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).