Lots of Stuff from Bayli's Brain

Bayli’s perspective

Andy is having a hard time pulling his thoughts together, and I'm ready to post, so here it is, from my brain only.

He forgot to wear his work clothes :) this is a cafe on campus where we were getting cappucinos

On the surface, blogging felt like it would be really easy and that we’d be putting together really funny stuff for all to read all the time. And then, routine happens and life gets a bit busy. So, instead of writing something together this time, we are offering a couple different perspectives on the things that have been going on. Lesley Anne, this is similar to our emails circa 2009 at about 25 pages.

Rashes and Beaches

I guess we should’ve known that something medically related would happen sooner or later. Luckily for me, it was Andy’s body that took the hit.

After an afternoon of ultimate Frisbee (yes, we are involved in a league and may even have t shirts someday to prove it), Andy noticed a bite on his inner wrist. Bug bites here itch in a much different way, just as a side note. I’ve been awakened from my sleep to itch a bug bite multiple times here. It’s the kind of itch that has to be taken care of! Anyway, Andy’s bite started to spread a little and kind of took on the appearance of a heat rash on his wrist. So, we tended to it with some itch cream and generic allergy meds. 

The rash started to appear a few days before we had planned our first trip out of the city. Ain’t no rash messing up our plans, so Andy sucked it up and to the beach we went.

We paid David (a local cab driver who drives for many of the teachers here) 150 GHC to take us to Tills Beach Resort just 35 miles outside the city. The exchange rate of dollars to GHC (local currency) is 1 to 4, so it was not a bad deal between 4 of us. Anyway, because traffic in Accra is a damned nightmare, it was suggested to leave at 6 am on Saturday. I thought that was a bit stupid because honestly, how bad can traffic be? Well, it’s bad. The infrastructure of the roads and traffic system has no rhyme or reason. Traffic also bottlenecks where they are turning five lanes into one for no apparent reason. After a three-hour journey to the beach, we arrived in time for breakfast and a beer!

The resort is not what we would consider a resort at home, but it did the trick. It was right on the beach, with a little bar, and covered wooden beach loungers to stay safe from the African sun. The rooms were incredibly basic. Bed, table, toilet that might flush if you’re lucky—perfect for anyone with poonxiety. Oh, and the shower didn’t really drain. Like I said, the term “resort” is kind of loose here. 

Tills Beach Resort

We enjoyed a full day at the beach with our friends, Brett and Ashley. Just a few feet down the beach from us was an all day “party.” Complete with blasting music and 50 plus locals. They seemed to be having a wonderful time celebrating. We got to watch them set up a 4x1 ish relay race down the beach. We thought it would look great if we entered a team of whiteys to race them if they chose to do a second round. Unfortunately, they only raced once.

The water at the beach seemed clean, but it was also cold. We stayed out for the most part, but enjoyed the sound of the waves and the smell of the salt. The ocean is familiar to me, and at the same time, I had to keep reminding myself that I was on the beach in Africa. It still sounds very foreign in my head.

We enjoyed Ghanaian cuisine at the hotel restaurant alongside some restaurant kittens. It seems many restaurants have kittens just hanging out.

Restaurant Kitten

All in all, our 24 hours at the beach was very relaxing. It also felt great to set something up and have it work out. Not having a car of our own puts a lot of dependency on others. It makes planning something a bit more tedious. But, it worked well. We were only stopped at one police stop. Our drive had to give the guy a dash (like 5 GHC) to let us go without hassle. We are learning more and more about government here and how backwards it can be.

The beginning of this whole beach story also started with Andy’s rash. Well, here it goes. The rash did not go away with salt water like we hoped it would. It continued to get worse, and after text consultation with my mom, who is a nurse, we deemed it necessary to go to the doctor. We are part of a clinic called WARA (West African Rescue Association). They have a 24-hour clinic that is hard to get to, but nice to have. If you have something that they cannot fix, they will pay to evacuate you to a country that can meet the need. For example, a coworker of mine was flown out for a hernia surgery.

