West African AIDS Foundation (WAAF)

This has been the week of WAAF, the first of many I'm sure.

Monday morning, Ben, Sophie and I woke up bright and early to go on an outreach VCT program - volunteer counseling and testing. We went with three employees of WAAF to Tema, a little outside of Accra, to what seemed to be a truck driving school. They announced that they were doing free HIV testing, and it all began.

We set up in a classroom, with two counselors in two of the corners, and a desk at the other end with the three of us seated with Mark to help record the test results. And we did so for the next five hours. There were about sixty people tested in all, which is actually a low number. WAAF brings 100 test kits to each outreach program, and once they're out, they're out. It's all they can afford to bring with the funding they're provided. That's one thing I want to try to resolve while I'm here. I can only imagine having to turn people away from being tested because we ran out of test kits, and that's unfair.

The process that day was people would come in and speak with one of the two counselors, where they would give a sexual/medical history and get any and all questions about HIV answered. Then they would hand their counseling forms to us, we would record their name. They would get tested, and told to come back in an hour for the result. Mark would then tell us whether the results were reactive (positive) or unreactive (negative), and we would record the result. If they were reactive, we had to fill out a separate form to refer the client to testing at IHCC, which WAAF works out of, and give all the information to the counselor, who told them the result when they returned.

There were three people that day who tested positive. We knew who each was, and saw how they reacted to the news. Speechless, tearing up, walking out fast. And all their colleagues were peeking through the windows, and waiting outside. It was hard to tell how the community was there. There is such a stigma against HIV here in Ghana that it seems it would be the person's first instinct to keep the results private. But everyone was getting tested together, and it was obvious when people tested negative because they were dancing around and all excited. So how do you respond when you're told you're positive? Is it the sort of thing where everyone's waiting outside and wants to know, "what'd you get? what'd you get?" And if you tell them, does that change everything?

Wednesday was our first day of counseling training. We're training intensively for the next two weeks or so. I was going back and forth about it for a while, because being in Ghana has made me very aware of my status as a young white American girl, and I don't know how clients are going to feel about being counselled by someone like me. I'm going to give it a shot, though. We were given lots of reading on HIV/AIDS information and common questions that we're going to have to learn and know all the answers to. We simulated counseling sessions, and it's basically just having a conversation and getting to know your client, making him/her as comfortable as possible and preparing them for the testing process and results.

Today we met once more for another counseling training session. Except, one of the volunteers who has been at WAAF for the past two months is going back to school, so we decided to celebrate and went out to a nearby restaurant - the Pokey House I believe. We ended up talking a lot about pregnant women with HIV. Breastfeeding is one of the modes of transmission for HIV/AIDS, so it is important to know the alternative options. Except, there aren't very many. Statistically, an HIV positive mother has a 15% chance of transmitting the virus to her child through breastfeeding. The ideal solution is to use formula, but because the water here in Ghana is often contaminated, bottled water is the idea mixing solution to make formula. However, most people cannot afford the luxury of bottled water. So, what is suggested is a controlled form of breastfeeding, which basically means ensuring that there are not cuts on your breasts before breastfeeding. Alternating between breastfeeding and formula is the worst - it brings the likelihood of transmitting HIV to your child up to 40%. So unless you have the means to buy formula and bottled water, your baby has a high risk of contracting HIV. And frankly, that's not good enough for me.

The stigma against HIV/AIDS in Ghana prevents a lot of government support from making a difference. There is no WIC program, no health department that can offer free services to HIV positive mothers, as a means of preventing transmitting the disease to her child. There is no way for her to get free formula, free bottled water, or subsidies from the government to lower her expenses. And right now WAAF doesn't have the resources to provide for pregnant HIV positive women. And if I'm being trained as a counselor, I simply cannot tell a pregnant woman that she's HIV positive and there is nothing we can do to help her or her baby.

