I am sitting back here in the computer lab on campus, just getting done reading the dozens of emails I missed this week while traveling around in Benin and Togo. I had the most amazing adventures these past ten days, but it just dawned on me, how lucky I am that I have interested people awaiting the details. More and more while traveling to new places, my thoughts have returned home, making me appreciate my life and all it's details so much more. One things for sure, I have fallen in love with Africa. I know many may scoff at that statement, considering I have only been to three out of 51 countries on this continent, but I stand by it. Unfortunately, there is no possible way to recount every detail, every sights, every emotion from this trip, it would simply defy the laws of nature, and one thing I have learned is not to mess with nature. However, like everything else here in Africa, I will adapt and do the best I can.
MAY 16th: Bon Voyage!
I have witnessed more sunrises in Ghana than I have in my whole life, and Friday morning, rising at 4 am was no exception. Natalie, Katie, Elaine and I left the chaos of the University for a week long adventure in Benin and Togo. Luckily the Togolese boarder was only four hours aways from Accra, making the rainy, bumpy trek completely bearable. Crossing the boarder was a bit of an ordeal, but I was so side tracked at first, deliriously excited to use the few French phrases Katie had been teaching me for weeks. Bonjour! Commet ca va? And just a few more. However, I quickly learned two important lessons. A) It took me five years to learn very very basic Spanish, so one week did not make me a fluent French speaker. B) Boarder officials just suck, they are corrupt and make you stoop so low as to flirt with them just so you can get a silly little stamp to get into their country. However, Togo was redeemed once across the boarder, for we took a taxi (paying in CFA for the first time!) to a pastry shop in downtown Lome. I got two I was so excited to see something other than rice!
After our afternoon treat we were off again in another shared taxi, all four of us squished in the back. Our goal was to make it all the way to the capital of Benin, Porto Novo by the end of the day. It sounds crazy when I reflect that we were able to cross the boarder of three countries in one day! Let me tell you it was quite the journey, and in this case, I would like to say that it was not the journey this time, but the destination. Crossing the Beninese boarder was like getting your teeth pulled with none of that numbing stuff. The boarder officials took delight in making us four Americans do the royal run around, making it extra stressful for Katie, the only French speaker among us. Once across the boarder and on our way to Porto Novo, we had to pass through the city of Cotonou, which has been fondly described in our guide book as a chain-smoking crack addict of a city. They are not describing the people, oh no no. They were describing the chaos of the streets, at least five cars and ten motto's, known as zemi-john's in Benin, squeezed in two lanes, all going a hundred miles an hour, with the thickest, blackest, nastiest smog engulfing all those cruising by. Just a half an hour in the city left me feeling like I had stuck my mouth around an exhaust pipe and just inhaled for a day!
Luckily we did not spend to much time in Cotonou, and I had already began dreading the moment we would have to pass through there again. Once into Porto Novo, we felt a much more relaxed and laid back vibe, not what I had expected of the capital after our journey there. Where we stayed was an first time experience in and of itself. We stayed the night in Centre Songhai, a commune! It was so fascinating, everything there was grown communally. It was a introduction to Benin and the wealth of knowledge about this mysterious country I was going to gain by the end of my trip.
Saturday, May 17th: The Venice of Africa
Saturday, May 17th, at about 10 am is a historic moment in time. It is the exact moment I got addicted to zemi-johns, the motorcycles that transport you all over the country. I am sorry Mom and Dad, but I could not help it, I cannot remember the last time I had that much fun. We took them around Porto Novo in the morning, exploring the Grand Marche, the Brazilian cathedral turned massive mosque ending our journey with another stop for pastries.
After explaining for what felt like an hour to the various men trying to help us at the transport station, Katie was finally able to get it across, that yes, we wanted to take the crowded minibus, over chartering a private car. It still cracks me up when people get so confused that we want to take public transportation, I am just as capable sitting three to a seat. And it's dirt cheap! We headed back to Cotonou so that we could catch a connecting car up to Abomey-Calavi. I was dreading going back to Cotonou, but it turned out much less painful then I expected, finding the right car to Abomey-Calavi instantly. Once reaching Abomey-Calavi, we headed down to the Lake Front to catch a boat ride to, drum role please, the largest stilt village in West Africa. Over thirty thousand people lived out in the middle of a lake on stilts, going about their daily life. The village has been around for centuries and is evidence to Benin's very bloody history. The village was constructed as refuge from greedy slave traders and waring tribes of Dahomey (which was what Benin was up until the 1970s). Gerard, the boat driver, took us on our merry way to the stilt village, about an hour out onto the lake. We all got horrible sun burns, although they would not be the last. We passed by many fishermen and women returning with goods from the shores. One such women asked each of us if we would like some FGM, or female genital mutilation. Of course we politely said no thank you and were left on the boat the rest of the way a bit confused.
The stilt village, Ganvie, will forever remain on my list of the top ten coolest places I have ever visited. A whole little world existed ten feet above the water, or on boats traveling throughout the city. People had stores on their boats, and the market place ended up being right in front of our hotel, making for some of the best people watching ever. Yes, yes you heard me clearly, we stayed in the stilt village, and yes yes, our room was on stilts! Later in the afternoon, once the sun was not blazing, Lambert, the hotel man, took us around the town in his boat. We heard a constant stream of children yelling "Yovo!" (white person) from upon the stilts. I could not grasp the possibility that people could survive like this. Life lesson number 782 I suppose!
Staying there that night and enjoying the sound of water below could have made the trip, little did I know that that was merely day two, and I had so much more to explore. Let just say, I cannot wait to show off my photos!
Sunday and Monday May 18th and 19th: Voodoo and Kings and such...
Sunday, I truly believe, can be attributed to none other than good ju-ju. Voodoo is Benin's nationally recognized religion, and I strongly believe that something was at play during our stay in Abomey. Abomey was about three hours north of Abomey-Calavi and the stilt village. Our journey began with my first solo order of a delicious avocado sandwich, in French, and ended all cramped and sore in Abomey in the early afternoon. We found and instantly fell in love with the creepiest and most charming hotel down the dirt streets of Abomey. Hotel La Lutta, run by Da Lutta, was one for the record books. All four of us stayed in a room with mattresses on the floor for less than ten bucks a night, where the shower we latter discovered drained directly into the room. We didn't care, as far as we were concerned, this little hotel with a living room full of voodoo dolls was a five star swanky place in Paris. Everyone was so welcoming, especially Da, who invited us to a Voodoo ceremony, that unfortunately got canceled on account of the rain.
After settling in we took to exploring the city, which I fell in love with, especially considering exploring meant more motto rides for me. We hit up the local museum, which was magically free, the one day out of 365 days, saving us a chunk of money! Again, good ju-ju. The museum housed amazing artifacts from Dahomey's very bloody history, including a Kings thrown mounted on human skulls!
Although I did not dream it to be possible, the next day topped all the rest. Da, and tree other drivers, took us on a motto tour of the city, taking us to various sacred voodoo temples, a village of 500 who for the past centuries has never married outside itself, various monuments, a voodoo market fresh with monkey heads, a French graveyard and many many ancient palaces. At one such palace of King Agongolo (butchered the spelling), we discovered something very interesting about our guide. Throughout the day, people had been greeting Da with such reverence and respect, well, that's because Da is in the line of Kings of Dahomey. You know, "Da" as in "Da-homey." Only in Africa could you stay in a sweet little hotel and stumble upon royalty! Well, the tour made Benin for me. I learned more about Benin in two short days in Abomey then I could in a life time at the greatest library!
AHHHHHH: This is just my rough draft for my minutes are running out in three, so I will list what's coming next. Don't hold your breath because I am heading to the western region of Ghana again until Friday, when I will return to the computer at the crack of dawn to complete my tales! Life is just unreal here, it truly feels like a dream all that I am able to accomplish here...
Tuesday, May 20th: Coast of Benin, the Walk of No Return
Wednesday, May 21st: Heading into Lome, the Capital of Togo and the closest I have every come to France. Time spent exploring the city, people watching, market exploring, food gorging and horse back riding!
Thursday, May 22nd: Headed off to Kpalime, getting stranded away from our spot in the mountains!
Friday, May 23rd: The magical forest high in the Togolese mountains. Time spent at the Hotel de Papion (butterflies) with "The Butterfly man," who took us on a breath taking hike in the mountains to find butterflies, natural paints and waterfalls!
Saturday, May 24th: More adventures in the mountains, including great motto rides, mountains looking into Ghana and waterfall showers, complete with live music and craziness back at the Hotel de Papion.
Sunday, May 25th: Adventures trying to get back into Ghana and successfully returning to reality, well that's questionable...
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Time's A Ticking
I have many many many untold stories I need to be sharing, but time is money, and I have little of both. The reason I am posting this rushed entry is to let you know what I promise to write about in two weeks, and that way you can hold me to it....and to tell you what I am doing for the next two weeks and beyond. So, the stories I owe you, and keep me an girl of my world, harass me day and night, but here they are:
1) My first little solo trip up to the mountains in Aburi.
2) Research in Accra, hectic tro-tros, and the near brawl I got into with a man harassing me...
3) Finishing up volunteering at the local primary school, I have some pretty cute pics.
4) An AMAZING trip to Kumasi, the heart and soul of Ghana.
5) A dance and drumming final....both results questionable.
6) My week from hell that almost sent me packing, including unfortunate flirting with government officials from Togo and Benin to get visas, having to change a travel plans around five million times, amazing lightning storms, Internet shortages, getting sick, getting even sicker when the electricity was out...very bad visuals there.
I have been running a marathon, and I feel like this is the final stretch. I am 21 pages into my research paper, and probably have another 21 to go. I have finals coming up, on what, who knows! Classes are still the biggest mystery to me, one that will be forever unsolved considering today was the last day of classes. But, despite all the stress of these final weeks, I have some amazing adventures planned I would like to share with you. Here's the itinerary:
1) Tomorrow, May 16th at 5am, I depart for Benin for four days, and back track to Togo for a few days, returning May 25th. So look for that blog update! Togo and Benin are both French speaking countries, and Benin's official religion is Voodoo, yes Voodoo, so look out for more creepy stories.
2) So I get back Sunday the 25th, and I leave the 26th with my future neighbor in Davis, the lovely Jess, for the Western region of Ghana, hitting up a village that is built on STILTS! I'll be returning from that journey either the 29th or the 30th. Again expect another email.
3) After three days dedicated to writing my paper, yes only three, I will be taking off yet again, not completely set on the destination, but I'll figure something out.
4) FINALS from the June 9th to the 14th.
NOW for the crazy trip, and I am not sure how many of you are aware of my big plans. I am calling this my trip around the world, even though it will cover only four countries outside Ghana, it is going to feel like a trip around the world. From details I've gathered from others who have made the journey, it is a hard core trek. So here's the plan:
We are going up through Northern Ghana to Burkina Faso, then to Mali, all around Mali, onto Senegal, flying from Senegal to Ivory Coast (or what my Mom likes to call the rebel country), and then busing it back to Accra in order to catch my flight on July 15th.
It is going to be the trip of a lifetime, I can hardly wait. I feel like this is one of those defining moments, one of those few opportunities that come around that you just have to go for, having no clue how things will turn out. Unfortunately we are traveling during rainy season, making conditions completely unpredictable. However, I am completely optimistic. I am traveling with two other fabulous girls, Katie and Elaine, whom both attend Berkeley, and together I think we will make quite a team. I mean, this is the real thing, we are roughing it, backpacking, sleeping in a tent, trying to get to Timbuktu! I suggest that those with a touch of curiosity check out something like the Lonely Planet guide and read about these places, I wonder if it will intrigue you as much as it has me.
Also, I have a favor of those who take time out of there busy days to check up on me, to get me through this whirlwind two months, I would love to hear from you, especially before June 15th, I would love the boost. I mean who know, I might getting stuck in Timbuktu.
Okay, so sorry for this cheating you this time around, but I am sure in the end I will not disappoint any of you!
-Ali (or as I have been recently renamed, Sticks)
(HAPPY 17th BIRTHDAY CARLY ROSE!!!!!)
1) My first little solo trip up to the mountains in Aburi.
2) Research in Accra, hectic tro-tros, and the near brawl I got into with a man harassing me...
3) Finishing up volunteering at the local primary school, I have some pretty cute pics.
4) An AMAZING trip to Kumasi, the heart and soul of Ghana.
5) A dance and drumming final....both results questionable.
6) My week from hell that almost sent me packing, including unfortunate flirting with government officials from Togo and Benin to get visas, having to change a travel plans around five million times, amazing lightning storms, Internet shortages, getting sick, getting even sicker when the electricity was out...very bad visuals there.
I have been running a marathon, and I feel like this is the final stretch. I am 21 pages into my research paper, and probably have another 21 to go. I have finals coming up, on what, who knows! Classes are still the biggest mystery to me, one that will be forever unsolved considering today was the last day of classes. But, despite all the stress of these final weeks, I have some amazing adventures planned I would like to share with you. Here's the itinerary:
1) Tomorrow, May 16th at 5am, I depart for Benin for four days, and back track to Togo for a few days, returning May 25th. So look for that blog update! Togo and Benin are both French speaking countries, and Benin's official religion is Voodoo, yes Voodoo, so look out for more creepy stories.
2) So I get back Sunday the 25th, and I leave the 26th with my future neighbor in Davis, the lovely Jess, for the Western region of Ghana, hitting up a village that is built on STILTS! I'll be returning from that journey either the 29th or the 30th. Again expect another email.
3) After three days dedicated to writing my paper, yes only three, I will be taking off yet again, not completely set on the destination, but I'll figure something out.
4) FINALS from the June 9th to the 14th.
NOW for the crazy trip, and I am not sure how many of you are aware of my big plans. I am calling this my trip around the world, even though it will cover only four countries outside Ghana, it is going to feel like a trip around the world. From details I've gathered from others who have made the journey, it is a hard core trek. So here's the plan:
We are going up through Northern Ghana to Burkina Faso, then to Mali, all around Mali, onto Senegal, flying from Senegal to Ivory Coast (or what my Mom likes to call the rebel country), and then busing it back to Accra in order to catch my flight on July 15th.
It is going to be the trip of a lifetime, I can hardly wait. I feel like this is one of those defining moments, one of those few opportunities that come around that you just have to go for, having no clue how things will turn out. Unfortunately we are traveling during rainy season, making conditions completely unpredictable. However, I am completely optimistic. I am traveling with two other fabulous girls, Katie and Elaine, whom both attend Berkeley, and together I think we will make quite a team. I mean, this is the real thing, we are roughing it, backpacking, sleeping in a tent, trying to get to Timbuktu! I suggest that those with a touch of curiosity check out something like the Lonely Planet guide and read about these places, I wonder if it will intrigue you as much as it has me.
Also, I have a favor of those who take time out of there busy days to check up on me, to get me through this whirlwind two months, I would love to hear from you, especially before June 15th, I would love the boost. I mean who know, I might getting stuck in Timbuktu.
Okay, so sorry for this cheating you this time around, but I am sure in the end I will not disappoint any of you!
-Ali (or as I have been recently renamed, Sticks)
(HAPPY 17th BIRTHDAY CARLY ROSE!!!!!)
