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MAKING PAPER AND BOOKS IN GHANA

Ghana is a sub Saharan country on Africa’s western bulge. There is a small fishing village called Nungua on the coast near Ghana’s capital city of Accra, and – in the midst of this village – there is ABA House.

Founded by an art teacher from Massachusetts, ABA House Cross Cultural Collaborative is a non-profit on a very small scale. It is a testimony to the little steps that add up to big change. School-aged children, and the baby brothers and sisters they are responsible for after school, come to this place to work with artists who help them produce crafts that are sold to earn money for their school supplies. The artists come from all over the world and most often they learn more from these children than they teach.

Each day the back gate to ABA House swings open and the children come in - sometimes along with the neighboring goats that have to be shooed out. There might be three children and there might be twenty. It all depends on the school day – some are morning sessions and some afternoon – and other responsibilities.

There is something for everyone at ABA House. The littlest ones sit together and study the dog-eared picture books they choose from the small bookshelf that constitutes the library. Once they are around 5 or 6, they begin to help with the papermaking process by swishing rags in a bucket of precious, rationed water. The water is piped into the village tanks every Saturday and if it runs out there is no more until the next week.

The oldest kids, tall boys and blossoming girls of 14 and 15, have been coming to ABA House since they were young, so the artwork is familiar to them. They love the latest music, called hip life (a fusion of the traditional Ghanaian band sound of high life and hip hop) and know all the latest dances. But there is still a sweetness about them and an eagerness to do the work at ABA House.

During my teaching visit, the work was papermaking; there, this process is especially labor-intensive and somehow infuses each handmade sheet with a sense of the miraculous.

First, the leaves of the sugar cane, a plant that grows taller than a man, and freely all over Ghana, are harvested and dried. Then they are cut into tiny pieces – the children are lucky if one of the visiting artists has brought scissors, as any metal corrodes in the sea air and dull, rusty blades make hard work.

When there is a proper two buckets and a half of cane, one of the older boys will build a fire in the yard. Recycled wood, scraps, fallen branches…anything at hand is fed to this fire that is watched and stoked constantly. The old metal pot of cane cooks for most of a day in its bath of water and caustic soda. When the cane fibers have broken down enough to make paper, the cane is transferred to mesh bags that the kids lug over boulders and down to the sea. There, the cane is washed in seawater (fresh water is in such short supply), the bags dragged in and out with the waves until the water runs clear.

Next, the cane is pounded a little at a time to break down and separate the fibers until they are fine enough to make paper. The beating is another arduous process, done by hand with two flat pieces of wood, or in a large mortar with a pestle, or pole, that is taller than some of the children using it. When the pulp is ready it feels soft as a baby’s bottom and has no rough bits of cane sticking out of it.

At last, after nearly three long days of hard work, it is time to make paper. Pulp is swished into a plastic tub of water and a mold and deckle set – basically a piece of window screen stretched on a wooden frame with a second empty frame on top to contain the pulp – is slid into the vat and carefully lifted out to drain. The top frame is removed and the screen, with its covering of pulp, is laid face down, or couched, on a dampened rag. Felts or blotters would be a luxury here – the remnants of tattered bed sheets actually serve perfectly well. The screen is lifted off very gently to prevent tears and wrinkles, and there – at last - is a sheet of paper.

The sheets are left to dry, often as long as 24 hours or more because of the high humidity, and then peeled off their backing rags. They are stacked and weighed down under boards, rocks or any other heavy objects the children have been able to find.

The next step will be to decorate the paper with adinkra stamps. Adinkra are visual symbols, first created on Africa’s west coast, that represent cultural concepts or adages.

The stamps are carved from gourd shells, or calabash as they are known in Africa, and the ink used is made from the badie tree: the bark and roots are boiled in a large garbage can over a wood fire until reduced to a tarry mass. The dye can be a deep umber brown, or even a near black, if cooked longer. The collecting of the bark and the laborious distillation make this a precious commodity, even without the special meanings imbued in the stamps.

Aba House has one treasured plastic drinking water bottle full of the dye and so the boys hunt for fire-makings and set the waxy dye to soften over a small brazier. When it is ready, there is a sense of great suspense as the first adinkra stamps are dipped into the dye vat and imprinted on scrap paper.

Once the dye is viscous enough to make a clear image, the children set to work stamping all the sugar cane papers they have made. A glorious array of decorated, handmade papers is laid out on the ABA House floor to dry.

What remains is to work with the kids to make these papers into various book forms, cards, and other objects that might find a market and provide some income in return for the long hours, creative energy and hard work they have devoted to the craft.

These kids are a testament to the success of ABA House. They come back day after day, year after year, and soak up whatever is being taught: clay, batik, mosaic, paper arts. With this support and encouragement, they are earning the wherewithal to stay in school, becoming part of the rich craft tradition of West Africa, and learning other ways and cultures as they work with the artists who come to ABA House. The artists who come to teach for ABA House take home the special experience that comes from living within a little village, instead of passing through as tourists. They forge friendships, learn humility, and know that creativity is finely honed through the soul rather than by an abundance of materials.

-- Suzanne Hall

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Rediscovering the Muse - by Barbara J. Allen

In the winter of 2002 it became clear to me that I needed to rediscover my creative muse. As much as I love teaching art at a large urban high school in Connecticut, working with adolescents can produce a serious energy drain. The devastating events of September 11 caused me to refocus my curriculum with the emphasis on Peace Education through the Arts, and I became a promulgator of making a friend "other than you" in my teaching studio.

I took every opportunity in my professional capacity as an educator to integrate the strongly diverse student population enrolled in our department. I knew that in order to continue this work I would need to seek out a similar experience that would offer my students some positive modeling. I began to research in earnest how to spend my summer break with these goals in mind.

In August of 2002 I found myself heading to Ghana, West Africa to be a part of Aba House Cross Cultural Collaborative. CCC was conceived by former art teacher Ellie Schimelman. Aba as she is known in Ghana, has a clear vision for CCC to act as a forum for international and Ghanaian artists and craftspeople to collaborate on specific goals. This could be arranged on both a one to one basis and within a workshop setting. For this August, Aba had conceived the challenge of designing furniture made of clay.

I did not make the decision to go to Ghana lightly. Traveling to Africa for most Americans is a momentous decision on many levels. I had set very specific goals which could only be achieved by being willing to risk the physical and psychological discomfort intrinsic in traversing a culture very different from my own. I was searching for a path leading to creative and spiritual renewal in my own work as a sculptor. I was interested in working and collaborating with artists who approach the art making process very differently than we do in the West. I wanted to test whether my belief that art is a universal and powerful language that can be understood by all creative individuals regardless of cultural constructs held true; To settle the question whether art indeed, is the great equalizer. I was interested as well in interacting with other educators from a culture far different from my own; To lean about their educational systems, teaching styles and personal philosophy of teaching and learning. I was also committed to interacting with children and in setting up a cross cultural exchange that would bring our children together through the power of visual literacy.