Now I'm trying to figure out what I can do to help. Sophie said she really wants to put on a concert to support WAAF, and I think this cause would be ideal. A couple kids in the program have made friends with local musicians, so hopefully we can get them to perform. However, fundraising can't be where it ends. Ideally the concert will bring in lots of revenue, but I don't want it to stop there. The people at WAAF said they were trying to talk to people at the U.N., but efforts to receive continuing aid so far have been unsuccessful. It is my goal to try to establish an agreement with the U.N. or an organization like it to provide continuing aid to the cause of pregnant HIV positive women; to set up a program similar to the health departments in the United States, where women can go for treatment and the formula necessary to care for their babies, and to prevent them from contracting the disease.

A girl died at WAAF today. I saw her once when I first took a tour of the WAAF facilities. She was lying in bed, suffering from tuberculosis and full-blown AIDS. She was 21 years old. I don't know her name.

Homestay Weekend

This past weekend, I stayed with the Fynn family in Roman Ridge. It was interesting, in that it was un-interesting. I didn't realize I even had any real expectations for the weekend until the experience proved to be far different from what I had expected.



An employee of AFS, the organization that facilitated the homestays for the weekend, dropped me off at the Fynn house Friday evening. They live in Roman Ridge, and just happen to be down the street from West African AIDS Foundation, where I'm volunteering. When I arrived, Mr. Fynn was sitting in the living room having a TV dinner. His 17-year-old son, Christopher, looked at me like he had no clue what I was doing there (later I found out he didn't know they were hosting a student that weekend), picked up my suitcase and took it to the room I would be staying in. I met Edem, Christopher's 25-year-old cousin, and Paulina, also a cousin, around Christopher's age, who primarily works in their kitchen and maintains the household. After awkward introductions, Mr. Fynn yelled at Paulina to bring me my dinner, which she promptly set up at the dining room table. I ate by myself for a while, then Edem joined me and we played 21 questions to get to know one another. Edem was raised in Togo, so he speaks French, and is doing IT work for Mr. Fynn at Ghana International Airlines.

After dinner, Edem asked me if I wanted to go for a drive. Sure, why not. Outside I met his uncle Xavier, who happens to also be age 25 from Togo. It seemed to me like we were taking Xavier home to Achimoto, another section of Accra. However, we ended up going to Xavier's girlfriend's house for her 24th birthday party. I was really tired, but I'm always up for a party and was excited to meet some cool people. Unfortunately, that didn't really happen because they were all either from Togo or Gabon, so they all spoke French instead of English, and it was obvious they didn't want to make the effort to speak English to me. I can say a few phrases in French, like, "Je mappelle Noelle" and "je ne sais pas" and "je ne comprend pas," but that's pretty much it. Not being able to speak the language is incredibly inhibiting and frustrating! Luckily, Christopher had tagged along and doesn't speak French either, so we had each other to talk to. I really wish I could have gotten to know the people at the party - they all seemed friendly enough - but the language barrier made me a bit of a wallflower, which I hated. I was really tired too, and had anticipated going to bed very early that night, but we ended up staying until 2 am, and the only reason we left then was because I asked to.

I thought I was going to sleep until noon the next day I was so tired. However, the Fynn house is right next to a main highway, so I was up and at 'em around 7:45 am. Sweet Paulina had made me a HUGE breakfast: omelete, chicken sausage, salad and vegetables, papaya, pineapple, bread rolls, tea. I ate by myself again. Edem and Christopher joined me a little later and we read through the local papers. The boys were chatting in pidgin English, which is English, but all the words are essentially cut in half, so it doesn't sound like English at all. Mr. Fynn had a guest over, but did not make any sort of introduction. Introductions aren't common here. I had to introduce myself to everyone at the French party last night.

After breakfast, the boredom began again. The power was out, so there was not much to do indoors, and the boys showed no interest in going out and doing something. So I read a little and wrote in my journal a little, and slept a little. Every now and then Christopher would come in and talk to me for a while. He's a really nice kid. I'm not a huge fan of Edem because he kept hitting on me, which I had expected but it still made me uncomfortable. I mean, I didn't have any problem staying in a house full of boys, but the situation did force me to keep my guard up more than I would have liked to. I really wish Christopher's mom had been there. Mr. Fynn has a lot of wives, and Christopher's mom is in the States right now. Matina, Christopher's 20-year-old sister was supposed to have been there, but she went to visit friends at Legon over the weekend. I think my weekend would have been better if she had been there, because from what Christopher was telling me it sounds like she would have been a lot of fun to hang out with, and it might have made my weekend less boring.

