2010 Ghana Immersion Programme

Being the first day of our immersion trip, no one knew what to expect from our visit to St. Anthony’s Primary and J.S.S.(Junior Secondary School), located an hour outside our base in Bantama. The passing scenery provided me with some light entertainment as we discussed trivial matters on the bus, a pile of greasy engines stacked about 15 ft. tall, the traffic ever hectic and the various amusing signs such as “God’s Time Is Best” and “Genius College”. It was when the bus turned onto a dirt road that we got a sense of the rural settings we were about to encounter. A mile down the red earth road lined with tall plants and small houses, we encountered a clearing with two makeshift sets of goal posts and 3 separate one story buildings. What surprised me most was the style of the buildings; they seemed like they should belong in the port of a colonial town like Zanzibar or Cape Town, their low roofs, shuttered windows and colonnades were a testament to this.

We walked up the dusty track and a tall woman with curly hair came the opposite direction. Her long yellow and green dress was visible from a distance and she presented us with a huge smile. She shook her hands; “Awkwaaba, I am Madam Teresa”. We walked with her all the while attracting more and more green uniformed children asking us our names and how we were. We responded with the customary “I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” The people who attempted anything more complex were met with giggles. We sat down in the school library on hard wooden seats and gazed around. Despite the effectively barren shelves, the headmistress Madame Teresa glowed with pride, as many schools in Africa do not have the luxury of such facilities. After a short time a crowd of excited school children gathered at the door, staring in. One member of our group took a photograph of the scene; the flash from his camera was met with a roar of excitement and delight as the children scattered with surprise. The chief arrived with his grey robes and gold rings and sat himself in a chair opposite us. Madame Teresa filed in with the teachers in tow, shaking hands and welcoming us. The decision was taken to move our gathering to underneath a nearby tree; the reason would later become evident. As we moved the furniture, dozens of children rushed to help. Many of us refused politely as our would be helpers only reached up to our hips. As we sat down in the shadow cast by the tree, we had attracted quite a crowd. The curiosity of the little children was evident as they peered around pillars to gain a look at the white boys in khakis and white t-shirts, that had rolled up to visit them.

The headmistress acted as the linguist between ourselves and the chief as is customary. They thanked us for the work we had done with Aidlink in building school blocks. The classes had previously been taught under the tree where we sat. We then realised the decision to have the meeting underneath that tree was to demonstrate the difficulty of teaching a class there. Being in 5th year, I have often complained about my class rooms being too hot or too cold, at that moment I knew I had nothing about which to complain. We were given a guided tour of the school. With each step we took more and more children arrived. They shook our hands and the boys spoke in the international language that is football. “Messi or Ronaldo?” they shouted. “Essien” I replied much to their delight. We were shown the toilet block under construction and the builders who make the bricks by hand. The next part of our tour brought us to the J.S.S. (Junior Secondary School). The mood of happiness and the upbeat feeling brought by the school children was somewhat dampened by this classroom block. The roof was riddled with holes and gaps. The classrooms were small, dark and covered in graffiti. A teacher told me that when it rains, they are forced to send the pupils home (and when it rains in Africa, it really rains). By this stage the children had overcome the shyness that had restricted some of the younger children. They came up in throngs to see the “obebrunis” (white boys). We were given the road by the chief (visitors must ask for the road before they leave as is custom in Ghana). We walked to the bus and received our goodbyes from the 470 students and the 19 teachers at St. Anthony’s. The delight was evident in the children’s faces as we left; their friendly smiles and waves will forever be remembered by the group.

The classroom block with the broken roof had hit me especially hard, to the point that it convinced me to do more work for development. It has been a defining moment for me; both on this trip and in life. And when the rain petered down on the city as I wrote; I thanked God for the roof keeping me dry.

Dáire O’Driscoll