Tolon, Revisited

As I near the middle of my placement and have surpassed my sixth week in Tolon, I feel like the town deserves another visit.

Life here is good. My health was somewhat sub-optimal earlier in my placement, but I’ve been feeling surprisingly healthy for the last week or two. Last night I finished an entire bowl of rice, a feat I had accomplished only once previously. I also consumed a smaller bowl of rice in the morning, four bags of groundnuts (peanuts), five bananas, half a mini-loaf of bread and what was probably too much choco delight (made-in-Ghana chocolate spread). The ten kilometer bike ride helped.

I’m still eating a lot of rice and maize, but they’re starting to grow on me. My favourite local food is probably waakey (“wa-chay”), which is made from rice and beans. Adisa (my host mother) sells waakey to school children every morning and I almost always go and buy it from her.


I eat waakey (rice and beans) every morning. The noodles are a bit of an extra touch.

Teazed (maize flower) is typically what we eat for dinner, although the type of soup varies. Almost all feature peppers and dehydrated fish, but my favourite is okra mostly because it includes the ever elusive green vegetables. Dinner can also take the form of rice balls (basically teazed but with giant balls of rice instead of maize) or jollof rice, which is rice cooked in a pepper sauce. The other night we had jollof watchay, which was a spectacular surprise.


Teazed is made from maize flower. The type of soup can vary; some have a tomato base while others are made from groundnuts.

On the weekends I tend to succumb to my love of eggs and fry up four or five for lunch. The concept of fried eggs isn’t foreign in Tolon, but from what I’ve seen it’s only the men who really eat them and don’t seem to do so often.


Frying eggs on a charcoal cook stove.

A couple weeks ago Tolon had a surprise visit from the American military. Naturally I was a little surprised to find marines parked outside the front of our compound, so I decided (along with half of Tolon) to go and investigate. The Americans went to greet the town elders (the chief was in Accra) and most people followed to watch. Unfortunately spectation isn’t really an option for a tall white man in Tolon and I ended up sitting in the front with all the soldiers as they talked with the elders and explained their mission. At first I thought they were part of the training operation the Americans are doing in Ghana, but they said they were actually veterinarians doing a routine service operation. Apparently they fly all over the world and go around de-worming goats and cows. They also have a human health unit. I’m still a little skeptical that their presence doesn’t have anything to do with the training operation, but they did go around treating animals the following day. I also can’t imagine how flying American military vets to various regions of the world is a cost effective development strategy. Perhaps it has less to do with poverty reduction and more to do with improving the global image of American forces abroad.


American forces outside my home in Tolon.

As there aren’t always American soldiers in town, I have to find other ways to occupy my time. Since on of my goals of being in Ghana is to learn as much about Ghanaian life as possible, I devised a list of things I want to do before I leave. When I have some extra time I browse the list and pick an adventure to tackle. One Sunday I decided I was going to go pray at the nearby mosque.


The nearby mosque. One of five or six in Tolon.

Muslims (at least the ones in Tolon) pray five times a day. The first prayer is at 5:30am, then again at 1pm, 3pm, 6:30pm and 7:10pm. Each time one of the old men will go inside the mosque about fifteen minutes beforehand and start broadcasting his prayers through the megaphone on the roof of the mosque. While some volunteers have expressed irritation at waking up to this, I don’t mind it so much. Participating in the morning prayer was actually my favourite; the air was still and the sun had not yet risen. The actions of bowing on the knees and chanting give it an almost meditative feel. I also learned how to do abolishment, which involves using water to wash the hands, head and feet before entering the mosque.

I was a little concerned about my presence being disrespectful, but my friend Mohammed reassured me that it was okay for me to participate. After the first prayer was over the old men smiled at me and were eager to shake my hand, making me feel welcome. It wasn’t until the evening that I realized people had assumed I was planning to come every day to pray. Even now people will still jokingly ask me to come to pray with them. In retrospect I probably should have been a lot clearer on my intentions. I’m not entirely sure if I’ve offended anyone and don’t know if I would go back and do it again, but I’m still very grateful for the experience. I would probably never have even seen the inside of the mosque otherwise.

