National Service Experience

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MY SERVICE TO GOD AND COUNTRY!

(Episode 1)

Over the years, graduates have acquired varied experiences and have procured reasons as to why national service is such a big deal or maybe not. Sometimes one is exposed to hear-says that sets the mind into thinking that why should any person be allowed to go through such ‘hell’ here on earth?

Among the leading reasons therefore why the majority despise the scheme is the lack of basic necessities at most service posts across the country especially in the rural areas. But whatever the case may be I share with the few who still think that service to the nation is one of the best experiences that could ever happen in the life of a graduate, notwithstanding my ordeal in these subsequent pages.

Occasionally, the issue of national service raises concerns to some of us from the private tertiary institutions. Questions have been asked about the rationale behind the involvement of graduates from private universities into the national service scheme.

Why should they be given such equal ‘punishment’ with those in the government when they do not receive as much subsidies as them in school? At least they deserve the mandate to decide whether to join the NASPA train or not. That way, they’ll have the free will to seek permanent jobs without any obligation to produce an NSS certificate.

This notwithstanding, I still affirm that it is the best way of preparing any graduate for the job market and as such should be encouraged even in the private level. I say this because I strongly believe that no matter what the case may be, with determination about the future one can still make it at post; be it a teacher or an office worker.

The story begins………………At age eighteen I gained admission into a private university to study journalism. Till now, I have no doubt that Jayee University College was the best alternative for me after I had lost admission to the Ghana Institute of Journalism (G.I.J).

The choice of offering journalism I would say didn’t seem much of an interesting idea to me at first. For someone whose childhood dream was to become a teacher in future, there were times I made silly remarks about the dangers of reportage and how courageous one had to be in covering events that at some point could be life threatening.

More often than not, we hear people give testimonies about their success and never omit words like “I knew I had it in me and I saw it coming” or “oh! He’s been singing since childhood and we knew he would be a singer” and I wondered how my own statement will turn out one day- perhaps a little diverse.

I trust the voices I listened on the radio, the books I read and the stuff I noshed my eyes with whiles waiting for my WASSCE results engrossed me in the act of writing and communication which led me to what I suppose bestowed on me the zeal to consider journalism as a career.

Meanwhile, for those of you still lost in thought about what your passion might be, let me quickly fill you in on the concept and guidelines in identifying one from a motivational book I recently chanced upon;

A passion is an intense affection that you develop for something you are introduced to; something not someone e.g. writing, music, acting or painting. However, your passion might change as you grow older. If you are wondering what your passion is;

Think of something you do that makes you forget everything else

Is there something you do that turns a bad day into a good one?

What is the first thing you do when you have a free time?

Perhaps there is something you do that makes you forget your problems for a while.

As long as it is legal, it just might be your passion!

With this little enlightenment, I am quite sure you might have discerned my passion for the media and will join me in wondering why the system posts people like us to some derelict village to teach and not to practice what we so much desire. I ask, yet, quite certain there is a raison d'être why it always has to be teaching.

(Episode 2)

The postings…………....Except by some divine intervention or connection of a sort, the teaching field is where majority are thrown and very few get the chance to be in the bureaus.

Therefore when announcements were made about the release of the service postings in October 2011, apparently almost every graduate who had registered dreaded to be offered a teaching field due to stories they might have been made to believe about conditions and challenges associated with the posts offered.

For those ill-fated ones, checking of the postings could somewhat be equated to testing of one’s HIV status. The involvement of courage, valor and acceptance of the outcome was not to be compromised. Logging in to the service website to know whether one had been infected with the teaching virus or not was a nightmare!

Even so, others also felt tranquil about the whole initiative because they had underground men to effect changes for them; possibly through the ‘whom you know’ system that favors some individuals and is applicable to almost every institution in this country.

This therefore offers the ‘I stand alone’ populace like me no alternative than to accept our fate and start packing our baggage and luggage no matter the station. It was then- after I had accessed the internet that I was exposed to my own test result.

