Bonjour, tout le monde!

Hello everyone, from the land where old Peugeots go to die. Seriously, the auto mechanics of the Sahel could definitely have quite a showdown with the Cubans in a keep-the-POS-car-running contest. Thanks in part to them, we successfully crossed the border today from Benin to Niger--an amazing sight as far as borders go--and a few things have changed. One of us has learned to stumble along in French; one of us is now a year older and wiser. There's plenty to write, and we promise we will. But after a while in the middle of miles and miles of dry dusty bush, we just wanted to let everyone know that we're back and we're fine.

Adaptations

After one month, I've discovered that some of my tastes have dramatically changed. Here's a Top-5 list of things I never liked before but now do. Those of you who know me well will understand this as evidence of the lengths to which the human spirit will go to adapt to new circumstances:

(5) Chocolate and Chocolate Cookies

So ubiquitous. So non-mysterious. So cheap. The bang for the buck, calorically-speaking, is much appreciated.

(4) Shpants

Okay, technically, I suppose they're more like capri pants, but whatever. Long enough to be modest, short enough to clear the dirt, fitted enough to avoid snaggable objects. Brilliant. My new favorite item of clothing.

(3) Sidewalks

At home in College Terrace, they gave me claustrophobia; here they make me want to weep with joy. See CLA's latest post, but by any objective measure, Ghanaians are in the running for worst drivers in the world. The further away I can be as a pedestrian, the better.

(2) Soda

Mmmm. So refreshing, so cold. Often easier to find than water. And to top it off, you can feel self-righteous while downing your favorite fizzy product, since distributors recycle glass bottles. In the face of unbelievable amounts of litter--both on the ground and clogging the open sewers--there's a reason to feel good about this newfound vice.

(1) Television

Most of you know that I've been in a long-term, stable, monogamous relationship with the New York Times. But I admit it; I'm having an affair. Without easy internet access to papers and the blogosphere, I've come to treasure the occasional half-hour of CNN in Ghana TV's lineup. Yes, me, who has chanted "CNN is not the news" at rallies. Sigh. I'm not proud.

But in my defense, I believe that one can learn from GTV, even with its unpredictable and violent volume swings. For one thing, Ghana has nailed the song-and-dance Public Service Announcement. Currently, there's one about why we should all celebrate the 50th anniversary of independence. Think karaoke bouncing ball, an upbeat west african melody, a macarena-style dance....Another one addresses the upcoming currency change (knocking off 4 zeros in June), reassuring people that they won't suddenly be destitute. Hear it once, and "there is no change in value; the value is the same" will be in your head for weeks. Now that's effective advertising. I think there could be an amazing showdown between GTV's PSA department and the Bay Area's Mattress Discounters. (I apologize for putting it in your head, but now you know what I'm talking about...) Finally, I have to commend the "Presidential Science Education Initiative," by which snippets of physics, chemistry, and biology lectures are broadcast on GTV. This is nothing like Bill Nye or even Mr. Wizard. This is straight-up balancing equations, converting units, answering questions about the digestive tract...during the hours when the rest of the world is tuning into soap operas.

Still, even if they have their charms (I mean, hello, solving physics problems on national TV?!?), I'm pretty sure none of these fads of mine will last...after all, the human spirit is also ultimately stubborn.

"Are you a missionary?"

Hah! We've now been asked this a few times. Ghanaians laugh and smile a lot, so the giggling "umm, no" has not, thus far, insulted anyone. But we've realized we need a better response. Fortunately, we have an idea. In the past week, there's been more decisive legislative action worldwide surrounding football hooliganism than any other (dare I say "more"?) pertinent issue of our time. Over the years, significant national economic trends have been linked to big matches. In 1969, riots surrounding qualifying matches helped spark the 100-hour "soccer war" between El Salvador and Honduras. Just this past summer, Cote d'Ivoire effectively suspended its civil war to give unified support to its team in the World Cup. All of this leads us to believe that our dear footie has some serious potential. We're planning to write a book in the next few years--"Will Football Save the World?" And in the meantime, we're going to say that we're football missionaries.

