I am realizing at the moment that I am typing this that I am too far behind in my blogging than I should be. So I am going ot do my best to combine the last two legs of my journey, since unfortunately there wasn't much adventure.
So I bought a bus ticket for 120,000 cedis to Sunyani from Wa, which isn't too far away. Anyway, I should have asked for a refund. I was sitting in the very back of the bus. I had no leg room. I couldn't sit with my back against my seat because the man sitting next to me was too large. (Let me explain the bus has a line of seats along each window with an aisle in the middle except for in the back row where it sat five people all the way across uncomfortably) Also, the A/C didn't work at all, but instead blew hot air. Fortunately for me, there was a window that opened right next to me. This came in handy once we got to the unpaved road. Almost as soon as we began down this long stretch of unpaved road dust started filtering in through the front of the bus. Before long, everyone was coughing, wiping their faces with handkerchiefs, or just complaining. Luckily I could send some of the dust out my back window, but I was covered with it.
Anyway, after a brief stop for refreshment and another stop to aid a broken down bus. A man sitting in front of me began to talk to me. The usual quesitons at first, "Where are you from? What are you doing here?" But then it got bad...really bad. I noticed that he was reading the autobiography of Malcom X and knew what was coming. He started asking me if I have traveled to other countries and I mentioned the ones I have visited. He then told me that he thinks I am Mexican. He said he could tell by the way that I talk. I couldn't believe it. I told him that I was born in the U.S. and have Irish heritage. "No. I think you are Mexican." His confident response was infuriating and hilarious at the same time. I hoped that he would stop talking to me, but then he dropped the bomb. "Do you know who this man is?" , pointing to his book. "Yes I do." And from there it went wild. This foolish man was telling me the history of my country and making even more ridiculous statements. I will tell you a few. "Lincoln cars in the states because they have the name Lincoln." "A Lincoln Navigator costs $500,000." "Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was a hypocrite and nothing compared to Malcolm X." "What country will be the next world power? AFRICA!" "Robert Mugabe is the best African leader since Kwame Nkrumah!" and last but not least "The U.S. is colonizing Japan."
This abusrd argument ended abruptly when I screamed at the bus driver to stop nd let me off. We were in Sunyani. The bus was going to continue all the way to Accra, but not me, not with that fool on the bus! Of all the things I wanted to say to this man all I could think of was,"Keep on truckin'!" I laughed out loud as I stumbled down the aisle and off the bus. I didn't look back once, but made my way downtown and eventually into a taxi.
I decided to stay an extra day again in Sunyani with Br James and Br. Raymond. We had a good time chatting about my trip and all the adventures. On my last day with them we went to mass and then I was off on a 207 to Kumasi. From Kumasi I would have to find another car going to Cape Coast.
The trip into Kumasi didn't take long at all, but once we got into the city our driver stopped every minute to drop someone off. I yelled out loud,"This is ridiculous!" I grabbed my bag and jumped out of the bus and ran for the nearest street corner. The man sitting next to me joined me and we grabbed the first taxi to Kjetia Station in the middle of the city's booming market place.
30 minutes later I was on my way back to Cape Coast packed into the very middle seat of this giant purple bus. All the way back to Cape Coast without being able to lean back in my seat. All the way back to Cape Coast down the horrible road that was still being constructed. I LOVED IT ALL OF IT!
I remember finally getting off the bus at Agrey Junction and looking around at the familiar scene and thinking to myself, "You did it." I had just completed one of the most memorbaly experiences of my life!
"The Recap" - August 29th
Morning came. I slept in until about 7am. I was hoping that I wouldn't run into the manager when I left my room to see what kind of day I had in front of me. When I entered the t.v. room there he was collapsed on the couch with two empty bottles of beer on the table in front of him. He was drunk. But he was freshly drunk. The man had been drinking already that morning. He addressed me and I told him that I was just going outside to do some writing.
Of course, he followed me. He didn't mind disturbing me at all, I guess writing isn't important to him since he cannot neither read nor write. He kept telling me that he was a poor man and made the most pathetic puppy dog face. I could understand about every third word that he said, but laughing, nodding, and saying YO! was enough to get past him. He didn't really want to listen to me at all, but rather talk and talk. It was one of the most uncomfortable conversations I have ever sat through.
I was very relieved when a man came out of the t.v. room to join us. Immediately the attention of the drunk manager was diverted to this man. I learned very soon that he was actually a paramount chief of the Tumu area in the Upper West Region, the highest position a chief can have among his area. In other words, he was a big man! He was very pleasant to speak with and was keen to speak with me. I enjoyed his company very much seeing as how he could speak English very well. I told him about myself and my purpose in Ghana and made sure to hide nothing. It was an honor to be in his presence.
I just kept wondering what he was doing at this terrible hotel. A question that became even more important when I learned there was another chief traveling with the paramount chief and was staying at the hotel also.
Before I knew it I was sitting with two chiefs and one drunk hotel and manager out on the veranda. A shabby looking poor man came into view and the manager told him to sit and wait until he is called. It turned out that there was some kind of argument the previous night between this shabby man, the manager and the paramount chief. The shabby man, in a belligerent state, had insulted the manager after disobeying the request of the paramount chief. HE WAS IN BIG TROUBLE!
I didn't realize that I was sitting amongst the judges that were deciding what should be down about this man. They talked and talked and talked about this incident and how they felt disrespected. Finally, it was time for these great men to pass judgement. The deliberation climaxed with the paramount chief asking the shabby man to apologize to the hotel manager. I couldn't believe it! I was expecting a slap in the face or something exreme, but instead it was just a simple apology, which the manager refused because he thought the man didn't actually mean it. It was very serious business of course.
After that whole ordeal we had a couple hard boiled eggs and some sodas and spoke of other things. Eventually, the chiefs had to leave for a meeting with the Inspector General of Police and I was going to explore Wa. I walked out of the hotel and down the street with the Chiefs who received many greetings from those who recognized them. We parted ways and I walked down a street that I didn't know.
I came to a large and fairly modern looking mosque and stood there for a while debating whether or not I should try and find the Imam. I decided against it and continued walking through the streets. My presence went unnoticed for the most part. People were just going about their business and not minding me at all. It was nice.
The sky was looking ominous and I could already here echoing thunder in the distance and I realized that my explorations had better speed up. I waved down a taxi and asked the driver if he could take me to Nakori and back. After reading about the ancient mud and stick mosque there I decided I would go and visit it.
We drove for a short while South and out of the city limits until we approached the village. The mosque stood at about two and a half stories high. It was easy to spot I can say that. To make a long story short. People were amazed to see me visiting there, apparently not many travelers stop there. I made my way up to the mosque right when it began to rain. I asked the Imam, who was sitting in front of the mosque moving his prayer beads slowly through his very dry and callused hands, if I could enter the Mosque and perhaps climb onto the roof. He was very welcoming and led the way up to the roof. The view was very nice except for the rain which was coming down steadily now. I made sure to thank him and I gave him a small bi of money for his troubles and jumped back into the taxi with my impatient driver.
Because of the rain I was stuck in my hotel for the rest of the day. Before I went to Nakori I was able to purchase my ticket back to Sunyani. The ticket was 120,000 cedis. Very expensive. Although I discovered that the bus was air conditioned and was unlike other buses that crammed everyone inside like a can of sardines. I had lunch with the manager again. We had fufu, but not the kind i was used to. I was made out of yams instead of casava. It was much tougher, but the taste was great especially with my favorite ground nut soup.
After lunch the manager decided he was going to try and get some sleep, so I also escaped back to the sanctuary of my room for a while and did not emerge until the evening. It was at that time that I met another man staying at the hotel who was actually from Cape Coast. He was a fireman. He had been transferred to the Upper West region to develop their fire department.
We actually began talking after we saw a bit on the news about the situation in Darfur. I made a comment and he responded. He said that his heart aches for those people. He said he knew what it was like. It turns out that he was originally from Sierra Leone and was there during the war. He told me that he saw some horrible things and was in one of the worst spots during the chaos.
He told me that because of his experiences he has learned of the great importance of maintaining peace and resolving conflicts. He said life is much to precious to live with anger and hate in your heart. I was amazed at this man. He told me that he weeps for the people around the world who live in war. I could see that he was on the verge of tears just thinking about all of these things so I decided to change the subject. We spent the rest of our conversation discussing what it is like to be a fire man in Ghana. What did I learn? Its dangerous and the people don't always give you the respect you deserve. Hmmm. Most of their work is putting out bush fires which can be quite difficult from the wildfires in the States.
Before I went to bed that night, I thought to myself that there was one good reason for me to be at that crummy hotel. I met one of the most interesting men that I have ever encountered here in Ghana. Full of awareness and genuine concern for the people all over the world that suffer he continues his work of teaching fire safety and prevention. He continually puts his life on the line for others. It was a blessing to meet him.
So much to think about that night. I had to be at the bus station the next morning at 6am for the second to last leg of the journey back to Sunyani.
Of course, he followed me. He didn't mind disturbing me at all, I guess writing isn't important to him since he cannot neither read nor write. He kept telling me that he was a poor man and made the most pathetic puppy dog face. I could understand about every third word that he said, but laughing, nodding, and saying YO! was enough to get past him. He didn't really want to listen to me at all, but rather talk and talk. It was one of the most uncomfortable conversations I have ever sat through.
I was very relieved when a man came out of the t.v. room to join us. Immediately the attention of the drunk manager was diverted to this man. I learned very soon that he was actually a paramount chief of the Tumu area in the Upper West Region, the highest position a chief can have among his area. In other words, he was a big man! He was very pleasant to speak with and was keen to speak with me. I enjoyed his company very much seeing as how he could speak English very well. I told him about myself and my purpose in Ghana and made sure to hide nothing. It was an honor to be in his presence.
I just kept wondering what he was doing at this terrible hotel. A question that became even more important when I learned there was another chief traveling with the paramount chief and was staying at the hotel also.
Before I knew it I was sitting with two chiefs and one drunk hotel and manager out on the veranda. A shabby looking poor man came into view and the manager told him to sit and wait until he is called. It turned out that there was some kind of argument the previous night between this shabby man, the manager and the paramount chief. The shabby man, in a belligerent state, had insulted the manager after disobeying the request of the paramount chief. HE WAS IN BIG TROUBLE!
