Tues, Sept 22- Fri. Sept 25

9/22

Arrived in Ghana at 0800, but as the Ghanaians say, they are “in time,” not “on time,” so we weren’t cleared from the boat until 1100. I never imagined that ship yards would become so familiar to me… I feel so important when I am granted access back in. Flash the badge to the security, you know. We’re getting in a groove now with class-to-port and feeling our way around countries. The gangway moves with the tide from the second deck to the fifth and switches sides all throughout the port though, so we never know where it is and are cursed to chase it around for the rest of the voyage. The illusive exit, endless enigma. We ported in Tema, the industrial center of Ghana. It’s about 45 minutes away from Accra, the capitol, depending on traffic, which is horrific. The roundabouts in Tema hold homage to the likes of Goodyear and other big corporations, an interesting way to advertise.

Ghanaians are SO friendly. We were met by the port agents and tour guides by a big “awakaaba” or welcome, the first country to really welcome us. I did the city orientation tour, and they took us to the humble sites of history in Accra. At the beginning of the day tour we went to the university in Accra just to see it. Cool, but too long. The bus drove around campus for 2 hours! We saw Independence/ Black Star square and Kwame Nkrumah Memorial Park. Ghana gained Independence from British rule in 1957, and Nkrumah was their first democratic president. The black star, a poignant national symbol and the center of the flag, symbolizes the people of Ghana and maintains that though it seems impossible, the dark star can shine brightly, like the moon. We also saw W.E.B. Du Bois’ house, an American Civil Rights activist who founded the NAACP. He was also a Pan-African (for the betterment and peace of all Africa). He moved to Ghana with his wife when he was 95 and died two years later, so he couldn’t really do that much, but he is very respected in Ghana. As is President Obama, who was here in July. There are buildings and massive signs everywhere, welcoming the first family, and street vendors sell crazy loud t-shirts with the American flag and Obama’s face plastered all over it. They also sell an unbelievable plethora of stuff—old computers, dishwashers, coffins, couches, barbequed muskrats, and fufu (their doughy bread). Also I thought it a cliché before, but it’s actually true—women really do carry everything on their heads all the time. Pretty much if you are a woman and walking, you have something on your head. I understand if you’re selling stuff… that makes sense… but most look like they are taking all this stuff somewhere. Where are they going, and why do they have to move everything around so much? I swear they do more for transportation and distribution in this country than Fed Ex ever thought about doing.

We also went to the market, which was a totally different experience from the souks of Morocco. Here, they also heckle the heck out of you, but their smiles reach their eyes and their low, sweet voices make you stop and talk a while, even if you don’t buy. They don’t have as much as the Moroccans, but they aren’t as aggressive and angry if you walk away. They’re happy just to chat and seem to be genuinely interested in you. A point that the interport lecturer made before we got to Ghana is true—Ghana is not like America in that when people say “how are you” here, they don’t say it in passing and expect a cough out “great, you?” like in America. They mean HOW ARE YOU. How’s your family, and your health, and happiness. They are glad you are visiting their country. National pride is strong, but the people are humble and kind. Christianity is prevalent on the back of vans, in shop names, and on the faces of almost everyone you meet. Tiny little roadside shacks will have “if God says yes who can say no” and “twill fight the better fight.” They have so little, yet they are so happy. I think it is their simple faith and simple lives that make them content. It’s amazing how much happier and more content they are than Americans. They who have so little and we so much, yet they have the peace in daily lives we lack. What is better, abundance and pursuit of prosperity, or cherishing the things you have and having family, friends, and God as the center of your world? Struck me as profound, this way of theirs.

Anyway, back to the market. The booths were packed with wooden jewelry and dangling beads, kenti cloth stoals, blankets, and tunics (kenti is the beautiful local fabric—men weave, women dye) long, carved masks, and paintings of women with babies in a sling on their backs and fruit on their heads. I didn’t have any cedis (the local currency) yet because all the ATMS were Visa, not Mastercard, so my “I really have no money” sounded like a disappointing cough out. Nevertheless, I did get a serious marriage proposal. He sat me down in his booth, took my hands, gazed into my eyes, and told me to please come visit him again. He wanted to cultivate the relationship before launching into the proposal, but his friends bounced around chanting “American wife, American wife,” so his subtlety was shattered.

After the heartbreaking departure from the market (I didn’t buy anything and had to pat my friend’s hand and bid farewell), we had a confusing and crazy taxi ride to an ATM that took MasterCard (only one in the city). We kept on picking up people on the way… apparently that’s a normal thing here, and you get there when you get there. After that we had the local Star and Stone beers, which are almost twice the size of American bottles, and followed some locals to “the best chop bar in Accra,” the Asante Local. A chop bar is a local restaurant where they serve traditional African fufu and red rice with a fantastic sauce on it. But another SAS family was eating there and said it wasn’t good, so we went to a Chinese restaurant. I had eggplant in brown sauce, and it was awesome.

Wed. 9/23

Today was the Mona Monkeys and Wli Waterfall FDP. We hopped on a bus at 0800 and arrived at the Wli Agumatsa Waterfalls 4 ½ hours later. We went deep into the Shai hills, passing tiny villages and bouncing like you wouldn’t believe on the dirt road. Totally NOT made for a bus. After a nice level hike into the forest, we arrived at a massive fall. The spray cooled you down from 200 feet and shot tiny needles into your skin at 20. I didn’t have a swimsuit because I was planning on just wading, but after a few steps out I was soaked. The current and waves that this thing generated set the small stream that fed off of it rushing down the forest bed, almost knocking us over several times. It was a hot day, so the dip in the falls was perfect.
When we got back to the village I was buying some bracelets when our trip leader runs out of the woods, out of breath. “Does anyone know CPR?” he yells. Five of us students run forward and follow him about a ¼ of a mile in, where a black man from Louisiana (the only other tourist there) had complained of chest pains and collapsed. Barely conscious but breathing, he was supported by 2 guys and fanned by the girls until a motorbike came and could roll him to town and a hospital. I hope he’s ok.

