My Time in Accra: April 2012

I had wanted to see the Kpando Potters for weeks now, and I finally decided to make a weekend out of it! Most people backed out, so it ended up being Jenny and I leaving mid morning Saturday, with little to no plans of what we were doing. After waiting an hour in Madina for the trotro to fill up, we finally left for the Volta. We got there around 4:30 and spent some time walking around the small town. It was not very touristy, which was really nice for a change. People were fairly friendly and generally left us alone, which is also a welcomed change from Accra. We checked out the beautifully built church and some of the stands before checking into the hotel. It had its own bathroom and a nice fan! Living the high life.

The guidebook said the restaurant at the hotel we were in was the best in town, so we decided to grab dinner there. They didn’t have a menu, so the lady mumbled the 2 things on the menu (I found most people in Kpando mumbled, my dad would have disapproved). Fufu and groundnut soup or rice and chicken. Gives an idea of the restaurants in Kpando. Though to be fair, most of the food was sold at stands, not restaurants. We sat outside and waited for our food for a few minutes before an older drunk man asked if he could join us.

He was fun to chat with as he mumbled (yes mumbled) stories of his childhood, his experience with white people, and how the handyman’s journey begins with the first step. He repeated this quote almost 20 times in the hour we spent with him. It took us a while to realize he was saying “handyman”. Jenny kept fairly quiet and this guy spent a good portion of the conversation telling her she was quiet and didn’t talk. Thanks dude, we realize she was quiet, now maybe give her a chance to talk?

It was an entertaining dinner and he ended up paying for us, which was an added bonus! I didn’t realize he was staying at the same hotel until the end of dinner and he kept asking if we wanted to go hangout, but we politely (and firmly) declined. As we were trying to get into our room (the key was ridiculous) we turned around to see him smiling at us through a window in the hallway. It would have been scary if it wasn’t so funny.

We were pretty tired and crashed by like 10:00 pm only to wake up at 11:00 pm to this guy knocking on our door! It started as tapping and mumbling, followed by banging. I woke up Jenny before asking who was there. Then it stopped and I guess he walked away. Luckily we had locked the door, and looking back its just ridiculous, but at the time it was a little frightening!

We woke up early the next day to go see some pottery. We asked a cab driver that didn’t speak much English if he could take us there and we nodded and showed us to his car. Once in the car he asked, “Wait, where are we going?” I then proceeded to play charades with this man as I tried to explain pottery to him. He then drove around an asked multiple people in Ewe before taking us 200 meters outside of town and getting out of the car. Some lady then walked up to our car and with a solemn face asked us where we were from. We told her and she barked out “welcome. Come”. So we got out of the car, not knowing what was going on, only to have her open up a metal shed to a bunch of pottery. Not exactly what I expected, but ok!

They weren’t making anything that day because it was Sunday, so we bought a piece or two and walked back to the town center. On our walk back we looked for a stand that might be selling Nescafe (the closest thing to coffee we get). There were a few selling the packets, but no one had hot water. I never feel more grossly American than when I’m looking for coffee, but sometimes you just know your going to need it.

We settling for a Nescafe packet and a cold water sachet to mix it with and caught a shared taxi to go see the lake. A large woman with a big bag practically sat on me when I couldn’t scoot over fast enough and started yelling at the cab driver in Ewe. It made for a fun ride down the hill to the water.

I’m not sure what we were expecting, because it was really just a fishing market. Plenty of stands selling fish and other goods while fishermen fixed their boats and nets for the day. We were obviously out of place, but we had just gotten there, so why not walk around!

We settled on a log by the water, drank our makeshift coffee and enjoyed the view and the breeze. A few people passed and said hello, one man introduced his kid to us (adorable of course), but most people left us alone. We were considering leaving when a young man sat down with us. We exchanged name (his is Mohammed) and he wrote down his number on my arm. When I asked him if he worked he told us he was a footballer… Like for the black stars? No. He doesn’t get paid for it. Right, moving on.

