A Trip to the Cocoa Farm

Seth and his brother-in-law, Paul, share a cocoa farm near Achiase. I've been expressing interest in visiting the farm since I arrived, but it took them some time to take me seriously. On Monday, I finally got my chance to get even with the local roosters. Paul and I were up before dawn and disturbing their sleep as we prepared for a trip to the farm. Paul's two boys joined us on the journey.

We traveled in a tro-tro to a nearby village and from there set out on foot. The hike in featured lots of changing terrain: railroad tracks, rice farms, corn farms, river crossings, and winding trails through dense forest.

















Once we reached the farm, we were hit by a rainstorm and took shelter with the neighbouring rice farmer. As we waited out the rain, Paul's older boy asked me to take his photo.

















Cocoa is one of the main exports and more lucrative foodstuffs in Ghana. As such, the government manages the exportation of cocoa. As you can see in the two photos below, the cocoa fruit grows right off the trunk of the tree. When it's ripe it turns yellow, and you crack it open to take out the beans. The beans are then carried by labourers from the farm to the village. There they are dried, fermented, and bagged. The bags of dried beans are then sold to a purchasing clerk who, in turn, sells the beans to the government for export.

































As we returned to Achiase, the people we passed were amazed and amused that a white man had gone out to the farm. By the time we returned to our neighbourhood, the news had spread that I'd visited the farm and many people had a good laugh and lots to say as we approached.

It was a good adventure and Marina is already set to join us on the next visit.

- Davis

Photo Post

To make up for the last post, which included no photos, I'm going to share some that I like from the last couple of weeks.

When it's not raining, we eat dinner out on the balcony. Every night the sky is so interesting, either with dramatic clouds and colours or with lots of bright stars.










This is the nursery school where Marina has been working. The children cling with their feet and hands so that you can carry them hands-free, though usually a sheet is wrapped around to sling them up. As a side note, this little girl pees on Marina at least every second day.








See if you can spot the man at the bottom of this well. They climb in and out using the notches in the walls. It's dug by shovel and pick-axe which takes several months. This well is about 60 feet deep. Some others go much further to reach the water table.








As I made my way home through this rainstorm, many people called out to me to come take shelter with them, but I was enjoying the bucketless shower. If I ever come across a rainy t-shirt contest, this photo will be my submission. Pretty hot, I know.








Speaking of lightning storms, here's one that approached this weekend as we were hanging out on the balcony of our home with some neighbourhood kids. This is a 30-second exposure, taken at dusk.









We went to visit the biggest tree in western Africa on the weekend and were equally impressed by this nearby bee's nest. Apparently these guys are pretty nasty and dangerous if you get on their bad side.









Here's Seth, our host father, hanging out Hugh Hefner style on the balcony. He was a teacher and now works for the government in disaster planning. He's got a youthful spirit and is always up for a laugh.









Here we are with a Japanese girl, Ayu, who is volunteering by herself in a nearby village as a music teacher for two years. I met her at this very internet cafe and invited her for a visit.









Finally, you might remember the food called Fufu that I tried at the beach a few weeks ago. This is how they make it by pounding plantain and cassava together. Watch the fingers!


- Davis

Last week it was the photo. Now I'm the disappointment.

Had you been a female market trader in the small Ghanaian village of Achiase this week, you would have received some exciting news on Tuesday morning. You would have been informed that there was a white man in the conference hall above the bank, registering names of local women so that he could divide his riches among them. You then would have promptly joined the stream of women who were abandoning their stalls and making their way to the bank. Upon arrival, you would find a room filled with more than a hundred women. Indeed, there would be a white man standing before them, rambling incoherently in english - which is not the local language. And his translator would be more or less relaying the message that you'd hoped for. After registering, you'd hurry out to help spread the news.

As you've probably guessed, the white man in this story is me. As for the riches, well, I haven't located those yet. And as for the 100 women, unfortunately this was only the start. Throughout the remainder of the week, growing numbers of local women continued to seek me out at the bank, at the school where Marina is working, and at our home.

The background to this story is that I arrived at the bank on Tuesday morning, expecting to meet with the project officer of the bank and be briefed about the existing groups and the issues that they were facing, then meet with one or two of them. So I was a bit frustrated when he was in and out of his chair, giving me a broken ten minutes of his time. He was anything but cooperative, but I was trying to be patient. I just needed the one morning with him, and after that my time would be focused with the women. A few minutes after one of his exits, and about 15% of the way into my many questions, another bank employee came into his office and called me upstairs for the meeting with the women. ("What??? Now???")

I entered the room and saw the crowd of women and the project officer. He gave a lengthy introduction in the local language (which I later learned was the source of all the confusion) and then left the room. So that's how it began. If you then factor in a translator who arrived late and didn't seem to understand a word I said in english, and a bit of the telephone game where a message gets relayed several times and becomes more confused with each repetition, you now have the necessary elements in place for a village-wide misunderstanding.

Of course, the misinformation is far more exciting and spreads far more quickly than the correction. However, in the midst of all this, I did manage to identify a few groups that I can begin working with. I now have a translator who is much more adept, and after a final explanation at church on Sunday (where many of the villagers will gather), I expect to have a more productive week next week!

- Davis