Work & Play

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Thursday, June 27, 13

            It seems that I rarely get a full night’s sleep here in Ghana.  Today, I woke up at 5:30 for a 6 AM birding safari.  The tour lasted 3 hours, and we spotted 36 different species of birds.   

It was an incredibly calm morning; we’d walk amongst the bushbuck and cob, monkeys, and warthogs with the first light of day.  They’d often get startled, then habituate to our presence, and continue eating or sleeping.  

 After breakfast, I continued transcription and napped, and did more of the same in the afternoon.           

            Before dinner, I managed to finish my transcription (or should I say I caught up to my interview list).  It felt good to finally push away my looming workload, so I decided to head outside to photograph some monkeys and chill by the pool.  I talked for a few hours with two Canadian girls, comparing and contrasting our ways of life, and spent the evening doing the same with a new friend, Clarence, a 19 year old guy from Austria who has spent the last month working at an orphanage here in Ghana.  I finished off the night with some bitters and a bucket shower.  Tomorrow we head out on a 4 AM bus to Tamale then down to Kumasi once more before heading to Cape Cost after that. 

            I’ve now transcribed 123 pages of interviews and chronicled 50 + pages of my journey here, which can only mean one thing: I’m nearing the end of my time here in Ghana.  It’ll be the 28^th tomorrow, which means I’ll have less than two weeks until I’m in London.  Of course I’m excited for another adventure exploring on my own, but having assimilated well here in Ghana I realize that it’ll be hard to leave.  Explaining my project to the people I meet, I’m able to answer their questions with ease, and often in too great of detail; I’ve learned a lot here and have lived here for over a month (it seems like a lot longer when you’re living out of a backpack and moving every few days).  It will be a real treat to look back on my time here and think of how much I learned and how it has changed my character and behavior.  I highly recommend something like this.

Another Long Haul

Friday, June 28, 13

            Like several other days here in Ghana, today was one dedicated solely to travel.  I awoke early at 3:30 AM and packed up for the 4 AM bus from Mole.  The bus that we had taken from Tamale to Mole “sleeps” at Mole every night and heads out at 4.  Once boarded, the bus only delayed about 20 minutes.  Of course, the road from Tamale to Mole is an all-dirt road, so it did take quite a while, about 5 hours.  

            Once in Tamale, the group and I hopped on a bus headed south to Kumasi – a longer ride than the Mole bus.  It wasn’t until after 6 that I finally made it back to the Justice hotel in Kumasi.  Having just returned from dinner, exhausted from several days of travel and 4 days in a row of waking before 6:45 AM, I’ll end this entry here.  Tomorrow I head to Cape Cost further south. 

Safari'n in Mole

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Wednesday, July 26^th.

            Today was my first complete day in Mole Game park.  After a quick 6-hour nap, I awoke and prepared for a sunrise safari.  Our group met up with a guide I know well, Akabu.   

Although blind in one eye, he’s proved one of the best guides I’ve had at mole.  The two plus hour safari was quite a success.  Immediately, we ran into two male elephants out for breakfast.  We got surprisingly close, and as it turned out, too close.  As another safari group flanked in from the back of the elephant, he got scared thinking we were surrounding him.  With incredible speed, he charged towards us, but then broke left only ten feet away from where I stood.  It was a bit startling for the both of us!

            The rest of the safari was pretty typical – there were bushbuck, cob, waterbuck, and warthogs, each group fleeing when they sensed our presence.  We ended the tour at the water hole where a group of male elephants were bathing and playing in the water.

            The next eventful part of our day came at lunch.  After a nice plate of spaghetti, I heard some commotion at the tables nearby.  A baboon had been spotted, maybe 100 feet away just opposite the pool.  Immediately, a Dutch college student ran down to retrieve his backpack.  The baboon hopped over the fence, and carefully but quickly strode over to our table.  Baboons are notorious for stealing bags, and I had my computer plugged in against a nearby wall having just done some transcription.  As the baboon approached, I leapt to the wall hoping to beat him to my backpack.  The baboon had different plans.  He scaled the four-foot ledge, hopped up onto our lunch table, and made a move to grab the ketchup.  Also vigilant, an employee grabbed a tin of coffee cream and tried to pelt the baboon.  She missed, but the baboon was sufficiently spooked, and it hopped off the table and ran away.  Another day in Ghana!