I mentioned that I might get a mango and he quickly jumped on that, saying he would get me one. How could I refuse? Literally, he left before I could refuse.

He came back with, not one or two or even three, but a whole bag filled with at least 25 mangos. Oh I love Ghana.

He ran off to go bring someone some fish (I didn’t catch who) and right before we were going to get in a taxi to go see a meditation center, he ran back and hopped in the cab with us. Looks like we made a new friend for the day!

As we were driving back up, he pointed out his house to us, which I guess is where he ran too (dang he’s fast…must be all the football).

We did not go to the meditation center, but instead passed through the northern part of the town. We passed a sign for the real pottery shed! Looked much more legitimate. This guy took us to another part of the lake that didn’t have fisherman on it. He then talked to the canoe ferry and took us on a short canoe ride. I’m not sure why, but it was fun! He even made Jenny row for a while, which was rather entertaining.

We got back in the cab after our excursion and on our way back through the town I asked if we could stop at the pottery shed. Overall it was fairly similar to the other shed experience. We drove up a hill, the cab driver asked some kids a question, a lady who seemed in charge got in the cab, we drove through some bush to another shed, got out and looked at pottery. The shed was bigger and actually had pottery wheels and things outside of it, but it was basically the same thing.

We headed out yet again to find this meditation place, but our new friend told us we needed to eat first. So of course we go back to his house. He introduces us to his entire family and friends and we awkwardly say our hellos. We walked over and met his sister, who was making lunch for us, and I offered to help, but I don’t think they understood me.

We walked back to his house and he told us that after lunch we could have a bath. I politely declined and told him we were still trying to see the meditation center and go home! So he took a bath instead and when he came back out the food was ready! Banku and tilapia. It was truly delicious. Of course all of his brother/ friends wanted pictures of white girls eating Ghanaian food, so they all had their phones out snapping away. I’m sure there are tons of random pictures of me floating around Ghana.

We finally got back to the town center and tried again to look for this meditation center. None of the taxi drivers knew what we were talking about and Mohammed had never been there before, so he couldn’t help much. Jenny suggested pulling out the map in the guidebook. By then I had a crowd of taxi drivers around all fighting to look at the map so they could prove themselves. I put it away shortly after people started pulling at it and an older gentleman said he would take us. I trusted him more than the rest, so we hopped in his cab and got away.

We got there with no trouble (I knew I could trust this guy) and stepped out of the cab into a bushy area. We spoke with a man and a woman playing checkers, who were in charge I guess.

The story goes that a man followed a falling star until it landed in this field.

The mother Mary proceeded to tell him that she wanted this field to be a place of meditation, prayer and tourism in her name. And so this place came to be. Supposedly there is a cult like group of people that live around there and have ceremonies on the first Friday of the month. On this lovely Sunday, however it was simple a beautiful garden, with cool statues around every corner.

We headed back, got on a trotro (with our friend who was going to his moms house on the way) and headed home. But not before e bought some cool elvish bread!

The Town

The Church

The Lake

Substitute Coffee

SCORE!

Mohammed

Jenny Rowing Away

Things Went Much Faster with Him

Pottery Shed Number 2

Mohammed's Home

Avoid Sexy Appearances

And Look! More Lembas Bread

Some friends and I had been hearing about a big easter paragliding festival held in Kwahu for a while, but couldn’t find much information on it. We finally asked our program director to help us and she informed us that all of the hotels were booked, but we might be able to go and just find a place to stay. I was considering doing this, but others were not so enthused. I gave up after someone else told us transportation would be difficult. I was ready to forget about it completely when we saw a group of girls from ISH return Friday night. They just got back from the festival (no pre-planned transportation) and were able to paraglide that day.

After hearing their awesome story, Tessa, Kendra and I decided to give it a shot and go ourselves. We woke up at 4:00 AM the next morning and were on a trotro to Madina by 5:00 AM. As soon as we got there we got into a very nice trotro to Kwahu and even got some instant coffee! Off to a very good start if I do say so myself.

