I am having a hard time settling back down into my shipboard life as I count down the few remaining hours until we set sail to South Africa. Ghana has been the most fascinating port I have visited so far. Coming into Ghana with a tabula rasa, the country has written so much of its culture and knowledge onto me that I am already yearning to rediscover.
Day 1: As we coasted through the Takoradi harbor, I peered into a blanket of fog at my first glimpse of West Africa. It was so exciting to finally see land again! I rushed to breakfast and went out on deck and looked down on tribal performers singing, dancing, and drumming to welcome the MV Explorer. It really hit me then that I was halfway around the world.
I rushed to my room to get ready bug spray, check, green sheet, check, water, check, sunscreen, check, camera, check. I had already packed my day with tentative plans and was eager to leave the boat. At each port I have been letting go of my micro management obsession to plan and have been able to just go with the flow of things; something that I have learned is the best way to travel, tentatively but never setting anything in stone. Timitz Square was crammed with students waiting to get off the ship. It took customs a really long time to inspect the boat so we were stuck for two hours, regrouping, re planning… waiting, until we were motioned to exit on the second deck! What started off as a small group of five friends for the day, soon became twelve.
The Takoradi port was much different than the others we had visited. Instead of strolling right off the boat and into the city, we had to walk a good fifteen-minute stretch not to a city, but to a road filled with taxi cab drivers and desperate street vendors pushing and shoving us to buy things from them. Even though we were out of the port, no one had an idea of where the city was. If I even made the slightest glace at a street vendor he was grabbing me trying to take me to his booth to buy a painting or a t-shirt or a keychain from him! They were in frenzy as hundreds of American students poured into the streets not having a clue where to start. It was very overwhelming trying to push my way through a swarm of men shouting at me asking me to buy their this and their that. I had to really focus my wandering mind through the crowd to make sure that all of my friends were with me, and to not get distracted by the commotion.
It was really hard to make taxi arrangements for a group of twelve people. My friend Erik, a former Marine who has lots of experience in traveling and has served as security for the President, took the unofficial “security” role for the day. We were told that most people in Ghana spoke English, but we soon realized that was not the case. Taxi drivers were pulling at us trying to rip us off with fares, but Erik organized three cabs for the twelve of us and made sure that there was at least one boy in each of the cabs with the girls. We knew that we wanted to visit Kakum National Park and the Cape Coast Slave Castle and Dungeon, but had not idea how long it would take is and which direction we were even going in!
Day 1: As we coasted through the Takoradi harbor, I peered into a blanket of fog at my first glimpse of West Africa. It was so exciting to finally see land again! I rushed to breakfast and went out on deck and looked down on tribal performers singing, dancing, and drumming to welcome the MV Explorer. It really hit me then that I was halfway around the world.
I rushed to my room to get ready bug spray, check, green sheet, check, water, check, sunscreen, check, camera, check. I had already packed my day with tentative plans and was eager to leave the boat. At each port I have been letting go of my micro management obsession to plan and have been able to just go with the flow of things; something that I have learned is the best way to travel, tentatively but never setting anything in stone. Timitz Square was crammed with students waiting to get off the ship. It took customs a really long time to inspect the boat so we were stuck for two hours, regrouping, re planning… waiting, until we were motioned to exit on the second deck! What started off as a small group of five friends for the day, soon became twelve.
The Takoradi port was much different than the others we had visited. Instead of strolling right off the boat and into the city, we had to walk a good fifteen-minute stretch not to a city, but to a road filled with taxi cab drivers and desperate street vendors pushing and shoving us to buy things from them. Even though we were out of the port, no one had an idea of where the city was. If I even made the slightest glace at a street vendor he was grabbing me trying to take me to his booth to buy a painting or a t-shirt or a keychain from him! They were in frenzy as hundreds of American students poured into the streets not having a clue where to start. It was very overwhelming trying to push my way through a swarm of men shouting at me asking me to buy their this and their that. I had to really focus my wandering mind through the crowd to make sure that all of my friends were with me, and to not get distracted by the commotion.
It was really hard to make taxi arrangements for a group of twelve people. My friend Erik, a former Marine who has lots of experience in traveling and has served as security for the President, took the unofficial “security” role for the day. We were told that most people in Ghana spoke English, but we soon realized that was not the case. Taxi drivers were pulling at us trying to rip us off with fares, but Erik organized three cabs for the twelve of us and made sure that there was at least one boy in each of the cabs with the girls. We knew that we wanted to visit Kakum National Park and the Cape Coast Slave Castle and Dungeon, but had not idea how long it would take is and which direction we were even going in!
We made our way out of the port area and into the streets of Takoradi to exchange our money for cedi. I was stunned to see how much of a developing city we were in. It was not busy like Manaus, but disorganized. I saw no new or renovated infrastructure but rapidly deteriorating buildings. If I didn’t watch where I was walking I could have easily fallen into open street sewage scattered through the town. I was shocked that the city had left their sewage open or minimally covered with loose pieces of wood. The scent of raw sewage lingered in the blanket of fog and made it so hard to even be in the town.
We collected our Ghanaian money and regrouped and headed off the Kakum National Park, a World Heritage Site known for its endangered species and canopy walk. Driving out of the city through the rural villages was like stepping into a photo from National Geographic on poverty and rural life. Every village we passed was lined up with houses that were falling apart. Right on the outskirts of Takoradi houses appeared to be recycled from bigger and more sophisticated homes and made into livable spaces. As we drove further out houses were built with tin, wood, or brick. But as we got closer to the coast, houses were literally made from mud, brick with thatched roofs. There were so many shops outside of people’s homes. It was evident that these people had minimal or no access to transportation and that small community vendors was what sustained rural life. Our windows were tinted, but whenever the heat would overcome me and I would crack my window people would stare at me so curiously and in awe trying to figure out what planet I had come from. It was so different to see absolutely no suburban life in sight, or at least any that met my western expectations. I felt ashamed that I was feeding off of the stereotypical portrayal of the impoverished third world Africa. I knew that from that moment I would make it a point dig a deeper into African life and to the roots of its problems and try to look past what I had been conditioned to think of Africa.
On our drive out to Kakum, we were stopped at four security checkpoints in various rural communities. It was really frightening, the officers carried heavy artillery and at times even made the cab driver get out and talk and we had no idea why. Prior to our arrival in Takoradi, we had been briefed that it was prohibited to take pictures of government buildings and police, my friend and I had forgotten which resulted in her camera almost getting confiscated by an officer. We were very lucky that day that we did not get hassled by any officers. I learned later from other SAS students that officers had threatened to not let them pass without paying them in cash. I was shocked that corruption was so in your face and that there was not a thing we could do about it. I felt really vulnerable and on edge not knowing what to expect and whether or not we would make it or not.
The drive was a lot longer than we anticipated it to be. Our driver did not seem to know the area really well and didn’t speak much English. We had to make numerous stops to ask for directions, it was really sketchy because we had absolutely no idea where we were. After reaching the sign for the national park, we had to drive down another road that took about an hour past more rural communities. My friends and I realized that the two other taxis with our friends were now nowhere in sight. We hoped that they were not lost.