After the excitement, we boarded our trusty coach and went to a mess hall for lunch, an old army building. We were served peanut butter soup with chicken and a big ball of mashed sticky rice, a salad of sorts, roasted chicken, and the red rice with the wonderful red tomatoey sauce. Not spicy, almost sweet. I ate too much. I also had a pineapple soda, sort of like yellow fanta and real pineapple and watermelon for dessert. Delicious.

Yay, it’s finally monkey time! The Tafi Atome tribe is famous for its Mona monkeys, which followed them when they were displaced by the British. They believed the monkeys were gods protecting them, and in turn they protected the monkeys. We bought a bunch of plantains (little sweet bananas), and the monkeys would creep down the vines and tentatively snatch them from our hands. Got some great video. They made this really screechy sound that the guy showing us around could do better than the monkeys. The Tafi Atome tribe (or ethnic group, as they call it), lived in a traditional village with thatched straw roofs and smooth mud walls. They made their food over a fire and carried firewood on their heads. The children, clad in rust-colored uniforms, were all smiles as they rode their bikes home from school, and after they lost interest in us they picked up a football (aka soccer) game.

We went to the Shai Hills Reserve after the monkeys, where we climbed huge rocks to get to a bat cave. Later we saw antelope and baboons. Successful day in the bush. Stopped on the side of the road and had mince pie, which is thick sort of sweet dry bread with something that looked like onions but was sweet inside. Interesting.

9/24 Thursday

Another SAS guided tour today. We had Stephen, a Ghanaian that smiled with his eyes and his whole mouth, all the time. I couldn’t believe how much he smiled. Reminded me of Sarah Nan. Every time we were on a tour and the guide wanted our attention, he’d say “Aago”, to which we were supposed to reply “Ahmen.” They told us it meant “Listen please” or “attention” and our response meant “we respect you,” but I personally think it could mean anything—“Hello fat white tourists. You are stupid, yes?” “YES.”

So 2 ½ hours to the village. The first thing we saw when we got there were the faces of a ton of children, waving and running up to the bus. When we got out, there were lines of them waiting to shake our hands. They said, “You are welcome, you are welcome” over and over until it rang in our ears. We then turned the corner and saw the entire village decked in brightly colored sarongs and traditional African garb and sitting in a big square of white plastic chairs. On one side, 40 chairs stood uninhabited, waiting on its audience. We walked around the inner corners, greeting the front row villagers, the elders, and the king, queen, prince and princess. The king doesn’t ever speak directly to the people; he has a royal linguistic that speaks to the people for him in a diplomatic way. Also, there cannot be a king without a queen, and neither can make a decision without the other. The king takes care of the men’s’ concerns; the queen takes care of the women’s’. They said that they’ve been practicing democracy long before the Americans conceived the idea!

Then the drumming began and children danced a rhythmic chicken dance that would look ridiculous if a white person did it. After the bongos ceased, a hush fell over the crowd as the linguistic picked his way, staff in hand, to the front to deliver the king’s eloquently written welcome address. We were then all given traditional African names, which took a really long time but was segmented by interludes of the dancing children. Mine was Aazo Isoenamawu, which means “give everything to God.” They also gave us a handmade pot with our new name on it and a beautiful handmade beaded bracelet. After the ceremony, they made all the white people dance with them, which they thought was hilarious and loved. I definitely looked ridiculous doing that chicken dance, but I loved dancing with the precious children. Our sweet guide, Stephen, was from the village and at one point went over to the drummers and told them they weren’t playing with enough spirit.

The people in the village speak the local dialect and little English, but most in Accra and Tema speak English and Asante, the language of the aggressive ethnic group that conquered most of the others before British colonization. “Etusane” means hello. But it was easy to get around because everyone for the most part was willing to help and talk.

9/25 Fri

Last day in Ghana. Everyone loved it and wanted more time here. We went to an internet café in Tema, where the coffee guy was reading the collected works of Shakespeare, unabridged, cover to cover. Said he expected to finish in about a month. I love Ghana. I’d love to come back someday. It has been my favorite country so far. Sure, they have cool animals and pretty decent food, but the people make it what it is. Their art, attitudes, and hospitality seem to have rubbed off on the shipboard community. We’re all in such good moods!

9/26 Sat.

Neptune Day! First day back on the boat headed to South Africa, and we’re crossing the Equator today. To celebrate, as tradition, all of the “pollywogs” (those who’ve never crossed the Equator by sea) ask King Neptune (our very hard ass, serious, and very British Capt. Jeremy, who was body-painted in green and rocked long, white, stringy hair and skirt, completed by rod, scepter, and crown) for permission to pass. We were christened “shellbacks” when we were “slimed” with fish guts, jumped in the pool, and kissed a fish. Or you could shave your head. I think 14 girls shaved their heads. Inspired by the Ghanaians who all have beautiful bald heads, I did! Don’t worry though, it’ll grow out a little and I’ll have a cute little bob when I see you in December. It doesn't look too bad. Going to take some getting used to. I also got fish guts poured on me though. Delicious. I’m now a shellback. Aarrrggghhhh.