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Go Tell It On The Mountain
Traveling pushes your limits, physically, mentally, economically and emotionally...basically all the "ly's." I have been itching to tell all about my weekend, that I wish could say just passed, but was the weekend before last. Although it may not be as timely, I feel like it was just yesterday, and maybe that has something to do with just being sore still!
Last weekend a huge group of us EAP students traveled further up the Volta Region, passing through Hohoe, and onto Wli, a little village only 15 a hop skip and a jump from Hohoe. The tro-tro ride there was like a roller coaster...that lasted four hours, weaving in and out of traffic, playing chicken with other tro-tro's, dogging pot holes only to hit other ones.
Once we reached Wli, we stayed at one of the only hotels around run by this very bitter and rude German couple. I think they don't like students very much and they spotted us from a mile away. None of us wasted to much time fretting over them though because we were all to in aw of our surroundings. The whole world around us was green, and I mean very very green. Wli, lying in a valley of sort was completely surrounded by beautiful mountains. In the very distance, at the top of one of the mountains you could see the top of the waterfall. We could not wait another minute to be in that water. Unfortunately, rushing is just not a possibility in Ghana, and all the stars will align you from getting anything done quickly. We stopped for a quick meal, emphasis on quick, and ended up waiting forever. No big deal, this is Ghana, we are used to waiting, and at least we had the opportunity to watch the screaming, yes screaming goats frolic around us. After our fried rice we headed off on our 45 minute hike to the lower waterfall, which we didn't hike, but sprinted because it was already late in the afternoon, and none of us wanted to be stranded in the rainforest, without a guide in the pitch black. When we saw that waterfall I though I might pass out. IT WAS HUGE! All we could see was the lower falls too, the upper falls were further up the mountain and were not visible to us. There was a man there that was yelling at me and flapping his wings. I just assumed he hit with the crazy stick or something, but eventually I understood what he was trying to tell me. BATS! There were thousands and thousands and thousands of bats on the sheer cliff beside the waterfall. Later, Mike was climbing on the rocks near the falls and almost stepped on an injured bat. The man from earlier took much delight in our fear of them, collected this injured bat, and informed us that it was dinner. Yes, they eat bat's here, I've heard they are really tasty too, but I was not about to stomach one, I just couldn't stop thinking about bat man. Well, as soon as I could get over the bat infestation, I had my clothes off and was in the water. Don't worry, I had a swim suit! The water was so cold we were shivering for one, and I could only stand underneath the falls for a moment for I was getting completely pounded by water from above. The whole experience was very surreal and most beautiful. That night we were able to relax and enjoy a meal back at the German's stomping ground. In the night the rest of our friends arrived, and the next day we were off for a pleasent hike through the mountains about 15 minutes away...or so I thought.
This Saturday was one of the best spent here in Ghana, at least in terms of pushing myself to the limits. All ELEVEN of us took off on a six hour hike up the side of this mountain, passing by and through six different caves. Our guide Godwin did this whole hike in sandals, while the rest of us were in our hiking boots with our gallons of water. Godwin informed us that hundreds had done this very hike as refugees fleeing from Togo once upon a time. We passed through caves that people years and years ago used to hide in. At one point, Godwin stopped and pointed to a village we could see in the distance, letting us know that that was a Togolese village. I had no idea we were on a mountain that separated Ghana and Togo, I guess that's something said for more geography studies I must pursue.
Another thing learned about myself, I can get competitive and I feed of others around me. When we were hiking up this mountain, I was a step behind to guys that seemed like they were running a race up this mountain. I am convinced that it's because I have brothers, but I always have to keep up with the boys. I busted my butt, panting like a dog, covered in sweat, but I did it, and that felt good. I mean, the hike that we did would have totally been illegal in the US. There would be all sorts of regulations and harnesses if you were doing this at some national park or something. We were full on rock climbing at parts, up sheer rocks, into and through caves. It was not until we crawled into one cave that I realized the true force of my lungs. We climbed down into this pitch dark cave, turned a flashlight on and saw bats hurtling towards us. I screamed so loud that people hit the floor. Well, despite the bat run in, every moment of the hike was amazing. We were pushed to the limit, exhausted and thirsty, but that view up at the top, where a little Ghana flag blew, was priceless. I have never seen such green greens. The hike down would have take only a fraction of the time if it were not for the mango trees that we feasted on. I think I must have had about seven mangoes we gathered from the trees, rinsing them in a little waterfall that we stopped by to cool off in. We returned to Wli, both exhausted and exhilarated. After our long day, we were greeted with a massive storm, thunder, lightning, the works. The next morning, all around us the mountains were covered in fog to the point we could not see the peaks. It was beautiful enough that the fact I felt like I was going to pass out was of little signifiance. All in all the weekend was simply spectacular...wow, I sound like I am trying to be a poet, just forgive.
Last weekend a huge group of us EAP students traveled further up the Volta Region, passing through Hohoe, and onto Wli, a little village only 15 a hop skip and a jump from Hohoe. The tro-tro ride there was like a roller coaster...that lasted four hours, weaving in and out of traffic, playing chicken with other tro-tro's, dogging pot holes only to hit other ones.
Once we reached Wli, we stayed at one of the only hotels around run by this very bitter and rude German couple. I think they don't like students very much and they spotted us from a mile away. None of us wasted to much time fretting over them though because we were all to in aw of our surroundings. The whole world around us was green, and I mean very very green. Wli, lying in a valley of sort was completely surrounded by beautiful mountains. In the very distance, at the top of one of the mountains you could see the top of the waterfall. We could not wait another minute to be in that water. Unfortunately, rushing is just not a possibility in Ghana, and all the stars will align you from getting anything done quickly. We stopped for a quick meal, emphasis on quick, and ended up waiting forever. No big deal, this is Ghana, we are used to waiting, and at least we had the opportunity to watch the screaming, yes screaming goats frolic around us. After our fried rice we headed off on our 45 minute hike to the lower waterfall, which we didn't hike, but sprinted because it was already late in the afternoon, and none of us wanted to be stranded in the rainforest, without a guide in the pitch black. When we saw that waterfall I though I might pass out. IT WAS HUGE! All we could see was the lower falls too, the upper falls were further up the mountain and were not visible to us. There was a man there that was yelling at me and flapping his wings. I just assumed he hit with the crazy stick or something, but eventually I understood what he was trying to tell me. BATS! There were thousands and thousands and thousands of bats on the sheer cliff beside the waterfall. Later, Mike was climbing on the rocks near the falls and almost stepped on an injured bat. The man from earlier took much delight in our fear of them, collected this injured bat, and informed us that it was dinner. Yes, they eat bat's here, I've heard they are really tasty too, but I was not about to stomach one, I just couldn't stop thinking about bat man. Well, as soon as I could get over the bat infestation, I had my clothes off and was in the water. Don't worry, I had a swim suit! The water was so cold we were shivering for one, and I could only stand underneath the falls for a moment for I was getting completely pounded by water from above. The whole experience was very surreal and most beautiful. That night we were able to relax and enjoy a meal back at the German's stomping ground. In the night the rest of our friends arrived, and the next day we were off for a pleasent hike through the mountains about 15 minutes away...or so I thought.
This Saturday was one of the best spent here in Ghana, at least in terms of pushing myself to the limits. All ELEVEN of us took off on a six hour hike up the side of this mountain, passing by and through six different caves. Our guide Godwin did this whole hike in sandals, while the rest of us were in our hiking boots with our gallons of water. Godwin informed us that hundreds had done this very hike as refugees fleeing from Togo once upon a time. We passed through caves that people years and years ago used to hide in. At one point, Godwin stopped and pointed to a village we could see in the distance, letting us know that that was a Togolese village. I had no idea we were on a mountain that separated Ghana and Togo, I guess that's something said for more geography studies I must pursue.
Another thing learned about myself, I can get competitive and I feed of others around me. When we were hiking up this mountain, I was a step behind to guys that seemed like they were running a race up this mountain. I am convinced that it's because I have brothers, but I always have to keep up with the boys. I busted my butt, panting like a dog, covered in sweat, but I did it, and that felt good. I mean, the hike that we did would have totally been illegal in the US. There would be all sorts of regulations and harnesses if you were doing this at some national park or something. We were full on rock climbing at parts, up sheer rocks, into and through caves. It was not until we crawled into one cave that I realized the true force of my lungs. We climbed down into this pitch dark cave, turned a flashlight on and saw bats hurtling towards us. I screamed so loud that people hit the floor. Well, despite the bat run in, every moment of the hike was amazing. We were pushed to the limit, exhausted and thirsty, but that view up at the top, where a little Ghana flag blew, was priceless. I have never seen such green greens. The hike down would have take only a fraction of the time if it were not for the mango trees that we feasted on. I think I must have had about seven mangoes we gathered from the trees, rinsing them in a little waterfall that we stopped by to cool off in. We returned to Wli, both exhausted and exhilarated. After our long day, we were greeted with a massive storm, thunder, lightning, the works. The next morning, all around us the mountains were covered in fog to the point we could not see the peaks. It was beautiful enough that the fact I felt like I was going to pass out was of little signifiance. All in all the weekend was simply spectacular...wow, I sound like I am trying to be a poet, just forgive.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Message In a Bottle
I'm sick again today, but have sought refuge in the computer lab, because there is FANS! Don't worry, I don't have malaria, well, I think I don't have malaria. Did you know that after you get malaria once you can no longer donate blood? Yes, finally an excuse other than I am afraid of needles... This week I have been pushing myself to be productive, and let me tell you it is a fight. Everything seems here always takes three times as long as it would back home. If I could have my way and rewind, I would have done all of my theoretical research back home, you know the place where you have Internet at your finger-tips and you are actually allowed to check out books, and then only have field research to do here. In case any one's wondering, I am doing my research project on microfinance and women in Ghana. Tuesday I headed out in downtown Accra to the Ministry of Women and Children and was given the royal run around. I went from office to office, getting yelled at for wasting people's time, one woman repeating over and over again, "this is the government, you think you can just walk in here!" Well, I guess I did. Eventually though, that same woman sat down for an interview, became my greatest bud, told me what I needed to know and asked for my phone number. So you see, it's possible to be successful and productive, just takes forever. Oh, and yesterday, I had a meeting with my advisor for my research project, and apparently he wants me write a dissertation....so yeah. But don't fret, I still have travel stories!!!
This past weekend, I took off to Ada Foah, about two hours East of Accra. Finding the station in Accra was a trip in itself. We got lost in a market looking for the Tudu station. I was ready to pass out from the smell of fish and pigs feet, when this shriveled old woman instructed us to follow. So, desperate to escape the smells, we blindly followed, weaving in and out of little alleys of the market, sandwiched in between women selling cassava roots and dried out fish heads. Magically we arrived at a crowded station, thanking the old woman as if she had just found the cure for cancer. We sat in that crowded station for an hour, although I could of sworn it was five, waiting it to fill up in the drastic heat and humidity.
About two hours latter we arrived in Ada Foah. Along the drive there was stand after stand with mangoes for sale, I though I was in heaven. Well, then I saw the Volta river and knew I was. I believe I described some of this region to you before, but I am sure I did not do it any justice. Ada Foah is where the river meets the ocean, and it is possible one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. There is so much green on the shores of the river to contrast the deep blue of the water. The river banks were covered with palm trees to the point you could not even see dry land in most spots. Natalie and I sat there for a while, just taking it in. That's not all we were sitting there motionless for, also leading me to the conclusion I was in heaven was the breeze. It was cool, really cool. So we ate and we waited for a boat to pick us up to take us down toward the estuary where we would be staying. I was so anxious to get there so I could throw my stuff down, wiggle into my bathing suit and hit the water. (Not to mention I would have my choice if I wanted to frolic in the Atlantic Ocean or the Volta River, considering where we were staying was sandwiched in between). Thus, when a boat pulled up and I asked if he was the guy we had just talked to on the phone and he energetically ensured he was, we hopped in and were off....only to realize we had been kidnapped. Okay, exaggeration, we were not really kidnapped, but while in the boat I got a call from Winfred, better known as Rasta man, who was from the place we were going to stay wondering where we were. Apparently Theo, the man who had picked us up owns his own little place on the Volta river for guest to stay at and jumped at the chance of visitors. Well, we had to go where we planned, even to Theo's disappointment. And then, he pulled the boat over, stopping in front of a village, got out and proceeded to fight with some of the locals. Natalie and I were clueless to what the hell was going on. We got in a boat and now had fifty woman and children watching us like we were ghosts and Theo was screaming at the fisherman. I asked one of the women what was going on and she informed me that Theo's engine had cut the lines of the fisherman's nets, and they want him to pay for them. Also, apparently the argument was intensified because Theo was a Ga and they were Ewe. Natalie and I just sat there helpless with not a clue in the world what to do, just watching this event unfold, meanwhile receiving several calls from Rasta man wondering if we had capsized or something. Eventually Theo settled back into the boat and apologized, exclaiming that it took so long because they had expected him to pay two cedi to repair the net. Two cedi, meaning two American dollar would have solved this conflict. It broke my heart a little, realizing how insignificant two cedi's is to most of us international students here, and to them it was cause for world war three. Just another reminder of how fortunate I am, and that it should be continually recognized here that people are obviously not as well of. I wish I could have just given him the two cedi to avoid such intense conflict, but it's not my place to interfere, right? AHHH!
Well, eventually we made it to the Maranata, where we were staying, in simple reed huts with sand floors and a mosquito net. We wanted to take a walk down to where the river meets the ocean, for we have heared from so many that it is like a religious experience. In fact, every August there is a huge festival when people come from all around to wash their feed in the middle of the river. Well, half way there the Apocalypse came, clouds the size of cruise liners and the deepest color of grey rolled in and opened up, soaking us. Although we weren't prepared yet for a swim, the storm was very welcomed because along with a beautiful lightning show over the ocean, it cooled the Earth. I was cold. I was cold and could not recall the last time I had ever felt that sensation. We sat outside all night, just happy to be cold. I went to bed and slept through the night because I was cold. Cold is a beautiful thing.
The next day we were able to make the hour hike down to the estuary, and no description had done any justice. The violent waves from the Atlantic were crashing with the flow of the Volta river. It reminded me of some epic battle, the River pushing and trying to break past the ocean and the ocean trying to push the river back where it belongs. On our walk back, after passing fishermen out at work, we swam in the River, hoping it will not give us any diseases like, um, River blindness. The whole time I thought how fascinating that to me this is a paradise, and to all those living along the banks it is simply home, and the river, their sustenance. Interesting. Later that day, after already being burnt to a crisp, Winfred took us on a boat ride around the Volta River, stopping at a Rum making Island. Yes, this village on an Island on the River makes rum for a living. They took us around showing us how they make the rum, and "forcing" us to sample. Lucky for them, making us sample also made us happy to buy some...smart salesmen!
The rest of the weekend was spent in the water, collecting shells, contemplating the meaning of life, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, drinking rum, enjoying bonfire and writing in my journal.
So you see, I guess I should not be allowed to complain about my hectic week of research, because I found paradise baby.
