The Field Researcher's Tale

Preface: A couple of BBC stories from this week I found interesting.

Former Ghanaian government minister, Elizabeth Ohene, writes on perceptions--modern and historical--of Chinese investment in Africa, noting specifically cases of infrastructure projects around Accra. The article also talks a bit about a China's relationship with Africa during the independence period, a relationship whose remnants (i.e. mass rally squares in all major towns, Soviet-style architecture, etc.) are still quite visible across Ghana. On the Accra roads she mentions, in my experience, the road west to Takoradi is probably the best road in Ghana, comparable to any major US highway, whereas the one going north to Kumasi requires nerves (and bowels) of steel. In any case, my bellwether for Ghanaian opinion on foreign investment will still be to see which flags are proudly displayed in tro-tros and taxis.

Apparently there's a new board game out on creating a United States of Africa. I wonder if it'll be anything like Monopoly?

~~

My normal day typically starts with me waking up around 6.15am--initially this was not by choice since as an undergrad I happily slept until 9am (better than a lot of my peers, actually), but in Ghana the work day kind of starts at 5am. The alarm clock is set for 6.15, but I have received calls from teams and contacts even earlier. Always fun when that happens.

Today's assignment: track down a team in Ashanti Region, meet up with them, take notes, bring back their completed questionnaires to Kumasi to start reviewing them, pass notes on to Accra and Cambridge. Actually, this is basically every day's assignment, just with different teams. I pride myself on my navigational abilities, so I've been quite successful in doing this with the five teams that are within three hours' tro-tro ride from Kumasi. False sense of security right there.

This morning, I could not get in touch with the team supervisor for about three hours, severely hindering my departure time. When I did finally reach him, I had a typical phone chat with him:

[loud background noise on his end, consisting of crying babies, goats, crying baby goats, screaming Pentecostal preachers, turbo diesel engine, overhead aircraft and Nigerian movie]

Me [practically screaming]: Hello?
[background noise]
Me: Hello?!

Supervisor: Hello?! [five second delay] Joe?

Me: Yes! [mentally skipping all greeting formalities and other chit-chat to cut straight to the point, hoping to overcome background noise] Where are you?!

Supervisor: I am fine, how are you?

Me: Uhhh, fine as well. I need to visit your team today, where are you?

Supervisor: Oh, we are in [garbled noise]

Me: What?

Supervisor: So we'll see you in a few hours?

[in the background Nigerian movie, a diesel-powered airplane has crashed into a sea of goats, prompting excessive infant crying]

Me: NO NO WHAT VILLAGE ARE YOU IN?!

Supervisor: Oh, Apenimadi.

Me: Okay, which junction do I turn at?

Supervisor: Go on the Bibiani road.

Me: Then what?

Supervisor: Alight at [garbled noise], you will find a car to hire there.

Me: Wait, say that again.

Supervisor: [garbled noise.]

Me: Argh, once more.

Supervisor: Kwansinsin. It is spelled K-W-A-N-[garbled noise]-I-N-S-[garbled noise]-N.

Me: Uhhh, okay, I'll see you in a couple hours.

~~

This is where I check my Ghana road map, which is surprisingly good, to chart the course: tro-tro from Kumasi to Nkawie, transfer to another tro-tro to Kwansinsin, hire car to Apenimadi. Simple, right? Expected cost: 10 Ghana cedis.

A couple issues: why not take a tro-tro that goes all the way to Bibiani and alight on the way to Kwansinsin? Because that car will take much longer to fill; Nkawie, and most destinations closer to Kumasi, fill much faster. Other issue: my map reads "Kwanfinfi". No big deal, plenty of things in Ghana have multiple spellings. Or maybe it's like the Constitution where f's look like s's or something.

I leave Kumasi at 11am and make it to Nkawie at noon. Fifty-five pesewas. Piece of cake. Because these survey books I was picking up are heavy, I left the camera safely locked back in my room. Had I known what was about to transpire, I would have brought two cameras.

As I leave the first tro-tro, another one immediately pulls up behind it. I step up to the mate:

Me: Kwansinsin?

Mate: [looks puzzled]

Me: Kwansinsin?

Mate: Yes, yes, get in.

Normally this works; mates usually understand me. And I figured, this tro-tro is going in the right direction, Kwansinsin is like five miles away, I'll get there.

Except for the fact that the map was right. Kwanfinfi.

The tro-tro stops at a town called Mpatasie or something, all the passengers alight.

