Work at last...

I have finally started working here in Ghana. Although my job description isn’t wholly defined I do have a ‘work station’ complete with a computer and a dial-up internet connection. I am promised broadband at some point... although at the pace things happen here I don’t expect that any time soon or much of an improvement on the speed I have already. Then later at some unspecified point in time, when the air-conditioning is fixed, I will be moving to another room to share with the other ‘new boy’ in the department who is responsible for the Maths curriculum.
It is strange to reflect on just what I will be doing in this country. I am employed by the Ghanaian Education Service, henceforth to be known as GES. So in effect I’m a civil servant. Then within the GES, I’m working for the Curriculum Review and Development Dept. (CRDD). My role, as the name implies is to review the current curriculum and develop it in way that seems appropriate to the changing circumstances.
Now, you people know me, so correct me if I’m wrong, but does that not seem a just little too important a job to trust to someone like me? Don’t get me wrong I do know what a curriculum is... I’ve even held one in my hand... but I’m not sure that being able to being able to correctly spell the word, eight times out of ten, really qualifies me to make judgements on it and, heavens forbid, make changes to the thing. I mean would you trust me... ... exactly !!!
Apart from work I’ve not yet been up to much. Having only really been here a few weeks I’m still finding my way around. To my eternal shame I have been to the Irish Pub twice now... however both times were under duress and I’ve promised myself never to return. Last weekend a group of us went to the Botanical Gardens in a small town, north of Accra, called Aburi. For this we took a ‘tro tro’, which is the Ghanaian word for ‘death trap’, and passes as the main form of mass transport here, being as it is, a minibus crammed with passengers paying very little to go a long way. The only stipulation these things seem to have to adhere to, to be on the road, is that they MUST NOT in any shape or form actually be road worthy.
Anyway we made it to Aburi safely enough, and into the Gardens. Now I know I’m spoilt by having been to Qew a good few times, and for having Greenwich Park right on my doorstep, but I do have to admit to being just a tad disappointed by the Gardens. Maybe, it was that I was expecting something a little larger than an average school, ideally somewhere I might have got lost in. And, call me old fashioned, but it would it have been nice to have seen the odd flower!
Fortunately, we happened to arrive whilst there was a festival of Chiefs taking place. All afternoon we watched as local village Chiefs dressed in all their finery paraded in front of singing and dancing crowds. It seemed to start with the more minor Chiefs parading in more drab, understated costumes. Then, as their importance grew, more senior Chiefs appeared with far more colourful attire and wearing all the more gaudy gold jewellery. Finally, what must have been the Head Chief was carried into the Square preceded by an army of devotees singing, chanting and dancing to the accompaniment of gun fire and sabre-rattling. He was everything you expected to see. Fantastic colourful African dress and gold crown and rings the size of golf balls on every finger. It really was a fabulous sight, and an occasion that more than made the journey worthwhile.