This past weekend, I took off to Ada Foah, about two hours East of Accra. Finding the station in Accra was a trip in itself. We got lost in a market looking for the Tudu station. I was ready to pass out from the smell of fish and pigs feet, when this shriveled old woman instructed us to follow. So, desperate to escape the smells, we blindly followed, weaving in and out of little alleys of the market, sandwiched in between women selling cassava roots and dried out fish heads. Magically we arrived at a crowded station, thanking the old woman as if she had just found the cure for cancer. We sat in that crowded station for an hour, although I could of sworn it was five, waiting it to fill up in the drastic heat and humidity.
About two hours latter we arrived in Ada Foah. Along the drive there was stand after stand with mangoes for sale, I though I was in heaven. Well, then I saw the Volta river and knew I was. I believe I described some of this region to you before, but I am sure I did not do it any justice. Ada Foah is where the river meets the ocean, and it is possible one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. There is so much green on the shores of the river to contrast the deep blue of the water. The river banks were covered with palm trees to the point you could not even see dry land in most spots. Natalie and I sat there for a while, just taking it in. That's not all we were sitting there motionless for, also leading me to the conclusion I was in heaven was the breeze. It was cool, really cool. So we ate and we waited for a boat to pick us up to take us down toward the estuary where we would be staying. I was so anxious to get there so I could throw my stuff down, wiggle into my bathing suit and hit the water. (Not to mention I would have my choice if I wanted to frolic in the Atlantic Ocean or the Volta River, considering where we were staying was sandwiched in between). Thus, when a boat pulled up and I asked if he was the guy we had just talked to on the phone and he energetically ensured he was, we hopped in and were off....only to realize we had been kidnapped. Okay, exaggeration, we were not really kidnapped, but while in the boat I got a call from Winfred, better known as Rasta man, who was from the place we were going to stay wondering where we were. Apparently Theo, the man who had picked us up owns his own little place on the Volta river for guest to stay at and jumped at the chance of visitors. Well, we had to go where we planned, even to Theo's disappointment. And then, he pulled the boat over, stopping in front of a village, got out and proceeded to fight with some of the locals. Natalie and I were clueless to what the hell was going on. We got in a boat and now had fifty woman and children watching us like we were ghosts and Theo was screaming at the fisherman. I asked one of the women what was going on and she informed me that Theo's engine had cut the lines of the fisherman's nets, and they want him to pay for them. Also, apparently the argument was intensified because Theo was a Ga and they were Ewe. Natalie and I just sat there helpless with not a clue in the world what to do, just watching this event unfold, meanwhile receiving several calls from Rasta man wondering if we had capsized or something. Eventually Theo settled back into the boat and apologized, exclaiming that it took so long because they had expected him to pay two cedi to repair the net. Two cedi, meaning two American dollar would have solved this conflict. It broke my heart a little, realizing how insignificant two cedi's is to most of us international students here, and to them it was cause for world war three. Just another reminder of how fortunate I am, and that it should be continually recognized here that people are obviously not as well of. I wish I could have just given him the two cedi to avoid such intense conflict, but it's not my place to interfere, right? AHHH!
Well, eventually we made it to the Maranata, where we were staying, in simple reed huts with sand floors and a mosquito net. We wanted to take a walk down to where the river meets the ocean, for we have heared from so many that it is like a religious experience. In fact, every August there is a huge festival when people come from all around to wash their feed in the middle of the river. Well, half way there the Apocalypse came, clouds the size of cruise liners and the deepest color of grey rolled in and opened up, soaking us. Although we weren't prepared yet for a swim, the storm was very welcomed because along with a beautiful lightning show over the ocean, it cooled the Earth. I was cold. I was cold and could not recall the last time I had ever felt that sensation. We sat outside all night, just happy to be cold. I went to bed and slept through the night because I was cold. Cold is a beautiful thing.
The next day we were able to make the hour hike down to the estuary, and no description had done any justice. The violent waves from the Atlantic were crashing with the flow of the Volta river. It reminded me of some epic battle, the River pushing and trying to break past the ocean and the ocean trying to push the river back where it belongs. On our walk back, after passing fishermen out at work, we swam in the River, hoping it will not give us any diseases like, um, River blindness. The whole time I thought how fascinating that to me this is a paradise, and to all those living along the banks it is simply home, and the river, their sustenance. Interesting. Later that day, after already being burnt to a crisp, Winfred took us on a boat ride around the Volta River, stopping at a Rum making Island. Yes, this village on an Island on the River makes rum for a living. They took us around showing us how they make the rum, and "forcing" us to sample. Lucky for them, making us sample also made us happy to buy some...smart salesmen!
The rest of the weekend was spent in the water, collecting shells, contemplating the meaning of life, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, drinking rum, enjoying bonfire and writing in my journal.
So you see, I guess I should not be allowed to complain about my hectic week of research, because I found paradise baby.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Funerals, Libations and High Priestessess
I have just recently rediscovered this past week that school work cannot be put off forever. Thus, this week I have been exploring very unfamiliar territory, the library! Yes, believe it or not, my adventures each week are now being interrupted by actual research, for my deadline for my research project is quickly approaching, and like usual, I am putting it off. However, my past weekend must be discussed.
Have I mentioned my drumming instructor? Well, if not, here I go. I adore the man. He is a musical genius, according to me, who didn't even know I was capable of liking, much less ever playing any sort of instrument. Now, don't misinterpret me, I am no Ringo when it comes to the drums and I have no rhythm, but hey, I love hearing the drums, playing them and watching others play them. And Johnson, my teacher, is both an amazing drummer and an amazing teacher. Tim, if you were not so convinced that you will die of malaria when visiting Africa, the music here would be worth the trip! Well, anyways, Johnson organized a trip for the students in his drumming class to go with him to his village, Dzodze, in the Volta region for the weekend to attend a funeral. Yes, a funeral. Of course, all I thought when funerals come to mind, was lots of black, awkward small talk with distant relatives and basically an all around somber affair. Well, I was very mistaken.
We left Friday morning for Dzodze, and the drive was amazing. I had never been to this region of Ghana, the Eastern region. We passed over the Volta River, right along the coast, near a popular destination of Ada, where I am heading this upcoming weekend. Then, later we drove through Keta, which is this small coastal town that has the Atlantic ocean on one side, and this MASSIVE lagoon on the other side. It was literally a strip of land, that according to my guidebook, is slowly eroding away, considering it's below sea level. The book mentioned that one day, that strip of land may no longer be there. I guess you could call it the Venice of Africa? The views were amazing. However, not so amazing was the road. It was an "I hope I can walk after this" moment, as the roads were unpaved and scattered with pot-holes the size of Utah. We survived of course and arrived in Dzodze, which was only about 20 minutes from the boarder of Togo.
After getting out of the car and stretching, I heard giggles from above. Looking up, there were a couple of kids hanging out of a tree watching me. That's how I was greeted. No one yelling "oburoni," just people happy to see us there, a trend that I felt lasted the whole weekend. I didn't feel like a tourist or an outsider, just a welcomed guest. Johnson had made arrangements for us to stay with his junior sister (his youngest sister). However, before we settled in, he had us lined up on some benches, so he could properly welcome us...with libations. Libations. according to Johnson, is giving thanks to God for, well, anything, like for a safe journey. Thus, he passed around a shot glass and we all took a swig of a local liquor, dumping some on the ground for praise. What a way to start off the day, with gin shots.
After a lunch/dinner of banku and very chemically flavored water, we headed off to the first rounds of celebration. We walked up to the main road where people dressed in red and black were parading through the streets. Some of them were wailing and others were rejoicing, an ever present antithesis. We followed behind the procession, behind the last taxi. I noticed that the person sitting between two younger men was all cloaked in traditional fabrics. I asked Johnson who that person was, and he simply replied "that's the dead body, that why we are here." SO, yeah, dead body, wrapped in the back of a taxi. Needless to say, ever the anthropologist, I was very curious how the rest of the weekend would pan out.
The precession ended where the music began. Dozens upon dozens were crowded into a courtyard in the town. I was instantly overwhelmed because this was unlike any funeral I have ever been to. When I think of funerals in the US, instantly I imagine a crowded rooms, with people all dressed in black, somber and forced to make painful small talk with long lost relatives and friends. In Dzodze, the funeral was a community affair. Appropriately, the family was sitting of to the side, mourning, and when I say mourning I mean wailing. I thought I would not be able to sleep after seeing and hearing the cries of one woman in particular, you would have thought she was being brutally murdered. On the other hand, those outside the family were congregated in the center and having a good old fashioned dance party. We were standing on the outside, trying to take everything in and understand our purpose at the funeral, because obviously we were totally out of place. And then, one older, somewhat crazy, woman grabbed each one of us and dragged us into the crowd to join in on the dancing. So it my function became apparent, I was to celebrate, and celebrate I did. After a bit of dancing, and watching them carry the body into it's temporary resting place, we returned to Johnson's sisters compound to rest up. Of course, considering that we are a drumming class, Johnson gathered drums from all around, and we sat in the pitch black and began a drumming circle.
Later, way past my bed time and after many went to sleep, Johnson energetically retrieved us all and informed us that we must return to the celebration. Although exhausted, we were not going to miss out on a single cultural experience. It was around 10 pm, and when we arrived, they were having a religious service for the deceased. We all sat politely in silence, listening to a Christian sermon that was in a language totally foreign to us. We continued to sit politely as people surrounding us began to pray in tongues. But, then out of no where, the music began and we were on our feet again, dragged out into the dancing circle, where we danced until it was time for bed. Oh, bed. 20 of us slept on the concrete floor of what appeared to be a living room with furniture pushed to the side. It made for one HOT and sleepless night, but that is perfectly okay, it gave me reflection time. One thing I have noticed about myself and most of the people I have traveled with is that we go with the flow and we are totally up for any sort of arraignments. I mean, I have slept under a mosquito net on the beach or in a bus station, so a concrete floor next to twenty other bodies was a piece of cake and I would do it all over again. I am beginning to believe that I can handle most any form of travel at this point, and look forward to challenging myself even more.
Okay, so day two. After waking up, eating some bread, and getting into our red and black get-up (the actual day of the funeral required you to ware such colors), we were of to visit Johnson's senior sister. Brace yourself, don't get to jealous, Johnson's senior sister is a high priestess. Yes, a high priestess. So, now my life is content. I have been to Africa and I have met a high priestess. The whole visit was fascinating and I wish I had listened better and asked more question, but there was just such a big group of us for Anthro Ali. We entered from the side, because otherwise we would have to remove our shoes passing through the front by the compounds resident Deity. We sat in a half circle facing the high priestess and what I assume were lower priestesses. We watched her eagerly as she began to pray and pour libations to the earth. My favorite moment of the visit was when someones phone began to ring during her prayers, all of us looking around wondering who was not considerate enough to turn their phone on silent for the occasion, only to realize that it was the high priestess's phone. I feel like I could write a book about the moment in time. This high priestess in a small town in Ghana had a cell phone, and thus a reason for ownership of such a phone.Talk about globalization. After she finished on the phone, she passed around shots of gin for us to give libations. Of course I could not refuse, it would be culturally offensive. This time, it hit me pretty strongly and when Johnson announced that it was time to head off to the funeral, I was paranoid that I would be stumbling around drunk at a funeral, in Ghana! Don't worry, with this kind of heat, I sweat it out just in time for the funeral. I loved the contradiction I experienced within the same hour. We went from witnessing a "traditional" religious practice to a Christian ceremony. It is so fascinating that the two coexist like they do within Dzodze. Also, traditional considerations never seem to be abandoned at the Christian celebrations, considering everyone was still dressed in traditional Ghanaian attire. It was just so fascinating bouncing form one form of celebration to the next. AT this particular ceremony, the preacher turned to us and thanked his "white brothers and sisters" for being there to celebrate with the community. I really appreciated that moment, feeling so welcomed yet again. After the preaching and prayers concluded, we followed the precession from the courtyard, to the compound of the family of the deceased, on to the burial site. I hope you don't get the wrong impression of my description, it was not all enjoyment for me, this was a legitimate funeral, and that really hit home as I watched them pushing dirt over the casket. I was sad, but it made sense. Those who needed to weep, wept. And those who needed to celebrate, celebrated. I felt very fortunate that I could be along for the ride and included for a weekend in this towns life.
Before we departed, Johnson had us stop by his senior brothers compound, where we had to offer his brother gifts, of beer and more gin. So, we had more, in the name of culture of course, before we hit the road. As I was leaving, Johnson's brother, who had to be in his 60s at least asked if we could be pen pals. So, now my life is really really complete, I can be pen pals with an sweet old man from Dzodze.
Have I mentioned my drumming instructor? Well, if not, here I go. I adore the man. He is a musical genius, according to me, who didn't even know I was capable of liking, much less ever playing any sort of instrument. Now, don't misinterpret me, I am no Ringo when it comes to the drums and I have no rhythm, but hey, I love hearing the drums, playing them and watching others play them. And Johnson, my teacher, is both an amazing drummer and an amazing teacher. Tim, if you were not so convinced that you will die of malaria when visiting Africa, the music here would be worth the trip! Well, anyways, Johnson organized a trip for the students in his drumming class to go with him to his village, Dzodze, in the Volta region for the weekend to attend a funeral. Yes, a funeral. Of course, all I thought when funerals come to mind, was lots of black, awkward small talk with distant relatives and basically an all around somber affair. Well, I was very mistaken.
We left Friday morning for Dzodze, and the drive was amazing. I had never been to this region of Ghana, the Eastern region. We passed over the Volta River, right along the coast, near a popular destination of Ada, where I am heading this upcoming weekend. Then, later we drove through Keta, which is this small coastal town that has the Atlantic ocean on one side, and this MASSIVE lagoon on the other side. It was literally a strip of land, that according to my guidebook, is slowly eroding away, considering it's below sea level. The book mentioned that one day, that strip of land may no longer be there. I guess you could call it the Venice of Africa? The views were amazing. However, not so amazing was the road. It was an "I hope I can walk after this" moment, as the roads were unpaved and scattered with pot-holes the size of Utah. We survived of course and arrived in Dzodze, which was only about 20 minutes from the boarder of Togo.
After getting out of the car and stretching, I heard giggles from above. Looking up, there were a couple of kids hanging out of a tree watching me. That's how I was greeted. No one yelling "oburoni," just people happy to see us there, a trend that I felt lasted the whole weekend. I didn't feel like a tourist or an outsider, just a welcomed guest. Johnson had made arrangements for us to stay with his junior sister (his youngest sister). However, before we settled in, he had us lined up on some benches, so he could properly welcome us...with libations. Libations. according to Johnson, is giving thanks to God for, well, anything, like for a safe journey. Thus, he passed around a shot glass and we all took a swig of a local liquor, dumping some on the ground for praise. What a way to start off the day, with gin shots.
After a lunch/dinner of banku and very chemically flavored water, we headed off to the first rounds of celebration. We walked up to the main road where people dressed in red and black were parading through the streets. Some of them were wailing and others were rejoicing, an ever present antithesis. We followed behind the procession, behind the last taxi. I noticed that the person sitting between two younger men was all cloaked in traditional fabrics. I asked Johnson who that person was, and he simply replied "that's the dead body, that why we are here." SO, yeah, dead body, wrapped in the back of a taxi. Needless to say, ever the anthropologist, I was very curious how the rest of the weekend would pan out.