Saturday felt like it was never going to end. Around 3:00 in the afternoon, Christopher asked me if I wanted to go hang out with Edem and some of his friends. Sure, why not. Just get me out of this house! Take me somewhere! We went back to Achimoto and met some more of Edem's friends from Togo, who don't speak English. I asked the boys if we could make it home by 5:00 so I could help Paulina make dinner - she was making banku and I wanted to learn how. I'm not really sure if she understood me when I asked her because she doens't speak very good English, but I wanted to give it a try. Plus, I didn't really want to spend the rest of the day in silence. It honestly felt like I was being punished for not being able to speak French! And of course we didn't get home by 5:00. Try 6:00, and Paulina had already finished making dinner by then. The power wasn't back on yet, so I went to my room and tried to journal in the dark until dinner time, which really could have been any time because dinner was made and I ate by myself. After dinner, I joined Christopher in watching Miss World 2006. Miss Ghana was one of the finalists! Mr. Fynn came home late from work - he works every day of the week managing Ghana International Air - and we chatted for a while about things I should do while in Ghana, which was great. Mr. Fynn was a really good host. The only thing that bothered me was how he treated Paulina. He yelled at her all day, and she would just smile and nod, smile and nod. Women are considered subordinate to men in most cases here in Ghana, and in many ways Paulina was treated more like a dog than a person. It was not my place to say anything, but I did try to be an example by washing dishes with her. The boys weren't too happy about that, but it was all I could do to help.



I went to bed before 9:00 because I had to wake up at 5:00 to get ready for church. At least, I was told I had to get ready to leave by 5:30. We didn't actually go any where until 7:30, operating on Ghanaian time as always. I rode in the front of a truck with Mr. Fynn and the driver, and Christopher and Paulina took a taxi and followed us. They attend Holy Family Catholic Church, and I was raised Catholic, so I was comfortable with the order of the mass. We arrived really late too, and it was nice not to have to sit through the whole thing. Catholic masses tend to be rather boring wherever you go. The music was nice though. They sang a lot of the same hymns as they do in the States, but the Ghanaian rhythm made everything sound so much better.



After church, Mr. Fynn had his driver take us to James Town to buy some fish to make kenkey and shitor and pepe, which is a traditional Ga dish. Accra is actually part of the Ga region, so most people here speak Ga instead of Twi. Twi is spoken more by the Akan, but people who speak other languages like Ewe or Ga tend to understand Twi, while Ga is more difficult to communicate with. That's why it is better to learn Twi than Ga, although I would recommend to learn as much as you can, because most of the Ghanaian locals don't speak very good English.

So Mr. Fynn proceeded to buy enough fish to last until next year. I don't eat a lot of fish, but I was willing to give it a try. I asked Paulina again if I could help prepare the meal with her, and she said yes. I helped her clean up the kitchen, but when it came to preparing the fish, she decided she wanted to do it herself. I think it was more that she didn't know how to teach me than her not wanting my help, but I decided to let her do her own thing. Christopher said he was going over to their neighbor's house for a bit, and invited me to join him. Sure, why not, right? Wrong. The boys proceeded to play video games for the next three hours and spoke pidgin to one another while I sat by and watched.

I finally said I was going to go check on Paulina, and got up and out of there. While I was back at the Fynn house, the AFS employee showed up and asked if I was ready to leave. And I was, so I did. And that was my weekend. Not so bad, but NOT SO GOOD either. When I went back to the compound, I found out that most of the students had bad or boring experiences as well, which is disappointing. There is a Habitat build in two weeks where we have another opportunity to do a homestay for one night. I haven't decided if I'm going to give it another shot yet.