Water Filter Project - Building The Mould

To start building the water filter mould, I went on a scouting trip to Effiduasi, the nearest town. There I asked construction material shop-keepers for a welder, and luckily enough found a workshop nearby. Through the two weeks it took to transform metal plates into a steel mould, an assistant welder named Sadat was my companion. The positive impression I had from him started when he punctually met me at 5am to buy materials, and followed through his ownership presence on the project. His attention to detail applied not only to his own workmanship, but to that of his colleagues as well. More than once I saw Sadat urging another worker to stop welding, in order to re-align the plates that had been moved a few millimeters. Sadat's mostly silent presence was untrue to his friendliness, which extended to voluntarily calling to check if my transport had been late, and coming along the final twenty-minute drive from Effiduasi to Oguaa to bring the mould home.




Sadat

The first challenge of the project came before any welding had even started: buying materials. Because the metal plates were not available in the required thickness in Effiduasi, Sadat and I scheduled a trip to Kumasi. After a few hours of commuting and combing alleys of metal junkyards, we found two of the three plates for sale at a warehouse. The third one, and the thickest, was only available for eight times the size the mould required, at 280ghc. An estimation of price George, the head welder, had given me proved to not be very accurate - there were 30ghc left.

Bargaining, persistance and luck.

It was noon and the sun reflected almost blingingly on the metal waiting in front of the scrap shops. After over three sweaty hours of questioning and searching through piles of scrap metal, Sadat dug out a piece large and thick as needed. This was the third one so far, but the others had been too rusty to even consider using as a means to purifying water. Refreshingly, this one had been painted and the coating had resisted through time enough that one side was not rusted. The price was brought down to 18ghc, leaving us daringly far from an easy price on transportation back to Effiduasi.



The last plate was found under these piles.

By chance, the security guard at the first warehouse and I had talked for about ten minutes while I was waiting for the manager. When Sadat and I met him on our way to collect the plates, upon learning of our situation he called a friend of his, who after some convincing agreed to take us for the money we had left.

Every day after teaching I would drive in a "shared taxi" to Effiduasi to help (mostly watch) the progress on the mould. When I got into the car, I was usually tired enough that I would fall asleep to the wind through the jammed open windoms. Admittedly, getting to the workshop took effort. But as soon as I touched a plate or heard the prickling sound of metal being melted in welding, the feeling turned into an eagerness for creation. To witness the plates be taken from awaiting in Kumasi to a tower ready to be put to use brought a different kind of satisfaction - executing a process of concrete creation.

There were challenges unacounted for in planning. Having to cut precise measurements by chisel and hammer, and the plates not being as straight and flat as called for on the plans were two major issues we had to contour. Improvizing a little, with close supervision and strict standards, we finished the mould.

Over the next few weeks I'll keep writing about the project: how building the actual filters goes and their implementation.

All the best!

Henrique

Water Filter Project - The Idea

One of the reasons I came to Ghana was to study more about development. In the past months, however, social entrepreneurship has struck as me both a more challenging and more effective means to a similar end. I felt lucky, when halfway through my time volunteering at DAI, I learned that per company policy interns are paid a transportation stipend. I was about to receive a considerable ammount - one which I neither expected or had any need for, and decided to do something meaningful with it. The move to the village of Oguaa was about a month away, and these factors naturally combined. I began to research community projects that would be relevant to the village, while fitting the budget, time frame and level of expertise (zero).

Try googling something like "African village project" to see how many results come up. There were plenty of options to look into, from building composting latrines to new houses. Many options would live up to the "uniqueness" of a community project in a village. At first I considered building a Ventilated Improved Pit latrine (VIP), which is not only environmentally safe, it also provides fertilizer after a year of waiting (there's more to the process, naturally). My budget, however, would sufice for roughly one pit. Not exactly what could be seen as effective, as a community project or as a learning experience.