            The afternoon was filled with transcription and rest.  A group of students from the University of Georgia are here sharing the hotel with us.  In the evening, a few members of our group, the Georgia girls, a Dutch man named Dan, and some Ghanaians on holiday all gathered around in a circle and had a very engaging conversation.   Topics ranged from light safari talk but eventually led to cross cultural comparisons of marriage and premarital sex, love, circumcision, and more.  I somehow made it onto the topic of familial relations, and mentioned I had family in Georgia, and it just happened that one of the girls from Georgia knew my cousin from school!  She was his chemistry partner, had him in her text log…totally a small world moment.  

Blurry shot, but proves the saying "It's a Small World!"

A long day fom Tamale to Mole

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Tuesday, June 25, 13

            If I haven’t said it before, today is the kind of day where I reiterate my claim: If you accomplish one task, consider it a good day when you’re in Ghana.

            This morning, after waking up and packing, I decided to hit the road and find breakfast.  I didn’t feel like grabbing egg sandwich, so instead I walked about a mile down the road to find some vitamilk, grounduts, and imported “hobnob” cookies.  With some food in me, I headed back to the Catholic Guest House and sat in the patio area to read Bell Hooks’ Feminist Theory. While reading, Keith joined me with a friend named Zack.  Zack was the head of the household where Keith’s wife Katie stayed when she was in the Peace Corps.  As it turned out, Zack also was a director at the Tamale branch of Food and Drug Administration in the water regulation branch; a perfect candidate to interview!

My interview with Zack

            After interviewing Zack and hanging out for a bit, our group headed to our favorite SWAD FAST FOOD lunch place.  From there we headed to the bus station, for our supposed 1:30 PM bus departure.  We waited, walked around, ate mango and vitamilk… 2 PM rolled around, 3, 4, 5… and about 6 PM the bus showed up.  To kill time, I taught younger group members how to play Spaa, a favorite Ghanaian card game that I like to play.  The public rest room cost 10 Pesewas to use, and featured a small hole against a brick wall.  

Small girls out of school on a lunch break

            The bus was a government run Metro Mass Transit (MMT) vehicle that had obviously seen better days. The road out to Larabunga and Mole was paved for the first thirty minutes, then a bumpy road for another three hours.  When we stopped along the way at Domango, I introduced myself to a couple of Canadian girls who were on a teaching vacation.  We finally arrived here at Mole (pronounced MOH lay) at about ten thirty, and I’m rooming with Keith and Dave to save money.  We celebrated with some brews and a dinner of grounduts, beef jerky, and hobnobs.  In the end, we accomplished our task: we made it to Mole.  Tomorrow holds a Safari and transcription.  

A traditional dish: Groundnut Soup with Rice Balls

Warning: No internet?

I am heading to Mole today (6/25), I might not have internet for 4 days meaning no posts!

Let Fate Decide: Tamale Edition

Monday, June 24, 13

            Today was one of those days that, when you ask me what Ghana’s really like, I’ll tell you all about; where a series of unexpected events results in pure adventure, smiles foe everyone involved, and everything somehow works out brilliantly.  

            After heading to bed at 9:30,  I woke up early at 7:30 to a thunderous rainstorm.  In Ghana, the rainstorms don’t ever last long – there’s a burst of heavy rain followed by relatively clear skies for a short while before the next one.  I joined Keith for some mango and Ankaa before heading out with Dave for egg sandwiches.  The breakfast was odd; the cook didn't understand our order correctly and we ended up with one monstrous egg sandwich and a cup of tea mixed with instant coffee and a whole lot of sugar.  I was the tea recipient, and drank as much as I could before I decided to peel off in search of interviewees.  

Keith and his chunky egg sandwich

 

This goat was eying us with quite an impressive mustache

            My first stop was a Bel Aqua salesman.  A nice man, Abraham pointed me in the general direction of some water plants, but I had trouble understanding his English.  I decided I’d take a different route; one off the beaten main strip of town.  I took an offshoot down to the left, followed that for a while, and took a few more cuts deeper into the residential area of Tamale hoping to get lost ant take a taxi out later in the day. 