All this comes in the season of FIFA Friendlies...If you watched any matches last week, perhaps you saw Les Bleus lose to Argentina (wah!). Maybe you had that sick "can't NOT watch" fascination as England continued, well, stinking. Most likely you celebrated as the good old Americans finally found the Landon Donovan they had been looking for this summer. Not us. We, well...we watched something a bit different. The Ghana Black Stars handily dispatched the Nigeria Super Eagles, 4-1, ending a 15-year drought versus their regional rivals. Ghana has a bit of an inferiority complex vis-a-vis Nigeria, stretching beyond football. Nigeria has more money, more influence...oil. There's a complicated history here (read CLA's dissertation in a few years), but from the looks of things in the courtyard of the Catters Hostel, the game provided some vindication for Ghana. Joseph, our building manager, couldn't stay in his seat the entire match, a huge grin plastered to his face. Yvette (Ivoirian living in Ghana) stayed more subdued in her chair, nodding in affirmation but visibly nervous any time the ball entered Ghana's defensive half, unable to relax even with a three goal lead. Some guy I've never seen before yelled "GOOOOOAAAAAL" any time Essien or Appiah touched the ball, regardless of where. On the other side of the yard, the Nigerians (and one Beninese buddy) good-heartedly went back-and-forth with Joseph throughout the scoreless first half, and even until 2-0. At that point, they started claiming that the game didn't mean anything without their star striker, Obafemi Martins (though it was patently obvious that their problems weren't up front...). By the time the final whistle blew, they had quietly disappeared inside. Joseph finally sat down and sighed, "all of Ghana will have a holiday tomorrow."

Counting

Ghana turns 50 this year. TV, billboard and newspaper ads abound in announcing the country's so-called "Golden Jubilee" throughout Accra. As the first Sub-Saharan country to achieve independence, Ghana gets to be the first in the region to throw its big 50th birthday bash. Before coming to Ghana and before making it one of the big country cases in my dissertation, Ghana was to me nothing more than that little country we use alongside South Korea in our motivating example in any class on development. The power point graph is striking enough to enlist the curiosity of even the most complacent undergraduate in the room. Ghana and South Korea at equal levels of per capita income in 1957. Subsequently, a steady upward sloping line for South Korea; a desperately horizontal line for Ghana. In 2002, South Korea's per capita income stood at $16,000; Ghana's, at $1,900.

So how is Ghana doing at 50?

Ghana is doing well these days to the international eye. John Kufuor, Ghana's president, was just elected Chairman of the African Union - sparing the organization the embarassment of having Sudan's President campaign for and obtain the leading position. Kofi Annan just returned to his home country after an impressive, though not entirely uncontroversial, two terms at the head of the U.N. Everywhere I turn, Ghana is heralded as a model of "good governance".

To be frank, though, I don't really get that last part. Ever since Bush made it a key condition for sharing in his Millenium Challenge Account pot, "good governance" has become everybody's favorite alliteration. Good governance, along with sustainable development, has truly become one of the international development community's favorite jingles today. How's Ghana doing at 50? Oh, quite well, you know, good governance and all. We've said it about Museveni too. And yet both Museveni and Kufuor, according to independent local newspapers, payed off their Members of Parliament to get re-elected. Museveni spent a lot of money changing the Constitution in order to enjoy a "third term" (though, really, he's been in power in good-governance-Uganda since the early 1980s).

What exactly are we counting when we say Ghana enjoys good governance? It's true, Ghana has had multi-party presidential elections since 1992. It's rather peaceful, barring those ethnic riots in the North. And, barring the indomitable law of the jungle on Accra's roads, I don't have to fear for my life or my wallet when I walk around the streets of this city. There is order here. There is a functioning state; compared to some of its notorious neighbors in the region, Ghana at 50 is a rather democratic, peaceful, political entity. But is Ghana well-governed? Is the government doing what it's supposed to do? What happens when we start counting... the number of road accident fatalities (2,173 in 2004), guinea worm cases (3,977 in 2005), malnourished children (20% of all children today), empty taxis (by our estimate, 8 out of 10 cars), covered sewers (0 in our area), chickens hanging out at and eating from the bottom of uncovered sewers (enough to become a vegetarian), burning trash piles (enough to ruin your evening run), weeks the water has been off in Accra metropolitan area (4 or 5)...?