Life with my family has also evolved. Ayisha and I will joke around a lot and I feel like a strong friendship is developing. Sometimes she’ll help and/or laugh at me wash clothes, other times I’ll help her read or carry water. Mostly I think she finds me amusing and I enjoy the way her face lights up when she first sees me. Sala, who is called Ma Sala or “Mother Sala” because there are too many Salas, is as happy as ever. It’s pretty hard not to find her chubby waddling little walk cute. Sometimes I try to get her to talk to me by asking her simple questions in Dagbani like “where are you going?”, “what are you doing?” or “where are you eating?”, but she usually only talks to her direct family. Baba doesn’t speak much English, but I’ve noticed our relationship change. We still don’t have a lot of interaction, but he’s started to find me less intimidating and more amusing. He and some of the other children have started calling me “Brother Sam” which I think is a further indication that they consider me more approachable. My host mother, Adisa, loves to talk loudly in a big stern voice, but is really quite loving and often jokes around with her children. When I walk through town people usually greet me in my Dagbani name, “Wumpini” and ask how I am or where I’m going. In many ways I feel like the town mascot. People find me amusing, but I also feel like there’s a growing level of respect. I feel welcome.


Ayisha, 13 years old.


Ma Sala ("Mother Sala"), 3 years old.


Baba, 9 years old.

In coming to Ghana, one of my greatest fears was that I wouldn’t be able to connect with people. I’ve always been a bit of an introvert and had seen this as a weakness in terms of integrating into a new culture and building relationships. My experience has been quite the opposite. Whatever insecurities I have about my placement from a work point of view, I feel good about the successes I’ve had at making friends and becoming a part of life in Tolon. Last night Adisa told Ayisha to ask me how long it’s been since I came to Tolon and how long I’m going to stay. When I told them two more months they were a little bit upset. They asked who will make them laugh in the evenings once I’ve gone. Before I leave, they said, I have to be sure I take a picture with them and Baba and Ma Sala and get it printed.

I was telling Sarah about this experience and she asked me what I think I’ve done to be so successful at building these relationships. Honestly, I think a lot of it is just having the good fortune of finding an awesome family in an awesome town. When I came to Tolon I had hoped to get to know people, make a few friends and be able to say I didn't screw it up too badly. I never expected to have people miss me; I never expected to leave feeling loved.


Playing owaray (African stones game).


Ayisha (front, in black) and some of the other kids who live near my home.

Time

I remember Sarah Lewis (a returned long term volunteer with EWB) once said that the biggest difference between her first four months in Ghana and her first year was that she learned who her real friends were. I wouldn’t say I’ve had exactly the same experience during my first six weeks here, but I am beginning to appreciate how understanding grows and changes with time. Looking back at my previous perceptions of life in Ghana, I find them riddled with flaws and misconceptions. I’ve also come to recognize that I felt this same way after two weeks and will almost certainly feel the same way after three and a half months.

In a way it’s a bit like calculus. If we let variable U represent understanding and variable t represent time spent in Ghana and consider that understanding is a function of time we obtain:



If we then realize that the more time someone spends in Ghana the closer they come to obtaining perfect understanding, but also that it is never possible to actually achieve perfect understanding, we obtain the function:



In short, I’m starting to realize how very very important it is to spend time. I suppose this idea applies to any field, but I think it’s particularly relevant to international development. Of course there’s never enough time and there’s always an opportunity cost to spending more time. Individuals and organizations hoping to create positive change have to find a balance; what portion of their limited resources do they spend trying to understand their intended beneficiaries and what portion do they spend trying to help them. Anthropologists obviously focus on trying to understand and occupy one end of the extreme, whereas the well intentioned eighth grader organizing a Christmas cheer box full of toothbrushes, plastic dolls and crayons occupies the other end of the extreme. I don’t think either approach is particularly ideal, but feel that generally there isn’t enough emphasis on spending time to understand.

