Bracing for boredom, embracing slowness

It's 7.52am, day 14 in Kumasi and I'm waiting for my breakfast at the guesthouse's cafe. Both of the cooks are gone, mostly likely to get the eggs for the omelette that I ordered.

There is almost never any rush here and I’m starting to embrace the languid pace at which things inevitably get done. I never realized that I have this inert compulsion to rush things until I arrived in Kumasi.

‘Fast food’ here means ordering fried rice from a street vendor, then taking a seat on his wooden bench and spending the next ten minutes or so fielding his questions about my order – beans? No beans? Cream (mayonnaise)? No chicken, just veg? Eat here or send?

It’s been ten minutes – yes, I checked the time – and the cook with the sleeping baby on her back has returned with a package and heads straight for the kitchen. My stomach is growling from last night’s meagre dinner of instant noodles and a mango.

During the pre-departure training in Toronto, we were warned by previous Ghana interns that entertainment, especially by way of internet, is scarce here. We should stock up on books and movies because boredom and monotony will inevitably set in. At this, I felt a surge of panic.

My confidence at living with scarce – not completely without – internet for two months started to waver. My Dell Inspiron Mini – the one that is so portable and compact – doesn’t play DVDs. I never realized this before because I’ve always streamed movies and videos from the internet. I needed to stock up on the other alternative means of entertainment – books.

Interestingly enough, I stumbled upon Carl Honore’s “In Praise of Slowness.” In it Honore talked about the maddeningly fast pace at which the first world lives in today and its dire consequences. He talked about the growing ‘slow’ movement sweeping across Europe and parts of Asia which involves everything from slow foods to architecturally-structured slow cities to slow work out. I read the book throughout my flight here and I felt my panic subside. Perhaps this rush-free existence in languid Kumasi wouldn’t be too hard after all.

As I’m writing this, both my friends are out of town. Chris is en route to Paris and Leah is at a press conference in Accra. To make matters worse (perhaps better), it’s my day off from work so I have even more time to contemplate the passing seconds. I now remember what it'slike to have all the time in the world.

My to-do list for the next 2 months.

Note: I have since gotten myself an external modem so that I can go online whenever, wherever. However, the connection is never fast enough to stream videos and I have to ration my usage since I'm on a pay-as-you-go plan so, technically speaking, I'm still on a strict internet diet.

From Ghana with Love

It's day 3 here in Kumasi, day 2 at Luv FM and day 7 in Ghana.

I'm still adjusting to the heat but the move to Kumasi has certainly made things easier. The heat was constant and high in Accra. Here in hilly downtown Kumasi, the air is mostly cooler and drier.

My first day at Luv FM was full of excitement (at least, for me it was). I got to meet the lively staff at the station and two inspiring journalists who have done some amazing human rights stories.

The first is Ohemeng Tawiah, a small, soft spoken and somewhat shy guy. He showed me a video documentary he produced about a girl who was involved in a car accident and had had both her legs amputated while the driver of the car remained free. Thanks to his work, the driver has since be charged in court and the girl's family was awarded 6000GHc in compensation. Talk about power of the pen.

The second journalist is Kwabena. I was told by the station manager, Saeed, that I will be working with Kwabena as a start. Kwabena wasn't in the office at the time because he had gone to Agogo to investigate a story about Fulani herdsmen who have been ravaging local farmlands with their cattle. The Fulanis came from the Sahel region and are hired by influential Ghanaians to herd cattle. They graze their cattle on farms run by Ghanaian farmers, destroying acres of crops at a time. Locals can do little as these herdsmen are often armed with guns and AK47s. They also pollute water sources and have been known to harass and assault local women. Local authorities, in the meantime, have done very little to help.

Having heard all this, I imagined Kwabena to be a giant of a man. The person that walked in at the end of the day instantly reminded me of Malcolm Gladwell with glasses and darker skin. He did not look like someone who would be seeking out men with AK47s. But he is. He reported that he had to take a bus to Agogo, and then had someone transport him on a motorcycle to get to the farm that had been hijacked by a group of Fulani herdsmen. Whenever he needed to record sound, he and the driver would pretend that there was a problem with the motorcycle. The driver would pretend to fix it while Kwabena discretely held out his recorder.

He's planning to speak to the Chief District Officer of Agogo tomorrow. It will be an hour's drive out of Kumasi and he warns me that I might not be able to handle it. I can't wait to go.