All of this very serious stuff held my attention during my preparation for the journey. What I did not anticipate was just how tremendously enjoyable my interactions with Ghanaians would be.

I think it important to remember that when traveling we are all ambassadors for our countries. When experiencing a culture that is as exotic and foreign as Ghana is, it’s crucial to be able to laugh with others about our ignorance. In that way we are all open to be educated and enriched. I found the Ghanaians that I interacted with to be wonderful ambassadors and we laughed at our cultural misconceptions until our faces hurt. This helped me through some of the more interesting transitions I needed to make in order to immerse myself in the culture and eventually get some work done.

First there is GMT or Ghana Maybe Time. The pace is much slower than what a New Yorker is used to and punctuality is measured often in days and not in minutes. Then there is the endless bargaining for goods and services which constitutes an important part of the Ghanaian social structure. This can be difficult for Americans to handle-For example, it is customary to walk a visitor to the main road where they can catch the Tro Tro, a cross between a taxi and a bus, back home. Some of us at ABA house followed the custom and accompanied one of the workshop participants the few blocks which at the pace I am used to in New York, should have taken no more than ten minutes. However there was some shopping to be done. It had already been well over an hour's stroll and it was becoming hard for me to experience someone negotiating for an old dead smelly fish for 20 minutes and finding it fun. Finally I stepped in and said, "Listen in the States, if you don't like the price of a fish you don't by the fish- You go somewhere else where they have cheaper less smelly dead fish." The gentleman in question said, "You do not bargain for fish"? I said "No we do not bargain for anything, We do not have time, that is why things actually get accomplished on schedule in America...... Oh, except at a flea market where if there were an old dead smelly fish we might bargain for it.....The fish Woman would say three dollars- We would say one dollar--She would say two dollars We would say fine- get the fish and move on-- Fini-- 60 seconds- And We Are Done!".. Which caused the gentleman to ask "You sell fleas at a market? What is your best price"? You'd have laughed at yourself till your face hurt too!

My experience at Aba house was nothing short of life-changing. Interacting with other artists and educators during the clay workshop, late night discussions around the kiln or collaborating one to one in the moonlit roof top open air studio broadened my definitions of both art and craft. My belief that art is a universal language that transcends cultures held true. I made many new friends in Nungua, and found a true connection with my Ghanaian colleagues in the field of art education. I continue to collaborate with Ghanaian artists, and work with teachers to plan a continued cross cultural visual literacy exchange, through E-mail.

It is my hope to complete the circle by working here in the States on specific clay furniture experiments while the participants in Ghana continue to develop their ideas. We plan to come together next summer to continue the collaborative process.

Barbara J. Allen

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Statement by Marcy Prager, teacher visiting Aba House

Aba House is the people. The people are the spirit of Ghana. At Aba House a visitor is lulled to sleep by the crashing waves of the ocean and the breeze that cools you off, so much so, that you need an extra blanket! You wake to the sounds of roosters and the daily routines of the Ghanaians carrying water on their heads, neighbors cooking breakfast in their courtyard, and goats baaing. And one can't forget the bread lady who comes to the door every morning with freshly baked bread.

As we eat, the day begins. Chuku, Aba's driver, comes bouncing in to ask what she needs that morning. His daily "catch-phrase" is, "Time is money, guy!" Chuku quickly and efficiently does

Aba's errands and collects his "charges" for the day to take them where they desire. For at Aba House, the tours revolve around what YOU want to do. A friend and I wanted to go to a Cocoa Plantation while our other two friends from the U.S. stayed at Aba House for a textile lecture and tie-die demonstration.

As we finish our breakfast, local artists start arriving to share their "hand made" Ghanaian wares. They will soon be displayed in Aba's new gallery. We can't wait to see the new textiles on display, traditional clothes, varieties of drums, thumb pianos, shakers, xylophones, mini-fantasy caskets, pottery, beads, oil paintings, water colors, adinkra notes and cards, wooden turtle lights, clay statues, Akuaba dolls, masks, etc. I bought some cloth which I took one morning to the local dressmaker to make beautiful lined dresses in just one day for a minimal cost. When we ran out of Cedis, (Ghanaian money) which was almost every day, we walked from Aba House to change money at a mini-bank. Then we decided to E-Mail our friends at home with the news of the day at the local "Internet Cafe." (No, it's not a place to eat)!

Upon our return to Aba House that early morning, the local neighborhood children were already busy at work making a new mosaic portion of Aba's backyard wall. The portion I saw them make had a "Save the Earth" theme. Children were constantly busy under the guidance of Master Artist, Laurel True, cutting multi-colored tiles, designing and "mortaring" them to the wall. The children stopped working only for their daily snack of bofoball floats, the most delicious coconut donuts delivered right to Aba's backyard.

Aba's backyard is always so busy! Newly made cloths are being hung to dry, stories are being told to young groups of children, childhood stories of adults are being told and children continue the wall. At least three times during the week I stayed at Aba House, major events took place either in the backyard or in her front yard. Kobbi Klutse, a local store owner, drum maker and Master Puppeteer brought his band to perform for the neighborhood. Watching the children interact with his music and dancing puppet is a treat! As Kobbi dresses up in his traditional mask costume, the children chase him when his back is towards them and they run away when he faces them. When Kobbi eats fire, everyone holds their breath!

On another afternoon, an Asafo flag company has come to perform for the neighborhood, presenting hand made flags to the spectators. Traditional dancers invite spectators, one by one, to dance to the Asafo traditional drumming playing at the other end of the backyard. At the end of the performance, everyone gets up to dance and feel the spirit of the music.

One forgets for a while that "Master Artist" James is still on the second floor, finishing the concrete crocodiles he is making with his apprentice. James took us on a tro-tro, the people's bus. We visited people in their homes, often relatives of the artists. We were always welcomed at a moment's notice. Staying at Aba House allows you to "live" and "feel" Ghana, not just see it from the windows of Chuku's van. The people at Aba House become your friends, best friends.

When staying at Aba House, there is always something to do. One doesn't always need to plan. It just happens. The daily comings and goings of the artists and friends always leads to lengthy conversations that teach you about the spirit and life of Ghana. An artist will always take time out of his/her day to take a visitor somewhere special. They have an everlasting positive effect on newcomers. The Ghanaians I met at Aba House all had positive attitudes, working at least two jobs for very little money. My new Ghanaian friends made this U.S. citizen more cognizant of the world outside of the United States and more grateful for the life I have that I will never again take for granted.

