Six days until the end of the trip - Bolgatanga
We had a plan to go up to Blogatanga and the bus was all booked. However, this is Ghana and stuff happens unexpectedly. As Rob says, the only predictable thing about Ghana is it’s unpredictability. The night before we were set to leave for Bolgatanga, the driver called and tried to charge twice as much, which is something that Blue Kitabu could not do. Zanny and Elizabeth were about to give up, but we begged them to at least go to Cape Coast tomorrow and try to find another van to take us. We really wanted to see the north.. We knew it was a slim chance, and so we were super excited when we got a call the next morning at 6am that they had found us a bus and that it was coming to get us, so hurry and pack. We rushed around and assembled everything we would need for four days in the north. We boarded to bus in the best, happiest spirits, even though it was before 7am.
The unprediability hit again. We stopped to go pee and the bus broke down. It wouldn’t start up again. I had just taken a sleeping pill in preparation for the 16 hour drive, and so my head was foggy and all I wanted to do was sleep, but we had to get out of the bus because it started filling with gas fumes. We sat by the side of the road, and I was impressed by how cheery we all were. We placed bets on when we would be up and running again, and played cards and made jokes. The boys climbed on top of the bus to look around. Isabel and I read books in the forest. It was fun for a bit. Then we started getting discouraged. After two and a half hours, Zanny points out that it is already past midday, and if we continue, the bus is likely to break down again, and since we still have 14 hours ahead of us, we would have to drive through the night with the chance of a breakdown. She said it was a liability and dangerous. But then the bus turned on and seemed to be okay. So she presented us two options --- go north 2 hours to Kumasi and then try to find public transportation from there for the remaining 12 hour trip, or go south 2 hours and stay in a luxurious beach hotel for the last weekend. She told us to do a silent vote, so everyone wrote either north or south on their paper. She counted it out and we had unanimously decided to go north. I was really proud of our adventourous spirit. It would have been so easy to go to the beach and chill for a weekend but no one was willing ti gi the easy route. I wanted to see the elephants and have an adventure, even if it meant not an easy one.
We got lucky. Our bus lasted us until Kumasi. Miraculously, once in Kumasi, Zanny found us a bus and driver willing to go to Bolgatanga with us for the weekend. It was a nice air conditioned bus just for us, instead of a rickety death trap shared with sweaty people. I have never been so thankful for a bus.
We drove and drove and drove.
I slept most of the trip. At one point I woke up because the bus kept swerving and I was worried that the driver was falling asleep.. It was 2am by this point. Zanny went up and sat in the passenageer seat to try to talk to him and keep him awake. He didn’t speak any English but he grunted back at her so I guess it helped. We got really turned around when we were near the hotel. We couldn’t find it anywhere. Zanny called and asked them where it was and they said they would send a person out to the main road. Soon we saw a young boy on a bike with a flashlight. We followed him onto a dirt road through shrubbery. It looked like we were going into the wilderness --- no signs, no houses, nothing. I thought of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Eco Resort
Then we came up a a collection of mud huts. We were at our hotel. It’s an eco resort so it’s meant to give guests a genuine Ghanaian experience. After 18 hours on a bus though I was dismayed to see there was no electricity, no running water, and we had to sleep in a stuffy, hotter-than-hades mud hut. All five girls in a tiny hot hut. I was dirty from traveling and grouchy and not happy to be there. Grumpy, I claimed a bed and fell asleep.
The next morning was a different story. I awoke early, as the sun was just beginning to rise. The place looked charming in the daylight --- very simple and rustic but clean and well-cared for. I “took a shower” by filling up a metal tin bucket with fresh water from a clay goard using hollowed out cocoanuts. Then I brought the bucket into a small mud cubicle. It was just high enough to cover all of my body but I could still see over the wall. I enjoyed looking out over the savannah. It was a very different landscape than in the Central Region, where we were staying. It was dry, hot with few trees and lots of bushes. I could see for miles. There were goats, cattle, chicken, and some farmers. I felt peaceful taking my bucket shower there and I felt sooo much better being clean. After the shower, we sat down to breakfast and they served us coffee, bread and peanut butter (groundnut cream they call it) and then the best part --- eggs with onions and peppers. It was so good. I enjoyed the eggs a lot and felt really happy about everything again.