I analyzed other options, and a single kind of project stood out: bio sand water filters.
Built out of concrete, these filters use layers of sand to purify water by around 99 percent of pathogens, bacteria and viruses. Simple to operate, easy to maintain and relatively cheap, this was the project I was looking for.
In Oguaa, the school building is decadent, there is no sewage system, no running water, and the nearest clinic is fifteen minutes away. The population nonetheless is considerably healthy and prosperous - daily life poses no ever-present unbearable turbulences. What indeed should be improved in the village are mostly structural and policy issues, that need to be adressed through government action. While I was aware that borehole water was likely safe to drink (though the storage practices are not adequate), I was equally aware that with my budget I could not hope to tar the roads, install pipes or build a hospital. The fact that the experience of undertaking such a project would not be available to me in the next years of college was a deciding factor in choosing to go through with the filters.

My research sources were mainly CAWST and biosandfilter.org, two NGOs. From these I also got building plans, and combined characteristics from the two to cut down on costs and to fit the available materials.

The initial idea was to built a metal mould, so more filters could be constructed in the future. At first I thought of selling the filters as a possible income-source to the village, as the mould would remain in Oguaa after I left. However low the cost of filters, it would be an unacessible luxury to those who do not have access to clean drinking water. The project would thus involve only one mould, which would allow for the construction of 3-5 filters.

Upon arriving at the village, I sent the borehole water for testing at the Ghana Water Company laboratory in Kumasi. Fortunately, the results came as expected and proved the water is completely safe for consumption. The circumstances led to a change of direction - to take the filters to where there is a more pressing need: the north of Ghana. While I am still building the filters in Oguaa, and will give some to any resident who might need its use, the aim is to bring them to a village in the North when we go to Tamale as part of the program.

Next post I'll write about the process to build the mould, the first step on the actual project.

Take care!

Henrique

Teaching J.H.S.

Hey there, still blogging!
Before anything else: internet access living in the village is a luxury. Thus, to blog I must commute for at least thirty minutes to a place where the internet seems to be fueled by firewood...
The conditions have shown it will not be possible to maintain a once-a-week blogging pattern. I hope to write a few entries in advance, and keep the blog updated every two weeks at least.

Now, onto business...

The second half service component of the Bridge Year Program in Ghana is to teach at a local Junior High School (the equivalent to middle school). I was assigned to Senchi J.H.S., a thirty minute walk from Oguaa.
Senchi is a village bordering on town-status, with a paved main road dividing it in half. Nonetheless, the simple four-room school presents as many structural challenges as it does educational ones.

From the very first day at Senchi, the gaps were clear. Staff was generally unmotivated, to the point where teachers would not attend some of their periods claiming to be "tired", seen as justifiable by the headmaster. Management is not assisting much with indifference to teaching quality, explaining the previous year's poor results by claiming students were lazy.
The building has incomplete walls (a serious noise issue during classes), floors with gaping holes of sand, and no electricity. School supplies also add to the daily challenges of the students - books are fewer than the number required and desks are too small for many of the teenagers.

Clearly, the developmental lags would largely define the teaching experience, as they would in most public schools back home. Also, believing three months is too short of a time to expect to generate considerable academic impact, the idea of teaching led mostly to an expectation to measure and tune students' views on the importance of education and hard work. I arrived at Senchi thinking an appreciation for the power of education could change a student's life, while an extra ten percent grade wouldn't.

Within a week I became responsible for teaching 25% of the school's periods, divided amongst Forms 1 to 3, mostly English and Math, but also with Science, ICT and Library periods. Curiously enough, there is no computer, and neither could one work without electricity. There are some donated library books, which were locked in a back office. For all the academic year, not a single book had been checked out. "The students don't want to read", claimed the teachers.

Offering students the books during English periods proved to do the trick. In two days the ten storybooks I brought to school had been checked out, with waitlists forming. This was enough to convince the teachers, and a library system has been started. Though the books are not allowed to be stored in the classrooms, children accompany a teacher to the backroom and sign for a novel of their choice.
The main difference of this can be seen during "free" periods, where a handful of students now voluntarily take out their books and read. This is pleasure in learning, as opposed to doing it by fear, in a system where corporal punishment is the manner of discipline.