The precession ended where the music began. Dozens upon dozens were crowded into a courtyard in the town. I was instantly overwhelmed because this was unlike any funeral I have ever been to. When I think of funerals in the US, instantly I imagine a crowded rooms, with people all dressed in black, somber and forced to make painful small talk with long lost relatives and friends. In Dzodze, the funeral was a community affair. Appropriately, the family was sitting of to the side, mourning, and when I say mourning I mean wailing. I thought I would not be able to sleep after seeing and hearing the cries of one woman in particular, you would have thought she was being brutally murdered. On the other hand, those outside the family were congregated in the center and having a good old fashioned dance party. We were standing on the outside, trying to take everything in and understand our purpose at the funeral, because obviously we were totally out of place. And then, one older, somewhat crazy, woman grabbed each one of us and dragged us into the crowd to join in on the dancing. So it my function became apparent, I was to celebrate, and celebrate I did. After a bit of dancing, and watching them carry the body into it's temporary resting place, we returned to Johnson's sisters compound to rest up. Of course, considering that we are a drumming class, Johnson gathered drums from all around, and we sat in the pitch black and began a drumming circle.
Later, way past my bed time and after many went to sleep, Johnson energetically retrieved us all and informed us that we must return to the celebration. Although exhausted, we were not going to miss out on a single cultural experience. It was around 10 pm, and when we arrived, they were having a religious service for the deceased. We all sat politely in silence, listening to a Christian sermon that was in a language totally foreign to us. We continued to sit politely as people surrounding us began to pray in tongues. But, then out of no where, the music began and we were on our feet again, dragged out into the dancing circle, where we danced until it was time for bed. Oh, bed. 20 of us slept on the concrete floor of what appeared to be a living room with furniture pushed to the side. It made for one HOT and sleepless night, but that is perfectly okay, it gave me reflection time. One thing I have noticed about myself and most of the people I have traveled with is that we go with the flow and we are totally up for any sort of arraignments. I mean, I have slept under a mosquito net on the beach or in a bus station, so a concrete floor next to twenty other bodies was a piece of cake and I would do it all over again. I am beginning to believe that I can handle most any form of travel at this point, and look forward to challenging myself even more.
Okay, so day two. After waking up, eating some bread, and getting into our red and black get-up (the actual day of the funeral required you to ware such colors), we were of to visit Johnson's senior sister. Brace yourself, don't get to jealous, Johnson's senior sister is a high priestess. Yes, a high priestess. So, now my life is content. I have been to Africa and I have met a high priestess. The whole visit was fascinating and I wish I had listened better and asked more question, but there was just such a big group of us for Anthro Ali. We entered from the side, because otherwise we would have to remove our shoes passing through the front by the compounds resident Deity. We sat in a half circle facing the high priestess and what I assume were lower priestesses. We watched her eagerly as she began to pray and pour libations to the earth. My favorite moment of the visit was when someones phone began to ring during her prayers, all of us looking around wondering who was not considerate enough to turn their phone on silent for the occasion, only to realize that it was the high priestess's phone. I feel like I could write a book about the moment in time. This high priestess in a small town in Ghana had a cell phone, and thus a reason for ownership of such a phone.Talk about globalization. After she finished on the phone, she passed around shots of gin for us to give libations. Of course I could not refuse, it would be culturally offensive. This time, it hit me pretty strongly and when Johnson announced that it was time to head off to the funeral, I was paranoid that I would be stumbling around drunk at a funeral, in Ghana! Don't worry, with this kind of heat, I sweat it out just in time for the funeral. I loved the contradiction I experienced within the same hour. We went from witnessing a "traditional" religious practice to a Christian ceremony. It is so fascinating that the two coexist like they do within Dzodze. Also, traditional considerations never seem to be abandoned at the Christian celebrations, considering everyone was still dressed in traditional Ghanaian attire. It was just so fascinating bouncing form one form of celebration to the next. AT this particular ceremony, the preacher turned to us and thanked his "white brothers and sisters" for being there to celebrate with the community. I really appreciated that moment, feeling so welcomed yet again. After the preaching and prayers concluded, we followed the precession from the courtyard, to the compound of the family of the deceased, on to the burial site. I hope you don't get the wrong impression of my description, it was not all enjoyment for me, this was a legitimate funeral, and that really hit home as I watched them pushing dirt over the casket. I was sad, but it made sense. Those who needed to weep, wept. And those who needed to celebrate, celebrated. I felt very fortunate that I could be along for the ride and included for a weekend in this towns life.
Before we departed, Johnson had us stop by his senior brothers compound, where we had to offer his brother gifts, of beer and more gin. So, we had more, in the name of culture of course, before we hit the road. As I was leaving, Johnson's brother, who had to be in his 60s at least asked if we could be pen pals. So, now my life is really really complete, I can be pen pals with an sweet old man from Dzodze.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Auntie Alexandra
See Auntie Alexandra. See Auntie Alexandra dance. Dance Auntie Alexandra. See Auntie Alexandra play the drum. Play the drum Auntie Alexandra. Hear Auntie Alexandra speak Twi. Speak Twi Auntie Alexandra. See Auntie Alexandra dance. Dance Auntie Alexandra. See Auntie Alexandra play the drum. Play the drum Auntie Alexandra. Hear Auntie Alexandra speak Twi. Speak Twi Auntie Alexandra. See Auntie Alexandra dance. Dance Auntie Alexandra. See Auntie Alexandra play the drum. Play the drum Auntie Alexandra. Hear Auntie Alexandra speak Twi. Speak Twi Auntie Alexandra.
I began to realize that I really only fill in the blanks after I have returned from some adventure from outside Accra. Yes, I have now been to lush beaches and crazy safaris, but the adventure I am having right here at home, well Accra, is just as deserving of a blog post.
I have just come from my second Wednesday volunteering at the University Primary school, in class 1U, with about 45 little first graders. Does it show? According to these 45 little faces, on Wednesdays I am known as Auntie Alexandra. That was how I was introduced by Ruby, the 1st grade teacher who graciously took me under her wing and refuses to tell me her last name. Thus, from now until I return, I will be referred to as Auntie Alexandra, thank you very much. I cannot wait until next Wednesday. I did not realize how accustomed I have become to having children around me. I always have a long list of babysitting clientele or I am filling in at my Mom's daycare. I have been feeling some sort of hole in my experience here since I have not had much interaction with children. Well, I have filled that hole now. I only have a few hours to spend with them, unfortunately, but they are precious. The first day I showed up, all nervous like I was on a job interview, Ruby thrusted me into the spot light. She wanted me to simply take over the class and teach a lesson. Obviously, I had no idea what was going on and chickened out completely. Rather, I circled the classroom, meeting the children, helping them with their English assignments,and slyly ignoring the giggles that surfaced when my accent was not clear. During their lunch break, I was surrounded by a mob of children. You would have thought I was Santa Clause! The children were giving me lessons in Twi, and well making fun of me, a common theme for me around children in Ghana for some reason. Unfortunately, my experience at the primary school is not a perfect one, and I have been losing much sleep fretting over the way some of the children are treated. I was lucky in elementary school, when I got out of my seat unannounced or was caught talking in class, I surly was not beaten. Ruby explained to me that she does not like using the switch, but it is necessarily. She was nothing compared to the visiting Twi teacher, he would beat the crap out of a student after shouting out threatening warnings, unlike anything I would ever imagine would be remotely acceptable in front of any child. I want to let all that are reading this entry know that I am not sharing this for you to judge. That is a fear that has caused me to hold back so many of my daily experiences. Life is different here, and because all I can expose you to is through my words, I feel like there is a lot left to misinterpretation. The way children are mistreated here is a reality. It sucks. And I have no idea what I could possibly do to alter that. The children at the primary school are receiving a very valuable education, but I feel for them as they are being exposed to violence in the classroom. I understand there are various forms of discipline, and maybe certain methods work differently from place to place, but I cannot become accustomed to that which is used at the primary school. Regardless, I will not stop showing up, because I have so much to learn from these children. Just today, I had to give a "lesson," and of course having nothing prepared, I just asked and answered a million questions. Where are you from? What's your favorite food? What's your favorite hobby? Then I had the children draw pictures to answer this question. So now I have 45 drawings of kids playing football, or jump roping, or eating fufu. I feel very fortunate to have the time to get to know some of the children of Ghana, they may be one of my best windows into the country that is still vastly unfamiliar to me.
I began to realize that I really only fill in the blanks after I have returned from some adventure from outside Accra. Yes, I have now been to lush beaches and crazy safaris, but the adventure I am having right here at home, well Accra, is just as deserving of a blog post.
I have just come from my second Wednesday volunteering at the University Primary school, in class 1U, with about 45 little first graders. Does it show? According to these 45 little faces, on Wednesdays I am known as Auntie Alexandra. That was how I was introduced by Ruby, the 1st grade teacher who graciously took me under her wing and refuses to tell me her last name. Thus, from now until I return, I will be referred to as Auntie Alexandra, thank you very much. I cannot wait until next Wednesday. I did not realize how accustomed I have become to having children around me. I always have a long list of babysitting clientele or I am filling in at my Mom's daycare. I have been feeling some sort of hole in my experience here since I have not had much interaction with children. Well, I have filled that hole now. I only have a few hours to spend with them, unfortunately, but they are precious. The first day I showed up, all nervous like I was on a job interview, Ruby thrusted me into the spot light. She wanted me to simply take over the class and teach a lesson. Obviously, I had no idea what was going on and chickened out completely. Rather, I circled the classroom, meeting the children, helping them with their English assignments,and slyly ignoring the giggles that surfaced when my accent was not clear. During their lunch break, I was surrounded by a mob of children. You would have thought I was Santa Clause! The children were giving me lessons in Twi, and well making fun of me, a common theme for me around children in Ghana for some reason. Unfortunately, my experience at the primary school is not a perfect one, and I have been losing much sleep fretting over the way some of the children are treated. I was lucky in elementary school, when I got out of my seat unannounced or was caught talking in class, I surly was not beaten. Ruby explained to me that she does not like using the switch, but it is necessarily. She was nothing compared to the visiting Twi teacher, he would beat the crap out of a student after shouting out threatening warnings, unlike anything I would ever imagine would be remotely acceptable in front of any child. I want to let all that are reading this entry know that I am not sharing this for you to judge. That is a fear that has caused me to hold back so many of my daily experiences. Life is different here, and because all I can expose you to is through my words, I feel like there is a lot left to misinterpretation. The way children are mistreated here is a reality. It sucks. And I have no idea what I could possibly do to alter that. The children at the primary school are receiving a very valuable education, but I feel for them as they are being exposed to violence in the classroom. I understand there are various forms of discipline, and maybe certain methods work differently from place to place, but I cannot become accustomed to that which is used at the primary school. Regardless, I will not stop showing up, because I have so much to learn from these children. Just today, I had to give a "lesson," and of course having nothing prepared, I just asked and answered a million questions. Where are you from? What's your favorite food? What's your favorite hobby? Then I had the children draw pictures to answer this question. So now I have 45 drawings of kids playing football, or jump roping, or eating fufu. I feel very fortunate to have the time to get to know some of the children of Ghana, they may be one of my best windows into the country that is still vastly unfamiliar to me.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Easter with Elephants
I remember when I was little, and when I say little I mean all the way up to last year, I would rise at dawn to survey the house in attempt to find the Easter eggs my parents hid before my brothers. Of course once we found them, we would gorge ourselves on chocolate, fight over who had the biggest chocolate bunny, and then be dragged off to church for more celebration followed by a grand Easter brunch. This was the Easter that is familiar to me, the Easter that gives me the fuzzy feelings inside of home. This Easter was one for the record books, and adventure to say the least. To give you a short snap shot, for comparison of course, this Easter I spent my nights in a Muslim village in Northern Ghana, sleeping on the roof under the stars, going on safari's during the day, and hanging out with ELEPHANTS!
So, I believe I should accept the fact, whether it is here or back home in the US, no matter what trip I may take, it always HAS TO get off to a rocky start. I don't know what it is about traveling, but there is no such thing as a smooth start. Oh well, every experience here has turned out to be amazing, so I guess I should not complain. BUT, is it to much to ask for everything to just work out??
The seven of us who were to make the trek up to Mole National Park, which is some 16 to 20 hours from Accra, agreed to depart at 5:45 am. I set three alarms, my phone, my watch and my travel alarm and somehow I still managed to sleep through them. I got a knock on the door at 6:20 from Katie telling my that my group was waiting for me at the bottom of campus (like a mile away). So I jump up, have a panic attack, throw on some clothes, grab my stuff, and RUN out the door. I literally sprinted all the way down to the bottom of campus! As I was running, I had concerned Ghanaians shouting at me "Slow down," "Relax!" One thing to remember, is that Ghanaians are slow, they take there time wherever they are going! In fact, I have been told that the way they can tell we are American, is because we walk so fast wherever we go. Anyways, so I made it down in record time, met my very patient friends, made our way via taxi to the STC bus station, and of course waited for our DELAYED bus. All that rushing for nothing. AND on top of everything, (deep breath, let me write this without tears) my camera broke on my run down! Of course my camera would break before my trip to the North, where I would be going on safaris and seeing all kinds of animals! Eh, life goes on, but pictures from the weekend may take a while to reach you because I have to collect them from all the people I bugged to take pictures of me all weekend.