After lunch we split up into two groups – half went fishing in the traditional African way while the other half went to make shea butter. I always feel sad for the fishes when I fish, so I decided to make shea butter.
Each group had two guides. The main hotel guy explained that the village all came together to build the Green House Guest House (our hotel). The hotel employed guides to show us the local way of life and offered classes like drumming, dancing, weaving, story-telling, and others. This region in Ghana experienes rampant poverty and he explained that the guesthouse was a way for the village to earn an income while preserving their traditional way of life. Extra money from the hotel went to scholarships for kids in the community to go to senior high school. The whole project was run by Ghanianas which I thought was really cool. There was a Dutch couple staying there to help out too as volunteers but you could tell that the village took ownership of the guesthouse. What a cool business model.
African Herbal Remedies
So we went out to explore. The guide showed us different plants they use as remedies for various ailments. For example, fresh cow dung is spread onm the forehead to get rid of a headache. No joke. We laughed when he said that, thinking it was a joke, but he was serious. Other plants help reduce fever if you bathe in the water of them. Some ward off mosquitos. Others you combine into a paste to help children stop their diarrhea. Lots of different uses. Some seemed legit, like the mosquito one which had a pungent distinctive smell, others seemed supersititious like the plant you boiled, bath your kid in, and turn him into a fighter.
Shea Butter Making
After the herbal tour, we came upon a collection of five mud huts and a herd of cattle grazing. He introduced us to ome of the villagers, none of which spoke English besides welcome but they smiled a lot. They showed us how they pick the shea butter fruit and let us try it. It was like a small sweet avocado. Not much fruit and what it did have was green and mushy, but with a pretty decent taste. We ate a couple. Then we went back to the huts and they showed us how they dry the nut after eating the fruit. Then they roast it, then they crack the shell of the nut and get rid of the fiberous shelll. They use the shells, ombined with water as fertilizer. Then they let the nut dry. Then they pound it into smaller chunks and cook it over the fire. It smells good at this point, kind of like chocolate bread. Then they take that and bring it to a tree truck that has been partially holloiwd out. Three people pound the pieces in a rhythm the produce a chunky oily mush. It takes a long time and is a lot of work. We tried it and got tired without like a minute. The Africans are soooo much stronger than I will ever be. Then they bring the oily mush back to the huts and pound it with a rock against another rock. They pound and pound until the chunks of pounded away and a brown liquid remains. Then they take that and add water and pound it again. They mix it and slam it with their hands, like making bread but much more aggressively. They do that for an hour, then they take the mush which has taken on a frothy, whipped cream look and pour lots of fresh water over it. They pour and mix until light brown solids float to the top. This is the oil. They skim it off, and drain the brown liquid. The liquid they pour onto their roofs and walls to make them waterproof, which explains how the mud and grass huts stay dry and intact even in heavy rain. So then they take the light brown solids and make it with water again. When the water turns brown, they drain away the water and add fresh water. They continue this process until the solids have lost almost all of their brown color. Next the solids are takput into a pot and put over the stove to cook. The solids, which is all fat, slowly melt on the fire. When it is all melted, white oil floats on top and brown stays below. With a metal spoon, they take the top layer of the oil and put it aside. That oil hardens overnight to become shea butter. What a process right?
It was interesting to watch. We got to try each of the steps and it took a lot of patience. I was amazed by how patie nt the woman was; she spent all day doing this. I got bored within a few minutes. But I guess she doesn’t have the luxury of being bored; this is her livelihood.
We bought some shea butter from her this morning. The whole days work produced two jam jars worth of shea butter, which she sold us for 5 cedi each. A whole day of manual labor for 10 cedi or 7 dollars. Wow.
After the shea butter, we came back to eat. I felt lightheaded from not enough water and sick from stomach problems so I didn’t eat. We got on a bus to go to Bolgatanga – our air conditioned little home for the weekend. Air conditioning felt so nice. We went to Bolgatanga where we met with a Ghanaian woman who started an NGO to help women find alternative types of livelihood options. She showed us something alarming – out of 1,110 students in the district that took the BECE exam that year, only 98 earned scores high enough to place them in a senior high school. The rest of the students fell into territory that was either passing but not good enough for the limited number of slots, or just failed entirely. Her organization offers remedial classes to students who fail the BECE so they can retake it and their failure doesn’t have to mean the end of their educational career. Interesting. She said that child marriages were a huge problem in the north with marriages as young as 9 and more common around 15. She also said that female genital cutting was still big in the area. Some things to think about. Also she said that if a child from the north gets into a senior high school in the north, the government will help pay for all or part of their education. But all of the good schools are in the south of Ghana. Interesting.