After a few weeks of teaching, I had to review my methods and expectations of students. While trying to instill the importance of participating in class and completing homework, I required that each individual worked up to their best effort. Though a few students were fueled by this strong demand, most didn't respond at all. These children work every day to help with their family's income. In their situation, education is an investment with very far-off dividends, while working in the family farm or selling snacks is an immediate need. I unfairly demanded that young, working teenagers focus on their schoolwork like full-time students.

I've been adapting myself according to how the students respond to daily tweaks in my teaching style - less discipline, more autonomy over homework, more playful lessons. This has been a continuous process, one that is also not immediately rewarding. Controlling noisy classes of 50 students, ages ranging from twelve to eighteen, takes absolute constant effort. If you indulge in lowering your voice, students at the back respond by sleeping. If a question is taking someone a little longer to answer, the other 49 will disperse in seconds. Interestingly enough, if you forfeit any signs of annoyance, amused laughter follows.

Teaching has nonetheless brought moments of tremendous joy, particularly one time when the Form 1 class spontaneously started cheering for themselves, after a student correctly demonstrated the significance of pi (π). Students also genuinely want to be friends with the oburoni teacher, and bring gifts of fruit, or offer company for the walk home.

This aspect, as much as the below-average performance of the school, works as a possible trap to be caught in. At the end of the day, teaching at Senchi is my work, which means the passion into it must go into improving my performance. Proving that learning can be done for fun, helping to sensitize teachers to the full range of their influence, and convincing students that a thirty percent passing-average is not nearly enough are not concrete results - they cannot be grasped or measured for daily motivation. Adjusting to the students' needs is made more difficult, for these are nearly overwhelming when compared to their age and grade. Working through the daily bumps, continuity is the main challenge.

By April, when term ends, I hope to follow-up with some success stories. However, if any effects indeed prove to be meaningful, they would be felt by the next Princeton Bridge Year student. My main goal at Senchi is not to make sure every students makes it to the next Form, but to instill in as many as possible the intrinsic motivation to fight for another two levels of education.

Back to blogging, 

Kwame

Princeton Update

Update: I sincerely apologize for the full month gap in posting. However, there will be compensations coming soon!

 

Ghanaians often pass on wisdom through proverbs and metaphors based on their folklore. Kpanlogo, a popular drum and music rhythm, is one such tradition. For three months I have learned from local master-drummers and participated in a workshop to build my own instrument. Although I had something of a musical background before, learning kpanlogo was a completely different process. In Western music, there are endless ways in which a musician can perform a style. Jazz, for example, has characteristics that define its identity, but the execution remains open for creation. Inventiveness is part of what makes a musician unique.

 

In traditional Ghanaian drumming, on the other hand, each rhythm or style has a correct order and technique. Improvisation has limited space, and even specific dance steps go with the beat. Also, there is no such thing as composing a new kpanlogo rhythm; it was created and is played with very little variation.

 

Many aspects of cultural learning follow this pattern; the process is centered on emulating the “correct way” of doing things, according to each culture. In Ghana specifically, you must eat with your right hand only, excuse yourself and greet every time you cross paths with someone, and pronounce words with the correct intonation, lest they become meaningless. As a visitor eager to be treated as a local but conscious of always being seen as a foreigner, replicating customs trumps combining them with a Western background. Thus, adapting to live as a Ghanaian has in many ways been like learning to play kpanlogo: learning and reproducing the rhythm. Following a reasonably clear set of expectations as an oburoni in Ghana, I tried as many aspects of the culture as possible – studying traditional Adinkra symbols and their meanings, sampling any local dishes (rat soup on a really brave afternoon), and elbowing as much as the next person for a spot in a trotro van during rush hour.

My approach towards service work in Accra diverged from my approach to cultural learning. The four months were split between SISS, a grassroots vocational-training NGO, and DAI – AFRICA LEAD, an agricultural development training project for leaders across sectors in West Africa. In both places I aimed to understand and tackle issues from a local perspective. The biggest challenge, however, was to deliver results despite obstacles from developmental lags. I found it more effective to work through my previously built personal expectations and ways of thinking. This led to what I believe will be a valuable perspective adjustment, a more objective analysis on poverty and on which means are most effective in dealing with it. Social entrepreneurship and development work are often under-scrutinized because of their altruistic ends, by both developed and developing nations, as if doing a good deed nullifies the obligation to execute well. Indifference to results contributes to the present inefficiency of development work. I believe the importance of the ends calls for a combination of the local understanding with inventive action.

