The world according to me

Quite often being free means being free to do whatever you want given that you can afford the bribes. You can litter, build a house without a permit, and drive cars that would be sent to the dump in every other corner of the world. You are free.

Maybe this seems like a cynical summary, but than I’m not Ghanaian. So what do you expect? My negative preconceptions were seemingly affirmed when Ghanaian government banned an International Conference on Gay and Lesbian Rights that was to be held in Accra in September. The official declaration by the Information Minister Kwamena Bartels was straight forward. He said homosexual practices were illegal in Ghana and would “violently offend the culture, morality and heritage of the entire people of Ghana”. I read the press statement when I went for a chat with someone in the German embassy. The lady said, they had sent the press release to the headquarters in Berlin without any comment. What could you probably add to phrases like, "Unnatural carnal knowledge is illegal under our criminal code. Homosexuality, lesbianism and bestiality are therefore offences under the laws of Ghana.".

The clamp down made the conference a headline and people were debating homosexuality and gay rights 24/7 on TV, in radio shows and on the streets. Here is one example out of many articles published during the time: Our culture will not be sold out for gay lifestyles. Mind you, this is a moderate one. Basically, people said, if they want to do it, they should go outside the country. Most people were arguing from a religious or traditional perspective saying things like ‘Ghanaian men don’t sleep with other men’ or ‘God created Adam and Eve for a reason’. The more elaborate among the commentators highlighted Ghana’s AIDS problem saying that gay men are the most vulnerable and that Ghana was becoming a destination for gay sex tourism.

That is the background, now comes the catch. Everyone I spoke to condemns homosexuality, still Accra has quite a number of gay bars and they are not hiding. Jones, a Ghanaian, took me out to Henri’s Palace. I had met him weeks ago at a party on Oxford Street in Osu, the nightlife area of Accra. Weeks later I saw him again, this time with his girlfriend. She was called Beauty, which wasn’t all that wrong. That night the girl was drinking like a fish and hitting on every guy around. Jones didn’t seem to care. They broke up later. My guess is that she was just a cover up.

Anyway, back to Henri’s Palace. We were sitting on the street, drinking and talking. Some details seemed odd, but I didn’t get the picture straight away. There were no women, but it was around 9 pm and most drinking spots are crowded by men anyway. One guy was dancing in a very sexy, female kind of style. But Ghanaians love to dance and some of their movements look like pure sex. There was this one Arabic looking guy with a tiny, tiny shirt that barely covered his breast. But it wasn’t until, I stepped inside the club that the picture became clear. Just men, for sure, and they were smoking, very rare in Ghana. Some of them were slim, wearing tight fitting jeans and fancy T-Shirts. Others looked like well established businessmen who came to flee reality, a wife, and three kids. On the walls were black and white shots of Hollywood stars and an Audrey Hepburn poster. A sign was saying ‘Poppers available here 80.000 Cedis”. I felt like being somewhere in Berlin or London.

That’s Ghana for you - another Ghanaian saying whenever things turn out to be slightly different from what you had expected. And I think this is very telling of how Ghanaians go about their business. Maintain a high profile in public, do what pleases you in private. My friend Jones is a perfect example. Somehow he is living a gay life and somehow he is still holding on to the idea of marrying and having a family. Must be difficult to be torn apart like this. But this is Accra for you, a strange mixture of modern globalized life and old rites and believes.

# posted by Thilo @ 11:00 AM 0 comments

Consultation came in for about 150.000 Cedis, that is approximately 18 Dollars, maybe 13 Euros. The drugs were about the same amount. Last time, when I came down with Malaria, I had to spend about 1.5 Million Cedis. 130 Euros for three days in hospital, food, drugs and 24-7 care.

While all this seems like petty amounts of money, it is quite a lot when you compare it to average Ghanaian wages. A teacher might earn two to four million a month, a journalist a bit less. Falling sick is a very costly thing for them. A carrier boy working in the markets in town makes about 30.000 Cedis a day, barely four dollars. If he falls sick, he either has to rely on family, get through without any help or die.