Boldly and neatly typed in my appointment letter displayed on the screen, it read- ‘ANYINASUSO PRESBY PRIMARY SCHOOL, AHAFO-ANO NORTH DISTRICT, ASHANTI REGION.’ Just then, I knew I had been infected and was definitely doomed for hell……

Well, it wasn’t as if I was going to die. I was only going to take the first step in my life of leaving home for some village which will require almost 10-hours of butt torture in three different vehicles.

Come to think of it, how on earth was a stay-at-home girl like me going to start a lonesome life in a little township whose name I had never heard of? For someone who seldom travels outside Accra, I began to speculate if this was going to be any fun at all. Suddenly, all the stories I had heard started echoing into my ears with great ridicule as if to say 'I told you so.'

In fact you’ll be right to think that I begged off the honorary offer at first because just like most of my colleagues who were posted as far as Bolga, WA and other distinct villages, we needed time to mull over our fate. At first, we all decided to take a rain check or possibly find ways of turning things around- or so we thought.

Gradually, days went by like a whirl of wind but in the long run the GHC240 allowance per month was too tempting for some to walk away- thus giving in the towel and reporting to post. But for the law abiding citizen that I was, I felt the need for more time to perchance wait for a fairy-god-mother to maintain me in Accra with her magic wand- wishful thinking indeed!

Almost a fortnight into the subsequent month after no sign of any help from all the sources I had tried, I decided to travel and see things for myself. At least it couldn’t have been as awful as reported by friends who had already taken the lead. After all, there is always a first time they say.

The Journey………………At approximately 12p.m one fine Thursday in November, I was on board a bus from Circle to Kumasi. Even there, I just couldn’t stop making up imaginary stories and scenes in my head.

I kept torturing my brain with ridiculous prospects about how askew this land would be; at least considering its name. It was as if I was traveling to a far away land somewhere in Africa but somehow along the line, the rumination of Ashanti region motivated me to keep hope alive because where else is Ashanti region if not Kumasi- the Garden City, Oseikrom; I thought.

However, after several episodes of 'stare and sleep' in the bus, I opened my eyes through one of my day-dreaming naps only to realize I had been in this GHC10 Neoplan bus for almost five hours yet; there was no sign of getting to Kejetia.

Just then, frustration began to take the better part of me as I took a careful glance at my dusty and exhausted self (consequences of not taking a V.I.P.). In anguish, I vowed to myself to only go and see the place, come back and return no more- but that, readers- was just the beginning of my ordeal.

Episode 3

Stranded………..I arrived in Kumasi- Kejetia around 6pm. In fact, I couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of being in a new region for the first time alone. Here I was, turning and staring like some barbarian without even realizing I was far behind time.

Unaware to me, I had to make another two hour drive if I was to get to my station that night. It was after I had phoned my friends that I really understood the trouble that awaited me.

According to them, continuing the journey that night will mean getting to the district capital-Tepa around 8pm which will require taking another car to their village to spend the night before returning to my station the following day.

Apparently, that plan was to backfire because getting a third car to their village will be difficult if not impossible since most of the drivers refuse to travel at night due to lack of passengers. Therefore, I had only one choice- to find a place to spend the night in Kumasi.

Kumasi- Kejetia

At the mention of that, I panicked!

I felt deserted at the centre of one of the biggest market in the country like an abandoned chick waiting to be devoured by a crow. It wasn’t as if I was standing at some corner at Kaneshie in Accra, this was my first time in Oseikrom and I had no hint of any relations whatsoever.

After several thoughts however, an idea suddenly occurred to me and I was sure to get help. It only required a simple phone call and I am good to go. I quickly reached for my phone and dialed her number but the wonderful service in this country won’t send my call through. It took several minutes of redialing before I finally heard her voice.

With a wobbly tone that was almost choked with regrets, my mum realized her little girl was in danger and even though she couldn’t help but join my siblings in making a mockery of me, she knew she had to arrange a place for me to spend the night. That was actually the first time I was introduced to my aunt and her family after which I spent the night with them at Kwadaso estate.