I didn't realize that I was sitting amongst the judges that were deciding what should be down about this man. They talked and talked and talked about this incident and how they felt disrespected. Finally, it was time for these great men to pass judgement. The deliberation climaxed with the paramount chief asking the shabby man to apologize to the hotel manager. I couldn't believe it! I was expecting a slap in the face or something exreme, but instead it was just a simple apology, which the manager refused because he thought the man didn't actually mean it. It was very serious business of course.
After that whole ordeal we had a couple hard boiled eggs and some sodas and spoke of other things. Eventually, the chiefs had to leave for a meeting with the Inspector General of Police and I was going to explore Wa. I walked out of the hotel and down the street with the Chiefs who received many greetings from those who recognized them. We parted ways and I walked down a street that I didn't know.
I came to a large and fairly modern looking mosque and stood there for a while debating whether or not I should try and find the Imam. I decided against it and continued walking through the streets. My presence went unnoticed for the most part. People were just going about their business and not minding me at all. It was nice.
The sky was looking ominous and I could already here echoing thunder in the distance and I realized that my explorations had better speed up. I waved down a taxi and asked the driver if he could take me to Nakori and back. After reading about the ancient mud and stick mosque there I decided I would go and visit it.
We drove for a short while South and out of the city limits until we approached the village. The mosque stood at about two and a half stories high. It was easy to spot I can say that. To make a long story short. People were amazed to see me visiting there, apparently not many travelers stop there. I made my way up to the mosque right when it began to rain. I asked the Imam, who was sitting in front of the mosque moving his prayer beads slowly through his very dry and callused hands, if I could enter the Mosque and perhaps climb onto the roof. He was very welcoming and led the way up to the roof. The view was very nice except for the rain which was coming down steadily now. I made sure to thank him and I gave him a small bi of money for his troubles and jumped back into the taxi with my impatient driver.
Because of the rain I was stuck in my hotel for the rest of the day. Before I went to Nakori I was able to purchase my ticket back to Sunyani. The ticket was 120,000 cedis. Very expensive. Although I discovered that the bus was air conditioned and was unlike other buses that crammed everyone inside like a can of sardines. I had lunch with the manager again. We had fufu, but not the kind i was used to. I was made out of yams instead of casava. It was much tougher, but the taste was great especially with my favorite ground nut soup.
After lunch the manager decided he was going to try and get some sleep, so I also escaped back to the sanctuary of my room for a while and did not emerge until the evening. It was at that time that I met another man staying at the hotel who was actually from Cape Coast. He was a fireman. He had been transferred to the Upper West region to develop their fire department.
We actually began talking after we saw a bit on the news about the situation in Darfur. I made a comment and he responded. He said that his heart aches for those people. He said he knew what it was like. It turns out that he was originally from Sierra Leone and was there during the war. He told me that he saw some horrible things and was in one of the worst spots during the chaos.
He told me that because of his experiences he has learned of the great importance of maintaining peace and resolving conflicts. He said life is much to precious to live with anger and hate in your heart. I was amazed at this man. He told me that he weeps for the people around the world who live in war. I could see that he was on the verge of tears just thinking about all of these things so I decided to change the subject. We spent the rest of our conversation discussing what it is like to be a fire man in Ghana. What did I learn? Its dangerous and the people don't always give you the respect you deserve. Hmmm. Most of their work is putting out bush fires which can be quite difficult from the wildfires in the States.
Before I went to bed that night, I thought to myself that there was one good reason for me to be at that crummy hotel. I met one of the most interesting men that I have ever encountered here in Ghana. Full of awareness and genuine concern for the people all over the world that suffer he continues his work of teaching fire safety and prevention. He continually puts his life on the line for others. It was a blessing to meet him.
So much to think about that night. I had to be at the bus station the next morning at 6am for the second to last leg of the journey back to Sunyani.
"The Recap" - August 28th
Once again, after waking several times in the night to check the time on my camera, I arose to head to the station at around 3:45am. This time the streets were truly deserted. Nothing was moving.
I arrived at the station to find a fairly large, but silent crowd of people waiting for the bus. I stood alone for a while under a tree since it was beginning to drizzle. A teenage boy approached me and started a conversation. He spoke like a Rasta-man and mostly talked about rap music from the States. However, I did manage to learn that he was on his way to Wa to stay with his family after having worked in Tamale for a year. Although, I was semi-conscious it was a good way to pass the time before boarding the bus. It is a long process to fill the bus with people, especially when they are bringing many things with them. We didn't get out of the station until nearly 6am!
My seat was at the back of the bus where the bumps are felt the worst. But I would soon get a break from that since our bus broke down just on the outskirts of the city. I couldn't believe it. Luckily, we came to a halt right in front of a mechanic who worked on large vehicles and he had us back on the road in about 30minutes.
I knew what was coming though and I wasn't looking forward to it. I don't think anyone else was either since the bus was filed to capacity and there were people standing near the back door next to my row of seats. To get to Wa from Tamale oyu have to take the same road to Mole except you have to take it all the way across the region. It was an unpaved and brutal road all the way to the town of Sawla, nearly four or five hours away.
Shortly after we began our journey down the road from hell, a man stood up in the front of the bus and began speaking, shouting, to everyone. I took off my headphones and listened. The man was one of the Reverend Doctors that you often hear about here in Ghana. He was selling some of his herbal remedies as well as preaching. He quoted the Bible to strengthen his sales pitch. At first I was annoyed and angry with the man for pretending like he was bestowing blessings on people and all the while making a profit, but then I was just laughing.
The bus was rattling so loud as we journeyed down the road that the man could barely be heard from the back of the bus where I sat. The man just started yelling louder and louder, putting emphasis on certain words. Still, all I could hear were loud shouts. I was a hilarious scene, but I was the only one laughing. I tried to hide it and bury my face in my hands, but the people around me wanted to know what was so funny. I explained it and then we all started laughing and didn't stop until he did.
More people tried to board the bus when we arrived at Damongo, but as the bus doors closed one man who had already been standing the whole way wouldn't allow his space to be further partitioned. He refused to grant the new passenger space and instead pushed the man into such an uncomfortable position that his face was pushed against the door and his hat was falling of his head. Everyone laughed at the sight of this struggle. Eventually the man gave up and got off the bus to even more laughter.
The rest of the journey was no laugh though. The other half of the road that I had yet to journey on was even worse than the first half. There was no sign of construction here and the villages along the way appeared more and more destitute. Somehow I managed to fall asleep for a while an not long after I awoke we were at Sawla. From there on we were driving on paved roads.
As we continued I noticed another change in the style of houses around me. The roofs here were flat and made of clay and mud as were all of the walls. I also saw that many of the Mosques in the villages were made of mud and sticks. They were very interesting structures to behold.
I spent a short time studying the city map of Wa so that I could make my way around town when I arrived, but there was a problem. When we finally did arrive in Wa it was raining. I quickly hired a taxi and made the decision to stay the the Numbu Hotel. The driver laughed when he heard me and said that his father owned the Hotel. I felt good about this discovery, but I didn't know what lay in store. The hotel was sort of off the beaten path and looked in decent condition. I enetered and was shown to my room by a beautiful but rude woman he demanded 65,ooo for the night. I was too tired to argue so I just paid and then went back to the room I entered through where there were a couple of men sitting there watching television. One man was quite drunk which was alarming seeing as it was right around 1pm.
The drunk man told me that I was welcome and soon began a conversation with me. HE WAS THE OWNER! I will say this now that in my two days in Wa I didn't see that man drink anything besides alcohol. I wondered how this man could possibly have the money to run this Hotel when all he does is drink. I felt sick to my stomach when I thought about the decision I had made to stay there, but it was too late to back out now. I wasn't sure if the place was even safe to stay at.
The drunk manager invited me to eat lunch with them and seeing as how I don't want to see the drunk manager to be an upset drunk manager I said yes. We ate tezet, which is a food common ot the Upper West and Northern Regions. It was a shared meal. Everyone sticks their hands into the tezet and then dips the tezet in the sauce. It wasn't the most repulsive thing I have ever witnessed, but it was hard to swallow down the food. I nearly lost it though when the drunk manager skipped the tezet and cupped his hand into the slimy sauce and brought it to his mouth. The slime dripped down his chin and it was at tha time that I noticed all of the flies that were swarming us as we ate. I gagged on my food and nearly threw up everywhere, but I held strong and can still maintain that I have a stomach like the rock of Gibraltar!
After I ate I decided to escape the Hotel and the awful manager to see some of the town. People were very friendly and didn't take much notice of my presence, which is always preferred to being stared and shouted at everywhere you go knowing that each movement you make is watched and judged. For the most part Wa is a sleepy town. Traffic wasn't bad and the streets were not overcrowded with market women or kiosks. I walked all the way back to the station where I figured out how I would travel back to Sunyani from Wa. After doing that I slowly made my way back to the Hotel and went immediately to my room.
I couldn't help but to put myself in a different place. A safe, comfortable, familiar place. I put my headphones on and listened to Sufjan Stevens and thought of my good friends that I missed so very much. Eventually, I slept for a long time.
I arrived at the station to find a fairly large, but silent crowd of people waiting for the bus. I stood alone for a while under a tree since it was beginning to drizzle. A teenage boy approached me and started a conversation. He spoke like a Rasta-man and mostly talked about rap music from the States. However, I did manage to learn that he was on his way to Wa to stay with his family after having worked in Tamale for a year. Although, I was semi-conscious it was a good way to pass the time before boarding the bus. It is a long process to fill the bus with people, especially when they are bringing many things with them. We didn't get out of the station until nearly 6am!
My seat was at the back of the bus where the bumps are felt the worst. But I would soon get a break from that since our bus broke down just on the outskirts of the city. I couldn't believe it. Luckily, we came to a halt right in front of a mechanic who worked on large vehicles and he had us back on the road in about 30minutes.
I knew what was coming though and I wasn't looking forward to it. I don't think anyone else was either since the bus was filed to capacity and there were people standing near the back door next to my row of seats. To get to Wa from Tamale oyu have to take the same road to Mole except you have to take it all the way across the region. It was an unpaved and brutal road all the way to the town of Sawla, nearly four or five hours away.
Shortly after we began our journey down the road from hell, a man stood up in the front of the bus and began speaking, shouting, to everyone. I took off my headphones and listened. The man was one of the Reverend Doctors that you often hear about here in Ghana. He was selling some of his herbal remedies as well as preaching. He quoted the Bible to strengthen his sales pitch. At first I was annoyed and angry with the man for pretending like he was bestowing blessings on people and all the while making a profit, but then I was just laughing.