            Far down one street, I could see a lot of commotion and many people gathered near a mosque.  I decided “Why not,” and headed to the cluster.  After returning all the hello’s form the younger crowd, I talked to a man named Hassad who informed me that the gathering was a registry and photo event for National Health Service.  Ghana has recently decided to subsidize the healthcare industry and provide basic healthcare to all Ghanaians who aren’t on a private health plan.  After getting a tour, Hassad fetched his younger brother to bring me to a sachet plant.  

National Health Service registry - notice the picture station to the left

            On our walk, I gathered an entourage of small boys and girls. Obviously, this deep in the village, white people don’t often stroll through.  We arrived at the water plant, Mirror Water, but it was closed.  I asked if they knew of another sachet plant, and an older man nearby overheard the conservation and directed us to another plant.  After another quick walk, we “arrived.”  Or so they told me.  We had walked to the central market, but I wasn’t convinced that here, in the heart of town, a sachet plant was producing.  I asked if I could see the plant, and my entourage asked the woman something in Dagbani.  She quickly moved to a large wooden trunk and began to move large animal skins onto a small table.  She had goat, lamb, snake, alligator, and more.  I stopped her and told the kids – I want to see a “Sachet water plant.”  They all nodded, pleased that they had brought me to my destination.  Obviously my English wasn't working out well, so I decided to go for a visual.  I walked down to the gutter and pulled out an empty sachet.  Everyone – the kids and the skin saleswomen – had an “OH, that’s what he meant” moment.  Apparently sachet water in Dagbani must sound like animal skins. 
            A young man overheard my confusion, and introduced himself as Joseph.  Joseph said he knew of a plant nearby, but we would have to take his motorcycle. “Sure, why not” I said.  He hopped on, and I sat on the metal crate on back, and we drove out of the marketplace. He didn’t talk much on the motorbike, but he let me take a picture of us while riding.

If you can't tell, I'M ON THE BACK OF THIS MOTORCYCLE

            We drove very far, at least 3-4 miles out of town, before reaching a large water plant.  I pointed out the plant, noticing the trucks.  Here, I met Sharif, the salesman for “Icepack” water.  He gladly agreed to a nice, long, recorded interview.  Afterwards, we were sitting in some large armchairs outside the plant, and Sharif said, “Oh, my father has come.”  At the gates, a nice Toyota pulled up.  There were at least half a dozen people, mostly children, in the car.  The driver, however, was no child; An older man with a salt and pepper mustache stepped out of the car.  He wore mirror aviator sunglasses, a traditional northern Ghanaian robe, and had a cigarette between his grinning teeth.  Sharif had told me a little bit about his family, how his great grandfather had immigrated to Tamale from Lebanon, and this man certainly was not Ghanaian looking.  But he certainly was Ghanaian.

The big man and I!

            The man introduced himself as Faiz Moutrage, but Mochacho was his nickname (he had a thick mustache).  We talked for a long while about politics, immigration, business, and I quickly learned that this was a very important man.  He owned  a sachet water plant as a side business in addition to running the Tamale Coca Cola plant across the street (a HUGE factory).  He was a war hero during the revolution in the 80s, showing me scars and bones that had been broken and healed poorly.  In addition, he was a tribal chief of Tamale; but not just any chief, the head chief of the northern district.  And to top it all off, he had recently served as a member of parliament in Accra (the equivalent of a senator).  He shared campaign posters with me, both for his parliamentary campaign and bid for vice president (unsuccessful; he was the CPP candidate, the third party in Ghana and least powerful).  All through this meeting, everyone else around me was silent and kept their heads down; this was a very important guy I had run into!

The poster he gave me from his successful parlaiment campaign - his pseudonym was "Mochacho" during war times

            After pictures, thanks, and phone number exchanges (he entered his name in my contacts as “CHIEF MOCHACHO”), Joseph and I hopped on the motorcycle again and headed far out of town, maybe for a 20 minute ride, to another sachet water plant for another interview.  By now I couldn't stop grinning, and I was hungry for lunch, so I asked if he could give me a ride back to town.  He obliged, but first, he said I’d have to see the national stadium.  We headed to an ENORMOUS stadium which holds 40,000 people, and arrived at the front gate.  Joseph sweet talked the guard to get us in, and I got to explore the stadium floor!  Incredible.