On this part of the drive I got to see a lot more of the Ghanaian lifestyle. In these villages there were more shops and more people in closer living arrangements. Everywhere I looked there were women and even men carrying and balancing all kinds of foods and goods in huge bowls on their heads. I got a better sense of the Ghanaian community. Even though these people were living in the most minimal conditions I saw no one who looked unhappy. They were all so content, moving slowly and gracefully through their day.
We arrived at a checkpoint stand to pay for our entrance into Kakum, at the stand two young boys approached our cab to buy cocoa from them. “Did you pick this yourself?” I asked. He replied yes and I was shocked and suddenly reminded of the film that we had watched and discussed in Global Studies about the children in the West Africa who are child laborers on cocoa farms, harvesting the plant for US chocolate corporations. But when I looked into the eyes of this young boy, I saw no sign of exhaustion or unhappiness, it seemed so normal as if he was selling newspapers on the street back in the States. Don’t we consider that normal? I thought about the rural villages that I had passed, and what their family structure must be like, and realized that not all African families could afford to be a nuclear family. It occurred to me that it was normal for a family who lived in such bare minimal conditions to send their child off to work to help support their family. They did not see child labor as taboo the way we see it from the perspective of a developed and model country. I realized that this was their way of life and that we were in a developing country and therefore could not criticize the way they choose to sustain themselves (After seeing evidence of “child labor” I understand it as more of a cultural norm and is how people in these countries get by. I feel that as long as children are not being physically, sexually, or mentally mistreated in these working conditions, that we really have no business to decide if what they are doing is wrong and unethical by our standards). I thought about how ironic it was, that countries in the global north expect developing countries to follow in our footsteps, like modeling after the north will automatically lift them from poverty, yet we are the ones who continue to perpetuate the very root of many of these problems; and don’t for a second take into account what cultural barriers we must break in order to attain these western expectations.
Many of the children that I did encounter while I was in Ghana did attend school, but the others that did not were bright in other ways. They could speak over two different languages, or were skilled in some sort of trade. Sure they were not educated by western standards but were rich in skill, something that I saw as more important to their lifestyle. I began to think a lot about cultural integration, foreign aid, and the help that the global north is so proud to be a part of in these developing countries. I wondered if it really helped and if it was really necessary for them to be involved in places that we really know nothing about. Sure I may not be an expert in globalization and have not fully studied the lives of Ghanaians, so there is room for debate and if anyone would like to disagree with my observations and opinions I think that that is fine. But I feel that I made keen observations to what I was seeing around me and incorporating it with my prior knowledge of Ghana and the many aspects that I had learned about the country.
Finally, we were at Kakum! We looked around the visitor area for a while and could not find any of our friends. We asked the workers to look out for them and proceeded with our hike. The canopy walk was all that we had time to do in order to fit the slave dungeon tour into our day. Me, Cassie, and Kenji walked down a path for about fifteen minutes. On our walk we talked a lot with our guide about the different villages that we had passed on our way out to Kakum. He said that many of the villages were different tribes who spoke different languages and African dialects. There are more than 800 different dialects in the continent of Africa, many of them spoken in Ghana alone. He went on to talk about the unification of Africa, and the reason why it is so difficult for the continent to be unified is because of the language barrier throughout the continent, from country to country, even between villages. I predicted that the unifying language would be English. Everywhere I have been, there are always a handful of people you will find that know enough English to help you out. I wondered what Africa would be like if they lost their many dialects and languages to the uniformity of English. Until only a small community of people, like the Native Hawaiians, could speak the native language. In a way I hoped that these countries did not unite, for simple fact that they were just too interesting to lose such a rich culture so that they could speak to one another.
We soon stood at the foot of the most incredible bridge! Suspended 140 feet in the air by colossal trees in the middle of the jungle stood a network of several narrow bridges connected together forming a gigantic circle! I was blown away! The bridges’ base was a ladder, with a thin piece of wood on top, with netting wrapped from the bottom of the latter up and around the sides to make us feel just a little bit safe. At first we walked very cautiously over the bridge trying to stay balanced as the bridge wobbled and shook in every direction, I was really nervous. By the second bridge I wasn’t nervous anymore and started running and taking pictures and having a great time! It was really scary at first, but I felt myself letting go, first of my fear of heights, and then of my worries that I had had earlier about being in Ghana and being so far away from my home and the rest of the world. Running around and suddenly being unafraid sent a serge of accomplishment and feeling of ease through me. I felt that if I just let things go and tried things out that I could stop being so critical of everything, and extract the pure essence out of my surroundings.
We had the best view of the jungle up in the canopy looking down at all of the jungle life and birds, and butterflies. After the canopy walk we went back to the visitor area where we found Charlie, Emily, Erik, and Darlene sitting around waiting for us. I was surprised that we had not run into them on the hike. We were worried that the other five people had not arrived but could do nothing but only hope that they had mistakenly gone to the slave dungeons first instead of Kakum. Our driver told us about a monkey sanctuary near by so we decided to check it out.
We collected our Ghanaian money and regrouped and headed off the Kakum National Park, a World Heritage Site known for its endangered species and canopy walk. Driving out of the city through the rural villages was like stepping into a photo from National Geographic on poverty and rural life. Every village we passed was lined up with houses that were falling apart. Right on the outskirts of Takoradi houses appeared to be recycled from bigger and more sophisticated homes and made into livable spaces. As we drove further out houses were built with tin, wood, or brick. But as we got closer to the coast, houses were literally made from mud, brick with thatched roofs. There were so many shops outside of people’s homes. It was evident that these people had minimal or no access to transportation and that small community vendors was what sustained rural life. Our windows were tinted, but whenever the heat would overcome me and I would crack my window people would stare at me so curiously and in awe trying to figure out what planet I had come from. It was so different to see absolutely no suburban life in sight, or at least any that met my western expectations. I felt ashamed that I was feeding off of the stereotypical portrayal of the impoverished third world Africa. I knew that from that moment I would make it a point dig a deeper into African life and to the roots of its problems and try to look past what I had been conditioned to think of Africa.
On our drive out to Kakum, we were stopped at four security checkpoints in various rural communities. It was really frightening, the officers carried heavy artillery and at times even made the cab driver get out and talk and we had no idea why. Prior to our arrival in Takoradi, we had been briefed that it was prohibited to take pictures of government buildings and police, my friend and I had forgotten which resulted in her camera almost getting confiscated by an officer. We were very lucky that day that we did not get hassled by any officers. I learned later from other SAS students that officers had threatened to not let them pass without paying them in cash. I was shocked that corruption was so in your face and that there was not a thing we could do about it. I felt really vulnerable and on edge not knowing what to expect and whether or not we would make it or not.