The bus ride from Accra to Tamale was LONG, but the relentless picture taking of people sleeping kept us entertained for some parts, as well as my I-pod (thanks again Mom and Dad for not listening to me when I said I didn't want one.) We departed at around 9 am and did not arrive until after 10pm. Because we would have to catch the bus to Larabunga (again can't spell without the guide book!) at 4am, we decided it was pointless to get a hotel for just a few hours. Now, Julie, I know I am going to get a scary email from you lecturing me on how to be safe because I am in Africa and doing something stupid is just going to get me killed. I'll save you the trouble because yes, sleeping in a bus station in Africa is probably on that list, but I survived, and will kick my own butt for doing it. So yeah, we slept on benches in the open air bus station. I remember thinking I would not fall asleep considering the blasting music and people drinking in the station, but somehow I dosed off, clenching my purse and back pack. I woke up once in the night to a man just standing in front of me watching me sleep, and others laughing at us because we were sleeping in a freaking bus station like the homeless. Needless to say, we did not get much sleep, but were up looking for the other bus station by 4am. Our next bus was to take us to Larabunga, about four hours aways from Tamale. This bus was much less "luxurious," and my butt is still recovering from that bumpy ride. While scrambling in the morning, looking for tickets to Larabunga and getting totally conflicting information, we ran into a fellow traveler, Dylan, who helped lead us in the right direction. Another theme I have recognized traveling in Ghana, is somehow, magically, you figure your way around, or find someone to do it for you. We got to Larabunga around 10 am, where we were greeted by Al Hassan, from the Salia's Brothers Guest House, whom I had called about 10 times the previous few days. I feel like I could write a book about Larabunga and the Salia Brothers, because the village and the twin brothers were fascinating.The village, which is only 6km from Mole National Park, has the oldest mosque in Ghana. I found it quite ironic that I was spending Easter weekend in one of the most Muslim villages in Ghana. Larabunga was just full of life. From the second we got off the bus, we were surrounded by tuns of children. Al Hassan personally came and got us from the bus stop and lead us back to his house, a little compound with extra rooms for travelers. He took the time to welcome us, introduce us to the town, and make arrangements from transportation to Mole, which was a bit of a rip off, but we quickly forgave him once we realized how much he and his brother help their community. We dropped our stuff off in a room, however, we had no intention of sleeping in this room. Our aim was to sleep on the roofs, because the heat would have been suffocating with the seven of us in one room with one bed. Let me remind you, that we had been up since 3:30 am and had slept in a bus station, so needless to say we were a little tired. But we pushed through it and spent the day at Mole, just a car ride away. I was so taken back by the vastness of Mole. I guess I am used to the crowded streets of Accra, so when I saw trees for miles and miles I was thrown off. Not to mention real, live animals! The greatest surprise that greeted us that morning were waiting for us at the base of the Mole Motel. Elephants! They were bathing in the watering hole that is conveniently beneath the Motel, escaping the hot sun. Similarly we went to our watering hole, spending time in the pool, waiting for three in the afternoon to role around so that we could take our first safari. I opted not for the pool, because I still have no bathing suit, but spent my time watching the elephants splash about and stuffing myself with omo tuo (totally spelled that wrong), which is rice balls in ground-nut soup. When we were ready to depart for our afternoon safari, the man who was "helping" us arrange the trip showed his true colors, and attempted to royally rip is off, trying to charge our group that morphed into nine, with the addition of the fellow traveler Allison and Dylan we met along the way, a ridiculous rate. However, such practices have become common in such tourist locations, and there was no chance we were going to miss out on our safari. So after long arguments, we were off, and guess where I was sitting. Yeah, the roof! And not just on the roof of the car, but on the wheel on top of the roof of the car, making every little bump we passed over, a possibly life-ending possibility. Because I was so elevated, every time the driver turned or went over a bump, I would be launched forward, over the edge, if it were not for my death grip on the side of the car. Although I had many moments of doubt questioning whether or not I was to die, I quickly realized there is just no other way to do it, I saw everything. I had the best views, and the wind rushing in my face was so liberating. I had one of those moments up there, where it just randomly dawned on me that I was in Africa. You would think I would recognize that more often, but those little moments bring such waves of emotions, joy in particular that a dream was coming true. So we're driving along, seeing baboons and antelope roaming about, and then the car comes to a halt (almost launching me of course). ELEPHANT! It was right next to the car, feeding from the tree tops, paying no real attention to us. We all scrambled down to the bottom, with the guide with a gun of course, and inched our way closer to have a little photo shoot (minus me, broken camera). I literally remember squealing I was so excited, and so in aww. They are such massive, majestic animals, they seem otherworldly almost. In case you have not already realized, I love elephants, they are by far my favorite animal, and among my friends (llama, Emu, Camel, Vulture, Baboon, Koala) it is my animal name. So yes, I was pretty much on cloud nine, getting to see elephants in their natural environment, especially because most people at Mole only spot them in the morning near the watering hole, so we were extremely fortunate. And our luck didn't end there, we spotted three other elephants, warthogs (yes Pumba), many kinds of antelope, crocodile and BABOONS! They were crazy and not to happy to see us. At one point we ran into a family of baboons, and I was half-expecting the car to be charged and torn to shreds judging by the way they greeted us. So yes, car safari, major plus. Of course following, we were exhausted and hungry, and excited for our second safari scheduled the next morning for 7:30 am, this one on foot.
We returned in the evening to Larabunga and the Salia's Brother's Guest House. We spent time in the court yard of the house with Al Hassan and his crazy children, who were running around us, screaming and playing. All the while we were watching the sky, because the most spectacular lightning storm had engulfed us all. The sky seemed alive, and massive purple bolts danced all around us. Of course, we were still determined to sleep on the roof. We laid there for a few hours, under the crazy sky. Al came up to check on us, he was so worried that our time would be ruined because of the rain that may come. He sat next to me and proclaimed, "This just is to remind us that no man can control nature." Of course in reply is stated "neither can woman." He then proceeded to laugh uncontrollably, slap me on the back shouting "I like you," and then very seriously came to the conclusion that "Okay, no HUMAN can control nature." I recount this little convo for you, because just that moment, sitting on the roof, under the violent sky, in a Muslim village in the north with AL was so special, and I will truly cherish our little understanding forever. Just for a moment we seemed deeply connected, and the differences of our lives faded away as we came to a common understanding and appreciation of the world around us. Wow, I am getting a little carried away, but that's just me, so deal. Needless to say, right after I dosed off, I was awoken by something wet covering my body, and in a split second, I realized that the sky was falling! No, just rain, pouring rain. We rushed down with our mattresses, down to the little room, where we huddled together, four on this little bed, the rest in another room. The rain was so loud under the tin roof, but luckily we did not have the leak that the other room of sleepers got to enjoy.
So another adventurous, yet sleepless night. First a bus station, then a rainy rooftop. But I was awoken around 4:30am by the call to prayer from the mosque just a hop-skip and a jump down the road and departed by 6:30.....on BIKE! I was so excited to be on a bike again, it reminded me of Davis and the favored mode of transportation. I was totally in my element, free as a bird on my bike, and then %#$%@&! My peddle came flying off, and the next thing I know, bitter and angry me was walking the 6km to Mole. Well, my friends had to deal with "bad mood" Ali for a while, but I snapped out of it, ready for our foot safari at 7:30am. BUT, once again, as predictable as predictable can be, the guides had not been arranged, and we were stuck safari-less until 10am. It would not be such a big deal, however, we feared that the elephants may have already evacuated the watering hole, which they often do. Well, thing ended well for we convinced our guide to take us straight to the watering hole, skipping the two hour walk to it, where we may have seen some other wildlife. Now this experience was just as mind blowing! We were just feet away from about six elephants, relaxing in the water, splashing about. Again, they are just such beautiful animals, and seeing them in their natural environment rather than behind the walls at the San Diego Zoo was just spectacular. So we spent time there, taking pictures and exchanging little squeals of joy every time they would even move. AND then as we circled to the other side, our favorite elephant, whom I named Frank Sinatra, departed from the watering hole to the shore, within like 20 feet of us. He proceeded to shower himself with mud, only noticing us once, causing the guide to clench his gun in anticipation of a charge. I got some amazing photos, well I mean Jessica got some amazing photos. The elephant almost looks fake in the pictures because he is so close to us in the background. So, eventually we had to be dragged away, and I left with such a content feeling. See the thing is, before I left here to Ghana, I found this list I must have written when I was like ten. It was a list of things I wanted to do in my life time, yes the original bucket list thank you very much Jack Nicholson. What is so crazy is that so many things from that list have been accomplished on this trip, like "go to Africa, touch a crocodile, go on a safari and see elephants." So, walking away, I was content, content that another goal has been accomplished, only a couple thousand to go, no biggy.
We spent more time in the pool, where I gave in and just went in in my undergarments, how lady like, right? Well don't judge, it was probably one of the hottest days of my life, so I would have gone in naked if it had come to that. Before dusk, we all returned to Larabunga, me with Al Hassan, and the others on bike, or foot because more bikes broke down. In Larabunga, we walked around the town and were swarmed by people, curious what we were doing, where we were from and if we would be their friends. As I lay on the roof this night, in dreadful anticipation of being up at 3 in the morning again to catch the bus home, it set in that it was Easter Sunday, and I had spent it in Ghana, on a safari and now under the star in this lovely little village. What a trip!
Well, that's pretty much it, minus the insane morning we had. Al Hassan insisted that he help us get transportation the next day, so that we could be saved the trip all the way back to Tamale, and go straight to Kumasi. He ended up having to brawl with the bus driver because it was full, leaving us stranded in Larabunga. I felt very guilty because he basically got us on, cutting dozens other Ghanaians that were waiting for a ticket. The trip was amazing, and then I had to depart with such a feeling of shame. However, when I voiced this to Al Hassan, he simply reassured me that if they had the opportunity, they would have done the same to me. This didn't really make me feel better, but at least it was something. We ended up taking a tro-tro to Kumasi, which was a whole experience in and of itself, leaving Alicia with horrible bruises because we were being so tossed about. From Kumasi we caught a STC bus, where none of us slept, all alert and talkative after our whirlwind weekend. It was hard coming back from such an experience, and jumping back into school the next day at 8am, but hey, that's life.
So, I believe I should accept the fact, whether it is here or back home in the US, no matter what trip I may take, it always HAS TO get off to a rocky start. I don't know what it is about traveling, but there is no such thing as a smooth start. Oh well, every experience here has turned out to be amazing, so I guess I should not complain. BUT, is it to much to ask for everything to just work out??
The seven of us who were to make the trek up to Mole National Park, which is some 16 to 20 hours from Accra, agreed to depart at 5:45 am. I set three alarms, my phone, my watch and my travel alarm and somehow I still managed to sleep through them. I got a knock on the door at 6:20 from Katie telling my that my group was waiting for me at the bottom of campus (like a mile away). So I jump up, have a panic attack, throw on some clothes, grab my stuff, and RUN out the door. I literally sprinted all the way down to the bottom of campus! As I was running, I had concerned Ghanaians shouting at me "Slow down," "Relax!" One thing to remember, is that Ghanaians are slow, they take there time wherever they are going! In fact, I have been told that the way they can tell we are American, is because we walk so fast wherever we go. Anyways, so I made it down in record time, met my very patient friends, made our way via taxi to the STC bus station, and of course waited for our DELAYED bus. All that rushing for nothing. AND on top of everything, (deep breath, let me write this without tears) my camera broke on my run down! Of course my camera would break before my trip to the North, where I would be going on safaris and seeing all kinds of animals! Eh, life goes on, but pictures from the weekend may take a while to reach you because I have to collect them from all the people I bugged to take pictures of me all weekend.
The bus ride from Accra to Tamale was LONG, but the relentless picture taking of people sleeping kept us entertained for some parts, as well as my I-pod (thanks again Mom and Dad for not listening to me when I said I didn't want one.) We departed at around 9 am and did not arrive until after 10pm. Because we would have to catch the bus to Larabunga (again can't spell without the guide book!) at 4am, we decided it was pointless to get a hotel for just a few hours. Now, Julie, I know I am going to get a scary email from you lecturing me on how to be safe because I am in Africa and doing something stupid is just going to get me killed. I'll save you the trouble because yes, sleeping in a bus station in Africa is probably on that list, but I survived, and will kick my own butt for doing it. So yeah, we slept on benches in the open air bus station. I remember thinking I would not fall asleep considering the blasting music and people drinking in the station, but somehow I dosed off, clenching my purse and back pack. I woke up once in the night to a man just standing in front of me watching me sleep, and others laughing at us because we were sleeping in a freaking bus station like the homeless. Needless to say, we did not get much sleep, but were up looking for the other bus station by 4am. Our next bus was to take us to Larabunga, about four hours aways from Tamale. This bus was much less "luxurious," and my butt is still recovering from that bumpy ride. While scrambling in the morning, looking for tickets to Larabunga and getting totally conflicting information, we ran into a fellow traveler, Dylan, who helped lead us in the right direction. Another theme I have recognized traveling in Ghana, is somehow, magically, you figure your way around, or find someone to do it for you. We got to Larabunga around 10 am, where we were greeted by Al Hassan, from the Salia's Brothers Guest House, whom I had called about 10 times the previous few days. I feel like I could write a book about Larabunga and the Salia Brothers, because the village and the twin brothers were fascinating.The village, which is only 6km from Mole National Park, has the oldest mosque in Ghana. I found it quite ironic that I was spending Easter weekend in one of the most Muslim villages in Ghana. Larabunga was just full of life. From the second we got off the bus, we were surrounded by tuns of children. Al Hassan personally came and got us from the bus stop and lead us back to his house, a little compound with extra rooms for travelers. He took the time to welcome us, introduce us to the town, and make arrangements from transportation to Mole, which was a bit of a rip off, but we quickly forgave him once we realized how much he and his brother help their community. We dropped our stuff off in a room, however, we had no intention of sleeping in this room. Our aim was to sleep on the roofs, because the heat would have been suffocating with the seven of us in one room with one bed. Let me remind you, that we had been up since 3:30 am and had slept in a bus station, so needless to say we were a little tired. But we pushed through it and spent the day at Mole, just a car ride away. I was so taken back by the vastness of Mole. I guess I am used to the crowded streets of Accra, so when I saw trees for miles and miles I was thrown off. Not to mention real, live animals! The greatest surprise that greeted us that morning were waiting for us at the base of the Mole Motel. Elephants! They were bathing in the watering hole that is conveniently beneath the Motel, escaping the hot sun. Similarly we went to our watering hole, spending time in the pool, waiting for three in the afternoon to role around so that we could take our first safari. I opted not for the pool, because I still have no bathing suit, but spent my time watching the elephants splash about and stuffing myself with omo tuo (totally spelled that wrong), which is rice balls in ground-nut soup. When we were ready to depart for our afternoon safari, the man who was "helping" us arrange the trip showed his true colors, and attempted to royally rip is off, trying to charge our group that morphed into nine, with the addition of the fellow traveler Allison and Dylan we met along the way, a ridiculous rate. However, such practices have become common in such tourist locations, and there was no chance we were going to miss out on our safari. So after long arguments, we were off, and guess where I was sitting. Yeah, the roof! And not just on the roof of the car, but on the wheel on top of the roof of the car, making every little bump we passed over, a possibly life-ending possibility. Because I was so elevated, every time the driver turned or went over a bump, I would be launched forward, over the edge, if it were not for my death grip on the side of the car. Although I had many moments of doubt questioning whether or not I was to die, I quickly realized there is just no other way to do it, I saw everything. I had the best views, and the wind rushing in my face was so liberating. I had one of those moments up there, where it just randomly dawned on me that I was in Africa. You would think I would recognize that more often, but those little moments bring such waves of emotions, joy in particular that a dream was coming true. So we're driving along, seeing baboons and antelope roaming about, and then the car comes to a halt (almost launching me of course). ELEPHANT! It was right next to the car, feeding from the tree tops, paying no real attention to us. We all scrambled down to the bottom, with the guide with a gun of course, and inched our way closer to have a little photo shoot (minus me, broken camera). I literally remember squealing I was so excited, and so in aww. They are such massive, majestic animals, they seem otherworldly almost. In case you have not already realized, I love elephants, they are by far my favorite animal, and among my friends (llama, Emu, Camel, Vulture, Baboon, Koala) it is my animal name. So yes, I was pretty much on cloud nine, getting to see elephants in their natural environment, especially because most people at Mole only spot them in the morning near the watering hole, so we were extremely fortunate. And our luck didn't end there, we spotted three other elephants, warthogs (yes Pumba), many kinds of antelope, crocodile and BABOONS! They were crazy and not to happy to see us. At one point we ran into a family of baboons, and I was half-expecting the car to be charged and torn to shreds judging by the way they greeted us. So yes, car safari, major plus. Of course following, we were exhausted and hungry, and excited for our second safari scheduled the next morning for 7:30 am, this one on foot.
