Where to start...

Well first things first, my birthday celebration was lovely. The fun began on July 1st when all the friends I have made so far assembled at this outdoor terrasse-type bar that plays awesome African music. It was such a great mix of people: the other CLA interns plus two Americans we picked up along the way, our friends from the beach that we met our first week here, my gym buddies and the lovely Alima and Kofi whom we met at the theatre. On my actual bday, we headed to Kumasi which is the second biggest city in Ghana. We made it just in time for a very exciting Ghana vs. Uruguay match – it was too bad that Ghana’s WC journey had to end there but that’s football... Kumasi was so different from Accra – it felt more modern – right away I noticed that there were sidewalks AND garbage bins! We spent the next day winding through the hectic market, visiting the National Cultural Center, and a traditional Ashanti house. We had heard from our guide at the slave castles in Cape Coast that the Ashanti chiefs had actively participated in the slave trade, however, when we asked our guide at the Ashanti palace if he knew the extent to which the chiefs were involved he replied: my research does not go into that area. Hmm…

After a couple of nights we headed to Tamale, another 6-hour drive away. Traveling by bus in Ghana is quite different than back home. First of all, you cannot count on a roadside McDonald’s to rescue you when nature calls. The bus stops on the side of the road and whoever so desires may pop a squat right next to the bus! Women on one side, men on the other. Needless to say, we became very skilled at dehydrating prior to long bus journeys. Secondly, I remarked on our journey home that we were the only ones reading. Out of 65 passengers, one was listening to music and all the rest were simply staring out the window or dozing. I couldn’t help but wonder why. Was it because they could not afford books, had no interest in reading or couldn’t find books in their local language? But it wasn’t as if people were chatting or knitting or doing cross-word puzzles either. Then it occurred to me that perhaps I was so over-stimulated back home that the thought of spending 16 hours on a bus journey with nothing to do was terrifying but shouldn’t necessarily be. Thirdly, one of my favourite bus customs is that if you feel the need to stretch your legs, you can just stand up. I tried to imagine myself standing for an hour on a Greyhound bus journey in Canada – wouldn’t people look at me funny? Would someone ask me to sit down? And finally, I simply LOVED the fact that you can purchase food out of the window! I was not at all worried that on our long journey home I had no food with me – the bus stopped at toll booths just long enough to allow for the purchase of a loaf of bread, some hard-boiled eggs, peanuts and a banana. Everything a girl needs to make egg sandwiches and a makeshift peanut butter and banana sandwich. I was as happy as the day is new.

That night we arrived in Tamale and had a fabulous Indian dinner of all things. I had one of the best Paneer Masalas ever - Tamale again was so different than anything we’d seen so far. Most people were driving bicycles and scooters and it had a very trendy laid-back vibe. By some crazy stroke of serendipity we ran into a French-Italian couple on the street that we had met 2 weeks prior at the Green Turtle Lodge. We invited them to come with us to Mole National Park – our bus was (supposedly) departing in 2 hours which was just enough time for them to get organized. This was the most challenging day of the trip for me. I was already feeling under the weather with tummy issues and a full-blown cold. Our bus was scheduled to depart at 1:30pm so we arrived at the station at 12:30 just in case but our bus did not leave until 5:30pm! I didn’t want to eat or drink due to the lack of washrooms on the 5-hour route so the wait was quite painful. I uttered ignorantly to my friends: this is my low-point of the trip. Little did I know that it was about to get lower… first it began to pour with rain so everyone huddled under a small holey tarpaulin for shelter – at that exact moment our bus finally drew up and there was a MAD dash while everyone clamoured to embark. It is still unclear to me why we had assigned seat numbers – I could not figure it out - it could not be to count how many tickets have been sold because 15 ticket-holders on our bus had identical seat numbers to those already seated. One of those lucky 15 happened to be me. I was relieved to have Sandrina and another woman separating me from the furious and ominously large woman shouting at me to get out of my seat. She kept telling me to go see the conductor but I was in the right seat so I “stood” my ground (or rather Sandrina did for me). I felt badly because she had paid for a seat just like I had but obviously not badly enough... Then as if things could not get worse, the rain developed into a raging thunder and lightning storm and as we rocked and rolled along a very hairy road, I did wonder if we’d make it to Mole. At a stop en route, an inebriated knife-wielding man entered the bus through the back door. At the time I was completely oblivious as to what was occurring because everyone was shouting in a language I didn’t understand but afterward a friend filled me in: a passenger wrestled a 3-ft machete out of the man’s hand whose intention was to rob the bus. Just great. They took his knife and let him off in the middle of nowhere. Once we did arrive, alive at our destination, we discovered the kitchen had shut at 8 – off to bed without dinner. Everything from then on went smoothly.

Waking up in Mole National Park was amazing. We bumped into two warthogs on our way to breakfast and on our morning hike we saw tons of monkeys, baboons and most amazing of all six elephants!! They were chomping on grass mere feet away. It was truly spectacular. We then spent our afternoon taking in the fresh air, stunning vistas and lounging by the pool. At 4am we caught a bus back to Tamale and then another one straight on to Bolgatanga.

Our first week in Accra we met a guy from Bolga at Labadi beach who said he’d show us around if we were ever in the ‘hood. So we kept in touch and 6 weeks later here we all were having lunch together. He was such a great host – he took us to Tongo to visit an animalistic shrine, to Paga to see the crocodiles as well as a camp where they kept slaves who were in transit to Cape Coast, to Sirigu where there were huts painted in a special style, and to his drum shop called “No Food 4 Lazy Man” (a common Ghanaian saying). The north of Ghana was again very different. The people have marks on their faces distinguishing one tribe from another; many people live in legit clay huts with grass roofs, and the landscape was lush, green with rolling hills.

Funny story: when we were greeted at Tongo, we were handed an eloquently written letter informing us that if we desired to enter the shrine, we would have to do so in the traditional ancestral manner. Sure, we agreed, thinking it must be something like: shoes off, two steps to the right, bow your head and move on. We began our hike up the mountain and at a certain point our guide asked us to remove our shoes. Okay, done. Then he said, remove your tops. What?! Turns out the traditional way to enter the shrine was topless. When in Rome… we were all a bit giggly but we managed fine – and the men in the shrine didn’t even look twice at us – we were given the opportunity to request assistance with any spiritual problems we had from the powers that be which were represented by a wall of feathers, rope and rocks. The village below the shrine was a maze of clay dome-like structures. There was no power or running water –but I did notice some solar panels on the roof of the chief’s home. Our guide told us they were for his television and satellite dish!

Prior to visiting the crocs in Paga, we had seen a ton of pictures of people sitting on them and holding their tails. I was most intrigued as to why the animals didn’t feel inclined to chomp down on any of the grinning visitors. The man in charge informed me that these were sacred crocodiles and that at the beginning of his rule, the chief makes a promise never to bring them harm. I asked how the crocodiles knew of this promise and he just mirrored the incredulous expression on my face. I ended up taking his word for it and stroked the tail of the first croc that emerged from the pond. Then breathed a sigh of relief as I scampered away both hands intact.

We left Bolga the next day at 7:30 am (the bus was only 30 minutes late leaving! It was a record) and got into Accra just after 10pm exhausted, sick of buses but absolutely thrilled with everything we had seen and experienced. (We decided to skip Ouaga in the end...we didn't really have enough time and the costs outweighed the benefits)