The bus was rattling so loud as we journeyed down the road that the man could barely be heard from the back of the bus where I sat. The man just started yelling louder and louder, putting emphasis on certain words. Still, all I could hear were loud shouts. I was a hilarious scene, but I was the only one laughing. I tried to hide it and bury my face in my hands, but the people around me wanted to know what was so funny. I explained it and then we all started laughing and didn't stop until he did.
More people tried to board the bus when we arrived at Damongo, but as the bus doors closed one man who had already been standing the whole way wouldn't allow his space to be further partitioned. He refused to grant the new passenger space and instead pushed the man into such an uncomfortable position that his face was pushed against the door and his hat was falling of his head. Everyone laughed at the sight of this struggle. Eventually the man gave up and got off the bus to even more laughter.
The rest of the journey was no laugh though. The other half of the road that I had yet to journey on was even worse than the first half. There was no sign of construction here and the villages along the way appeared more and more destitute. Somehow I managed to fall asleep for a while an not long after I awoke we were at Sawla. From there on we were driving on paved roads.
As we continued I noticed another change in the style of houses around me. The roofs here were flat and made of clay and mud as were all of the walls. I also saw that many of the Mosques in the villages were made of mud and sticks. They were very interesting structures to behold.
I spent a short time studying the city map of Wa so that I could make my way around town when I arrived, but there was a problem. When we finally did arrive in Wa it was raining. I quickly hired a taxi and made the decision to stay the the Numbu Hotel. The driver laughed when he heard me and said that his father owned the Hotel. I felt good about this discovery, but I didn't know what lay in store. The hotel was sort of off the beaten path and looked in decent condition. I enetered and was shown to my room by a beautiful but rude woman he demanded 65,ooo for the night. I was too tired to argue so I just paid and then went back to the room I entered through where there were a couple of men sitting there watching television. One man was quite drunk which was alarming seeing as it was right around 1pm.
The drunk man told me that I was welcome and soon began a conversation with me. HE WAS THE OWNER! I will say this now that in my two days in Wa I didn't see that man drink anything besides alcohol. I wondered how this man could possibly have the money to run this Hotel when all he does is drink. I felt sick to my stomach when I thought about the decision I had made to stay there, but it was too late to back out now. I wasn't sure if the place was even safe to stay at.
The drunk manager invited me to eat lunch with them and seeing as how I don't want to see the drunk manager to be an upset drunk manager I said yes. We ate tezet, which is a food common ot the Upper West and Northern Regions. It was a shared meal. Everyone sticks their hands into the tezet and then dips the tezet in the sauce. It wasn't the most repulsive thing I have ever witnessed, but it was hard to swallow down the food. I nearly lost it though when the drunk manager skipped the tezet and cupped his hand into the slimy sauce and brought it to his mouth. The slime dripped down his chin and it was at tha time that I noticed all of the flies that were swarming us as we ate. I gagged on my food and nearly threw up everywhere, but I held strong and can still maintain that I have a stomach like the rock of Gibraltar!
After I ate I decided to escape the Hotel and the awful manager to see some of the town. People were very friendly and didn't take much notice of my presence, which is always preferred to being stared and shouted at everywhere you go knowing that each movement you make is watched and judged. For the most part Wa is a sleepy town. Traffic wasn't bad and the streets were not overcrowded with market women or kiosks. I walked all the way back to the station where I figured out how I would travel back to Sunyani from Wa. After doing that I slowly made my way back to the Hotel and went immediately to my room.
I couldn't help but to put myself in a different place. A safe, comfortable, familiar place. I put my headphones on and listened to Sufjan Stevens and thought of my good friends that I missed so very much. Eventually, I slept for a long time.
"The Recap" - August 27th
If it wasn't for the driver that knocked on everyone's doors that morning I doubt that I would have got on the bus back to Tamale. I quickly arose and packed my things in one my small backpack, which was really beginning to smell from my unwashed clothes. I went out into the still pitch black night to see a cloud moving to unveil a large moon. Just as soon as it appeared it disappeared behind another cloud.
I joined the group of tourists waiting to get on the bus and spoke to my American friend. Before long we were going back down the dreadful road. We made frequent stops to pick up more passengers along they way. By the time we left Damongo the bus was completely full and the sun was rising. It was a spectacular sunrise.
I talked with my American friend the whole way back to Tamale, which really helped me to ignore the bumpy road. We had some more great conversation and I was sad to have to say goodbye when we alighted back at the Tamale station. We parted ways and I made my way back to my old bench and greeted the familiar faces who worked at the station. Alado was not there though. I knew from the prices that I paid at Mole that I owuld not be able to go to Bolgatanga the next day and decided that I would go to Wa straight from Tamale. I was somewhat upset that I would not be able to go to the Upper East region and the last major city in Ghana before reaching Burkina Faso. I told myself that I would be able to visit another time as I approached the ticket office to by my ticket to Wa.
Then a shudder of anxiety went through my whole body. I couldn't hear anything in the busy station. I could not find my wallet!!!! I was searching my bag when I realized I had left it on the bus when I went to buy something out the window on the way back form Mole. I had to get it back. I didn't leave all my money in there, but there were some important things that I needed. I turned to see that my bus was gone and was now pulling out of the station.
Quickly, I threw my bag down and asked my friends to watch it for me and ran out of the station. I jumped on the back of motor bike taxi and told the man to follow the bus. It was my first time on the back of a motor cycle. We weaved in and out of traffic as well as the many people that roamed the city streets that Monday morning. We were nearly hit twice by passing cars during our pursuit. Finally, the bus pulled into the filling station and I ran to the driver and demanded to get on the bus. By the grace of God I found my wallet lying on the edge of my seat with all of the money still inside. Besides being relieved, I was so proud of myself for what I had just done.
After buying my ticket to Wa I made my way back to the same hotel that I had stayed at before. Went to my room to drop off my things and then visited Tiah and his friends at the space to space kiosk where I called Br. Paul to let him know that I was ok and back in Tamale. After some conversation, I collapsed in bed and rested until the afternoon.
RAIN. I woke up to the sounds of the rain pounding against the flat roof of the hotel as if Niagara falls was above us. Because of the weather I was confined ot the hotel for the rest of the day.
I thought a lot that day about my journey so far. Things had gone very smoothly and I had met some great people. Armed robbery is a major issue for people traveling alone here in Ghana, but it had barely entered my mind all the time that I was traveling. I truly felt the prayers from all of my friends and family. I used the rest of the day to journal and rest since I had to be back at the station at 4am the next morning to continue my journey to Wa in the Upper West Region.
I joined the group of tourists waiting to get on the bus and spoke to my American friend. Before long we were going back down the dreadful road. We made frequent stops to pick up more passengers along they way. By the time we left Damongo the bus was completely full and the sun was rising. It was a spectacular sunrise.
I talked with my American friend the whole way back to Tamale, which really helped me to ignore the bumpy road. We had some more great conversation and I was sad to have to say goodbye when we alighted back at the Tamale station. We parted ways and I made my way back to my old bench and greeted the familiar faces who worked at the station. Alado was not there though. I knew from the prices that I paid at Mole that I owuld not be able to go to Bolgatanga the next day and decided that I would go to Wa straight from Tamale. I was somewhat upset that I would not be able to go to the Upper East region and the last major city in Ghana before reaching Burkina Faso. I told myself that I would be able to visit another time as I approached the ticket office to by my ticket to Wa.
Then a shudder of anxiety went through my whole body. I couldn't hear anything in the busy station. I could not find my wallet!!!! I was searching my bag when I realized I had left it on the bus when I went to buy something out the window on the way back form Mole. I had to get it back. I didn't leave all my money in there, but there were some important things that I needed. I turned to see that my bus was gone and was now pulling out of the station.
Quickly, I threw my bag down and asked my friends to watch it for me and ran out of the station. I jumped on the back of motor bike taxi and told the man to follow the bus. It was my first time on the back of a motor cycle. We weaved in and out of traffic as well as the many people that roamed the city streets that Monday morning. We were nearly hit twice by passing cars during our pursuit. Finally, the bus pulled into the filling station and I ran to the driver and demanded to get on the bus. By the grace of God I found my wallet lying on the edge of my seat with all of the money still inside. Besides being relieved, I was so proud of myself for what I had just done.
After buying my ticket to Wa I made my way back to the same hotel that I had stayed at before. Went to my room to drop off my things and then visited Tiah and his friends at the space to space kiosk where I called Br. Paul to let him know that I was ok and back in Tamale. After some conversation, I collapsed in bed and rested until the afternoon.
RAIN. I woke up to the sounds of the rain pounding against the flat roof of the hotel as if Niagara falls was above us. Because of the weather I was confined ot the hotel for the rest of the day.
I thought a lot that day about my journey so far. Things had gone very smoothly and I had met some great people. Armed robbery is a major issue for people traveling alone here in Ghana, but it had barely entered my mind all the time that I was traveling. I truly felt the prayers from all of my friends and family. I used the rest of the day to journal and rest since I had to be back at the station at 4am the next morning to continue my journey to Wa in the Upper West Region.
"The Recap" - August 26th
I woke up at about 3:30am because of the great amount of noise being made by a few people in th dormitory getting up to catch their bus that was returning to Tamale. I dreaded the fact that I would have to be getting up that early for my return trip. I slept for a couple more hours and awoke around 5:30am. I got dressed and made my way out to the dining/pool area where there was a viewing platform that looked out over the park. There was a steep bluff in front of the viewing platform that gave people a bird's eye view of any activity going on down there.
There were two water holes in sight and I couldn't believe me eyes when I saw an elephant taking a morning bath. I watched it for a long time reminding myself that it was real. After a while I noticed a bunch of noise coming from a nearby tree. It was full of monkeys. In the next moment a couple of them had jumped out and were coming towards me. Unbelievable! They made their way right past me and over to the next set of bushes. I was able to snap a few pictures of the action that I will be sure to put up soon.
Time passed and soon I made my way over the group of tourists gathered around the safari office. We were eventually divided into groups and given a guide. His name was Deke. A middle-aged man who looked quite strong with his rifle slung over his shoulder. He gave us a short introduction to the park and what we were about to see. He tried to learn all of our names and then we set off. HE told the group as we were walking that if anything happened I was in charge of getting people back to the motel. There was a long moment of silence and then I said to the group, "Don't you feel safe now?" The group erupted with laughter.
I could write a small book about the beauty of the land an d the things that I saw, but I will let the pictures do the talking. ( Trust me they are coming.) As we made our way through the bush I couldn't help but think about all the fun times I have had in the past hiking through the woods with my friends Kevin Carter and Chris Loeber. We never followed the path. I smiled thinking about it. Of course, this was no hike through a forest preserve. There was real danger here, no guarantee that you will come out alive.
