The Mis-adventures of Mr. Ben

In Ghana, beyond Ashaiman, between Sakey and Tema Community 25, live hundreds of families, many squatting on someone else’s land. Everyone works hard to have food and shelter and struggle for anything more. Having recently moved to this squatter settlement from their home villages, these families must rapidly learn many new ways to adjust to the urbanizing conditions.

If you go past the Tema-Accra Motorway roundabout, along the Alfao road to Togo, past the Kpone police barrier, inland past the gype, on the way to the large poultry farm before high tension, you’ll find a school whose mission is to help these migrant families make this adjustment. The school’s educational challenge appears overwhelming. So permit me to share with you a solution that is indeed possible, as I learned during my year living with Mr. Kabutey, Emma, Dornuki, Felix, Isaac, Abladey, Precious, Rosalinda, and the many others in the migrant settlement surrounding Manye Academy.

I arrived at Manye Academy with my lofty goals, some fundraised money, and abundant hope. For my Lombard fellowship I proposed I help train teachers, reach out to parents, and initiate expanded educational programs for AIDS prevention, women’s rights, and after-school activities. I also proposed I start a computer lab and library at the school to help the families learn about their new world. Finally, I proposed I collect data on the community to help inform future education and community development work. People often gave me the impression that all I proposed would be impossible. Let me begin by telling you that nothing was impossible and at this point I believe nothing is. By all means the school should never have progressed so far, but somehow it did. That is the story you are about to hear.

Permit me to start with the beginnings of the school. Years before I could even locate Ghana on a map, an aging educated man named Weber Daniel Kabutey Nartey in a business deal bought several acres of land outside the country’s new port, Tema. Mr. Kabutey, as most families now know him, formerly worked as a printer. However, at this point in his life he decided to try his hand at farming. With some success in the field he slowly earned extra money to put into the construction of a small cement house. As farming turned less profitable due to local trouble, a changing climate, and unfavorable global economic conditions, he saw the need to try other activities. After observing the many new children in the area, most of whom never had the opportunity for formal education, Mr. Kabutey started a small non-governmental organization with an educational mission. A man to always rise to the challenge before him, he saw success ahead and named his new institution Manye Academy, after the word for “victory” in Adangbe, his tribal tongue. In his small unfinished home and under the sparse nearby trees on his old farmland he began sowing the seeds of education in the community. And so began this school.

For several years the school struggled to stay in existence. Mr. Kabutey taught when he could, some teachers came and went, and one teacher stayed on through it all. In these early years, depending on the day and season, between twenty and forty students attended Manye Academy. Nothing came easily, but it seemed everything except problems went away easily. Mr. Kabutey helped the school survive through shrewd employment practices, though perhaps not the best educational practices. Low funds meant low expectations. Manye looked and felt like a typical rural school. However, during this period of hardship Mr. Kabutey solicited help from a man named Eric Arthur who runs a program called Help a School Project. Mr. Arthur, linked with Global Volunteer Network, a New Zealand-based foundation, brings foreign volunteers to teach in Ghana. And so began a new era for me at the Manye Foundation N.G.O., enabling my arrival at the school.

I paid my $297 application fee to the Global Volunteer Network and my $540 program fee to Help a School Project. In return, Eric Arthur picked me up from Kotoka International Airport in Accra and dropped me off at Manye Academy. I saw Mr. Arthur twice more from January to March, 2005, but we never so much as conversed. Mr. Arthur gave $200 to Mr. Kabutey for my room and food. I never learned the use of the remaining $637—I suppose international volunteer coordination has steep administrative costs. Regardless of my relationship with Mr. Arthur or the Global Volunteer Network (or lack of relationship), I quickly immersed myself in the life this small struggling school in this small struggling settlement.