Last passenger, to me [in Twi]: Where are you going?

Me: Kwansinsin.

Passenger: Where?

Me: Kwansinsin.

Mate: Oh, this car is going back to Kumasi.

Me: WHAT?!

Passenger: I think he means Kwanfinfi.

Mate: Oh, we'll drop you at the junction and you'll find a car there.

Probabilistically, that is a worst-case scenario. Imagine being stuck, somehow, on the second floor of the Empire State Building and you need to get to a higher floor. Good luck finding an (local, not express) elevator going up that's not full. Well, that was me--a few miles after a main town, watching full tro-tro after full tro-tro pass me by. I waited almost an hour at that junction before finally a completely empty tro-tro pulled up.

Me: Are you going to Kwanfinfi?

Mate: No.

Me: But you're going in that direction?

Mate: Yes.

Yet another probabilistic decision: stay and hope for a tro-tro with a spot, or take my chances with moving on in the same direction? I decide on the daring.

I get dropped off three miles down the road, the tro-tro turns around for Kumasi and I am still not in Kwansinsin/Kwanfinfi. At this point I start to wonder if I am in Zeno's paradox of motion or something. I ask a village for Kwanfinfi--he points in the direction and says "two miles".

Okay, two miles. Despite the scorching heat, I can do two miles. Seven years as a Florida Boy Scout prepare you for times like this. An average person can walk that in like 40 minutes. Not bad.

So an hour and half later with about 1000 fewer calories I end up in Kwanfinfi. Not a bad hike actually as the countryside is really lush and beautiful, and I passed through about four towns with hordes of children wondering what this obruni was doing.

Now it's past 2pm. Time to get that car. And there is only one car--with eight people already sitting in it.

Driver, sensing economic opportunity: Where are you going?

Me: Apenimadi.

Driver: Dropping (chartering the cab)?

Me: Shared is fine.

Driver: None of them are going to Apenimadi. Twenty Ghana cedis.

Me, having paid five the last time I chartered a rural taxi: No way, that's too high.

Driver, who may never have taken an economics class, is still fully aware of his monopolistic bargaining position: It is far, the roads are bad, twenty cedis.

Well, I have no choice but to pay it (this is a round-trip fare). A few people get out of the car, but we still drive along with seven: the driver, me and another guy shotgun, four people in the back. The car is the most beat-up Toyota Tercel from the Carter Administration, lacks sideview mirrors, has cardboard patching up the doors, insides covered in a thin layer of dirt and diesel fumes leaked into the cabin, which luckily was well ventilated because 3/4 of the windows were gone.

The road was probably the second worst I'd been on in Ghana (Western Region was the worst); dirt, overgrown trees with branches that smack into the inside of the car, car bottoming out, criss-crossed planks that constitute "bridges", etc. This car actually had one of those orientation meters in its dash, and there were definitely quite a few rapid-fire 15 degree lists because of the numerous bumps and grooves in the road, which, had it been raining, would have easily required a four-wheel drive.

It took about an hour to get to Apenimadi in this car. Despite the rough road and toxic fumes, the view was incredible: we are driving towards a mountainous forest reserve that is renowned in Ghana, so the trees were getting taller and more majestic as we drove along. It was very quiet out there--only the sound of the car laboring along.

By now it is 3.30 and I am praying the team is still there. I get there about 10 minutes before they are about to leave. Whew. They are happy to see me, and I am equally happy to see them. The supervisor has one more task to complete, a water-toxicity test on the village water supply, and he invites me to accompany him down to the stream.

The stream is in the forest. We walk down a steep, rocky hill, surrounded by 50-foot-tall trees, lots of greenery, chirping birds. The trees own up into a small grotto, in the middle of which is a pool, less than a foot deep, about the size of a queen-sized bed, filled with the tiniest brook gushing from a rock. Aside from the occasional birds this is the only sounds. This is probably the most serene, peaceful place I have been in a long time. The taxi driver joins us, and he too stands there in awe for a few seconds. The supervisor gets to work--out comes the sterile plastic collection bag and he collects directly from the tiny gush. He tells me that the source is high up in the forested mountains and that this tiny stream cascades all the way down here underground through the rock formations.

With that, we pack up and pile into the car for the ride back. Eventually eight people get into this car, which turns into a very dusty ride. I took a shower before writing this post, and watched a nice layer of silt make its way down the drain. My pack is also quite dirt encrusted. All part of the work.

I guess we'll see how tomorrow goes. And I will never again leave behind that camera.