Anyway, after work on Monday, Andy headed to WARA to get his arm checked. He said the doctor just stared at it and said he’d never seen anything like it. He referred him to a dermatologist for later in the week. Because it looked infected, we did more text consultation with nurse Cindy and went to the pharmacy to try an antibiotic. It’s definitely a shift in knowing you can walk into a pharmacy here and get most of the medicine that would see a doctor for in the U.S. The medicine we tried did not work.

The part that started to get really funny was the fact that everyone in our little community happened to know about Andy’s rash. It was like a trending topic for over a week #andysrash. We were constantly getting asked about it, and having people tell us stories of things that happened when they moved here. It is a good reminder how small, and caring, this community is. 

Rash. Zoom in if you like that stufff

Because neither of us had heard of the hospital where the derm was located, we decided it was best for both of us to go. We got picked up right after work, at 3:30. We sat in traffic for a while. The temp outside was high 80s with humidity. No air conditioning in the car so the windows were down. We were two sweat puddles melting into the nice driver’s backseat. Andy called the doctor’s office to say we were running late, which must not be common courtesy here because we really confused them into thinking we were not coming at all.

We made it to the hospital, which is on a dirt road and far removed from any other kind of business. The cab driver begged for more money when arrived because it took longer than expected and was further than he thought. In a rush, Andy got out of the car, leaving me as the lone sucker to give the guy a few more GHC.

The hospital is a very large, circular, waiting area. Off the sides are hallways, a pharmacy, and a place to pay. Andy checked in, and we waited for over an hour. We watched many moms and new babies go in and out. Saw someone basically throw up in a bag and be rushed out to his car. That was weird. Finally, Andy’s name got called. He came back a few minutes later because they just took his height and weight. Then, at about 5:45, Andy saw the dermatologist. After about five minutes, he was back and finished. The doctor said it was a form of eczema and gave him a cream and some hay fever medicine. No antibiotic.

This is the hospital. Goats all around.

We went to the pharmacy, filled the prescription and then headed to hospital check out. We waited in line to find out we don’t pay. We weren’t willing to risk looking like fugitives without asking enough people to take our money, so we went back to reception to double-check. The gentleman giggled at us and told us we did not need to pay. So we left.

Because it was about 6 pm at this point, and we were not close to anything, a taxi had to be called for us. We waited, and waited, and waited, for the taxi. While waiting, the doctor that had seen Andy was leaving for the day. He pulled up to us and said, “Mr. Martinez. I was going to call you. Your arm is infected.” He promptly wrote a prescription on the back of a receipt for Andy’s antibiotic. Had we not been waiting so long, perhaps this story would be about Andy’s arm being amputated. I’m glad we waited.

The cab made it and began to tell us there is bad traffic. Well, there is always bad traffic so I thought he was making an excuse. Come to find out, a major road had flooded and traffic was a real B! We sat in the car for an hour to go all of two miles. On the verge of hangry, with the mall in sight, we paid the guy and got out and walked for dinner. We picked the only restaurant in the mall with no beer, so that was a bonus for us at that point.

We hoped taking a break would give time for the traffic to clear up, so we slowly enjoyed our meals, finished, and headed for the taxi line. In no mood to barter, we basically got taken for and paid much more than necessary to go home.

Andy and I walked in the door at 8:45 ish. It was quite the adventure! All that time for about five minutes with the doctor.

Pictures

I was walking to the gym on a Saturday afternoon recently. I’m looking ultra-white in my Lulu gear, carrying my hydroflask, and my iPod, and enjoying the sunshine. A local gentleman, probably in my age range, turns the corner and starts walking toward me. We say hello as we pass and then he asks me to stop and proceeds to ask me a question. It took me a few times to understand what he wanted, which was to take a picture with me. Because I’m not used to being followed by paparazzi, I naturally obliged him. There was nobody on the street to take the picture for us, so he asked if he could just take a picture of me. I felt a bit weird, but also kind of famous, so I let him take the pic. Who knows what kind of photoshop junk he turned it into (I’m hoping it’s not like the nudie cards in Vegas), but I hope it was just to show his friends and family a 6’ white woman with light hair and eyes is just walking through their neighborhoods.