I slept for most of the ride there, so the 3 hour drive went by quickly. We took a taxi up the mountain and were signing up for paragliding by 10:00 AM. The lady at the registration booth that was so precariously placed on the side of the cliff told us that we would go in about 2 hours. Knowing what we do about timing here, we assumed it would be around 4 hours. Still that gave us plenty of time to get home if we needed to! So we walked about 100 meters to the camping grounds restaurant. The paragliding festival was hosted by a radio station, so they were blasting music as loud as they could (not very relaxing). We ate some rice (the only thing on the menu they were actually serving) and headed back to the cliff to watch people take off into the sky.

We sat at a very awkward angle on the steep slope enjoying the view and chatting with some friends who came to the festival as well. I guess we just kept thinking we would be next. We asked the lady calling out names if we could see the list she had, but we weren’t on it yet. We then went back to the registration table and asked where our names were on the list. She huffed and reluctantly flipped through about 30 forms until she found ours. Apparently they were still on people who had signed up the previous day who hadn’t gone.

By 5:00 PM they were still on people from the previous day, so we called it a day. A bit discouraged, but still determined to paraglide we decided to spend the night. We were talking to our friends at the festival earlier that day and they told us they had gotten in the night before. All of the hotels they checked were booked, but a family offered to house them for the weekend. They had a 3 person tent they had brought just in case and told us that if we needed to we could borrow it. However as we hitched a ride in the back of a truck down the mountain, we were confidant we would find a place to stay, no problem.

Yes problem. We hopped off the truck in an extremely busy town filled with people ready to party for the festival. A young couple was trying to help us find a hotel or guest house to stay in. They kept asking where we were going and we kept answering WE DON’T KNOW. They just looked at us like we were crazy (which we were), but they tried to help us anyway. All the hotels were booked (which we already knew) and we finally decided to call our friends and ask for the tent.

We walked about a half an hour to the house they were currently residing in and Josh brought out his tent for us. It was 6:00 PM by then and starting to get dark quickly. He apologized for being unable to offer more help because this small family was already hosting 6 of them in their living room. Even though I sort of wanted to cry, I was somehow able to pull myself together and keep praying that God would take care of us.

We walked around for about 45 minutes asking people (mostly women) on the street if they knew of a place we could stay/ safe place to pitch our tent. They all responded with “No. I don’t know of a place” or “try the police station”. Now the police in Ghana are a tad corrupt, and we didn’t feel like dealing with that so we pressed on.

I couldn’t help thinking about Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem, looking for a place to stay in such a crowded place. Obviously I knew it was nothing like this, but I still like to make connections to keep my mind off the situation at hand.

Just when I was starting to give up hope all together, a man in a Tigo (phone company) shirt offered me half of his sachet of gin. I refused in a somewhat irritable tone and he asked me why. After explaining our situation to now 3 Tigo guys listening in, they brought their boss over. A Man named Michael (like the angel!).

I re-explained the situation and he told us that MTN (another big phone company) was hosting a large event for the Easter weekend. They were all workers from Accra just there for the weekend and were staying in a boys secondary school. He told us he would talk to the headmaster for us to see if we could stay the night there.

Seeing we had no other option and it was starting to rain pretty hard, we gladly excepted and hopped in the mini bus painted with the Tigo logo. We all collapsed in the back of the bus and waited for the workers to get in. They were calling a fellow worker who had the key to their dorm, and was apparently in the hospital (we found out later he had been in a fight). There was some loud yelling on the phone, followed by a ride to the hospital and more loud yelling outside the bus. This might be scary in the states, but here, yelling is just a part of life. I have never once felt threatened while around what seems to be a fight, because if you actually listen (and can understand) they are usually being incredibly respectful. Just loud.

We sat in the bus with a few of the guys who were asking us the usual questions. “Where are you from?” “How old are you?” “How long have you been in Ghana?” “How do you like it here?” “Is it better in the states?”. We answer as nicely as possible given our current moods and soon we see Michael break through the chaos onto the bus. He explains to us that they have to wait a while for the key, but he would take us to the school.