So what’s the right amount of time? I’ve been grappling with this question ever since arriving. On the one hand I want to know that what I’m doing is actually going to have a positive influence on the poor in Ghana, but at the same time recognize that this concern can be paralyzing. While I don’t want to leave having spent all my time working on a project that isn’t addressing the real causes of poverty, I also don’t want to leave having spent all my time questioning and not doing. Eric Dudley in The Critical Villager says something along the lines of “you have to dream for success while looking back and being critical”. For me the toughest part is truly believing in that success and not getting hung up on the obstacles. Of the many lessons I take away from Ghana, I think one of the greatest will be that of accepting imperfection and learning to embrace small achievements.

More Than Just An Egg Sandwich

After a rain drenched bus ride to Tamale this morning, I decided to pull up for an egg sandwich and tea at one of the street vendors. The egg sandwiches are pretty uneventful (sometimes you get some onion, if you’re really lucky a little green pepper) and the tea is always loaded with way too much milk powder and sugar, but these days I consider them both about as close to godliness as food items can reasonably become. This might have something to do with the other ninety percent of my diet: maize and rice. I may be exaggerating a little here, but not much. Lots of maize and rice.

Regardless of how close egg sandwiches are to godliness, I got a little more than I bargained for at this particular meal (actually I didn’t bargain at all, street food seems to work on a fixed price basis). I sat down with a couple taxi drivers, also enjoying their own little slices of godliness, and before long the conversation turned to “my place” (Canada).

The men were surprised to learn that there are socio-economic levels in Canada. They asked me how I would know if someone was a rich man. I said he would drive a nice car and live in a big house. I think this answer was most shocking because of how familiar it was. To many in Ghana, becoming wealthy is equated with becoming more like people in the west. Those who can afford it (and probably more frequently those who can’t) purchase TVs, DVD players and mobile phones in an attempt to assume the ever coveted modern lifestyle that they believe everyone in the west enjoys. Just as many Canadians lump Africans into the category of helpless and poor, Ghanaians lump North Americans into the category of endlessly rich. Clearly the picture is hardly so black and white.

I continued by explaining that we even have homeless or street people, to which they nodded their understanding. “But”, they said, “you surely don’t have these mad people do you? You must keep them separate from society.” I said we do have mad people (those with mental illness), but that they usually receive some sort of government assistance. This must have hit a trigger, because one of the men got excited and exclaimed knowingly, “aww yes, government assistance.” Based on this and previous conversations, I get the impression Ghanaians feel that their government doesn’t help them enough, but that western governments provide all sorts of help to their citizens. In part this is true, Canada has a social safety net that just doesn’t exist in Ghana, but this is only possible because of our government’s taxation power. It’s pretty hard to collect income tax from a subsistence farmer.

Eventually we got to the specific prices of goods and services in both countries. We compared university tuition, which is about $2,500 a year in Ghana. I told them I pay $10,000 a year, but they were most wowed by the fact that tuition in the US can be up to $30,000 (this was my best estimate). They were surprised that we still have to pay our own electricity and water bills. I tried to explain the gas bill, but I think the concept of having to heat ones home was largely incomprehensible. The Canadian minimum wage really got them going; one man kept calculating how much he would make in a day, how much in ten days and so on. Most taxi drivers don’t own their vehicles and are lucky to take home $2-3 a day, so $8 an hour is pretty mind boggling.

The one commodity for which the price was consistent was fuel. The ramifications of this are huge. When most everything else is a fraction of the cost, including wages, the relative cost of fuel is GINORMOUS. Goods become more expensive the further you get away from urban centres and transportation costs rise. Recent increases in fuel prices are spurring previously manageable inflation in the country. Just about everything is getting more expensive, but wages are not increasing. The impact is felt particularly hard by taxi drivers. Passengers refuse to pay more, owners refuse to accept less profit and fuel prices are continuing to rise, leaving only the driver to absorb the cost.