He thanked me and I said it was no problem. Then he asked me for my phone number. I gave it to him and now I have a Ghana boyfriend, and an American husband.

Just kidding! I did not hand my number out to a man on the street. Andy is my only boyfriend/husband.

Celine Dion Everywhere!

Celine Dion Tribute Concerts #ghanaisseriousaboutCeline

Early on, one of our teaching colleagues pointed out to us how often you hear Celine Dion playing in Ghana. He was not joking. Celine is always on the radio, or in a driver’s car, or playing at the coffee shops. They are playing her music like it is the newest hit. We asked a cab driver once what he was listening to because it was very quiet. He turned it up and told us it was Celine.

Our colleague is involved in all kinds of random stuff, like working at bar that is in an orphanage, and putting together shows. He and a group of his friends put together a Celine Dion tribute concert a few weeks ago. Let me tell you that this was quite a show. The local band called, Hi Skul Band, is very talented and their frontwoman has a wonderful voice. She was able to channel her inner Celine beautifully. My favorite part of the night was when she sang “My Hear Will Go On.” As she was singing, there was a video montage from Titanic playing behind her on a giant screen.

Before the Celine Show

It was hard not to reminisce about when the movie came out, and I was met with a fond memory of being in a packed movie theater with my friend Anya. We were in 6^th grade and ready to watch a love story for the ages. The song also played at every middle school dance I ever attended as a student, when we still slow danced.

It probably goes without saying at this point, but I will anyway. If you’re looking for a Celine Dion fix, please come visit us and we can help you out. 

Shankil Apartments

This is just a funny little tidbit. We live in an apartment complex owned by the school. The school is in charge of naming the complex. Some other complex names include Enterprise, Pleasantfields, and Legacy.

Our apartments are new this year, so they were named recently as Shankil. Another teacher who lives in our complex was out with some local teachers and they were having a conversation about where we live. Our friend told them our apartments were called Shankil, only to get a response of, “beg your pardon?” So, he repeated that he lived in Shankil. The locals laughed and asked if he knew what “shank” means in Ghanaian. He did not, nor did we.

Being educated is always fun. Shank means shit in Ghanaian. Not like cussing shit, but an actual name for poop/shit. We’ve really enjoyed having a new word for shit and try to use it in place of the word shit often. The end.

Coaching Volleyball

I spent the majority of my 20’s involved in coaching volleyball in some fashion. Be it high school, middle school, or club. In moving to Ghana, I was hoping to take a break from coaching and just be able to control my time and how I spend it. Upon arrival here, the AD started making announcements that he needed high school volleyball coaches. I always sat quietly, or didn’t respond to his group emails trying to recruit coaches.

My plan failed. When coaching is a large part of your resume, you cannot hide. In early August, the AD visited my office to personally talk to me about coaching. I’d already told Andy that if I were to be approached personally, I would have a very difficult time saying no. So, I’m coaching and winding down my first season.

For the record, I’m not having near as much fun as I did coaching with Jeff (known by most as Molly) and making our teams do ridiculous things, like an 8 count on the end line before the games start, or feeling their spandex for signs of poo when they look scared shitless of another team, just to name a few highlights.

This is probably going to be a boring read for anyone who is not interested in volley, or being so volley ;) feel free to skip ahead if that applies to you.

The level of play for high school here is the equivalent of C team middle school volleyball, which I helped coach for two seasons. Lots of underhand serving and holding hands to switch positions. Last year, they were running a 4-2 with the setter out of the middle. Trying to change that proved difficult and some girls just think I’m full of it and refuse by “forgetting” these changes for 7 weeks. I’m trying to keep my expectations in check as the level of play is not Most Ballin’ or Beast Mode.