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When I'm introduced to someone, it goes something like this...
"I'd like you to meet Aba. She knows all about Ghana."

And then I'm asked the obvious questions and I try to answer in such a way as to make the person interested in knowing more about Ghana. But the truth is that the more you know, the less you understand. Ghanaians welcome visitors so graciously that you immediately feel included in their lives and are often deluded into thinking you know what's going on, and you do on some level. But there are layers and layers of understanding to peel away. The fact that Ghanaians never approach a subject directly, but get around to the main point only eventually, makes for some interesting cultural clashes... especially with Americans who tend to be very direct.

I'm not sure what it is about Ghana that fascinates me. It's difficult for an American, especially this fairly shy one, to function in a society where the extremes are so emphasized. It is extremely hot, extremely noisy, extremely crowded... the impact of constant movement, bright color and loud talk can make you dizzy. But beneath the chaos is an undercurrent that attracts me. One of the things that I like about Ghanaians is that they have a sense of themselves. Many of their lives are difficult, but they seem to have strength to look beyond and to conjure up plans for a better tomorrow. Their spirit can wait for events to take their course. It's an interesting equation. On the surface there is perceived agitation and and a quick pace, but in reality an African is always waiting. Hurry up and wait is probably the national motto.

Being a spontaneous American, I decided just before the end of one of my trips to buy a piece of land next to the ocean. It took two years to acquire the land. Such a frustratingly long time for me and yet a surprisingly fast deal in African terms. And one thing led to another....I've never had time to write my five year plan. I believe that my program was meant to happen and has taken on a life of it's own. People have come into my life when I needed them and now I have a Ghanaian business partner who runs the center when I'm not in Ghana, a guru who does all the computer stuff that I don't understand, a talented crew of artists in Ghana and many "outside" artists who participate in our workshops and become part of our cultural community. When most of them say, "I'm coming back next year," I know that we're doing something right.

¨ ABA ¨

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The African… proverb? Expression? I'm not sure what to call it, exactly, but it goes like this: A village raises a child. Well, that has hit home for me in my time in Ghana. As a teacher it made sense to me that, all teachers help to raise children - but in different ways than at home. A teacher (or a coach) plays a part in a different realm of a child's life, and therefore helps the child to learn and understand appropriate behaviour, how to act, etc. However, a teacher or coach doesn't take part in the matters that go on at home, as this is what I always perceived as the responsibility of having a child. You talk to others for advice, but in the end it is the parent who teachs the child right from wrong, with the decisions that he or she makes.

Africa is different.

A village raises a child.

So when some parents came to Aba House to discuss their child skipping school and arriving home late, I was expected to discuss this matter with the child as opposed to offering the parents advice with what to do. I was expected to "warm the heart" of the parents, and then take the matter up with the child. Despite the fact that it had nothing to do with me or my work with the child, they were coming to me and inadvertently asking me to step in. So I did. And now I have weekly counselling sessions with the child. Amazing how quickly one becomes the parent - of an adolescent!

At first I was put off by the translation of what I was meant to do. Isn't that the responsibility of becoming a parent? But I came to terms with it: a different culture, where parents discuss these things with everyone except the child. Even a stranger whom they have just come to know upon the meeting about the issues they are having with their child. And then I became a parent. In retrospect of my first reaction, however, it started to make sense, as different people have different influences over a person - be it adult, adolescent, or child - and whatever will make the child grow up into a mature, independent adult, so be it. I guess. I do still wonder why the parents never spoke with the child about the matter - but something that was said along the way has somehow started to send the child back to school each day, so…

Ghanaian culture has proven difficult to understand, as most things that are spoken are spoken in proverbs, but many things are not spoken at all. There is a lot of ssssting that goes on to get the attention of someone, but to avoid attracting the attention of others, and a number of actions mean a variety of different things; again, to detract from others' attention. There is a lot of talk of "armed robbers" and lying and deceitfulness, that I have difficulty keeping up with - and it's harder to understand what's going on with all of these secrets being kept. Learning through experience is definitely the way here - which, don't get me wrong, I definitely feel is a good thing, but coming from the United States culture of spoken word, it just takes a lot more effort and work to understand.

Ghana at 50 came and went. There was a huge Independence Day celebration in Accra, with loads of diplomats and VIPs from various countries coming for the festivities. Miriam, a woman from California had been hired, in conjunction with a very large number of Ghanaians, to organise the Independence Day concert at Labatty Beach, and she stayed at Aba House; therefore I was awarded a free ticket to attend. Some big-name talented Ghanaian artists (Tic Tac, Rocky, Batman) performed at the event - which was meant to start at 12noon. But in true African time (or, as they call it here, GMT: Ghana Maybe Time) the first act started up around 3:30 in the afternoon. The greatest part about the whole late-ness of the afternoon was, the staff planning the concert had decided that it would in fact start on time, and be finished by 6pm, and therefore hiring a lighting set would be unnecessary. Alas, the concert was finished around 9pm, an was a truly wonderful event despite the fact that you could not see much after 7pm. It was a tremendous event for Ghana, with BBC and a number of other television, radios and newspapers from all over the world to film and report on it.

One thing that was different was also reminiscent of Namibia, regarding Independence Day. In the United States, each and every village, town and city has a celebration - if not many - every year for the Fourth of July. I am not sure why this isn't true in Namibia and in Ghana - maybe in other parts of Africa as well, but on that I can't comment. There is the major celebration in the city. In Accra, there was the marching ceremony at Independence Square, and there was the concert just maybe ten kilometres outside, and that was it. The community of Nungua, if they didn't not travel into Accra for the festivities, then they sat at home and watched it on television. Some of the youth went out at night, but there were no parades or celebrations or marching or anything to celebrate the major feat of fifty years of being an independent nation. Why?

In preparation for the Independence Day concert, both Miriam and Barbara, came to stay at Aba House, both from California. Barbara is about my age, and had volunteered in Ghana for a few months last year, and often went out for drinks with her friends. One of these nights she invited me to join her, and it was then that I came into contact with the extensive nightlife of Ghana - alive and kicking! Accra is a fun city if you know where you're going, and there are a number of clubs, bars and lounges suited for anyone's desires. Thanks to Barbara, I've made some friends and have had the chance to go out with people my own age who share similar interests and have good conversation. It took me many months to make real friends in Mariental, and I've made some good ones here which is just very nice.