The whole thing was surreal. We saw monkeys, baboons, exotic birds, bush buck, water buck, forest deer, crocodiles, and warthogs. We had walked for nearly three hours and had not seen any elephant yet. I said to myself that I could not leave the park without seeing any elephant. It didn't look good. There was a serious moments when our guide would stop in his tracks and so would we. He would look at a print in the mud, markings on a tree, or would just stare into the bush seeing and hearing things that we with our untrained senses could not. At one point the guide called us to look at one print. I didn't know what to make of it. He said very calmly but with great seriousness, "Lion...couple days old." No one spoke and fortunately we were spared of meeting any lions on foot that day.
Our guide was frustrated and told us that he would be happy to take us back out later when the elephant came. So we made our way back through the forest towards the motel when it happened.
We came to a clearing and there he was. A giant elephant slowly lumbering towards the water hole. He took no notice of us until we drew within about 50 feet. He turned and began lapping his ears, grunting, and stamping his foot. The ranger told us to get behind him as he quickly swung his gun off his shoulder and into his hands. The elephant must have known this scenario because he quickly turned and made his way into the bush. We were all so excited, but dared not to say a word. Deke took us back to the waterhole where there were another four elephants bathing in the water. We stopped at the bank across from them and watched for about 15 mintues. I was quite close to the water and checked it frequently for any signs of an approaching crocodile, which there wouldn't be anyway. I kept my position and tried to document as much of the scene as I could.
Without knowing he had left, we turned to hear Deke returning from the bush to inform us that another group of about 5-8 elephant had appeared in another spot. We all followed him and saw it to be true. These elephant seemed much bigger even from a distance. I watched with amusement as another tour group appeared very near to these elephant and the same scenario happened with them that happened with us. Eventually, the time came and we made our way back to the motel after spending 3 1/2 hours under the sun searching for animals. when I returned to the motel I got a large bottle of water, sat at the viewing platform, and tried to take in what had just happened.
After taking a long nap I awoke and showered, a bucket shower that is. I realized that I was incredibly burned from my morning in the sun. I changed clothes, grabbed my journal and made my way out to the dining area for some refreshment. There were many young people there from England, Holland, and Germany. They seemed quite satisfied with their own company and I was also with mine. I watched the beautiful scenery as the sun began to set. Very much at peace with the world, I sat and wrote in my journal.
I sate dinner that night with my American friend and some young ladies from England. It was nice to have some good conversation about "western" things. As frivolous as they may be I still enjoyed it very much. We stayed up much too late laughing, drinking, and chatting with our Ghanaian friend Jerry who worked at the Motel. Before I knew it it was 11pm and we all had to get up at 3:30am for a bus that left at 4am. After everyone had departed I took one last look into the now pitch black void and listened for the different animals. I dared not go back down there now. My experience at Mole Park gave me the true understanding of wildlife.
I also want to take time here to tell you that if you have any questions at all please ask by using the comment tool below this post. I would love your feedback.
There were two water holes in sight and I couldn't believe me eyes when I saw an elephant taking a morning bath. I watched it for a long time reminding myself that it was real. After a while I noticed a bunch of noise coming from a nearby tree. It was full of monkeys. In the next moment a couple of them had jumped out and were coming towards me. Unbelievable! They made their way right past me and over to the next set of bushes. I was able to snap a few pictures of the action that I will be sure to put up soon.
Time passed and soon I made my way over the group of tourists gathered around the safari office. We were eventually divided into groups and given a guide. His name was Deke. A middle-aged man who looked quite strong with his rifle slung over his shoulder. He gave us a short introduction to the park and what we were about to see. He tried to learn all of our names and then we set off. HE told the group as we were walking that if anything happened I was in charge of getting people back to the motel. There was a long moment of silence and then I said to the group, "Don't you feel safe now?" The group erupted with laughter.
I could write a small book about the beauty of the land an d the things that I saw, but I will let the pictures do the talking. ( Trust me they are coming.) As we made our way through the bush I couldn't help but think about all the fun times I have had in the past hiking through the woods with my friends Kevin Carter and Chris Loeber. We never followed the path. I smiled thinking about it. Of course, this was no hike through a forest preserve. There was real danger here, no guarantee that you will come out alive.
The whole thing was surreal. We saw monkeys, baboons, exotic birds, bush buck, water buck, forest deer, crocodiles, and warthogs. We had walked for nearly three hours and had not seen any elephant yet. I said to myself that I could not leave the park without seeing any elephant. It didn't look good. There was a serious moments when our guide would stop in his tracks and so would we. He would look at a print in the mud, markings on a tree, or would just stare into the bush seeing and hearing things that we with our untrained senses could not. At one point the guide called us to look at one print. I didn't know what to make of it. He said very calmly but with great seriousness, "Lion...couple days old." No one spoke and fortunately we were spared of meeting any lions on foot that day.
Our guide was frustrated and told us that he would be happy to take us back out later when the elephant came. So we made our way back through the forest towards the motel when it happened.
We came to a clearing and there he was. A giant elephant slowly lumbering towards the water hole. He took no notice of us until we drew within about 50 feet. He turned and began lapping his ears, grunting, and stamping his foot. The ranger told us to get behind him as he quickly swung his gun off his shoulder and into his hands. The elephant must have known this scenario because he quickly turned and made his way into the bush. We were all so excited, but dared not to say a word. Deke took us back to the waterhole where there were another four elephants bathing in the water. We stopped at the bank across from them and watched for about 15 mintues. I was quite close to the water and checked it frequently for any signs of an approaching crocodile, which there wouldn't be anyway. I kept my position and tried to document as much of the scene as I could.
Without knowing he had left, we turned to hear Deke returning from the bush to inform us that another group of about 5-8 elephant had appeared in another spot. We all followed him and saw it to be true. These elephant seemed much bigger even from a distance. I watched with amusement as another tour group appeared very near to these elephant and the same scenario happened with them that happened with us. Eventually, the time came and we made our way back to the motel after spending 3 1/2 hours under the sun searching for animals. when I returned to the motel I got a large bottle of water, sat at the viewing platform, and tried to take in what had just happened.
After taking a long nap I awoke and showered, a bucket shower that is. I realized that I was incredibly burned from my morning in the sun. I changed clothes, grabbed my journal and made my way out to the dining area for some refreshment. There were many young people there from England, Holland, and Germany. They seemed quite satisfied with their own company and I was also with mine. I watched the beautiful scenery as the sun began to set. Very much at peace with the world, I sat and wrote in my journal.
I sate dinner that night with my American friend and some young ladies from England. It was nice to have some good conversation about "western" things. As frivolous as they may be I still enjoyed it very much. We stayed up much too late laughing, drinking, and chatting with our Ghanaian friend Jerry who worked at the Motel. Before I knew it it was 11pm and we all had to get up at 3:30am for a bus that left at 4am. After everyone had departed I took one last look into the now pitch black void and listened for the different animals. I dared not go back down there now. My experience at Mole Park gave me the true understanding of wildlife.
I also want to take time here to tell you that if you have any questions at all please ask by using the comment tool below this post. I would love your feedback.
"The Recap" - August 25th
Well, I woke u at about 5:30 in the morning and washed up before heading out into the nearly deserted streets of Tamale. I was surprised to see such little activity, but then again it was Saturday morning. I arrived at the station to fine it pretty quiet. I approached the ticket office and was quickly turned away and told to wait until around 7am to buy my ticket. I wasn't incredibly mad seeing as how I didn't have an alarm clock I couldn't really have slept longer.
I grabbed a seat on an old wooden bench where many people were sitting waiting for their bus to arrive to Techiman. They were surprised to see a white man sitting with them. I guess most white people tend to hang together when traveling. Soon after I sat down a familiar face showed up. I neglected to mention that I went back to the station the day before to inquire about the bus to Mole Park and got all the information I needed from a very friendly young man named Alado.
I was under the impression when I got to Tamale that I would be taking an OSA bus to the park, but soon learned that OSA no longer existed. It was Metro Mass Transit that was now doing OSA's old routes. Minor details of course. So I sat and talked with Alado and his good friend Lokman. We chatted for a long time and, like most Ghanaians I meet, they could not believe I was only 22 years old. They kept pointing people out to me and telling me that that individual was older than I was. Quite amusing stuff. They invited me to share breakfast with them at the station on the bench. We ate bread and eggs and I bought them the small bags of water that you see everywhere in Ghana. Afterwards I bought my ticket, bid them farewell, and made my way back to the Hotel to checkout.
After checking out I decided to explore as much of the city as I could before I had to return to the station to catch my bus to Mole Park. I first walked out to see the Catholic Cathedral and then made an unsuccessful attempt to find the Tamale Cultural Center where I thought I could buy some souvenirs. After taking a peak at the Gulpka Na's Palace I decided to try and venture out to the brand new soccer stadium built for the African Cup of Nations to be held in January 2008.
As I changed my course a teenage boy kept pace with me. He eventually asked me where I was from. I answered him. And then he asked, "Do you use the Bradt Travel guide to Ghana?" I couldn't believe it and stopped in my tracks. "Yeah, how do you know about it?" " I am in it!" , the boy responded. Sure enough Soaliu Al-Hassan was in the book. He was one of the nephews of a man that owned a guesthouse by Mole Park renown for its great hospitality to travelers. Eventually, we got off the subject and got to the big question. Where was the stadium at?
He decided to join me on my quest and we walked for about 30 minutes at a fast pace, since my time to return to the station was drawing near. It was midday when we arrived at the construction site and there stood the beautiful, modern stadium built by Ghanaian and of course, Chinese workers. Without hesitation, we both pushed open the gate and made our way closer to the stadium until the security man shouted at us and demanded payment. I waved and smiled as I said, "Thanks, we are okay!" We eventually walked up to a gate where a security man stood watch and I waited a m young companion spoke Dagbani to the man. He told him that I was in the Peace Corps and that I really wanted to see the field before I left the country. He smiled and opened up the gate and allowed us to walk into the stadium. It was a beautiful sight to see, but I was more amazed that we were even able to get in! I snapped a bunch of pictures walked onto the field and then glanced at my camera which told me that I needed to get back to the station.
