Ugh...

Sorry I haven’t written for the past two weeks! I came down with chicken pox and so that put me out of commission for a straight week. It’s not exactly easy to be mobile with a bunch of red sores on you, and having people wonder if you’ve been eating something bad.

Anyway, before that happened I started getting down to work in both devising the court watch program that I’ll be overseeing in the next few months. That involved meeting with Irene Oppong at the DOVVSU (the domestic violence sections of the police force in Ghana) and writing a letter to a magistrate asking for clearance to attend court sessions. Writing to a magistrate is a bit of an odd thing, since I’d never even drafted a letter to one, much less to ask permission for something. It was interesting that WiLDAF already has an idea of who to contact, and so I just had to outline the skeleton of my project and the premise of it – it illustrates that at least some of the judiciary is taking this as a serious problem.

That was backed up by my visit with Irene at DOVVSU. The trip to the police station was somewhat challenging for me, since I had no idea where it was exactly, but now I have a better idea of where it is in the city. The police station is crowded, noisy, dark, and very hot – not the most ideal place to bring a victim of domestic violence, particularly since police officers are often overworked and trying to oversee more than one thing at a time. That was the case with my meeting with Irene – every three minutes she jumped up to talk to someone else in one of the local dialects, so the flow of conversation was very disjointed. It gave me a sense, though, of just what kinds of difficulties the officers in this country face – on the first two floors there were well over one hundred civilians and maybe ten or twenty police officers at most. That kind of workload, that kind of environment makes it hard to try and solve crimes, particularly since law enforcement in itself is so chaotically busy. Also, when one considers that the police make little over three or four dollars a day (and in Accra, that really doesn’t go all that far), it makes one wonder about the incentive to work hard, or worse yet, to stand up to corruption.

Irene outlined many problems with trying to enforce the Domestic Violence Act which I found very interesting. Whilst she said that the Act was substantively quite a good piece of legislation, it was the mechanics of enforcement that were extremely difficult. Trying to convince people to lodge complaints, or to further carry their issue to a later stage in court, was especially different. I haven’t yet spoken to anyone at court or seen a court case, but I have an idea I’ll be seeing this kind of problem. In South Africa, it was reported that absenteeism of parties to the courtroom represented one of the greatest challenges to actually enforcing the act, primarily because things such as protection orders required service on the receiving party in order to take effect. In Ghana, I can see it being even moreso, since in Ghanaian court I’m not one hundred percent sure if domestic violence is viewed as a criminal or as a family matter. South African courts already outlined that problem, and there is a strict characterization of domestic violence as a criminal matter. Since Ghanaian court emphasizes reconciliation and makes means such as mediation available for offenses lacking a certain severity, does that mean that domestic violence has more of a social, more of a civil mandate? And, if so, when people fail to show up, what do courts do? South African courts often try to proceed without the parties present, but that’s because they have a strict mandate that the action is to be tried by the state (due to their characterization of criminal law); with Ghana, I’m not sure what will happen, whether an action can still proceed in the absence of parties. It makes it very tough, then, to find ways to encourage victims of domestic violence to not just make their statements, but to go through the whole court procedure, especially if they feel that the state may not be trying to represent them, but make them go up against their domestic partner in some kind of ‘grudge-match’ to determine whether protection orders are necessary. An interesting issue, indeed.

I also got to go to the launch of Ghana’s Millennium Development Goals Shadow Report, which tries to detail the progress Ghana has been making toward the MDGs - since it is 2008 and the goals are supposed to be reached by 2015, it was sort of a ‘halfway progress report’. Instead of being a comprehensive seminar on what Ghana does need to do and what it has accomplished, it was a lot more self-congratulation about what great work the committee does, and some discussion of what Ghana has done to reach some of the goals. What I found very interesting was when people were invited to ask questions of the ‘panel of experts’ (whom were all some sort of doctor or pastor or whatever), they firstly limited the number of questions to three, which I thought was self-defeating since I thought the greatest questions could arise from discussion and not just straight agenda issues. Then, when some schoolchildren decided to ask questions (which I thought was great), they asked strong questions and I don’t think their questions got answered. What instead came out was what I call a UPS, a Universal Political Speech, which obfuscates and takes focus away from the question rather than answering it. For example:

Student Q: You emphasize that children’s education is important, however you do not make any emphasis about the infrastructure that children need. For example, transportation – many of us have to take tro-tro (the Ghanaian version of a bus, but it is a *slow* bus) or walk to school, which can take upwards of a few hours each way. The distances to school can discourage some of my brothers or sisters (in Africa, they really get into the habit of calling colleagues this, which is very charming, I find). What do you say about trying to increase road availability, or better yet, making school buses available for children?
“Head of Ghana MDG progress committee”: That’s a great question. By one of the students, at that. Can we have a hand of applause for this student? (applause) Now, your question is so good and my answer is that we all have to sacrifice. The MDGs aren’t for one person to achieve, they’re not for the government to achieve, they’re for everyone to sacrifice, old and young and students. I actually have a story for you: back when I was going to school, all of us had to walk to school. And it was five miles away, and let me tell you this: when I got to university, I was so good at running I was my university’s long distance runner! (more applause as he sits down from his “answer”)

Do note, this wasn’t even a politician, this was an eminent researcher at the University of Ghana, who headed this committee – it’s not like I could see any overt political agenda, but maybe there is one. As it is, it does make me pause when I think that the message to children is “sacrifice” – sure, sacrifice is important and it’s key that everyone does things, but seriously, if children aren’t able to obtain sufficient education where will they go? Everyone was applauding how great this professor was for becoming a distance runner in university and whatnot, but I was far less impressed, because he failed to even try and address the question, even if it is to say that nothing is forthcoming and here’s a good reason why, instead of talking about sacrifice.