My "cousin" Mike from Namibia was here, as I mentioned in my last email, and the night that he left I gathered Enock, one of the older boys - sixteen years of age - that I work with here at Aba House, and we travelled in Accra to meet Mike. It was an adventure getting there: we had all of his stuff, and used to tro-tro (small bus/public transport) system to get there. Mike didn't have a phone, and neither of us had been to our meeting place, but miraculously it worked (not that I was at all surprised; everything seems to work out here, no matter what. Luckily time is not of great importance, however) and the three of us got some food before heading over to the airport.

Enock had never been to the airport before, so we went to the domestic part and watched planes take off and land for a while. As I was on a plane at the ripe old age of six weeks for the first time, and certainly have been on many since then, I forget what a novelty airplanes are. Enock was ecstatic at having the opportunity to watch these planes, the little cars that ride around, the people boarding and disembarking. We stayed until security kicked us out, well after dark, and then Mike went to check in. Enock is a sweet boy, but turning into the "punk" that most sixteen-year-olds become - part of the reason that I love working with kids of this age. But while we were waiting for Mike to come back out and say goodbye, to make sure he was able to check in okay, Enock turned into that little boy that he used to be, blubbering on incessantly about the planes and the people getting on and off them, asking millions of questions about what it was like to be in a plane - where does the food come from? How do you get water? Where are the bags? - and dreams of being in one or even flying one. It was just such a spectacular time, listening to him gush about this newfound love - and he slept in the taxi on the way home, dreaming about flying, I'm sure.

I had to buy tampons. These are not cheap, nor are they easy to find. You can find a gazillion sanitary napkins (Aussies say "fanny packs"), but very few tampons. Finally I found some in Osu, the area of Accra where the diplomats live, and where you can find ice cream and iced coffee regularly, as well as mozzarella cheese and pretzels. I stepped into a pharmacy and looked around, finally finding some on a shelf in the back, but without a price on them. I grabbed a box and went up to the counter, intending to ask how much the box would cost me without being too culturally inappropriate. I found a young woman at the cash register, assisting a young man while he was paying for his things. After he left I put the box on the counter and asked, as sweetly and innocently and appropriately as possible (whatever that means!), "How much does this box cost, please?" I smiled sweetly. She stared at me for about a minute (oh, shit - I thought), and then made a short grunting noise and pointed toward the crotch of her trousers. It was then my turn to look at her for a minute. She probably thought the same thing I had thought a minute before. Then I tried repeating my question, using different words to phrase it differently, the words of my Professor Keith from the University of Rhode Island's Exercise Science Department (though unfortunately she is no longer there) running through my mind: If someone doesn't understand you, you must say it differently.

To my gratification, she smiled and explained that she had thought I had asked what they are used for. Oh-ho! Cultural misunderstanding (or was it just a communication error?) at its' best, and I was trying to be so appropriate! She giggled, rang it up, gave me the price, and I went back for more. Job finished. Well done - sort of. :)

In January, five of the boys cooked a meal for the three inhabitant volunteers at Aba House, myself included. It was very nice, and they did a spectacular job. I went to the market with them and they picked out what they needed, and then we came back to the house and they cooked. In exchange, a few weeks ago I cooked them pizza. I got mozzarella cheese in Accra (Osu), cheese being something most of them had never tried before, and in the morning I took a trip to the market with the five boys. What an ordeal it was! The entire excursion took a good few hours, trying to find everything, keep the boys appeased, and convince them that although I had never used some ingredients before, it would be fine. Everything has a singular use here, it seems, and deviation from the norm is a serious excursion in itself.

On our adventure to the market, the boys taught me various words in their language for different foods. Akuadu is plantain, for instance. They asked me how Namibians would say it, and then I became the good Peace Corps Volunteer from Namibia, completing a goal of Peace Corps that I believe doesn't even exist: Sharing Namibian culture with Ghanaians! In Afrikaans, bietjie means small, pronounced "bee-kee". A simple tjie ("kee") added to the end of a word gives it the impression of being small. For instance, a very popular mix of English and Afrikaans comes in the word thingitjie, meaning small thing. You could say, This thingitjie is confusing me, meaning I don't understand this small thing.

So on our walk at the market, we came upon a bunch of small plantains, and Micheal asked me what they would be called in Namibia. Now, I don't recall ever having seen plantains in Namibia - it's entirely possible that they existed there, but I never learned a word for them in any language. So I told him the Namibian word would be akuadutjie. It took a minute for the word to settle in, and for Micheal to realise that it was so similar to his own word, and burst out laughing. Then I went back and explained what I have just explained above.

Every language that I learn about or study leaves me with a few words that I keep in my regular vocabulary - for instance, bietjie. In Namibia I learned a few key words and phrases of Khoekhoegowab (one of my favourites being, Kiss me, let me die), and a very popular word that is used by many is /na, meaning good or fine. How are you? /Na.

When I was student teaching at Ashaway Elementary School in Rhode Island, my phenomenal cooperating teacher, Kelly Gordon, had a poster of different words for good, such as spectacular, fabulous, wonderful, etc. The point was to use different words to help increase the vocabulary of the children, as well as give you other words to use instead of continuously saying, Nice work, Great job. So that fall I made an effort to use different words, and have continued that since then. On occasion (maybe more often than not), I probably sound quite facetious, but I'm really not trying to be.

As a result of these attempts, I took the words with me to Namibia, and used them with my kids there - an even greater task, as English was not a first language. Then I came to Ghana. Now, in Africa, you always greet everyone, and it is very insulting not to (I learned the hard way, in the United States, luckily for me prior to coming here). But the greeting, whether in English or another languages, translates most directly to, How are you? I am fine. So, as you can imagine, when you greet twenty people in the course of a morning and everyone is doing fine, it gets a little tiring. Not tiring - boring. So when I started asking the children at Aba House how they were, and they would tell me, Fine, I would say, That's all? Hence we started coming up with others words. Now I hear that school was excellent, they slept fantastic, and their health is outstanding. So on top of teaching them other words in English, I taught them the favoured /na of Namibia. The clicks are hard to learn if you have never heard them, and even harder if you will not hear them regularly ever again, so often with my Ghanaian children try to tell me that they are /na, they sound like they are blowing a loud, grandmother-like kiss in the air, mooah, as opposed to the light click that occurs from just behind the teeth, as one might make a tsk tsk sound. So every now and then I hear that they are feeling mooah and that their painting is looking mooah. Oh, my Nama teacher, the Beautiful Lucas, would be proud.