After running past the angry man at the first gate we hired a taxi and got back to the station with time to spare. Almost as soon as I showed up I was being yelled a by my friend Alado whom I ate breakfast with all those hours ago. He invited me into a storage room where a bunch of men were gathered. They greeted me warmly and invited me into their discussion. We spent the next hour or so talking about global issues, life in the states, and the future of Ghana. I also learned that there was a large population of Lebanese people living in Tamale. Quite odd. Anyway, we had a great time chatting. We finally ended the conversation when my bus showed up about an hour late. I said my goodbyes and boarded the bus. Another window seat thank God! The bus we were on sat two on each side and then there were chairs that folded down in the middle of the aisle to fit a maximum number of people. Wow, it was packed!
There a number of Europeans on this bus; of course all of them headed to Mole Park as well. The bus moved quickly out of Tamale and I was headed back down the road that I had just come in on the day before. We got to the Fulfusu junction and turned onto the worst road I have ever encountered in Ghana. No pavement, huge pot holes, and dust flying through the air for about 2 and a half hours. It was wonderful. The scenery however was gorgeous. The sun was heading towards the horizon and the clouds loomed in the distance. We passed a number of humble villages full of round clay houses with thatched roofs, no sign of electricity or water wells. I was able to snap a few pictures while we sped by. I swore that our bus would fall to pieces before we got to Damongo, the last major town before Mole Park.Luckily we made it there still intact. Almost all of our passengers got off their to meet friends, go home, or catch a tro-tro to somewhere else. I got off to stretch and before I knew it was greeted by a tall blond haired young woman. "You are American?", she asked. "I am indeed." Now God forgive me for not remembering her name, but she was a PhD student in African History at the University of Wisconsin. She had a special focus on Ghana and this was her first time there! As my good friend Matt Rochette would say, "HA!"
We got along well and conversed all the way to the entrance to Mole Park. We talked mostly about Ghana, the people, the culture, the things that made us laugh, and about home. The next thing I knew we were at the ominous gates to the park, it looked like a scene from Jurassic Park, and a ranger had boarded the bus brandishing a rifle, he also came to collect money from us for a one time entrance fee. Without hesitation I handed over my money to the man with the gun. (He was there b/c no one is allowed to enter the park without a ranger accompanying them. The animals roam quite free you know. No fences.)
It was dark out when we arrived at Mole Motel. I paid a ridiculous 70,ooo cedis for a bed in a dormitory and made an order for dinner. After setting my things down in the dorm that had no lock on the door, I went straight to the bar to reward myself for a long day of traveling. There were tons of Europeans, or just a bunch of Brunis as I saw it, mingling, eating, drinking, and struggling to make their orders in English to their Ghanaian servers. I sat alone at the bar and spoke with the few Ghanaian men there until i saw my American friend sitting alone at a large table.
I joined her there and immediately we began talking non-stop about school, Ghana, foreign policy in the US, global issues, and of course Harry Potter. A young European man had to come over to our table to ask us not to say anymore because he was very behind in his reading. I laughed for a while a that on with the help of a couple Gulder beers. We ate and we drank and finally after almost everyone else had gone to bed we called it a night.
The next morning would be the safari walk at 6:30am. It was then that I would have my date with the wild elephant!
I grabbed a seat on an old wooden bench where many people were sitting waiting for their bus to arrive to Techiman. They were surprised to see a white man sitting with them. I guess most white people tend to hang together when traveling. Soon after I sat down a familiar face showed up. I neglected to mention that I went back to the station the day before to inquire about the bus to Mole Park and got all the information I needed from a very friendly young man named Alado.
I was under the impression when I got to Tamale that I would be taking an OSA bus to the park, but soon learned that OSA no longer existed. It was Metro Mass Transit that was now doing OSA's old routes. Minor details of course. So I sat and talked with Alado and his good friend Lokman. We chatted for a long time and, like most Ghanaians I meet, they could not believe I was only 22 years old. They kept pointing people out to me and telling me that that individual was older than I was. Quite amusing stuff. They invited me to share breakfast with them at the station on the bench. We ate bread and eggs and I bought them the small bags of water that you see everywhere in Ghana. Afterwards I bought my ticket, bid them farewell, and made my way back to the Hotel to checkout.
After checking out I decided to explore as much of the city as I could before I had to return to the station to catch my bus to Mole Park. I first walked out to see the Catholic Cathedral and then made an unsuccessful attempt to find the Tamale Cultural Center where I thought I could buy some souvenirs. After taking a peak at the Gulpka Na's Palace I decided to try and venture out to the brand new soccer stadium built for the African Cup of Nations to be held in January 2008.
As I changed my course a teenage boy kept pace with me. He eventually asked me where I was from. I answered him. And then he asked, "Do you use the Bradt Travel guide to Ghana?" I couldn't believe it and stopped in my tracks. "Yeah, how do you know about it?" " I am in it!" , the boy responded. Sure enough Soaliu Al-Hassan was in the book. He was one of the nephews of a man that owned a guesthouse by Mole Park renown for its great hospitality to travelers. Eventually, we got off the subject and got to the big question. Where was the stadium at?
He decided to join me on my quest and we walked for about 30 minutes at a fast pace, since my time to return to the station was drawing near. It was midday when we arrived at the construction site and there stood the beautiful, modern stadium built by Ghanaian and of course, Chinese workers. Without hesitation, we both pushed open the gate and made our way closer to the stadium until the security man shouted at us and demanded payment. I waved and smiled as I said, "Thanks, we are okay!" We eventually walked up to a gate where a security man stood watch and I waited a m young companion spoke Dagbani to the man. He told him that I was in the Peace Corps and that I really wanted to see the field before I left the country. He smiled and opened up the gate and allowed us to walk into the stadium. It was a beautiful sight to see, but I was more amazed that we were even able to get in! I snapped a bunch of pictures walked onto the field and then glanced at my camera which told me that I needed to get back to the station.
After running past the angry man at the first gate we hired a taxi and got back to the station with time to spare. Almost as soon as I showed up I was being yelled a by my friend Alado whom I ate breakfast with all those hours ago. He invited me into a storage room where a bunch of men were gathered. They greeted me warmly and invited me into their discussion. We spent the next hour or so talking about global issues, life in the states, and the future of Ghana. I also learned that there was a large population of Lebanese people living in Tamale. Quite odd. Anyway, we had a great time chatting. We finally ended the conversation when my bus showed up about an hour late. I said my goodbyes and boarded the bus. Another window seat thank God! The bus we were on sat two on each side and then there were chairs that folded down in the middle of the aisle to fit a maximum number of people. Wow, it was packed!
There a number of Europeans on this bus; of course all of them headed to Mole Park as well. The bus moved quickly out of Tamale and I was headed back down the road that I had just come in on the day before. We got to the Fulfusu junction and turned onto the worst road I have ever encountered in Ghana. No pavement, huge pot holes, and dust flying through the air for about 2 and a half hours. It was wonderful. The scenery however was gorgeous. The sun was heading towards the horizon and the clouds loomed in the distance. We passed a number of humble villages full of round clay houses with thatched roofs, no sign of electricity or water wells. I was able to snap a few pictures while we sped by. I swore that our bus would fall to pieces before we got to Damongo, the last major town before Mole Park.Luckily we made it there still intact. Almost all of our passengers got off their to meet friends, go home, or catch a tro-tro to somewhere else. I got off to stretch and before I knew it was greeted by a tall blond haired young woman. "You are American?", she asked. "I am indeed." Now God forgive me for not remembering her name, but she was a PhD student in African History at the University of Wisconsin. She had a special focus on Ghana and this was her first time there! As my good friend Matt Rochette would say, "HA!"
We got along well and conversed all the way to the entrance to Mole Park. We talked mostly about Ghana, the people, the culture, the things that made us laugh, and about home. The next thing I knew we were at the ominous gates to the park, it looked like a scene from Jurassic Park, and a ranger had boarded the bus brandishing a rifle, he also came to collect money from us for a one time entrance fee. Without hesitation I handed over my money to the man with the gun. (He was there b/c no one is allowed to enter the park without a ranger accompanying them. The animals roam quite free you know. No fences.)
It was dark out when we arrived at Mole Motel. I paid a ridiculous 70,ooo cedis for a bed in a dormitory and made an order for dinner. After setting my things down in the dorm that had no lock on the door, I went straight to the bar to reward myself for a long day of traveling. There were tons of Europeans, or just a bunch of Brunis as I saw it, mingling, eating, drinking, and struggling to make their orders in English to their Ghanaian servers. I sat alone at the bar and spoke with the few Ghanaian men there until i saw my American friend sitting alone at a large table.
I joined her there and immediately we began talking non-stop about school, Ghana, foreign policy in the US, global issues, and of course Harry Potter. A young European man had to come over to our table to ask us not to say anymore because he was very behind in his reading. I laughed for a while a that on with the help of a couple Gulder beers. We ate and we drank and finally after almost everyone else had gone to bed we called it a night.
The next morning would be the safari walk at 6:30am. It was then that I would have my date with the wild elephant!
"The Recap" - August 23rd and August 24th
It turned out to be a great idea to take an extra day in Sunyani because I was still fairly sick the next day. I slept in the next day 'till about 8am or so. I didn't do much that day besides go into Sunyani town with Br. James to figure out the best transportation to Tamale. While we did that we walked all over the city and made a stop at Christ the King Catholic Cathedral right off the main road leading into the city.
It was a beautiful Cathedral. We went inside to pray for a short while before returning to the city streets. It was pretty quiet everywhere we went. Even the stations were quiet compared to the other ones that I have experienced. Besides children calling out to me, "Bruni, Bruni! How are you? I am fine! Thank you!" the only funny thing that happened was a woman that ran out of her roadside kiosk to ask me if I would marry her sister. Br. James stepped in quickly and told her that I am a professed Brother of Holy Cross. Thanks James I didn't know what to say!;)
We decided that the best thing for me to do was to take a taxi to a small city called Techiman about 45 minutes from Sunyani and from there take a "207" to Tamale. After having completed our primary objective we decided to return to the house where I spent the rest of the day resting until Br. Raymond came back from school at the Catholic University. By that time I was finally feeling much better than I had the previous day. I was ready to continue the journey.
At around 10am the next morning I was riding in a taxi with Br. Raymond and Lydia, their cook and housekeeper, to the old market station to catch a taxi going to Techiman. We walked into the station area to find a fair amount of hustle and bustle. We quickly found a taxi going to Techiman and before I knew I had said good bye and I was on my way out of Sunyani.