It has been fun, and much less of a commitment than I am used to at this level. Practice is three days a week. Two days are in the gym, which is a covered court, but open-air on the sides. One day is outside on a concrete court. Those days I am equipped with lots of sunscreen and deodorant. Standing in the sun for three seconds creates the feel of Godwin gym in August and, needless to say, I’m dripping sweat in no time.

Our season winds down next weekend. We host the end of year tournament called WAISAL (West African Inter Scholastic Activities League). Teams from Lagos, Mali, and other nearby countries will come to our school for the tournament. Instead of staying in hotels, players and coaches are hosted by families and teachers of our school. Andy and I will be hosting a coach from Lagos. I’m looking forward to my team being victorious since we now have a setter in right front and two viable hitting options at all times.

Looking Stupid All the Time

There is no way to segue this one. Andy and I have had many discussions about how to do things here. Like get a cab, barter, where to shop, and all other daily activities. Because we are both a bit self-conscious and like to know what we are doing, we have a hard time taking charge here when we don’t. It is a fear of looking stupid, or not in control, or something like it. Even when we think we know what we are doing sometimes it doesn’t work. So, we’ve come to the conclusion that we look stupid 24/7.

First, we stand out big time. Two tall white people aren’t going to hide size-wise in any crowd. Second, every time we have to ask basic questions or for help, we end up confusing the person or in a very long conversation about something different. Even though the language here is English, it almost feels like there is more of a language barrier due to local dialects. Part of what has helped us get over our fear of looking like idiots, is realizing we look like idiots even when we think we don’t. So, when we get timid, or embarrassed to ask something, we kindly remind each other that we already look stupid without trying, so who cares. Honestly, it is coming in very handy as a mantra to live by. You should try it!

Vacation

The school shuts down for one week in October, which allows us a week off. Our original plan was to go to London to visit Hanna, but when we got here, we had to turn our passports over to get our work visas and were told not to plan to leave the country. Buzzkill!

Once we got over the fact that we were not leaving Ghana, we embraced it. We worked with a local tour company and got set up for a week of exploring.

Sekou, our driver for the week, is from Burkina. He has lived in Ghana for many years and was very knowledgeable about the country. Sekou picked us up from Shankil on Saturday to begin our journey.

Slave Castles

During the first couple days we got to tour historic slave castles at Cape Coast and Elmina. Both had similar backstories, being used for trading goods and slaves who were in high demand. The castles housed the slaves as a last stop before they were loaded into ships. Slaves were held in dungeons packed to capacity. Very little light was allowed in, and they were not let out for much. Maybe an occasional cleaning of the floor. Some would lose their vision when being let out into the light after spending months in the dark. Men and women were separated from each other. Children were also housed separately. Some women were chosen for the governor of the castle to sleep with. She would be let out of the dungeon, washed, and led to the governor. Once he was finished with her, she was put back in the dungeon.

This room used to have ammunition. Now it holds bats that are said to spirits of people who lost their lives at Elmina

Elmina Castle from the Governor's Quarters.

View from the castle

Visiting these historic sites was very eye opening. There is dichotomy in calling these buildings castles. Castles are beautiful, which these certainly are, but there was so much destruction on the inside. We stood inside a room that slaves were put to die. The room had no ventilation and was pitch black. The room would be packed full and after about three days, everyone had died, which is when the doors would be opened. We were in the room for about 30 seconds, knew we would be let out, and the feeling was still sickening.

As you work your way up the floors of the castle it gets nicer and nicer. So, while slaves are in the room to die, just three stories up are the governor’s quarters, which are beautiful. Windows for days and ocean views. It is hard to sum up the experiences of Cape Coast Castle and Elmina Castle. For me, it’s been informative and incredibly thought provoking.

