The reason I find blogging so hard is that lurking awareness that anyone can read the result. And once I’ve eliminated any commentary which might somehow be perceived adversely by a future employer and anything that would upset or scare my parents, I don’t really have all too much to say about life in Ghana.
Here’s the thing – a lot of the past few months have sucked. There have been bright spots – the beach always makes me fall a bit in love with Ghana, and now that I’m over sticker shock I’ve figured out how to manage the allowance to afford the occasional burger. I’ve enjoyed traveling around and seeing different places. The allowance has finally been increased. And I’ve become a pro at making my own bagels. I’ve met truly nice people – Ghanaians and expats – who’ve helped me get where I’m going, given me rides, and defended me from the odd drunken groper on a trotro.
6 months on though, I feel like I haven’t really achieved very much. Every now and then I get a spark of hope – yes, brand guidelines exist and are used (albeit often incorrectly applied) and the website style changes have finally taken effect (even if the other members of the team have yet to update their portions). I’ve seen other media plans for events drafted (although they aren’t shared with me, and I have no opportunity to offer ideas). The brochures have finally been printed (although with some weird changes to layout that would make me ashamed to claim them). I successfully applied and got them a free charity version of Salesforce when they asked for a CRM, but I’ve been told not to roll it out.
And day to day? I don’t really have much to do. My coworkers are clams, quickly shut and leaking very little information. Efforts to make friends came to nothing, apparently due to a wide perception that I was a spy (for who, I’m not really sure. That anyone has ever defended me, I highly doubt). I’ve been publicly cut down and put in a box several times, the result being I now sit quietly in meetings. I’ve asked management in London and Ghana what they hoped to achieve with this position. No one is sure but feels there must be some way for me to be useful. And if I a) don’t have anything to do and b) can’t influence anyone else, then there’s really no point in me being here.
The other volunteers I’ve come with have all left. Two might return in September, but although they’ve been on different projects they’ve had serious and similar problems, with acceptance, with finding meaningful work, and with downright cruelty.
It’s reassuring to know that others are having the same problems, including people who successfully completed other posts in other places before. It makes me less sure that I’m just not trying hard enough, being culturally sensitive and adaptable enough, am good enough. But those thoughts all still lurk.
I go into the office each day, but later and later. I eek out my media scan and schedule a few tweets. Once every few days I might have an email. In between, I take online courses. First I did several regarding research methods (but then my proposed research project never materialised). Now I’m on my second, third and fourth course on climate change. That shit is terrifying. It’s also vaguely work-related. Every few days I send out a few nudges and nags. Most of the time they’re ignored.
In the evenings I do rehab for my ankle and freelance work to distract myself from the fact I have nothing else to do and I’m not sure why I’m here.
I’m in constant skype communication with one of my best friends from home. Which is good, because I sure don’t have any friends here. The other expats are 40 and 50-year-old men, most of whom are either married or frequent visitors of local prostitutes. Every now and then some adopt me and hang out for a bit, but then disappear again.
I haven’t managed to have any kind of equally footed relationship with a local. In France, aside from the time spent with Mums and other nannies in the park, things were pretty rubbish as an au pair. But doing the Masters gave me the opportunity to make friends, to restore my faith in France and its people. I don’t know if anything will give me the same chance to make friends with Ghana at this point.