I firmly believe that when volunteers enter a community like the one surrounding Manye Academy, we have more to learn than we have to teach, especially during the first visit. That was all I knew for certain. As a visitor to Ghana, a guest in the migrant community, an unfamiliar helper at the school, an Obruni—a white man, from America nonetheless—I had much to learn. My friends—the students in my classroom who came to school early and stayed late so they could spend more time with me—taught me about the world in which we live, how to live, why to live, and what it means to live. Without all the glitter and all the rhetoric I could see the world more clearly, I could think more clearly, and I could understand life more clearly. Through friendship, I experienced hunger, cruelty, innocence, ignorance, insecurity, and poverty, and I gained human context to this newly exposed world.

To be honest, after leaving Manye Academy in March 2005, I felt unclear about how to deal with my experience. I needed months to unpack everything I experienced. I could tell I gained something important, but I could not tell exactly what. I had trouble reconciling my life in Ghana with my life back home. I felt deeply confused and conflicted about how to live. The expectations and excesses of my American life weighed heavily on my conscience. Remembering and recognizing life’s deeper struggles guided me.

I wish this did not sound like a spiritual, religious, or otherwise philosophical experience. Rather, the experience was a down-to-earth lesson in reality. While in Ghana, my friends taught me practical awareness of the world: we always struggle with life in the ceaselessly changing world. Sitting in a college classroom I read, heard, and discussed struggles of our changing world, but walking in the community surrounding Manye Academy I directly participated in these struggles and changes. It’s not that I haven’t been a part of struggles in the United States; it’s that complex institutions in the United States disguise and diminish the natural struggles of life, though they do not eliminate them. Similarly, it’s not that I haven’t experienced ceaseless change in the United States; it’s that technology and progress shield us from the true underlying changes in the world, nature’s changes that we believe we can control. In Ghana, friendship exposed the real world and life in it. I saw the undisguised truth—if we strip down our overdeveloped society we find our true selves isolated and vulnerable. I learned who I am and who I can be.

Although I could tell stories upon stories about all I learned from my two-month introductory experience in Ghana, instead I will simply add that this period motivated me to return to Ghana, this time expecting to reciprocate with education. I had numerous expectations about the education I would provide and how we would actually deliver it. I detailed all my expectations in my grant proposal. I had written my guide for my year in Ghana.

Since the time I first left Ghana to the time I returned, Manye Academy grew and changed considerably. The number of students Manye Academy served exploded to over 120. Many new teachers had worked at the school, though most had also moved on. I served as the first foreign volunteer teacher and eight foreign volunteer teachers followed me. During my original stint at the school we built our first three classrooms and since then the school added tin roofing to start five new classrooms. Though the school got off to a slow start, as the foreign volunteers arrived the school changed rapidly. I can only speculate on any causality between volunteer presence and progress, though I can say with certitude that Mr. Kabutey can do a lot with $200 for room and food. This was just the beginning.

I returned to the Manye Foundation in the fall of 2006 with the support of a Lombard Fellowship. Upon my return, I heard often, “Mr. Ben, you got fat!” I don’t think the students or staff were commenting on my weight or waist, so much as my wallet. They focus on fat as a sign of health and wealth—more food and less physical labor. I definitely had gained some pounds, but not the British variety. Unfortunately for my self-image, Ghanaian’s don’t verbally distinguish fat versus husky or big-boned. Being called fat served as early reminder that values, perceptions, and opportunities are different in Ghana.

It did not take long for me to experience other thorny cultural differences in words and actions. The way I value education differs dramatically from the way many Ghanaians value education. I will share with you some of these differences below. I caution you not to judge too harshly, as the values underlying my qualms cannot be separated from the broader culture. In other words, to try and change only certain values would change everything, and probably not for the better.

In Ghana, poorer communities view schooling as a luxury, not a basic right. Teachers often decided not to come to school as they waited for their pay or felt they could make more money elsewhere. Students often decided not to come to school as they saw no benefit in attending, especially if the teacher was absent, or parents forced them to stay at home to help the family. I knew this would be a long, frustrating year—but I enjoy challenges and this would prove the biggest of my life thus far.