After the seminar we walked around Bolgatanga. We only had like 45 minutes though to see the whole city so it was a bit rushed but we found some cool leather sho
Later that night we got back for dinner. I was stoked to try my herbal soup but when I got it, it was really weird. It had bitter stringy leaves in it and strange crunches I couldn’t recognize plus a pervasive fishy taste and some kind of awkward cream in it. It was pretty awful. I didn’t eat any of it, even though I was starving. Lorenzo gave me some of his dinner, offering to split it. I didn’t want to eat his food, so I had a few bites and figured I would be fine. I’m not in danger of starving and I didn’t want to complain.
Storytime
After dinner, we gathered around the fire to listen to story telling. They had the village priest come to tell us ancient African stories, proverbs, and taboos. He talked really slowly and I found my mind wandering at times, but there were some interesting ones. The one I had very mixed feelings about was the lion’s milk one. It goes like this:
The was a couple in Africa. The woman felt like her husband was not giving her all of his love and she worried that he would take up a second wife (polygamy is big here). She went to her mother and asked what to do. The mother said she would help if the daughter went to get the milk of a lion. The daughter said that was impossible but the mother insisted it could be done. So the woman went into the jungle and slowly tamed a lion over three months by bringing it meat, spending money on luxuries for it, and being gentle. Finally the lion accepted the woman as a friend and the woman milked her. The daughter brought the milk back and the mother said, ah you’ve learned your lesson. Now do that with your husband abnd you will be happy.
That was where the storyteller ended the stor. I was pretty unclear how milking a lion related to marriage so I asked. He said that the woman needed to learn patience and that eventually the husband would show her some love. The woman just needed to wait and be gentle and in some months, the man would probably show his love for her.
What kind of message is that? You think your husband is cheating, and your mom says, oh just wait it out? That’s awful. She doesn’t deserve that. Casey had a different intrepretatuion, meaning that he thought the story meant she needed to just be patient and assured that he loved her and he would show it in his own time. Either way, I’m not really a fan of the story.
After that we left Bolgatanga and headed to Mole National Park. We went to get a drink at the cantina when someone came by running, “There is a elephant!” We went running and there it was, 30 feet away, a giant African elephant. It was so cool. We noticed then that there were like six elephants all in a clump eating. I was beyond excited to see elephants in their natural habit. They crossed the road in front of us and we all got some pictures of them.
That morning we decided to go on a canoe ride . The ride supports a whole eco village that offers traditional classes and performances for tourists in order to earn an income. Before Mole National Park was created, the people poached the animals for meat and valuables, but since it is a preserve now the people need another income generating activity. The canoe ride is an example of that. It was really cool, we got into two large wooden canoes and each had two African men who paddled us around. It was kind of like exploring the Everglades but more relaxed since we didn’t actually do any of the exercise of paddling. It was relaxing to hear the water splashing on the boat and the oars gently pushing us through the water. We didn’t see any animals besides some brightly colored birds but that was fine with me, I just enjoyed being on the water. We all came back very relaxed and happy.
Safari
That afternoon, we headed up to the info center where they explained that we would be doing a walking safari. The benefit of that is that we get to be closer to the animal than a driving one and we can wander anywhere in the reserve to follow an animal, we weren’t contained to one path. Also since we were quieter than a car, we would probably see more. I never felt worried for my safety. The animals are all scared of humans and lions don’t really come out in that area.
We saw a TON of animals. We saw a water buck with long horns that went straight out from his head. We saw many deer-like creatures and antelope. And elephants, so many elephants. They weren’t even rare. The coolest moment was watching one elephant eat the salt lick, which is a mineral rich area of soil that naimals go to and lick in order to get additional nutrients. We got to watch the elephant just lick at the salt lick, and since he was busy, he let us get really close to him. I asked the guide if he had a name, which the guide said no, not yet. I decided to name him Elmer and told the guide to pass it along. He laughed and said he would. We stood and watched Elmer for a while until Elmer got bored and lumbered off. So cool.