The drive was a lot longer than we anticipated it to be. Our driver did not seem to know the area really well and didn’t speak much English. We had to make numerous stops to ask for directions, it was really sketchy because we had absolutely no idea where we were. After reaching the sign for the national park, we had to drive down another road that took about an hour past more rural communities. My friends and I realized that the two other taxis with our friends were now nowhere in sight. We hoped that they were not lost.
On this part of the drive I got to see a lot more of the Ghanaian lifestyle. In these villages there were more shops and more people in closer living arrangements. Everywhere I looked there were women and even men carrying and balancing all kinds of foods and goods in huge bowls on their heads. I got a better sense of the Ghanaian community. Even though these people were living in the most minimal conditions I saw no one who looked unhappy. They were all so content, moving slowly and gracefully through their day.
We arrived at a checkpoint stand to pay for our entrance into Kakum, at the stand two young boys approached our cab to buy cocoa from them. “Did you pick this yourself?” I asked. He replied yes and I was shocked and suddenly reminded of the film that we had watched and discussed in Global Studies about the children in the West Africa who are child laborers on cocoa farms, harvesting the plant for US chocolate corporations. But when I looked into the eyes of this young boy, I saw no sign of exhaustion or unhappiness, it seemed so normal as if he was selling newspapers on the street back in the States. Don’t we consider that normal? I thought about the rural villages that I had passed, and what their family structure must be like, and realized that not all African families could afford to be a nuclear family. It occurred to me that it was normal for a family who lived in such bare minimal conditions to send their child off to work to help support their family. They did not see child labor as taboo the way we see it from the perspective of a developed and model country. I realized that this was their way of life and that we were in a developing country and therefore could not criticize the way they choose to sustain themselves (After seeing evidence of “child labor” I understand it as more of a cultural norm and is how people in these countries get by. I feel that as long as children are not being physically, sexually, or mentally mistreated in these working conditions, that we really have no business to decide if what they are doing is wrong and unethical by our standards). I thought about how ironic it was, that countries in the global north expect developing countries to follow in our footsteps, like modeling after the north will automatically lift them from poverty, yet we are the ones who continue to perpetuate the very root of many of these problems; and don’t for a second take into account what cultural barriers we must break in order to attain these western expectations.
Many of the children that I did encounter while I was in Ghana did attend school, but the others that did not were bright in other ways. They could speak over two different languages, or were skilled in some sort of trade. Sure they were not educated by western standards but were rich in skill, something that I saw as more important to their lifestyle. I began to think a lot about cultural integration, foreign aid, and the help that the global north is so proud to be a part of in these developing countries. I wondered if it really helped and if it was really necessary for them to be involved in places that we really know nothing about. Sure I may not be an expert in globalization and have not fully studied the lives of Ghanaians, so there is room for debate and if anyone would like to disagree with my observations and opinions I think that that is fine. But I feel that I made keen observations to what I was seeing around me and incorporating it with my prior knowledge of Ghana and the many aspects that I had learned about the country.
Finally, we were at Kakum! We looked around the visitor area for a while and could not find any of our friends. We asked the workers to look out for them and proceeded with our hike. The canopy walk was all that we had time to do in order to fit the slave dungeon tour into our day. Me, Cassie, and Kenji walked down a path for about fifteen minutes. On our walk we talked a lot with our guide about the different villages that we had passed on our way out to Kakum. He said that many of the villages were different tribes who spoke different languages and African dialects. There are more than 800 different dialects in the continent of Africa, many of them spoken in Ghana alone. He went on to talk about the unification of Africa, and the reason why it is so difficult for the continent to be unified is because of the language barrier throughout the continent, from country to country, even between villages. I predicted that the unifying language would be English. Everywhere I have been, there are always a handful of people you will find that know enough English to help you out. I wondered what Africa would be like if they lost their many dialects and languages to the uniformity of English. Until only a small community of people, like the Native Hawaiians, could speak the native language. In a way I hoped that these countries did not unite, for simple fact that they were just too interesting to lose such a rich culture so that they could speak to one another.
We soon stood at the foot of the most incredible bridge! Suspended 140 feet in the air by colossal trees in the middle of the jungle stood a network of several narrow bridges connected together forming a gigantic circle! I was blown away! The bridges’ base was a ladder, with a thin piece of wood on top, with netting wrapped from the bottom of the latter up and around the sides to make us feel just a little bit safe. At first we walked very cautiously over the bridge trying to stay balanced as the bridge wobbled and shook in every direction, I was really nervous. By the second bridge I wasn’t nervous anymore and started running and taking pictures and having a great time! It was really scary at first, but I felt myself letting go, first of my fear of heights, and then of my worries that I had had earlier about being in Ghana and being so far away from my home and the rest of the world. Running around and suddenly being unafraid sent a serge of accomplishment and feeling of ease through me. I felt that if I just let things go and tried things out that I could stop being so critical of everything, and extract the pure essence out of my surroundings.
We had the best view of the jungle up in the canopy looking down at all of the jungle life and birds, and butterflies. After the canopy walk we went back to the visitor area where we found Charlie, Emily, Erik, and Darlene sitting around waiting for us. I was surprised that we had not run into them on the hike. We were worried that the other five people had not arrived but could do nothing but only hope that they had mistakenly gone to the slave dungeons first instead of Kakum. Our driver told us about a monkey sanctuary near by so we decided to check it out.
The small sanctuary was run by a Dutch couple that had moved to Ghana to start a lodge, but fell in love with the Ghanaian animals and had a change in agendas. The couple was so dedicated to the animals, they explained to us that they were living off of their savings and used the small amount of money they charged guests to purchase food for the animals. They had about eight monkeys, a couple of endangered cats, a snake, turtles, and crocodiles. We walked around their property in awe of how she maintained all the animals and how well they all got along. A few monkeys she had raised from birth lived in her home.
The woman was very informative and kind to us but for the first time I saw racial segregation in the most unlikely territory. When we asked to bring our taxi drivers into the property, the woman looked at them and with a very stern look on her face said, “No, I would rather not, they can stay outside and wait.” I was really taken back that she would not let our drivers in. It made me start to dislike like her, she had not come off as an oppressive type of person. I wondered why she had chosen Ghana knowing that she would be a minority in the village. I respected everything that she was doing for the animals but only got more upset when she started to complain about how she had to pay “white” prices for her property. As you should, I thought to myself.
By the end of the monkey tour we were pressed for time. It was already 3:30 pm and we needed to get to the slave castles by four or maybe five to catch the last tour for the day. We had only eaten breakfast and had not taken enough water with us and were dehydrated and starving and had no time to stop for food.
Driving out the long dirt stretch to Cape Coast passing the villages and people I re- evaluated everything that I was seeing. I saw the villages as very tribal and traditional in the way they were organized as a community. What seemed out of place in these villages were the ads that were glued or painted on to peoples’ homes, and billboard after billboard selling products that the locals obviously had no use for or could even afford. I began to wonder why these ads were necessary, to cater to us? I imagined what these villages would look like if the ads were taken down, if there was no road leading to their precious national park, how simple their lives would be.
