My daily life in Ghana: 1

Ghanaian: 2

Ghanaian: 1

This is Ghana: 2

This is Ghana: 1

Loss: reflections on 2 different boys, from 2 different countries

Meet Ashiraf, a 12 year old boy in Northern Ghana. After his parents divorced, his dad left Ghana in search of a better job, in Sweden. After a second marriage, several calls back to Ghana, and countless promises, he said he would be coming back to see Ashiraf, and, amongst other things, bring him a laptop.
1 week before his expected arrival, a phone call reaches Ghana; Ashiraf's dad has been killed in a car accident..

Meet Pat, A 23 year old Canadian boy; an economics graduate from McMaster University. Walking along the road, late in the middle of the night. He is hit and killed..

After the loss of Ashiraf's dad, the family was incredibly sad, and beyond the tragedy that he would now grow up without a father, there was a deep sadness over the loss of opportunity for the boy.. Ashiraf- currently being cared for by family and a mother struggling to make money by selling items in the market- dreamed of a better life, out of poverty, and thought that as soon as his dad came back everything would be different. And his life probably would have change, drastically. Maybe he'd even get to go "outside" (leave Ghana) for his education, which his dad promised him. Now, he's like so many other boys in Northern Ghana, struggling, hopeful, for something better in their future. But lacking opportunities to see those hopes come into fruition.

Losing any loved one, no matter what the age or circumstance, is incredibly painful and life is never the same again. Every human being, no matter what country or what economic status, has experienced some kind of loss.. Losing a grandma, a sister, a mom, a dog, a best friend, a brother, a boyfriend, a daughter. Unfortunately, to some death and loss are more commonplace, a frequent visitor to normal life.

I remember one of Ashiraf's "brothers", while others were crying, stoically saying: "Life is like that.. people enter. And people exit."

1 family loses a boy. 1 boy loses a dad.
2 different countries.
1 unfortunate, unexpected connection..

Loss.

Why I don't look like a hippie... anymore.

After nearly a year in Ghana I am temporarily back in Canada, and as I walk through a shopping mall, I'm surprised by how much I seem to fit in. Yet when I converse with strangers, people are often intrigued, if not shocked, that I've been in "Africa" for so long.
When you see me, I might be wearing jeans and a top, with matching accessories, or on a good day I'm in a pencil skirt, heels, some makeup and highlighted hair. When most people think about "volunteering to Africa", they are inclined to pack baggy, beige pants, flowing floor length peasant skirts, tank tops, hiking shoes, and beaded bracelets. And that's exactly what I often see in Ghana. Sometimes I cringe to see other ex-pats dressed in oversized, wrinkly clothes in professional offices. But I mean come on, its terribly hot, sunny, and this work is so much deeper than vanity is concerned, right?

After wearing birkenstocks, pony-tails, and wrinkled tops for probably far too many months, I now look different in Ghana. As much as my job has changed over the past year, my appearance (and vocabulary) too have been altered.

As I work more in Accra, attend conferences, and meet with MoFA staff at the National office in attempts to share the field realities we observe and influence in a more systematic way, I realize that I ought to dress the way I'd dress walking into an office in Toronto, not like I'd dress for a yoga class. Though this is Ghana, this is West Africa, its not all mud huts and eating food with your hands.. Ghana is a multifaceted country filled with professional, intelligent people.

The Ghana you might imagine may include images of poor children, poor education systems, malaria, crowded buses, and villages with no electricity or running water.. and this is accurate. This is tragic. But just as Toronto has both homeless people and lavish mansions, Ghana has as many cell phones as mud huts, as many high heels as wellington boots.

When I went to the field to meet with farmer groups teaching them business skills, I wore flip flops or wellington boots-depending on the season.
Now, as I work more in offices and less in the field(for better or for worse), I wear skirts and high heels to demonstrate credibility, professionalism, and respect.

As I continue to transform internally throughout this incredible experience, there will likely be continued observable external improvements, refinements to the person that "Robin" is.. some more visible than others.

And that my friends, among many other reasons, is why I don't look like a hippie..

anymore.