’t try to justify it, or make it better; he just listened. We must have talked for at least an hour. And it helped, a lot.

From the beginning:

2 weeks ago now, Sarah and I were taking a tro tro back from the beach to the compound where we live. We were about three quarters of the way back, when I saw a guy in the middle of the road, he must have just been hit by a car, he couldn’t stand up, but he was trying. There were people running from over the road, from all over the place to help him. We must have been 20m away when I first saw him, but we just zoomed past. Why didn’t we stop? People were still driving past this guy, I turned around to look at him, to see what was happening, and cars were still coming. I had never seen anyone hit by a car before, but I would imagine that people would stop, to avoid more accidents. It was quite frightening.

Last Monday, on the same trip back from the beach, Sarah and I were in a tro tro heading back to the compound. It was a bit earlier this time,  the traffic was really bad and we were either stopped or driving really slow for about 15-20 minutes I guess. On the other side of the street I saw about 20 people standing around, they looked like they were waiting for a tro tro, they were just standing there. Then I saw a policeman, which is strange, most of the police I have seen have been at road blocks checking cars at night time. Then I looked down. First I saw the white sheet, it looked like an old plastic/ canvas sack. It was covering a body. I saw the legs, and a substantial amount of blood. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. How long had they been lying there? Where was the ambulance?

Last Thursday, most of the volunteers went for burger night at the Canadian Embassy in Accra. At about 9pm, everyone except Sarah and I went home. We have met a few people working in Accra, and other volunteers we wanted to keep chatting with. So we stayed. At about 11 I guess we decided to jump in the pool, fully clothed. It was amazing. Incredibly refreshing, even at night the humidity can get pretty high. The people working at the embassy asked us to get out, or we wouldn’t be allowed to come back. So we did, soaked. By this stage most people were leaving. It must have been 11:30 when we left. (Time works very differently here, I barely look at the clock). We jumped in a taxi, that poor mans taxi, the back seat must have taken forever to dry. We were chatting and laughing about the night. It was a lot of fun. We must have been about half way home, we drove up over a bridge, it is connected by 4 roads and has a roundabout in the middle. There were cars packed all the way up the road, with their lights still on. It was strange. Then I saw the people standing around. It looked strange. It happened so slowly. Then we saw the motorbike on the ground. About 5m away, he was lying on the ground. Was he dead? He must have been, no one was anywhere near him. I don’t think he was wearing a helmet. He wasn’t wearing leathers. It must have just happened. His poor family.

Please don’t drive too fast, don’t drink and drive. Please wear your seatbelt. Please just be safe on the road. In Ghana, I’ve heard that it is more likely to die in a tro tro accident than from malaria.