We finally arrived at Cape Coast Castle. I got out and walked to the entrance, it was a very moving experience to set foot at the heart of where the Trans-Atlantic slave trade had taken place; where millions of Africans had been displaced and sold off as property to build up most of the thriving economies in the Americas today. At first glance, you would never guess that such a beautiful piece of architecture was home to such a horrific part of history. We were shown around the museum and looked at the remnants of Ghana’s colonial past. The museum had a lot of disturbing pictures and artifacts that depicted how slaves were treated.
The woman was very informative and kind to us but for the first time I saw racial segregation in the most unlikely territory. When we asked to bring our taxi drivers into the property, the woman looked at them and with a very stern look on her face said, “No, I would rather not, they can stay outside and wait.” I was really taken back that she would not let our drivers in. It made me start to dislike like her, she had not come off as an oppressive type of person. I wondered why she had chosen Ghana knowing that she would be a minority in the village. I respected everything that she was doing for the animals but only got more upset when she started to complain about how she had to pay “white” prices for her property. As you should, I thought to myself.
By the end of the monkey tour we were pressed for time. It was already 3:30 pm and we needed to get to the slave castles by four or maybe five to catch the last tour for the day. We had only eaten breakfast and had not taken enough water with us and were dehydrated and starving and had no time to stop for food.
Driving out the long dirt stretch to Cape Coast passing the villages and people I re- evaluated everything that I was seeing. I saw the villages as very tribal and traditional in the way they were organized as a community. What seemed out of place in these villages were the ads that were glued or painted on to peoples’ homes, and billboard after billboard selling products that the locals obviously had no use for or could even afford. I began to wonder why these ads were necessary, to cater to us? I imagined what these villages would look like if the ads were taken down, if there was no road leading to their precious national park, how simple their lives would be.
We finally arrived at Cape Coast Castle. I got out and walked to the entrance, it was a very moving experience to set foot at the heart of where the Trans-Atlantic slave trade had taken place; where millions of Africans had been displaced and sold off as property to build up most of the thriving economies in the Americas today. At first glance, you would never guess that such a beautiful piece of architecture was home to such a horrific part of history. We were shown around the museum and looked at the remnants of Ghana’s colonial past. The museum had a lot of disturbing pictures and artifacts that depicted how slaves were treated.
After learning about most of the castle’s history, we were taken to the male and female holding dungeons, where slaves would spend weeks until they were shipped across the world. I was still in disbelief that I was in an actual holding dungeon. The conditions were horrific. It was pitch black aside from the newly installed lighting, the only ventilation in the dungeon were two small holes that allowed tiny beams of light to permeate through. We were told that up to 700 slaves were kept in the room that was no bigger than a small classroom.
Next, we went to doors of no return. Once slaves were marched through these doors, they were forever displaced from Africa. Walking though the doors really intensified my experience. I imagined what it must have felt like to not know anything, where I was going, if I would ever see my home or anyone I knew, it was such a scary and overwhelming thing to imagine.
Leaving the slave castle, I felt very fortunate for my freedom. I had known very little about slavery prior to my visit to the castle and was glad that I was able to learn first hand everything about it, to even feel what it must have been like.
I caught my first glimpse of the famous African sunset on my way back to the taxi. It was a beautiful pale red that you could stare at and not even blink. I was soon distracted by a large group of men and children who were asking me for money. They suddenly shook me up from a very motionless and quiet state and made me very tense. I didn’t know what to say, they were tugging and grabbing at me helplessly. I couldn’t turn away from them. They all followed me to my cab and I gave one of the girls a five-dollar bill. I handed her the US dollar and as soon as I gave it to her a man ripped it out of her hand and knocked off the plantain she was holding on her head. I started to panic and locked all the doors in the cab, there was a commotion outside people were trying to get the money back from the man and the girl ran back to my window crying and asking me for more money, and at this point there was really nothing more that I could spare. I was shocked, people were trying to open our doors as we drove away. I realized then that money was really not the solution to their problems and not what I should have given them. I wished that I had had a book or some food or some pens, anything of that sort would have been something that they really could have used.
We rode back in the dark. I was surprised to see people running on the sides of the road, and small fires spread out in every village that we passed. I forced myself to stay awake and keep alert, the security check points seemed a lot more scary than they were earlier. It took about two hours to reach the port where we had to walk down the long eerie looking path back to the boat. It was really nice to be back, I was drained, tired, and starving. I ate and went straight to bed.
Day 2: Six hours later, I was up and rushed off to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity Ghana. The three-hour drive was a lot longer than I had anticipated. We took a different route than the previous day and drove through the twin city of Sekondi, a more water and agriculture based city. So many people stared at us in our fancy air-conditioned bus as we drove out through to the village, we looked so out of place. I saw people working on their land and a lot of children walking to school.
We took a turn into a village, one that looked slightly more developed than most that we had passed on the way out. It was difficult for the bus to maneuver through the narrow roads of the village. We got off the bus and walked down a long path that took us to a clearing in the back of the village where four brick houses were being constructed. We were told that we would be building houses for teachers and government workers. The local workers had already put together most of the framework for the house we just needed to help them with the more tedious tasks. Me and four three other students helped one of the locals dig out an eight-foot ditch for the sewage system of the house. It had already been dug out about four feet deep when we got there. I started working very energetically giving it my all, but within an hour the nonstop digging, tilling, and heat from the sun really got to me. I was drenched in sweat and dirt. The four of us took shifts, while two dug, two would rest, and this continued on for the next couple of hours. Every once in a while one of the local workers would come by and help us out. He wore no shoes, and in five minutes would dig out more than what we could accomplish in twenty minutes of digging.
Lunch arrived and we ate a delicious combo of spicy rice and chicken. A lot of the workers’ children were in the area so we got a chance to play with them. I showed them how to use my camera and they had such a great time with it, they didn’t want to give it back.
When we got back to our project, I felt really accomplished, we had managed to dig out a good three feet of the ditch. Our next assignment was to carry bricks to set up a foundation for a house. This project was equally exhausting if not harder than our first assignment. The bricks were heavy it was hard to stack them on top of each other. But soon, everyone joined in, walking back and forth picking up and stacking bricks, until were finished sooner than we had expected. We all felt really good that we had all managed to fully complete one of the tasks for the day. I dug a little bit more until we were ready to leave. My arms and my back were killing me, but I was really proud of what we had done.
Day 3: I decided to finally take a little bit of a rest from being constantly on the go. I made plans to go out around town with my friends Wang Fang and Rachel. The previous day, Wang Fang had met two students on her visit to a local middle school and they wanted to hang out with us and take us around town and on their fathers boat.
I managed to spot out the cab driver that had driven us out to Kakum the first day I was there. This helped us to quickly get out of the swarm of cab drivers that were eyeing us out as potential customers. We ate at a local restaurant that some of the lifelong learners had suggested, thinking that there would be local Ghanaian dishes. To our surprise, it was an upscale pricy international food restaurant that catered to foreign businessmen while they were in town. We were a little disappointed that lunch was so expensive but were starving and knew of no where else to go.