The whole safari was such a neat experience. I felt like I was one with the animals. We just crept along, as vulnerable as they are (minus the shotgun our guide had). I liked being on level with the animals -- it felt more authentic than riding around on a big car like at the zoo. The hike wasn’t strenuous and animals were everywhere. Pretty much everywhere we looked there were cool large animals, some smaller ones, and some birds. It was like a zoo, but nothing was caged. I tried not to get fixated behind my camera because I wanted to make sure that I enjoyed the experience. How many times in your life can you say that you walked around wild African elephants?
That’s how I feel about a lot of my trip. There have been so many cool experiences. Like when we all piled mattresses on top of the roof of the mud yurt (sp?) and slept under the stars listening to the savannah noises. Or when an elephant rumbled by our room.
Baboon in the Bus
After the safari we got dressed up and ate dinner together for our last real night together. On our way to dinner someone told us that a baboon was in our bus so we all went running to the bus. I guess the driver had left one of the windows cracked and there was indeed a baboon chowing down on our gorp, happy as can be. When it saw us, it looked at us like a little kid who’s just been caught doing something bad, and bolted out the window, but not before swipping Casey’s handwipes. I laughed so hard to see the baboon running off with baby wipes in its mouth that tears came out of my eyes. What a sight.
That night was fun, bonding with the other fellows. The next morning we woke up early and boarded to bus for the long, long trip home. We talked for a while, made friendship bracelets, read books. At the right junction, Isabel got off the bus to go her own way. She’s the very independent one that grew up in the Amazon jungle and spent two months meditating with monks in San Francisco before the trip. All of us were really inspired by her; she had unlimited empathy and understanding for everyone she met. I have never met anyone like her. Anyway, she got off because she’s staying an extra two weeks to travel around on her own and explore more. It was hard to say goodbye to her, for all of us, because we were a bit worried about her being on her own in this random village. Also, we were sad because she lives in New York, like Casey, so we may not see her again for some time.
After a sad goodbye, we settled in for the next leg of the trip. We took shifts having the back row of the bus (five seats all in a row makes a great bed), so when it was 1pm, it was Lorenzo’s and my shift. I got all settled in and fell right asleep, only to be wakened up by the other fellows saying, “Oh my god, I think he’s getting arrested.”
Encounter with the Police
Not a good way to wake up. I look out my window and our bus driver, Holiday, is yelling at two police officers. Pretty soon, they push Holiday against the bus, right under my window. He struggles as they try to pin his hands behind his back. Holiday is like 60+ years old, and there are two big young guys so he didn’t stand a chance. They dragged him over to their police car kicking and screaming. Old man put up a strong fight. They shoved him into the car so brutally it looked like his back was breaking. Then they start to drive away, and Holiday kicks the door open trying to escape. They roughly push him back in and drive off.
Meanwhile all of us have no idea what just happened. No one knows why our bus driver has been taken or where he is going. At this point too, there are fifty Ghanaians including 30 school children surrounding our bus screaming. We don’t know if there are on our side or his or the police, and Zanny snaps at us to stay in the bus and not move. One Ghanaian who speaks English pushes to the front and asked why our driver was taken. We tell him that we have no idea. Zanny said that she thinks he was going about 20 kilometers over the speed limit but that can’t be the real reason. We’ve picked up two German guys on our bus so they go with Zanny to sort out what is going on. They walk over to the other police standing at the check point and the police apparently have no clue either why their colleagues just took our bus driver.
We wait for about a half hour. Then the guy who came over to speak to us offers to take Zanny and one German on his motorcycle to the police station and so she leaves. I think about all the bad things that could happen to Zanny, just hopping on a strangers motorcycle with no idea where she is going, and headed to a police station that could do anything they wanted to her. I was worried, for sure.
We wait around talking about what might have happened. Some people say that they saw him get stopped at the last police checkpoint but just drive through so maybe he was in trouble for evading the law? Others said that he seemed to be driving too fast. Others said maybe he was wanted for another crime and the police just happened to find him now. Most people said that Holiday was probably taken because he is driving a whole bus full of white people, and the police officers might be pressing him to pay a bribe. Most of us agreed that a bribe was at least part of the motivation.
