Medase Pa

3 days shy of 8 months, I found myself on a flight home. Here's the finale to my blog that I wrote in Kokrobite the week before I left. Sorry for the sentimental nature...

A few years ago I met some people on holiday. They had been travelling for a few months and I remember being so envious of one of the the girls' feet – so so brown. Browner that I ever thought my feet could be. Ever. But today, I look down (or up if I am in yoga doing the shoulder stand – not that other nifty move that involves drawing in the you know what...) and can barely believe that the feet I stare at are mine. The lovely bronzed colour I had never expected they would be.

Medase, thank you, or the literal meaning of medawasiye (I will lie under you) gives thanks a whole different connotation in Ghana. But the only way I can sum up this whole experience is to say thank you, less in the Ghanaian sense... To Ghana for the things I learned, and forgot. For presenting me with the expected and unexpected. For appreciation, challenging my limits. For the opportunity to live by the sea, be tanned, overdose on vitamin D, the simple delights and beautiful moments. To the people not in Ghana, friends and family, for their positivity, to the people who read this blog, the people who made me feel at home, my neighbours, the wonderful friends I gained, the amazing Accra, Kof and honorary Accra volunteers, to those who kept me sane and entertained at work, Mr Teiks, Yanka. And provident. For raised tolerance to so many things, more patience, ebbing taste buds, the power of hissing, the peppermint palace. To jazz music, hip life, music in general, cake, pizza, 241 pizza, melting moments, Bella, NECK(!), crazy tro tro rides that I would do all over again, long bus journeys, days at the beach, and nights, and to everyone I met here for your unique and inspiring perspectives. To memories and long friendships.

Packing my things to come home, I come across my favourite pink top. Massimo Dutti in Ghana, almost an oxymoron. So easy and light to wear in the oppresive heat, just the right sleeve length and neckline. I am wearing it in so many of my Ghana pictures. I am tempted to bring it home as a relic. Something about it is symbolic – laddered, snagged, victim to ant holes, moth eaten, a massive tear from where I pulled it off wet after wearing it under a waterfall, faded, but still pink, repairable, possibly wearable and still my favourite top.

Chahle, nante yie. Falafel is officially no longer in Ghana...

What's my name?

Aside from being a song by Rihanna that is fairly well-played in Ghana, I recently had a conversation with a Ghanaian about the significance of a name – the thought that goes into naming a child and how a name influences a person's character and personality. Most Ghanaians have several names – all my work colleagues had names at work that were different to the names they kept at home or on facebook, and everyone's middle name is linked to the day of the week on which they were born. For example, I would be Afia. Friday born.

In my last week, I attended a naming ceremony for a baby girl, Megan. Megan's parents run a project in James Town, a shanty town on the beach in Accra, for street kids to get them back into school, providing uniforms and meals. Click here for more info.

Naming ceremonies take place very early in the morning. We woke up at the crack of dawn, but an unexpected rainstorm delayed events and instead of leaving the house at 6am, we ended up leaving at around 7.45am. Armed with macs and umbrellas, feeling slightly chilly, the damp, grey overcast morning felt almost like being at home!

The small room was packed with visitors and well-wishers, so we peered in through the window as the priest finished off the ceremony. Everyone wore white, a few snacks and drinks were given out, including corn wine (non-alcoholic) that smelled of sweetcorn but had a very acquired taste and sobolo – a hibiscus drink with ginger that I much prefer when mixed with sprite.

Everyone brought a gift. Clothes, nappies, other baby things, money. There was a ceremony to say thank you for each gift where a lady stood in the middle of the room, with gifts held on her head, singing a long song in Ga, at the end of which the other women chimed in to a chorus of saying 'thank you' in Ga. This continued for about 45 minutes as there were quite a few presents to get through!

Megan and Jay with me

Beads

Strings of brightly coloured glass beads are a trademark of Ghana. You can find them on sale by the beach, on the roadside, in upmarket jewellery shops, on the wrists and throats of men, women and children, interspersed with larger bright and unique stones or beads. Young girls and women also wear waist beads. Initially to a new eye, the locally made beads can look clumsy, but they grow on you. Some look like sweets, others are made from crushed sprite bottles. There is a bead market in Koforidua in the Eastern region that is meant to be amazing and where a lot of bead shops get their supplies from. Sadly I didn't make it there but did get some nice beads in Kumasi. I befriended the owner of the jewellery stand near Paloma, very close to my house, and have spent some satisfying times designing my own bracelets, necklaces and earrings as gifts to bring home. By the end of my stay, the owner was letting me bring my own beads and string them myself in his shop while he worked on more complex requests for me!