My driver barely spoke English and the 4 woman crammed into the back seat were still giggling at the sight of the white man in their car. I was a little nervous about the change of cars that I had to make in Techiman. I didn't know much at all about the small city or even where the bus stations were in town. The only stop our driver made was to buy some grasscutter that some young boys were selling on the side of the road. For those of you who don't know, grasscutter is a fairly large rodent that many Ghanaians indulge in. Our driver inspected the freshly killed rodents that were swinging by their tails right outside my window. He shook his head and kept on driving. I was thankful that I didn't have to aid in the transaction.
It was a dark day and looked as if it could rain at any second, but the scenery as always was beautiful.
It didn't take long until we were at the outer limits of Techiman. I then told the driver that I needed to go to the Tamale Station. He looked at me in surprise and said, "Tamale station? Oh!" I realized that if I had not mentioned this to the driver that I might have found myself in quite the pickle. He quickly adjusted his route and dropped me off at a different station where I hired another taxi to take me to the Tamale station.
When I arrived there it was easy to procure a ticket to Tamale and I boarder a big old orange bus. Withing 30 minutes the bus was fulled and once again I was pushed up hard against the window with my backpack in my lap. There was a big argument before we left though. The men who were selling the tickets sold more tickets than there were seats so everyone had to show their tickets to prove that they had actually bought one and of course one man could not find his ticket. There was a lot of shouting, laughing, moving about, and then more shouting. It was a pretty funny sight to behold. When the man found his ticket he realized that he paid 50,ooo cedis which is 7,000 more than everyone else paid. After being told that he should get his change he shouted, "Forget it. Lets get out of here!" Everyone laughed and we pulled out of the station.
I was very excited to be heading to Tamale. Arguably the third largest city in Ghana I had always wanted to visit it. I was curious to see how different it was from the rest of the country. I knew that the majority of the people there were Muslims and that showed as we entered the Northern Region. In almost every large village there were a couple of mosques to be seen from the road.
It was a three hour drive to Tamale and I spent every moment observing my surroundings. I watched as the landscape changed around me. The land became completely flat and the trees became shorter. The vegetation was very thin with large meadows of the most brilliant yellow-green color I have ever scene.
However, disaster was about to strike. The young girl in front of me was looking very restless and she moved around in her seat constantly. All of a sudden, before I could react, saw that she was going to be sick and she leaned out here window and threw up. Of course, it all flew back in the window and onto my face and shirt and the person sitting behind me. I had tried to duck, but i still got hit pretty well. I just cringed for a moment telling myself not to freak out. Thankfully, the woman accompanying the sick girl handed me a towel almost immediately. It was quite disturbing, but I remained calm and did not lose my lunch. Moments later another girl threw up. This time into a plastic bag. Praise the Lord!
After these unfortunate events I turned my attention back out the window to notice how the architecture of the houses in the villages were changing. People were living in small A-frames with thatched roofs and also small round houses with thatched roofs. The walls were sculpted out of clay. Of course there were plenty of buildings made form concrete and wood, but in many of the small villages this is what I saw.
Time passed fairly quickly as our old orange bus blasting Bob Marley sped closer to the Tamale city limits. I took one last glance at my Bradt guide map of Tamale to make sure I had my bearings straight, but not long after we entered the city I lost my sense of direction immediately, quite unusual for me. Anyway, we drove through the very busy city and I could see that most of the people walking around town were wearing Muslim style clothing. There were more motor bikes speeding around than I have ever seen in any city in Ghana. After looking around the city we pulled into the chaotic bus station filled to the brim with all kinds of vehicles, travelers, and vendors. I could barely make my way through the crowd off of our bus. I turned around the help a woman carry her bag to a taxi, partially because I just needed a minute to figure out what I was going to do next.
Of course, that was only one minute to think. She thanked me and without any hesitation I walked out of the park and into the busy Tamale streets. I decided on the way there that I would stay at AlHassan's Hotel which was much closer to the station than the other hotels. I did my best to remember the map and made my way through a small market area filled with woman getting ready to pack up and go home for the day. I crossed the street and walked towards a large intersection, probably the largest in the city besides the one further North along the Bolgatanga road. I walked passed many blind men led by little children as they begged for money on the large median strip. I knew exactly where I was going and felt a rush of euphoria. With an extra something in my step I smiled to myself as I realized that I was doing really well on my own.
I was caught in the middle of traffic, stuck on the median with many other pedestrians. I looked one way and then the other. I saw the largest mosque I have ever seen in my life, Tamale Central Mosque. This structure looked right out of the middle east, and that's probably where the money came from to build it. Eventually, traffic slowed to a halt and I made my way quickly through the maze of vehicles and clouds of exhaust to the other side of the street which led to the hotel.
After checking in I went out to make a phone call and while doing so I met some very friendly young men, university students. We talked for a long while and I told them how I felt about Tamale so far and that I was excited to hear all of the prayer callers for sunset prayer, although as I was speaking the power went out and I would be hearing very few callers that night. One of the guys, Tiah, invited me to see his Mosque and to watch them pray. I figured he was a nice enough guy and I had some time to get back to the hotel before dark so I went with him through some back alleys near the hotel and eventually to a small clearing.
It was a small humble Mosque, nothing like the Central one. I followed him around to the door and he invited me in, of course after taking off my shoes. I couldn't believe it. He turned to me and said, "Just do what I do." I nearly laughed out loud when the word INFIDEL came into my head, but I went along for the ride. Everything went smoothly and I must say it will be an experience that I will not soon forget. Don't worry though, I am not planning on converting yet! JK!
I ate dinner at the Crest Restaurant on the roof and watched the sun set over the city that night before I made my way back to the hotel. I had to be at the station the next morning at 6am to buy my ticket to Mole National Park, the next destination of my journey. My phone was worthless and couldn't even tell the time anymore so I had to rely on mental alarm to wake up, which did so successfully about 8 times that night.
It was a beautiful Cathedral. We went inside to pray for a short while before returning to the city streets. It was pretty quiet everywhere we went. Even the stations were quiet compared to the other ones that I have experienced. Besides children calling out to me, "Bruni, Bruni! How are you? I am fine! Thank you!" the only funny thing that happened was a woman that ran out of her roadside kiosk to ask me if I would marry her sister. Br. James stepped in quickly and told her that I am a professed Brother of Holy Cross. Thanks James I didn't know what to say!;)
We decided that the best thing for me to do was to take a taxi to a small city called Techiman about 45 minutes from Sunyani and from there take a "207" to Tamale. After having completed our primary objective we decided to return to the house where I spent the rest of the day resting until Br. Raymond came back from school at the Catholic University. By that time I was finally feeling much better than I had the previous day. I was ready to continue the journey.
At around 10am the next morning I was riding in a taxi with Br. Raymond and Lydia, their cook and housekeeper, to the old market station to catch a taxi going to Techiman. We walked into the station area to find a fair amount of hustle and bustle. We quickly found a taxi going to Techiman and before I knew I had said good bye and I was on my way out of Sunyani.
My driver barely spoke English and the 4 woman crammed into the back seat were still giggling at the sight of the white man in their car. I was a little nervous about the change of cars that I had to make in Techiman. I didn't know much at all about the small city or even where the bus stations were in town. The only stop our driver made was to buy some grasscutter that some young boys were selling on the side of the road. For those of you who don't know, grasscutter is a fairly large rodent that many Ghanaians indulge in. Our driver inspected the freshly killed rodents that were swinging by their tails right outside my window. He shook his head and kept on driving. I was thankful that I didn't have to aid in the transaction.
It was a dark day and looked as if it could rain at any second, but the scenery as always was beautiful.
It didn't take long until we were at the outer limits of Techiman. I then told the driver that I needed to go to the Tamale Station. He looked at me in surprise and said, "Tamale station? Oh!" I realized that if I had not mentioned this to the driver that I might have found myself in quite the pickle. He quickly adjusted his route and dropped me off at a different station where I hired another taxi to take me to the Tamale station.
When I arrived there it was easy to procure a ticket to Tamale and I boarder a big old orange bus. Withing 30 minutes the bus was fulled and once again I was pushed up hard against the window with my backpack in my lap. There was a big argument before we left though. The men who were selling the tickets sold more tickets than there were seats so everyone had to show their tickets to prove that they had actually bought one and of course one man could not find his ticket. There was a lot of shouting, laughing, moving about, and then more shouting. It was a pretty funny sight to behold. When the man found his ticket he realized that he paid 50,ooo cedis which is 7,000 more than everyone else paid. After being told that he should get his change he shouted, "Forget it. Lets get out of here!" Everyone laughed and we pulled out of the station.
I was very excited to be heading to Tamale. Arguably the third largest city in Ghana I had always wanted to visit it. I was curious to see how different it was from the rest of the country. I knew that the majority of the people there were Muslims and that showed as we entered the Northern Region. In almost every large village there were a couple of mosques to be seen from the road.
It was a three hour drive to Tamale and I spent every moment observing my surroundings. I watched as the landscape changed around me. The land became completely flat and the trees became shorter. The vegetation was very thin with large meadows of the most brilliant yellow-green color I have ever scene.
However, disaster was about to strike. The young girl in front of me was looking very restless and she moved around in her seat constantly. All of a sudden, before I could react, saw that she was going to be sick and she leaned out here window and threw up. Of course, it all flew back in the window and onto my face and shirt and the person sitting behind me. I had tried to duck, but i still got hit pretty well. I just cringed for a moment telling myself not to freak out. Thankfully, the woman accompanying the sick girl handed me a towel almost immediately. It was quite disturbing, but I remained calm and did not lose my lunch. Moments later another girl threw up. This time into a plastic bag. Praise the Lord!
After these unfortunate events I turned my attention back out the window to notice how the architecture of the houses in the villages were changing. People were living in small A-frames with thatched roofs and also small round houses with thatched roofs. The walls were sculpted out of clay. Of course there were plenty of buildings made form concrete and wood, but in many of the small villages this is what I saw.
Time passed fairly quickly as our old orange bus blasting Bob Marley sped closer to the Tamale city limits. I took one last glance at my Bradt guide map of Tamale to make sure I had my bearings straight, but not long after we entered the city I lost my sense of direction immediately, quite unusual for me. Anyway, we drove through the very busy city and I could see that most of the people walking around town were wearing Muslim style clothing. There were more motor bikes speeding around than I have ever seen in any city in Ghana. After looking around the city we pulled into the chaotic bus station filled to the brim with all kinds of vehicles, travelers, and vendors. I could barely make my way through the crowd off of our bus. I turned around the help a woman carry her bag to a taxi, partially because I just needed a minute to figure out what I was going to do next.