Journey to the post………….Early the next morning I left my aunt’s place to continue the voyage. As already informed, I was prepared to make a two-hour journey to the land of experience. Fact is I wasn’t so expectant about the condition of my service station; especially after coming across some fascinating villages along the way.

Places like Hweebaa, Twabidi, Kakapee, Dwenewoho and Brofoyedru definitely thwarted my fantasy and made me laugh at my own imaginations about Anyinasuso. There were times I looked around for an abode somewhere in the bushes whenever the driver made a stop for someone to alight. Once I couldn’t find any, I wondered if this person lived in isolation.

Yet, I kept praying and hoping that my post will at least be less pastoral than the ones I had seen. Eventually, I reached my destination and without having to walk any further from where the bus stopped, I raised my head to see this skewed signpost that read exactly as written on my letter- ‘ANYINASUSO PRESBY PRIMARY SCHOOL, AHAFO-ANO NORTH.’

Indeed, this was the ‘Promised Land’ but I still felt the need to take a quick peep at my appointment letter just to be sure before going to meet ‘my people.’

In a personal quotation I will say, ‘he who expects less is less disappointed’ so I wasn’t stunned to see a deserted compound with only one school block (made of cement) with the other two mud-made ones almost collapsing. I then walked to the school where I later found out that the students were out for the usual Friday games- thus, the tranquility at the time.

Before any prior conversation though, I customarily offered greetings to the few staff I saw pounding fufu (very typical of villagers) and was immediately offered a seat by a woman who introduced herself as the headmistress. She asked of my mission and without hesitation I handed to her my appointment letter which to my bewilderment, she expressed the same sentiment I did even before I got there - why on earth should you be posted as far as this place? She asked dryly.

For some obvious reasons, I felt my nerves calm down and for once thought to myself- this was going to be much easier than I anticipated.

The subsequent few minutes were spent on some sort of ‘knowing me-knowing you’ chat which she later informed me about the presence of three other service personnel and how unfeasible it will be to consider any more hands since the school is a very small one.

With a deep sigh of relief, I estimated that this was an opportunity for an easy reposting; at least back to Accra. I only had to pick the next car to Tepa to make amendments with the coordinator.

Well, except that it couldn’t be compared to the city I had lived for more than 20 years, Tepa had a market which was very busy on Thursday (market day), police stations, post office, Lorry Park, a small roundabout and more especially good roads.

Most people confuse it as part of Brong Ahafo region but it is in fact part of Ashanti region even though it takes about an hour’s drive to get to Sunyani from there.

To be honest, I was fascinated by the environment and even though my preference of staying back home had not been quashed (considering the travelling distance involved), Tepa was everything short of my expectation.

Tepa SHS

At the secretariat, I had serious talks with the coordinator and requested for another place to undertake my service. After several deliberations, I finally settled for a library assistant in the community senior high school since his jurisdiction was only limited to the district and not beyond. Yes, you heard me right- from primary school teacher to librarian.

Of course, I had my own uncertainties about what I had bargained for but as if to prove otherwise, I decided that at least working in the library will offer me an advantage to learn and read as I’ve always wanted to. Indeed, my hopes were brought to fore when I later got to know that this community SHS was good enough to be equated to most of the schools in the city or possibly gain more grounds than some- like my Alma Mater.

Talk of the spacious library, the administration block, the school buses, adequate classrooms and the most supportive Parent Teacher Association (PTA) by whose help the school has been made such a wonderful place. As a matter of fact, I felt privileged and for a second, I thought- this is it!

I was now geared up to begin ‘the life of 20-year old service person.’

(Episode 4)

The experience……………..Actually, you’d be a millionaire if you’d agreed to a bet on my happiness at that moment. I was so pleased with this new place and I wasn’t to whine anymore. The atmosphere alone stroked me of an environment far away from home where I am to live on my own and experience the feeling of total liberation.