Selection of beads - the ones on the bottom left look like sweets!

Beads made from crushed Sprite bottles

Necklace and bracelet made and designed myself

Time

Time is something on my mind at the moment as each day brings me closer to the end of my stay in Ghana. One of the challenges of adjusting to a new culture is to understand and work through the different perceptions of time.

I read an article a few months ago about cultural perceptions of time around the world, and how this affects lifestyle and behaviours at work. The writer talks about time bound societies like the UK, that see time as linear, and contrasts them with time blind societies like Spain, Portugal and Greece who see time as cyclical.

Elements of my experience in Ghana certainly fall into the second category. A few weeks ago, I spotted a slogan on the back of a cab proclaiming No rush in life, which is a testimony to where Ghana sits on this spectrum, along with the fact that I no longer feel the need to wear a watch. Here there is none of the drive or frenzy to use every minute before it is lost. Time is cyclical, therefore the opportunity to do a given task will return. Deadlines are never absolute. Recently another volunteer was told that [as civil servants] 'deadlines mean nothing to us'! You can take 10 days off for a funeral; a day off to rest after a business trip is standard. There are lots of positives to this more relaxed attitude, it is almost necessary to deal with the intense heat and helps to counter the infrastructure constraints that in themselves inhibit efficiency and productivity. It's easier to live in and enjoy the moment and be more relaxed. But there are a few down sides too. It drives a very reactionary way of working and I have had to work hard to encourage colleagues to operate in a more focused way. Sometimes it means you can feel like the least important person in a conversation or meeting. Despite sitting face to face, you have to make your points fast as any number of things could trump you and take precedence. You will vie for the person's attention with mobile phones (the plural is deliberate), passing people, text messages, faxes, emails, someone selling lunch, a phone credit teller, you name it.

Here's the link to the article: http://www.thesundaytimes.co.uk/sto/public/Appointments/article502271.ece

And an extract from some travel writing I read recently. It's from the 50s, so some of the language is a bit outdated. The European and the African have an entirely different concept of time. In the European world view, time exists outside man, exists objectively, and has measurable and linear characteristics...... Africans apprehend time differently. For them it is a much looser concept, more open, elastic, subjective. It is man who influences time, its shape, course and rhythm... In practical terms, this means that if you go to a village where a meeting is scheduled for the afternoon but find no one at the appointed spot, asking "when will the meeting take place?" makes no sense. You know the answer: "It will take place when people come". Shadow of the Sun, Ryszard Kapuscinski

Safari

'Ghana' and 'safari' are not an obvious association. When my friend came to visit a couple of weeks ago, we followed the promise of seeing elephants, travelled the 15 hours or so to Mole National Park in northern Ghana and were well rewarded. During the afternoon safari, two elephants emerged from the undergrowth and ambled gracefully across the path, metres from where we had stopped.

This time of year, during the dry season, is when you are most likely to see elephants in Mole as all but the main watering hole dry up so the elephants are forced to head there at least once a day for a drink. It was amazing to see them in the wild, and we were lucky the next morning to see the pair again, guarding each others' backs, looking old and wise and inspiring everyone with awe. Sadly I didn't have my SLR with me (you should have seen the size and irritating qualities of some of the lenses present..).

Watch my back, darling!

Our journey back to Accra was not without its dramas, the main one being when the driver fell asleep at the wheel (40 minutes into a 14 hour journey) and   swerved into the middle of the road. We were lucky to reach Accra safely! Here's a selection of the other wildlife we saw:

Babboon - looking smug after stealing several people's lunches!



Cob, or bush bug. The solitary one.





Wart hog roams freely



 



Sun sets over the national park.

2-0

A blog about Ghana would be incomplete without a post about football and I have just committed that unforgivable error of announcing the score ahead of describing the match. As they say in Ghana, "sorry-o"! I attended my first match last Sunday at the stadium in Accra. Hearts of Oak vs Kotoka, the big Accra and Kumasi teams against each other. A bit like Man U vs Arsenal.

Football is really big here, everyone follows the premiership and champions league, especially the teams with Ghanaian players like Chelsea FC. I hope someone is impressed with this level of football talk from me...! I am really looking forward to the Ghana - England match next week.

