Kwamina is working on a documentary for the regional Member of Parliament. Although he is busy, he has taken on another job. Together with Felix and me, he visits sites of projects that the MP started in his term of office. It is usually schools that benefitted. Scholarships were given, desks, beds and computers donated and new classroom blocks are being constructed. Most of them are not finished yet. One new building was put up directly next to a different new building that is still under construction. It was the former MP’s project. Instead of finishing one project, thus saving resources, a new project is started. The MP’s very own project. Many benefiting schools are secondary schools. They are big and often benefit from more than one organization. In Komenda, we pass one school that at first, we don’t recognize as a school. However, Kwamina knows the man sitting in front of the building. He turns out to be the school’s headteacher and tells us about his worries. It is a primary school and the building is also used as a community centre. Most classes sit along the wall in the courtyard under roofs but exposed to the weather. The two real classrooms are separated into more classrooms by removable walls that fall when wind rushes in. This is worth a story. Deprived primary school in Komenda pleads for help. Unfortunately we are under time pressure and have to move on.
On our way to the next school, I see a long row of students walking on the roadside. It must be a great distance from their school to their homes as we have been driving on this road for quite a while without passing a village. Their bright yellow and blue uniforms make a good picture against the tarmac road, I think, and alight to capture the scene. It is impressive. A young boy starts shouting at me. He doesn’t want me to take a picture of him and his friends and gets impolite. I go back into the car, intimidated. However, Kwamina calls him over. Calmly, he wants to know the guys name and his teacher’s name and then asks him to apologize. Instead of shouting and insulting me, he should have politely expressed his wish. He creates a bad image of Ghanaian people that I am likely to remember and take to my home country. Although grateful for Kwamina’s support, I feel slightly embarrassed. In fact, it is now the young man’s turn to be intimidated. He is probably afraid that Kwamina will tell his teacher about the incident. He even apologizes and promises to improve his behavior.
I recall another occasion when the photographing was taken badly. Again, we were on the road and passed some persons with canisters. They were fetching water from the nearby village as their own pipe was blocked. Kwamina and other journalists that were with us that moment got out of the car to interview them. I was asked to take shots. A group of students came along the way, all carrying a yellow canister. It was a good picture and I lifted my camera to capture it. At once, the students hid their faces behind their canisters and started laughing and shouting. Kwamina noticed the turmoil and talked to the students. ‘We are journalists and we want to report on your problem with the water.’ Now they were willing to walk back and pose for me to take a good shot. Kwamina interviewed them, too. Although they looked old, they were all primary students. They were eager to talk into the camera but when they were asked to say a few sentences in English, they all laughed and turned away. ‘You should learn English. It is important.’ The journalists were serious with them.
At one secondary school, we interview a group of students who received scholarships. They are extremely shy and have to be asked repeatedly to speak louder for the recording. Young students are less reserved. When they see us entering the school grounds, they come running towards us, ask for our names.