In Namibia many a Peace Corps Volunteer does not feel well from time to time, and often consults the Peace Corps-issued Where There Is No Doctor, a wonderful book that tells you every possible symptom for every possible disease known to mankind, and how to treat it, allowing hours upon hours of wonderment over what your headache could really mean. Usually it's a simple lack of water in the desert heat, but you could spend hours upon hours, night after night with nothing better to do, paging through determining what the best cure is for that miniscule scratch you got on your wrist from the thorn bush next to your door. And when you are lacking companionship or a person to talk to (aside from the walls), Where There Is No Doctor is also an exemplatory learning tool where you can learn to deliver a baby and possibly even cut off a body part if necessary (I may be exaggerating here; I can't remember if I ever read about cutting off limbs).

So when Miriam arrived from California, she brought with her the Ghanaian Yellow Pages, a book of white pages with every possible business in Ghana. This has provided me with hours worth of ideas, places to go, things to do - and has told me where I can do just about anything that I needed to while in Ghana. Incredible! Why they are called the Yellow Pages, please do not ask. But it clearly states that as the title of the inch-and-a-half thick book. Very informative.

Now, Ghana sometimes reminds me of Vermont in the case of street names. It was not until 1999 that Vermont enacted 911, and then every street had to have a name. Some already had names, but no signs, and so signs were erected and streets were named if necessary. My personal favourite is Chicken Farm Road in East Corinth. Indeed, there is a chicken farm on that road.

So here in Ghana there are street names for most of the roads - I believe - but finding a sign is trying, and I don't think anyone knows the names anyway. When one refers to "the main road" in Nungua, they could easily mean one of two different roads - the one that runs parallel to the beach, or the one that leads to Accra. Therefore, when an address is given, there are usually a number of land markers that are used in an effort to assist those in finding a place. So one night I went through and found a few that I found particularly enjoyable. At the time I was looking for a place in which to replace a mouse for one of the laptop computers that was donated, so you'll see a pattern of the types of stores I was searching through.

Aftech Computer Selections: Near Alatia Bus Stop.

Adepa Computer Accessories: Behind Frankies, opposite Standard Charter Bank, Osu.

Bytes Tech Ltd: Kojo Thompson Road, opposite Engen Filling Station, Adabraka.

Hitech Business Service Ltd: Near Makola Market.

House Party Computer Plus: Inside H.P. Building, Accra New Town, near SG-SSB (what in the world is SG-SSB?!).

K. Eriteh Systems: Behind Busy Internet. (Then you look up Busy Internet: Next to Barnetts Furnishers.)

And as a result of the address debacle, Martha, a Ghanaian woman, came to visit Aba House one evening. She took a taxi to Nungua, then started asking people where it was. No one seemed to be of help, and it took her quite a while to find the front entrance of the house. Unfortunately for her, she arrived at night and did not see the bell - and the back entrance is the one that's unlocked and allows easy access. So she called my cell phone. Again, unfortunately for her, she called me on my mobile phone, but it is a mobile phone and I was mobile at the time. So the directions I gave her were as follows: Face the front of the house. Walk to your left until you get to the lower fence, and climb over it. Go under the trees until you get to another fence on your right that is low enough to climb over, and climb over that. Follow the cement fence until you reach a wooden door, and push. Harder.
Akwaaba to Aba House!

Growing up in Vermont, our forty-five minute drive to school each day was kind of a pain, but normal. When I attended university in Rhode Island, driving that forty-five minutes to Providence was a seriously thought-about trip. In Namibia, taking a two-and-a-half hour drive to Windhoek was not so bad - we considered ourselves living close to the capital. In Ghana, making the thirty-minute (with no traffic, mind you) trip into Accra is something to think about. Funny how close and proximity are such relative terms.

And thus is my life here. It is a nice, relaxing life. Today is a Saturday, with plans for kite-making with the children, and then taking them to the beach to see them fly.

D:)

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Aba House: A Cross-Cultural Collaborative
Report of Activities, 24 March 2007

Two volunteers, visiting Aba House from the United Kingdom and the United States, participated in the children’s activities taking place at Aba House during the months of February and March. The following activities occurred:

Art activities. Informal activities have included but are not limited to: drawing, painting, weaving with recycled goods ("black rubbers" or plastic bags), and crocheting purses and other objects. In celebration of Ghana at 50, the children painted flags to use for their school’s ceremonies, as well as to decorate Aba House. One of the children painted a door on the deck, to go along with the others that have already been decorated from their original blue colour.

Book making. Activities have been continued from the previous month, and to date all of the paper made during 2006 has been finished. Journals have been transported with various volunteers to be sold abroad, mostly in the United States, with profits going to support Aba House. The children involved in the creation of these beautiful journals are being paid by the hour, with a small price in cedis, some "trade" of goods (again from generous donors), and a "bank" toward school supplies, etc, in September.

Computer literacy. Use of the two generously donated laptop computers have seen a great deal of use during the course of the past month, and donors have graciously sent CDs so the children may listen to music while working. 32 hours have been logged by children between the ages of 10 and 16 since the last reporting period.

Cooking and preparing food. In exchange for the preparation that occurred during the last reporting period, the volunteers worked with five of the older children to buy for, prepare and consume pizza, complete with toppings and cheese purchased from Osu, Accra.

English language skills. All has been informal, but with the volunteers all being native English-speakers, the rule of "English only" has been enforced. Children have been asked to leave Aba House for the day if they fail to follow the rule.

Lending library. The lending library continues and seems to be working exceptionally well. The visitors to the library know the rules and do not return for another book unless they have their original book to exchange. Magazines have been sorted through and some have been added to the collage box based on the shape they are in, and 51 have been registered in the library’s shelves, to be looked at strictly in the confines of Aba House. Adult literature and reference books will be inventoried and set up in a similar fashion in the near future.

Life skills. Informal education about respecting other and their personal space has been continued, mainly in the form of verbal and physical respect. The "no hitting" rule has not come up at all in the past month. Informal conversations have continued in regards to various life skills and learning. Two of the children have started coming for regular private "counselling" sessions, to discuss issues that come about due to school, home, church, etc.

Literacy. Reading and writing has continued, and starting in the next reporting period will be focused on in greater detail. One of Nungua’s local shops has agreed to trade the broken keyboard for a metal plate which is now being used for the alphabet and word magnets – a popular form of writing with the children. A "points" system has been established for the children, similar to that used with the books except without the pay in cedis. Instead children receive "trading points" in exchange for various creative writing activities, the typing of their stories, and eventually the illustration of favourites for each child. Activity money will go toward the printing of these stories, as unfortunately the printer that was donated blew a fuse.

Mosaics. As continued from the previous reporting period, three of the older children have just completed the four-section wall mosaic at a private residence in Nungua Estates. They did a truly spectacular job, and are extremely proud of their work.

School assistance and support. Children continue to bring their homework to Aba House for assistance, mainly in Mathematics, English, and Science, with various drills. The two coming to Aba House for the "counselling" sessions often bring their work with them for more in-depth discussions.

