Lessons from three weeks without running water: A firsthand tale of AIDS education in Ghana

When people asked what I'd be doing after graduation, I didn't imagine I'd be holding up a wooden phallus in a rural West African village doing a condom demonstration. But when I received an e-mail about the Sankofa Center for African Dance and Culture, a program that does HIV/AIDS education in Ghana, I secured my spot as one of four volunteers to do just that.

Three years ago I went on a trip sponsored by my beloved alma mater, Agnes Scott College, to another West African nation, Benin. I stayed in big coastal cities in both countries, so there were a few things I wasn't surprised to see when I arrived in Ghana: cars whipping down roads without marked lanes, women carrying bowls on their heads and babies on their backs, shoes for sale laid out on the ground by the street, hand-tailored outfits made from bright patterned fabrics, women mashing yams in giant wooden bowls.

But any tourist could see these sights.

In Ghana I lived like a middle class citizen in a blue 70-year-old two-bedroom mud house. The volunteers slept in one room, equipped with four bunk beds and a fan. The Californian director of the Center, Ronnie, the Ghanaian director, James, the volunteer coordinator Patrick, and Aaron, a 19-year old guy who liked to help out, shared the other room. We had a small porch, a kitchen with a table, a freezer (no refrigerator), a stove-and no running water.

Monday through Wednesday of every week we went to a school outside Accra to teach middle and high school-aged kids about HIV: what it is, how it's spread, and how to prevent it. We ended each lesson with an oral quiz and a game based on a traditional dance called the Gota. On Thursdays we went to rural villages to teach the same lessons, but we started with a series of dances to draw a crowd. Once people gathered around, we performed dance dramas illustrating how someone might contract HIV. We then did free testing and counseling.

In only three weeks, I learned more about Ghana, AIDS and myself than I ever expected. Below is a summary of a few lessons:

1. It's not the bathroom that's dirty, it's me.
   The toilet was a bowl like we see in the States without a seat. It sat in a concrete room a few feet away from the house. To flush, we dumped a bucket of water into the bowl. When I spilled some water on the floor to the side, I let it sit, thinking the bathroom was practically outside anyway. When Ronnie asked why someone didn't clean it up, I realized that I would never leave spilt water on my own bathroom floor. Even though the floor and walls weren't covered in the shiny tile I'm used to, I still needed to keep it clean.
2. AIDS is real.
   We all know that there's an AIDS epidemic in Africa, but this fact became concrete for me during my first village outreach. I was responsible for reading the HIV tests, and two out of the 50 people we tested had "indeterminate" results. Ronnie was pretty certain they were positive. In the States, 1,000 people can be tested and no one come out positive-what a difference.
3. I'm in love with P-Square.
   Our tro-tro (van) driver had a favorite tape, Super Hip-Hop Hits, that he played over and over. I never tired of these songs. My favorite: "No One Like U" by P-Square. Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_t8tBrZuqo
4. Domestic violence is real.
   During my stay I drafted a lesson on the intersections between domestic violence and HIV transmission to present at school outreaches. Within the first week, James, the Ghanaian director, asked if I could counsel a friend who had an abusive partner. He knew several women who could use some help. Untrained in counseling, I gave him the contact information for a local nonprofit. Later I looked up the statistics, and according to one national survey, one in three Ghanaian women are victims of abuse.
5. Sarcasm doesn't always translate.
   Especially when it's about marriage. I was buying a coconut when a man approached me and asked if I was married. I was advised to always say yes to this question, but I figured I could handle the conversation if it went down the marriage proposal track. When I answered no, he responded, "Oh, how great that you aren't married." To skirt the proposal, I quickly said, "Yeah, it is great that I'm not married!" My clever comment backfired-without replying, he walked up to Ronnie and asked if he could have me. (Thankfully, Ronnie said no.)
6. Americans are uncomfortable with death and illness.
   We met one man who didn't understand the result of the HIV test he took at a hospital, so Ronnie re-tested him and allowed us to watch. The test was positive. Instead of crying or being angry when Ronnie broke the news, the man listened intently to his advice for next steps, then smiled and shook his hand. Afterwards Ronnie explained that few people cry when they find out-death and illness are so common that most Ghanaians accept them as parts of life. Even after seeing this response, the 15 minutes I waited on the results of my own test were possibly the most uncomfortable of my stay.
7. It's OK to say No.
   To unwanted sex, to marriage proposals, and to buying people sandals at the market. In the domestic violence section of our lessons, we concluded with the message that you can refuse to be mistreated. I also learned that even though I'm a well-off obruni ("white person"), I'm not obligated to buy people things they want. In making casual conversation with a young Ghanaian woman, I mentioned I was going to a market the next day. She quickly asked that I buy her sandals while I was there. I was surprised that she was so blunt, but instead of feeling uncomfortable, I simply said no. Without being offended, she continued the conversation.
8. Sex education in the South (and the rest of the U.S.) has a long way to go.
   About mid-way through my stay, I realized that the information I was teaching in rural Christian schools in Ghana was more thorough than what I was taught in a public high school outside of Atlanta. While the headmasters in Ghana preferred that we emphasize abstinence, most agreed that even the student who doesn't listen to that advice doesn't deserve AIDS. I unfortunately was taught that abstinence is the only way, and I've had to educate myself about the risks of sex.

While the work was challenging, the lessons I learned are still showing themselves. And the lack of running water wasn't so bad; taking a bucket shower in the sunshine or under the stars is actually a really nice (and earth-friendly!) experience. So, go for it.