The ambiance in the school sometimes jogged my memory of the good old days in Senior High. The carols service, inter schools games, the debate competitions, entertainment and end-of year get together for the staff was worth the nostalgia.

Amidst the entire thrill however was one thing that denied me the chance of being whole. It took this wonderful feeling and in exchange offered me sleepless nights. I sometimes wondered how soon I was going to come out of it and have total bliss. It was nothing about the school or my duties as a librarian. It was accommodation!

According to Abraham Maslow, shelter- among other needs like food and clothing is considered one of the basic needs of every individual as it contributes to higher self esteem and so on. But in my first few weeks at post, I was denied the comfort of a safe haven.

Certainly, I wasn’t living in the streets even though I had declined the offer of living in the service quarters for a subsidized fee because I felt it was a bit too crowded. I needed my privacy and that started by lodging with two ‘guys’ in the same room.

As a matter of fact, that wasn’t plan A. It happened that my female friend whose place I was supposed to settle (at least till I found an accommodation), travelled the day before my arrival. Her friends are these two immigrants- just like me.

Seeing I had nowhere to go, they offered me a place with my belongings in their single room ‘ghetto’ in anticipation that my friend would arrive soon since they lived very close by. But in fact days turned into weeks and while waiting, this single room became our little camp where we did almost everything together.

Living with the two………..........O.K enough of the wild imaginations! Relax and let me give you the rundown myself. Perhaps most people would find no problem asking for help whenever the need calls for it and as we progressed I also felt there was nothing wrong with sharing a room with two gentlemen.

Since I was being choosy, I felt the only choice was to take the unexpected offer while I searched for an accommodation to have my so called privacy. It was never an easy task because I was late for post and almost all the rooms had been rented out.

Anyway, literally the three of us didn’t sleep in the same room. One of the guys had to go lodge at a friend’s place every night while I slept on my mattress spread across the floor and the other guy slept on the bed. Each morning we all assemble to take our bath and dress up for school.

At times when I was to take my shower earlier than them, they had to wait outside (even if it meant getting out of bed) for me to dress up and afterwards come back to either continue their sleep or prepare for school too. Interesting isn’t it?

Undeniably, this whole routine was all so new and weird to me at first because in my father’s house there are many rooms. Nonetheless, I wasn’t to complain because somehow I knew I had taken more than I could chew. One lesson I learnt though is NEVER to say NEVER in life.

At certain times in our lives we can by no means presume what is listed for us on the menu of life. The only choice we may have when the appetite presents itself is to eat whatever prepared as served.

I was already getting used to these two good Samaritans who became like the elder brothers I never had. There were times they went to the market to buy the groceries and bring it home for cooking. At other times, they did the cooking while I supervised. Yet, there was that part of me that yearned for total comfort and wanted to exit.

Besides, I hated the feeling of being watched, the panic that ran through me whenever anyone knocked on the door while I was dressing up and what's more- having to spend less time in the bathroom than usual because someone needed the bucket to bath. That was so not me- I wanted me back!

Three weeks into a thorough hunt, the day finally came when I had to leave my foster home to a single room I had rented for GHC15 per month (a place I would pay less if I had arrived earlier). It wasn't the best but I had no choice. Actually, getting that accommodation wasn't just a walk in the park; it came with lots of stories which may be told on a later day.

For some environs I stopped over during my search, it was as if they weren't considered part of Ghana. Other nice places that caught my interest also demanded an arm and leg for a single room or a chamber and hall; definitely far beyond my reach.

Given that there is a mining town close by, prices of such accommodation were hiked as landlords targeted the miners and not poor personnel like us- after all we’ll be staying for only ten months and their targets were set on thousands of Ghana cedis not hundreds.

(Episode 5)

Living the life………....Now that privacy has been restored, I began to give full concentration to my duties and see how best I can equip myself with the resources available. At the library, I was excited to come across some books I had been longing to read for ages.

It really felt great to have all these books at my perusal and was even contemplating on which one to read first. I would pick up several books from the shelves and read the prologue of each to find out ones that will interest me. At times, I read few pages of a book and move on to the other when I found it a bit boring.

