Mother, please don't read this.

I don't like talking about this particular subject publicly not because I am uninterested in it, but because I'd rather avoid unnecessarily alarming certain people in my life who love me and whom I love.

However, today was so interesting I think I need to share, with all due respect to the subject matter.

The family I stay with told me that while I was away, they had seen a snake. They said it was small, no thicker than my big toe, and green. "Ah," I said. "Have you seen it since?"

"Oh! No!" was the reply.

Today, while we drank our koko (porridge made from fermented corn, cooked with ginger and lots of other spices) with groundnuts, my homestay mother became very alarmed and pointed to a nearby tree growing behind a corrugated metal fence.

A snake!

Tree behind fence.

"Don't go near it!" she said, as I rushed to grab my camera. The photo above was taken from as close as I was allowed to go (actually, a few steps further - I was quickly called to come back). So here is a zoomed in crop. I'm very sorry to say that the focus fell slightly behind the snake. I am really still a beginner with photography and my strengths at the moment are macro shots of things that don't move rather than far away things which are the same color as their background and quickly trying to escape. But here it is anyway!

Snake in tree, probably western green mamba (Dendroaspis viridis)

I believe it was most likely a green mamba, and probably the western green mamba (Dendroaspis viridis), which is more common to this area. However, I am not an expert in snakes and am basing this mostly on its color, movements, location, and the fact it was quite happy in trees, after having dug through the lovely field guide, "West African Snakes" by G. S. Cansdale, published in 1961 by Longmans, and ruling out other species of snake with similar head shape and color forms.

This description of the green mamba's behavior comes from pages 45-46:

"Above all, the Green Mamba has an alive, active look about it, balancing itself perfectly among the branches and with the front part of the body held free on the alert."

The book, by the way, is excellent! The author worked for 14 years in the Forestry Department in Ghana and dedicated the book as follows (from page vi):

"To my wife, who even lets me keep snakes in the drawing-room."

Now, snakes stir up a lot of emotions in people. I have a deep respect for them and would not knowingly go within an unsafe distance of them or try to catch them, but I am not afraid of them.

For the most part, snakes are considerably more frightened of humans (for good reason, as shown below) than we give them credit for; and as evidenced by my experience today, they try to get away as quickly as possible when given the chance. They are sensitive to vibrations (though Cansdale says they are otherwise mostly deaf) and when hiking in areas with lots of rattlesnakes (e.g. the beloved Blue Mountains surrounding the Walla Walla Valley) I stomp my feet to warn snakes in advance of my presence. Generally the only snakes I see are, like the one today, fleeing.

The one we saw today started moving pretty fast once it realized people had noticed it, especially when Vivian started to throw stones and shout at it. It immediately fled into the citrus tree behind it and then disappeared. Byebye snake.

Cansdale writes the following, rewritten with feminine pronouns to compensate for his day and age (p.12):

"...I think it should be stressed here that to a person going about [her] everyday life in and around a town, snakes are much less a danger to life than the bicycle or car on which [she] rides to work."

My understanding of snake behavior is that, although some are venomous (not all are! And some that are slightly venomous, such as garter snakes, have almost no means by which they can inflict that venom on humans - I spent much of my youth catching and releasing garter snakes with my friends to no ill effect), they usually only bite humans when surprised or provoked. Overall, we're not their preferred prey.

On the other hand, apparently they are the preferred prey to certain raptors.

Cansdale again (p.14):

"Many birds include snakes in their diet and several of the day birds of prey take little else. Only two specimens of the Gold Coast Serpent Eagle have been collected recently: one had just eaten 2 small Black Cobras and 1 Green Mamba, while the other contained a Green Mamba, so it looks as if this bird prefers poisonous snakes."

And snakes aren't immune to the dangers of an even more threatening (though generally considered to be less scary) creature, the ant (p.15):

"Driver Ants are a menace to almost all forms of life and even large snakes are not always able to get away. On two occasions I happened on snakes of 2 to 3 ft. in length nearly covered with ants and quite unable to escape. In the rainy season these ants are likely to be the snake's most serious enemy."

Further predators include civets, honey badgers, wild pigs, and mongooses. Certain birds, such as the secretary bird, really enjoy trampling snakes to death before eating them. Herons, monitor lizards, and of course, other snakes, are also willing to snack on a snake when given the chance. (All from pages 14-15 of Cansdale).

But, of course, the real big scary thing in this world is us. Continuing on from page 15 (I've also swapped gendered terms here, just for consistency):

"[Woman] is also an enemy, killing any snake within range, but it is by setting fire to farms and, more especially, the dry grass-lands that [she] does most damage. These fires sweep across the country at great speed and drive everything living before them, exposing them to attack by birds and other enemies, as well as claiming many direct victims. Fire is probably the snake's most serious single enemy in the long dry season."

The one good thing humans manage to do for snakes is keep stores of grain and other things that snake-prey love to eat. Where there are mice, there will be predators of mice.

Both Cansdale and Wikipedia seem to agree on the point that green mambas are dangerous, yes, and also very venomous, but most likely to try to flee if possible.

Cansdale writes, speaking about reports that green mambas guard the general area of where they have laid eggs (p.46-47):

"The aggressive habits of snakes about which so much is said probably have to do with such defence of breeding grounds during the breeding season. I have heard of only one report of a Green Mamba showing aggression: this snake came through the crown of a tree and made some threatening movements, but did not press home its attack."

And Wikipedia adds, citing Spawls, S., Branch, B. (1995). The Dangerous Snakes of Africa. Blandford. pp. 51–52 (which I think is an unfortunate title):

"It is a very quick, extremely agile, alert, and nervous snake. When confronted it will quickly attempt to escape (usually up a tree if possible) and avoid any sort of confrontation. If cornered, the western green mamba is highly dangerous and will show a fearsome display of aggression, loudly hissing and striking repeatedly."

So, that's a little bit about snakes, which are actually very beautiful and simultaneously fearsome/fearful creatures.

I'm sorry, Mom.

In Logba Again (written last weekend)

The smell of burning goat tickles my nose. The rain has calmed to a steady patter and gentle, thundering rumble. The sounds of cooking, of television, of night-time insects float about on the cool, wet air. It is evening in Logba Alakpeti.

Today was market day, though not a big one. A funeral at the top of the hill and others elsewhere (weekends are popular times for funerals, and funerals are a big occasion) occupied most of the usual market-vendors and customers. In the afternoon the rains started, stopped briefly, and then began again in earnest,  leaving most vendors scrambling to cover their wares with plastic sheets. The more common bamboo shade structures covered in palm fronds aren't as waterproof as the corrugated metal covering some of the market stalls.