Cross-cultural exchange. On the part of both the Ghanaian children and the adult volunteers, learning has continued, distinguishing Ghana from other countries. This has come in terms of speech, language, customs and traditions, and has been thoroughly enjoyed by all.

Activities have been profitable by all involved, children ranging in age from three to sixteen. The above-mentioned activities will be continued through May of 2007, and hopefully beyond, depending on when volunteers come to work at Aba House.

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Leah and Eric in Ghana...

... and in New Hampshire, with a Lobster

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Leslie where did you go? I think to the roof with the birds
to get a better view
to look down
to make sure we still light your candles
the crows wear white T-shirts
you are in your favorite African dress

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First exhibited at the Bromfield Gallery in Boston

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This summer I led a group of Barnard College students on a trip to Ghana. During my acclimation time I was able to spend a few days immersing myself in traditional Ghanaian textile production at Aba House in Ghana with my friends, Tessie and Ani.

Aba House is the Ghanaian home of Cross Cultural Collaborative, a non-profit that works with children in Nungua, a village suburb of Accra. "Aba" is Ellie, a former art teacher from Boston who has lived in Ghana on and off for over 30 years.

Aba House serves as a guest house and before/after school program for local children. Aba develops art projects based in recyclable materials that she hopes will give the children usable skills as well as help with Ghana's considerable problem with litter.

Most recently, the children have been learning to make paper, which as I saw in the National Museum, is an ancient skill in this region. From this paper they make and decorate small books for sale.

The first floor of the house has a small children's lending library, a gallery/craft shop and guest rooms. From morning until dinner time, children from the village come by, borrow and return books, soak fibers for paper, draw, read and horse around. Few families actually own books, so to be able to hold a book and take it home is a very exciting opportunity.

Unfortunately, more boys than girls take advantage of Aba House as girls are often sent to help sell in the market or kept home to help their mothers.

Proceeds from their projects go to running the children's part of Aba House and to pay school fees. Although public education is free in Ghana, there are fees for school supplies, uniforms and exams and shoes are required. This adds up to about $60.00 a year- a huge amount in a country in which most people live on about $2.00 per day.

As an arts professional, Aba is very in tune with local artists and we had the privilege of meeting Ghanaian sculptors, batik makers and other artists while taking classes. I was also able with my students to visit the Artists Alliance, one of the premier art galleries in Ghana. While creating textiles would be considered a craft here, textile arts are the earliest arts in Ghana. As Professor Ablade Glover told my students, this traditional art "must perform". That is, it must play a function in everyday life. He says that when foreigners see a beautiful piece of cloth, we admire its beauty and perhaps think about how it would look hanging in our house; however, Ghanaians see "a piece a clothing for a special occasion." Thus objects always have a spiritual element, or as Professor Glover declares, the "patina-or touch- of the human soul." More mundanely, this would explain why I sometimes had a frustrating time buying fabric in the market- sellers would say, "why do you want such a small piece? You can't make anything (i.e. clothing) out of it."

Cloth has a significant commemorative function for Ghanaians: special occasions are often marked with the creation of special fabric. Most organizations have their own fabric and for every Ghanaian the colors and designs of mourning fabrics tell the story of both the deceased and the mourners relationship to him or her.

The Ashanti region of Ghana is renowned for all types of traditional arts. During the ascendancy of the Ashanti Kingdom, the Ashanti king established a series of villages devoted to crafts-beadmaking, Adinkra, Kente, goldsmithing and others- around the city of Kumasi, the seat of royal power. These artisans provided the king's family and retainers with all the material objects needed to live in royal style.

Adinkra originally meant "farewell" or "goodbye" and so Adinkra pieces are most often worn during times of mourning and or departure. My Adinkra teacher, David Boamah, lives in Ntonso, the village dedicated to the production of Adinkra cloth. David's family has a long tradition of producing Adinkra and David learned the tradition in his youth from his grandfather, a noted maker of Adinkra stamps. Although he had not intended to become a master of Adinkra, when his grandfather died, David decided to devote himself to it because he saw the traditional art being lost to more profitable arts such as silk-screening. David himself specializes in both Kente and Adinkra. He says that many young children want to learn Kente because it is very lucrative, but fewer are interested in Adinkra. Sadly, many traditional techniques (which tend to be very labor-intensive) hold little interest for the newer generations. He is very proud of his heritage and keen to pass his knowledge on to others.

Although I have always thought of Adinkra as the symbolic language of the Akan peoples, David explained that for him "Adinkra" is not simply the symbols, but also the cloth, the ink and the calabash stamps that are brought together to create a printed piece. Often Adinkra pieces are dyed and then stamped or embroidered: traditionally women made the ink and dyed cloth while only men stamped. David himself does all facets of the work. He begins with a length of "calico" (muslin to us) spread over a table with a thin sheet of foam tied over it. (Traditionally Adinkra makers spread the cloth on the ground, but the foam enables a clearer stamp). Once a week, David travels further north in Ghana to buy the bark from the "Badie" tree which he then boils in an iron pot down to a dark brown permanent ink which is kept hot the entire time the fabric is stamped.

Traditional Adinkra stamps are made of calabash shells (in this case by his cousin) and thus are slightly curved with 3" sticks put into them for handles. Before class, David laid out almost 100 stamps in a beautiful display of stamps that ranged in color from very light tan to dark brown depending on how many times they had been used.

In addition to the stamps, he used a comb with 5 teeth to make divisions in the fabric. Although David made it look very easy, using the comb and the stamp take a steady hand (both to shake off excess ink and to make a clear impression.) The comb has to be held at a very specific angle to control the flow of ink off from the teeth and has to be lifted off the cloth very carefully to avoid smudging. To use the stamps effectively, you had to stamp with a slight rolling motion to get the entire symbol. The best Adinkra has sharp outlines with an attractive arrangement of symbols. During the day long class we made three one yard pieces. For the first piece David chose the design and worked with us closely, then he had us make our own piece under his watchful eye.

It was here that I could truly appreciate his level of skill: he doesn't use a ruler or mark the design beforehand, which means that we had to hold the comb properly AND draw straight lines. He seemed almost psychic in his ability to anticipate when we were in trouble (even when he was talking to someone else!). Like calligraphy or other arts that depend on a steady hand, you have to get into a meditative state- I found this hard to do because I was curious about the market vendors, visitors, children and roosters who came in the front gate by our class.

David then announced that the three of us had to make a piece collaboratively-pick the design and implement it with an equal division of labor. Luckily, I was with good friends, so we had a great time deciding on which stamps to use and an overall design.