Next, we walked through Takoradi’s Market Circle filled with vendors galore! I got to see what the market was like during a regular business day. People were selling things everywhere some in shops, some under small umbrellas, and others out in the sun. Here, the people did not bombard us with things to buy like back at the port, but watched us and let us choose freely and were very helpful in telling us about their products. We were really drawn to the Ghanaian fabric stores. Most of the fabrics were handmade comprised of vibrant colors and patterns and shapes stitched together and ready made. There were a lot of food vendors selling barbequed fish and other kinds of meat that looked very unappetizing for my taste.
People moved very slowly from shop to shop and throughout the market. I felt like we stood out mostly because we were so fast paced and were quickly moving from place to place. I found a very colorful bead shop and got two hand painted bracelets made for me with beads that the slaves used to trade with foreign merchants.
We didn’t have much time in the market because we had to meet up with the girls to pick them up from school. We left and went to a really nice part of town called Chapel Hill with larger gated houses on the hillside. We arrived right before students could leave, while Wang Fang went to get the girls, Rachel and I got to meet and talk with a kindergarten class. They were the most adorable and well behaved kids. They greeted us with hugs and laughter and were so curious to get to know us. We introduced ourselves and got to hear a little about them and their names and how old they were. When Wang Fang got back, we had a group of children glued to us who were refusing to let go. I really wanted to stay longer and play with them or teach them English but it was time for us to leave.
Louisa and Juliana, both middle school students were great guides for the rest of the day. They showed us the local radio station, informed us when it was appropriate to take out our cameras, and gave us a tour around Chapel Hill. After walking around the neighborhood, we took a cab back to the port to meet up with Juliana’s father so that he could show us around his boat.
We got to the port and Earnest, Juliana’s father, showed us around the tug boat that he operated, the same boat that had brought the MV Explorer into the port. I was genuinely interested in what he was showing us, where the cockpit was, the engine room, and a tour of the deck. He was so kind and was so knowledgeable on everything that we asked him. At the end of our tour he offered to take us to a local restaurant that his wife cooked at. We were very excited because this would be our first Ghanaian meal.
He took us to a local hotel outside of the city, where we got to meet Juliana’s younger sister and mother. They were so interested in learning about our travels and told us a lot about Ghana and about their family life. They talked about school and how they, like most Ghanaians really valued education. Juliana had seven other siblings, who all attended private schools. Like most Ghanaian families, Juliana’s really seemed to put everything extra that they had into their children and for their future
Soon, Juliana’s mother brought out Banku, a Ghanaian dish served with a thick spicy soup and fish and two doughy balls made from a grain called cassava. We ate the dish in the traditional way with our right hand. I was really concerned with the cleanliness of my hands, but I did not want to be disrespectful and ate with my hand, and soon really enjoyed it. They gave us a spoon to scoop up the soup, but most of the meal we ate with our hands. It was my first time eating with my hands but I was having so much fun doing it. When we were finished Juliana’s mother insisted that we not pay her, “You are guests,” she scolded. We were so thankful that Juliana’s family had shown us such generosity. We thanked her mother and promised to send their family a gift when we got home.
Earnest drove us to their home so that he could drop off his youngest daughter. I was a little bit nervous, it was already dusk and we were entering one of the very rural neighborhoods, but driving through and looking around at people, smiling and waving to them, I could tell that many were just good people. Earnest told us about his neighborhood and that there was hardly any crime, drugs, or violence. People lived so peacefully in these neighborhoods. He explained to us that the land was still controlled by kings and chiefs, who leased or sold land off to residents. I thought that it was really interesting the way that the Ghanaians incorporated the traditional ways of living into modern pace of life.
I didn’t get the sense that I was in any danger in this neighborhood. We soon pulled into their driveway, in the back of the rural neighborhood. Their house was massive with a well and even a cottage that Earnest had built. We got to go inside and meet most of Juliana’s older and younger siblings. They all asked Wang Fang to say different Chinese phrases, which I thought was really cute. It was getting really late so Earnest took us back to the port. On the ride back we talked a lot about Ghanaian communities and politics, and how the traditional chiefdom structure had an almost equal say in the community as the government. I thought that it was great that Ghana maintained such a good balance between culture and modernism.
We got back to the port and thanked Earnest for showing us around and taking us in for the day. It blew my mind again of the generosity that all of the people I had met in these countries had shown to me. We walked back to the ship and waved goodbye to Earnest.
When I got back to my cabin, by room mate was there waiting for me. “We’re leaving to go to the beach lodge at 9:30,” she said. We had made plans to go to a beach lodge for her birthday that night but were not sure if plans would fall through because we had not seen or heard from each other for two days. It was 8pm so I rushed to get everything I needed for the beach lodge. I was a little on the fence about leaving to a place that was an hour away late at night, but figured to just go with the flow and play everything by ear. We got to Timitz Square and our group of eight had doubled.
Next, we went to doors of no return. Once slaves were marched through these doors, they were forever displaced from Africa. Walking though the doors really intensified my experience. I imagined what it must have felt like to not know anything, where I was going, if I would ever see my home or anyone I knew, it was such a scary and overwhelming thing to imagine.
Leaving the slave castle, I felt very fortunate for my freedom. I had known very little about slavery prior to my visit to the castle and was glad that I was able to learn first hand everything about it, to even feel what it must have been like.
I caught my first glimpse of the famous African sunset on my way back to the taxi. It was a beautiful pale red that you could stare at and not even blink. I was soon distracted by a large group of men and children who were asking me for money. They suddenly shook me up from a very motionless and quiet state and made me very tense. I didn’t know what to say, they were tugging and grabbing at me helplessly. I couldn’t turn away from them. They all followed me to my cab and I gave one of the girls a five-dollar bill. I handed her the US dollar and as soon as I gave it to her a man ripped it out of her hand and knocked off the plantain she was holding on her head. I started to panic and locked all the doors in the cab, there was a commotion outside people were trying to get the money back from the man and the girl ran back to my window crying and asking me for more money, and at this point there was really nothing more that I could spare. I was shocked, people were trying to open our doors as we drove away. I realized then that money was really not the solution to their problems and not what I should have given them. I wished that I had had a book or some food or some pens, anything of that sort would have been something that they really could have used.
We rode back in the dark. I was surprised to see people running on the sides of the road, and small fires spread out in every village that we passed. I forced myself to stay awake and keep alert, the security check points seemed a lot more scary than they were earlier. It took about two hours to reach the port where we had to walk down the long eerie looking path back to the boat. It was really nice to be back, I was drained, tired, and starving. I ate and went straight to bed.
Day 2: Six hours later, I was up and rushed off to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity Ghana. The three-hour drive was a lot longer than I had anticipated. We took a different route than the previous day and drove through the twin city of Sekondi, a more water and agriculture based city. So many people stared at us in our fancy air-conditioned bus as we drove out through to the village, we looked so out of place. I saw people working on their land and a lot of children walking to school.