Back to the game, the crowds were huge, with almost everyone in their team colours (except us)! It was also very frenetic. People got punched in the queue for tickets and the atmosphere was even more volatile inside with fights and punch-ups breaking out all around us, including on the pitch. But there was also a carnival atmosphere with drums, trombones, women dancing and singing, school boys being the football equivalent of ball boys, and it was very colourful to look around the huge stadium and see everyone in their strips and singing team songs. Outside people ate fufu with soup, clearly a match staple. The teams came on to warm up amidst lots of cheering and did a great dance as they went off the pitch to prepare for the match. The game was really fast moving, and Kotoka scored in the first five minutes and a second time in the first half. At one point we saw this blur as a creature of some sort scampered towards the pitch. Security rushed after it and bludgeoned it to death. We thought it was a rat, or a large lizard, but according to press coverage afterwards it was a cat, and it had to be killed in case it was bringing a bad juju spell to one of the teams. Apparently a common part of Ghanaian fotball!

I decided I'd had enough live football experience after the first half. During half time people used the are around the stadium, even the steps, to wash and do their prayers. There was a scuffle to get out as people were still trying to force their way in and we had to dodge a police taser which suddenly erupted to life! So, several thousand people, live music and dancing, diet coke, a few punch-ups, fufu, a taser and a cat bludgeoned to death all in 45 minutes makes for a very entertaining football experience!

Unfortunately I didn't take my camera, but will try and get hold of some pictures.

Luscious Temptations

There are lots of ways to be conned whilst abroad. But lunch in the A&C mall ought to be fairly innocuous. In the 2 weeks I'd been away new places had sprung up. Like Luscious Temptations. Turned out to be not so luscious, hardly a temptation. The name should have been a warning. And the plush decor, booths, wooden panelling, Heinz ketchup and tabasco on every table. Very TGI/Frankie and Benny-esque. The copy cat menu: potato skins, fish fingers, apple pie, brownies, Cranberry juice.. All a veneer for something it wasn't. The cranberry juice was too watery. Then the fish fingers arrived without fries. 6 goujons stacked in a tower for 12 cedi. I cut into the first. I had to saw through it. I tried the second, same thing. Third time lucky. With each portion came generous pots of sauces. No fries. The fries arrived as an after thought when I prompted it and the menu was double checked. Ah yes, the tower of fish isn't just served by itself. 12 cedi for 6 lumps of fish, of which only a third were edible. That was taken away and I was given my pick of something else on the menu. A cheese sandwich. Safe option? A toasted sandwich filled with stir fried vegetables and feta cheese appeared. Not a happy food marriage. But this time they remembered the fries.

 

With it being international women's day, we thought we'd treat ourselves to dessert. We should have known better. Crumbly apple pie, with a creamy custard was the description on the menu. The pie arrived. In place of the slice, maybe with a crumble topping and custard was what looked like a meat pastie covered in aerosol cream. At this point we were in hysterics. As we started to eat, strange orange pieces were discovered in the filling. Maybe remnants of the meat filling that could have plausibly been scraped from the pastry casing to make room for the apple.

 

I am not one to post moany food reviews. But this place annoyed me because it is trying too hard to be something it wasn't, giving the illusion of high quality food on the menu when they are probably defrosting things in the freezer. And charging UK prices for awful awful food.

 

The owner assured us we would not be disappointed next time and took the apple pie off the bill. And the fish fingers. If there is a next time. Otherwise they'd make a good candidate for kitchen nightmares. At least Gordon wouldn't need to refurbish. Koffee Lounge, we will be faithful to you next time.

Tamale

It felt to me like Tamale ran along a long road, intersecting with the town centre and then continuing on. I got to know the road well, on one side it led to a place called 'Kamina', surrounded on both sides by dry teak forest. The weather was still hot and dry, but milder than Bolga, and more bearable. Tamale's market, bigger than in Bolga, with enough to see and wander through, but not so big or crazy that you get lost or overwhelmed. I was in Tamale for 5 days and loved my time there. These were the highlights:

Fieldwork on the back of a moto

Motorbikes and scooters are more common than cars in Tamale and seeing the town from the back of a moto gave a completely different perspective and proximity. I loved it, even the scarier bits driving through congested traffic acoss town when I could have reached out and touched any number of vehicles!

Climbing up a mango tree with strangers

By coincidence, there was a scavenger hunt on the Saturday night, which I joined in, tearing round Tamale chasing points, testing our ingenuity and braveness, and yes, for 10 points our whole team were briefly up a mango tree.

TZ

The local starchy white lump eaten with soup in northern Ghana. It is rice-based and I really liked it. Had it with a soup called 'bito', which for those who know it, reminded me of haleem.

Naaaaaah

This is how people greet and respond to one another in Tamale. By far the most memorable part of my trip and it brings me joy every time I think about it – its intonation, character and genuineness, accompanied sometimes with a slight bow.




