Pioneering in Agona Swedru

After a week in Accra the group forged into new territories and made its way to the central part of the country and into Agona Swedru. This is a new venture for Warwick in Africa and thus for the teachers in the local area.

For context, the closest cashpoint that accepts foreign cards is two hours away. People take out their phones to snap away pics of the 'white people on a bus!' Openly, we get stares and smiles. Our school is a forty minute drive down dirt roads; this is the 'close' school. And on our way home from the close school, Ellis, our driver, hit a baby goat napping in the middle of the road. 

And still. 

Swedru is charming. Hardly a tourist destination and absolutely off the beaten path. But it's real in a way that a big city can never be.  Let me explain--London is a shoddy representation of how England lives. It's full if immigrants (of which I am one), it carries a bulk of the country's wealth, universities, jobs and infrastructure. It's easy to see extreme wealth standing proudly next to extreme poverty. And in many ways, Accra is the same. 

In Swedru, what you see is what you get. The community is relatively rural--corn fields and palm trees stand side-by-side. But the houses we've seen are a lot more solid--less shack like structures and more concrete buildings. There's a greater Muslim influence here too--Islamic schools and mosques dot the area. Nobody bats an eyelid. Life revolves around the local church or mosque and people seem to care about each other. It makes me wonder when western society became so insular, so selfish and so blatantly consumerist. 

As for the schools, the ones we've seen and been in are more cared for. They seem more modern than their Accran cousins, and the campus of the senior high school we're teaching at is similar in size to Hornsey. 

In town, a huge market splits the area in two. It's a true market--with foods and smells and goods for sale. Like any true market, it assaults the senses; smoked fish seem to be the thing for sale here, vendors beckon you to buy their fish, their spices, their truly gigantic snails. No one hassles or heckles you though--you are free to browse as you please. Another welcome change from Accra.  And if you venture back, you'll find stalls and stalls of fabric, tailors and seamstresses. Fabric is inexpensive and getting something made is even cheaper. I've paid 15 cedi, the equivalent of £5 ($7)  to have a shirt made for Paul. 

The rest of the town's streets are dotted with shops, a small grocery store selling British biscuits imported from China with mandarin script on the side, various tailors, coffin sellers and ridiculously named store fronts. There is also one restaurant: Sizzlers, that sells an array of Ghanaian food alongside burgers, chips and pizza.

It's quieter than Accra but is still by no means quiet. You can find everything in one area that spans the distance of roughly a mile.  The open sewers still smell and traffic still abounds, particularly on market day.  But somehow this place feels a bit more real.  It's not everyone's cup of tea.  

Fortunately for me, I don't drink my tea like everyone else.