There is of course free treatment for the needy in some hospitals, even in the country side. But the drugs, you have to pay for. When you get a disease like Malaria that means you are in for a hard time. The test is simple and inexpensive; it is whether or not you take the medication prescribed that makes the difference. Or let’s say it like this, whether you can afford to take it.

True, a number of Ghanaians have developed a partial resistance to the parasite. They still get it, but it is like a severe flue. They vomit, they have fever and all, but they don’t succumb to it.

Still, Malaria is the number one killer in Africa. More than a million people a year perish; it is more deadly than AIDS if you wish. The ones that die are the new born, the sick, the malnourished – all those that don’t have enough resilience to fight the disease. They die. Just like this.

Since I had Malaria, I can more easily detect if someone suffers from it. With Malaria comes a very special sort of apathy, a feeling of freezing to death even in the blazing midday sun, dazzling headaches.

Being aware of this is like going through town and seeing things you are used to but all of sudden they have a new meaning. Why is this beggar not begging anymore, just hanging around staring into the void? Why would some sleep in the full tropical sun wearing thick woolen clothes? Than you get paranoid. You see it everywhere. How can these people live with such a thread? But you get used to it. That is the way of the world, just another plague to be dealt with.

In a book I read something that was maybe meant as a tranquillizer, but it didn’t make me feel too comfortable. The author said that as long as HIV, the AIDS-Virus, does not survive inside a mosquito, things aren’t that bad for Africa.

# posted by Thilo @ 3:02 PM 0 comments

Still, his story is different from that of most other African dictators. First of all, most people here would probably not call him a dictator, even if enough atrocities had been committed during his reign. But most significantly, he was one of the few dictators who more or less voluntarily handed over power.

Well, that sounds a bit too positive. Let me set it straight. After about nine years in office as military commander, he managed to win general elections, not without some cheating though. I don’t know if his popularity and the power of his party might have even been enough to win him the Presidency on fair grounds. Some say yes, others deny it. But he won and he was reelected after a four years term.

According to the Ghanaian constitution, inaugurated under his chairmanship, there are just two terms in office for a Ghanaian President. So he did the surprising thing and stepped back. His successors never enjoyed his popularity and the opposition leader won the race.

So, now I’m going to interview him and I have no clue where to start. I mean, how do you interview an ex-dictator turned good-guy without complacency, but still polite enough to make him answer your questions? And what do I ask? Why the atrocities, the killing and the lawless period after taking power?

Does it even make sense to talk with him? Maybe he would just keep on propagating his point of view and I get all messed up. Plus, I can’t get the other guy on the phone, Kwame Pianim, now a successful business man, but under Rawlings a long term prison inmate.

People told me, Pianim might have won against Rawlings during the first elections in 1992, even under unfair conditions. He was some kind of martyr for many, a political prisoner so charismatic that he kept on rallying people around him, even in jail. But the Supreme Court declared him ineligible, because of his prison time. Very cheesy.

Labels: rawlings

# posted by Thilo @ 12:37 PM 0 comments

Meet the Reptile Redeemer or A day with the Alligator Angel

The crocodile was about two and a half meters long, and even though the man wasn’t of small built it easily outstripped him. By the time he had sneaked up from behind, we had all stepped back from the scene.

The massive reptile was kept from plunging back into the muddy pool by an iron wire slung around its broad neck. It had been fighting hard, but seemed exhausted by now. A young local was holding on to the cable looking half scared, half proud of his bravery. His force kept the reptile from escaping, but if it would change its mind and charge instead of retreating, the young man would be in for a hard time. None of the two seemed aware of this possibility.

The noises of the fight had attracted a small crowd. While man and crocodile had fought, they were busy commenting and arguing whether it was reasonable or outright lunatic to try to catch a crocodile alive. With time passing both crocodile and crowd had grown tired of the spectacle and now, as the hunter was standing right behind the big animal, silence was surrounding the scene.