Let’s put this into perspective somewhat: the head of the committee was someone in his sixties, which means that when he was going to school it was in the fifties, at the birth of Ghana as a nation at best. Back then, there were no standard graduation exams to enter university for Ghana, and I’ve seen the ones they now give and they’re really hard given the standard of the students I’ve seen. To pass the exams, one needs to study – now, if they have fifteen pounds of books on their back when “jogging” the five miles back, that’s likely to take a longer time, and I’ll give them an hour or so to jog back. So, they get home at four. The sun sets at six, and there are likely to be chores at home to do. Thus, when they start to study, there’s probably no light and if they live in the villages, there’s no electricity. How easy is it to study trigonometry by I dunno, very limited firelight? Not to mention, there is a large rainy season in Ghana which might even complexify matters! Thus, bright answer professor, but the simple answer is that if you want to bring people to a certain educational standard, the standards have risen compared to where you were, so you are going to likely need to make things more available for students in order for them to actively explore these educational possibilities. I’m not sure if I’ll get lots of agreement on this, but I gave this answer an F even though it got the largest round of applause (even if I think most of it came from the rest of the “panel of distinguished speakers”).

I’m interested to see the shadow report, though. It’s apparently available somewhere in the building I work in (the Christian Council of Ghana) but I haven’t been there to pick it up (for obvious reasons). As it was, I guess the camera got some pretty good shots of me looking intent (though that was mostly because my arms weren’t able to move since they were both ultimately very sore, which is apparently an early symptom of chicken pox) since I got calls the day after from my coworkers saying I was on the news. That, or well, when trying to look for the most striking images in Ghana, look for the Chinese guy who (seemingly) randomly is present at these events, eh?

Finally, while I’ve been on my back, I’ve done some research and I’m getting really interested. My project, while it looked sort of straightforward (and still looks that way), is growing much more interesting, since it is really taking a polycentric approach to looking at domestic violence through the many lenses it can be portrayed. Hopefully, I’ll be able to publish my reports and then everyone can see them in the end!

Week 1? 2? 1.5?

Well! Let’s see, the first week has passed by and I’m doing relatively well. No huge infections, no big injuries, no major feelings of isolation… sometimes, I do feel homesick but I think everyone must at some point. However, I do look at this as something that will serve me for the rest of my life, a point in my life where I feel I can truly be proud of what I’m actually trying to do. Life is fickle in that respect, where you might go about working forever without getting that sense of accomplishment, of satisfaction. However, I am lucky to have one such moment right now, and I hope that I can have them for a long time coming.

Where were we? Ah yes – I’d just written up everything up to Wednesday morning last time. Well, on Wednesday, I started to draft the legal intake forms (or rather, my conception of what they should be like). What I made of WiLDAF was that their forms had a good level of detail and asked many insightful questions, but the overall presentation was a bit disorganized and that made recording and storing data all the more difficult. Thus, I started to streamline, and then after writing up the first draft (using a WiLDAF form, and the forms I had from Toronto) I realized that I probably should’ve talked more to the practicing clinicians about some of the major issues when it came to recording patient intake. Brilliant, eh? Well, at the very least, I had completed a key form which was malleable and thus easily changeable. From it, I also got a decent idea of some of the problematic issues when trying to do something like legal aid. For instance, donors like to give to projects with clear, defined boxes around their duties and just what they cover. However, in the case of legal aid, advice does not strictly revolve around the legal sphere – it’s often the therapy, the reference to extra services, the extra-legal attempts to solve the problem which play as major a role as the overall legal research and potential litigation. Trying to assign a single “hat” or “cause of action” to various files in legal aid, then, is problematic, and while I understand a donor’s need for accountability, I think it’s awfully presumptuous of a donor to force causes to fit into this strict mold. After all, who really does know what the community needs – the donor, or the donee charity? As it is, when trying to draft this form I saw the difficulty that one had in trying to give people the leeway to describe a case in full detail, whilst making the culling of information easy (for study purposes), whilst trying to keep the form to a decent length (and I was quite happy to actually get it down to three pages).