Manye Academy, like nearly all schools in the region, perpetually struggles to provide a quality education. Education in these communities occurs inefficiently and ineffectively. Students who miss class rarely catch up. Teachers who too commonly decide not to teach some days send signals to parents and students that education lacks importance or the school lacks quality. In effect, parents devalue education or pull their children from the school indefinitely until they find a more suitable alternative, which may result in no school at all and simply labor for the child. When teachers do teach, most simply have students copy recited information, often never explaining it or at times explaining it incorrectly. Most students casually copy classwork and homework off of each other, often never learning or attempting to understand the material for themselves. The culture, school structure, and teaching pedagogies often reinforce the basic skill of copying instead of meaningful learning. Although some rote pedagogies may indeed work effectively to help students to learn some material, these methods have limits and work better when used in an environment that encourages learning and supports students to go deeper and ask more questions. Unfortunately, the traditional community does not offer any of these qualities and would more likely discourage liberal education and critical thinking, leaving education dry, static, context-less, and far removed from the reality of life in this community.

To compound these troubles, there is no educational accountability. To begin with, administrators rarely hold teachers accountable. Given limited resources, administrators and teachers have little incentive to improve or ability to provide a quality education.  Similarly, parents rarely hold schools accountable, and any recourse is usually at the detriment of the child. For example, parents may remove their child from school to express their dissatisfaction with the institution, although this only hurts the child. On the other hand, a teacher may punish students for behavior that stems directly from the family situation. A diligent child may have no time to complete homework because of family work. In the evening, lack of light may prevent a student from completing schoolwork and protective parents often do not allow children to leave the compound to find a lit area. These conditions send signals to the child that education is not important. To deepen this tragedy, when the child arrives at school without having completed the homework, the teacher will scold, cane, or sack that child. In the end, the child’s education suffers because no one holds the correct person accountable.

School fees act as yet another obstacle to a child’s education, though not just in the most obvious way. Beyond the basic premise that a child will not attend school if his family does not have money to pay school fees, there are other consequences associated with school fees. For example, a family often sends a child to school when in fact they have enough extra money to begin paying school fees, even though it may not last. A student then starts going to school, but when the money becomes insufficient to continue paying fees the parent may withdraw their child and eventually try sending them to another school. This movement from one school to the next may continue indefinitely. Unfortunately, this phenomenon has several significant consequences. First, students fall farther and farther behind missing critical material between moves. To compound this problem, students never develop important social relationships with teachers, staff, and students, making them more susceptible to fighting and ostracism.

Another unintended consequence of school fees may be the use of physical punishment of the child for not being able to pay. One case that comes to mind is a student who I asked specifically to remind his parents about his school fees. When the student came the next day, I asked him if he asked his parents about his fees. He replied that they beat him for asking. This case may be extreme and rare (or maybe not), but it brings up the reality that this does in fact happen. I can only speculate the rational behind the parent’s action. It seems highly likely the parent did not beat the child because of school fees, but more likely due to the parent’s alcoholism and broader cultural taboos that children are seen not heard, making a child’s inquiry into school fees unacceptable by some. More commonly, however, students may be caned at school for not paying their school fees. The caning may come from teachers who want to make sure they get paid or from the headmaster or another staff member in charge of collecting fees.

I asked about why schools cane students for not paying their school fees, when in my eyes it’s no fault of the child. One teacher explained that often the parent gives the child money and instead of paying the fees, the child keeps the money. I admit this certainly seems plausible, but caning the child would not seem to make a child more likely to pay. Having observed children in the community for the whole year, I would find it more likely that child who did receive money for fees would simply not go to school the day they got the money and spend it on food or other quickly concealable activities. That a teacher would cane the child at a time completely removed from when the student may have indeed “stolen” the money may help extract a confession, but I do not see how the caning would help the teacher recoup the money and I imagine would unfairly punish those who honestly don’t ever have the money to pay. Like parents, teachers are always considered right, thus if a teacher suspects a child, the child has no right to speak up. If the student did try to protest the teacher would likely cane more.