Was he waiting for a special moment or just fighting his own doubts? After a long moment of silence he leaped forward and landed on the back of the big reptile. His weighed nailed it down to the ground; his big hands holding its mouth shut. There was no fight. The crocodile seemed as surprised as the crowd. It looked ridiculously simple, just like catching chicken in the backyard.

“It isn’t”, Matthew told me later. “If you don’t know exactly what you are doing, it can be very dangerous, both for you and for the crocodile.” Matthew Shirley knew what he was talking about. The young crocodile biologist had been in Ghana since June catching dozens of crocodiles. He wasn’t in for the meat or the thrill, though. Even if it was a good show, this was serious science.

Matthew came to Ghana to discover a new species of crocodiles. Africa is known to host three species of crocodiles, the most famous and the most feared among them being the Nile crocodile. Current knowledge has it that the Nile croc can be found in East, South and West Africa. But Matthew believes that what in Ghana is commonly referred to as the Nile crocodiles is in fact something altogether different.

The men-eater, as the Nile crocodile is sometimes called, is said to grow up to a size of six meters and to cause a higher death toll among humans than all other crocodile species combined. Ghanaian ‘Nile crocodiles’, in turn, don’t exceed 3.5 meters and rarely ever kill humans. “Even if they look quite similar to Nile Crocodiles in Eastern and Southern Africa, they are smaller, less aggressive and they live in a totally different habitat”, he told me.

It was for this reason that he was going all over Ghana and parts of La Côte d’Ivoire looking for wild crocodiles and taking blood samples. He is convinced that once scientists would have gathered enough probes, they would be able to analyze the DNA and show that Ghana and parts of West Africa were actually host to a species of reptiles do far unknown.

Unfortunately, this species would be endangered right from the start of its official life. Natural habitats all over West Africa are vanishing due to increasing human settlements, pollution and over fishing, Matthew says. “As we speak, crocodiles have come extinct in many places. But while scientists are sure that West and Central Africa are the priority areas in the world for crocodile conservation action, it is Ghana and parts of Cote d’Ivoire that still have a population worth speaking of”, he said.

Matthew’s believes that if there is a way to preserve this new species, it must be done in Ghana. “The people here are in a unique position to ensure the future of crocodiles because of their well established conservation ethic and protected areas network. Ghana will be a major player in this conservation movement in the coming years. And so far, the people from the Ghana Wildlife Division and the Faculty of Renewable Natural Resources at KNUST are very excited and supportive of that, and should be commended for helping to initiate this important first step.”

In the beginning of his research project, he had just intended to go out for crocodiles. But when he saw that in traditional crocodile breeding grounds like the Digya National Park along Lake Volta crocodiles were virtually extinct, he also started some conservation exercises.

In order to train future zoologists capable of studying and preserving Ghana’s shrinking croc population, he initiated various training workshops at the Universities of Ghana in Legon and the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology (KNUST) in Kumasi for future Ghanaian croc biologists showing them on how to catch, handle and protect the ancient creatures and prevent their extinction.

Ghanaians, he said, had to understand that crocodiles presented a huge opportunity. For one, tourists were attracted by the prospect of seeing them in the wild. On the other hand, crocodile farms would represent an interesting business venture. Crocodile leather could be used for all kinds of luxury goods like handbags, shoes or expensive briefcases. Their flesh was nutritious and could be sold at high prices.

“Currently, biologists at KNUST are trying to build up a croc farm at the outskirts of Kumasi. The place could be valuable for scientists, too. You can study them easily, train young biologists on how to handle them and even breed young ones to be released in their original habitats”, Matthew told me.

The crocodile Matthew had caught when I fist met him at Hans Cottage in Cape Coast, was a living proof for his vision of humans and crocodiles peacefully sharing a habitat. After the initial shock of being captured and robed of some of its blood, it slipped back into the huge man made pool and was being seen sunbathing a few hours later - very much to the delight of the tourists who had come all the way from Cape Coast to see one of Ghana’s most fascinating animals, alive.