Thursday, I spent the majority of the morning trying to create a second “monthly” or “daily” form for the legal aid clinics of WiLDAF. See, legal aid clinics are often crowded because people simply cannot afford the services (or lie and try to get free services) otherwise. While I think a normal lawyer may have no problem keeping their clients straight (as there may only be a few they will interview in a day), from my previous work with the UBC legal advice program I knew that legal aid was almost a “revolving door”, which basically tried to cram in as many clients as possible. Because of this, I thought that trying to draft up a second form that would keep track of a legal aid officer’s daily case load and what kinds of headings the cases fell under, would be very useful if one was trying to analyze records to see certain trends or acquire certain quantitative data. I got the idea from looking at a doctor’s daily form as well as the Schlifer clinic forms, realizing that if properly placed, legal aid could benefit from this kind of intake as well. For example, assigning numbers to each client’s legal file would make it easier to store the client in a database (and update their file as needed). Likewise, classifying the heads there and then and fitting them into various checkmarked boxes would make it easy to record and store the data for a simple database, whilst making sure that one could also refer to the file if they wanted further detail. This would help legal aid to better fit into the mold donors want, whilst making data storage and access easier.

Friday, I got to stay in my own private office (yay!) for a day (well, so much for permanence). I started to do research on the Domestic Relations Bill of Uganda (as that is one of the bases for my comparative law paper) and realized that while Ghana may face many issues with implementation and regulation of its own Act, it is actually in a much better position than Uganda, which has been debating over this specific Bill for the past 5-8 years. Specific parts of the Bill in particular (such as those banning marital rape and limiting polygamy) came under fire from the various religious components of the country, and so its ratification has stalled for a very long time. This is a very serious problem in Uganda, because its HIV rate is very high (above 30% of the adult population) and many of the social patterns of transmission would either be outlawed or strictly regulated through the Bill’s introduction. These kinds of Bills are really important not just from a legal perspective, but because they help to give women in relationships an authority, something they can point to as protecting specifically them, particularly because many of the pluralist traditions on Africa, in being recognized, are implicitly allowing for a subjugation of females to occur based on customary marriage or religious structures.

This also got me to think about Canada: we don’t really have a specific DVA, and sexual assault procedure also is not well-regulated or monitored to ensure for a systematic process to best give the complainant comfort and faith in the legal system, to encourage their testimony. Domestic violence is one of those rarely commented-on elements in society in Canada, and I wonder why, exactly. It is clearly something that people are uncomfortable in discussing, but could the absence of something like a DVA make it even harder for victims to want to contribute their stories to mainstream society? Also, does the absence of a DVA make society complacent and think that we have “solved” a problem like that, while in all honesty, a majority of studies say that at least 40% of all women have experienced some sort of sexual violence, harassment or intimidation in their lifetime? I mean, a DVA or something like it might not increase Canadian success rates in prosecution, but would its existence at least inspire more people to discuss it in Canada? I’m not sure, personally, since the USA does have many more provisions which confront the issue, but I also see the same problem of silence. Canada and the USA are clearly not like Omelas, but there is something to be said about our societies if we willingly make ourselves unaware of these kinds of issues.

It’s also something to be said that Ghana, for all its strong Christian tradition, actually really makes more of an issue of DV and other serious topics: the news actually carries substantive issues without a huge emphasis on celebrity or human interest stories which, while interesting, often represent such a microcosm that they don’t represent people, and as such, don’t really represent what I think the news should be about. Topics about real election issues, about the clashes between religion, about social upheaval including the DVA and gender parity, are described from more than one perspective. This is far more than is often seen in North American media, be it the USA or Canada. Much like my previous statement, it really reflects on us as a society when we have the most means to inform us, yet we choose to inform ourselves as little as we possibly can. Blame the media companies if you want, but the fact is, if there wasn’t a demand for dross as stories, there wouldn’t be a supply of them.

Anyway, we then come to the weekend, where I did enjoy myself but I also got to think a lot more about Ghanaian systems and how the problems within the community can amplify each other to make major attempts at change very difficult. On Saturday, a bunch of kids that work where I live took me to see some of the landmarks in Osu, primarily a large soccer stadium (where, I was told, the Ghana national team would be playing Lesotho the next day), Independence Square, a major beach near the residence of Ghana’s president John Kufuor, and Accra market. The whole trip was really interesting, primarily my trip to the beach and to the soccer stadium.

At the beach, I ran into Richard, a Frenchman who had been living in Ghana for the past 24 years, and I was really excited to get to practice my French for a bit. In his 24 years, he talked about how he fell in love with the country and the people (if not the initial military regime running the country), particularly in comparison with living in Nigeria for a bit of time beforehand. He now lives in Ghana permanently (and has for 12 years), and talked quite a bit about how the past 8 years have been a whirlwind for Ghana. “It’s rather unbelievable,” he remarked as we stood around with my friends (who were also his friends) watching both of us talk. “Much of what has happened was inconceivable even a decade ago; such a widening of civil freedoms, the expansion of the markets… it’s brought a change, and while the pace of life has certainly sped up, I think it is for the better.” This, mind you, was while we were standing on a beach not really littered with garbage, but far more than any other beach I’d been on, with the rotting hull of a wooden ship no more than fifty feet away from us, beached on the shore in some manner that I couldn’t fathom. This was with children running around us, playing soccer, but many with sores that did not look to be in any state of mend, or coughing up a storm, or some with lighter-colored hair, all three of these symptoms to be strong indicia of protein malnutrition in the population. This, even as we stood about one kilometer from the presidential “castle” (which looked sort of like the palace in Aladdin in Agrabah), unable to go any further not because of walls but because of armed soldiers who looked like they were ready to go to war, demanding to see papers and waving their rifles around with not simply an air of duty but with something bordering imperiousness. The elements of poverty, of environmental damage, of what looked to border on potential plutocracy (I understand the need to protect the president, but 1 kilometer away? Come *on*… there were even walls around the castle further in! And seriously, which leader of a democratic nation would declare themselves to live in a “palace”?). In many ways, the people of Ghana are charming and the country is developing, but it makes me wonder as to what it looked like before 2000 (the year the military allowed for an open democratic election). The widening of civil freedoms, though, I can’t really contest, particularly seeing people openly discuss dissatisfaction with the government, and criticize it in ways that would likely see harassment or arrest in Singapore.