I went with Vivian to buy local soap and ingredients for preparing sobolo, which is one of the common names used throughout Ghana for a beverage made out of the calyces of Hibiscus sabdariffa (also used to prepare beverages which go by the name of Jamaica, sorrel, and bissap). We bought plenty of ginger, sugar, and spices to go in it.

Life goes on in the Logba Traditional Area. While I was away, all of the thousands of delicious, immature mangoes that were growing on the trees ripened and were eaten. My research assistant and his wife had a baby girl. And the rains have started to fall, causing even more lush greenery to spring up. I am told that the rains are not yet sufficient for the crops, and there is some concern among farmers about that.

So once again I am grateful to be here, grateful for the hospitality and kindness of my homestay family and the surrounding community of people. The journey from Accra only took 7 hours (three hours more than usual), rather than 9 hours like my last trip! When I alighted from the trotro with my baggage I was immediately greeted in Ikpana by two Akpanawo (autonym for the people of the Logba Traditional Area) and I felt so happy to be able to return the greeting.

Today I passed a few neighbors on the way home from the market and after we had exchanged greetings they asked, "How long will you be staying with us?" "Four weeks!" I replied. And with typical Ghanaian humor they said, "When you go, take us with you back to your place!" "All right," I agreed.

Though now I am in the Logba Traditional Area again, I spent my first week back in Ghana in Accra, meeting with the paramount ruler and the botanist, and visiting my friends while making necessary arrangements. While there, a few of us went to Aburi Botanical Gardens together, which the botanist highly recommended, as Aburi is his home town.

More on our trip to the Aburi Botanical Gardens to come. In the meantime, here is a picture of the baby gecko that hangs out on my headboard.

Geckofriend in Logba Alakpeti

How to Take a Bucket Bath

Now, I know this is probably different for everyone and there is no right or wrong way of doing it, but I thought I'd write a little bit about what I've been taught about bucket baths because maybe it is useful or interesting and it isn't something that's talked about much! As pointed out to me once by a friend, the way one makes their bed is something we sort of assume we know but never actually discuss or (rarely) see. I think showering and bathing techniques are also similarly mysterious.
Also, where I am staying at the moment there is running water in the bathroom, so I only use a bucket of water for my bath if I want to indulge in using hot water (e.g. on cold mornings or when I don't feel very well).

Sponge and mini-bucket of local soap with water added to it

So here goes: how to take a bucket bath, as taught to me by one of my homestay family members.

First, buy a small bucket, about a quart in size. Then get some local soap (especially the Volta Region style soap, which I don't have a photo of, but comes in crumbly little balls) and crumble it into the bucket. Add water and let it sit over night. The next morning it will be goopy and a bit like custard.

Each morning after you've finished the morning chores, and each evening before bed, fill your larger bath bucket with water (add some hot water if you need it to be warm), then take this with your towel, mini bucket of soap, and 'sponge' (colorful netting/webbing) to the bath area or bathroom. In some areas, the bath area has a wooden pole over the entrance and you can hang your towel or the 2 yards of cloth your body is wrapped in over this when you enter to create a removable door/towel rack. Where I am right now it is a room in a house.

When bathing, first rinse your body, using a cup to get the water out of the bucket, then take your sponge and dab it into the bucket of now nicely goopy soap. Add a bit of water and scrub it into a lather then use this to scrub your body. Rinse off all the soap, and if you need to, wash your hair (see previous posts about this, if your hair is of the non-African variety).

If you are lucky enough to have a lime tree (citrus, not tilia spp.) in your compound, then you can squeeze a bit of lime juice into your bath water before bathing to make you extra clean-smelling! And when you've finished your bath you can take the lime rind halves and rub these in your armpits for all-day freshness.

There you go. One take on how to take a bucket bath!

Things One Can Buy Out Of A Trotro Window

Okay, now many of you have already read about trotros, or troskis, or just 'buses' as they are sometimes slightly euphemistically called. They are large vans with lots of seats, including ones on the edge that fold up so you can pack the entire thing full from the back (and make everyone else get out at your stop to let you off).

There are key points along the roads which are sites of congestion, e.g. major intersections, slow traffic signals, markets, construction zones, bridges, etc. And entrepreneurial people make excellent use of this congestion to sell their wares. One almost doesn't actually need to arrive when going to the shop, because you could just about get everything you need just on your journey there.

But there's something to be said for timing, and I think buying from a trotro window takes a certain amount of confidence. One must know if the object being offered is actually what one needs, and there isn't any time to haggle, because the driver may start to drive off at any second. One must be certain, speedy, and have the correct amount of money ready at hand!

Here are a few of the many and diverse things I've seen on offer that I could have bought from out of the trotro window.

The list:
toothpaste
a dead bush rat
a parrot in a cage
doughnuts
handkerchiefs
water in 0.5L sachets
phone credit
a kebab of oysters
ikadza (fruit of dialium spp., see previous posts)
plantain chips
a watch
hydrogen peroxide
takeaway food boxes
multi-colored 'sponge' (for bathing, see upcoming post)
fan yogo (frozen yogurt)
a pack of Jesus stickers
'tea' bread
a catfish
meat pie
Life Guide booklet (for answers to all life's questions!)
Jesus calendar
a pair of wool trousers
flashlights
biscuits
a kebab of snails, onions, and chilies
towels

Is this a complete list? Certainly not. But it gives you a rough idea of the diversity of wares on offer if you're quick enough to make a purchase. When stuck in a station waiting for your vehicle to fill up before it will leave you usually have a bit more time to think about what you want (and to think, in general).

I have a huge amount of respect for the people selling to passengers through the trotro windows. It's dangerous, it's risky, and it certainly takes a lot more speed on their part to be able to give exact change and quickly make a sale under pressure than it does for the one making the purchase. The profit margin is low, the weather is hot, and they're carrying heavy loads on their heads for a long time. And they are definitely providing a service which benefits the many passengers! Who knows when you might need some Jesus stickers with your sachet of water, but if you do, some industrious person might just be there ready to provide you with them.

Next post will be about taking a bucket bath....

Spring in England (an earlier post, almost forgotten!)

Dear friends,

I am on a short break from my fieldwork at the moment in the UK. My plan is to rest, reassess things from a different perspective, and of course prepare for the next bit of fieldwork.

It's really nice to be here and see many of my close friends and loved ones. I'm also enjoying feeling cold, strangely. There's something comforting about wearing a jumper, I find, and the first night I snuggled up under a warm duvet I realized that I actually like pulling blankets around myself at night. So I am celebrating the many little buds and blossoms of spring, spending nice time with people I love, and eating my favorite non-Ghanaian foods. The sun is shining gently, the nettles are ready for harvesting, and this morning there were two deer grazing in the field outside the little cabin in Devon I'm tucked away in at the moment.