The Library

It was getting quite interesting in there; at least for the first academic term. Even though students didn't troop in to read, I believed I couldn't have settled for anything less. My job at the library was stress-free and flexible. I only had to supervise students and take them through the dos and don’ts of the library whenever they came (especially during orientation).

With the help of the library prefects I arranged, recorded and stamped new books and always made sure the place was cozy enough for learning. This routine was therefore supposed to be the easiest thing to do but for some reason I began to grumble again.

The idea of doing the same thing over and over again didn't augur well with me. It wasn't as if I had access to any electrical gadgets, there were only books and nothing else. Boredom became my companion at that point and already I was wishing our ten-month stay was ending the following day.

I wanted to get busy and maybe teach like other colleague personnel. I doubted if I was going to be good at that but the determination to teach suddenly dawned on me and I started working towards it for a change.

In the latter days of the first term I consulted the Head of English department and told him about my intention to teach English. He asked the obvious about how I was going to manage the library with teaching but I assured him there was going to be a way out. He then consented to the idea and gave me the assurance of teaching when school reopened in the second term.

Multi-tasking………………Being one sanguine persona, I was fully prepared to give ears to my inner voice and at least try something new. The second term of re-opening saw me back at Tepa with my English books and materials in anticipation to teach English. The enthusiasm of being in the classroom was very different from my official duty.

Again, I reminded the H.O.D of his promise and with such keenness and passion in my approach, he was convinced I was prepared for the task even though I had initially turned down the headmaster’s offer of a chance to teach when I was first registered in the school.

Categorically, my reasons were not scornful. I felt I needed time to build some nerves since it was going to be my first time in the classroom. As a matter of fact, I also didn’t want to betray the library master who needed my services badly then. In all, I felt this was not the place to practice my childhood teaching skills where I used to teach my siblings on walls with charcoal as chalk. This is a Senior High School, I thought.

Nevertheless, permission was granted and observably I decided to start small by opting for the form one class but the H.O.D decided otherwise and offered me one of his form three classes. I asked myself, what was I going to teach them? Most of these third year students can even parent me, I thought wryly.

But eventually my confidence elevated and I took the challenge. Even before I was offered the class, I was invited to judge a debate rehearsal by some selected students (mostly form four and threes) who were to compete with other schools nearby.

I remember having all the attention whenever I was to pass my judgment. There, I listened, observed and noted from the mistakes and attitude of these students- thus, gaining firsthand experience about the kind of minds I will be handling and so I got prepared.

Episode 6

So here I was; library assistant plus English teacher. In fact I must confess I had been missing a lot. Within a little time, I developed so much interest in teaching and I followed my time-table like a drug prescription. I used the library to my advantage and did enough research before going to class.

In the classroom

My students loved me and they came calling whenever I delayed. They just couldn’t miss the new young teacher whom they claimed spoke like a white lady. There were some who admired my communication skills and wanted to be like me. There is only one advice, I told them- LISTEN, WATCH and READ!

Exam Time!

Admittedly, this form of multi-tasking wasn’t easy even though I took pleasure in getting busy. Since the library master- Nana, was always on the trot with other chieftaincy and personal issues, there were times I had to choose between the library and the classroom or to find someone to handle the place while I was away to edify.

I would plead with other colleague personnel to fill in till I completed my 80-minute lecture. When it was over, I return immediately to make sure he wasn’t on one of his abrupt visit.

Trust me, I was better at teaching and I loved it! Having the opportunity to host a motivational talk show by the Foundation for Future Leaders International (F.F.L.I) was also a great step towards my future aspirations.

Hosting F.F.L.I

In the classroom, my third year students were very corporative. There was a free flow of communication and with the teacher-student click they contributed effectively. The respect and recognition alone was worth the task and I couldn’t deny the little incentives that came with it.