And yet where there is reason to rant there are also reasons to hope. Two years ago, people got their drinking water out of a large generic bowl resting on top of women vendors' heads. Today they buy "Pure Water", 500 mL of sanitized water in individual plastic packets (now if only people learned not to throw the plastic packet on the ground once they're finished drinking). HIV/AIDS billboards abound, aimed at prevention and de-stigmatization. Though, with signs that say "Stop AIDS. Be faithful to your partner(s)," the message is at times a tad clumsy. And people continue to come together to provide basic rights and services where the government really fails. One of the guys who put me in touch with the Nigerian community in Nima, one of Accra's worst slums, is not only "a man who knows people," but also the Director of a primary school for children whose parents cannot afford to pay for private schooling (or, for that matter, for their children's lunch) and who seek a better education for them than what the government schools of Nima can provide.

Ghana at 50? Well, it's not a basketcase like Sudan, an inexistant state like Somalia, an ambiguous warzone like Cote d'Ivoire, or a stale dictatorship like Togo. But it's a far cry from the model of good governance I'm still seeking here.

"I don't think you're going to convert me in this tro-tro..."

That's what I heard my erstwhile travel companion say from the row behind me in the very crowded and chatty tro-tro we had boarded. "I don't recall you telling me your religion," the man replied to her...I think. It was actually difficult to hear, because one row up, an old man was standing in the middle of the tro-tro (in retrospect, it's difficult to understand how this was possible, but he was indeed doing it) preaching to the entire vehicle in Twi about the importance of accepting good old Yesu and the Bible. Those were, of course, the only two words I understood, but they were being repeated frequently. "Mmmm...Not my bible," I thought, in synch with the conversation behind me, which came into focus again: "Actually, I think religion is a very personal thing and I don't really feel like talking with you about my beliefs." Then, the zinger reply: "Well, maybe you can give me your phone number..." BAM! Because even if it starts holy, it always ends with a phone number request. The old man up front just kept going. Those of us in the blessedly non-fire-breathing middle row -- including the tro-tro's mate -- sort of exchanged smiling heads-down glances. Certainly no one was going to tell the old man to stick a sock in it (the profound respect for elders here is actually beautiful), but we in the middle seemed to agree that something about this proselytizing--from both front and back, in two languages at once, and absolutely unrelenting--was over the top.

The over-the-topness of the evening's transportation certainly didn't stop there. This particular jalopy stopped at Madina market, and we needed to continue further north, to Adenta junction. No problem: cross street, listen for the "ADENTADENTADENTADENTA" banshee wail of the mate, board appropriate van. But things were busy; it had been market day, and a throng of women with their wares stood awaiting the next tro-tro, looking to head north as well. Their big silver bowls--usually piled to three times their capacity with all manner of goodies and situated (surprisingly stably!) on their heads--suddenly needed to fit on laps, and they were gearing up for their giant volumetric puzzle. Mayhem ensued the minute the tro-tro arrived. The women wanted to get their seats, but it took them time to get their things into the van. Meantime, though they hadn't been waiting as long, some opportunistic men tried to shove by and board. Bad move. Lots of yelling in both Twi and English, pushing, spilling. We were standing back a bit and suddenly we noticed that the front seat was empty--the big silver bowls don't fit there. BINGO! We slid around the masses, someone asked where we were headed, we muttered "Adenta"...the door opened and we were inside while everything got sorted out behind us. But then, there was someone hanging on the front passenger window. Turned out the guy who opened the door was not the mate, and he wanted a pittance for "ensuring that we got the front seat." Before I could figure out how to answer this absurdity, a "You have GOT to be kidding me" and a double-death-ray glare shot out the window from beside me. Mission accomplished. This tro-tro full of women is something like Tetris meets Grand Theft Auto, but we were packed and moving.

When we arrived at Adenta junction, we had to catch a final van to our friends' neighborhood. We wandered through the tro-tro park, looking for the right area...we were headed towards "Housing Down" so this of course means listening for a "DONDONDONDONDON"...we heard it, but as we headed towards the sound of freedom, we were accosted by other drivers and mates in the park who wanted to "help" us...by sitting us in an empty tro-tro. This ensures that theirs will be the next to leave, but an undetermined wait for the rest of it to fill is about the last thing we want at this point in our journey. Again, before I could even process, I heard my partner in crime: "Are you CRAZY?!? It's completely EMPTY. What do you think we ARE?" And I'm being pulled through the annoying empty tro-tros and onto a full--and pleasantly quiet--one that promptly departs.

We had a wonderful evening among friends, but the lesson of the night is clear: when navigating Ghanaian transportation, it's best to be in the company of someone who takes care of business!