not just the good.

For the past few months I've been telling everyone wonderful stories about my time here. I've been giving the image that everything is wonderful here in Ghana, but in reality, I've been leaving a lot out. I think it's time to share some of the challenges that Ghana faces and some of the heavier thoughts that I've been having.

I'm only sharing two stories with you today, and hopefully two more next weekend. I hope that you think about them.

Please, take me with you?
I get many, many proposals in a day. Usually they come from the people that I have breakfast with, people that I see almost every day that I've become friends with, and are said in a joking manner, but realistically they are also secretly hoping that I will say yes.

Why do I get these marriage proposals? The people see the colour of my skin and believe that I can give them a better life. That they won't have to work any more. That they won't suffer. That I can give them fancy cars and a big house and take them to Canada with me so they won't have to suffer. Clearly they don't think of the -40C winters, but it's more than that. They would happily leave their country and families for a "better" life.

It doesn't stop at marriage proposals. I've had women try to give me their babies. They are willing to give away their children because they hope that they will get a better education and be healthier. For this one, I really don't blame them. In Ghana, there's a one in eleven chance you won't reach your fifth birthday.

I try to explain to them that not everything is great in Canada, that we have our troubles too, but how can I tell someone, right to her face that her child won't get better health care in Canada? That out of 1000 births in Canada, only six will die before their fifth birthday instead of 112 as it is in Ghana.

But what else are they to believe? NGOs come to Ghana with handouts, boreholes and schools, and then leave again just as quickly as they came. They take pictures at all the cute children to show back home, sometimes leaving behind a football or some toffees, but not taking the time to listen to everyone's stories.

When I travel through Tamale, at every intersection in the road there are signs pointing the way to an NGO office. There's one charity in particular whose slogan sends shivers up my spine: "Giving hope to a world in need." How would you feel as a Ghanaian if you saw that sign every day? How would deal if the message that every NGO sends to you is, "You can't do it on your own. You need us."

Tourism
On my recent trip to Laribanga, I saw what tourism could do to a developing country at its worst. The town has two famous attractions: the mosque and a "magical" stone. Because of the close proximity to Mole National Park, it gets quite a few white people coming through to see these two "attractions." While I praise the community's action to use these pieces of history to generate some income for the community, I cannot praise the attitude that comes with it.

Upon arriving in the town you are required to register at the "tourism office," a small room that doesn't even have a desk or a chair. When I arrived there with my two companions, it was empty, so we continued walking into town hoping to see the magical stone. On our way someone stopped us and said, "are you going to see the mosque?" We said no, and continued on our way. A VERY short time later a man on bicycle stopped us and told us that the stone was too far away to walk to, so we should pay him to take us on his bike (riding double in turns) and then pay him to tell us the history of the stone. We had heard about the people from Laribanga being aggressive in asking for money, but we didn't think it was going to be that bad. But, we had a short time frame and we decided that if the stone was too far to walk, then we should at least still try to see the mosque.

Instead of travelling straight there we meandered through the mud huts, talking to people as went. Small children were swarming around us, grabbing at our bags and tugging at our hands while looking up at us and asking, "thousand? thousand?" We were shocked... two year olds were begging for money! The older ones were pushing the little ones closer while also asking for "toffee", or the small hard candies that white people so often give. I knew better than to give candies to anyone other than the children that I knew well -- I had seen a woman be swarmed a year an a half ago in the Dominican Republic, shocked at how fast the children ripped the bag out of her hands and at the fight that erupted between the kids when they realized she didn't have enough for everyone.

But we wound our way towards the mosque anyway, and stopped very close to it. Two of us started talking to some people (they were actually pretty funny and interesting) and the other turned the corner, realized we were at the mosque, snapped a picture, then came back to join us.

Suddenly we were surrounded. About 10 men came racing towards us making a racquet and creating a commotion, giving us even more unwanted attention. One grabbed me and started pulling me away from the mosque but I threw his arm down. There was one in particular that was yelling at us, telling us that we were liars. That we didn't follow the proper procedure. That we were trying to cheat them from their money and that we were breaking the laws of Ghana. That we were stealing from the community. That we need to each pay them 20 000 to see the mosque... and we weren't even allowed inside due to the rules of Islam (women under the age of 50 are not allowed inside). Even when we tried to interject -- that no one was at the tourism office, that we didn't know the procedure (even though we had been told by some of the other Junior Fellows that had visited earlier), that we didn't lie to them (we really were going to see the stone first), they didn't listen. The leader didn't even want to hear our side, he just wanted to yell.

Is that any way to treat a visitor? I can imagine people in the past getting flustered and afraid and then just giving them the money to make them stop yelling. I can understand people not wanting to be the centre of attention as a large part of the community gather around them and wanting to get out... but we had been here for more than two months already. We weren't going to take it.

We tried to leave but they wouldn't let us. We told them that we didn't even want to see the mosque anymore. Someone demanded one our cameras so they could prove that we did, in fact, break the rules (which we never did deny), and when we said that they couldn't just demand someone's personal property, the accusations of "liar!" just intensified. Finally we said, "Is this any way to treat a guest? We're going to go back and tell all our other white friends not to visit Laribanga because the people are cruel and only want to take advantage of white people!" It was the only thing that shut them up. We were then escorted around the mosque -- for free -- and were told to take all the pictures we wanted.

It was one of the toughest moments I had since I arrived, and brought all kinds of questions to my mind. Is this what tourism can do to a town? That they look at white people and just see dollar signs? Yet, at the same time, the image that they have of white people can't be completely wrong... people who gave the kids "toffees" like I saw in the Dominican Republic, people who gave the 20 000 to see the mosque, and then donated three times that amount for general upkeep (another group of friends demanded to see a recent repair they made on the mosque, but the guides came up empty), these are realities of white people going to developing countries as tourists. There are many people that go to a cultural centre and pay full price for a painting that is WAY overpriced instead of bartering. Then, the people who sell these things start to expect it from you.

There are two brothers that live in Laribanga, that are honest and good guides that we met later that agreed with us. They said they couldn't believe how some of their neighbours treat us, and that we did nothing to deserve that kind of treatment. In their words the only thing that white people do wrong is "give money that is unwarrented."

I can't imagine being the farmer in Laribanga, working all day under the scorching sun trying to make enough food so his family can eat during the dry season, and seeing the white people throw money around. What does that say about the work that you do? How can you find pride in your work when you keep seeing how much better everyone else is living?

How have places like Cuba, Jamaica, Mexico, Thailand, and South Africa been changed by tourists? How can I travel so that I don't do so much harm to the people?

I can't give you a really accurate picture with just a few words, but I hope that I can open your eyes to a few of the things that I don't want or like to show about the country that I've grown to love so much. Yet, I'm allowing this blog to be a small window from Canada to my life here in Ghana, and what kind of window only shows the good? And what kind of person would that make me?