Let the games Commence - Volleyball at Sawla
In my last post I wrote about my arrival at the Sawla Vocational Training Centre in Northern Ghana and my experiences talking to the female students about their lives.
The next stage of my visit involved being shown the sleeping arrangements. There were 12 sets of bunk-beds in each dorm but more than 24 girls in each room; many more put mats on the floor between the beds to sleep. My tour progressed to the food storage area where there were boxes all with locks containing yams, oil, salt, rice and other basic cooking ingredients to feed the girls for the term. Seeing this triggered a flash-back to my own experience at boarding school, we had boxes like this but that was for “tuck”, we didn’t have to worry about getting three square meals a day. Instead we were concerned with chocolates and sweets, neither of which these girls are likely to treat themselves to any time soon. Most of these girls have travelled far from home to study at Sawla and, although it was their choice to come in order to further their education, simply feeding themselves so far from their families is difficult. For many of the students the contents of their food boxes will not last the whole term and they will need to find some part-time work to pay for additional food, this is on top of chores, revision, cooking, cleaning and homework.
In the end I stayed at Sawla for most of the day as I wanted to grasp an idea of what happens once lessons finish. As food is so scarce each girl cooks separately on her own charcoal fire using her own pan and utensils which she then washes up, dries and locks away in her food storage box. I can’t help thinking this could be done much more efficiently but when every last spoonful of rice counts you can understand this “looking after number one” mentality. After eating, some of the girls erected the volleyball net and started to play, desperate to show me how good they were. Most of them wore shorts and t-shirts but many played in their school dresses and shoes, slipping as they reached for the ball; the dry, hard ground meant grazed limbs were common.
I watched them play until the light started to fade and, when the time came, I was sad to leave. The conversations I had with these girls and the time I spent listening to their stories has filled me with hope that the future of places like Northern Ghana is in safe hands. Despite all the obstacles in their path, the will to succeed here is incredible, I just hope we can help them to reach their goals.
Weaving their way to a brighter future!!
With another journey under my belt I find myself in Sawla and, I have to admit, I love this place! It is my second visit and already I have a good feeling, the girls here are incredible, they work hard and are determined to be somebody. When we arrive the girls are all in class, the local authority has sent some health professionals to talk to them about safe sex, hygiene and pregnancy. The head teacher apologises as they only called last night to say they were coming, I tell her not to worry and instead tell me how things are going at the centre.
The headmistress tells me that the centre is going well but the dorms are overcrowded, there are insufficient resources and teachers. COCO’s assistance in the provision of 4 looms for the girls to weave on and materials for practical tailoring and tie and dye lessons are appreciated. The head tells me that girls are excelling in dress making, ICT, catering, textiles and hairdressing. They all work hard and any students who do not are given strict instructions to improve; the headmistress clearly runs a tight ship! We talk some more about plans for the future and then I am asked to address the girls who have now finished their sexual health talk.
I walk into the packed classroom, there must be over 200 girls crammed in here. As soon as I walk in, they burst into song, a familiar tune, their school welcome song for visitors. Once they finish I am asked to introduce myself and say what I am doing here: I always hate this bit. Nevertheless I tell the girls I am really keen to talk to them about how things are going at the centre and how the equipment COCO funded has helped. I ask for volunteers to take part in interviews this afternoon and lots of hands go up, the head mistress asks the form tutors to organise them under the tree ready to chat to me. I am really impressed at the willingness for the teachers to let me talk to the girls alone without supervision, this means there’ll be less chance of the teachers making sure the girls only tell me the good things.
The focus groups do not disappoint, the girls confide in me more than I anticipated, telling me how the locals call them a derogatory name meaning “old maid” because they are all studying vocational skills for which there is no upward age limit and they have missed out on secondary school and or college, not to mention marrying young and having babies. It is these stereotypes that hurt the girls but seem to make them very strong. They long to travel so that new people and influences can come into their lives and they talk to me of becoming fashion designers and succeeding in life where their parents did not I feel I’m amongst girls who will – regardless of the odds – make something of their lives.
Now if you leave the skeleton you'll just get it for breakfast...
After my visit to Buipe, I stay overnight in a local guest house and that evening, when hunger takes over around 7pm, I make my way to the restaurant. There is no one around but I can hear singing not too far off. I call out, “hello” and a small Ghanaian lady appears from what must be the kitchen. Her English is not great but we greet each other with smiles and handshakes and I ask her if I might be able to get something to eat, she nods and retreats back into the kitchen. I’m unsure of whether I made sense as I go back to the room to fetch my book. A few minutes, just as I get back to the kitchen, the lady comes back and tells me “you wait in room I call you”. Seems to make sense so I return to my room and even manage to find a channel on TV which is not fuzzy, it’s a badly dubbed Italian soap opera but the acting is so bad I’m pretty hooked. An hour later, there’s a knock at the door and I am presented with a huge plate of Rice and Tilapia. I pay 7 Cedis for the meal with one extra for her trouble but she makes no move to leave. I ask if there is anything else she needs and she replies “I want to see you eat” a strange request but I oblige nodding my approval at the tasty dish, “delicious” I say and she nods with a huge grin and leaves me to tackle the rest in peace. I am glad she’s gone because I haven’t yet learnt to eat the African way, bones, heads et al and hope I don’t cause offence by leaving the skeleton!!!
Suddenly there is a loud rumble of thunder followed a few seconds later by a lightning bolt and then the rain comes. The noise on the iron sheet roof is incredible! I can’t even hear the badly dubbed Italian soap opera. Once it stops I go outside and see that the rain has brought the frogs and toads out in their masses – and they are huge! I venture out hunting for a good frog photo before calling it a night and heading to bed to be lulled into a sound sleep by the frog chorus of Buipe after a night to remember!