stephanie looking up

The job really needs to no perks at all. But this is definitely one. Miki and I have taken a small vacation to the western coastline of Ghana. We knew the coast was supposed to be beautiful, but we thought we had chosen 'budget' level accommodation... only to find ourselves staying in an extremely charming private beachfront chalet, and eating indescribably delectable food including fresh lobster (cooked on the beach by the fisherman himself), straight-out-of-the-oven croissants, freshly squeezed orange juice, fajitas with extraordinary homemade tortillas, and sangria and tapas at the only Spanish tapas bar in Ghana (complete with a parrot hanging out under our table). Every minute was accompanied by waves crashing on an endless palm-fringed white sand beach, and that ever yearned for salty sea breeze. Understatedly a pleasant surprise. Fishing boats in Busua, the small fishing village we visited where we ate fresh lobster. The beach at Beyin. The beach at Bey

As a Fox, it's in my blood to deeply appreciate efficiency. For all of the apparent disorganization in the Ghanaian transport system, I, in fact, love it. There is three essential forms of tranport here: buses, which go between major cities only, trotros (minibuses) and shared taxis, which travel on set routes for set prices, and drop taxis, which are private taxis like we use in Canada. There are some organized trotro and bus stations and taxi ranks and here there is not usually a set schedule for departures. The vehicle simply departs when it is full. If you are not at a station or 'stop', you can also just stand at the side of the road and flag down passing cars. At the end of the day it feels much like an organized public hitch hiking system. Here is why I like it so much: 1) On the odd occasion one ends up waiting several hours to catch a ride, but for the most part I find that the system forces you to travel without expectations for arrival and departure times, l

To portray the charm of the old lady (Abrua) Afia here in a post is seeming impossible. Afia's house is a clay house, one room with a clay floor and tin roof. It stands slightly apart from the rest of the houses, on top of a small hill next to a path going into the forest. We eat lunch beside her house everyday, on her bench under a small tree, always bringing some extra to share with her. Afia seems to spend some time and keep her things at another house in the village, I think her family house, but she keeps her house on the hill to maintain her independence (you go girl). She feeds her self mainly from farming, but makes her daily bread by collecting bundles of firewood that she sells for 1 cedi each (50 cents CAN). We often see her collecting firewood in the forest (villagers are allowed to collect dead wood), always singing as she goes. It is remarkable watching this 70- something lady chop up branches with her machete, stack them all up and then carry the huge load out of

This weekend Miki, Andy and I traveled up to Mole National Park in the northern part of Ghana. We had a complete blast.   We went on a walking safari early in the morning and we took a driving safari in the afternoon and got to ride on top of a very serious jeep. Both safaris were absolutely terrific, so beautiful. We saw incredible wildlife, especially many extremely impressive birds.  We saw many monkeys (yahoo!!), warthogs and many species of antelope.  I think 50% of what I said that day was ‘WOWWWW, LOOK AT THAT!”.  We got to see one elephant - he was absolutely magnificent.  We saw him go swimming, go for a little jog, and take a very satisfying looking mudbath. It was awesome. Getting to and from the park was also a hoot, and we thought we got very lucky in the way of catching rides for each part of the journey. Comically we thought the trotro ride from the nearest town back to Boabeng, our home village, would be the easiest, because it was market day so there should be lots

The Fruit Lady We like our fruit lady very much.  The fruit lady is our last stop each week at market. We usually buy several apples, plus some of whatever is looking best that week.  She always greets us with a very big smile and very warm welcome. She says we are her besssssst friend, and usually plunks an extra orange or banana into our bag (and is sure to look at us with a great big grin after the show of appreciation).  On weeks when we have a lot to carry we leave it at her booth while we do our rounds at the market. Once she was wearing shimmering purple eye shadow (women rarely wear make-up where we are) and I told that it looked nice. She was so happy she told me to come back behind her stand and dug through her purse so she could show me the little case of eye-shadows that she had. Then she wanted to put some of the purple on me right then and there. After tactfully dodging the situation (and I mean dodge nearly literally) Andy and I had a good laugh imagining what a scene

