Carolyn Miller is a 1-9 school that is free,’ though the children must wear uniforms. I spent 15-20 minutes in each grade. Every time I walked into a class, all the students stood and said in unison, “Good morning, visitor. How are you this morning?” I responded “I am fine, thank you. How are you?” And they replied, “We are also fine, thank you. Welcome to our __ grade class.” I saw no one using or carrying a cane in this school.
Grade 9 was studying aggregates and talking about sand as a common aggregate used in Africa. The teacher pointed out the uses in an African context as compared to in developed countries. When I visited Grade 8, the students were having a “pre-technical pictorial drawing class” in which they were working on perspective drawing. Grade 7 was reducing fractions to their lowest common denominator as well as working with exponents and square roots. I also saw cross-multiplying and basic algebra on the board.
The Grade 6 class was learning about STDs. The lecture combined sophisticated terms and language with religion and a bit of misinformation. The teacher said that God said we should only have sex in marriage. He also said they could catch syphilis from toilet seats. On the other hand, he used clinical terms for specific germs and had the students repeating terms such as gonorrhea, syphilis, and AIDS. He spoke of the importance of prenatal care and of the need for personal hygiene. It has to be tough to maintain when you live in a place with no running water.
The fifth graders asked questions of me. They wondered about the care of orphans in the US, classes in the States, teaching methods. I learned that here, the teachers, not the students, move from class to class for upper level classes. This class was learning about exponents, mixed fractions, and equivalent fractions. When a student responds individually (rather than a group response), that student stands to give the answer. After some group and individual responses, the teacher gave the class several problems he wrote on the board to work on paper.
Grade 4 was working on learning about water: “Water in the river is dirty because is has impurities. Pure water has no smell, no taste, no color.” Papers taped to the wall had information about the Protestant Reformation, endangering the environment, and similes and suffixes.
The third grade was learning about computers and other electronic devices. This school does have 5 old, but running computers that are connected to the Internet. This is rich, even in comparison to the new UN school. In second grade, the children were taking a spelling quiz. They would stand one at a time, face the back of the room, and the teacher would go through the words on the board that they had to spell out loud: station, sleeping, direction, remember, embrace, jacket, salvation, struggle, citizen, and rainbow. And first grade was studying masculine, feminine, common, and neuter nouns. The teacher would say something like, “I have two dusters in my hand. Which one is the female?” The class responded, “Neither.” So they are called what? Neuter gender.
Kojo brought Milike to the school so I could donate the secondary school scholarship money through him. I told Kojo I had to split money and school supplies I brought between the three schools and gave him 80 cedi’s to use for children who needed a uniform but could not afford it. I felt he might be a bit disappointed. I’m feeling that people seem to expect more than I can give. Certainly the stereotype is that Americans are all rich and can afford it, and certainly, in comparison to the refugees, we are. Still, our relative wealth has its limits. As I look around the camp and the greater environs – local communities – I have to wonder what massive amount of money would make a difference.
The school held a drumming and dancing assembly in my honor, and it was fantastic. I will add photos to this blog when I get home – without my photo software I haven’t been able to load them properly. At the end, most of the kids wanted to touch me – it’s an odd feeling. I have a couple wonderful pictures surrounded by the students. I do love their spirit in spite of such difficult lives.
Abeeku collected Serwa and me and dropped Serwa off for a hair appointment. We stopped at a dressmaker. He and Serwa had a Ghanaian dress made for me! It is quite beautiful, of green, blue, and white. We then drove on to another seacoast fishing village. In the car, Abeeku tried again to hold my hand. I told him that in the States only people who are a couple do that. He continues to tell me how much he will miss me and wants to call me every day. It’s getting tiring to be diplomatic.
A long-standing debate in anthropology is the problem of “exoticizing” so-called "primitive cultures." Ironically, I feel more like a creature on display here than the conditions I am trying to observe and photograph. Even traveling in the car with the windows down, people stare and kids chant “Obruni!” Perhaps part of Abeeku’s behavior is that he is championing around the lone Obruni in his community that he feels he can touch at will.
The fishing village was very dusty – there is very little grass anywhere – with strong smells of dead fish in the heat and throngs of people trying to sell things. Masses of shrimp were lying on thin cloths on the ground. I watched hens and a goat scamper through it just before I could snap a photo.
We watched fishermen mending their nets, and I enjoyed watching some children swim in the ocean. On our return to the car, Abeeku saw a woman carrying large sea snails on her head that he decided he had to buy. After a long bargaining session, she began to cut the shells away from the flesh with a large, dull knife. This took about an hour. Fortunately, we ate the fish Serwa bought from a woman yesterday, and not the snails, for dinner tonight.
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