I really enjoyed my talk with Richard, because it gave me a fresh perspective to what I had seen before. See, the boys I went with insisted that I had to go into the soccer stadium to get a true idea of what it was like (though, in all honesty, it doesn’t look any more impressive than any collegiate stadium in Canada, but that in itself makes quite an impression when considering the state of many buildings or the streets). However, I had the feeling that I wouldn’t be allowed in, simply because at most stadiums you’re not allowed to sit in the stands unless it’s game day and you have a ticket. Well, let’s see, I did get to go in. I did get to sit in the stands. Heck, I got to stand on the proper turf itself, and jog around the field – I bet if I’d asked insistently enough they’d have let me kick a soccer ball around on it. On a national field for their elite soccer matches. Of course, there’s always a catch. And what was it? Well, I had a feeling as to what was going on when the boys were talking to the guard in Twi (so I didn’t understand) before I was let in, and what I had to do later was confirmed. That I had to “give something in return”, or in more plain terms, give them illicit payment - a bribe, if you will. So I did, since the boys had basically insisted I go (and I didn’t want to look rude), but implicitly I was kicking myself. In doing this act, I was not only witnessing corruption but actively condoning it, something that really rankles at me. However, it only makes me wonder about the shaky structure that Ghana actually rests on. If the guards of the stadium are willing to risk their jobs just for a few dollars, what does that mean for people in higher positions? This kind of act at the base does not occur unless there are examples that they follow from higher up. The Transparency International reports really underscored that Ghanaians had low faith in their institutions because of a high perception of corruption. After one afternoon, I can understand why. So for the rest of the afternoon I wasn’t super-pleased by that, but in talking to Richard I at least had some hope for the future. Hopefully, the growth of civil expression would allow for a more active search, one to prosecute those elements of corruption and provide a better example for the future. Thus, from now on, I vow to do absolutely nothing in Ghana unless I know explicitly what I am getting into and what I might be condoning through my acts. It also makes me wonder about my work with the DVA – does this perception of corruption really play into women’s reluctance to going to court? Consider that often women are going to court not only for domestic violence, but also to pursue a support order for themselves and their children. Without proper resources, it may seem more probable to them that their male “partners” would be better equipped to bend the rules in the legal establishment to suit themselves. On top of that, even if they do go, maybe they drop out midway through if the elements of corruption do play out. For example, one of Transparency International’s reports had described one situation where an outstanding action had been instituted eleven years ago and had yet to go to court because the docket mysteriously “went missing” every time the hearing day arrived, only to mysteriously appear soon thereafter.

Perhaps the most fun I had was just walking through Osu market with the boys. By that time, my camera had run out of power (aren’t I just great with this whole blogging thing?), but to see the vibrant nature of commerce in Africa is awesome. Bargaining is a necessity of life, much like in China, but things are done quite differently. The idea of face is much more important, and it looks like maintaining a smile on your face in Africa makes people more amenable to negotiating at your level – however, I didn’t really buy anything so I don’t know. I also saw a festival with people dancing in red – when asking the boys, they said it was a funeral, which was a little odd because on Friday night, I also saw people dancing at a funeral, but in black. Talking to my hostess, she claimed it was a festival, but I have no idea now. Oh well, whatever – what it all underscores is that Africans know how to party.

After witnessing bits and pieces of the African funeral (primarily the celebration and dancing, and believe me, it’s loud and it goes on for a long time), I do wonder why Christian funerals aren’t more like this in other countries. When talking to people, even the widow or in one case the widower, they are sad that their mate has moved on, and that loss translates pretty well across cultures. However, they also expressed a desire to celebrate the life of that person, to celebrate the good deeds they did and to show appreciation that they got to at least have some enjoyment in life. One of them was also quite poignant in saying that they’re going to Heaven, so why wouldn’t it be a time to celebrate for them? And, in thinking about it from a Christian perspective, that really is true. If you believe that being Christian will ultimately lead you to Heaven, why is a Christian funeral in Canada (or other like nations) such a solemn occasion? Sure, there should be reflection, regret at not being able to say what you want to. However, if you really do believe in that kind of afterlife, that should really give way to wanting to celebrate for that other person, since well, while life may be good, Christianity really emphasizes that the afterlife in Heaven is so much better. Also, weeping because you feel alone sort of makes no sense as a Christian, primarily because being selfish doesn’t (in my opinion) seem to ever reconcile with most Christian teachings. Oh well, theologians can probably tell me where I’m wrong, but I think the Africans really have it right – celebrate a funeral, rather than mourn it, particularly if you believe in that kind of afterlife awaiting you. I want to bring some photos back of a funeral sometime – I used to be unsure if they were inappropriate, but when people were disappointed that I didn’t bring my camera, I now know better (though I’m still going to ask permission).