We took a turn into a village, one that looked slightly more developed than most that we had passed on the way out. It was difficult for the bus to maneuver through the narrow roads of the village. We got off the bus and walked down a long path that took us to a clearing in the back of the village where four brick houses were being constructed. We were told that we would be building houses for teachers and government workers. The local workers had already put together most of the framework for the house we just needed to help them with the more tedious tasks. Me and four three other students helped one of the locals dig out an eight-foot ditch for the sewage system of the house. It had already been dug out about four feet deep when we got there. I started working very energetically giving it my all, but within an hour the nonstop digging, tilling, and heat from the sun really got to me. I was drenched in sweat and dirt. The four of us took shifts, while two dug, two would rest, and this continued on for the next couple of hours. Every once in a while one of the local workers would come by and help us out. He wore no shoes, and in five minutes would dig out more than what we could accomplish in twenty minutes of digging.
Lunch arrived and we ate a delicious combo of spicy rice and chicken. A lot of the workers’ children were in the area so we got a chance to play with them. I showed them how to use my camera and they had such a great time with it, they didn’t want to give it back.
When we got back to our project, I felt really accomplished, we had managed to dig out a good three feet of the ditch. Our next assignment was to carry bricks to set up a foundation for a house. This project was equally exhausting if not harder than our first assignment. The bricks were heavy it was hard to stack them on top of each other. But soon, everyone joined in, walking back and forth picking up and stacking bricks, until were finished sooner than we had expected. We all felt really good that we had all managed to fully complete one of the tasks for the day. I dug a little bit more until we were ready to leave. My arms and my back were killing me, but I was really proud of what we had done.
Day 3: I decided to finally take a little bit of a rest from being constantly on the go. I made plans to go out around town with my friends Wang Fang and Rachel. The previous day, Wang Fang had met two students on her visit to a local middle school and they wanted to hang out with us and take us around town and on their fathers boat.
I managed to spot out the cab driver that had driven us out to Kakum the first day I was there. This helped us to quickly get out of the swarm of cab drivers that were eyeing us out as potential customers. We ate at a local restaurant that some of the lifelong learners had suggested, thinking that there would be local Ghanaian dishes. To our surprise, it was an upscale pricy international food restaurant that catered to foreign businessmen while they were in town. We were a little disappointed that lunch was so expensive but were starving and knew of no where else to go.
Next, we walked through Takoradi’s Market Circle filled with vendors galore! I got to see what the market was like during a regular business day. People were selling things everywhere some in shops, some under small umbrellas, and others out in the sun. Here, the people did not bombard us with things to buy like back at the port, but watched us and let us choose freely and were very helpful in telling us about their products. We were really drawn to the Ghanaian fabric stores. Most of the fabrics were handmade comprised of vibrant colors and patterns and shapes stitched together and ready made. There were a lot of food vendors selling barbequed fish and other kinds of meat that looked very unappetizing for my taste.
People moved very slowly from shop to shop and throughout the market. I felt like we stood out mostly because we were so fast paced and were quickly moving from place to place. I found a very colorful bead shop and got two hand painted bracelets made for me with beads that the slaves used to trade with foreign merchants.
We didn’t have much time in the market because we had to meet up with the girls to pick them up from school. We left and went to a really nice part of town called Chapel Hill with larger gated houses on the hillside. We arrived right before students could leave, while Wang Fang went to get the girls, Rachel and I got to meet and talk with a kindergarten class. They were the most adorable and well behaved kids. They greeted us with hugs and laughter and were so curious to get to know us. We introduced ourselves and got to hear a little about them and their names and how old they were. When Wang Fang got back, we had a group of children glued to us who were refusing to let go. I really wanted to stay longer and play with them or teach them English but it was time for us to leave.
Louisa and Juliana, both middle school students were great guides for the rest of the day. They showed us the local radio station, informed us when it was appropriate to take out our cameras, and gave us a tour around Chapel Hill. After walking around the neighborhood, we took a cab back to the port to meet up with Juliana’s father so that he could show us around his boat.
We got to the port and Earnest, Juliana’s father, showed us around the tug boat that he operated, the same boat that had brought the MV Explorer into the port. I was genuinely interested in what he was showing us, where the cockpit was, the engine room, and a tour of the deck. He was so kind and was so knowledgeable on everything that we asked him. At the end of our tour he offered to take us to a local restaurant that his wife cooked at. We were very excited because this would be our first Ghanaian meal.
He took us to a local hotel outside of the city, where we got to meet Juliana’s younger sister and mother. They were so interested in learning about our travels and told us a lot about Ghana and about their family life. They talked about school and how they, like most Ghanaians really valued education. Juliana had seven other siblings, who all attended private schools. Like most Ghanaian families, Juliana’s really seemed to put everything extra that they had into their children and for their future
Soon, Juliana’s mother brought out Banku, a Ghanaian dish served with a thick spicy soup and fish and two doughy balls made from a grain called cassava. We ate the dish in the traditional way with our right hand. I was really concerned with the cleanliness of my hands, but I did not want to be disrespectful and ate with my hand, and soon really enjoyed it. They gave us a spoon to scoop up the soup, but most of the meal we ate with our hands. It was my first time eating with my hands but I was having so much fun doing it. When we were finished Juliana’s mother insisted that we not pay her, “You are guests,” she scolded. We were so thankful that Juliana’s family had shown us such generosity. We thanked her mother and promised to send their family a gift when we got home.
Earnest drove us to their home so that he could drop off his youngest daughter. I was a little bit nervous, it was already dusk and we were entering one of the very rural neighborhoods, but driving through and looking around at people, smiling and waving to them, I could tell that many were just good people. Earnest told us about his neighborhood and that there was hardly any crime, drugs, or violence. People lived so peacefully in these neighborhoods. He explained to us that the land was still controlled by kings and chiefs, who leased or sold land off to residents. I thought that it was really interesting the way that the Ghanaians incorporated the traditional ways of living into modern pace of life.
I didn’t get the sense that I was in any danger in this neighborhood. We soon pulled into their driveway, in the back of the rural neighborhood. Their house was massive with a well and even a cottage that Earnest had built. We got to go inside and meet most of Juliana’s older and younger siblings. They all asked Wang Fang to say different Chinese phrases, which I thought was really cute. It was getting really late so Earnest took us back to the port. On the ride back we talked a lot about Ghanaian communities and politics, and how the traditional chiefdom structure had an almost equal say in the community as the government. I thought that it was great that Ghana maintained such a good balance between culture and modernism.
We got back to the port and thanked Earnest for showing us around and taking us in for the day. It blew my mind again of the generosity that all of the people I had met in these countries had shown to me. We walked back to the ship and waved goodbye to Earnest.
When I got back to my cabin, by room mate was there waiting for me. “We’re leaving to go to the beach lodge at 9:30,” she said. We had made plans to go to a beach lodge for her birthday that night but were not sure if plans would fall through because we had not seen or heard from each other for two days. It was 8pm so I rushed to get everything I needed for the beach lodge. I was a little on the fence about leaving to a place that was an hour away late at night, but figured to just go with the flow and play everything by ear. We got to Timitz Square and our group of eight had doubled.
