My Rights My Future Event

On October 27^th, 2014, Cheerful Hearts Foundation (CHF) celebrated the completion their “My Rights, My Future” project. This five month project based in Nyanyano was aimed at promoting the importance of child education as well as informing the community about the dangers of child labour and trafficking.

The “My Rights, My Future” project trained 20 community volunteers living in the fishing village of Nyanyano. These volunteers pledged to commit at least 9 hours a week going through their community talking about the benefits of education and how it can affect their children’s futures. They share their experiences as well as their training to help create a positive view and appreciation for childhood education. They also let families know what happens when child are working instead of attending school. Many families do not see the danger that the children face when working at the shore or in Yeji and the community volunteers were always available to answer questions that parents had as well as let them know why it is harming their child’s future success.

The gathering was a huge success with over 500 people in attendance. Along with over 300 local school children all supporting their schools with pride the guest list also included many important local community leaders. The event began with a African drum and dance crew. After the dancing there were several speeches from Mr. Justice Nii Kpakpo Abrahams and Mr. George Arthur as well as the Chief Fisherman, a former Assembly Man, and a Social Welfare representative. Each speaker discussed the power of education and the impact that it can make in the community and a child’s life. It was nice to see such a great turn out from the community leaders. The community volunteers, all wearing their white project hats, were lauded and praised, creating a positive emotion associated with volunteerism. Half of the volunteers were school children themselves and took pride in the event. 

After speeches, there was a student play about the importance of education. In the play the protagonist, did not receive her school fee and was not able to attend school. She ended up pregnant (with a very unhappy mother) and her brother ended up stealing (only to be arrested by the police). Obviously very dire consequences for a lack of education. Several girls also gave very heartfelt speeches, one of which was addressed to the parents who were not sending their children to school, but most were centered on how thankful they were to be in school and how important an education is to their future.

  

It was a wonderful event and it was great to see the support that the community gives to the Cheerful Heart’s project and to their children’s education. The success of the outreach program is currently being evaluated (I am working to compile data from our school and community interviews which we have done over 300 so far), but the impact on the individuals in attendance was visible and powerful.

I have been lacking on the blog posts, partly being busy and partly due to a full week without internet (or power for that matter). More post are coming.  

The Immigration Officer

 The Immigration Officer

After successful week including trafficking interviews, teaching, and community outreach, we found out that there would be another long weekend. Even with the short notice, (it seems that national holidays are only announced the day before they occur) we still quickly made some plans for another weekend excursion. This time, we decided to head west past Cape Coast to see Busua and Nzulezo.

After a wonderful night on the beach in Cape Coast, we woke up early to head further west to Busua. When arriving at the tro-tro station, I was approached by an Immigration Officer asking to see my passport. This was not a problem and I allowed him to inspect both my passport and visa. The problems began when he asked to see the passports of the other two volunteers. Of the four of us, only two of us had our actual passports and the other two only had a photocopy. Even though this should be perfectly fine according to the Ghanaian laws, the officer was “doubtful” of the two other volunteers. After explaining our situation, (we are volunteers, we all have the same visa, a photocopy is fine, ect) he invited me to sit in the front seat of the tro-tro next to him since we were both traveling to Takoradi.

What followed was the longest tro-tro ride of my life. During the hour or more that it took for the tro-tro-tro to fill up (a tro-tro does not leave the station until all the seats are filled, which can make for a long wait if you are at a vacant station) my new friend Joseph, the immigration officer, talked with me about everything imaginable. I learned about his family, (he was traveling to visit his mother and daughter) his job, his life, everything, it seemed that we were “friends”. I believed that we had the passport situation under control, but in between the small talk, he would keep coming back to this “feeling of doubt” about the validity of my friends’ documentation. I would try to assure him that in the future we would all carry our passports and it was so good that he helped inform me about the “rules” in Ghana, still Joseph wanted to detain my friends until we could produce the actual passports.

Somehow, I had become the “leader” of the group (according to Joseph). I felt bad leaving my friends in the dark as I was the only one sitting up front, somehow attempting to determine the fate of the entire group all by myself. He decided that he needed to detain the two other volunteers until Tuesday when the offices officially opened and we could bring their actual passports for him to see. Of course, when I told him that four days in the detention center was not acceptable, he would tell me know to worry and that the more I worried the more he was doubtful of the validity of their passports. Several times during his moments of doubt, he asked me to “appease” him in some way to make him feel better. Each time I would call him out and ask him if he was requesting a bribe, which he would deny (never a bribe, only a “gift”).