Sunday I didn’t do much, except I went to church, which was interesting, though three and a half hours in a dress shirt and black pants, in thirty degree weather with high humidity, somehow sitting in the one part of the church where the fan doesn’t hit, really makes for a decent trial when one used to play with school friends outside in a T-shirt during a blizzard at minus thirty. To get to see such an animated church with such a pluralistic method of accessibility (the service itself was conducted in Twi and English, hymns included elements of English, Twi and Ga, and there was a pre-service Bible class that had English, Twi and Ga sections as well) was very much amazing – in many ways, it did represent what I did expect of church (particularly since I have seen many churches that segment into cliquish groups, which sort of contradicts the whole purpose of a group worship in my opinion… and yes, for an agnostic, I seem to have a lot of opinions out of the blue, don’t I?). However, what I found really interesting in church was what kind of indoctrination was going on, and the mechanisms they used. For instance, the sermon was about how this given church (I think it was Baptist? It called itself Church of God, so I’m not totally sure) did not evangelize enough, even though the ministers were being called to various regions of Ghana to ‘talk to the heathens’ and whatnot, which really rankled me, particularly when they had done so much to try and include people of all groups. Then, after being introduced as a “new brother” (um… yay?), I got escorted outside to meet Ishmael, a senior member of the church. He was nice enough, though I get the sense he was trying to shame me into renouncing my “church” (I did *not* want the full grilling experience so I just tried to be as nondescript in claiming that I went to a United church and was baptized) by describing “different” procedures and then going into painstaking detail to say that they were actually required by the Bible (and, not being a Bible scholar myself, I decided for once to keep my mouth shut). While most of it was some kind of strict procedure, what I really thought was interesting was when he mentioned why women were not allowed to preach or be part of the church governing body. Citing some section of the Bible, he stated that women were to “watch men as men proceeded to discuss the matters of the church; they were to stand in modest clothing…” and so forth. Now, why this is interesting to me is in how I think it might tie into the DVA in Ghana. First off, when the DVA was introduced, there was no section describing a need to reiterate “marital reconciliation” by the judge, but that was then included after strong lobbying by Christians. While I can see the inherent merit in patching up a marriage in the face of a trivial dispute, people who bring complaints of domestic violence are very rarely bringing any issue of trivial import to court. To even bring a complaint could result in a woman’s social stigmatization, which often happens in Canada, so why would people bring trivial arguments to court with that in mind? And while the legislative history is interesting (at least, to me it is), what I think is more interesting is to see just how many Christian women would be highly reluctant to bring any kind of complaint to court, no matter its severity, if they belonged to this kind of church (which, as far as I can tell, carries a view which is approximately the norm of Ghana). When religion is implicitly stating the inferior nature of a women (Ishmael of course went around citing the whole ‘Eve is made after Adam’ argument), while clearly barring women from holding theological power (and arguably, any kind of spiritual weight), could it cause a power imbalance dynamic that really results in the unwillingness of many women to bring complaints? In a way, while I think religion can be a great tool for many people, much like any other tool, if improperly used it can cut off a hand as easily as stitch it back together.

It was with a slightly different social viewpoint that I came back to work on Monday to meet with Bernice (who is probably as close to the head of WiLDAF as there’ll ever be), and got further instructions on how to go about completing my projects. What I think is interesting is that Bernice seems to have many of the same questions that I do about enforcement of the law. In the comparative law paper, one of her primary areas of focus centers on the social context of the development of domestic violence legislation and how it might help to explain the resultant variation in material between countries. I think it’s an important part to study, because in understanding how the social fabric of Africa works, it might help me in determining some reasons as to why certain programs like WiLDAF’s Legal Awareness Program are so effective and widespread. While Westerners may skip over Africa as “having not much culture” relative to other places, I think in many cases Africa has lots to teach us in terms of how complex a social structure really can become. Sure, there’s no Prado, Forbidden City or MOMA in Accra, but I hardly think you’ll see a set of more complex interactions than those that seem to play themselves out daily on the streets.

Well, that’s about it for the professional part of my work (and some of the recreation itself). I’m really thrilled because today I got to meet Natalie, a volunteer working in Accra, from Yorkshire in England. She’s about my age, and it’s through speaking to her that I think I might get a better sense of this country (as she visited Ghana three years ago) and that I think I might’ve found a kindred spirit. Many people in Ghana are great to talk to and are very welcoming, but it’s sometimes very difficult to carry on some of the conversations that I’d really want to, be it because of cultural, age or education factors. Don’t get me wrong – the tie-dye operation (where the boys work) right where I live is fascinating and I love to talk to them, and I know that there is much they can teach me, but sometimes whilst realizing that we are all people, and that there really is no cultural “other” unless we allow there to be, I think that it’s just helpful to be with someone I feel I can identify with more readily at this point in time.