Before I left I asked the men if they felt that development was happening in their country and if their situation was improving. They said, “you know if you’re doing well and have a good job it’s easy to see development happening, but when you’re just a poor man trying to make a life it’s often hard to see how anything is improving.”

Is He Worth It?

My work with the lowland rice cooperative (NILRIFACU) continues. The cooperative’s executive is made up of roughly ten members, three of which are women processors. Each member of the executive also belongs to their own local farmer or processor group (usually as an executive) and NILRIFACU represents two or three thousand people.

Earlier this week I went to Tamale to accompany some of the executives as they registered for classes at a local computer centre (apparently run and funded by the Dutch). I ended up taking a bit of a tour to where one of the women’s groups processes their rice and the mill where they pay to have it de-husked.


The women showing me some of their milled rice. Can you spot the stones?

They also took me to the site of an abandoned rice mill and shea butter processing centre which was donated by the former government but which has since fallen into disrepair. Two of the NILRIFACU executives used to be part of the group running the mill, but described how the group was largely dysfunctional and blamed the male members. They said that they are much better off now that they are not working with men, at which point I joked that perhaps I shouldn’t be getting involved.


The abandoned processing centre.

Ayesha, the group’s treasurer, is pretty impressive. She’s a rice processor, a single mother and a market enumerator (records market prices for the government). In addition, she’s signed up for computer classes and still manages to attend almost all the NILRIFACU meetings as well as her own processing group’s meetings. She told me her group’s dream is to get a mill and use the abandoned centre to process their own rice. Ideally this mill would feature a de-stoner and colour sorter which would allow the women to process high quality rice. Stone-free, quality rice can sell for as much as twice what regular local rice sells for. An American NGO called TechnoServe is offering grants for rice mills ($2500), but will not cover the extra expense of a three-in-one rice mill, de-stoner and colour sorter ($6000). As there are already basic mills in the area, it is unlikely this particular group will receive the grant, although it may be useful for some of the more rural groups.


Areysha (left) and another of the female NILRIFACU executives.

I have mixed feelings about the processing equipment. On the one hand, I feel like the cooperatives need to start thinking more like a business and focusing on how they can improve their own operations without external support. At the same time, the benefits of equipment such as a de-stoner are clear and the financial capital required is clearly out of their immediate reach. In the right hands, a grant or low interest loan could have the potential to dramatically increase the group’s income.

At the last NILRIFACU meeting Ayesha asked me what I was going to do for her group. I responded by trying to tell her I could help them do some kind of profitability study that might help them when applying for grants in the future. Her reaction was basically, “that’s it?” I’ve continued to reiterate the fact that EWB does not provide funding for projects, but this doesn’t seem to satisfy her. She thinks that because I’m from such a wealthy country that I can simply ask “my people” to support her group.

While I was slightly frustrated by her comment, it got me thinking. I couldn’t help but feel a pretty heavy touch of guilt considering the cost of my placement is just about the same as that of the three-in-one processing equipment. I’m pretty sure if you asked the group which one they’d prefer, it wouldn’t be a difficult decision. Now I don’t think that means my being here is a mistake, I expect much of the positive impact I have to be indirect and not as quantifiable as the value of a machine. I also don’t feel like it would be a good idea for EWB to start handing out grants or loans, as we don’t have the financial resources and this certainly is not our area of expertise.

That being said, perhaps I can help the group seek out financial support from other areas. Even just my access to the internet is a huge advantage. With all the buzz about micro credit recently, there has to be options out there for a group who’s well organized and can demonstrate a strong financial plan. Hopefully I can help the group find potential funding sources and develop a stronger proposal for securing those funding sources. It won’t be an easy task, but somehow I have to prove, if only to myself, that I’m worth a three-in-one rice mill, de-stoner and colour sorter.