In one sad example I witnessed, a teacher came up to a student and asked him to pay his fees. When the student said he did not have money the teacher began caning him. The student yelled, “Stop, I don’t have any money!” The teacher only continued more until the student fell to the floor. He continued to plea, “I don’t have any money!” At that point, the teacher gave one last hit and walked away. No other teachers questioned the one doing the caning, acting like it was completely normal. I was close with this student and his family and after some investigating I concluded the student in fact did not have any money (and if the student did have money he would have rightfully spent it on food, as this particular young man was chronically hungry and noticeably malnourished). Beyond the physical pain that these situations raise, the students often refuse to come to school for several days or weeks for fear of the teacher and further humiliation. Indeed, this student did not return to school for another week. I went to Ghana hoping to teach these students, and even teachers would get in the way of delivering an education.

Many other factors continue to degrade the potential for a student to receive a quality education. No access to a solid meal each day often prevents students from attending school. Or for students without the means of transporting their food, they may decide to stay home and eat there. With so many conditions that limit access to education, the fact that there are students who come out able to read and write is almost surprising, but is in fact is a testament to the determination and talent of many young men and women. However, not every child can achieve in these circumstance; indeed, very few do.

I attempt to write about these dilemmas without much emotion for if I let my heart into these stories I would find my keyboard drenched. I find my mind filled with emotion and judgment as I write these words; however, I remind myself that this is reality every day for these families. My students continually rewarded me for my work with their smiles, laughter, and games. Life is life—filled with joys and sorrows. Each time I found myself presented with one of these dilemmas, morality tore me apart—do I step in the way and try to stop these things from happening on the spot? If I do, then I lose all trust with the community—and trust proves vital to learning how to improve.

When I think about how parents and teachers can treat children this way, I am reminded how irritable I get when I’m hungry, thirsty, tired, and hot. At the start, from my perspective, everyday appears like a lose-lose situation. However, when I worked to understand the values of the community, I found myself questioning if I would not do the same if I lived their life. There are no excuses, but there are explanations. With my goal to improve education, I needed the trust of students, teachers, and families. Although my heart cried for these people patience, listening, and commitment served me best—not emotional tirades and tears.

My year at Manye Academy, however, was not marked solely by these frustrations. We saw numerous successes too. The first step we took to improve the school was to finish the additional classrooms we started by putting in a cement floor and plywood walls, so students felt they were a cohesive class and in a place worthy of learning. Next we built a community library and stocked it with nearly one thousand books. Simultaneously, we built a computer center for the school with internet access. Constructing these facilities involved its own set of frustrations, dealing with laborers who did not understand out goals and resources; though overcoming these frustrations was simple compared to the broader obstacles to delivering a quality education.

 

Having appropriate facilities is a good start, but by no means does it ensure quality learning occurs inside these facilities. Knowing the physical infrastructure was in place, we hired teachers who actually care about students and incentivized hard work with bonuses and patient counseling. Previously, many of our teachers were there solely for the paycheck and spent little time even pretending to serve the children. Now, with willing teachers on our staff, we provided them with numerous learning and teaching materials and worked closely with each class to integrate appropriate materials into lessons. Boosting teacher morale and commitment proved no easy task, but over many months, we made great strides in teaching teachers to teach and building a staff dedicated to our mission.

 

With a solid staff and building we forged ahead and targeting the weakest link in the educational chain—families. We strengthened parent involvement in the children’s education through many one-on-one meetings with parents at their homes resulting in a fairly significant boost in attendance—and hopefully long-term performance. These late nights walking many kilometers in the dark yielded fantastic information that helps me understand the day to day experience of the families we serve. Without this knowledge, what right do I have to teach these children what I think would improve their lives? Families are the key to realizing the benefits of education—this holds true in my community back home, just as much as it holds true in Ghana. Although important, working with families proves especially tricky. However, when we use the knowledge, skills, and resources held by families, we’re able to produce positive change. We have to work with families, not against them.