We follow our guide to the street, where he grabs us a taxi and buys us a loaf of bread. Being Easter weekend, and considering all of the other bible references of the weekend, it seemed only fitting to break bread together.

Michael drove with us in the taxi and gave us some lessons in Twi while we waited in traffic. Eventually we just got out and walked to the secondary school, which was about 45 minutes away. The MTN event, which I had assumed would be small, was actually a huge concert on the grounds of the school. We walked by in our dirty clothes with our backpacks and tent while Michael found a place for us to pitch our tent. There were actual campgrounds for the event, but we would have had to pay a lot of money. So after searching and asking and waiting we finally pitched our tiny tent right in front of the Tigo guys dorm room.

Michael led us to the washroom (cement walls with a few stalls) and got us all buckets of water. Did I mention how nice he was?

Kendra was going crazy because she is not exactly the outdoorsy type, and Tessa and I were close to delirium, taking pictures with Kendra’s camera. All in all, there was a lot of crazy to go around.

The guys invited us out, but we were so very tired that we just crawled into our tent. The ground was hard and slanted, we had no blankets or pillows and the concert was about 300 meters away blasting music into the wee hours of the morning, but all in all I was just thankful to have a place to lie down and feel safe. God had brought me through a lot that day and as a fell asleep I could only send up thanks for all the kindness that had been shown to us throughout the day. Some of the guys even offered to sleep on the floor and let us sleep on their bunks, but we felt much more comfortable being separated. I mean we’re trusting, but we only just met these people.

We woke up early the next morning for church and stepped outside our tent. We had arrived late the night before and hadn’t really noticed our surrounding, but as we looked around this morning, we saw we were smack dab in the middle of all of the boys dorms, which were now occupied by various phone company workers. I’m in my tie-dye T-shirt and purple running shorts with a bun on top of my head rubbing the sleep out of my eyes while I look around at all of these men coming to and from the washroom and working out outside there rooms. What a start to the day.

Michael kicks some of the guys outside of one side of the washroom and gets us more buckets of water. We are ready for church rather quickly, take down our tent and then wait for a good 45 minutes for the guys to get ready. Ghana: where the women wait on the men to get ready.

While we are waiting Kendra mentions that she really wants juice and how we should stop for food on the way to church. One of the guys walks away, only to come back 20 minutes late with juice and hot rolls of bread for us. It was truly the sweetest thing.

We walked around for a very long time looking for a church, which is so weird considering how many churches we always see in Ghana, yet now on Easter Sunday, none are in sight.

We finally settle into a small underground Baptist church. I thought it would be more crowded than it was, but it was still very lively. We awkwardly stood up when the pastor asked if there were new visitors and we passed around the microphone saying our names and explaining what we were doing in Ghana. Most of the message was in Twi, and running off of 10 hours of sleep in the last 2 nights, it was hard for me to stay awake.

In the middle of church, Josh texted us saying we should come save our spots for paragliding. We rushed out of the church, said quick goodbyes and thank you’s and headed up the mountain. The registration lady the previous day had told us we would have our place in line, yet Josh was now telling us this was not the case. We get there and run to the registration, only to find that we are now much farther down the list and will probably not get to go that day.

At this point I was about ready to cry. The entire trip I had been trying so hard to be optimistic and keep the spirits up, but now I felt like it had finally crumbled.

I stepped away and found a somewhat quiet spot to read my bible for a while. I didn’t really get much out of the church service that morning and I need some quality time with God after all that had happened. I figured, because it as Easter, I should read about the reason we were celebrating. Even though I was still a little sad, I felt much better. There are far worse things than not getting to paraglide while studying abroad in a beautiful country. “Is my resurrection enough for you?” was the question lingering in my head. Though this weekend was not at all what I had hoped for, God came through in more ways than I can explain and I will continue to choose to be grateful for that.

And if anything, it made for a good story :)