Oh my goodness I thought to myself. I really started to worry that things would not work out and that we would all get lost on the way out there. We left the ship and it was complete madness, we boarded a shuttle to take us to the end of the port and I talked with the driver to see if there was any way that he could get us a bus that would take us all out. He said no promises but he would see what he could do.
We pulled up to a bus on the street and the driver agreed to take us out to Safari Beach Lodge for a great price. I think that all of us were very relieved. It was like going to prom in a party bus all over again, but ten times better. We had such a great time together in the bus, not having a clue where we were going but praying that we would make it safe!
We drove in the dark through rural villages and bushes until we arrived at our destination. My roommate and I had booked an incredible beach villa for her birthday, but it was 12:00am when we got there and it looked like a ghost town. Me, Sarah, Erik, and our driver walked all over the property checking to see if there was a soul at the place, there was absolutely no one. We were really bummed because the lodge looked amazing, secluded overlooking the Atlantic Ocean! We went back to the chaos of the bus and told them that we would unfortunately have to turn back. Our driver protested and said that he knew of another beach lodge that wasn’t too far away at Busua beach.
We decided to take a chance. The drive was about a half an hour away and we arrived at 1am to wooden fence that read “Alaska Beach Lodge.” It was getting really late and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. We pulled into the quiet piece of property, and looked around from the bus and again saw no one in sight. We waited and walked around, until we heard a small voice “What’s all the commotion in the middle o’ de nite?” A tall woman approached us with medusa-like hair holding a bright lantern, “I’m soooo sorry to bother you so late, but can we stay here?” I asked. “Yes yes no problem no problem how many I show you where you can stay.” Uhh there’s seventeen of us…is that okay?” I replied. “Ohm wow, okay, okay come come follow me it’s aulright.” “My name is Sydney, thank you so much for letting us stay here so late I’m so sorry to bother you.” “No problem don’t worry, my name’s Patricia, I show you around.”
She led us to our rustic bungalows, rounded stone huts with thatched roof’s spread out across the property facing the ocean. Patricia went to get her co-worker Zach as we began to assemble into our three rooms split between the seventeen of us. The huts were very simple one with two bunk beds that looked like they could collapse at any minute, and the other two huts with two full beds. Patricia laid out a mattress on the floor for us and gave us extra blankets and pillows. We were so grateful that she had taken us in. It was already 2am, but our night was just beginning.
“Let me show you the beach!” Patricia motioned us to a beachfront patio with a bar and tables covered by loose fabric held up by wooden beams. There were hammocks suspended by coconut trees that helped to fence off the Alaska Beach Lodge property. Patricia explained to us that she was married to an Alaskan man and had been to Alaska twice. Although the lodge had no resemblance to Alaska whatsoever, she dedicated the name of the lodge to the man and the far away country that she had fallen in love with.
She and her co-worker turned all of the lights back on and opened everything back up for us, “Make yourself at home,” Patricia insisted. Zach started up a campfire for us on the beach and made the night absolutely perfect. We sang happy birthday to my roommate Sarah and rushed to the Ocean! It was my first time swimming in the Atlantic Ocean and there was no better way to be swimming in it than under the stars being pushed by the currents watching the glowing campfire.
I woke up to the next morning to a group of people singing in an African dialect on the beach. It was so nice to wake up and run out and greet the ocean again, something that I hadn’t done in a really long time, it reminded me of home. The beach was gorgeous in the morning, stretching out for miles down a deserted coast. I skimmed the beach to see where the singing was coming from and noticed a fishing boat connected to rope with people on shore who were singing and pulling the boat in closer and closer. I jumped in the water to clean myself off from the previous night and walked along to where the locals were on the beach. When I got there, they were just on their last tug to bringing in their fishing net. I was so interested in the way that they fished and how they collectively worked together to pull in the boat and the fishing net.
Once they everything was brought back to shore, the locals gathered around the net to see what they had caught for their morning catch. I motioned to ask if it was okay that I gathered with them and take pictures. They approved and were very welcoming and seemed happy to have my company. I watched as they picked through the fish they wanted and tossed them into large metal bowls and distributed the fish to different people. They all worked very well together and I did not see anyone complaining about who got more or less fish. They asked if I wanted to help them sort through the fish, but I politely refused.
I continued my way down the beach to a stream and on my way met a local named Nathanel. We talked about the lifestyle of the Busua beach community, how everyone looked out for one another and how they relied on fishing to support both their income and food supply for their families. I really respected their lifestyle and wished that some of their ways of life could somehow trickle down onto western ideals.
The rest of the day, I took the time to indulge in the leisure time that come with the perks of traveling. I have been keeping my head just above water this semester stacking myself with workload after workload, so it felt really nice to just let go and relax in the most peaceful scenery. Many other SAS students joined us at the beach, it was nice we got to know each other off of the ship and socialize on land. Local children began to check us out, and were very curious to get to know us. At first they were very shy, but we soon could not keep away from us. We played with them for the rest of the day, giving them piggyback rides, teaching them how to take pictures with our cameras, and running with them up and down the beach. They were so full of energy and were just the most happy and bright kids.
We had a great time on the beach with them, and as sunset started to approach we realized that the next fishing boat was on its way in. The children pulled over to their parents who were helping to pull in the fishing boat and insisted that we help out. They taught us the songs and chants that they were singing as we helped to pull in the catch. We tried to copy their beautiful tones and harmony but it was nearly impossible, but fun anyway. It was a lot harder than I had expected to pull in the boat even with lots of help and manpower. We chanted and sang and continued to play with the children and pull in the boat. Soon, just a few more yanks and we had the boat and the fishing net on shore! Everyone gathered around the boat to see what they had caught. We all felt a sense of accomplishment and part of the catch. The locals let us help them sort out the fish into the bowls thanked us for our hard work and help. It was really fun to have been a part of their traditional way of fishing.
As soon as we turned to head back to the lodge it was dark could see nothing else but the lights from the beach patio of the Alaska Beach lodge in front of us. It had been a really great day for all of us, but we were soon having trouble keeping our eyes open any longer. We soon called it a night early for once.
We were awakened early the next morning by a thunderstorm on the beach. I insisted that everyone wake up and come out to watch it with me. It my first time ever seeing lightening on the beach, it was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. I got cozy in one of the hammocks and laid back and reflected on my time in Ghana as I watched and listened to the thunder and lightening dance across the sky. I knew then that I would return to Africa, to one day learn more about their rich way of life, and give back to them in a constructive way.
We left the Alaska Beach Lodge soon after and headed back to the ship. On the way back, I wished that I could have stayed in Ghana for a month longer. I had seen and observed so much while I was there, of a world much more complex yet simplistic than what we are used to in the West. I managed to break down barriers that I had built up coming into Ghana; my stereotypes of the country, and my reactions to what I was seeing around me. I think that Africa is place that everyone should visit at least once in their life, because in it you will find some of the most amazing remnants of culture, lifestyle, and language that are almost untainted by the modern world, something that is really hard to find in this day and age.