 

Beyond the family and outside of the formal school schedule, we helped dozens of students learn to read—most notably numerous older students who were about to drop out of school because they couldn’t understand anything they were doing. Foreign volunteers dedicated countless hours to reading with boys and girls for whom the rest of the educational system had passed by. Although impossible to devote this much attention to every child, distributing this most valuable resource to the students struggling most yielded incredible returns—you and old students alike were reading better than some of our former teachers! This was proof that commitment and compassion, when used well, can achieve beautiful things—like a young lady who suddenly finds herself in a new world made possible through literacy.

 

To supplement our regular school programs and engage students who felt academically weak, we organized sports, cultural, and arts programs for the school and community to make our school fun and relevant. We were even able to take numerous students on an excursion to various cultural and historical sites in their country. Some of our students saw mountains or touched the ocean for the first time. Our young men and women began discovering just how big their world is, and reflecting on where they may one day fit in.

 

Understanding that learning requires a fit body and mind with the energy to grow, and that a good school is only as good as its weakest members, we also looked out for the health of our families and staff. We formalized a relationship with the Narh Bita Nursing Hospital to provide free health care to the students and their families in our community. We also strengthened our school food program so students would have access to the nutrients and energy they needed to play, learn, and grow. To be fair, I am not sure how long the food program and relationship with the hospital will last—but it gives hope to what’s possible.

 

All of these accomplishments came at a great cost. It took tremendous time, energy, and resources to make this all happen. I found that the resources are all there if only you are committed and look hard. My fear was that Mr. Kabutey would not be able to maintain this level of achievement, notably he would not have the financial resources to perpetuate what we had achieved. To accommodate, we expanded a side-business to help subsidize recurring costs and we discussed how best to operate given the budgetary constraints. Over the past year, there have been ups and downs, but the swings have been more tempered than before making clear that we are moving in the right direction.

 

The accomplishment I am most proud of personally is working closely with several individual students who showed very minimal interest in education and often got in trouble in the village. Now they’re going to school regularly and doing homework and classwork that’s often some of the best in the class. My relationships with students made teaching and learning more fun and meaningful. The best education comes through strong relationships because we’re more apt to learn from people we trust. I could write an entire book just about the power mentoring—but I for now I prefer to reflect on the bigger picture of the school’s progress.

 

For each of these achievements, we experienced setbacks and unexpected consequences. When teachers saw money being spent on fixing up classrooms, they felt they should be paid more. When parents saw me devoting extra time to their child, they stopped paying school fees expecting “the obruni” to pay for their children’s education. When the computer lab was completed, we had to devote more time and resources to security. When we set out to make a single improvement, we had to be prepared to pay a higher cost to accommodate these unexpected consequences and side effects. Yes there were obstacles every step of the way, but we would learn from them and made progress through boundless energy and commitment. I learned the positive change comes through commitment and adaptability.

 

I left Ghana exhausted, frustrated, and excited. I saw how much was possible and at what cost. My energy was infinite because my time was finite. Since I returned, I’ve found myself restless. A desk job cannot meet my spirit’s demand for real challenge. I crave the frustrations of life that remain obscured by an office and desk. Over the past year there have been two additional Dartmouth students who have volunteered at Manye, allowing me to stay connected. Today, some of Manye’s former volunteers have joined forces to establish a U.S. non-profit, World Partners in Education, to continue this partnership with Manye and hopefully soon expand upon our commitment to education elsewhere in Ghana and the world.

 

Once just boys and girls congregating under the trees, today Manye Academy serves as a true home of learning. It did not come easily or quickly, but it did come. We achieved much, and have much still to achieve. With the birth of World Partners in Education, my work is just beginning. As Mr. Kabutey always reminded me, although occasionally we take a step backwards, through all our work we’re still moving forward.