And, for those who may have been worrying, I have a clean bill of health from the doctors at the hospital for tropical diseases! No parasites, no hemorrhagic fever - just a bit of a cold which is disappearing quickly and is comfortingly familiar.

Next post will be the long-awaited things you can buy from a trotro window...

Spot the Devon deer

A week of adventures

Well, it feels like there is too much to put into a blog post! I want to write about Ghana's Independence Day which was on the 6th of March (57 years!) and about the bridge across the Volta River being closed the day I left Accra to return to Logba Alakpeti and about the power being out for three of the four days when the botanist and I were doing our work together, and how on the fourth day I woke up with a fever and had to go to the hospital again.

And also, I have some pictures to share!

But I'm tired, and I've been sitting for so long this week I can hardly sit anymore without it hurting.

So here is the condensed version of each of those stories.

Independence Day

Ghana celebrates its independence from the British on 6 March, 1957.

What is now called Ghana has a far longer history than its colonial past. Rich with forest products, gold, and other such things it was deeply involved in the complicated trade routes of West Africa for a long long time, and the 70+ languages spoken here give you an idea of the diversity of populations in the area. I'm not a historian and the books I've read on the matter have not impressed me, so I won't say much more. However, I think it's important to point out that the area of Ghana where I am working, the Volta Region, was not actually part of the British-occupied Gold Coast for most of West Africa's period of European invasion. It was, rather, part of German-occupied Togoland.

When preparing for Independence Day, people around here would sometimes start singing songs in Ewe about the military and 1916, which was the year that Togoland was divided up by the French and the British, and what is now the Volta Region officially became a part of modern-day Ghana in 1957, after a fairly close 1956 vote to do so.

I hope that makes sense and isn't too factually inaccurate. I have a bit of a fever, so please don't quote me on any of that!

Anyway, the independence day celebrations involved marches in Black Star Square and a speech from the president. We watched it on TV from Logba. When the president drove out in a chariot/SUV to inspect all the military personnel lined up, it started raining very heavily. "Oh Mr. Mahama! Sorry-o!" But he kept on with his inspection, in spite of having no roof to protect him. It continued raining for a few hours, and the school children who were gathered to show off their marching were excused, but the military all had to stay, because, as was explained by the TV announcers, it is part of their training to endure harsh conditions. Or, as agreed upon by my homestay family and also the president himself, "Showers of blessing!"

Adome Bridge

Adome Bridge (located roughly at Kpong) was built around the time of Ghana's independence and is one of only a handful of crossings of the Volta River, I believe. I had gone to Accra last Friday to meet with and bring the botanist from the university back with me to the Logba Traditional Area to help me with plant identifications (and also to make use of the faster internet of the big city). On Monday, the botanist and I left Accra early in the morning in a trotro headed to Hohoe, which felt very luxurious as it had padded seats, air conditioning, and enough space for everyone to actually have their own seat!

I was feeling pretty grateful for those little luxuries, when we found ourselves shortly afterwards stuck in a miles-long line which didn't appear to be moving. The driver turned on the radio and after a bit of highlife music played, an announcement came on: "Adome Bridge is closed today for repairs for the next two years." They repeated, in case anybody didn't understand: "Adome Bridge is closed today for the next 24 months."

Well, that was news to me, and also to our driver!

There were two ferries set up to take vehicles and passengers across the river to replace the bridge, but of course they couldn't possibly handle the capacity needed, and given that it was the first day there were bound to be some problems. We waited in line for a few hours and then, with the water finally in sight, our driver got fed up with waiting and pulled angrily out of the line and drove straight back to the main road in the direction we'd come. Oh boy.

He decided to take the long way round to Sogakope, where there is another bridge, and was demanding an extra GHS 5 (about $2.50) from each of the passengers. This led to a pretty heated debate, which I didn't understand, followed by everyone somehow coming to the agreement that, since we couldn't get our spot in the line back anyway, we would go the long way around. But we would only pay GHS 4 each. So off we went.

You may recall that when I was ill previously and tried to go to Ho for treatment, I ended up on a bit of a tour of the southern part of the Volta Region, passing through Ho, Sogakope, Sege, and Battor on the way down, and then from Battor to Kpong to Logba on the way back. Well, I managed to top that with what should have been a very straightforward, four hours maximum trip from Accra to Logba!

We went from Accra to Kpong, waiting for several hours, then drove from Kpong past Battor, past Sege, through Sogakope, and north to Ho, finally going up Mountain Gemi and back down to Logba. We all sat in our seats in that luxurious trotro (the AC was quickly turned off when we got in the long line and didn't come on again during most of the detour) for a solid nine hours of travel. I think it would have almost certainly been faster if we'd waited a bit longer in the line, but maybe it never would have moved, I don't know. Needless to say, my bottom is still sore from the non-stop sitting.

Don't Make Plans

I have spent the past two months planning for this week, when the botanist would be able to come and work with me here. I had planned for us to go over the equipment and methods together with my research assistant Monday afternoon after we arrived so we were all on the same page and had a good understanding of each other's work. Since we arrived five hours after we were supposed to, that didn't work out.

I had then planned that we would spend four days working with the people we previously had made arrangements with, going to the bush and learning about plants together, documenting the names in Ikpana and collecting voucher specimens to be identified, thus connecting local knowledge to a broader shared system of knowledge.

The day we started work the power went out. Normally the power goes out for a few hours, or at most, half a day. So, I thought I was being really well-prepared to bring two full day's worth of batteries for everything! We finished our work and came home, and I did my best to quickly back up the materials we'd recorded. Power still out.

The next day, we woke up and carried on our work, and my video camera batteries started to get a bit low. We came back and I backed up the photos and audio but nothing else as my laptop soon died. Power still out. By this point, most everyone we were working with had run out of batteries in their phones, so we confirmed our arrangements for the next day in person.

On day three, we climbed to the top of the mountain and began our work there. Partway through the video camera died completely. The audio recorder and camera were still going, and the botanist didn't need any batteries for his secateurs, so we carried on with the work, just without any video. Rather frustrating given that I have three spare batteries for it (two of which are extra big) and it still wasn't enough, but not the end of the world since the audio, photos, voucher specimens, and field notes (Ikpana name and field identification) are reasonable. By the time we finished that day's work we learned that the power had at last returned! Hurray!

We rushed home and I rather desperately began charging batteries to prepare for our final day of working together here (at least on this trip).

Our final day, however, was not to be.