Oh! Let’s see… what else. I should really talk about food in my other blog soon. Well, I’ll make sure to start writing that entry soon. I find it really entertaining that Lonely Planet’s most expensive restaurant in Accra is a Chinese one that serves dim sum. I’m almost tempted to march in there one day and demand ku gua (bitter melon) as well as Buddha jumps over the wall, on the spot. Though, I do wonder if there is a place that makes xialongbao around here? I’ll find out!

O chee-na! (in Twi, that means ‘until tomorrow’… though I guess it’d be until my next entry) And medase! (‘thank you’, in Twi).

Ghana! (first few days)

Well, I landed in Accra at ~6PM here (which corresponds to 11AM PST, or 2PM EST) on Sunday. True to form, the weather was humid, it was raining a bit, but... it wasn't 30C like everyone was saying it would be. No, it was more around the 20, maybe 25C mark - it felt a bit like one of those uncommonly humid days that Vancouver has had this past summer.

Where I'm staying is a little cramped and there is running water, though clean potable water is clearly a commodity in this country. I'm very glad I took Dukoral (cholera/traveller's diarrhea vaccine) and have anti-malarials before entering this country, because even though I haven't had street food, I haven't had any problems so far. However, it's just the start of what promises to be both an exciting and wearying trip.

On Monday, I met up with people in the WiLDAF office, particularly Ama, the legal officer in charge of the Legal Awareness Program, and Patricia, the administrative head of the general organization. Upon my arrival, I received a more detailed description of many of my jobs in Ghana, which is helpful, but was somewhat daunting-looking at first since it included a few tasks I wasn't aware of. Overall, my task list was better defined and included the following duties:

1) Review of previous Court Watch programs (CWPs)/program components and creation/implementation of a CWP:

In Ghana, the beginnings of a CWP have already been put in place: the Northern region of Ghana (Accra, the capital, is in the ~south-southeast, right next to the coast) recently had a large survey of the justice system with respect to domestic violence. Interviews of magistrates, lawyers, some willing complainants, and surveys of courts monitoring DV occurred. My role is going to be basically integrating some of the results and issues of the Ghanaian approach with the program as conducted by METRAC to fashion a more systematic method of intake and study. I will thus be responsible for drating up a process and court watch survey document for future volunteers to use (and, if time is willing, creation of an easy-access database to store and add further comments to).

This work is very interesting. The judicial examination that was carried out in Ghana will involve many more variables than would usually be looked out for in Canada. As in Canada, much of the emphasis will involve a complainant-centered approach, primarily on trying to see court from the complainant's point of view. Does it look fair to them? Does it try to encourage them to speak? How does the structure of proceedings vary with that in Canada, and what potential effects might this have?

For instance, s.24 of the Ghanaian DVA states that if the charge of violence involves an offense which does not "require" a sentence of more than 2 years, the complainant can ask to rescind the charge and settle out of court, or the Court can refer it to ADR with the complainant's consent. Out-of-court settlement is also accompanied by additional counseling resources. The section specifically calls itself "Court to promote reconciliation", which Canada (to my knowledge) does not specifically include in the Criminal Code (and no specific DVA with respect to criminal offenses exists). Does this kind of section actually give procedural bias and an implicit attempt to coerce the sides into settling, which may then also decrease the complainant's ease in speaking at court? Also, note that the court can ask the complainant instead of the complainant always needing to approach the court - does that mean that the court unintentionally will pressure clients into settling? Finally, note that this is for any crime not "requiring" a sentence of 2 years, but as we know many offenses have a wide range of potential sentences. Will the complainant still decide to settle, if the crime fits in that category of not always needing >2 years but perhaps in this case the judge, after hearing the facts, would sentence someone to 2+ years? And if so, does that really accomplish the ideal mandate of the section (which seems to be that if the offense isn't severe enough, a relationship might not be worth sacrificing in the interests of "justice")? This section, in itself, reveals one of the procedural complexities Ghanaians have to think about when considering their DVA, which Canada does not address specifically.

2) A comparative law paper detailing the features of the DVAs of Ghana, Uganda and South Africa in particular; challenges they faced in implementation and outcomes resultant from legislation:

This paper is likely going to be tailored further with the arrival of the senior lawyer, Berniece Sam, from tomorrow onwards (since she’s currently at the Aid Effectiveness conference, which I’ll probably post on a bit later), but per talking to Ama and Patricia I got the sense that they wanted to look at these legislations with respect to social response, the resultant changes in litigation/criminal charges, and trying to draw comparative differences between the countries and an idea of where they might originate from (be it social, statutory or parallel legislation from which these effects result). They also wanted to see what challenges each society faced with implementation (for instance, the initial advocated DVA by WiLDAF included an explicit section characterizing marital rape as an offense, which was then dropped as opponents continually pointed to that one section as being disruptive to the potential harmony of the family) and finally, what positive components could be drawn from each separate piece of legislation.