We then had 2 days of classes on batik and tie-dye with "tie and dye" man Sammy Asare, who is from the Volta Region. Sammy makes his own batik designs, but also makes pieces for schools, church groups and for special occasions. Almost all of the cottons sold in Ghana are silk-screened and made in China, England or the Netherlands, but batik is still made in small "factories" throughout Ghana.

Sammy does simply beautiful work and, like David, was very patient and amused by us. Ghanaian teaching consists mostly of rote memorization and repetition, so it has taken some of the art teachers time to get used to the give and take exchange Americans are used to. You could see Sammy in particular trying very hard to let us be creative. I asked him if I could use the calabash stamps I bought from David for the batik stamping and he first said "no": then he said that if it didn't melt I should be able to use it, but that I should try it on my fabric only!

Batik is a process of wax resist: first one stamps and then dyes cotton to create the desired effect. As with Adinkra, we started with a foam covered table and one yard of muslin: however, in this case the stamps are made from thick chunks of foam (almost the thickness of upholstery foam) into which are carved designs, including Adinkra symbols.

Next to the table is a pot of wax on a charcoal fire that has to be kept at a constant temperature. Most batik makers use vat and reactive dyes imported from the US or the UK and bleached calico. We worked with small pieces (up to one yard) but Ghanaians make fabrics in a 12 yard "piece" or 6 yard ½ piece."

Again, using the stamps properly obviously takes a lot of practice. You dip the foam stamps half way into the hot wax, shake off the excess and then make several impressions on the cloth. Writing it this way makes it sound easy, but there are a lot of opportunities to burn yourself and it takes a sure touch to leave an absolutely clear impression that soaks through to the other side of the fabric.

Sammy warned us that vat dye will always "overpower" reactive dye, so we always start with vat dye. After each dye bath, the fabric is spread on the ground to dry in the sun. Once dry, the fabric goes through several washes. During a wash in almost boiling water, you dip a stick into the corner of the cloth and then twist it on the stick while dipping it in and out of the hot water. This is every bit as difficult as it sounds and is done with the 12 yard pieces as well. Ghanaians don't waste anything, so the wax that washes off the finished pieces is saved and used many times. Although we mostly worked with the foam stamps, Sammy also demonstrated "stamping" with bound twigs and dripped wax.

In tie and dye we used string and sticks to bind folded fabric. We first learned folding and using diagonal and straight folds, to get our yard pieces down to pieces that are about 6 " square. We then tied the fabric tightly between two pieces of wood, which keeps the dye from soaking through the folds and leaves a nice repetitive design. I mentioned to Sammy that it must be difficult to tie the large 12 yard pieces. He said "yes" and then told me "you couldn't do it".

Another technique is called tritkit which involves stitching a pattern with very thick string and then gathering it tightly so that the stitches resist the dye. This leaves a delicate design that is quite beautiful. Although I saw many of the techniques that we were taught in market batiks, I never saw a piece of tritkit and am not sure where or how people use it.

We came out of our 3 days of classes with lovely examples of a range of traditional textile techniques. Although as a quilter I always appreciate beautiful fabric, these classes gave me an even greater appreciation for the skill, the history and the human touch embedded in the beautiful textiles of Ghana.

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A DAY IN THE LIFE

Every day at Aba House (below) is an adventure. I had decided last spring that a trip to Ghana with a stay at the Cross Cultural Collaborative – familiarly known as Aba House – outside of the capital of Accra would be interesting. I was not aware, however, of the wealth of experiences I would have there. Aba House offers the opportunity to live in a local community in order to meet Ghanaians in the immediate neighborhood as well as those who are invited to make presentations and display their art work. At 3 a.m., a rooster announces the beginning of each day (I always thought roosters crowed at dawn but Ghanaian roosters seem to be on their own schedule). Breakfast comprises a welcome spread of fresh fruit (oh, that pineapple!), good bread, hardboiled eggs, Aba's secret blend of delicious coffee (think Dunkin' Donuts) and jars of local groundnut (aka for westerners — peanut butter).

The day's activities vary widely and can include visits to weaving, bead or brassmaking villages, museums — in Accra and elsewhere, Cape Coast and Elmina castles, Kakum National Forest with its Canopy Walk, and, of course, the enormous, dense, thriving markets in Accra and Kumasi. Back at Aba House, artistic opportunities occur frequently. Exhibitions of drumming, puppet, and fireeating; demonstrations of batik or tie-and-dye procedures; lectures on Ghanaian textiles; storytelling activities — these are just a few of the offerings by people who are invited or who just drop by.

As darkness falls — by 6 p.m. in Ghana year ‘round — the busy days end with excellent suppers prepared by Talk True, chef par excellence. The Ghanaian "red-red" (red beans with red palm oil, rice and plantains) is absolutely addictive. Occasional trips to the Blue-Blue for bottles of Star Beer can further enliven the taste buds and the dinner table conversation. An evening might then include a walk to the nearest internet café on the main road in Nungua or dancing to music at one of the local "clubs" — open air collections of tables and dancers, of tables and dancers, but it always ends with laughter around the big table in the main room with the beautiful — albeit cushionless (ouch!) — cane chairs. Finally, the new gallery at Aba House is always available; local artisans regularly replenish it with imaginative craft items. One needs to have a supply of cedis (the currency of Ghana) or dollars ready because the items disappear almost as quickly as they are delivered.

The summer's adventure was incomparable. No other tour can offer the combination of camaraderie with artistic and cultural experiences provided by Aba House and Aba Tours. We all exchanged e-mail addresses, which will make staying in touch relatively easy, and we promised ourselves reunions, either in our home cities (we had a significant number this year from the Boston area) or by returning soon to Ghana.

Anne Serafin - Newtonville, Massachusetts

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Despite the long journey from Australia, I have stayed at Aba House as a volunteer many times and I just loved, loved, loved my extended periods there. For a textile lover, Ghana is paradise.

I got to experience firsthand how the gloriously beautiful adinkra and kente cloths are made. Aba House was always abuzz with artists generously sharing their expertise and knowledge. At the main Arts markets in Accra, I swooned over stunning mud cloths, leather bags, carvings (my favourite were the carved combs), jewellery and other handmade treasures. Makola Market, a magnificently crazy place, is not to be missed; chatting with the cheeky women as they perch on top of bolts of tie dye and batik cloths in their miniature booths. I have spent time in tiny dark rooms in Nima, where traders present one gorgeous antique kente after another.

But a visit to Ghana is much, much more. There is dance, drumming, song and stories. There is a complex culture that intrigues and stretches understanding. There is friendliness, warmth and generosity. There is GMT- not Greenwich Mean Time, but Ghana Maybe Time, a pace one invariably slips into. There is so much to discover: the bead market at Odumasi, the fantasy coffins, The Slave Castles, trou trou rides, waiting for the village fishing boats to come in, road side stalls with their fascinating names. I could go on.