# posted by Thilo @ 10:15 PM 0 comments

Kurz vor sechs klingelt der Wecker. Um die Uhrzeit ist die Dusche noch ziemlich kalt, die Sonne braucht ein paar Stunden, um den großen schwarzen Plastiktank auf dem Dach aufzuheizen. Mir ist kalt. Die Schaben haben das gleiche Problem. Frühmorgens lassen sie sich ohne große Gegenwehr erschlagen.

Zum Frühstück gibt es Porridge, jeden morgen eine andere Sorte. Süß-klebriger Reisporridge, grober dunkler Haferporridge, vergoren-süßer Maisporridge und, wenn ich selbst kochen muss, Instantporridge. Dann raus auf die Hauptstraße, umständlich eine Sammeltaxe angehalten und zur wichtigsten Vorort-Kreuzung. Von hier sind es noch 20 Kilometer zur Arbeit, macht an guten Tagen eine Stunde im Trotro-Bus, an schlechten zwei.

Die beiden zentralen Zufahrtsstraßen sind seit halb sieben Uhr morgens zu, ich bin ja nicht der einzige, der zur Arbeit will. Wir nehmen die Bush Road. Der Name sagt alles. An Regentagen geht es durch Schlaglochteiche und Schlammrinnen. Ab und an bleibt ein Minibus im Schlamm stecken. Im Vorbeifahren sehen sie aus wie modernes Großwild. Ansonst wird in Trotros meist geschlafen. Morgens genießen die Leute die letzten ruhigen Minuten, abends sind sie geschafft vom großen Mahlstein Accra.

Kurz vor dem Ziel bleiben wir im Circle stecken. Die Idee vor dem Industriegbiet einen Kreisverkehr zu bauen, war gut gemeint, stammt aber aus einer Zeit als die meisten Trotros in Accra noch aus Holz waren. Das gemeine an diesem letzten Stau ist das moralische Dilemma. Zu Fuß brauche ich von hier etwa 20 Minuten durch Hektik, Schmutz und tausende von Menschen. Bleibe ich sitzen, bin ich in 30 Minuten im Büro. Meistens bleibe ich sitzen.

Dann arbeiten und abends zurück, so ziemlich das gleiche Spiel. Insgesamt verbringe ich vier Stunden im Trotro, ohne Klimaanlage, mit viel Staub und Abgasen. Abends esse ich noch einen Teller ghanaische Vollkost und falle ins Bett wie der Wolf in den Brunnen.

So sah das einen Monat lang aus. Mir hat’s gereicht. Ich bin einfach ein Weichei. Ich finde ja schon den Alltag der Leute hart, die einen Grund haben jeden Tag in diesen Moloch zu pilgern. Wie es ist, ohne Job und Geld in Accra zu leben, will ich gar nicht ausprobieren.

„In den Vororten wohnt die Depression“, skypt mir eine Freundin. Sie hat Recht. An einem Samstagmorgen verabschiede ich mich von meiner unglaublich netten Vorort-Gastfamilie. Alle sind gerührt und sorgen sich um mich. Man hat mir erzählt, in Accra wäre das Risiko überfallen zu werden höher als hier in Sakumono. Aber morgen ist Sonntag und ich will nicht in die Kirche, ich will ausschlafen.

Seitdem ist mein Alltag süß, wie man hier sagt. Kurz nach sieben klingelt mein Wecker, eine halbe Stunde später stehe ich auf. Das Wasser ist dann schon ein, zwei Grad wärmer. Und eigentlich habe ich ja nichts gegen Schaben. Mit dem Trotro brauche ich eine viertel Stunde bis zum Stau am Circle. Sobald wir stehen, steige ich aus dem Bus und spaziere zehn Minuten zu einem wackeligen Holzstand an der Straße. Da ich jetzt nicht mehr zum Büro hetze, fiel mir im Vorbeigehen die schwarze Espressomaschine auf. Die Herren hinter der Theke stammen aus Burkina Faso und servieren echten Kaffee, nicht dieses Instantzeug, dass man sonst überall bekommt. Wir schwatzen etwas und dann schlendere ich weiter zur Redaktion.