However, i had to use the cane or give them some form of punishment anytime they misbehaved. Yes! I was their madam and i had to instill discipline despite the fact that some of them were older than me. Its called school life, isn't it?

Back home, my containers were never short of water though I hadn’t the muscle to fetch it. Pumping water from the borehole was a very tedious task that required great energy. I almost couldn’t get out of bed the following morning after I had tried to do it on my own. The town folks are however used to it like I am used to the tap but with time, i learned to do it on my own whenever my boys delayed.

Well, now you can be very sure i was really enjoying my service. Combining teaching and the library job always kept me busy and i was glad. With this, i always held my head high at the end of the month whenever i had to make my way to the bank for my service "alawa."

It was no short queue. One had to wake up early to go for his or her card at the secretariat to avoid the usual long queue of personnel from other neighboring towns and villages.

Not even a day would pass by without taking our allowance but at times when we were busy with school duties, my colleagues and I would wait till the next day before going for our cards and head smilingly to the bank for the GHC200 which was later increased to GHC240. It was still scanty but we managed.

It was with this money that i go for my little shopping. Thursdays at Tepa was no joke. Being a market day, lots of traders came to the township to sell their wares. The streets gets choked and one has to struggle to get through the crowd who have come from the cities like Sunyani, Kumasi and other township to trade.

Variety of things are sold at a very affordable price. Food stuffs for instance come at a very reduced price as compared to the city. Clothing, shoes and most of the girly things were my choice and i got a few to stuff my bag.

Episode 7

Sights and sounds……….. Ok, I know by now you've made your own conclusions about national service from my view. Unlike some of my colleagues who were denied the luxury of using electricity and other amenities in remote villages away from my town, I had the opportunity to go on trips and tour places beyond my service post. It was indeed an eye opener.

At TESS, it is the duty of every staff member to at least honor the invitation of colleagues whenever the need arises. This presented the chance of travelling to different places and regions. On one of these was a trip to Bibiani- a distant town from Tepa to attend a funeral. It exposed me to places like Goaso, Achirensua, Mabang and other towns. The experience isn't one I’d like to encounter again but I decide to share because I personally learnt something interesting.

It happened that our bus broke down at a village away from Bibiani and we had to board another to convey us to our destination. After several minutes of no sign of any vehicle, I remember some of the village folks suggesting that we walk since the distance left to cover was just a stone-throw and we didn’t need a bus.

But believe me; we all couldn’t help but laugh when we finally had to spend almost thirty minutes in another bus to climb up a mountain even before getting to the town. I wonder how we were going to walk that mile if we had listened to these village folks.

Lesson: Never trust a villager who tells you to walk to your destination when what you should have done is to pick a car. For all you know, he or she is used to walking to that same spot because maybe that’s the route to his farm.

Another thrilling journey was a trip to the wedding of a colleague teacher at Sampa- a town in the Brong Ahafo region not very far from the Cote D'Ivoire border. I still recall the happy moments we shared on this trip.

En route, places like Sunyani, Ginigini, Tuobordom, and Drobo Senior High School (DROSS) set the tone for an exciting journey. The chance of crossing the border to another country was also another encounter worth evoking for a home girl like me.

At the border

A step outside Ghana

One of the things I would love to do is to travel to new places and meet new people. So personally I felt elated being on a different soil with people I have come to know and consider as family. The euphoria really took effect when we realized the change in reception, language and currency after we were allowed a quick tour on the land of Bondoukou, Cote D'Ivoire.

The land of Bondoukou

In this little francophone village were very few people. Initially, we all thought we would arrive in a city like Accra but considering where we came from, Ivory Coast was several miles away. Yet, most of us felt delighted with the little change in topographical area.

This time, our bus was in full gear so we were allowed entry into Bondoukou by officials at the border. Initially, some of us thought we would land straight in the city where we would see the real Ivory Coast but felt disappointed to have met a very little town with very few people in it.

Imagine someone was coming to Ghana and had to pass through Tamale or Togo. I am sure the distance from that place to Accra will be very far. Of course, that was exactly how i pictured the whole thing and finally had to console myself because after all, we weren't prepared to visit and we had no passports on us. We were just passersby.