Kakum

Kakum is a national rainforest preserve in Ghana. The main attraction of Kakum is a canopy walk consisting of seven suspended bridges throughout the preserve. For me, this was a really fun experience. The bridges are a little bouncy when others are on them, but still safe and sturdy. Andy did not feel this way. He was very fast to finish the canopy walk and did not take his hands off the ropes. The canopy walk was incredible for views and seeing how lush the land is.

View from Canopy Walk

Since this is my perspective, Andy is scared in this pic. It's the only time he took his hands off the ropes

Ankasa

In the middle of our trip we headed to Ankasa. In this area of Ghana there are many rubber and cocoa plants and factories. It is green and alive. We stayed at a place called Frenchman’s Farm, which is exactly what it is. The owner is from the bordering country of Cote d’Ivore, or Ivory Coast. The Frenchman has lived in Ghana for many years and gives jobs to those coming from Ivory Coast seeking refuge from the corruption of that country. His property was vast and stunning. The air is a little crisper, though still humid. 

 

Bamboo Cathedral. Local tribes used to live in this forest because it offered natural protection.

Near his farm is another preserve that has a bamboo cathedral. We decided to check it out. It’s located deep in the forest and on a dirt road. There had been so much rain that parts of the road were hard to get through. What was supposed to be about an hour venture, turned into multiple hours because another vehicle got stuck in the mud. Park workers and our driver had to help the car. In the meantime, another park worker walked us the remainder of the way to see the bamboo cathedral. The space was peaceful and quiet. People used to live in that forest, but were pushed out when the government decided to make is a preserved space.

Customs Stop

On our way to the beach from the Frenchman’s Farm we had to pass through customs. It is basically a road block and the police either wave you through or pull you over. We got pulled over. The police were asking for our passports, which we had been instructed never to turn your passport over. We all lied and said we did not have them because we were not traveling out of the country.

The police made our driver get out and go with them. The police continued to question where we had been. They asked for ID’s and we turned over our non-resident ID cards. The police took them inside.

A few minutes later a policeman came back and asked us to get out of the car. Not wanting to piss them off, we all complied. The police took us inside and asked us where we had been traveling. We told them again we had been in Ankasa. They questioned what we were doing in Ghana. After about 45 seconds, they handed our IDs back and let us go.

When we got in the car, Sekou told us they had wanted money. Because none of us panicked, and they didn’t hold anything of value the police had nothing to try to use against us. The experience left me feeling pretty uneasy. I trust people in power positions and seeing how easily the police abuse their power was unsettling. I am grateful the situation did not go further, and learned a bit more about how to handle myself. Corrupt government has been in Ghana as long as Sekou could remember. He said the police will do anything for quick money and do it often.

The Beach

The last part of our vacation was spent at the beach. We were outside a city called Takoradi and staying at a little resort called Fanta’s Folly. The resort has a protected area where sea turtles come and lay their eggs.

Fanta Folly Resort from our room

We were very lucky that while we were staying there, a turtle came to lay eggs. This happens in the middle of the night so we did not get to see that part. The owners of the hotel kept the turtle overnight because there were huge fishing nets in the ocean that were being pulled out in the morning. They didn’t want the turtle to get caught.

We were lucky enough to get to witness the turtle being released and making her way back to the ocean. She timed her movements with the movements of the ocean, and it was a beautiful thing to watch.  

A Few Thoughts

While traveling we went through lots of small villages. One of my favorite things is seeing the faces on little kids when they recognize that the vehicle is full of white people. Their eyes light up and their automatic response is to wave. All they want back is a wave. It is very innocent and precious.

The other thing that has happened to me multiple times now, and I described one experience earlier, is people wanting pictures with me. In a museum at Elmina Castle, two young women came up and asked for pictures with me and Andy. It became clear they didn’t really want Andy in the picture. It is an interesting thing to be in your own skin and be a bit of an anomaly for local people. Everyone who has approached me has been kind. One girl nuzzled right into my side and gave me a big side hug. I feel like someone in costume at a Disney park.