A "NERICA" Moment

Another big week has gone by. I had a brief bout with malaria earlier, which likely thanks to my malaria prophylactic, wasn’t actually too bad. It beats food poisoning anyway. Main thing is I'm very well now, so no one should worry.

I also had my second meeting with the NILRIFACU rice producer and processor cooperative. The cooperative has a marketing fund and the idea is that they buy rice from producers at harvest time and resell it to processors when prices are high. Sarah Grant (my coach and a long-term volunteer with EWB) and I co-facilitated a needs assessment and visioning session with the cooperative. It consisted of plenty of flipchart paper (which it seems is a standard EWB practice both in Canada and overseas) and a number of question aimed at trying to help the cooperative figure out what their priorities are for the future as well as attempt to start scoping out where I may be able to help them over the next few months. I wouldn’t call it a resounding success, but it could have gone worse.


Some of the NILRIFACU executive standing with me outside their office in Tamale.

Some of NILRIFACU’s chief priorities are to obtain financial compensation for the cooperative’s executive (a reasonable request since they are volunteers who also have their own farms to manage), transportation for the executive, their own grinding mill and more reliable tractor services for their members. Unfortunately all of these objectives require a source of funding. The cooperative was essentially established by the French development agency and has had a lot of donor support in the past, so they often become stuck on the idea that they need someone to give them more money. And who can really blame them in the NGO saturated world of Ghana where it is often more profitable to learn how to say the right things to the right people than it is to run a legitimate business. We did however manage to discover a couple profit making ideas that the cooperative has been interested in pursuing. These include purchasing inputs (fertilizer, pesticide, etc.) in bulk and reselling to members, better management of the marketing fund to maximize profits from rice sales and the development of the cooperative’s own brand of “high quality assurance” rice. My role in all this has largely yet to be determined, but I will begin by attending the cooperatives meetings and taking part in their work (going to the bank, etc.) as well as teaching several members how to use their newly acquired computer. I’m meeting with the cooperative again today.

The other part of my work with rice has been concerning NERICA (New Rice for Africa). NERICA represents roughly 3000 different varieties of rice created by crossing high-yielding Asian rice with hardy African rice. In addition to being drought resistant, NERICA has a reduced growing season and can produce increased yields of up to 250%. Since its release in the late 1990s, NERICA has attracted a lot of attention. In 2004, its creator, Dr. Monty Jones, became the first African to win the World Food Prize. In an article for Time Magazine, Jeffrey Sachs (economist and author of The End of Poverty) described NERICA as part of an “African Green Revolution”.

NERICA has been widely adopted throughout West Africa and is quickly making its way to the rest of the continent. In my area of Ghana, the Ministry of Food and Agriculture is heavily promoting the production of NERICA. The nearby Savannah Agricultural Research Institute is also conducting a seed growing program in which producers are essentially contract farmers. They are given seed and fertilizer at the start of the growing season and then sell their crop back to the Savannah Agricultural Research Institute, but with the costs of the inputs deducted. As a bit of a side note, I was reading a little about contract farming. Although this is an example of government sponsored contract farming, it seems to be working well. Is there potential for more private sector contract farming? Maybe someone feels like doing some research for me?

Back to NERICA, EWB is asking the question of whether the new rice is everything its cracked up to be. While there are clearly potential benefits, what risks are associated with the new technology? Are there areas the Ministry of Food and Agriculture needs to address as they continue to promote NERICA? This is where I come in.

I’ve had the opportunity to accompany two sociology researchers from Pennsylvania State University who were here for two weeks as part of a larger study on the social impacts of the new technology. It was a great opportunity to get out of Tolon, see some of the smaller villages in the area and get to talk to a few rice farmers.


David (top) and Leland (in car) are sociologists researching NERICA.