Well, we had a few feel of the place and those of us who had a little french, had to battle themselves out with the folks. There was nothing in this village except Aky3k3 and fish. Had it not been for the little shopping we had at the duty-free shop on our return, we’ll have nothing but this native food to prove "we were there some".

Their own Aky3ky3 is sold with fish instead of the pear we are used to here in Ghana and since we had no Cefa they accepted the cedi. At least, they could also use it on market days at

Sampa.

Aky3k3 na Fish

Sampa itself is a nice place. The native language is ‘bono’ and the popular means of transport I imagined is the motorcycle. It was amazing to see men, women and children; both young and old ride effortlessly on these motor bikes- something I wouldn’t bet my life on. I just couldn’t help but admire their confidence.

As I observed, I eavesdropped into conversations just to notice how different their language is from the common Akan/Twi we are used to. But I realized with rapt attention one can understand few words like ‘b33k) hin?’ which literally means- where are you going to?

Half Assin……! In fact, at the mention of this town, everyone concerned will chuckle and vow never to honor any invitation that has any connection with the one I’m about to share, unlike Sampa. This was actually a trip that got more members on board as the distance involved was very far. We all considered it as an excursion instead of the blessing ceremony of our English H.OD.

However, the experience we had was far beyond our expectation and definitely one that shall forever linger on our memory. It’s unfortunate I may not be able to use the right words to create the right scene in your minds but imagine it this way.

A journey that began around 10pm on Friday was sure to be revealing. I personally had the chance of seeing Cape Coast, Takoradi, Elubo and Half Assin itself for the first time. Initially we were all so excited travelling that far and even decided passing through Nzulezu on our return.

Travelling by night with the school bus was getting all chatty and interesting till eventually nature began to take its course and I definitely had a good time watching people battle with slumber. In fact, some of the sleeping skills were enough to make a cat laugh.

Spending the night in this crammed school bus was very hectic and when we finally got to the town around 8am on Saturday, almost everyone was looking all bitter and twisted.

To make matters worse, we lost track of the actual location and there was nowhere to get help. The H.O.D's phone was unreachable and it seemed no one knew of any ceremony taking place in the town. This gave us the opportunity to take a quick tour in this coastal town.

For the ‘Kumasianos’, it was the first time some had come close to the sea. It's one of the things that mother nature decided to hide from them amidst all the other things she blessed them with. There, we all admired the wonderful sight of nature for a while and then headed to the Elubo border.

It was a busy market day at this lakeside border- about twenty minutes away from Half Assin. There were scores of people transacting their own businesses while we watched on like the visitors that we were. So much was taking place at the time that we got to the place and i was amazed. People getting their goods on the canoes and travelling on the water without fear or favor.

In fact, i really admired their courage because i haven't had the chance to travel on water. However, the few minutes we spent there was just so uncomfortable for me. I really didn’t like the teeming environment as we were pushed here and there to give way to busy traders.

We almost had our cameras seized by the border officials because we wanted to take pictures of the surroundings. However, after some time of staring, some of us had to take advantage of the day to do a little shopping. I bought a travelling bag myself.

Finally, someone was sent to pick us up and direct us to the church where the ceremony was taking place. In fact, we were already exhausted and wanted to return to Tepa but we had no choice. We had to go for the ceremony.

After all was said and done, we boarded the bus for another mind-blowing ten hour drive. When i finally reached my place around 2am, i just had to give thanks to the Almighty that nothing happened on our return.

We all reported back to school early Monday morning to share our ordeal. It was fun and regrets in the staff common room. Even those who couldn't make it thanked their stars that at least they didnt have to go through all that.

Kwahu Easter........Ok, i almost forgot to tell you i went to my hometown for the Easter holidays. This was my first time there alone. I think my mum taking us to Kwahu to visit our grandparents when we were very little but in fact, i can't remember so listen to the "old me" at Kwahu.