Today
At 4am I woke up and felt cold. I pulled a cloth over myself, which usually does the trick when I wake up in the morning feeling cold, but found that I still felt cold. Strange! I climbed under my bed sheet and put the cloth over top of that, and still felt cold. I got up and put on a sweater and some warmer pajamas and climbed back under the sheets, but something didn't feel right. I shouldn't be feeling that cold, I thought. So, I got out my thermometer and discovered I had a temperature of 100 F (37.8 C). I was still really sleepy, so I bundled myself up and fell asleep again.

At 6am I woke up feeling worse and took my temperature again: 101 F (38.3 C). At this point I went and told my home stay family and called home since it was still a reasonable time in that time zone. There was general consensus that I needed to see a doctor and I decided to try calling the university insurance folks again but convincing them to let me go to the nearer hospital in Kpando to avoid a repeat of last time (see blog post below). They were okay with that but asked me to let their own doctor speak to the hospital's doctor when I got there. I said fine.

It took a couple hours for us to leave, but the journey to Kpando wasn't too long or complicated (though I was in a bit of a fevery daze the whole time). I thought we were doing pretty well!

But being at the hospital and being seen by a doctor are definitely not the same thing. There was a long long line of people waiting to be seen, and it was moving very very slowly. So I sat in a very hard chair for a few hours (definitely not enjoying sitting anymore!) and was finally seen by a nurse, and after a little bit more waiting, by a doctor, who spoke with the travel insurance doctor as requested and then shocked me by not saying, "You have malaria." He said I was not dehydrated (hurray!) therefore it was very unlikely to be malaria.

Instead, he declared that I had dysentery. (I thought to myself, "And two of my oxen died trying to ford the river?" for those following along on the Oregon Trail.)

Apparently in tropical places dysentery is usually caused by a parasitic amoeba, entamoeba histolytica. Goodie.

So, I'm home in Logba Alakpeti again, taking my medicine and drinking plenty of fluids. I'm told I'm not supposed to eat any fruits or vegetables for a couple of days, which doesn't leave a whole lot for a vegetarian, but I had some boiled rice and an egg and the nurse in the compound gave me some vitamins. I had a hot bucket bath and a cup of tea and have just been resting since I returned. I still have a fever, but my spirits are feeling much better and, as usual, I will be better!

Photos

Now, don't worry. "Things you can buy from a trotro window" is still coming! In the meantime, here are some photos which I managed to upload while in Accra.

This is the fruit of dialium indum, more commonly called Velvet Tamarind. In Ikpana it's known as ikadza and in Accra most people call it yoyi. It makes a great travel snack, as you peel off the hard outer shell and eat the slightly sweet, slightly sour fruit inside, spitting out the seed (or seeds) in the middle.

Dialium indum fruit, seeds, and a couple small leaves

Dialium indum cracked open to show fruit inside

Dialium indum seed

And here is a tangerine from the tree in my family's compound here! The botanist says it is actually a hybrid of tangerine with some other citrus, not pure tangerine. Anyway, they are green when they are ripe.

Tangerine in family's compound

On my way walking back from Logba Klikpo one day a farmer came out of the forest with a friendly smile and a freshly plucked avocado in his outstretched hand. We greeted each other in Ikpana and he asked me to accept the avocado from him, which I happily did. This is a photo of one of the views along that rather beautiful walk.

Part of the walk from Logba Klikpo to Logba Alakpeti

Okay, back to bed with me!

Trotro to Ho

Okay, friends, here it is: the story of Lydia's travels to the hospital.

Getting Ill

The week I got ill, I had started work traveling around to the different towns to meet with people and discuss my PhD project with them. After two days, which were exhausting and somewhat frustrating for various reasons, I decided we needed to reassess the methodology and timeline a bit to find a way of working within my institutional requirements while still carrying out a reasonable research project given the circumstances of being in rural Ghana, not on a university campus where those requirements were designed to be carried out. That is a separate rant for a separate audience so I will spare you the details here and will work on finding a constructive way of addressing some of those issues in the future.

So, we stopped work after visiting only three towns and made plans to spend day three in Logba Alakpeti reviewing the past two days and coming up with a more appropriate system.

That night I got ill. My body was aching, my stomach was cramped, and I did not feel good. All night tossing and turning. In the morning I spoke with the nurse who lives in our compound, then I called the university's travel insurance company, as I had been instructed to do upon getting ill. The office in Accra said they couldn't help me directly but referred me to the headquarters in France. I called them and they were very helpful and had me speak to their in-office doctor who said my symptoms could be malaria or could be many other things but that I needed to be seen by a doctor in person to be sure. I said fine. They then called around to their contacts in Ghana to find out where I should go.

The nearest city is Hohoe, which is the district capital and is about an hour or so away by trotro. There's a hospital there. There's also a hospital in Kpando, which is just about as close as Hohoe. Slightly further away and in the opposite direction from Hohoe is the regional capital, Ho. Accra, Ghana's capital, is approximately four hours away by trotro.

I've been struggling to describe what happened next because it's simultaneously horrible and hilarious. Somehow, the person in the travel insurance office decided that the Catholic Hospital in Ho, which their office had once checked out (back in 2007), was the place for me to go. He had called their administrator who spoke to him professionally and seemed confident that their facilities were in good condition. In contrast, when he tried to call the hospital in Kpando, nobody answered at all.

Go to the Catholic Hospital, then! But go tomorrow, because the administrator says there is bad traffic.

Okay, fine. I'm not seriously ill, I just 'might be' seriously ill. I can wait until tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, I asked my family how far it was to Ho. "Oh about one and a half hours."

Okay, and how far is it to Kpando? "Oh, about one hour or one and a half hours."

So, if it's roughly the same amount of time, and the insurance company recommends I go to Ho, I guess I better go to Ho.

My homestay dad, then told me shortly afterwards, "I hear from a reliable source that there is no Catholic Hospital in Ho. But there is a Catholic Hospital in Kpando. Are you sure of where you are going?"

Well, I’m ill and feel horrible, so no I’m not sure, but okay, I'll call again and make sure.

I called the office in France. They told me again, "No, we couldn't reach the hospital in Kpando. The Catholic Hospital in Ho answered the phone. Here is their phone number and their address." The address was, "Battor High Road."

Is that a suburb of Ho? How can I know...

But I called the Catholic Hospital and asked where they were. They said they were definitely not in Kpando, and proceeded to give me driving directions from Hohoe.  I was feeling a bit confused, because I really don't know the roads here very well (I've never driven them and had passed through them only three times in my life as a somewhat oblivious passenger), but two of the towns he mentioned we could go through were towns I know roughly, having stayed in one of them during my travels here four years ago. From my memory, they are not really directly on the way between here and Ho.

But what do I know?