 

In the many facets that Ghanaian and Western cultures and realities differ, music is one that holds many parallels to what I have experienced and learned in Accra. Through apparently opposing ways of thinking – liberty of creation and mirroring of traditions – Ghana has provided the stage for testing each method. I am still unsure whether the cultural aspects of this experience will influence my set of beliefs as much as the service placement has. While the daily life in Ghana has been like kpanlogo drumming, applying the experiences will be done in more of a ”blues improvisation” manner – no actual patterns to follow, just a harmony to refer to.

Oguaa Village

Hello all!

Sorry for the two-week delay - the past several days have been marked by moving out of Accra, into Kumasi, then into Oguaa, the village.

Oguaa is a small village of about 500 people, mostly farmers of cassava, plantain and cocoa. Located in the Asante Region, about an hour away from the city of Kumasi, most of the villagers are Asantes, and thus speak Twi. With limited possibilities of communicating in English, the multiple lessons at Accra are definitely paying off. Though people here are still impressed at the sight of oburonis speaking Twi, conversations are much more about daily occurrences, instead of the common "wow, you speak Twi!!" from Accra.

The friendliness of the villagers was clear from the moment we arrived. Many children ran over to our van to help carry bags, and every person standing nearby started to greet emphatically. After just over a week of living in Oguaa, calls of "oburoni" have given way to my Twi name, Kwame.

Though the lifestyle for the farmers must be a straining one, the village is in considerably positive conditions, in terms of health and sanitation. Granted, there is no running water, and pit holes are the most common toilet option (the next one being the ground itself). However, it is rare to see the conceptualized image of an "African village" - children are running happily and healthily, enough even to do as much work at home as an adult would.

As a visitor, my duties stretch to a very modest part of the so-called village life. Preparing food and washing dishes is a daily job, and a pleasant one at that (mostly preparing the food, though... I don't usually look forward to scrubbing with no running water at hand).

Also, fetching water from the village borehole is the equivalent to exercising. In the afternoon, after school hours, several children line-up around the pump, with empty buckets waiting to be carried for washing, cooking and bathing. Pumping in itself is fun, and a substitute to gym-work. The uphill walk that follows, however, is the stage where water spills all over, regardless of if you carry the bucket on your head or with your hands.

In the past few days, however, children who were late for school have been coming over to the house with buckets of water. This is their punishment - fetching water for their teachers.

Pounding palm nuts and fufu (a mixture of cassava and plantain), as well as assisting in weeding the farm with a machete are some examples of less regular physical activities. Though less frequent, they were already enough to make my hands worthy of an actual worker at Oguaa.

 
At night, about twenty children invariably show up at our compound, either with homework questions or just wanting to play. By now, tutoring has become a regular appointment for many, one that complements teaching at local Junior High Schools (7th-9th grades). This will be better covered on the next post, though.

Especially on weekends, we have learned and taught several songs and games. My personal favorite has been teaching some of the children (the coolest ones) how to play basic rhythms on my kpanlogo drum.

Last Sunday, some of the children started a shouting match outside my window, in an effort to get me to the football pitch for a few matches. Note: it was 5 am.

Though I missed the football (real football) that day, tomorrow I will make up for it, at 5 am, yes. In the middle of the week there were small pick-up matches, also great fun. After one of these, Ebenezer, one of the boys from the Oguaa's school, asked me to help him take his five goats back to his house. Below is the picture, first time I ever walked a goat.

Life in the village has been incredible. The simplicity with which things happen - from eating to working to playing - is refreshing after the somewhat scattered rush that was Accra. Regularly speaking Twi and meeting the people around is also very pleasant.
Teaching, probably the main aspect of this stage of the program, has been challenging and already very rewarding. However, I will write about this topic on the next post.
(Unfortunately, I can't say exactly when that will be... It was a two-hour commute to get to this internet cafe in Kumasi today).