On a very usual feeling Wednesday afternoon, we were watching Winter. They were by the village and we were standing on the road to get the best view. It was all very ordinary, until we saw the most monstrous looking truck turn the corner at the intersection in Boabeng. It rolled very slowly toward us. We thought the military had come to Boabeng; we faltered for an explanation. Out of habit we all lifted our binoculars to our eyes in search of any clue and immediately all of our mouths gaped in unified thought - ‘Guys! There is a white guy driving that truck.’ We were stumped. Minutes later, Mr. White Guy turned out to be Mike from Fort St. John, BC – sporting a remarkable 12 or so inch beard and reminding me all too much of ‘Mike… from Canmore’ ala Royal Canadian Air Farce. Mike from Fort St. John has been traveling for six months on a self directed overland tour that started in Austria. After traveling Europe he crossed from Spain into Morocco and was now making his way to South Afri

Watching these comical crabs all over the beach was terrifically addicting. 

Today was one of my favourite days since I have been in Ghana. Robert took Miki and I to his farm to harvest yam. “Today we are in the classroom,” he told us. Yes, we learned a lot. We went in the late afternoon. We walked all the way through the forest and out the other side, arriving at a great expanse of wide-open farmland, dotted by great towering trees- the leaves were glowing in the sunlight and the shadows were starting to stretch. With great pride and a terrific enthusiasm, Robert’s tour began. There on the right, Robert pointed out, was his wife’s farm of groundnuts, and here on the left was the queen mother’s farm, this one there was Mr. Jacobs farm, and this one here was his farm – could we see how the land goes as far as that big tree over there?  We stopped to see his wife’s groundnut farm. She had made the mounds already, in nice rows, and did we know how to make the mounds? Robert showed us, so that we could try planting some groundnuts ourselves at the guesthouse,

Men in Ghana. There are those who ask me to marry them; there are those who declare their love for me before even saying good morning; there are those who ask me to dance; then there those with majestic black coats and long white tails who mostly ignore me.  Everyday at  7am  I sit down to (or stand, or fantically dash around) an eight-hour episode of my favourite soap opera, revolving around the life of 10 super fine men from this latter category.  I observe as to how strong they are, how well they look after their children, and how many women they are sleeping with at once. I have a team of employees assembled for the purpose of meticulously recording this information. At least once a day I demand that my employees ‘find me another man!’.  This week there is a new category of men in these woods (or should I say man?); no long black coat, no white tail, does enjoy dancing, does love me. Without disrespecting those tailed sort, this super fine man is indeed my #1. Yes, he is final

There are many people in Ghana who I have not had a chance to tell you about. I have decided to do a short series of posts on a few of my favourite people. Today, Postman Ben. Postman Ben works at the post office, naturally, and gladly checks our post box for us every  Tuesday  when we arrive in town. Ben is extraordinarily friendly, has an extraordinary large smile, is ever determined to help us practice our twi and learn new phrases, and always welcomes us with a terrific sense of humour. On top of this, how could one ever dislike the person responsible for delivering to them joyful envelopes from home. Last week, Ben told me we weren’t friends anymore because I forgot to call Tony to tell him to pick up his mail, so Tony’s mail was still waiting in the postbox. With the straightest of straight faces, Ben said my deep heartfelt apologies were simply not enough. He even said there was mail waiting in the postbox with my name on it – mail that he saw with his very own eyes – and h

The month of September has brought rain, and quenched the thirsty land at Boabeng-Fiema. Monkeys stop for rain… but only until they get hungry again. So we watch, we watch, we watch; it rains, it stops, it pours again. We are prepared with rain ponchos of course; the rain is no problem for us.     And the good thing about rain ponchos is that if you wear your backpack it can also be kept dry. But then of course, you look like a turtle. To begin with, everything that a white person does is funny, and then it becomes especially funny if they are also looking like a turtle. This week Andy and I became a turtle duo, seen scuttling around the forest day after day.     On Saturday , we were watching monkeys by the edge of the village, and it was raining. There was loud music playing from the house near by - we couldn’t help but bop along, and when our dear friend the old lady Afia Afofi saw us form afar, she came over to join, and then of course we couldn’t help but bop with a little more v