Trotro to Ho

I slept really well that night, for the first time in several days, and was feeling considerably better, except I wanted to keep sleeping when my family came and woke me up at around 6am so I could get ready to leave for the clinic.

I feel better! I want to stay in bed!

No no, you must be seen by a doctor because malaria can be dormant and you can feel fine, then it will get worse again. And everybody has already made arrangements. Vivian will travel with you.

Okay, fine. It's for the best that I be seen, just to rule out anything really scary.

So, I got ready and we went. By 7:20 am we were standing on the main road waiting for a trotro to Ho.

A car comes. "Ho?" Vivian asks. "Yes, yes get in!" the mate replies.

Turns out the car was going to Kpeve, which is on the way to Ho, but not quite Ho. Vivian told him off, and the other passengers made some comments about how important it is to be honest with your passengers, but we were already aboard so we went along anyway.

From Kpeve we got another trotro to Ho and arrived around 10 am or so. We called the hospital to find out where we should go via taxi. The helpful administrator said, "Okay, now go to Sogakope." Sogakope is a city...it's a city I stayed in for a few days with my other classmates learning about pottery making. It is near the coast. It is on the way to Togo. It is not near Ho.

I asked Vivian, "How far is it to Sogakope?"

"Oh, don't worry. It is not far. We can take a trotro there."

So, we got on a trotro to Sogakope, which we sat in for an hour or so waiting for it to fill with passengers before we could depart (Cephas informs me that some time ago Ghana tried a transportation system which operated on a set schedule and if you bought your ticket you could go home and rest until it was time to depart, but that quickly fell apart and now you just wait until there are enough passengers to fill the vehicle).

At last we left, and traveled along a graded but not paved road (aka full of huge potholes like nearly every road here - 'rainy season' doesn't seem to be one of the variables accounted for in road engineering designs yet) for an hour or two until we finally arrived in Sogakope. We got a cab and said, "Please take us to the Catholic Hospital." We got there and called the administrator and he said, "That is not the correct one. You must travel to Sege."

Okay, that seems odd. But, we paid the cab to take us back to where we started and he put us on a trotro going to Sege, wherever that is. The trotro called out, "Accra cra cra cra" as its final destination. Also odd. I said to Vivian I felt like maybe we were wasting our time. She said, trying to be comforting and supportive of our mission, "Oh, don't worry! We have come here to go to this place, we will go there. Feel free!"

Next time I will feel free to stay in bed.

In Sege, an hour or so later, we alighted and again called the administrator. He told us to take a trotro from there to Battor and to ask to alight at the Catholic Hospital.

Turns out Battor is not a suburb of Ho.

So, we got a trotro to Battor, alighted at the hospital, and a full seven hours after we'd left that morning, finally arrived at the correct place.

Let me say again: it takes four hours to get to Accra (which would have been an international travel insurance company's dream location for one of their clients to be treated!). We went from Logba to Kpeve, Kpeve to Ho, Ho to Sogakope, Sogakope to Sege, and Sege to Battor and it took seven hours. If you have a faster internet connection, feel free to follow along on the map!

As was also pointed out to me, it takes less than seven hours by flight to reach Ghana from the United Kingdom. For some time afterwards, if we wanted to make anyone laugh we just said, "UK to Ghana, seven hours. Volta Region to Volta Region, seven hours! Haha!"

Arriving at the Hospital
When I walked in to the hospital and spoke to the administrator he said, "Welcome! You are late and we have already closed, but we will have you seen, don't worry." I wanted to cry.

I filled out paperwork. They drew blood and had me pee into a little glass bottle in a bathroom with no soap, toilet paper, or toilet seat (and definitely no little packet of hygienic wipes with illustrated instructions like hospitals in the States give you). They took my pulse and blood pressure and poked my stomach. The doctor checked me out and said, "Malaria," which is also what they say if you walk into a hospital and are foreign before they've even asked you your name.

I'd taken my malarone every day except possibly one (oops) and hadn't been bitten by a mosquito since I'd left Accra over two weeks previously (still haven't - there aren't any mosquitoes where I'm staying). While I was in Accra I used bugspray diligently and slept under my mosquito net every night. But, you know, it could still be malaria.

Then the doctor told me, "We are detaining you."

"What? I want to go home!"

"You can't go home. It is too late and the journey is too long. Part of your treatment is rest. You will stay here tonight. And you are dehydrated. You will have an IV."

Well, no kidding, I'm dehydrated. I've been riding on trotros all day in the hot African sun. My water bottle ran out hours ago.

I cried.

They drew blood two more times (those two hurt), took another little bottle of urine, and stuck an IV in me (which hurt the entire time I was there, and the area the needle was in is still bruised and tender a week and a half later). I was placed in a room with an older woman and hooked up to an IV fluid dripper (whatever the technical term is).

Through the whole thing, Vivian stayed with me, reassuring me and telling me everything would be okay, don't worry. She went and got me a bit of food from the street when the nurse said I had to eat something with my medication (four malaria treatment pills twice a day, and two nasty-tasting pain killers to be chewed, also twice a day) and she got me a gatorade-like drink to help with the rehydration, as well as a huge bottle of water. She got herself some food and also got us some basic supplies so we could take bucket baths in the morning, have toilet paper, and eat our food out of bowls instead of plastic bags. etc. Through all of this, I have to say she was amazing and I’m very grateful she was with me and have a huge amount of respect for her strength.

The woman in the room and I each had hospital beds with a sheet, but Vivian and the other woman's friend slept on the floor on thin mattresses the nurses brought. We had it pretty luxurious compared to most of the people in the hospital, with air conditioning and a TV and mosquito screens on the windows. In trying to keep my family and the travel insurance office updated about my whereabouts with some important contact details just in case they needed to reach me, my phone battery died. I hadn't brought my charger (Ho is only an hour and a half away, after all!), but in the morning we found someone who lent me one. So I spent the evening crying, having fluid dripped into my bloodstream through my hand, and watching badly dubbed Spanish soaps and Japanese wrestling.

And aside from the trauma of the journey and having a pretty limited appetite, healthwise I felt fine...  Definitely an overkill to be lying on a hospital bed hooked to an IV.

I didn't sleep well. Vivian slept even worse because she had the full blast of the AC on her (I didn't even realize it was on until the morning when she asked me to turn it off - we had to ask the nurse for help figuring it out).

In the morning, Vivian got us some more food, we each had a bucket bath, and the nurses gave me my meds again. I asked if I could go home and was told to wait for my results from the doctors.

At around 10 am the doctors came and gave me my results: Negative for malaria!

"We still think you have malaria, so you must continue your treatment."
"Fine."