Round houses in Tamale

 


Inside a Tamale mosque





Teak forest

 



Making TZ

 



Street signs in Tamale

 


TZ



Bolga - Upper East

Eventually arrived in Bolga, my first stop, at 10am. There is a significant VSO community there, working mainly in education. At 10am, it was a magnificent 39 degrees, the sun directly overhead, beating down and blinding. Bolga is a small town, with a smallish market and very dry. There are lots of rectangular concrete buildings out of which NGOs operate, crumbling and almost war-torn in appearance.

Cows and pigs accompany the chickens and goats roaming freely in the streets. It is cheaper than the south and certainly more deprived, but not as deprived as I expected. There is less choice in the shops, motorbikes outnumber cars as the preferred means of transport. And there are new and unexpected things – sun-dried tomatoes laid out by the roadside, brightly vibrant red, drying in the hot sun as flies feast on their rapidly shrivelling flesh and a vibrant cultural centre selling jewellery., leather goods and baskets.

Kids playing near the crumbling buildings

Old market, Bolga - so dry!

 

Making baskets in the cultural centre - I may have bought one... or two...

Tomatoes - spot the flies!

North of Kumasi - getting there

The journey from Accra to Bolgatanga should take 14 hours. In my case, it took 26. Firstly, the bus was delayed five and a half hours leaving Accra because 'there was something wrong with the tyres'. So at 2.30pm, we finally left and ambled our way north, the stops along the way offering less and less in the way of food and comfort facilities the further we went and the later it got. Nigerian dramas were substituted somewhere along the way for blaring gospel music. By 6.30pm when the sun had set, all the lights were turned out and we spent the rest of the journey immersed in pitch darkness until the sunrise. I drifted in and out of a sleep, rudely awoken by the radio, the urgent honking of the bus, or when we came to a comfort stop. In this blurry world of drifting between sleep and consciousness, aware of the cold and the dehydration fuelled by fear of the worsening toilets, the bus ground to a halt somewhere between Kintampo and Tamale. Every male passenger got off and after about 20 minutes when it became apparent they hadn't stopped to relieve themselves, I got up to find them gathered round trying to prise open a side panel on the bus. Turned out there was a puncture. Clearly that problem with the tyres was fixed well! Two hours and a spare tyre later, the bus creaked on. No such thing as keeping the aisles free, more of how many bunches of plantain, barrels, cases, shoes needed to be negotiated to stumble in and out of your seat. The aircon was cranked up to freezing, so I was glad for a blanket. Ironically, as we left Tamale, the driver turned off the air con, which was when it was needed most as the hot dry sun beat through the windows creating a greenhouse effect and making the bus and its passengers of 26 hours smell interesting. Perhaps it was a tactic to acclimatise to the heat outside.

No heavy lifting, or water sachets!

North of Kumasi - first impressions

Ghana's north-south divide is immediately visible. We were travelling overnight and the sun rose as we approached Tamale to reveal that under cover of night, the lush and abundant green vegetation that I associate with southern Ghana, even in the dry season, had thinned under the fierce dry conditions. In their place was an arrid, barren landscape. Trees, sparcely spaced, struggling to survive in the parched earth, the ground beneath them scorched under the unrelenting sun. Clusters of simple dwellings, constructed of mud, cylindrical with cone-shaped thatched roofs, forming small compounds by the roadside, some barely high enough for a grown man to stand tall.




Not a palm tree in sight!



Round houses

Tupperware usage in Ghana

The most hilarious usage instructions I have read in a long time!

Baby Zaby

My baby niece Sara, aka 'Zaby', finally made an appearance after many long days of procrastination. The wait was worthwhile, as 15 seconds after being coaxed into the world (with sweets and the promise of a visit to Ghana) she was papped wearing a very trendy stripy hat. My theory is she was born wearing it and was worried about what people would say...

Merely by making an appearance in the world she has unconsciously created first time parents, grandparents, great aunts and uncles and an aunty fally!!

Early pictures suggest potential for good looks, personality and sense of humour...

Origami on a bus

Having a visitor was a good opportunity to take a few days' leave and discover a new city. Headed to Kumasi with my cousin on a VIP bus, which was air conditioned and had loads of leg room. It took us two hours to get on a bus because tickets are only sold when a bus pulls in, so you are waiting indefinitely, and then just enough tickets are sold to fill up the bus and so on. It took us two hours to get on a bus. The journey to Kumasi takes you down the still being constructed Kumasi road, past the Achimota house, and means a bumpy ride. A test for any suspension! We were entertained on the bus with Nigerian soap operas. I managed to sleep for almost the entire journey, despite the bumpy ride and was stirred briefly only when the Nollywood actresses emitted particularly loud screams and exclamations! As an aside, Nigerian soaps are filled with intrigue, seduction and mass murder (at least half the cast is finished off in every episode), yet are strangely gripping!