We pulled up to a bus on the street and the driver agreed to take us out to Safari Beach Lodge for a great price. I think that all of us were very relieved. It was like going to prom in a party bus all over again, but ten times better. We had such a great time together in the bus, not having a clue where we were going but praying that we would make it safe!
We drove in the dark through rural villages and bushes until we arrived at our destination. My roommate and I had booked an incredible beach villa for her birthday, but it was 12:00am when we got there and it looked like a ghost town. Me, Sarah, Erik, and our driver walked all over the property checking to see if there was a soul at the place, there was absolutely no one. We were really bummed because the lodge looked amazing, secluded overlooking the Atlantic Ocean! We went back to the chaos of the bus and told them that we would unfortunately have to turn back. Our driver protested and said that he knew of another beach lodge that wasn’t too far away at Busua beach.
We decided to take a chance. The drive was about a half an hour away and we arrived at 1am to wooden fence that read “Alaska Beach Lodge.” It was getting really late and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. We pulled into the quiet piece of property, and looked around from the bus and again saw no one in sight. We waited and walked around, until we heard a small voice “What’s all the commotion in the middle o’ de nite?” A tall woman approached us with medusa-like hair holding a bright lantern, “I’m soooo sorry to bother you so late, but can we stay here?” I asked. “Yes yes no problem no problem how many I show you where you can stay.” Uhh there’s seventeen of us…is that okay?” I replied. “Ohm wow, okay, okay come come follow me it’s aulright.” “My name is Sydney, thank you so much for letting us stay here so late I’m so sorry to bother you.” “No problem don’t worry, my name’s Patricia, I show you around.”
She led us to our rustic bungalows, rounded stone huts with thatched roof’s spread out across the property facing the ocean. Patricia went to get her co-worker Zach as we began to assemble into our three rooms split between the seventeen of us. The huts were very simple one with two bunk beds that looked like they could collapse at any minute, and the other two huts with two full beds. Patricia laid out a mattress on the floor for us and gave us extra blankets and pillows. We were so grateful that she had taken us in. It was already 2am, but our night was just beginning.
“Let me show you the beach!” Patricia motioned us to a beachfront patio with a bar and tables covered by loose fabric held up by wooden beams. There were hammocks suspended by coconut trees that helped to fence off the Alaska Beach Lodge property. Patricia explained to us that she was married to an Alaskan man and had been to Alaska twice. Although the lodge had no resemblance to Alaska whatsoever, she dedicated the name of the lodge to the man and the far away country that she had fallen in love with.
She and her co-worker turned all of the lights back on and opened everything back up for us, “Make yourself at home,” Patricia insisted. Zach started up a campfire for us on the beach and made the night absolutely perfect. We sang happy birthday to my roommate Sarah and rushed to the Ocean! It was my first time swimming in the Atlantic Ocean and there was no better way to be swimming in it than under the stars being pushed by the currents watching the glowing campfire.
I woke up to the next morning to a group of people singing in an African dialect on the beach. It was so nice to wake up and run out and greet the ocean again, something that I hadn’t done in a really long time, it reminded me of home. The beach was gorgeous in the morning, stretching out for miles down a deserted coast. I skimmed the beach to see where the singing was coming from and noticed a fishing boat connected to rope with people on shore who were singing and pulling the boat in closer and closer. I jumped in the water to clean myself off from the previous night and walked along to where the locals were on the beach. When I got there, they were just on their last tug to bringing in their fishing net. I was so interested in the way that they fished and how they collectively worked together to pull in the boat and the fishing net.
Once they everything was brought back to shore, the locals gathered around the net to see what they had caught for their morning catch. I motioned to ask if it was okay that I gathered with them and take pictures. They approved and were very welcoming and seemed happy to have my company. I watched as they picked through the fish they wanted and tossed them into large metal bowls and distributed the fish to different people. They all worked very well together and I did not see anyone complaining about who got more or less fish. They asked if I wanted to help them sort through the fish, but I politely refused.
I continued my way down the beach to a stream and on my way met a local named Nathanel. We talked about the lifestyle of the Busua beach community, how everyone looked out for one another and how they relied on fishing to support both their income and food supply for their families. I really respected their lifestyle and wished that some of their ways of life could somehow trickle down onto western ideals.
The rest of the day, I took the time to indulge in the leisure time that come with the perks of traveling. I have been keeping my head just above water this semester stacking myself with workload after workload, so it felt really nice to just let go and relax in the most peaceful scenery. Many other SAS students joined us at the beach, it was nice we got to know each other off of the ship and socialize on land. Local children began to check us out, and were very curious to get to know us. At first they were very shy, but we soon could not keep away from us. We played with them for the rest of the day, giving them piggyback rides, teaching them how to take pictures with our cameras, and running with them up and down the beach. They were so full of energy and were just the most happy and bright kids.
We had a great time on the beach with them, and as sunset started to approach we realized that the next fishing boat was on its way in. The children pulled over to their parents who were helping to pull in the fishing boat and insisted that we help out. They taught us the songs and chants that they were singing as we helped to pull in the catch. We tried to copy their beautiful tones and harmony but it was nearly impossible, but fun anyway. It was a lot harder than I had expected to pull in the boat even with lots of help and manpower. We chanted and sang and continued to play with the children and pull in the boat. Soon, just a few more yanks and we had the boat and the fishing net on shore! Everyone gathered around the boat to see what they had caught. We all felt a sense of accomplishment and part of the catch. The locals let us help them sort out the fish into the bowls thanked us for our hard work and help. It was really fun to have been a part of their traditional way of fishing.
As soon as we turned to head back to the lodge it was dark could see nothing else but the lights from the beach patio of the Alaska Beach lodge in front of us. It had been a really great day for all of us, but we were soon having trouble keeping our eyes open any longer. We soon called it a night early for once.
We were awakened early the next morning by a thunderstorm on the beach. I insisted that everyone wake up and come out to watch it with me. It my first time ever seeing lightening on the beach, it was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. I got cozy in one of the hammocks and laid back and reflected on my time in Ghana as I watched and listened to the thunder and lightening dance across the sky. I knew then that I would return to Africa, to one day learn more about their rich way of life, and give back to them in a constructive way.
We left the Alaska Beach Lodge soon after and headed back to the ship. On the way back, I wished that I could have stayed in Ghana for a month longer. I had seen and observed so much while I was there, of a world much more complex yet simplistic than what we are used to in the West. I managed to break down barriers that I had built up coming into Ghana; my stereotypes of the country, and my reactions to what I was seeing around me. I think that Africa is place that everyone should visit at least once in their life, because in it you will find some of the most amazing remnants of culture, lifestyle, and language that are almost untainted by the modern world, something that is really hard to find in this day and age.
my first look at this blog and i was like, "sheesh this is so long!" but i really enjoyed reading it, it's so interesting the way you tell your stories of travel! ghana sounds really interesting too, im glad you got a lot out of the place :)
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