Weekend trips and life in Accra

The main form of transport for most people in Ghana is the "tro-tro", which come in varying shapes and sizes. No matter how decomposed they are, most have some sort of blessing written on the back window. There is the standard "God is with us", and then there is "Inshallah", depending on the driver's religious denomination. Vehicles do need some sort of registration and, I would imagine, insurance here. Though, could you have better insurance than a direct line of communication to the great one? And then . . . there are random ones like this lovely yellow tro-tro I saw this weekend. (Insert your interpretation here.) I was delighted to discover that no one was sitting on my lap during a short ride to the beach a few weeks ago, since in Ghanaian tro-tros there is a one-seat-per-person policy. No giant open basins of palm oil in the back seat or motorcycles in the trunk here.

Now, the weekend at Anomabo Beach Resort went very nicely. There were some embarrassing events involving a strong rip-tide, boogie boards, and rather loose bathing suits on participants who shall remain nameless. Otherwise, it was a very relaxing and lazy time lounging and reading and playing Clue.

I am confused about one thing. When people build resorts and hotels along beaches, are they literally constructing on sand? I mean, the row of wooden stakes on the beach are preventing the tide from eroding the sand and pushing back the beach, while the main lodge to the resort is literally a few meters behind the row of wooden stakes. In any case, with the way global warming is progressing, I think it's risky to invest in any beach-front property without thinking about rising water-levels in the future. Anyway . . . the picture above shows the little huts we stayed in.

My house-mate Lindsey, her neuro-surgeon boyfriend George, Avi, Sofia, and I.


One of my favourite things to snack on is 'Fan Choco'; it's frozen chocolate milk in a small rectangular plastic bag (I know, David Suzuki and Lalu are gagging right now). You cut off one corner of the bag and just suck . . . kind of like a freezy. Here is a guy selling Fan frozen goodies on the road--very handy for buying snacks out of your car when travelling. He's wearing the woolly grey winter hat to keep the cardboard box full of ice cream and frozen products on his head from giving him an ice-cream headache. (You can't see the box, just him and his hat.) The strangest thing that I see people selling on the road are sling shots. They have a dozen in each hand and run from car to car to persuade drivers to buy them and . . . do what? No idea. I haven't seen anyone actually use a slingshot . . . not even little kids. Will continue to report on the slingshot mystery. . .

I'm discovering that people in Accra are very creative in entertaining themselves. There are only so many bars to frequent; although, there are many different types of restaurants, supplying a variety of ethnic dishes. There is even a restaurant that delivers pizza! For a city, where people orient themselves using landmarks without street signs, this is quite a feat. The other week, I spent about half an hour on my cell phone speaking with the pizza delivery guy, trying to direct him to my house while watching him turn in all sorts of wrong directions 500 meters away (yes, he was in sight!). I guess the "pass the Shell gas station and look for the small driveway lights on your left, going away from Osu post office--no! AWAY from the Osu post office, TOWARDS Jokers nightclub!" directions plus a new delivery guy equals cold pizza. Imagine getting your hopes up when hearing the delivery motorcycle engine noise get louder and closer . . . but then whiz past your house and grow faint again. (Damn it, he's passed the house twice now, I need to go stand by the road.) No idea if it ever would have gotten there if I wasn't standing by the side of the road madly waving my cell phone in the dark, trying to flag him down before he passed the house again, for the 3rd time. (the photo is of our driveway)

Here is a picture of the outdoor cinema that a couple runs in their backyard. They hold movie screenings every Tuesday night, followed by a discussion of the film. Since the two of them are very well versed in cinematic history, the discussion is a little bit intimidating. Picture a woman with a voice like Marlene Dietrich waving her cigarette at the crowd demanding, "so . . . who hated it?" (you hear quite literally the grasshopper chirping . . .)

Another fun activity is going to Champs, a Canadian sports bar. Yes, the owner is Canadian and also holds a quiz night every week . . . and basically plays the role of Alex Trebec. I love it.

Ants vs. Termites: guess who wins?

I visited the mountains near Wli waterfall this weekend. I was here once before- over two years ago. In the past two years so much has changed in my life, but the mountain looks the same and the little village in the valley is still constructed of mud. I might be biased, but from the Ghanaian side the mountain range looks more lush and green, whereas from the Togolese side, the scars of clearcutting are quite obvious. William the forest ranger, who was our guide, screams into the valley when he hears the roaring of chainsaws illegally cutting down trees. "Stop cutting the trees! I will come down there to cut you!" I think he means "catch you", but what is the success of one lone forest ranger on foot against so many people who are just trying to make some money in order to sustain their lives. When you're worried about the day to day survival of your family, long term planning is not high on the list of priorities.

I was reminded of the highly evolved ants in the forests by their rather painful bites. These are fierce creatures that travel en mass through the forest. When they crawl onto your toes, ankles, and shins, they will not hesitate to dig their teeth (do ants have teeth?) into your skin. Let's just say, on our hike, we became very respectful of ants and yielded to them when our paths intersected. The termites (beige/yellow-coloured) in this picture were not so fortunate. Their army marched directly into the path of the ants and were promptly caught and carried away. Even the plants are highly evolved. Angie made this keen observation when she chewed on the initially sweet taste of some red forest berries and thereafter promptly spitting out the bitter aftertaste along with its seed into the fertile forest soil. Tricks of survival are everywhere in this forest.

Amanda is finally leaving Togo. I met her last night before she flew out of Kotoka Airport here in Accra. She was exhausted and couldn't wait to go home. I still cannot believe that she stayed in Togo for 28 months. She was there for the entire event: Eyadema's death, Faurre's coup, the elections, and the violent aftermath. I remember speaking to her on the phone over a year ago when she told of gun shots in Vogan, her village, after the elections. She told me that Peacecorps pulled their volunteers out of the Plateau region (where Kpalime is) after one raid on a local hotel, where American visitors were tied up, robbed, and beaten. Kpalime, the peaceful little town in the mountains, an opposition strong-hold, became crime-ridden in the spring of 2005. All I remember is the peaceful group of men with sticks and pitchforks the day after Eyadema died. They were going to hunt 'agouti', Ewe for grasscutters, and definitely not stirring up a revolution.