Negative for everything else! Except there was bacteria in my urine sample (no kidding?) which they interpreted to mean I had a UTI.
"Have you had pain on urination?"
"No."
"Increased frequency of urination?"
"No."
"We think you have a UTI."
"No, I don't."
"We're giving you antibiotics."
"Thank you, and I hear you, but I won't take them."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't have a UTI, and I don't want to take antibiotics unless it's absolutely necessary."
"Is it just you who feels this way?"
"I want to go home!"
"Okay. We will be discharging you."

Hurray! Immediately my spirits soared, my overall health jumped 100% and I felt so so happy. I can go home!

We then waited another several hours for them to get the bill prepared and finally (finally!!) they released me.

The Journey Home
I would love to write about the beauty of the journey, how I learned so many new things and saw such incredible and beautiful landscapes and wildlife, because that was a part of it. But what stands out to me isn't the weasel-creature that ran across the road (I'm told it was a squirrel, but as my dad says, "Squirrels are just rats in cute suits."), the three white cranes flying overhead, the rice paddies and mango groves, the herds of long-horned cattle walking past, or the boulder-strewn mountain with massive trees growing up to the sky. It was the fact that I was totally and utterly worn out emotionally and physically and then spent another seven hours traveling by trotro to get home well after dark. (If you're following along on the map, this time the journey was more direct and went from Battor to Kpong, Kpong to Logba, with another long stopover waiting for the trotro to fill in Kpong.)

Everyone welcomed us, but my homestay dad, though I'm sure he was well-meaning, made a comment to the effect of, "I told you there was no Catholic Hospital in Ho," which I can finally find funny. The next day I called the hospital administrator to thank him for his help, when what I really wanted to do was ask why he never bothered to mention to me or to the insurance people that he was not actually located in Ho (I'm fairly certain the answer will be, "Well you didn't ask that exact question!"). I also called the insurance team to thank them and to politely inform them that Battor is not in Ho and that it would have been much faster for me to go to Accra. (Next time, of course, I'm not going to call them at all, I'm just going to go to Kpando or Hohoe.) They politely updated the record.

So, I am home now and safe. I've taken time to just rest, and tomorrow I'm starting my work again. I've found this a challenging story to write (and even rewrite), as it's hard to convey how the tiny little things that keep one sane and feeling safe and supported just don't exist here in the ways that I'm used to. And how do I explain that having stomach cramps and body aches in West Africa could either mean you have a life threatening disease or could mean you were sleep deprived and stressed, but otherwise fine? And that not knowing and not being able to ask the right questions or get the right answers means you can take a trotro to Ho and end up ‘detained’ in a place called Battor, seven hours from home and what feels like forever away from your loved ones.

I take responsibility for my own naivety, and I'm extremely grateful that I was always in strong and caring hands (thank you, Vivian, and the rest of my homestay family!), and the people I spoke with in the insurance office were geniunely concerned about ensuring my well-being was cared for to the highest of standards (Kpando and Hohoe just didn't happen to be in their system and Ghana's geography was unfamiliar to them). It has been a learning experience.

So, thank you everyone for your ongoing support and little messages of encouragement or stories from your own adventures. It's always nice to hear from you. Stay tuned for "Things You Can Buy From A TroTro Window." And here is a photo of a kitten named Lucky, who joined our family one day, tied up in a sack (!), but has now gotten its strength up and befriended me enough to be willing to trade snuggles for some photos.

Lucky, the kitten

You will be better

Dear friends, I know it has been a while. I'm sorry - I got ill.

But fear not, I am (mostly) better now. I've been seen by a doctor (that is a story deserving about three blog posts of its own). And I am back at home in Logba now, resting and doing everything I'm told to fully recover.

In case you're curious, here is the officially compiled list, as has been explained to me, of:

Reasons Why Lydia Got Ill

• "You, you don't relax."
  "Yes I do! I make cups of tea and go for walks when I'm studying to take breaks."
  "No. That is not relaxing! You must sit. And enjoy your life. You are working too hard."
• Drinking sachet water
• "The sun is disturbing you."
  I think a variant of this is...
• "Ah, it's the weather."
• Riding a motorbike.*
  This is accompanied with an exasperated, "The roads here are not good!"
  (*I'm sorry, Mom! It was against my will. And luckily, now that it's on the official list of Reasons Lydia Got Ill, I have a support team who will back me up when I say I will not ride a motorbike...)
• Malaria
• Eating peanuts past dinner time (morning and afternoon are apparently fine times to eat them, though)

So, you can pick your favorites.

For those who aren't familiar with sachet water, in Ghana, tap water is generally not considered potable, so you get your drinking water in 0.5L plastic sachets, tear off a corner, and drink it from the bag. Sachet water is really not a bad thing (the alternative is expensive plastic bottles of the exact same water), but it can sometimes be a bit iffy. So now we are only purchasing the ones with the official stamp of approval from Ghana's certification board, even though locally that particular type is considered inferior (most people here drink rain water, aka 'God's blessing,' but nobody will let me).

The sun definitely can disturb me, but as long as I'm left to my own devices my shade-seeking behavior and thick layer of coconut oil is usually enough to prevent any suffering. There have been occasions when well-meaning friends have not quite understood that when I say the sun is too much I'm not joking... After one particularly long day at the university and a late-afternoon of trying to find shade in an utterly shade-free marketplace while shopping for ingredients, a friend laughed that the sun was too much for me and teased me for looking so miserable. The next day he asked why there were bruises on my face. I said, "They're not bruises! It's sunburn." The level of melanin in my skin is not quite up to the task of dealing with West Africa's sun for prolonged periods in the same way as most of (all of) my friends here.

So, next time I see a West African in the UK (or a Californian in Washington...) who looks very unhappy about the weather I will remind myself of this experience and be as supportive as I can, saying, "Oh, my friend. I can see that you are suffering."

And I will definitely not tease them!

For the full story of last week's adventures, stay tuned. I'm still not up to 100% energy levels, and it's a challenging story to write, but I will do what I can to put it into a blog-ready format soon.

In the mean time...

So you can have a better idea of where I am living, here is an evening-time photo of the road going through the Logba Traditional Area:

Logba Alakpeti as seen from the road from Accra looking towards Hohoe in the North.

And, by popular request, here is where I am located on the map (since you won't find it by doing a Google Search):

View Larger Map

How to wash your hair in a bucket bath
Lastly, I'm sorry I left you all hanging about how to wash hair in a bucket bath! Turns out my Grammy spoke the truth all along. Grammy always told us how her mother used to wash Grammy's naturally-curly, red hair (which is now bright snowy white) in rain water when she was a kid growing up in North Dakota. And sure enough, rain water solves the 'can't get the shampoo out of your hair' problem quite well. The tap water here comes from a bore hole and has lots of salt in it, so I'm told. Someone with faster internet and a better understanding of hair chemistry can provide a more detailed explanation, I'm sure. But it works!