Leland, their interpreter Ester and one of the agricultural extension agents.


Some of the farmers we interviewed in their village.

The Americans had a fairly structured interview to conduct, but I feel like I learned a significant amount about rice cultivation and NERICA. Some of my observations thus far:

When Sarah Grant had suggested this project, she had been working under the assumption that NERICA would be replacing other upland crops such as maize. Of the nineteen farmers I’ve talked to, only one has admitted to reducing their maize production. The vast majority seem to be either planting the rice on previously uncultivated lands or else either fully or partially replacing their traditional rice with NERICA.

Growing NERICA is extremely labour intensive. Whereas traditional rice is broadcasted (seeds are thrown), farmers are being taught to plant NERICA in carefully measured rows and make holes with a specified number of seeds in each one. Many have indicated that they now spend more time in their fields because of NERICA and that they often hire labour to assist them (although this wasn’t uncommon before). This raises some interesting questions: If people are spending more time in their fields, is this taking away from other activities? Hiring labour has local economic benefits, but it increases risk for the farmer if his/her yields do not reflect the increased investment. As another interesting side note, some farmers are employing some of the NERICA growing techniques on their traditional rice varieties as well.

Probably the biggest concern raised by NERICA is its heavy dependence on fertilizer. Not using fertilizer reduces yields from about twenty 50kg bags per acre to roughly five. Almost all farmers said that while both NERICA and traditional rice varieties do poorly without fertilizer, the traditional variety does better and that they would not grow NERICA if they could not obtain fertilizer. While seed growers are being given fertilizer by the Savannah Agricultural Research Institute’s seed program (which is scheduled to end in the next year or so), those growing grain are forced to buy their own fertilizer. Although almost all reported using at least some fertilizer, many said they had to take loans to obtain it and that they were not able to use as much as recommended. Taking loans has obvious risks if external factors (drought, animal destruction) impact yields and the farmer cannot sell his crop to pay back the loan. Also, the increasing price of oil is already impacting the price of chemical fertilizer, which has almost doubled in the last year. The government has recently announced it will increase fertilizer subsidies, but this solution is a limited one at best. What are the long-term implications for NERICA growers if oil (and fertilizer) prices continue to rise?

Interestingly, few are actually consuming the NERICA. Most are either selling to the Savannah Agricultural Research Institute or to large buyers coordinated by the Ministry of Food and Agriculture. Those who said they have tried eating it actually prefer the taste to traditional rice.

While not everyone we talked to had been all that successful with growing NERICA (either due to late planting, drought, destruction by cattle or lack of fertilizer), almost all indicated that they liked NERICA and that they would continue to grow it. I have a hunch part of this apparent satisfaction is due to the perception that the new fancy technical solution is always the best, but one cannot deny the potential benefits NERICA has for the individual farmer.

I feel like the next phase of this project is going to be to get some harder numbers on the relative cost of inputs, yields and market prices between traditional rice and NERICA. Hopefully I'll be able to do some sort of sensitivity analysis to compare the relative profitabilities of the two varieties if fertilizer prices continue to rise. It would also be nice to look at other crops, but a direct comparison might be difficult. The next few weeks are probably going to involve talking to the some more farmers, staff at the Ministry of Food and Agriculture office where I work and NERICA experts at the Savannah Agricultural Research Institute. I also need to keep in my the challenge of making sure this doesn't become just a nice report that a few people read, but that doesn't result in any real action on the ground.

How is rice processed??


After rice is harvested it must be parboiled to soften the husk for milling.


Once parboiling is complete, the rice is dried. This is typically done on the floor of the processor's compound.


More rice drying...


Finally rice is milled to remove the husk. Ideally this process would be fallowed by a de-stoner (to remove stones, other foreign matter) and a colour sorter (to remove the brown particles). Unfortunately this rarely happens in Ghana and local rice is often of inferior quality. Those who can afford it typically purchase imported rice.