We returned in the evening to Larabunga and the Salia's Brother's Guest House. We spent time in the court yard of the house with Al Hassan and his crazy children, who were running around us, screaming and playing. All the while we were watching the sky, because the most spectacular lightning storm had engulfed us all. The sky seemed alive, and massive purple bolts danced all around us. Of course, we were still determined to sleep on the roof. We laid there for a few hours, under the crazy sky. Al came up to check on us, he was so worried that our time would be ruined because of the rain that may come. He sat next to me and proclaimed, "This just is to remind us that no man can control nature." Of course in reply is stated "neither can woman." He then proceeded to laugh uncontrollably, slap me on the back shouting "I like you," and then very seriously came to the conclusion that "Okay, no HUMAN can control nature." I recount this little convo for you, because just that moment, sitting on the roof, under the violent sky, in a Muslim village in the north with AL was so special, and I will truly cherish our little understanding forever. Just for a moment we seemed deeply connected, and the differences of our lives faded away as we came to a common understanding and appreciation of the world around us. Wow, I am getting a little carried away, but that's just me, so deal. Needless to say, right after I dosed off, I was awoken by something wet covering my body, and in a split second, I realized that the sky was falling! No, just rain, pouring rain. We rushed down with our mattresses, down to the little room, where we huddled together, four on this little bed, the rest in another room. The rain was so loud under the tin roof, but luckily we did not have the leak that the other room of sleepers got to enjoy.
So another adventurous, yet sleepless night. First a bus station, then a rainy rooftop. But I was awoken around 4:30am by the call to prayer from the mosque just a hop-skip and a jump down the road and departed by 6:30.....on BIKE! I was so excited to be on a bike again, it reminded me of Davis and the favored mode of transportation. I was totally in my element, free as a bird on my bike, and then %#$%@&! My peddle came flying off, and the next thing I know, bitter and angry me was walking the 6km to Mole. Well, my friends had to deal with "bad mood" Ali for a while, but I snapped out of it, ready for our foot safari at 7:30am. BUT, once again, as predictable as predictable can be, the guides had not been arranged, and we were stuck safari-less until 10am. It would not be such a big deal, however, we feared that the elephants may have already evacuated the watering hole, which they often do. Well, thing ended well for we convinced our guide to take us straight to the watering hole, skipping the two hour walk to it, where we may have seen some other wildlife. Now this experience was just as mind blowing! We were just feet away from about six elephants, relaxing in the water, splashing about. Again, they are just such beautiful animals, and seeing them in their natural environment rather than behind the walls at the San Diego Zoo was just spectacular. So we spent time there, taking pictures and exchanging little squeals of joy every time they would even move. AND then as we circled to the other side, our favorite elephant, whom I named Frank Sinatra, departed from the watering hole to the shore, within like 20 feet of us. He proceeded to shower himself with mud, only noticing us once, causing the guide to clench his gun in anticipation of a charge. I got some amazing photos, well I mean Jessica got some amazing photos. The elephant almost looks fake in the pictures because he is so close to us in the background. So, eventually we had to be dragged away, and I left with such a content feeling. See the thing is, before I left here to Ghana, I found this list I must have written when I was like ten. It was a list of things I wanted to do in my life time, yes the original bucket list thank you very much Jack Nicholson. What is so crazy is that so many things from that list have been accomplished on this trip, like "go to Africa, touch a crocodile, go on a safari and see elephants." So, walking away, I was content, content that another goal has been accomplished, only a couple thousand to go, no biggy.
We spent more time in the pool, where I gave in and just went in in my undergarments, how lady like, right? Well don't judge, it was probably one of the hottest days of my life, so I would have gone in naked if it had come to that. Before dusk, we all returned to Larabunga, me with Al Hassan, and the others on bike, or foot because more bikes broke down. In Larabunga, we walked around the town and were swarmed by people, curious what we were doing, where we were from and if we would be their friends. As I lay on the roof this night, in dreadful anticipation of being up at 3 in the morning again to catch the bus home, it set in that it was Easter Sunday, and I had spent it in Ghana, on a safari and now under the star in this lovely little village. What a trip!
Well, that's pretty much it, minus the insane morning we had. Al Hassan insisted that he help us get transportation the next day, so that we could be saved the trip all the way back to Tamale, and go straight to Kumasi. He ended up having to brawl with the bus driver because it was full, leaving us stranded in Larabunga. I felt very guilty because he basically got us on, cutting dozens other Ghanaians that were waiting for a ticket. The trip was amazing, and then I had to depart with such a feeling of shame. However, when I voiced this to Al Hassan, he simply reassured me that if they had the opportunity, they would have done the same to me. This didn't really make me feel better, but at least it was something. We ended up taking a tro-tro to Kumasi, which was a whole experience in and of itself, leaving Alicia with horrible bruises because we were being so tossed about. From Kumasi we caught a STC bus, where none of us slept, all alert and talkative after our whirlwind weekend. It was hard coming back from such an experience, and jumping back into school the next day at 8am, but hey, that's life.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Green Turtles
I have been scolded more than once by many of you now for not being religiously devoted to my blog, uploading photos and recording ever detail. Forgive me! I'm trying I promise, I just spent about 30 minutes and got a total of two photo's up on my blog. Go Ali. I am now trying to upload them to photobucket.com, and then hopefully attach the link, so hey, at least you have something to look forward to...
This past weekend I took off yet again. I swear I may never really "know" Accra because almost every time the weekend rolls around, I am to antsy to stay around. I guess I got the travel bug BAD. This past weekend Theo, Natalie and I headed out up the West Coast to an Eco-tourist lodge by Busua. (Disclaimer: I always forget to bring the guide book with me to write these little bits, thus, I forget how to spell the places I have been...so some editing may be necessary!) Our bus ride to Takoradi took what felt like forever, thus making our arrival a little later then expected. So...we were kind of stuck, and let me tell you, the taxi drivers new it. Walking up to the first taxi driver, I request a ride to the Green Turtle for three cedi. I have never pissed a taxi driver off so much as in this moment. He thought we were crazy. He demanded 30 cedi, so we figured that was it, we're stuck. Luckily we were able to catch a ride for something much more reasonable, which later made some sense, considering that the car broke down. AH! The drive should have been conducted in some crazy off roading vehicle, but no we were just in a Taxi, coasting across the most painful dirt road. Once we arrived at the Green Turtle, we were informed that the rooms Theo reserved had been given away. Again, theme, we were stranded, and trekking back up the road from hell was not an option. Luckily they had a few tents free for the first night. So safe for a night. The next two we spent on mattresses under mosquito nets, or at least Natalie and I had nets, Theo, being the gentleman, was left to the little buggers. Don't worry though, we made up for it our last night on the beach. We walked a bit up the beach to the swanky Safari Lodge. Does the name say enough? No, it was really fun there. I felt out of place though because it was a really nice hotel and I am studying abroad in Africa, not the kind of accommodations I was expecting. On the other hand, it is funny that I got myself so worked up over it, considering that this really nice hotel only put me back 10 cedi for a night. Well, that's a lie, considering the dinner and drinks we took part in..... Well, I didn't have a proper 21st Birthday, so forgive me.
So activities for the weekend consisted of me reading two books, eating yummy french toast, hiking up and down the beach (sooooo beautiful), collecting shells and getting one step closer to my dream of joining the fishermen out at sea. We walked to a neighboring village up the beach and took a canoe ride through the mangroves. I really enjoyed the experience, but my legs did not. They were as read as the tomatos in my tuna sandwich. Oh well, skin cancer, no biggy, right? Don't worry mother, I have been lathering on the sunscreen since.
The bus ride back was a breeze, other than the sand I found everywhere!
Well, I am off to Northern Ghana this weekend, making my way to Mole National Park, where I'll be seeing elephants and monkeys. Are you jealous?
Ta-Ta for now.
This past weekend I took off yet again. I swear I may never really "know" Accra because almost every time the weekend rolls around, I am to antsy to stay around. I guess I got the travel bug BAD. This past weekend Theo, Natalie and I headed out up the West Coast to an Eco-tourist lodge by Busua. (Disclaimer: I always forget to bring the guide book with me to write these little bits, thus, I forget how to spell the places I have been...so some editing may be necessary!) Our bus ride to Takoradi took what felt like forever, thus making our arrival a little later then expected. So...we were kind of stuck, and let me tell you, the taxi drivers new it. Walking up to the first taxi driver, I request a ride to the Green Turtle for three cedi. I have never pissed a taxi driver off so much as in this moment. He thought we were crazy. He demanded 30 cedi, so we figured that was it, we're stuck. Luckily we were able to catch a ride for something much more reasonable, which later made some sense, considering that the car broke down. AH! The drive should have been conducted in some crazy off roading vehicle, but no we were just in a Taxi, coasting across the most painful dirt road. Once we arrived at the Green Turtle, we were informed that the rooms Theo reserved had been given away. Again, theme, we were stranded, and trekking back up the road from hell was not an option. Luckily they had a few tents free for the first night. So safe for a night. The next two we spent on mattresses under mosquito nets, or at least Natalie and I had nets, Theo, being the gentleman, was left to the little buggers. Don't worry though, we made up for it our last night on the beach. We walked a bit up the beach to the swanky Safari Lodge. Does the name say enough? No, it was really fun there. I felt out of place though because it was a really nice hotel and I am studying abroad in Africa, not the kind of accommodations I was expecting. On the other hand, it is funny that I got myself so worked up over it, considering that this really nice hotel only put me back 10 cedi for a night. Well, that's a lie, considering the dinner and drinks we took part in..... Well, I didn't have a proper 21st Birthday, so forgive me.
So activities for the weekend consisted of me reading two books, eating yummy french toast, hiking up and down the beach (sooooo beautiful), collecting shells and getting one step closer to my dream of joining the fishermen out at sea. We walked to a neighboring village up the beach and took a canoe ride through the mangroves. I really enjoyed the experience, but my legs did not. They were as read as the tomatos in my tuna sandwich. Oh well, skin cancer, no biggy, right? Don't worry mother, I have been lathering on the sunscreen since.
The bus ride back was a breeze, other than the sand I found everywhere!
Well, I am off to Northern Ghana this weekend, making my way to Mole National Park, where I'll be seeing elephants and monkeys. Are you jealous?
Ta-Ta for now.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Waterless Waterfalls
Because of Ghana's Independence day last week, March 6th, I had a four day weekend. Although I assumed that such free time would send me packing, I decided to stick around Accra. For independence day I assumed it would be something akin to 4th of July for me, but a group of us retreated to watch movies rather than venture out into the huge crowed and blistering heat. Not to mention, people got up at 4am to see the celebration at Independence Square. Oh, and the RAIN CAME! I took my first shower in the rain. It was glorious, for the first time since I arrived January 31st, I felt cold. The lightening and thunder was beautiful. Of course the Ghanaian students were laughting at us, tell us that we are crazy. I guess we looked it, I mean I shampooed my hair outside in the rain, while dancing around and making plenty of references to Gene Kelly in "Singing in the Rain." I got yelled at by Uncle Lucas, our security guard, because he claimed he did not want to see me dead. Sorry Uncle, but I hope there are many more rain dances in the future.
The following day, in between eating and more movies, we ventured out to the International Trade Fair. It was crazy!!! There were goods from all over Africa, and I definently put a dent in my wallet. I guess the babysitting paid off. Rest assured, I got many of your gifts there, in fact I think that's all I got is your gifts! Well, that's a lie, I bought a pretty little painting and some beautiful bead for myself...
Saturday we felt more adventurous. We left, with peanut butter and jellie sandwiches, for Boti Falls, this supposed massive beautiful waterfall about two hours from Accra. Because ten of us went, we were able to convince a trotro driver to take us all the way to Boti Falls, instead of making the several transfers that would have been required. Because it had rained the days before, the drive was beautiful. We could actually see a view of Accra from a mountain passing through Aburi. Two hours later, all of us climbing out of the car in our swim gear, ready to make a mad dash to the falls, we discover that the falls were not falling. Talk about a mood kill. I was heart broken, imagining I was going to swim under the cool water. But wait, expectations can be decieving. Although there was no water, I had an opprotunity never presented to me before. We rocked climed up this waterfall, and sat towards the top in aww of the beautiful rainforest that surrounded us. Down at the bottom about a dozen local children had Natalie surrounded and were singing with her. It was one of those days, one of those unexpected experiences, when you expect one thing, get another, and are actually more then satisfied with the outcome. All I could think of 40 feet in the air in this waterless waterfall is how much my mom would love to be climbing this with me, it just seems right up her ally. When Katie and I were decending, we could not resist an attempt to swing like Tarzan from the vines that were hanging over the cliff. Another bad life decision to add to the list upon reflection, considering that it sent us off the edge. Luckly we held fast, and made it down in once piece, minus a few scrathes.
Once dry season is truly over and wet season progressing, I will return and actually swim! Of course, we have no way of knowing if the falls are falling, so we'll see.
I have a request, any one that is willing, I would love some pictures. I miss all my family and my buds and would love to put some up on my walls. I believe that I already posted my address a ways back, but get those out here, and I promise in exchange I will post some more on my blog!
Until next time, Love you all.
The following day, in between eating and more movies, we ventured out to the International Trade Fair. It was crazy!!! There were goods from all over Africa, and I definently put a dent in my wallet. I guess the babysitting paid off. Rest assured, I got many of your gifts there, in fact I think that's all I got is your gifts! Well, that's a lie, I bought a pretty little painting and some beautiful bead for myself...
Saturday we felt more adventurous. We left, with peanut butter and jellie sandwiches, for Boti Falls, this supposed massive beautiful waterfall about two hours from Accra. Because ten of us went, we were able to convince a trotro driver to take us all the way to Boti Falls, instead of making the several transfers that would have been required. Because it had rained the days before, the drive was beautiful. We could actually see a view of Accra from a mountain passing through Aburi. Two hours later, all of us climbing out of the car in our swim gear, ready to make a mad dash to the falls, we discover that the falls were not falling. Talk about a mood kill. I was heart broken, imagining I was going to swim under the cool water. But wait, expectations can be decieving. Although there was no water, I had an opprotunity never presented to me before. We rocked climed up this waterfall, and sat towards the top in aww of the beautiful rainforest that surrounded us. Down at the bottom about a dozen local children had Natalie surrounded and were singing with her. It was one of those days, one of those unexpected experiences, when you expect one thing, get another, and are actually more then satisfied with the outcome. All I could think of 40 feet in the air in this waterless waterfall is how much my mom would love to be climbing this with me, it just seems right up her ally. When Katie and I were decending, we could not resist an attempt to swing like Tarzan from the vines that were hanging over the cliff. Another bad life decision to add to the list upon reflection, considering that it sent us off the edge. Luckly we held fast, and made it down in once piece, minus a few scrathes.
Once dry season is truly over and wet season progressing, I will return and actually swim! Of course, we have no way of knowing if the falls are falling, so we'll see.
I have a request, any one that is willing, I would love some pictures. I miss all my family and my buds and would love to put some up on my walls. I believe that I already posted my address a ways back, but get those out here, and I promise in exchange I will post some more on my blog!
Until next time, Love you all.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
She Sells Sea Shells By The Sea Shore
All week I have been telling myself to go check email and write in my blog. Well, that didn't happen, the same for everything else on my agenda, so I feel a bit behind...
I do not understand how a girl born in raised in San Diego, California can forget her swim suit. I'll make this the last time I complain because everyone here has certainly heard an earfull. But, seriously, seriously. Thanks to Julie though, hopefully I won't be suitless much longer.