The other trick is to use local soap, which is made out of burnt cocoa pods and locally-produced oils of various types (I'm fairly certain palm oil is one of them). My colleague, Cephas, has a nicely transcribed video of some women from the Likpe area further north of here explaining the process in Sekpele, a language closely related to Ikpana. Cephas is from Likpe and doing language documentation work in the area for his PhD now.

alata samina, one type of local soap, wrapped in paper. Apologies for the lack of scale. It's a lump about the size of a grapefruit, and is very soft.

That's all for now! If you simply can't wait for my next blog post, I invite you to read this one from the last time I was told I had malaria while living in rural Ghana: http://lydia-goes-abroad.blogspot.com/2009/10/tomorrow-or-two-weeks-in-rural-ashanti.html

I'm always happy to hear from any of you, with requests for topics to cover or with stories from your own life adventures. My greetings from Ghana!

Are you feeling cold?

My first week in Alakpeti has gone well. I'm in very good hands with my homestay family here and I am settling in, meeting more people, and slowly learning the language. The paramount ruler has now officially introduced me to the local rulers, elders, and queen mothers and they have officially welcomed me in their midst.

The entrance to my family's compound. The solid wood fufu mortar is next to the blue rain barrel (with an orange dish in it).

With the approval from the top level and the next level down, I will now be traveling to each of the Logba towns and villages (letting each one know when I'll be coming in advance) to meet with the people who have expressed interest in working with me. This will be the start of what is more conventionally considered to be 'language documentation' (of course, all of the preparation leading up to this is also an extremely important part of the work and is not to be dismissed as trivial! Planning, preparation, permissions, and getting to know people to a point of mutual trust and respect are also crucial to the work).

The view from across my family's cassava (and other things) garden to one of the peaks in the mountain range. The large palms are oil palms. I had palm fruit soup today with banku for lunch. The fronds are used for weaving and making hand-held brooms. The sap is tapped for palm wine and then distilled to make a local liquor (akpeteshie).  The fruit and nut are used for soup and oil. The oil can be used in making soap and 'red-red:' fried ripe plantains (which are red) with beans in palm oil (which is also red) - I had this for breakfast this morning. I have read that the husks of the fruit were previously charred and used to flavor water kept in tall ceramic containers with bulging bases and narrow necks (I would venture a guess that this maybe also contributed to purification of the water, but I am not an expert in this). The roots are used medicinally.
These are pretty powerful plants!

Since not (quite) all of my friends are linguists (I swear I have broad interests! Luckily, so do the bulk of my linguist friends), what is language documentation?

-eye stretch break-

Let me just pause for a second to admire the fact that about sixty feet outside my window a very large tree is blooming with triangular tufts of pink flowers. It is absolutely gorgeous!

Okay, language documentation is the documentation of language! This can involve written notes, audio recordings (on wax cylinders, as used to be done, or on SD cards, as is now becoming more common), video recordings (sign language research and gesture research make excellent use of this), and photographs to give context and visual referents. As we learned in the Plants Animals Words 2013 workshop, for plants a voucher specimen and botanical identification are also very important, and identifying animals can involve many things besides careful photographs, for instance information about behavior, flight patterns and wing shape (for birds), coloration, and scat.

Language is a powerful tool and it can be used to describe a diversity of experience in the natural (and supernatural!) world. Linguists are trained in many things, but by celebrating our own expertise and acknowledging our limits, we can benefit greatly from teaming up in a collaborative framework with many other experts, both from within the community in a participatory framework and also across disciplines in an interdisciplinary framework.

-ear break (do ears need to be stretched like eyes?)- 

There is a chorus of at least three completely different types of birds singing outside my window right now! And I think I hear my family preparing fufu...

Language documentation also includes a lot of metadata, which is information about the data, such as the names of those involved, how they were involved, the location, time, date, topic, equipment used, the languages included, and just about anything else you can think of to note that might be relevant either now or in the future. After my job working in the Endangered Languages Archive and going through the MA program in Language Documentation and Description, I now joke that, "I'm really not a fan of labels - but I do like metadata!"

Quick facts:

• Not everyone who does language documentation is working with an endangered language. You can document languages considered stable or dominant, as well.
• Not all languages are spoken. There are also sign languages, many of which are highly endangered. And there some amazing researchers whose focus is on documenting or advocating for these.
• Not everyone who does language documentation is an 'outside researcher.' There are a growing number of people who are speakers (or heritage speakers, whose parents or grandparents may have been speakers even if they themselves are not fluent) of the language they are documenting. 

As for myself, I am definitely in the first camp, and this obviously has implications for the work I am doing. Though I have been invited to do this work by the paramount ruler, have been welcomed by the local rulers, and have been adopted into the royal family by the paramount ruler and his wife (four years ago), I am still an outsider in many many ways. I was not raised in the Logba Traditional Area, let alone in Ghana. I am still learning to speak the language (though as I keep trying, people tease me that I am already an "Akpanadze" or [female] Logba citizen). And my skin color is obviously very different, and with it comes all sorts of connotations. So I acknowledge this as I do my work and am educating myself on critical ways of approaching my research. I welcome critique from those with other perspectives and experiences than my own.

-smelling break! (don't 'break' your nose)- 

Outside my family's compound there are several sweet smelling trees, including Frangipani (Plumeria spp.) and also this one, which I believe is Ylang Ylang (Cananga odorata). In the evenings when there is a breeze its lovely scent wafts throughout the compound. I keep a few crushed up flowers by my bed.

Ylang Ylang tree (Cananga odorata) just outside my family's compound. In the evenings we often sit in chairs out here to enjoy the cool breeze and visit with neighbors who pass by.

Fruit of Cananga odorata. 

Flower of Cananga odorata.

I leave you now with a few more observations:

Women in transportation

In Accra just before I left, I rode for the first time in a trotro which had a female 'mate!' (Well, aside from the time in Kumasi when the mate was taken away by the police [both smiling and joking with each other] for trying to steal passengers from another trotro at a busy stop and my classmate, Rachel, happily took on the role of mate for the rest of the journey.) The mate is the person who calls out the destination of the trotro, collects money, and tells the driver when to 'bus stop' and then 'yenko!' ('Let's go!'). I also recently was beeped at by a female taxi driver - again, the first I'd seen in Ghana. Beeping at someone with your horn is usually a question, accompanied by a questioning hand gesture, meaning, 'Need a lift?' It is most frequently directed at those who look like the can afford a taxi, such as anyone in a suit or anyone who looks foreign (or exhausted by the heat!).