It was pretty cool getting let into the floor of the national stadium

Joseph, my motorcycle buddy, and I

            Joseph finally brought me back to town, and the rest of the day was filled with storytelling, transcription, and some cold Ghanaian beer.  It may seem foolish to rely on fate, but Ghana seems to always deliver.

           

Another travel day - to Tamale

Sunday, June 23, 13

            Although Ghana is a relatively small country (a few of them could fit in California’s space), moving from place to place takes considerable planning and inevitably involves a lot of waiting and suffering.  Today, I moved from the Ashanti capital, Kumasi, to the Northern Region / Muslim Capital city – Tamale (pronounced tAh-mah-lay, not like a Mexican tamale).  

The Streets of Kumasi are deserted this early in the morning

            To move from Kumasi I had to get up and packed by 4 AM, took a cab to the Muslim district (referred to by the Ashanti as the derogatory term “Zongo” district), and bought my twenty Cidi ticket.  By now it was four thirty, and after the morning call to prayer, it was time for a quick breakfast before the long journey – Egg sandwich.

An egg sandwich chef - you can spot them from far away by the stacked tea and cream containers

            Once on the bus, I found it impossible to sleep.  Although the roads have improved since last time I was here, the whole 7+ hour ride was filled with incredibly loud Dagbani movies.  I couldn’t believe how loud they cranked up the volume for these movies – I couldn't drown out the yelling with my iPod earbud volume all the way up or ear plugs.  Saaa.  

            The afternoon was pleasant – Plenty of good food at “SWAD Fast Food” (a local favorite) as well as a calm walk up and down the streets here.   

Homemade SWAD Hummus!

      I'm staying at a small hotel on the outskirts of town called the Catholic Guest House - It's the cheapest place I've stayed in this trip, $14, but I've never had any problems with it.  However, when I finally decided to trim my beard and shave my neck, I was a little surprised to see that the mirror had been removed.  I'm glad I've got no one to inspect my shaving job here.

 

Tomorrow I hope to conduct a few interviews.  For now, I’m exhausted – goodnight! 

Justice Revisited

Saturday, June 22, 13

            I’m writing from the infamous “Justice Hotel” in Kumasi, the capital of the Ashanti region.  The prices have risen here; it now costs about fifteen American dollars  a night here.  To my left, a bare light bulb is precariously hung inches away from the wall, with the cord lazily looping just above the scope of the fan blades.  In the oddly shaped bathroom, I was pleased to find that my clogged spigot now emits a clumsy stream of water (much better for showers than the filled bucket that sits in the basin of the shower area).  Previous adventurers here at the justice have kindly shoved the curtain into the cracks in the wall to prevent mosquitoes in.  And everything has this pretty seal on it to warn thieves that items like the quality bedding or broken phone with lonely hanging cordare not for the taking.  But before I go on, let’s back up.

            This morning (which seems like forever ago) was quite pleasant.  My friend Keith and I got up at 6:30 and took a nice full breakfast – eggs, toast, tea, Vitamilk, and mango. 

 Me Pe Paaa.  We then hailed a trotro and headed to Kumasi station.  Trotro stations are notoriously dirty – certainly some of the foulest places in Ghana.  While walking through, one can spot piles of trash and feces overshadowed by a thick cloud of flies, plentiful public urinators (I had an interesting run in with a guy in front of me, urinating and looking straight at me until I passed by), and of course a thick wet sludge that is quite difficult to remove from my clothes, let alone the lorry park.

            After securing a ride in a bus, I kicked back and watched the movie shown on the makeshift overhead TV.  The system was like one in a 747, but totally jury-rigged with exposed wires, and even more shoddily produced movies.  We picked up the rest of the group at Fise junction and headed for Kumasi.  Again, preachers came to talk about Jesus and The Bible - this one was a professional, he even managed to get 3 hymns going from the bus.  The ride took about 5 hours, the highlight being the stop at The Linda Door and seeing that prices had risen at the public toilet – It costs 50 pesewas to relieve yourself now.  Saaa!

            Upon reaching Kumasi and the Justice Hotel, I headed off to do some interviews.  I was turned away from the Kumasi Metropolitan Assembaly (KMA) Waste Management Department, had an unrecorded interview with a used refrigerator salesman, and a wonderful, lengthy interview with a filter salesman.  Nice one!  I then walked for a few miles up to Chopsticks, had a cold beer and fried rice, and returned to the justice for the cold shower that I wanted so badly.