Last weekend, ten of us headed off to the beach, a weekend escape. We ventured out about an hour and a half away to Kokobrite. Minus having a flat tire, the journey was a breeze. Once we arrived I knew it was going to be a total break from reality, well at least for the most part. I had to keep reminding myself the whole weekend, that soon it would end, and all the good food and waves would not follow me when I return to Accra. Don't get me wrong, I do love Accra, but Italian food, milk shakes and the beach??? The beach was beautiful, and I collected dozens of shells, the swirlly kind which are my favorite. I found that the best way to find shell was to recruit the ten kids that were following me yelling "obruni." Of course I ended up giving most of them away, for suddenly they had become such a hot ticket once I was after them. The water was perfect, nice and warm. Although I felt like a hick swimming in cut of jeans in the Mission Bay, I went in my shorts and tank top, and did not get out for hours, or at least what felt like hours. That night and the next we "slept" in tents inside Big Milly's Beach Resort. I distinctly remember dozing off to a Ghanaians passionate rant about Mr. Bush, only to be woken up by the screams coming from a neighboring tent. Rest assured, it was only the girls imaginations that provoked it. In between sleeping and froliking on the beach we were all at the Garden Italian resturante up the road. The food was amazing!!! Now my cousin who is in Italy and reading this may scoff, but hey, Italian food in Africa, I'm down. So, that's pretty much it. Beach, music, food and oh, domestic violence. One night some of us were chatting and listening to music, when we realized that behind us a couple was arguing. The next thing I saw sent chills down my spine, he hit his girlfriend, in public. After retrieving the bartender, we heard the him telling the man that this is bad for business, and that he didn't care what he did outside of his bar, so just take it outside. I could not believe how easily he dismissed such violence. Jane, the girlfriend ended up sitting with us for a while as we tried to comfort her. I can still not shake feelings of outrage and frustration. It breaks my heart that domestic violence is such an accepted part of the culture here, and I am interested in the research some of my friends here are conducting on the subject. I am not sharing this because I want to create some demonic image of Ghanaian men or anything, it just amazes me that women accross the world can still be treated as such second hand citizens. I don't know the point I am trying to make here, or even if there is a point...
Moving on....So minus the shake up, the weekend was marvoulous!
I do not understand how a girl born in raised in San Diego, California can forget her swim suit. I'll make this the last time I complain because everyone here has certainly heard an earfull. But, seriously, seriously. Thanks to Julie though, hopefully I won't be suitless much longer.
Last weekend, ten of us headed off to the beach, a weekend escape. We ventured out about an hour and a half away to Kokobrite. Minus having a flat tire, the journey was a breeze. Once we arrived I knew it was going to be a total break from reality, well at least for the most part. I had to keep reminding myself the whole weekend, that soon it would end, and all the good food and waves would not follow me when I return to Accra. Don't get me wrong, I do love Accra, but Italian food, milk shakes and the beach??? The beach was beautiful, and I collected dozens of shells, the swirlly kind which are my favorite. I found that the best way to find shell was to recruit the ten kids that were following me yelling "obruni." Of course I ended up giving most of them away, for suddenly they had become such a hot ticket once I was after them. The water was perfect, nice and warm. Although I felt like a hick swimming in cut of jeans in the Mission Bay, I went in my shorts and tank top, and did not get out for hours, or at least what felt like hours. That night and the next we "slept" in tents inside Big Milly's Beach Resort. I distinctly remember dozing off to a Ghanaians passionate rant about Mr. Bush, only to be woken up by the screams coming from a neighboring tent. Rest assured, it was only the girls imaginations that provoked it. In between sleeping and froliking on the beach we were all at the Garden Italian resturante up the road. The food was amazing!!! Now my cousin who is in Italy and reading this may scoff, but hey, Italian food in Africa, I'm down. So, that's pretty much it. Beach, music, food and oh, domestic violence. One night some of us were chatting and listening to music, when we realized that behind us a couple was arguing. The next thing I saw sent chills down my spine, he hit his girlfriend, in public. After retrieving the bartender, we heard the him telling the man that this is bad for business, and that he didn't care what he did outside of his bar, so just take it outside. I could not believe how easily he dismissed such violence. Jane, the girlfriend ended up sitting with us for a while as we tried to comfort her. I can still not shake feelings of outrage and frustration. It breaks my heart that domestic violence is such an accepted part of the culture here, and I am interested in the research some of my friends here are conducting on the subject. I am not sharing this because I want to create some demonic image of Ghanaian men or anything, it just amazes me that women accross the world can still be treated as such second hand citizens. I don't know the point I am trying to make here, or even if there is a point...
Moving on....So minus the shake up, the weekend was marvoulous!
Friday, February 29, 2008
Oh, Ghana
The reality of living here is now finally sinking in. The first few weeks felt like vacation, and now I am beginning to refer to Volta Hall, where I am staying, as home. The vast differences I found between Ghana and the US are beginning to simply fade away in the daily routines I am becoming accustomed to. Walking down the stairs still sleepy to fill my bucket up so I can use the bathroom, after being awoken by a woman yelling "fresh bread" is now second nature. The heat, the extreme heat, it is still here, but I mention it less and learn to adapt my schedule to the swell in the middle of the day. I've learned that if you can remain still between the hours of noon and 2:30, you will last an entire day. Thus, new friends and I have found ways to entertain, eating for hours, having tea time, laying in bed reading and so on. See, at this point back home I would add a comment about how lazy I feel, but I do not feel propelled to do so for in Ghana, a certain stillness is just a way of life. This stillness I describe here is still something I have not mastered though. And the random details of life that I add to my daily agenda keep me running around. Trips to the market seem frequent and exhausting, and for the second weekend in a row I will be departing Accra again. I'm sure though by the end of my time here, I will master the art of passing time with the simple pleasures of life I enjoy, a good conversation, a cup of tea and a powerful fan.
There is something to be said about being placed outside your comfort zone. Back home I am not used to such intense eye contact. It can be alarming when I am being stared down by an unfamiliar face, but am beginning to understand that such form of staring are simply a way in which people connect here. I have heard stories from other students of them returning to the US and receiving dirty looks from the passer by or signs of uncomfort from their friends because unknowingly their eyes were locked on the person in question. I have been told time and time again that looking someone in the eyes and greeting them is a sign that you recognize their humanity. Thus, I am the freak that has been walking around campus shouting "hi," "hello," "ete sen" to every passer by. I feel that it is the experiences I will encounter outside my comfort zone that will encourage me to grow the most. It is easy back home to be so singular. But I find it nearly impossible to be invisible here, in a place that values community above most everything else. So, no longer can I just be a passive observer of life, but I am here to join in, to be apart of something, even if I am not clear what that is yet. I am not rushed getting involved in anything yet. For now, I am showing up to classes, studying Twi, passing time with new friends, and getting to know this place I call home.
For those who are very excited for pictures, I have some good news for you. My friend Natalia here has been able to upload some photos. Her blog address is http://babygotbaccra.blogspot.com/. I am still working on mine, and have learned that I must upload them at a smaller size to add them to my blog, which is eventually my goal. For now, I am loading some to photobucket, and I will post the link. However, after looking at some of Natalia's, I am a bit embarrassed as she is one amazing photographer!
Love you all!
There is something to be said about being placed outside your comfort zone. Back home I am not used to such intense eye contact. It can be alarming when I am being stared down by an unfamiliar face, but am beginning to understand that such form of staring are simply a way in which people connect here. I have heard stories from other students of them returning to the US and receiving dirty looks from the passer by or signs of uncomfort from their friends because unknowingly their eyes were locked on the person in question. I have been told time and time again that looking someone in the eyes and greeting them is a sign that you recognize their humanity. Thus, I am the freak that has been walking around campus shouting "hi," "hello," "ete sen" to every passer by. I feel that it is the experiences I will encounter outside my comfort zone that will encourage me to grow the most. It is easy back home to be so singular. But I find it nearly impossible to be invisible here, in a place that values community above most everything else. So, no longer can I just be a passive observer of life, but I am here to join in, to be apart of something, even if I am not clear what that is yet. I am not rushed getting involved in anything yet. For now, I am showing up to classes, studying Twi, passing time with new friends, and getting to know this place I call home.
For those who are very excited for pictures, I have some good news for you. My friend Natalia here has been able to upload some photos. Her blog address is http://babygotbaccra.blogspot.com/. I am still working on mine, and have learned that I must upload them at a smaller size to add them to my blog, which is eventually my goal. For now, I am loading some to photobucket, and I will post the link. However, after looking at some of Natalia's, I am a bit embarrassed as she is one amazing photographer!
Love you all!
Sunday, February 24, 2008
What Does Not Kill You Makes You Stronger?
So I have just returned from my little trip this weekend. Well, not just returned, I spent about an hour in the shower trying to scrub the dirt from my day in the rain forest off, and i think it is here to stay.
By last Wednesday, not a one of my near dozen classes I was sampling had started, so my roommate, two other girl friends and I headed out Thursday morning for a weekend of adventure up the coast. We decided not to waste another minute waiting for classes that just would not be happening, so we returned to Cape Coast, the place we had visited the previous week. We all had not felt satisfied with our day trip there, and wanted to spend more time in the area. Also, we had found out about this village on the boarder of the rainforest, about two hours from Cape Coast that welcomes a small number of tourist to stay in their village, learn about their lifestyles, and SLEEP IN A TREE IN THE RAINFOREST!!!
Let me preface the rest of this with the fact that I had an amazing time and would not really change anything, for the experience would have been very different. However, one lesson I have learned after the fact is that when traveling on a whim, you have to expect that things are not going to run smoothly, obviously because not much thought or planning had gone into the trip. So when we arrived at the bus station for our noon bus to Cape Coast, after arguing with several different taxi's to take us to the station for no more than 6 cedi, only to discover that we were at the wrong station, and the next bus from that location would not be until three. We realized that waiting just may be the trend this weekend. But let me tell you, ever since I have been here my threshold for patience has reached an all time high. (And yes parents you did hear me right, patience).
Three short hours after boarding the bus, we arrived in Cape Coast. Of course none of us knew where the hotel was or if there was any vacancies, but this is an adventure right. When is doubt take a taxi, but be careful, some people claim to be taxi drivers when they are far from. It appears we almost fell for such a scheme, but luckily some onlookers warned us not to go with the "taxi" driver that was very pushy. Don't be alarmed, we learned our lesson and now always look for a valid licence plate and such. When we arrived at our hotel, I must admit I was a little worried. Where the cab driver dropped us off was in the middle of just a regular neighborhood street, lined with vendors and stinky gutters, with the hotel perched up the hill a bit. If you are a five star traveler, hotel Sammos may not be for you. However, for four foriegn college with jut a few dollars to their names, it was perfect. Outside appearances are not everything, and this four story old structure was comfortable within. Another lesson learned, flattery can get you practically anywhere in Ghana. Example: We happened to arrive about the same time two other groups of four travelers did as well. Both other parties were very huffy with the manager, who claimed that he never took their reservations. As they were deep in argument, my friends and I were just chatting and laughing, and the next thing we know, he suddenly has the perfect room for us, which he claimed that was no longer available. Everything was smooth, minus the request of the manager for me to take him with me to America and make him my husband. The room was nicer than I thought it would be, it had a fan that was hanging by a thread from the ceiling and our own balcony, perfect for people watching and grooving to the music that was blasting at all hours of the day and night. We had to share a bathroom with the rest on the floor, but this is nothing new to any of us, I mean at least there was running water! And the grand total for our Oasis, was six dollars for two nights. I doubt you could find anything like that in the US.
The next day we spend exploring this relaxed beach town. I felt very much at home in Cape Coast, it reminded me a bit of home and it was such a nice break from the hustle and general dirtiness of Accra. I have now made it my mission to escape from Accra as often as possible! In the morning we ventured out to find a place to eat called Dynasty that we read about in the guide book, and we could not believe it once we found it. It was down the street from the hotel and it was literally a stand with a table to the side covered in lacy curtains, and a woman with one pan and stacks of eggs just waiting to be fried. We just found it so charming that this was listed as a restaurant in the guide book. Let me tell you though, those egg sandwiches were the best I have had yet! We showed the lady that her "restaurant" was in the guide book and her friends fell over with laughter. That may have been a little surreal for them. The rest of the weekend we found many more establishments like that, a Rastafarian vegetarian "restaurant" and a local "bookshop." Each time we would show the owners that they were in the book and they too were so pleased.
The beach in Cape Coast is beautiful, but the waves are very violent. My theory why no one can swim in there because of the dangerous waters is because of the slave castle that is perched above the shore. I believe that all the souls lost there haunt the beaches, and anyone who dare venture out into the water would be dragged off, much like those were decades ago. Okay, maybe this theory is a little out-landish, but it made me feel better knowing I could not go into the water like I would back in San Diego. We were totally content because we played for hours with little children on the beach, many of which were very freaked out by us, but none the less curious. I whipped out my soccer skills for the first time in a while, but those kids were just to fast. That evening we spent at a local hang out, complete with live reggae music and dancing into the wee hours on the beach. It was the perfect relaxing day that we all needed, especially for what was to come.
The next morning we got an early start, hoping to get to the village Mosamogor by early afternoon. After asking people on the streets how to get to the village, be hopped on a tro-tro that was heading to Kakum National Park, the place I had done the canopy walk before. When we arrived 45 minutes later, we were dropped off in front of the same entrance as the canopy walks, figuring we would have to take a taxi from this point. But no, no no no, we were at the complete wrong side of the park. Mosamogor was apparently two hours onto the east side, where no tro tro will take you. So taxi drivers were trying to convince us they would take us there for 80 dollars, which we just laughed in their faces, because most of us don't even have that in our possessions ever. We did not fall for it and were determined to find another way. Our only option was to take a tro tro all the way back to Cape Coast, catch another tro tro to the station on the other side, then take an hour taxi ride up to the village. However we were warned that the next tro tro may be hours. So after waiting on the side of the road for 5 minutes and gorging ourselves on bananas for we had no breakfast, I hear the engine of some beat up car coming our way, realizing this belonged to that of a tro tro, we jumped into the road, flagged it down and the next thing we knew we were heading back to Cape Coast. Then we caught another taxi to the Asain Kumasi station(spelled wrong for sure so do not quote me). When we got off we were literally swarmed by people and taxi drivers practically playing tug-of-war with us. Once we agreed on a low price with one, the whole crowed of people began cracking up. We could not understand why they were laughing at us until we saw the taxi we were to take. It was being held together by tape, with a windshield super glued so that the cracks will stay together, so old that it could hardly run. Yes, everyone was laughing because this was the taxi that was to take us to a village an hour away, on the worst windy dirt roads you could imagine.
Luckily we arrived in one piece. We were greeted by some of the villagers, welcoming us to their town. We had a couple hours to kill before we were to head out into the forest, so Stevo, as we were told to call him, took it upon himself to take us about town. We saw how they harvest the coaco and the palms they grew on their farms, sampling some of their goods. We met some town elders and children galore. The kids followed us everywhere, we felt like we had a posse. A few of them were scared of us though, and Elizabeth, a fourteen year old girl from the village, explained to us it is because they thought we were ghosts because of our white skin. It was quite an interesting interaction! Also, the town laughed as they watch us learn to pump water from the well. We were all a little worried about drinking the water, because we had been warned specifically not to, but we had no other choice. Oh, and guess what Melissa, we saw a monkey!! I got a picture just for you. We rested after we ate some food prepared for us by some local women. We needed that rest, for at three we departed into the rainforest.