Abends gehe ich zur Tawala Bar, einem Holzschuppen am Strand, fünf Minuten hinter unserem Haus. Ich bestelle gebratenen Reis und Huhn. Die Entscheidung wird mir leicht gemacht, Guerrisons Frau macht den besten gebratenen Reis der Stadt. Wen ich Abwechslung will, bestelle ich Huhn mit Reis. Die Sonnenuntergänge sind sehr romantisch und tauchen die Armut rundherum in bunte Farben. Ich persönlich finde aber die Mondnächte am besten. Dann haben selbst die Müllberge am Strand etwas mystisches. Und den Rest sieht man nicht mehr. So ist mein Alltag in Accra, eben fast wie zu Hause. Alles eine Frage des Blickwinkels.

Labels: Accra

# posted by Thilo @ 10:10 PM 0 comments

I just had to take this picture. I was standing in front of the Ghanaian Times office chatting with a colleague when these two guys came by pushing a totally fucked up car to some place where they could repair it or sell it or whatsoever.
The scene was somehow funny. The street was really busy, cars rushing and honking and all and then this anachronism. But when I started taking pictures, they got really angry. The guy on the left is yelling something at me. I guess it was 'Stop it or I'm gonna spoil your camera.' Meaning he would destroy it.

Before coming to Ghana, I had heard that many people don't want their picture to be taken. The book said that was mostly due to religious or spiritual reasons. Some people, the book read, where afraid that taking their picture would also rob them of their soul. Humbug, if you ask me. Even in the small hamlets, people know that a camera is a camera and that's it. Sure, Moslems aren't so keen on been snapped, but that's due to the Koran and not to any fears of loosing their souls.

The reason most people get all worked up when you single them out with your camera is that they are sick of bad press. Just one example, a few weeks ago, I was strolling around the Kumasi Central Market, according to some sources the biggest market in West Africa and by all means a huge place. It is unbelievable crowded, noisy and also quite chaotic and at times disgusting. While I stopped at a stall to buy some water, I noticed an old German newspaper laying around on one of the tables. The owner was obviously using it to wrap the goods he was selling. I found it funny to find Die Frankfurter Allgemeine Sonntagszeitung at this very place and took out my camera. But there was no way, I could have taken that picture. The owner was fervently refusing my wish. He was so stubborn about it that I got somehow worked up, too. I mean what was so bad about taking a picture of this damn newspaper? I kept on bothering him and finally he told me that he wouldn't allow it because I would only go back home and use the picture to make fun of Ghanaians and depicture them like barbarians, practically animals living in poverty and ignorance. I was dumbstruck. Even if I would have liked to do so, how on earth could the simple picture of a German newspaper help me to ridicule Ghana? But there was no arguing with him. In the end I gave up, but not without delivering one final lecture about that there are also good people in Europe and that it was a sign of intolerance and even racism to accuse of all of vicious intentions.

Well, this was an extreme example. But still I'm stuck with a problem. How to deal with the bad things I do see around every day. Some people say, that Africa has had enough bad press and that there would be no sense in picking on it any longer. Instead, the good things should be highlighted to rectify the bad image Africa has and to attract tourists and investments. Others say that you have to put your finger to the wound otherwise things will never change. I can already hear some of you saying that you have to decide from case to case and that you can't generalize things. But that's not the point. Anyway, I don't feel like giving lectures on morals and all, plus the longer you inspect any given situation the harder it gets to judge. And I guess I'm already here for too long.

Thus, on the left you see the problem I face. Quite often I feel that I'm just watching things, but I'm not part of them. And whatever I will do, I will stay alien to my surroundings. So, am I in a position to tell the people down there what they should do? I don't know. Though question.

# posted by Thilo @ 1:26 PM 0 comments