An hour or so later, Zanny, Holiday, the German, and the nice Ghanaian man return. Nothing is sad as Holiday boards the bus and we all drive away. It is dead silent. Finally I ask Zanny, “Well… what happened?” She said that he was stopped for speeding at the first checkpoint but didn’t stop so at the second one he was arrested. She said Holiday will take us to Kumasi as planned but he has to go to court right after to argue his case. Hmm. Lorenzo and Casey are convinced that we had to pay a bribe and Zanny didn’t want us to know, but who knows. Case solved I guess.
So that was exciting. It also put a bit of a crimp into our plans because now we were two hours behind schedule. We drove and drove for hours until we reached Kumasi where we stopped to stretch our legs, buy some street food for dinner, and get a new bus to take us home. We didn’t get home until 12:30 that night and we were all starving so we quickly ate cold rice and vegetable curry. We had our final meeting where Elizabeth, Alex, Zanny, and Jonathon (our leaders for the trip) said their goodbyes to us and told us what a good group we were. We thanked them for leading us and being there for anything we needed. It was a bit sad.
After that, we realized we still needed to clean the whole house and pack, and it was already 2am, and we had to leave at 6am the next morning. We split up all the different chores and went to work. I had toilet scrubbing which was fine with me, better than the dishes. After an hour or so of mopping, dusting, sanitizing, wiping, etc. we got started packing. Packing was slow because we all wanted to be together and socialize, not be separate. The group was pretty small at this point since Aron and Lauren had left last week, Liz had left a couple of days ago, and Isabel had gotten off the bus earlier that day. It was just Rob, Lane, Casey, Divya, James, Lorenzo, and I. Divya, James, and Rob all fell asleep but Casey, Lane, Lorenzo and I stayed up and packed together. We pulled our mattresses on the floor and mad a mega-bed like we had in Bolgatanga. We made a pack to stay up all night so we talked. It was our last night there, which was really sad. At around 5:30am everyone got really tired and fell asleep only to wake up 30 minutes later by our alarm. Casey and Lorenzo went to go get a Tro Tro for us while Lane and I finished packing. They got one really quickly and the Tro Tro was at our house 20 minutes later. We woke everyone else up and loaded our suitcases in the car, which was a lot since everyone had two giant suitcases plus their carryon.
We took the Tro Tro to Cape Coast because everyone had different errands. Some people needed to withdraw money, others to exchange it at the ForEx (foreign exchange booth), others to pick up things. I went to go break the bills I had into smaller ones and stopped by Baobab house on the way back. Baobab was our hangout spot in Cape Coast where we got real coffee (only place in Ghana I found that had real coffee, everywhere else only served instant Nescafe coffee) and yummy vegetarian snacks. The place is run by German volunteers and the money from it goes to support a local vocational school. We become friends with the Germans and he gave me free coffee to thank me for being a good customer and friend. Aw.
So then we loaded up on a bus and headed to Accra. We got to the Rising Phoenix, our favorite place in Accra. It’s this great hippie place decorated in bright colors, on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The room are super basic with a shared bathroom, but the people are so friendly. They recognized us from the last time and came out to give us hugs and help us with our bags. Rob, Lorenzo, and Lane weren’t leaving until the next day so they got a hotel room together and the rest of us put our things in there. We got lunch together (veggie wrap and a mango smoothie) and then we went to the Cultural Center where we got last minute gifts. I got some cool things for my family there including a small drum for Bram that the guy carved right there for me. I choose the symbol for courage (two crossing swords) and also had the guy add Bram’s name.
After shopping for gifts, we had an hour to hang out, so I took a shower and put on my last clean outfit I had saved just for this trip. Saying goodbye was really tough. Lane started crying and most of us were really teary-eyed. The taxi cab to the airport with Casey and Divya was a quiet, solemn one. Saying goodbye was not bittersweet, it was just bitter. I wasn’t ready to leave the group. After spending every hour together, including sleep ones (with the girls at least), and doing all of these cool experiences together, we had become really close. I’ve only been at home for less than 24 hours and already I miss them all.
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