            The Justice is certainly the shoddiest, most unkempt, pest infested establishment I’ve ever spent the night at.  This is my….fourth visit here?  Yikes.  It’s quite a trip being here, but like everything else in Ghana, there’s a silver lining.  Back in high school, I had to apply to visit Ghana for a second trip and wrote about my experience at the Justice Hotel for my main application.  Below is an excerpt from that essay – It aptly captures why I don’t mind staying here at the Justice for a fourth time.   It’s a fond memory of mine; I apologize for the abundance of clichés.

“If I may sidetrack from the question, I would like to share one of my most favorite memories from the Ghana trip.  It wasn’t getting robbed by the baboon or eating mangoes in Tamale, but much more simple - one of those “life lessons” that parents attempt to teach their kids but inevitably it is the kids who have to learn it from their own experiences. The memory begins in Kumasi.  I think it was our second day in the town, and frankly, I wasn’t having fun.  The rooms were sketchy, the food was beginning to wear my body down, and I was certainly homesick for clean sheets and a calm bedroom.  It was near noon, so Keith, Jeff, Daniel, Jack, Bryan and I set out to find food.  The stretch next to the Justice Hotel was rather barren in terms of restaurants, so we decided to buy some food on the street.  Keith bought some rice (in one bag) and beans (in another,) I bought a pineapple (earlier that day), and we had some box-juice to split.  We returned to the Justice Hotel, walked up the cement steps to the third floor balcony, and sat on the cool stone tiles.  We had no plates, no chairs, no table or silverware.  I was neither comfortable nor used to this sort of dining.  Keith opened up the two bags, I borrowed Jack’s kid-sized pocketknife and began to carve the pineapple.  How would we share our food? With our hands of course, on that cool tile.  I grabbed some beans and rice in my hands in between bites of pineapple and box juice.  “What a way to eat.  This is ridiculous,” I thought.  It was then, in the worst hotel I’d ever stayed at, the dirtiest city, the most bizarre country, that I realized that nothing else mattered.  I was enjoying lunch, just eating for the sake of eating, with friends.  We shared, we suffered, and we laughed, because in the end, this was life, and we were really living it.”
 

Living Gold

Friday, June 21, 13

            Today was far different from what I’ve experienced these past three weeks.  Last night after dinner, James knocked on my door to alert me that our car was ready.  We drove to Baria junction, and retrieved his whole family – his wife and children, brother, brother in-law, and a handful of cousins, a group of around 10 in total.  From there, we drove to Kotoko international airport to retrieve the group of students and teachers, a group I’ll refer to as Hubert’s group or Keith and the gang.  The travelers were excited, exhausted, and glad to have finally made it to Ghana.  I was thrilled to have some fellow Obruni’s to talk to. 

Bako Obruni...Mianue Obruni..Miensa Obruni... 7 Obruni!

            This morning was a logistics day for the group – phones, fufu, and for-ex.  I walked the crew to meet Frank, my phone guy, who was happy to see me.  Frank was the one who encouraged me to head to Sogakope.  After phones were settled, we walked to Amasaman junction, took a trotro to Circle, and tried to arrange a ride for tomorrow’s journey to Kumasi.  Normally I just wait for a car to come to the roadside, or head to Tudu station to take the first spot available in a cheap trotro when I travel.  However, I’m not alone now.  Keith wanted to see if we could charter a trotro to fill 7/14 spots at the station and pick up the rest of us at the Fise junction.  Unfortunately, we couldn't agree on a fair price, so tomorrow morning we’ll go again.

            From there, we walked to “The African Loom,” an art gallery that features artists from all over Ghana and the surrounding countries.  Keith picked up a painting, everyone else grabbed a small piece of artwork, including myself (I grabbed a cheap screen print).  By then, it was lunch time, and we each had a large, spicy bowl of fufu with various meats.  This afternoon I’ll hit up the foreign exchange one last time, then read some of my book before getting an early night’s sleep and heading out tomorrow morning.  

Fufu in the making

The Final Product!

