Ghanaian Soccer Fans: Testosterone and Stinky Pits

Soccer - or "football" as it is called in every other place in the world besides the States - is the national pastime here in Ghana. On our first full day here in Kumasi, we were walking to find a bank to exchange money. Everyone on the street had their radios turned to a station with a man talking so fast I thought it was an auctioneer. All of a sudden, the entire city erupted in a roar of victory, completely stunning me and the rest of the researchers. Kumasi had just beaten Accra- their arch enemies - in the Ghana premier league championships. We soon found out the game had been here in Kumasi, for shortly after as we driving back to our hostel we encountered thousands of fans running wildly in the streets, waving their shirts frantically, honking horns, and jumping up and down as they poured out of the stadium. This was my first introduction to the extent to which Ghanaians live and breathe football.

My second introduction occurred last night. It turns out that Ghanaians are nearly as passionate about the European leagues as they are about their Ghanaian ones. The talk of Ghana the past couple of days has centered around last night's match between Manchester United and Chelsea as they faced off in Moscow for the Champions League final. Since we arrived here, we have met and made friends with a number of medical students who will be coming to the University of Michigan this fall to do 6 weeks of rounds at our hospital. The guys made us promise to join them for the match at the medical school hostel, located close to our own hostel.

Now, in the States, I picture the TV viewing of championship matches as a time for eating drinking, and swearing at the TV. You know - chips and salsa, beer, pretzels, cheese, popcorn, swearing at the TV...unfortunately we found out that in Ghana they replace food and drink with sweat and B.O., although they still retain the foul language. We arrived to find ourselves in a small, stuffy dark room with approximately 60 guys and no women save us. The air was the most awful smell of testosterone, sweat (it is soo hot here, and I'm guessing few if any of the guys managed a shower between hospital rounds and the game...eeew!) and hoooribble B.O. We were packed into the room, and I thought I'd pass out from the lack of fresh air - thank god I didn't have any food I was hoping to eat!

I was cheering for Chelsea, but they were playing lousy and Man U wasn't looking much better. When each team scored, guys would jump up, tear off their shirts, run around the perimeter of the room and then jump over all the couches and chairs where everyone was sitting, screaming and pounding their chests and body-checking the guys cheering for the opposing team. By the time the game finished its double OT and went into shoot-out, I pretty much didn't care anymore who won or lost- I just wanted to shower! And of course, just as the first round of shootouts ended and Chelsea stepped up to take the first sudden death kick, one of the excited fans kicked out the electricity cord and the TV went off - by the time it came back on, Chelsea had missed and Man U were the victors.

The Man U fans screamed as they ran out of the room, the scent of testosterone trailing behind them and into the street. Meanwhile, I couldn't even count on both hands the number of Chelsea fans I saw crying, including our med school friends.

Needless to say, I don't think us girls will choose to watch the next big game at their hostel, our own has a much bigger screen and an OUTDOOR LOUNGE WITH PLENTY OF FRESH AIR. Oh, and beer, too.

The game reminded me of being in Seoul at the town hall square with 60,ooo other S. Korea fans watching the World Cup, only of course it was outside, and their was food drinks, and yes - plenty of swearing.

Musings on what this research is really all about.

One of the most difficult aspects of working here at the Komfo Anokye Teaching Hospital is witnessing the horrible conditions under which the doctors and nurses must work to ensure the health of laboring women and their infants, and the squalid conditions under which women give birth. It is not seeing a woman give birth on the floor of the ward, or the lack of sanitary instruments, or even hearing of the woman who died the previous night after she delivered a still born baby. Rather, what makes bearing witness to such events so trying for me is learning to deal with seeing such daily happenings, without becoming numb to their significance in the broader global context of countries that have versus countries that desperately need. As my directer of this research Dr. Anderson pointedly remarked before he headed back to the States this past weekend, "Don't forget the significance and implications of what you see here. When you see two women to a bed, or hold the maternal death registry in your hands and feel its weight, don't ever forget that it should not be this way - that this is unacceptable." And yet, how does one allow oneself to feel so indignant at what one sees, when day after day one witnesses it and it becomes "normal." It is an intense exercise in emotional and intellectual compatibility.

Today was a glimpse for me of what lies in store for me as I work here. This week we are piloting our research, practicing collecting data and interviewing patients before we officially begin next Monday. When we made our way down the stairs from the 5th floor labor ward for the "VIP" women to the first floor where the delivery ward and "dark room" (the room housing all post-delivery complications) are, we were greeted with a loud, rather chaotic scene. On the tiny landing between the stairs, the elevator and the entrance to the delivery ward were about 20 men and women milling about. The elevator door was open - but there was no elevator. Men were shouting loudly up and down the shaft, below the elevator was stuck due to power failure with a laboring patient inside. Meanwhile, just inside the doors to the delivery room, people were peering through the windows to the floor. Inside is a very small waiting room where women who have begun labor but are not yet fully enough dilated to be brought to the delivery table wait. And as we arrived and walked up to see what they were looking at, I saw a woman lying, slumped against the doors, giving birth on the cement floor. It was over in seconds, there were two nurses there, one of which quickly cut the umbilical cord and carried the baby to the delivery room. The other one attended the new mother, and pulled her to her feet about 2 minutes later to walk to the recovery room. The woman was naked, covered in blood, and watched by over ten pairs of eyes through the door. We waited around a few minutes to see if we'd be able to get inside the doors to find our data books, but upon seeing the large amount of blood on the floor left to be cleaned up, we decided it was time for lunch.

Later today I told one of my medical resident friends what we had seen, and he laughed gravely and said that it was very common for women to give birth on that floor, and that the elevator ride was never a sure thing.

Last night, a woman died after giving birth. Two students here from University of Michigan to observe the wards saw three infants pass away today, all from asphyxiation - a cause of death that would never happen in the States where every newborn has access to assisted breathing machines.

As I left the hospital this afternoon, I noted the 30+ women sitting and lying under the tree in front of the main hospital entrance. these are the women who have no friends or relatives in Kumasi with who to stay with as they wait for their family members to be seen for their various illnesses.

Witnessing today's events and knowing that they are in no way unusual makes me evermore sure that my research matters. The death of these women and newborns will not be forgotten - through our careful recordings of their delivery, determination, and sometimes death, our research will contribute to the reduction of obstetric complications in this and other hospitals in Ghana.

As my sister Kelsyn graduates from college today, the world her oyster and the sky the limit, I can't help but reflect on the privilege American's have in growing up where we do, the opportunities we take for granted, and the relative ease with which we are able to secure clean water, safe shelter, education and medical care. One of the most important things about traveling is being able to witness what the majority of this world's population lacks, and to be humbled by the strength, resiliency and determination with which people in developing countries summon each day.

And it is because of my privilege as an American - as a middle-class white woman - that I feel compelled to travel around the world, learning from others and finding out how I might assist them in overcoming barriers to living their lives in dignity. This is what brought me to Kumasi, Ghana, West Africa.

Kelsyn, I am so proud of you for graduating today, and I know your time in South Korea will humble you as well, and that you too will find a way to use your English teaching to touch the lives of your students.