School was on vacation and i didn't want to come home to Accra so i decided to take the chance to visit the old folks. They have always blamed my mum for not bringing us to the mountains often so i was set to make that change. She had told us stories about the famous "Kwahu Pip)" but it was left for me to experience it myself. I was matured now and i thought it wouldn't be as scary as we have been made to believe.

As usual, the folks were very delighted to see me. I was so amazed by the surrounding and the serene atmosphere that greeted me the first time was so amazing. In the bus, i kept telling myself "this is paradise!" No, I'm not exaggerating, i was breathing fresh air, feeding my eyes with the wonderful sight of nature as the care carefully climbed the mountain. It was marvelous!

A lot was happening in town. Many people came from all parts of the country to celebrate. When i finally got to my hometown Abetifi, Oh My God! I have always imagined that most buildings outside Accra looks awkward but in fact our family house was very comforting. My mum always said "go to Oboo and you will see better buildings." It was true! I really enjoyed my stay. I just didn't want to go back to Accra anymore.

The celebrations lasted for a couple of days and all the streets were crowded. Everywhere looked busy and getting a car to town was even stressful. Obomeng was the action centre even though the other towns like Mpraeso, Oboo, Akwati and other places did their own thing. Easter was just fun!

Oops! Did i tell you about small London? Hmmm, the weather at Kwahu was something else. I hear that is why they dont celebrate Christmas very. Their own celebration is the Easter. Even so, the weather wont allow. In fact, the first time i got to Abetifi, i asked the folks if they didn't have any fan around. They looked at me and laughed. My grand mum said, can you withstand the cold weather here?" Then i remembered all that my mum has told us about small London and i kept mute.

When i entered the bedroom to sleep later that night, i just didn't understand why the bed was stuffed with so many blankets and clothes for me to choose. I just smiled and just picked a piece a cloth among them and went to bed. Honestly, no one told me to pick the other two blankets. "Aw) nie?" The place was so cold and now i was rather in search of fire. lol

I finally woke up to a bright sunny morning the next day and i was presented with some warm water to take my bath. "Who baths with hot water these days?" i thought to myself. But in fact, when i got to the bathroom, it was a different story altogether. No wonder my mum once told us they use to boil hot water to even brush their teeth when the weather got worse.

There was something about the weather in Kwahu; it keeps changing at any time and i realized the sun didn't come up much like in Accra. The place was so cosy to live. Serene and beautiful. In fact, i love Kwahu and i am definitely going back this Easter. Wanna join?

Sign post says: You are entering Mpraeso town.

Episode 8

Wrapping up…….Well, well, well that was all about my tour and all too soon we have come to the end of this journey. I have, in a chronological order shared my experience as a service person to you.

You may concur with me that national service from my view is not really a big deal. However, it may

not be one of the good or the bad

that you may have experienced or heard. Anyway, the ball is still in your court. Let me hear from you. What do you think of this assessment?

In my humble opinion, I think my ordeal was nothing short of excitement and wonderful episodes. Though i had to cope with some challenges, i was able to maneuver my way through my independent life at Tepa.

I am therefore grateful to life for giving me such an experience. I learnt a lot, met new people, traveled to places and above all lived a fulfilling ten month on my own.

Obviously, I was able to make some acquaintances. They helped in making my stay an enjoyable one. Thanks to all of them; fellow national service personnel, teachers, friends and my students. It was nice sharing the moment with them.

Are you wondering if i grabbed? Well, i didn't. Anyway, I had a few visits from some lovely people all the way from Accra. They were all part of the journey you know. It was fun!

Okay lovely readers, there you have it. Right from the horses's own mouth. I hope you had a moment of reflection among any of the episodes or perhaps there was something peculiar that you learnt from this series.

This isn't goodbye. Let’s keep the story going. Leave your comments and tell me what you liked or didn't like about this series. Ask some questions and lets get talking.What was your favorite part? Come on, share with me......I'll be waiting to know your views. THANKS FOR READING!!!