For me, however, it’s always been about the kids who visit Aba House. These shiny kids that bring joy, creativity and enthusiasm. An absolute highlight of one of my trips was when about 20 children, of various ages, spontaneously bandied together and put on a play in my honour. They chalked their faces for makeup, found buckets for drums and cloths for costumes. My Ghana visits are consistently special. I always want to bundle up all the sensations and take it all home with me, which of course I can’t. So, when I am there, I continually remind myself "Drink it in, Marta, drink it all in".

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Teaching in Ghana in the early years of the Peace Corps

American President John F. Kennedy created the Peace Corps in 1961 and Ghanaian President Kwame Nkrumah immediately invited Peace Corps volunteers to Ghana. In the early 1960s most volunteers in Ghana were teachers in the newly established secondary schools (high schools) funded by the Ghana Educational Trust (GET). This significant expansion of eduction was one of President Nkrumah’s major accomplishments, giving ethnic groups throughout the country a new access to higher education. There are at least 23 GET schools, built quickly from the same architectural plans and thus easily recognizable. The schools were placed throughout the country, from Navrongo in the north to the established cities of Kumasi and Accra, and on to Tema in the east and Half Assini in the west. The Peace Corps provided essential faculty in maths, science, and, briefly, in French over at least ten years.

In 1963 I graduated from college and joined a group of fifty volunteers. I was the first and only female and only French teacher at Asankrangwa Secondary School, now called Asanco. The school was opened by President Nkrumah in 1961. When I arrived the school had four forms (levels) of the five that was the normal full curriculum. The staff included another Peace Corps teacher, a man teaching maths, a dozen Ghanaian teachers, and a Ghanaian headmaster. Our student population was about 350 and most were boys. Asanco was a boarding school built on a hill just outside of the town of Asankrangwa. All students and most teachers and several other employees lived on the campus. There was electricity for about two hours in the morning and two hours at night. There was limited running water. We were careful in our use of these precious resources.

Girls were admitted to the school for the first time in 1963. Twelve enrolled and I was placed in charge of the girls’ dormitory and organizing their program. The dormitory was one room with one bathroom on the second floor of the administration block, directly over the headmaster’s office. I lived in a comfortable two bedroom house immediately in front of the administration block about 150 feet away.

The setting was new to both the girls and me. We all had to learn how to organize and live and learn. The girls were very polite and studious and eager to do all that was expected of them. One early issue was their difficulty in understanding my American accent in English. They were often too polite to tell me they didn’t understand me. I had difficulty understanding their English, too. We often had to repeat what we had said. We all worked on that and learned to laugh about our struggles.

School life and the curriculum were organized following a British model since Ghana had been a British colony for almost 60 years. A rigid schedule was monitored by hard working student prefects. School uniforms were important and had to be worn at all times. One of my early tasks was to select material for the girls’ classroom dresses. I failed to get enough advice and selected a material that the girls didn’t like at all. They said it looked like “dead white people’s clothing,” a real condemnation.

With guidance I found an acceptable material and then searched for a way to have two dresses made for each girl. I was most fortunate that the local chief’s wife was a seamstress and had a thriving business operated from the chief’s palace. The girls and I walked into town to the palace for measurements and fittings as their dresses were made. The welcome outcome was not only acceptable uniforms but also my friendship with the chief’s wife that continues today.

In my first year, I taught a daily French class to all of the students, forms one through four. In my second year I taught forms two through five and a Ghanaian teacher taught French in Form one. Our textbooks were from England and contained many stories and illustrations that were difficult for students to understand. This slowed our progress. I taught the fifth form during my second year and prepared the students to take the Cambridge “O” (Ordinary) exam in French.

The Asanco campus was lively yet disciplined. Students couldn’t leave the campus without special permission. They wore school uniforms at all times. There were different uniforms for the classroom, afternoon free time, evening study time, and Sundays. The student schedule was breakfast and classes in the morning, lunch, an hour’s siesta, free time that might include sports practice in the afternoon, bathing and classroom dress for dinner and study and homework in classrooms after dinner until bedtime. Lights out at 10pm.

Students were studious but also playful and good natured. I welcomed them to my house for afternoon activities including singing in French and cooking local specialities. I coached the girls’ netball team. Everyone played. They taught me how to make groundnut stew. When carpenter ants invaded my house, they showed me how to set a column of ants on fire to turn them away. I often invited one or two girls to accompany me into town to shop. I shared a jeep with the other PCV and drove sick students to the small hospital in town that was run by Catholic nuns. Malaria was a constant. One student had an appendectomy. More girls enrolled for my second year and we expanded the dormitory space. Over two years I saw girls gain confidence in themselves and new ideas for their future. Our lives were busy and rewarding.

When I returned to visit the school after a thirty year gap, I was thrilled to see six of the girls that I had known as students. They had competed their high school education. One had graduated from the University of Ghana. They had productive lives and seemed happy. Over a ten year period my husband and I visited three times and took our adult children on one visit. It was thrilling to show my family how my Ghanaian town, school, and students had prospered. I’ve since written a work of historical fiction about the life of a chief and children of a small town in Ghana. The setting is historical but I learned about the culture as a Peace Corps volunteer. The experience enriched my life immeasurably.

The Ghanaian educational program has changed and now the curriculum reflects its west African setting and includes classes on the use of computers. Asanco has grown to almost 1,000 students. There are many additional buildings. There is an elementary school on the campus for the children of the faculty and other employees. The campus is well maintained. Asanco students come from many regions of Ghana. The school gives them an opportunity to meet peers from throughout the country. I believe that the widespread availability of high school education and thus access to good jobs has helped Ghana remain stable.

Asanco is located in the area of the Akan culture which welcomes strangers. I always felt welcome and respected. Such reception was extended to the Peace Corps Director, Sargent Shriver, when he visited the town and the school in early 1963. Photos of him dancing with elders in the chief’s palace appear in the National Geographic magazine. The chief gave Shriver a leopard skin, the symbol of authority, to give to President Kennedy. When I first visited the palace I saw a framed letter to the chief from President Kennedy thanking him for the gift. The entire town mourned President Kennedy’s death a short time later.

As my Peace Corps group prepared to leave Ghana after our two years of service, President Nkrumah invited us to his home in Accra to thank us and bid us farewell. As I shook his hand, I felt the reward of my opportunity for personal growth due to his investment in education for Ghanaians.

Dorothy Brown Soper
Peace Corps Volunteer
Ghana 1963-65

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