Of course, that was only one minute to think. She thanked me and without any hesitation I walked out of the park and into the busy Tamale streets. I decided on the way there that I would stay at AlHassan's Hotel which was much closer to the station than the other hotels. I did my best to remember the map and made my way through a small market area filled with woman getting ready to pack up and go home for the day. I crossed the street and walked towards a large intersection, probably the largest in the city besides the one further North along the Bolgatanga road. I walked passed many blind men led by little children as they begged for money on the large median strip. I knew exactly where I was going and felt a rush of euphoria. With an extra something in my step I smiled to myself as I realized that I was doing really well on my own.
I was caught in the middle of traffic, stuck on the median with many other pedestrians. I looked one way and then the other. I saw the largest mosque I have ever seen in my life, Tamale Central Mosque. This structure looked right out of the middle east, and that's probably where the money came from to build it. Eventually, traffic slowed to a halt and I made my way quickly through the maze of vehicles and clouds of exhaust to the other side of the street which led to the hotel.
After checking in I went out to make a phone call and while doing so I met some very friendly young men, university students. We talked for a long while and I told them how I felt about Tamale so far and that I was excited to hear all of the prayer callers for sunset prayer, although as I was speaking the power went out and I would be hearing very few callers that night. One of the guys, Tiah, invited me to see his Mosque and to watch them pray. I figured he was a nice enough guy and I had some time to get back to the hotel before dark so I went with him through some back alleys near the hotel and eventually to a small clearing.
It was a small humble Mosque, nothing like the Central one. I followed him around to the door and he invited me in, of course after taking off my shoes. I couldn't believe it. He turned to me and said, "Just do what I do." I nearly laughed out loud when the word INFIDEL came into my head, but I went along for the ride. Everything went smoothly and I must say it will be an experience that I will not soon forget. Don't worry though, I am not planning on converting yet! JK!
I ate dinner at the Crest Restaurant on the roof and watched the sun set over the city that night before I made my way back to the hotel. I had to be at the station the next morning at 6am to buy my ticket to Mole National Park, the next destination of my journey. My phone was worthless and couldn't even tell the time anymore so I had to rely on mental alarm to wake up, which did so successfully about 8 times that night.
"The Recap" - August 22nd, 2007
The night before I began my journey I was feeling very ill. My body was sore all over and I had a fever. I didn't say much about it to the Brothers because I really wanted this trip to happen. Becoming very ill while traveling on my own in a developing country does seem like a worst case scenario for most people, but I am prepared for anything. After three visits to Ghana I have never traveled any further north than the city of Kumasi. I have not seen the country at all. I wasn't going to allow myself to miss this opportunity.
So naturally when the morning came I felt even worse than the night before (not to mention that my excitement alone was doing a number on my stomach). I was bustling about feverishly all morning making final packing decisions and making photo copies of my passport to bring with me, which was quite a battle in its own since power went out three times in about 30 minutes. But when the time came I said my goodbyes and made my way into Cape Coast town with Br. Ebenezer. He dropped me off at Tantry Station where I bought my ticket for a "207", a vehicle slightly larger than a conversion van, that was headed from Cape Coast to Sunyani.
I purchased my ticket and was offered a front seat. I wasn't so lucky in the future as you will later learn. Anyway, there was a woman half inside the bus shouting praises in Fante and quoting the Bible in English to all who would listen in the very cramped seats.
It was incredibly muggy inside the 207, I thought I was coming down with malaria, I was crammed up against the window, and there was a woman behind me screaming praises to God...let's do this!
The journey was a long one! It takes about four hours to get to Kumasi and about another 2 hours to get to Sunyani from there. I struck up a conversation with the young man sitting next to me, Peter, who turned out to be a third year student at University of Winneba. He is majoring in Education and was quite interested in talking to me. We spoke mostly about the economic situation in Ghana and often compared it to the situation in the U.S.
He had been traveling all night from Winneba to Cape Coast and now to his home in Sunyani. He had not had any rest and was very tired. I felt just as bad as he did as my body ached even worse after every pothole that we hit. I thought to myself how much more HCC students could learn if given the opportunity to use public transportation in Ghana. I thought about the Ghanaians who have no choice, but to use this very uncomfortable and often times unreliable, and in other cases unsafe form of transportation. It is different from the U.S. One very quickly learns patience here.
We were stopped at several police check points where our driver very strategically slipped 1 Ghana Cedi into his driver's license and handed it to the officer so that we may pass without any further delay( in other words without some kind of safety inspection). I had made the journey t Kumasi many times and as always it was very beautiful when you are driving past the thick vegetation and then the great rolling hills.
We arrived in Kumasi, the urban capitol of the Ashanti Region, in the early afternoon to the usual traffic jams and great crowds of people going about their business in the market places. We were stuck in traffic for a while behind a local tro-tro, a mini-van that serves as a taxi, that was driving very slow leaving large gaps in front of him while trying to pick up passengers. Our driver was furious and screamed out the window at him as well as half of the passengers, but he didn't budge. Out of nowhere, a police chief appeared. He was irate and was screaming a the man in the tro-tro. I saw the chief wave his hand and two other police men came up pulled the man out of his vehicle and then commandeered it. Before one could bat their eye they were driving off with his car to who knows where leaving the bewildered driver on the median with the chief still screaming in his face. As we slowly drove passed the scene, all of our passengers pointed out the window and jeered at the tro-tro driver like school children saying, "Ha Ha BUSTED!" It was hilarious.
Shortly after that we were stuck in traffic once again and I looked out the window at the thousands of people bustling about, not one "bruni", white person, in sight. I laughed out loud at the absurdity of my situation. Here I am the graduate of a small Midwest college, thousands of miles from home, crammed into a bus driving through a busy African city. "I am nuts!"
After a brief stop for stretching and refreshment we continued our journey northwest to Sunyani. As I entered the Brong-Ahafo region for the first time ever I noticed that the vegetation was becoming a little less thick than before and that the land was becoming flatter. There were beautiful puffy cumulus clouds in the sky and I was loving life, save my aching body.
It didn't take long for us to reach Sunyani. At first sight it was a very clean and well organized city compared to some of the others that I have frequented in my time here in Ghana. I alighted soon after we entered the city and quickly met up with Br. James outside the old market station. We grabbed a taxi back to their brand new house where they will begin forming a new Holy Cross Community about 5 minutes from the center of town.
By the time we got back to the house I was so exhausted I could hardly speak or move. I just went to my room after a short tour of the house and collapsed for the next three hours. I thought I was going to die of exhaustion and was perfectly happy with the idea of not moving ever again.
It was then that I decided that maybe I should take an extra day in Sunyani to get healthy and then continue my journey to Tamale. I think it was a sound decision don't you?
So naturally when the morning came I felt even worse than the night before (not to mention that my excitement alone was doing a number on my stomach). I was bustling about feverishly all morning making final packing decisions and making photo copies of my passport to bring with me, which was quite a battle in its own since power went out three times in about 30 minutes. But when the time came I said my goodbyes and made my way into Cape Coast town with Br. Ebenezer. He dropped me off at Tantry Station where I bought my ticket for a "207", a vehicle slightly larger than a conversion van, that was headed from Cape Coast to Sunyani.
I purchased my ticket and was offered a front seat. I wasn't so lucky in the future as you will later learn. Anyway, there was a woman half inside the bus shouting praises in Fante and quoting the Bible in English to all who would listen in the very cramped seats.
It was incredibly muggy inside the 207, I thought I was coming down with malaria, I was crammed up against the window, and there was a woman behind me screaming praises to God...let's do this!
The journey was a long one! It takes about four hours to get to Kumasi and about another 2 hours to get to Sunyani from there. I struck up a conversation with the young man sitting next to me, Peter, who turned out to be a third year student at University of Winneba. He is majoring in Education and was quite interested in talking to me. We spoke mostly about the economic situation in Ghana and often compared it to the situation in the U.S.
He had been traveling all night from Winneba to Cape Coast and now to his home in Sunyani. He had not had any rest and was very tired. I felt just as bad as he did as my body ached even worse after every pothole that we hit. I thought to myself how much more HCC students could learn if given the opportunity to use public transportation in Ghana. I thought about the Ghanaians who have no choice, but to use this very uncomfortable and often times unreliable, and in other cases unsafe form of transportation. It is different from the U.S. One very quickly learns patience here.
We were stopped at several police check points where our driver very strategically slipped 1 Ghana Cedi into his driver's license and handed it to the officer so that we may pass without any further delay( in other words without some kind of safety inspection). I had made the journey t Kumasi many times and as always it was very beautiful when you are driving past the thick vegetation and then the great rolling hills.
We arrived in Kumasi, the urban capitol of the Ashanti Region, in the early afternoon to the usual traffic jams and great crowds of people going about their business in the market places. We were stuck in traffic for a while behind a local tro-tro, a mini-van that serves as a taxi, that was driving very slow leaving large gaps in front of him while trying to pick up passengers. Our driver was furious and screamed out the window at him as well as half of the passengers, but he didn't budge. Out of nowhere, a police chief appeared. He was irate and was screaming a the man in the tro-tro. I saw the chief wave his hand and two other police men came up pulled the man out of his vehicle and then commandeered it. Before one could bat their eye they were driving off with his car to who knows where leaving the bewildered driver on the median with the chief still screaming in his face. As we slowly drove passed the scene, all of our passengers pointed out the window and jeered at the tro-tro driver like school children saying, "Ha Ha BUSTED!" It was hilarious.
Shortly after that we were stuck in traffic once again and I looked out the window at the thousands of people bustling about, not one "bruni", white person, in sight. I laughed out loud at the absurdity of my situation. Here I am the graduate of a small Midwest college, thousands of miles from home, crammed into a bus driving through a busy African city. "I am nuts!"
After a brief stop for stretching and refreshment we continued our journey northwest to Sunyani. As I entered the Brong-Ahafo region for the first time ever I noticed that the vegetation was becoming a little less thick than before and that the land was becoming flatter. There were beautiful puffy cumulus clouds in the sky and I was loving life, save my aching body.
It didn't take long for us to reach Sunyani. At first sight it was a very clean and well organized city compared to some of the others that I have frequented in my time here in Ghana. I alighted soon after we entered the city and quickly met up with Br. James outside the old market station. We grabbed a taxi back to their brand new house where they will begin forming a new Holy Cross Community about 5 minutes from the center of town.
By the time we got back to the house I was so exhausted I could hardly speak or move. I just went to my room after a short tour of the house and collapsed for the next three hours. I thought I was going to die of exhaustion and was perfectly happy with the idea of not moving ever again.