The cold

Up until recently I had never heard a Ghanaian in Ghana swear (at least not in English). What caused this sudden need for expletives? I was being told of the person's trip to London and how cold it had been! So cold that it made your hair stand on end. So cold that you had to wear thick socks under your shoes. So cold that you had to wear a warm hat with only your eyes and nose sticking out, and three layers of shirts with a jacket! -expletive expletive-

In contrast:

I was recently asked one evening, "Are you feeling cold?" (I was wearing shorts, a tank top, and sandals, and quite enjoyed the breeze!)

I couldn't help but laugh and laugh, then managed to reply, "I've just come from London!" Everyone joined me in laughter. They insist that if I wake up at 4:30am and go outside it will feel "cold like London!" but I've not yet tested this.

Okay my dears, that's all for now!

A fortnight in Accra, onward to the mountains!

Hello my dears, it has been a long time!

Just over four years ago I left Ghana with an invitation to return. Since then I have been working towards that aim, while also caring for myself, spending time with my loved ones, learning many new things, and doing what I can to enjoy my life!

But at last, I am here again. Akwaaba-oo!

Where am I and what am I doing, you may ask?

After two weeks in Accra, I am now in Logba Alakpeti, which is located in the mountains in the Volta Region. While Accra was too hot and dusty for my poor unacclimated self, Alakpeti is marvelously comfortable with lush greenery. It is not too hot, not too cold, and the humidity is just lovely. The family I am staying with are wonderful and I have a nice room with everything I need (bed, table, chair, and a fan). I'm very happy to be here!

I am here to continue a research project I started four years ago documenting plant names in Ikpána, this time for my PhD, as requested by the Unansanango (Paramount Ruler) of the Logba Traditional Area. The language, people and area are all called Logba by most people, but the autonymous terms are Ikpána for the language and Akpanawò for the people.

Since it is difficult to keep track of what I have told to whom, I will use my blog to try to update as many people as possible with occasional stories from my time here. Please feel free to make requests for anything you would like me to write about in more detail!

As a disclaimer, these stories are only my own observations and opinions and are not meant to reflect anything deeper or more insightful than that. I have only been to Ghana once before and am still a "baby to the system," as my friend Kofi puts it.

For this post, I will start with a few of the challenges I've faced and then move on to some of the exciting and fun things I have experienced in order to end on a positive note. I am grateful for both the challenges and the opportunities that have arisen during my time here so far.

Accra was difficult for me, as I generally don't find myself feeling very comfortable in cities. It was hotter than I remembered (harmattan winds!), which made it hard for me to sleep well at night, and I was usually covered in a thick coating of red dust from the minute I stepped out of my door. My long hair has been a new experience for me, because I had very short hair (and no hair!) when I was here last time, and washing long hair in a cold bucket bath is a skill I had not yet acquired (any tips are welcome).

My room in Accra and my badly set-up mosquito net! I miss the pop-up one I used to have, but thanks, Allanah, for giving me this one.

I had forgotten just how exhausting it is to be the only obruni (foreigner) in a market place, being shouted at, grabbed at, and stared at non-stop. I have learned that I much prefer being called to with "Sistah!" than "Obruni!" My Twi has declined rapidly in the four years I've been away and I felt very out of place, needing to rely almost entirely on the goodwill of other people to get around. Thankfully, the goodwill of people has turned out to be very strong!

From the moment I made it out of customs in the airport I have been in good hands as my Ghanaian friends have come to support me. Dear Joyce (and your family!), Clement, Nana Ama, Kofi, Ishmael, Ishmael's mum, Loretta, Rita, Mabel, Auntie Abigail and all the others, your kindness and generosity have meant so so much to me, so thank you!

As my supervisor reminded me, trusting in and even depending on others is something to embrace, rather than to fear. And as my dear friend, Angel, also reminded me, "These are rare moments in our lives and we would do well to cherish every moment however hot or uncomfortable." They are right, and it is with a good heart and an open mind that I come here.

On to some of the fun things!

My neighbors near Ritz Junction in Accra quickly became very dear friends of mine. In exchange for me teaching them to make pizza, they have been teaching me Twi (mostly be teasing me in it) and also how to prepare Ghanaian dishes.

Thanks to their family, I have now accomplished one of my life goals: I have learned to prepare kenkey!

Also, banku. Both are cooked doughs - kenkey (specifically, Ga kenkey) is made from fermented corn dough, balled up and wrapped in corn husks and banku is made from cassava dough mixed with fermented corn dough. Both are delicious! Banku must be swallowed, not chewed, and there seems to be some debate about whether kenkey is chewed or swallowed, but I think there was general agreement that it can be chewed. I have not tried pounding fufu yet as my neighbors think that it will make my hands rough and won't let me. I will try again...And Aunt Sylvia, I am working on getting you a video of some experts demonstrating how to pound fufu with great skill!

I am really enjoying fresh coconuts, sweet juicy mangoes, pineapple, and even some new fruits I haven't been able to look up yet because the internet is a bit slow. I drink Ghanaian cocoa every day (on its own). I'm only a bit pink from the sun after several long days being out in it for too long (thanks, coconut oil!) and am in good health, so I'm very grateful!

Sitting in the shade of a neem tree (azadirachta indica) with a gentle breeze, and sometimes the company of a friend, is a lovely way to study, it turns out. And I've been making new friends at the department of botany and the herbarium at the university, including a PhD student studying mycology (he says the university is hoping to create a microbiology department so he can go there rather than be studying fungi while lumped in with botany). There are some very kind people there who study ethnobotany and are documenting the usages of plants throughout Ghana (but have not yet worked in the Volta Region) and an expert in plant identification has agreed to come with me for part of my research to assist me with voucher specimen collection and identification of plants while I do my language documentation work. Hurray for collaboration in practice!

(Yes, Plants Animals Words 2013 friends, I am wearing my green hat with pride!)

drumming with new friends in Accra
(photo by Cat Hockings)

Mottos and advertising
As many of you know, shops and vehicles in Ghana often have a motto or a name reflecting something which the owner would like to share with the world.

A taxi on the way home from seeing Unansanango proclaimed:

Be fluent!

A passport photo business had a large sign by the road advertising themselves as "Gye Nyame ('accept God' though usually translated as 'except God') Passport Photos" with four photos of Obama smiling happily for his passport picture.

Today on my journey in a trotro (Ghana's convenient and affordable, privately-operated public transportation) to the Volta Region I passed by a shop which was named:

He is alive

fresh goat and cow meat

Okay my friends, that is a small update from me. I am doing well, learning a lot, and experiencing many new things. I hope that all of you are enjoying life and I'm always happy to hear from you!