It took us one hour to walk to the boarder of the rainforest, through all the farms and a another village, before we made it to the edge of the rainforest. Once there it took about another hour to hike to the tree where we would spend the night. Mind you these are four California girls hiking into the rainforest, in shorts and flip-flops, with a man with a gun and another with a machete, so the night could have taken us anywhere. Once we stepped into the rainforest, the change in environment was so dramatic. You could not see the sky because it was blocked by all the trees. I was tripping every other step over all the foliage and vines that grow wild. I have never seen so much green in my life. Also, I have never seen or heard so many bugs in my life, complete with massive spiders! Along the walk my legs felt very itchy. I simply figured that it was because I was wearing long pants for the first time in a while and I must be hot. But the itches got worse and I was in pain. Yeah, I was not just hot, there were ants in my pants, and I totally did the bogey dance. I am still covered in big red bumps from those little #%@^*%$! Finally we got to the tree platform, which consisted of a wooden platform 30 feet in the air, on which we were to sleep. We climbed the longest latter I have ever seen and curled into the fetal position at the top as it began to get dark. There were bugs everywhere and six of us were us on this SMALL platform in a tree in the rainforest. On top of everything, us four idiots forgot our mosquito nets, so we were fair game for every king of crawling thing. Needless to say, we did not sleep, but were kept awake by all the noises of the forest. We could hear all kinds of bugs, birds and monkeys (to bad it was pitch black so we could not see any of them.) The next morning we rose at dawn and headed out of the forest, kind of in once peace, and all of us had never been so happy to get back into a falling apart, broken down taxi. Don't get me wrong, the rainforest was an experience of a lifetime, and I enjoyed it all!!! I just wish I was a little more prepared is all. We wanted an adventure and we definitely got it! I will cherish that experience forever, reminding myself when things get tough, "I slept in the rainforestt, I can do this."
The adventure didn't end there. When we got back to the STC bus station in Cape Coast, after taking baths in the sink in the restroom, we discovered that all buses were booked full. We did not realize you had to book your ticket back on the same day you arrived. So while we thought we were going to be stranded another night and miss Monday classes, we heard across the way a tro tro driver yelling Accra Accra Accra!!!! Yes, we took a cramped tro tro all the way back to Accra, one of the biggest no no's from the study abroad center. But hey, we got back. So again, note to self: what does not kill you makes you stronger. Or at least exhausted!
By last Wednesday, not a one of my near dozen classes I was sampling had started, so my roommate, two other girl friends and I headed out Thursday morning for a weekend of adventure up the coast. We decided not to waste another minute waiting for classes that just would not be happening, so we returned to Cape Coast, the place we had visited the previous week. We all had not felt satisfied with our day trip there, and wanted to spend more time in the area. Also, we had found out about this village on the boarder of the rainforest, about two hours from Cape Coast that welcomes a small number of tourist to stay in their village, learn about their lifestyles, and SLEEP IN A TREE IN THE RAINFOREST!!!
Let me preface the rest of this with the fact that I had an amazing time and would not really change anything, for the experience would have been very different. However, one lesson I have learned after the fact is that when traveling on a whim, you have to expect that things are not going to run smoothly, obviously because not much thought or planning had gone into the trip. So when we arrived at the bus station for our noon bus to Cape Coast, after arguing with several different taxi's to take us to the station for no more than 6 cedi, only to discover that we were at the wrong station, and the next bus from that location would not be until three. We realized that waiting just may be the trend this weekend. But let me tell you, ever since I have been here my threshold for patience has reached an all time high. (And yes parents you did hear me right, patience).
Three short hours after boarding the bus, we arrived in Cape Coast. Of course none of us knew where the hotel was or if there was any vacancies, but this is an adventure right. When is doubt take a taxi, but be careful, some people claim to be taxi drivers when they are far from. It appears we almost fell for such a scheme, but luckily some onlookers warned us not to go with the "taxi" driver that was very pushy. Don't be alarmed, we learned our lesson and now always look for a valid licence plate and such. When we arrived at our hotel, I must admit I was a little worried. Where the cab driver dropped us off was in the middle of just a regular neighborhood street, lined with vendors and stinky gutters, with the hotel perched up the hill a bit. If you are a five star traveler, hotel Sammos may not be for you. However, for four foriegn college with jut a few dollars to their names, it was perfect. Outside appearances are not everything, and this four story old structure was comfortable within. Another lesson learned, flattery can get you practically anywhere in Ghana. Example: We happened to arrive about the same time two other groups of four travelers did as well. Both other parties were very huffy with the manager, who claimed that he never took their reservations. As they were deep in argument, my friends and I were just chatting and laughing, and the next thing we know, he suddenly has the perfect room for us, which he claimed that was no longer available. Everything was smooth, minus the request of the manager for me to take him with me to America and make him my husband. The room was nicer than I thought it would be, it had a fan that was hanging by a thread from the ceiling and our own balcony, perfect for people watching and grooving to the music that was blasting at all hours of the day and night. We had to share a bathroom with the rest on the floor, but this is nothing new to any of us, I mean at least there was running water! And the grand total for our Oasis, was six dollars for two nights. I doubt you could find anything like that in the US.
The next day we spend exploring this relaxed beach town. I felt very much at home in Cape Coast, it reminded me a bit of home and it was such a nice break from the hustle and general dirtiness of Accra. I have now made it my mission to escape from Accra as often as possible! In the morning we ventured out to find a place to eat called Dynasty that we read about in the guide book, and we could not believe it once we found it. It was down the street from the hotel and it was literally a stand with a table to the side covered in lacy curtains, and a woman with one pan and stacks of eggs just waiting to be fried. We just found it so charming that this was listed as a restaurant in the guide book. Let me tell you though, those egg sandwiches were the best I have had yet! We showed the lady that her "restaurant" was in the guide book and her friends fell over with laughter. That may have been a little surreal for them. The rest of the weekend we found many more establishments like that, a Rastafarian vegetarian "restaurant" and a local "bookshop." Each time we would show the owners that they were in the book and they too were so pleased.
The beach in Cape Coast is beautiful, but the waves are very violent. My theory why no one can swim in there because of the dangerous waters is because of the slave castle that is perched above the shore. I believe that all the souls lost there haunt the beaches, and anyone who dare venture out into the water would be dragged off, much like those were decades ago. Okay, maybe this theory is a little out-landish, but it made me feel better knowing I could not go into the water like I would back in San Diego. We were totally content because we played for hours with little children on the beach, many of which were very freaked out by us, but none the less curious. I whipped out my soccer skills for the first time in a while, but those kids were just to fast. That evening we spent at a local hang out, complete with live reggae music and dancing into the wee hours on the beach. It was the perfect relaxing day that we all needed, especially for what was to come.
The next morning we got an early start, hoping to get to the village Mosamogor by early afternoon. After asking people on the streets how to get to the village, be hopped on a tro-tro that was heading to Kakum National Park, the place I had done the canopy walk before. When we arrived 45 minutes later, we were dropped off in front of the same entrance as the canopy walks, figuring we would have to take a taxi from this point. But no, no no no, we were at the complete wrong side of the park. Mosamogor was apparently two hours onto the east side, where no tro tro will take you. So taxi drivers were trying to convince us they would take us there for 80 dollars, which we just laughed in their faces, because most of us don't even have that in our possessions ever. We did not fall for it and were determined to find another way. Our only option was to take a tro tro all the way back to Cape Coast, catch another tro tro to the station on the other side, then take an hour taxi ride up to the village. However we were warned that the next tro tro may be hours. So after waiting on the side of the road for 5 minutes and gorging ourselves on bananas for we had no breakfast, I hear the engine of some beat up car coming our way, realizing this belonged to that of a tro tro, we jumped into the road, flagged it down and the next thing we knew we were heading back to Cape Coast. Then we caught another taxi to the Asain Kumasi station(spelled wrong for sure so do not quote me). When we got off we were literally swarmed by people and taxi drivers practically playing tug-of-war with us. Once we agreed on a low price with one, the whole crowed of people began cracking up. We could not understand why they were laughing at us until we saw the taxi we were to take. It was being held together by tape, with a windshield super glued so that the cracks will stay together, so old that it could hardly run. Yes, everyone was laughing because this was the taxi that was to take us to a village an hour away, on the worst windy dirt roads you could imagine.
Luckily we arrived in one piece. We were greeted by some of the villagers, welcoming us to their town. We had a couple hours to kill before we were to head out into the forest, so Stevo, as we were told to call him, took it upon himself to take us about town. We saw how they harvest the coaco and the palms they grew on their farms, sampling some of their goods. We met some town elders and children galore. The kids followed us everywhere, we felt like we had a posse. A few of them were scared of us though, and Elizabeth, a fourteen year old girl from the village, explained to us it is because they thought we were ghosts because of our white skin. It was quite an interesting interaction! Also, the town laughed as they watch us learn to pump water from the well. We were all a little worried about drinking the water, because we had been warned specifically not to, but we had no other choice. Oh, and guess what Melissa, we saw a monkey!! I got a picture just for you. We rested after we ate some food prepared for us by some local women. We needed that rest, for at three we departed into the rainforest.
It took us one hour to walk to the boarder of the rainforest, through all the farms and a another village, before we made it to the edge of the rainforest. Once there it took about another hour to hike to the tree where we would spend the night. Mind you these are four California girls hiking into the rainforest, in shorts and flip-flops, with a man with a gun and another with a machete, so the night could have taken us anywhere. Once we stepped into the rainforest, the change in environment was so dramatic. You could not see the sky because it was blocked by all the trees. I was tripping every other step over all the foliage and vines that grow wild. I have never seen so much green in my life. Also, I have never seen or heard so many bugs in my life, complete with massive spiders! Along the walk my legs felt very itchy. I simply figured that it was because I was wearing long pants for the first time in a while and I must be hot. But the itches got worse and I was in pain. Yeah, I was not just hot, there were ants in my pants, and I totally did the bogey dance. I am still covered in big red bumps from those little #%@^*%$! Finally we got to the tree platform, which consisted of a wooden platform 30 feet in the air, on which we were to sleep. We climbed the longest latter I have ever seen and curled into the fetal position at the top as it began to get dark. There were bugs everywhere and six of us were us on this SMALL platform in a tree in the rainforest. On top of everything, us four idiots forgot our mosquito nets, so we were fair game for every king of crawling thing. Needless to say, we did not sleep, but were kept awake by all the noises of the forest. We could hear all kinds of bugs, birds and monkeys (to bad it was pitch black so we could not see any of them.) The next morning we rose at dawn and headed out of the forest, kind of in once peace, and all of us had never been so happy to get back into a falling apart, broken down taxi. Don't get me wrong, the rainforest was an experience of a lifetime, and I enjoyed it all!!! I just wish I was a little more prepared is all. We wanted an adventure and we definitely got it! I will cherish that experience forever, reminding myself when things get tough, "I slept in the rainforestt, I can do this."
The adventure didn't end there. When we got back to the STC bus station in Cape Coast, after taking baths in the sink in the restroom, we discovered that all buses were booked full. We did not realize you had to book your ticket back on the same day you arrived. So while we thought we were going to be stranded another night and miss Monday classes, we heard across the way a tro tro driver yelling Accra Accra Accra!!!! Yes, we took a cramped tro tro all the way back to Accra, one of the biggest no no's from the study abroad center. But hey, we got back. So again, note to self: what does not kill you makes you stronger. Or at least exhausted!
Monday, February 18, 2008
When They Say Classes Start Monday, They Are Just Kidding
For the past few days I have been diligently signing up for classes, running errands and trying to upload photos for the 50th time. However, in Ghana, I have realized that any goal or timeframe you set for yourself a joke. So, needless to say, I have not been meeting any goals. Although, I bought a fan the other day, my biggest splurge other than Malaria pills yet, and let me tell you it is worth every pesoa (penny). For the first time since I have been here I have been able to sleep! And then my neighbors moved in, and I am back to square one, so next investment, more earplugs!
One of my biggest adventures over the weekend was a trip to the Medina market about 15 mins from Legon. I reiterate, if smells could kill, well I would die a terrible death! I had a friend with me that literaly couldn't stomach the market to the point she got sick and had to turn back. The market is like any outdoor market or street fair you have been to, but on crack! There is everything you could possible imagine for sale, and all prices are negoiable. I learned this latter when buying soap for a dollar when really it was five cents. Needless to say I had hours to practice my bargaining skills. I discovered that the only trick that works for me is humor, I just laugh a lot instead of argue, act confused and walk away, and they come running after me with plantain chips for the price I asked for. I spent so much time there, getting lost in the crowed and talking to everyone that grabbed at my skirt and shouted Obruni. I have to say I learned a lot, like where the most amazing fabric is ever. I turned a corner and there is just rows and rows of these little stands that are displaying all this colorful and vibrant fabric. The seamstresses just stand by and will make anything you want for under five dollars. So far I have a skirt and a dress being made to fit exactly me. So if anyones interested, send me your measurements and I'll get you something pretty made. Despite the stress and some of the harassment you experience at the market, I managed to really get to talk to some local Ghanaians that share a love for their country and a strong desire to make me feel welcome.
So, now today is monday and I had my first day of classes. Being excited to learn like any true nerd, I woke up hours earlier then my 930 am class, getting all ready, buying school supplies, and stopping buy my favorite "egg lady" (she makes the best egg sandwiches on campus). I get to class early to discover later that the professor wont be around for another week or two. Huh, you mean class doesn't start for another week or two? Well, the truth is no one has a clue around here, you just show up and hope for the best. Later I discovered this is a trend, considering my history class, drumming class and dance class are all just not happening. So what do I do with myself, who knows! Stay tuned, because if things continue like this for a few more days, my roommate and I are out of here and off on some adventure. Don't worry dad, I'll be taking my Malaria pills.
(I have tried three different ways of uploading photos, and I have another two ideas, so keep yours fingers crossed this is going to happen. And if not, well then I better get better and description in my blog!)
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy Valentines Day!!!
{I forgot to tell you all about one of my favorite experiences of my world tour in my entry yesterday. I guess I just had to much ground to cover! So on the road from
Yesterday, Feb. 13th, we took our last day trip before the start of school the coast of
Something I have realized during my short time here so far is that there is always some antithesis to despair, always a lighter note lurking around the next corner. After we toured the
I’ve been reminded to post my address which is:
UC-EAP
P.O. Box LG 356
Legon,
And my phone number is 011 233 206 538895. The best way to go if you want to call me is to buy a calling card, you can get them really cheap, and just call me knowing I am 8 hours ahead. I normally get up at 7am (so like 11pm your time) and go to bed like at 12pm (so like 4pm your time) so anywhere in between those two times is just fine. Please call, or email (asernst@gmail.com), or send mail. I miss home and all of you! Also, comment on my blog and let me know if I am doing something to annoy you. Oh, and I know you want photos, NEXT STEP I promise!! (But don’t get your hopes up because I have been surprisingly not snap happy).
Love ali
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