All the best,

Kwame

Goodbye Accra - Hello Village!

Last day in the Ghanaian capital city of Accra.
The past four months are still a surreal experience, with incredible amounts of learning and discovering coming in bundles. Crowds of people, hailing trotros, being overwhelmingly a minority, learning a new language, volunteering in an NGO (SISS) and an economic development company (DAI)... Much of which was shared here in this blog.
Though still making sense of how all of this will be applied in the next few years is a continuous process, Ghana has left a great first impression. Mixed feelings are part of any long-term cultural experience, and believe me, ten calls of oburoni a day get old after a few months. However, the value of this gap year, as my group mate Cam put it, is a blank check from Princeton University.
Accra has given me a clear understanding of what development deficiencies are, and a much better perspective of how well structured Brazil is. The city and its friendly people provided exclusive opportunities, such as learning to play a traditional drum and making friends in public transport.

I would like to thank all who have taken the time to read parts of this adventure - this is only the halfway mark. People from over thirty countries have visited, and I am very happy to provide not only a glimpse to the world of what Ghana is, but also to develop an understanding of what I am living here.

Though internet access in the village will be much rarer, I promise to do my best to keep up the once a week posting pattern.

The village is about an hour away from Kumasi, the most important city in the Ashanti region of Ghana. The Ashantis were once a mighty empire, stretching to the Ivory Coast and Benin, in an area larger than the present-day country. After clashes with the British Empire, towards the end of the transatlantic slave trade, their size was reduced.
The Ashanti people, however, remain the proud majority of the Ghanaian populace. I look forward to learning more about their customs and traditions; comparing the kpanlogo drumming techniques I have learned from Ga's and Ewe's, witnessing the art of Kente weaving, and even carrying buckets of water on my head.

It's now time to leave the city. We're off to explore the bush.

Volunteering  in Accra was a very fortunate combination: first working with the grassroots at SISS, teaching residents from slums, and then in the USAID-funded, food security project AFRICA LEAD. The opposing approaches (much to the same goal - development) have led to a questioning of motives, and a deeper sense of identity and what fuels me.
There is a sense of goal-achieving that could not be obtained before a hands-on experience. As I recently read in an excellent book on social entrepreneurship, How To Change The World, by David Bornstein (great content, not-so-much title), institutions that work towards socioeconomic development rarely get scrutinized for effectiveness. It is as if the motives cancel-out the need for delivering competitive results, when it should be the absolute opposite: an amplification of commitment to excellency, for the sheer importance of the work.

It is with this mindset that I will approach the second-half of the program. Living in an African village, teaching children in local schools, all that sounds wonderful. But it goes to no avail if there is not a private-sector-like urgency for results, in this case, from myself.

Embarking in a new journey,

Kwame

Monkey Sanctuary

 Hello all!

This Christmas break, Clara (our program assistant) took us to a monkey sanctuary about two hours from Accra. At Shai-Hills, a forty acre reserve, there are three different species of monkeys, totaling about 35 groups. Each group has around 30 monkeys, so it's a well populated area!
The Reserve also has antelopes, though this is their mating season, and the herds usually remain hidden from the public spaces.

As soon as we drove through the gates, big baboons started moving on the sides of the roads. We were lucky enough to see two males and a female with a baby hanging from it's underside. The guard at the gate explained these were part of the most friendly group, and would occasionally roam the outer parts of the reserve for grass.
As in the picture above, the monkeys are outside the gates, and eventually also cross the highway. Luckily, they are said to be pretty savvy, and accidents only happen about once a year.

As the guard warned us, however, these were the only monkeys we would see for the rest of the day. Although we heard loud cries during our walk through the park, none of the other 30+ groups chose to reveal themselves.

After a short walk through what looked like a legitimate savanna (pictures of this on the next post!), we reached a cave. This so-called "bat-cave" was once home to a chief of the region, but now housed many bats. Consequently, the smell was not the most pleasant...

This was our last trip during our time in Accra! During the several excursions, we had opportunities to see regional and national dancing, art, religion, and now wildlife.

Wishing you all a happy new year,

Kwame