It was then that I decided that maybe I should take an extra day in Sunyani to get healthy and then continue my journey to Tamale. I think it was a sound decision don't you?
Time for an adventure!
I want to apologize for not posting sooner, but the continued power crisis has prevented me from using the computer as often as I would like.
Plenty has happened since the last time that I posted. I have spent much of my time getting to know the people of Brafoyaw. Br. Augustus and I often take walks into the town center to pass the time with the different persons gathered there. Each time that we go there I learn more and more about the Ghanaian culture and simply how Ghanaians interact with each other. Always following these short excursions is an enlightening conversation with Br. Augustus. We talk about issues facing the Ghanaian society on the national level and also in those that are often faced in the villages. I learn everyday how similar the problems faced by Ghanaians are to the ones people face in the States. More on that later though.
Because I have been delayed in keeping up this blog an important date is now about to arrive. Tomorrow morning I will be embarking on a long journey to visit the Northern parts of Ghana. I will be visiting places no Holy Cross student that has visited Ghana has been. My trip will first take me from here in Cape Coast to Sunyani, located in the Brong-Ahafo region, to stay with some of the Holy Cross Brothers that are beginning a new community there. After that I will journey on towards the booming city of Tamale in the Northern Region. From there I will backtrack to the famous Mole National Park where I will be able to see some large animals, like elephants and hippos, up close and personal. After returning to Tamale I will head up to the last large city before the Northern border with Burkina Faso, Bolgatanga, located in the Upper West region. After a day there I will leave for the city of Wa in the Upper East region. From Wa I will travel all the way back down to Sunyani and then back to Cape Coast to seal up this ten day journey.
I will be going alone on this journey and I am terribly excited about it. I will do well to take as many pictures as possible and also to jot down all of my thoughts onto paper so that I can eventually transfer them onto this blog.
I know that I am about to encounter places that will be vastly different from the Ghana that I have become so accustomed to. This experience will be one for the books I am sure. I will ask that you all keep me in your prayers while I am on this journey. And until I return...Nyame Inshirawu!...God bless you!
Plenty has happened since the last time that I posted. I have spent much of my time getting to know the people of Brafoyaw. Br. Augustus and I often take walks into the town center to pass the time with the different persons gathered there. Each time that we go there I learn more and more about the Ghanaian culture and simply how Ghanaians interact with each other. Always following these short excursions is an enlightening conversation with Br. Augustus. We talk about issues facing the Ghanaian society on the national level and also in those that are often faced in the villages. I learn everyday how similar the problems faced by Ghanaians are to the ones people face in the States. More on that later though.
Because I have been delayed in keeping up this blog an important date is now about to arrive. Tomorrow morning I will be embarking on a long journey to visit the Northern parts of Ghana. I will be visiting places no Holy Cross student that has visited Ghana has been. My trip will first take me from here in Cape Coast to Sunyani, located in the Brong-Ahafo region, to stay with some of the Holy Cross Brothers that are beginning a new community there. After that I will journey on towards the booming city of Tamale in the Northern Region. From there I will backtrack to the famous Mole National Park where I will be able to see some large animals, like elephants and hippos, up close and personal. After returning to Tamale I will head up to the last large city before the Northern border with Burkina Faso, Bolgatanga, located in the Upper West region. After a day there I will leave for the city of Wa in the Upper East region. From Wa I will travel all the way back down to Sunyani and then back to Cape Coast to seal up this ten day journey.
I will be going alone on this journey and I am terribly excited about it. I will do well to take as many pictures as possible and also to jot down all of my thoughts onto paper so that I can eventually transfer them onto this blog.
I know that I am about to encounter places that will be vastly different from the Ghana that I have become so accustomed to. This experience will be one for the books I am sure. I will ask that you all keep me in your prayers while I am on this journey. And until I return...Nyame Inshirawu!...God bless you!
Just The Beginning
10 August 2007
The 2007 Summer International Experience in Ghana has come to end for the Holy Cross College students and they have now returned to the states. As I watched them walk into the airport after saying our goodbyes I knew that my experience was just beginning. It will not be a 2 1/2 week immersion into the culture of Ghana, but rather a year of my life devoted to the mission of the Holy Cross Brothers in Ghana. I can no longer find shelter from a large group of my countrymen. I recognize that I am a foreigner here. Ghana is not my home, but as a lay member of the Congregation of Holy Cross I am a part of a community to be found here.
Each day that I pray, eat, converse, work, and relax with the Brothers I am pulled closer to the vision of the Venerable Fr. Basil Moreau, founder of the Congregation of Holy Cross. A vision of life where professed religious and lay persons form intimate relationships and strive together to fulfill their mission of educating hearts and minds as well as the greater mission of preparing this world for the kingdom of God.
Of course to keep this in mind all day every day is quite a difficult task. I am an individual who struggles to stay consistent with my prayers and to always keep God in my thoughts. However, this is one of the greatest aspects of being close to the Brothers. Their commitment to prayer and service inspires me to work harder each day and to consistently keep God at the center of my life.
This is just the beginning of this experience and I have much more time to reflect and prepare before I begin teaching at the Home of Hope in late September. I shall do my very best to update this blog twice a week to keep all who are interested informed as to what the experience of a Moreau Fellow, or HCSC member, is like. So until next time Nyame Inshirawu! God Bless you!
- JD
The 2007 Summer International Experience in Ghana has come to end for the Holy Cross College students and they have now returned to the states. As I watched them walk into the airport after saying our goodbyes I knew that my experience was just beginning. It will not be a 2 1/2 week immersion into the culture of Ghana, but rather a year of my life devoted to the mission of the Holy Cross Brothers in Ghana. I can no longer find shelter from a large group of my countrymen. I recognize that I am a foreigner here. Ghana is not my home, but as a lay member of the Congregation of Holy Cross I am a part of a community to be found here.
Each day that I pray, eat, converse, work, and relax with the Brothers I am pulled closer to the vision of the Venerable Fr. Basil Moreau, founder of the Congregation of Holy Cross. A vision of life where professed religious and lay persons form intimate relationships and strive together to fulfill their mission of educating hearts and minds as well as the greater mission of preparing this world for the kingdom of God.
Of course to keep this in mind all day every day is quite a difficult task. I am an individual who struggles to stay consistent with my prayers and to always keep God in my thoughts. However, this is one of the greatest aspects of being close to the Brothers. Their commitment to prayer and service inspires me to work harder each day and to consistently keep God at the center of my life.
This is just the beginning of this experience and I have much more time to reflect and prepare before I begin teaching at the Home of Hope in late September. I shall do my very best to update this blog twice a week to keep all who are interested informed as to what the experience of a Moreau Fellow, or HCSC member, is like. So until next time Nyame Inshirawu! God Bless you!
- JD
Final Post from Ghana
On Saturday, Brother David presented information on African art. An extraordinary artist, he showed us pictures of pieces he has painted as well as art from previous periods in Ghana's history.
We then separated into three groups: painters, dancers and drummers. Br. David worked with students to paint three distinct symbols used in Ghanian art. The other groups met with Ghanian performing arts instructors who taught us dancing and drumming techniques.
Yesterday the group traveled to a neighboring village, Pedu, to participate in Mass at a local parish. The Ghanian people have a very lively Mass with an abundance of singing and dancing. The priest, who spoke both in English and Fante (the local language), welcomed us and thanked us for participating in the liturgy.
Last night Dr. Annan Prah spoke to the group regarding the Church in Ghana.
This morning Br. Paul Mensah led the group is a discussion regarding our experiences in Ghana.
Tomorrow morning we head back to Accra to prepare for our departure tomorrow evening. Several students will continue to travel to various places across the United States. The group traveling to South Bend should arrive at Holy Cross College around 6:00 PM.
We then separated into three groups: painters, dancers and drummers. Br. David worked with students to paint three distinct symbols used in Ghanian art. The other groups met with Ghanian performing arts instructors who taught us dancing and drumming techniques.
Yesterday the group traveled to a neighboring village, Pedu, to participate in Mass at a local parish. The Ghanian people have a very lively Mass with an abundance of singing and dancing. The priest, who spoke both in English and Fante (the local language), welcomed us and thanked us for participating in the liturgy.
Last night Dr. Annan Prah spoke to the group regarding the Church in Ghana.
This morning Br. Paul Mensah led the group is a discussion regarding our experiences in Ghana.
Tomorrow morning we head back to Accra to prepare for our departure tomorrow evening. Several students will continue to travel to various places across the United States. The group traveling to South Bend should arrive at Holy Cross College around 6:00 PM.
Emancipation Day in Ghana
The people in Ghana celebrated Emancipation Day yesterday. In the morning, the group traveled to a place where slaves were taken after walking for several weeks with little or no food or water and no chance to bathe. The slaves, still bound in chains, were led to a river where they were able to bathe prior to being sent to the dungeons in a "slave castle." There are several memorials dedicated to remembering all of those who were enslaved, especically those who persished.
Yesterday afteroon we traveled to a nearby slave castle where many people from Ghana and surrounding areas paid tribute to their ancestors who were slaves. The program began with numerous chiefs, many of whom sat in chairs carried by their subjects, parading the length of the viewing area. Those chiefs who were walking were escorted by a person shielding him with an umbrella. Numerous "queen mothers" also accompanied the chiefs. After numerous songs and prayers, the chiefs performed a cleansing ritual remembering those in Ghana who particpated in the slave trade.
This morning Br. Paul Mensah, Superior of the District of West Africa, addressed the group about the Congregation of Holy Cross in general and the district in particular.
This afternoon and tomorrow morning, we will be helping the local community with several projects: helping to prepare meals and fabricating cement posts that will eventually be used to mark property that the Brothers have acquired to build a school.
Yesterday afteroon we traveled to a nearby slave castle where many people from Ghana and surrounding areas paid tribute to their ancestors who were slaves. The program began with numerous chiefs, many of whom sat in chairs carried by their subjects, parading the length of the viewing area. Those chiefs who were walking were escorted by a person shielding him with an umbrella. Numerous "queen mothers" also accompanied the chiefs. After numerous songs and prayers, the chiefs performed a cleansing ritual remembering those in Ghana who particpated in the slave trade.
This morning Br. Paul Mensah, Superior of the District of West Africa, addressed the group about the Congregation of Holy Cross in general and the district in particular.
This afternoon and tomorrow morning, we will be helping the local community with several projects: helping to prepare meals and fabricating cement posts that will eventually be used to mark property that the Brothers have acquired to build a school.
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