I fear this may be my last blog from Ghana; at this moment, I stand a very real risk of returning from Cape Coast late this Saturday night to find my belongings packed and awaiting me on the curb, pending the outcome of the Ghana-USA game.
No, no, of course not, but there are at least three truths in that statement:
a.Ghanaians are obsessed with “football,” especially with a World Cup on African soil;
b.as I have been reminded numerous times, the Yanks and the Black Stars are facing off on Saturday, and for that period of time, the entire country will stop and gather around the nearest tvs; and
c.I am unsure if I will be among that number, as I will, in fact, be in Cape Coast, joined in that venture by one of the fellows from the office, Franklin, who reportedly knows the area like the back of his hand. The trip will, somewhat unfortunately, be shortened to one very, very long day rather than two, so as not to scandalize the entire nation with the thought of a single Ghanaian man escorting a single obroni woman on an overnight trip; still, the company will be worth it, and I’m confident in our abilities to makes the rounds as best we can in what time we’ll have.
Before this weekend, however, it is only right that I update you as to what I’ve been up to. Short answer: reading day in and day out, with a smattering of adventuring on the weekends. I am on the verge of finishing editing for the second edition of the secondary school social studies textbook, and can honestly say it was quite the read – everything from Ghanaian politics and culture to finding myself much maligned as a youth, a foreigner, and the product of a now separated or “broken” family; according to the textbook writers, it seems this makes me quite the dysfunctional delinquent, heavily involved in drinking, hard drugs, petty crime, and general disturbances of the peaceful, traditional society. This particular delinquent, however, is the one who was editing the text…. Life is funny that way, isn’t it?
Next up in the world of editing is a continuation of the Sweet Valley High style text, with the new additions of a book on reducing poverty in Ghana and an art textbook, as I’m so ahead of schedule (the social studies text was to be finished by the end of my time here, and I have several weeks to go). Darn work ethic; the minute people realize you can do more, they excitedly give you more to do.
We have, however, missed out on relating my last two weekend adventures, namely a day in Aburi and an outing with the Danes. Though I am not known for consolidating my use of words (I love them too much), I can easily describe both as fantastic opportunities to see more of the Ghanaian countryside outside of Accra - wandering around the small mountaintop village of Aburi one weekend and checking out the Shai Hills Reserve and the Akosombo Dam in the Volta Region the next – and taking a look back at the US from the eyes of non-Americans.
Two weekends ago, Mr. and Mrs. Agyare and I set out for the village of Aburi, about two hour’s drive north of the center of Accra (and I specify “center” because it takes at least an hour, minimum, to get out of Accra). Aburi is Mr. Agyare’s hometown, the home of Aburi Botanical Gardens, and, that day, the site of a funeral for a distance relative; I was invited along to do some exploring during the day and come back from the end-of-the-ceremony type celebrations, which featured much chatting, singing, and dancing (live band, of course), and an insane amount of people, though I was informed it was considered a relatively small affair.
The traditional Ghanaian funeral lasts the entire day, starting bright and early with the ceremony most akin to those held in the US, though including some singing, followed by the entire party’s proceeding to the burial grounds, then back afterwards for a massive gathering of sharing condolences with the family, chatting with one another, and traditional singing and dancing – a celebration of life, it seems. (For those of you wondering: while I did not work up the courage to join the center dance area, Mr. Agyare’s elderly mother did sucker me in to dancing along with her as we gradually left our seats and the funeral grounds.)
The majority of my day, however, was spent at the Gardens, checking out the local crafts market and stand upon stand of fantastic woodcarvers, and wandering around the village with my escort for the day, Dotse, a fellow roughly my own age and rather eager to introduce me to all of his friends, in and out of local shops, businesses, and the Presbyterian missionary (where he worked) to do just that.
Perhaps just as interesting as exploring the village (with an excellent guide, as he’d lived there for the whole of his 20 years), however, was the conversation we ultimately struck up about the United States, Dotse’s perceptions of the country, and his ardent wish to go there for college and, ultimately, to settle. In short - truly, I could write chapters about the subject, but I’ll spare you the misery – while the world as a whole has been rather disillusioned from the “roads pave with gold” image of the US during the immigration boom in the early 20th century, the fact remains that the very name America seems to hold its power to some extent, particularly in developing countries such as Ghana. They’ve seen documentaries about gang violence and urban crime, they’ve seen the international community rage against us and our hegemonic tendencies, but still they look longingly across the ocean, hoping to get a glimpse of what it’s like in this freakishly notorious yet idolized country. Fascinating stuff, let me tell you.
So as not to evoke bloodshot eyes as I continue babbling, however, that will have to be set aside for the moment as we continue to Danes, dubbed by Mrs. Agyare as Lars 1 and Lars 2. In Accra on work (chiefly including meetings with Mr. Agyare), they invited me to join them for a day of exploring the Volta Region, and I, of course, happily accepted. Had you asked me one year ago, I never would have guessed I’d find myself sitting in the back of a truck, squished between two older Danish men named Lars, as we listened to World Cup commentary and drove into the Shai Hills Wildlife Reserve.
Driven by the ever-talented Atta, we set out for the dam in Akosombo, the creator of what is currently the world’s largest manmade lake, the Volta, and supplier of hydroelectricity in Ghana and neighboring Togo and Benin – indeed, you’ll find some Ghanaians slightly ruffled by the fact that a country without enough electricity for the whole of its own population is exporting it to its neighbors. Had you joined us on the tour of the dam, however, you’d also have learned that this is partially because some of the water making this possible originated in Togo.
The somewhat lengthy drive back to Accra was then broken up with a fantastic little trek into Shai Hills, where we were greeted by a large group of baboons, lazily sitting along the roadside and watching the occasional car drive by. Once in the reserve, we spotted a heard of antelope en route to the bat cave, which was quite the climb, and not at all claustrophobia-friendly… or friendly to anyone who had been gorging themselves on the local breads and fried foods, quite frankly, considering a few uncomfortably tight squeezes between boulders.
At this point, however, I believe I will cease my babbling and leave you to the photos commemorating the ventures…. Here’s hoping my Ghanaian internet allows them to load.
Until next time, all the best…. And be sure to tune in to the epic World Cup battling this weekend; USA v Ghana on Saturday and England v Germany on Sunday. “Intense” does not even begin to describe it, so grab your vuvuzela and join the rest of the world in the “football” bonanza.
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