Sitting across the aisle from us was a girl of about 2 or 3 called Ama. She sat really solemnly on her mum's knee for the entire journey, so Fee made her an origami flower and bird which greatly impressed both mother and daughter!

Ghana's second city

Kumasi, the capital of the Ashanti region, is Ghana's second largest city. It is considerably smaller than Accra and has a natural centre. The centre is a proper hub for transport, a market, high street stores and a high degree of bustle to the point of being overcrowded and a little overwhelming! The market sprawls under a series of makeshift tin roofs with themed sections selling fabric, household products, secondhand clothes and food. There was a whole block of street devoted to yams, neatly laid out in heaps on colourful sheets of cloth on the pavement. The narrow lanes of the market barely allow for two people to pass side by side. As we negotiated them, we were faced with oncoming carts, wheelbarrows, trolleys, ducking to avoid women balancing large heavy loads on their heads.

There is an impressive basilica, the huge kejetia market and if you venture a little out of town, the Ashanti king's palace. The Ashanti are one of the most powerful groups in Ghana. We learnt a bit about the history of the royal family. Their symbol is the porcupine, meaning that they are peaceloving but will defend themselves in the event of attack. The king is involved in lots of customs and there are strict rules, for example, during cereminies he is carried in a palanquin as his feet must not touch the floor to protect him from evil spirits. In the past, Ashanti kings were not taught to read or write as it was not considered appropriate for the king to attend school, but this has changed in recent times. No one but the king is allowed to sit in the thrones. The queen mother also has a prominent role to play in ceremonies and customs, and wields the most power as she chooses who the next king will be!

Kumasi is also renowned for its art and culture, and has a huge cultural centre with artisan workshops and really competitive prices. It's a peaceful respite from the manic centre of town. We came away with kente cloth, which is woven in the Ashanti region, beads and some great paintings.




Bustling centre of Kumasi

 




Kejetia market with basilica in the distance



Going into the narrow, hectic, lanes of the market




Crowded street

   



Man in traditional robes outside Ashanti palace

 

Food - Ghanaian style

Ghana offers such a range and choice of cuisine (I've previously mentioned the sushi bar), but having just introduced my cousin to some local dishes, thought I'd share some of the pictures! I mostly enjoy Ghanaian food and eat it a few times a week. It consists of lots of stews and soups and can be quite spicy. Spicy 'shito'(!) sauce or a chilli salsa 'pepe' accompany lots of dishes. Plantain, yam and cassava are the main staples. Street food consists of fried yam or plantain, roasted plantain, egg and bread for breakfast or rice and noodles for lunch.

The stew or soup is generally eaten with a stodgy carbohydrate (with your hands, so you break off bits and dip it in the stew or soup). It's quite messy and you're provided with soap and a bowl of water at the table before and after your meal. Rice is also eaten in very large quantities, and most street vendors and restaurants offer plain rice, fried rice and spicier jollof rice. The stodgy carbs are generally in the form of white lumps of either: fufu (pounded plantain and cassava) which is tasteless and a bit too gloopy; banku (fermented corn) a bit tangy and by far my favourite; kenke (also corn derived and wrapped in leaves) or rice or yam balls. My favourite dishes are banku served with grilled tilapia fish, red red (fried plantain and beans stew), banku with okra stew (this can be a bit slimy!), and waakye, which is rice and beans cooked together.

Red red

Fried yam with pepe



Banku and tilapia



Roasted plantain, the ultimate street food

Harmattan

Wikipedia on the harmattan: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harmattan

My favourite bit is: In Niger, people say that men and animals become increasingly irritable when this wind has been blowing for a while, giving it a bad reputation.

Dust and wispy spiders

It is great being back in Accra. I’m seeing it with fresh eyes and appreciating the things I loved about the city when I first arrived. The heat is also amazing after a taste of the winter cold. But the weather has changed. The sun is no longer as bright, rendering my new sunglasses a bit redundant and the sky is overcast in a haze of dust. Harmattan!

When I stepped off the plane last week at 5.30am, I was hit immediately by the humidity. When I stepped into my house, I was overwhelmed by the musty, earthy scent of dust, coating my face, covering every exposed surface in a red film, thickly caking the floor, which no matter how many times I washed, wouldn’t get clean.

As I mopped, I realised a new species of bug had joined our household and was scrambling hurriedly up the wall to escape my cleaning. In addition to the red ants and the occasional cockroach (giant ones, always in communal areas, always flipped on their backs, always dead, bizarrely), there are now some very wispy spiders. So wispy it’s hard to distinguish them from their equally wispy webs.