            This recent integration with fellow Americans has really snapped me out of a sort of trance I’ve been in since I left home back in May.  At lunch, I was asked, “So, were you lonely?”  I didn’t have an immediate answer.  Yes, the first few days here were certainly lonely.  But was my loneliness a product of missing my friends and family, or was it simply culture shock?  Come my adventure to Sogakope, I was already comfortable with taking public transportation, speaking my Twi, eating my fufu…Within a few days of returning to Ghana, I was back to my routine as a Ghanaian, and with this adaptation, the crushing feeling of loneliness nearly vanished.

            Within my first week back in Ghana, my friend Yao asked me, “So, you’ve been to Ghana three times.  Why do you want to come back?”  Unlike the previous question, I had a better-formed answer.  There are simple, easily identifiable reasons why Ghana’s a great place to explore.  The country is quickly modernizing, yet the economy remains third-world status, meaning the tourist industry is becoming more sustainable while remaining affordable.  There are baboons, monkeys, elephants, and bushbuck, and who wouldn’t want go on a safari.  Of course, the dishes and fruit are tasty and exotic at times.  But more than any other place I’ve visited in the world, the people here are genuine, kind, fun folks.  Crime is nearly nonexistent.  As I mentioned earlier, the pace of life here is slow and relaxed.  When a car breaks down in the middle of the road,  pedestrians drop what they’re doing to help push the car.  And when someone has extra food and sees you hungry, they smile and shout, “Come!  You are invited!”  Ghana was named the “Gold Cost” during colonial times, and was a central hub for the gold trade.  However, despite the mining industry’s shrinkage, “the gold cost” is still an apt name for a country where the people and general life ethos are truly living gold.

Last day as the lone Obruni

Thursday, June 20, 13

            Today marks three weeks here in Ghana, and a day more since I left home.  Although I’ve been here alone moving from town to town conducting research, it’s been nice to keep ties with friends and family back home via phone, internet, even snail mail.  Fortunately, this evening I’ll be traveling to Kotoko International Airport with James to pick up my former calculus teacher and friend, Keith Hubert, his childhood friend Dave, and a group of high school students from my alma matter, The Marin School.  Like I’d done twice before, these students have come to Ghana for a real cultural immersion experience – they’ll travel the country via public transportation, sleep in $7 a night hotels, go without AC, and eat what seems like mountains of Fufu.  I’m lucky enough to join this group, at least as far as lodging and meals goes, for my journey up north over the next three weeks. I'm looking forward to adorning the costume of white tourist and shamelessly taking photos of everything I see (for weeks now I've been very conservative, I didn't want to bring attention to myself). 

            Although I had a few plans toady, the rain has kept me in.  Immediately after breakfast, I set off for town to add some credit to my internet USB stick (without the added credit, you wouldn’t be reading this!)  To my surprise, I just happened to board another trotro with a preacher at the front.  This one was just as loud as the one the other day, but sold “Express Bibles” for 1GHC (and they were popular!).  After walking tot the Vodafone shop to top up my USB credit, I searched for some phone credit, and ended up just returning to Fise.  Here, I picked up a few mangoes and a pineapple, as well as some more phone credit, before the storm that has been looming overhead the last few days finally hit.  Ever since then, I’ve been stuck in my room listening to the thunderous downpour and joking with Pamela, who now wants to marry me (it’s a common request I get as a well-off white guy, you’ve got to take it with a very large grain of salt).

            I don’t have much more to say today, so I’ll end on this small interaction.  As Pamela and Jane cleaned my room, I tallied up my expenses from the past two days, NOT including lodging and meals here at the lodge.  I buy in bulk when I can, and the expenses followed: 9GHC for 5 waters, 7 GHC for 3 Mangoes and a Pineapple, 22GHC for phone credit (about 4 hours) and 45 GHC for my internet for the rest of my time in Ghana.  All together, the total was about $42.  Pamela looked over my shoulder and asked what I was doing.  It took her a moment to understand my expenses book, but she pointed to the 45GHC Vodafone charge and said “You have spent my salary.”  Not a daily salary, not a week’s worth, but a month.  Although I consider Ghana to be on the rise in economic terms and stable as a democratic country, it’s clear that my conception of what reasonable prices and the value of a Cidi are far off from reality here.  I didn’t say anything to Pamela, and she left, wistfully humming “here comes the bride.”