On the afternoon of Friday September 13 th , after long hours of searching and no finding, Andy and I regretfully reported that Iron Man was missing in action. With a charisma to fill the forest - and our hearts - we sorrowfully miss this trouble-making, data-creating, and entertainment-providing small boy. This forest and your small family will not be the same without you (and your adrenaline addiction), Iron Man. We hope you rest in peace.   Iron Man  Iron Man and Villain: a duo greater than the sum of their parts. 

  I was stretching in the forest one morning and some kids saw me from far away and started imitating everything I did. One thing leads to another, and now we have a weekly morning yoga session (mostly goofy yoga).   Coolest bug I have ever seen.  50 points for anyone who can tell me what it is. I am looking at you Leah Bland. Spider of the week!!! Andy shucking maize while I watch monkeys sleep.  always monkeys on the roof. 

The past few week have been especially busy as I prepare to submit some of my preliminary findings to a conference that will be in Calgary in the spring, so not much time for writing a blog.  Instead I offer you a small list of small events that happened over the week. - A woman in Fiema thought my hair was a wig, so she pulled it. To her amazement, it was indeed attached to my head.  - The beautiful long grass in front of our humble bungalow got cut down. I am rather upset. In fact, heartbroken. No more birds to watch while we eat dinner on the porch. - We captured a terrific video of iron man and villain playing on Krakatoa’s tail. Can’t wait to share!  - There was a scorpion in Andy’s room. The third one. Poor Andy. - Some political figure in the region won his seat back and in celebration drove all over the area visiting all of the villages. He came to Boabeng and visited the forest, pulling up with a large parade of fancy SUVs with tinted windows and many police. The man who wins

He is stiff leg displaying in the village. everyone ooo and ahhh at his manliness!

 check out the little friend riding on the back of the black and yellow guy. cool!

This blog post is a shout out from one nature lover to all of my favourite nature lovers at the high park nature center!    I have been thinking of you everyday since I have been in Ghana, there is so much awesome nature to ooo and awww about! As a primatologist (that is what you call someone who studies monkeys and other primates) it is my job to observe nature and wonder about it. I spend all day every day watching monkeys high up in the trees in a forest that is just a big bigger than high park, and I wonder about why they behave the way that they do.    Lucky for me this means spending all of my days in a forest where I can see all kinds of other awesome nature too!    I have collected some photos of some of the very cool nature I have seen in the last few weeks to share with you. 1) First, the monkeys of course!  The monkeys that I watch are called black and white colobus monkeys. They eat only leaves and spend almost all of their time high up in the trees. Here are some pictu

I think there is a cricket that is living under my bed.  Mother nature’s practical joke for the week? Grrrrr.

Andy’s birthday was yesterday. The monkeys don’t stop for birthdays, so to work we went – unfortunately the monkeys did not get the memo to put on their party hats, except for Iron Man and Villan of course who had us giggling all afternoon, a gong show as always. In the evening we invited Charles, Robert, Joyce and Dianna (Joyce’s sister) over for a birthday dinner. Our friend’s idea of a birthday celebration clashed marvelously with how a Canadian might conduct themselves at a birthday dinner – the night was an absolute riot and a complete comedy. Andy and I were in hysterics the entire time, laughing so hard we could barely breathe –probably laughing more at them than with them, but that was ok because I think that they were equally laughing at us.  Charles arrived spot on time, and then immediately left again to round up the rest of the gang. Before dinner he threw a bucket of water at Andy (‘bathed her’) – a Ghanaian tradition of washing away the year past in preparation for t

Lazy Krakatoa. Colobus monkey in the village. Painting my toe nails and babysitting Kujo as we were getting ready for Joyce's engagment party.  Charles's beautiful 90-something grandmum, who we went to visit on the weekend. Charles's hair cutting shop in Fiema.