This will be an interesting side-by-side comparison because all countries are in various stages of development, are Commonwealth countries, have different approaches to relationships in general (for instance, South Africa is so liberal as to legalize gay marriage; Ghana is more conservative and outlaws homosexuality, and Uganda I don’t really know that much about for now). They are probably the closest in respective development to each other, though, so the focus on these countries is understandable.

I think it will be interesting to see how the legislation of these countries mirrors their international commitments (primarily UNHCR resolutions adopted by the countries), and how the international community and/or history has helped to influence their current formation (for instance, I would suspect that the path South Africa took post-apartheid had a significant role in influencing its current approach to equality and gender parity initiatives). Perhaps, if I have the chance, I would like to include countries like Mauritius (which also use a DVA, but are civil law in nature) or Canada (no DVA, but has certain sections in the Criminal code outlining domestic abuse) into the comparative mix with a more statute/effect/challenges-faced comparison and less of an implementation comparison.

3) Review of WiLDAF legal intake forms, comparison with models supplied by METRAC, and subsequent drafting of new WiLDAF forms and (potentially) a database for storage:

I am going to try to speak to WiLDAF’s legal intake officers later in order to get a better sense of what’s going on, but from what Ama and Patricia tell me there is a lot of difficulty in trying to keep sense of all the data they obtain. Thus, my role seems to include streamlining the intake forms and make a few input tools which will make it easier for storage to occur.

This could be interesting, since I have some knowledge of how to work Microsoft Access (database-creating software), but I don’t remember all too much after making a database. I do have a decent framework to start from, though, because I previously made a database of this sort when doing summer work for Megan Ellis, a family lawyer who specialized in sexual assault litigation.

I think the forms that METRAC gave me (from a women’s services centre, and a legal aid clinic in Toronto) will be very helpful in streamlining the process (one included a second sheet which I think is useful, as it looks a bit like a doctor’s day sheet which certainly helps to simplify their work), but I want to talk more to the WiLDAF officers to get a sense of what issues they consider as important when interviewing clients. There are likely some specific issues that will translate over cultures, but much like how the DVA in Ghana has some major differences from Canadian approaches, the same likely exists in trying to analyze the legal issues incoming into a Ghanaian legal office.

4) Discussing with WiLDAF and associated organizations on Ghanaian approaches to family law, and areas of intersection to criminal law with respect to violence against women:

This is for METRAC, but I’m not exactly sure what they want at this point and so will need to clear this up with Zahra. For instance, there is specific reference to the Ghanaian Criminal Code through s.23 of the DVA, but I’m not sure how much further they want me to go in exploration. It seems like I would get some information through writing the comparative law paper, but I think there must be certain things they want in greater detail with respect to family law (consensual unions, the unique provision detailing the court’s goal to promote reconciliation, ?) .

5) Engaging METRAC and WiLDAF in discussions on anti-oppression and initiatives that can include men to try and achieve gender equality and in addressing violence against women:

For now, this is on hold, but if it goes through I think it’s going to be very entertaining from my perspective. Personally, I’m sort of skeptical about the whole idea of attaining a ‘universal equality’, because I think equality can only be dictated from one person’s perspective. For instance, people might look at the legal culture and say that there is equality which states that greater tenure and more productivity will increase one’s chances to attain partnership. However, others then argue that the culture itself needs to be changed because there may be cultural, religious or even biological factors that limit people from attaining this ideal without greater sacrifice than others (for instance, women, in going to raise children, face the prospect of having to give up their chance at a promotion because current legal culture seems to value the amount of time spent at work rather than what is accomplished, and women’s time is at a premium particularly during the primary maternity years). And of course, if initiatives are started, people might then argue that you are being procedurally unequal again. Thus, while I agree there are ways to get closer to either procedural or substantive equality in many cases, it is rare (if not impossible) to find situations where you can achieve both. Of course, that’s the cynic in me talking, and perhaps I’m wrong – I’d be very happy to find out that I am.

6) Learn more about WiLDAF’s Legal Access Program and contrast its approach to that of METRAC’s, making a future presentation

What this approach illustrates is that unlike previous “aid” missions to Africa, there is a growing realization that many approaches other cultures take to certain problems may be helpful to North American approaches. For instance, while I previously raised concerns about the idea of promoting reconciliation through the DVA, I also think there is a definite merit in having a stable structure such as the nuclear family and that a more pro-active approach might be useful in many cases in Canadian courts (not just restricted to this issue, mind you). I also think that many other cultures tend to have stronger dispute resolution mechanisms as well: in North America, litigation is seen as the gold standard for resolving disputes, but it also can result in future problems when trying to maintain relationships, be they personal or business. Other cultures, in employing social authority figures, mediation, or other alternative dispute resolution schemes, take the approach that a problem often is more representative of society as a whole rather than isolated between two individuals, and thus a solution might be most ideal if society is allowed to participate in the process of trying to find one. The idea of a final arbiter isn’t foreign in many cultures, but unlike North America they see it less as an ideal to strive towards, which I think many North Americans could benefit from in many conflicts that do end up going to court.