 Finally, I decided to call Eric, the director of our program, to let him talk to Joseph in order to make him feel better. This is where I made my first mistake of the day. He happened to be examining my passport (for the 20^th time) when I handed him the phone. Sadly, when Eric told him that it was illegal to detain my friends and that a photocopy was an acceptable means of identification in Ghana, Joseph started his power trip. He decided to take my passport and became determined to detain my friends. He became obstinate and would not tell Eric his full name, which Eric requested in attempts to call his supervisors. Much like a middle school student, he handed me back the telephone and refused to talk any more.

To say the least, the next hour and a half ride was painful. I was able to get him talking again, but struggled to change his mind. Eric told me that I needed to get my passport back and that we should not allow him to arrest/detain us. When I demanded my passport (which was completely valid), he said that I could choose to regain my passport in exchange for handcuffing my friends. At one point, I asked the driver to stop so that I could talk with a policeman at one of the numerous traffic stops. The policeman seemed to agree that the situation was strange, but he was not “involved with immigration issues” so he could not help us. After an hour of talking with Joseph, I even resorted to “buying” back my passport for 20 cedi which he no longer wanted to accept.

Once the tro-tro finally arrived in Takoradi, it became even stranger. He still had my passport and told me that he would hold on to it until Tuesday when my friends would be released. We left the tro-tro just outside of town and he proceeded to escort us to the detention center. We entered a taxi where Joseph was going to sit on my lap, because there were only four seats. Joseph then proceeded to tell us he needed money for the cab fare. We actually laughed out loud at this idea as there was no way we were going to pay the taxi to take us to jail. Joseph was quite disappointed and told us that we would have to walk .

At this point, we destined to go to the detention center, hoping that there would be someone actually sane to listen to our story (the idea of grabbing my passport and running was also not out of the question). Conor, one of the other volunteers, decided to call the US embassy in Accra to request some assistance. Of course, as stubborn as Joseph was, he did not believe that he was speaking to the US embassy on the telephone and would not give his name and badge number (he showed me his name at badge number at the beginning of the tro-tro ride, but at that point I had no idea of the situation that was about to ensue) (Joseph Awantu or something I believe). During our walk, Joseph received several calls from his sergeant, from the embassy, and from the immigration offices. Eric had contacted the immigration department and Joseph was becoming more flustered as he talked to numerous individuals on the phone. At this point, we were stopped waiting in the middle of a random dirt road on the way to the detention center and Joseph did not know what to do. We decided to give Joseph options 1) we go and talk with his sergeant in person or 2) he return my passport. As a last ditch effort, he again asked to be appeased, obviously we were not having it and told him that he was going to give me my passport back and that we were going to leave.

You could tell that Joseph was struggling about what to do. I told him I wanted my passport and I would give him my phone number if he needed to reach me. Finally Joseph accepted the exchange. I took my passport and we quickly turned around, walking back towards the tro-tro station. Shockingly, Joseph walked back with me (Chiara and Conor were smart and decided to walk double time, but sadly Claudia and I were stuck at a slower pace). During the walk, Joseph decided to try again to make small talk (asking about how he could marry an American girl, at this point my patients was lacking). He also asked if I was still interested in giving him the 20 cedi that I had offered earlier in the trip. With my passport back in my possession, I told him that there was no way I would ever give him 20 cedi. He told Claudia who was walking with me that she needed to “talk to her husband” because I had become “hard” and unreasonable and had been so much “softer” back in the tro-tro.

We quickly found a tro-tro that was taking us anywhere so that we could leave Joseph behind and decided to continue or Saturday. Exhausted, I let Conor and Chiara do the talking to find out where we were going next as my patience and small talk was finished for the afternoon. I can’t think of a stranger tro-tro ride, but luckily everything turned out fine, only wasting our time and my patience. My first “attempted” arrest and encounter with an incompetent/corrupt officer (I think he was more of an idiot than evil) was now complete, simply adding to my international travel experiences. I have to say that the day only improved from there and we made it to Busua enjoying a relaxing day on the beach.