So far, there have been many discussions between myself and Zahra concerning the differences in Western society and others, and one thing that I think is very interesting is how much community is involved in WiLDAF procedures. From previous talks with other volunteers in Africa, I have the sense that community coalesces much more quickly in Africa than it does in North America. There is a bigger sense of a problem not being confined to the individual but to society in general, sparking more response at various levels. In North America, unless it happens within our four corners, we tend not to actually respond to things, and even if it does it often is hard to inspire others to be as involved as we become (a grand example being politics). Thus, comparing METRAC and WiLDAF procedures will be interesting but I think trying to put WiLDAF strategies into action in North America will require much tailoring, if only to try and galvanize the population to act in a certain direction.

That’s just some of the things I will be doing. I can’t wait!

Speaking of the aid conference: there are many Ghanaians that visit my host family (particularly since she is a merchant, and also because her daughter operates a small fabric-making operation on the premises) and so I get to talk to people of a variety of perspectives, but they all have a much stronger Ghana (and probably in many cases, African) viewpoint than I have. What they continually articulate about the aid conference is that they do hope aid will continue, but unlike the perspective many people may gain about the lazy African, these people are educated and beyond that, highly driven to succeed. They are highly self-dependent and they realize that while aid can help, it is mostly to the individual to succeed, though there is a great deal of skepticism that they can actually achieve true heights. This is because while there is aid, there weren’t any actual financial institutions that would help to inspire saving and in the end, potentially be the engine for growth.

There are no social safety nets that really exist in Africa, and so to even survive the amount of work one has to do in these cultures is significantly higher. When a Ghanaian’s average income per year is less than $2000, it makes every single dollar all the more important, and sure, some things are cheaper in Ghana but many things are not. Furthermore, trying to start up operations tends to be difficult because of the high interest rates charged on lending (either high amounts of securities need to be guaranteed, or a standard prime lending rate is 19%, which even outscores my Visa’s interest rates), which means that people end up having to depend on each other to borrow money (and when everyone doesn’t have that much they can save up, just how easily is it to incentivize saving? We all know bank rates for saving are terrible, anyway). Finally, financial education and institutions are starting to arrive (stock offerings, funds, etc) but that will take a very long time to diffuse into Africa, where many times the rate of inflation will far outstrip even the modest average return rates on many securities (thus, making saving relatively pointless from an economic perspective). The West has every right, they agree, to prioritize their aid funds and to put conditions on how things are to be spent – they also realize and agree that foreign investment needs guarantees that there will actually be returns in the country. However, the main argument they advance is that much of the time, the West’s agenda in aid is slanted, if not outright biased in trying to suppress the ability of Africans – to devote the money to certain sectors and not others, to put it into certain initiatives and not those which, ideally, would be the best ways to incentivize growth within the country.

Thinking about it, it does make sense – Africans have to live with the conditions, so in many ways they are the ones who will be best sensitized to the problems. Do we really expect our politicians to really be that well-sensitized to the problems of other nations? Heck, they’re bad at figuring out our own! Also, incentivizing growth is a tricky business because by its definition, ‘aid’ is present to help the worst-off in a global sense: if one sees this and decides to continue and try to receive aid, what kind of incentives are there to actually improve the situation of their country? In Ghana, there has been stability and thus people are becoming bolder in asking questions and demanding accountability, but even here there is great cynicism when walking in the streets lined with open sewers, with people who are in the minor stages of malnutrition, even in the capital city, and watching weird cavalcades of limos, SUVs and other high-income vehicles pass by. Corruption is such an endemic problem that there should be greater incentive to eradicate that – perhaps, the rewards via aid should be greater the more a country does perform positively, but of course that also opens its own Pandora’s box of problems. Thus, such a problem is multi-headed and I seriously doubt it’ll be solved in this conference, if ever.

Thinking about the conference, I really wish I’d had more of a chance to talk to Ann Veneman (the current head of UNICEF). It was very odd, since I was half sleep-deprived and sitting in the Frankfurt airport lounge, and then to just randomly strike up a conversation to the woman next to me, to find out that I’m sitting next to a keynote speaker for this conference. I’m quite mad that I didn’t think to ask for a card, or some way to keep in contact, because she did seem somewhat interested in what I was doing and what I had done in the past as a TA/student researcher with respect to malnutrition and its political roots. However, it was impressive to see her speak in such an informal setting, since even then Ms. Veneman comported herself with a good deal of poise and dignity, almost as if a diplomatic stance was her default setting. She was very quiet and didn’t talk much about herself – I think in many ways, to really be able to have a lasting effect in one’s deeds, one needs to think about what they do before acting. It seems to be a common quality in many of these dignitaries that myself and my friends have run into at random instances (Gen. Romeo Dallaire, Kofi Annan, etc). As it is, I wish Ms. Veneman the best of luck (even though I have no idea what her policies were like as Agricultural Secretary in W’s administration in 2001) and can’t wait to meet Berniece to find out how the conference went.

Well, that’s it for now, I guess – perhaps not all, since there is a chance that I can end up working with Transparency International in Ghana while I’m here. However, I’ll have more on that when further details become known! Heck, I still have yet to read everything he gave me (but I got through one third so far! So… go me?)

Until the next time! (geez, what a long post...)