I think that it says a great deal
about the degree to which I have settled in here that, when off traveling on
the weekends, I have begun referring to our little spot here in Dodowa as
“home”. “When we get home, remind me
to…” I don’t have any here with me, but
I do have some at home…” It’s not just
the actual structure of the guest house that I think of when saying this, but
the people in the community and the general feeling I get around here. Stepping off the tro-tro after our weekend
excursion to Cape Coast, such a warm feeling of being back where I belonged
came over me, much like the feeling I get when returning to my actual house in
Pittsburgh after a long time away. It’s
more than just the relief that a six hour journey in cramped buses is over,
it’s coming back to this little town that has been a huge reason I am so happy
here. But enough of this love letter to
Dodowa…on to the main event of the weekend, our trip to Cape Coast!
Besides all
of the fascinating activities done this weekend, our most impressive
accomplishment, in my opinion, was the successful arrangement of our
transportation to and from Cape Coast.
Most of you know that I usually like to have a plan, especially when doing
something new. I like to know in my head
exactly what will happen, when it will happen, what it will look like when it
is happening, etc. You get the idea. So, being here in Ghana has surely been an
exercise in my ability to do things without much of a plan. For example, starting our journey on Friday,
we basically knew three things, courtesy of Oti: we had to get the tro-tro from here to
Medina, from there we had to find one going to Circle but get off at New Plan,
and that there then should be a place to get on a bus to Cape Coast. Despite being laden with a significant amount
of luggage (a note has been made to pack lighter for future trips), the first
part of that plan went off without a hitch.
The second part started well. We
found the right tro-tro, and told the mate where we wanted to get off, to which
he assured me “yes yes we’ll take you there, just sit down”. They dropped us off in a place that we
assumed was correct. Actually, strike
that. They dropped Erin and I off. Somehow, even though the three of us stick
out every where as clearly together in one group, the driver didn’t quite get
the memo that Hannah was getting off where we were, and started to drive on
while she was still on board. Slight
moment of panic, but luckily he had barely turned the corner before Hannah had
him stop again and let her off. Crisis
averted. Anyway, it quickly became clear
we were not exactly in the right place.
Sidenote: being in Ghana has also made me get over my aversion to asking
random people for directions, since usually I hate to be that annoying person
and many people at home aren’t nice when asked.
However, here, I have stopped hesitating to do so, since 1) we often
have no idea where we are and where we are supposed to go, and 2) people here are
actually really nice and helpful when you ask.
So, after questioning about a half dozen various bystanders, we came to
the conclusion that we had slightly incorrect advice from Oti and actually
should get the bus to Cape Coast from Keneshi.
Enter the third tro-tro of the day, for a thankfully quick ride. Once in Keneshi (which is absolutely PACKED
with vendors selling everything you can imagine-one lady had a very elaborate
tower of toothpaste and toothbrushes balance atop her head), we managed to find
the correct bus without too much trouble, and passed the time waiting for it to
fill by trying out some of the many snacks being sold by the vendors circling
the bus and trying to make a sale at all of the windows. We were also treated to the passionate sales
pitch of a man selling…mouthwash. I
thought that maybe he just really felt strongly about clean teeth, but then he
moved on to another product with just as much zeal: body wash. Go big or go home, right? He certainly knew how to talk up the most
mundane products that I would buy at Target without needing nearly that much
convincing. Anyway, our bus finally
pulled away and immediately hit traffic.
Which would have been a major bummer if not for the top-notch ninja movie
marathon that was playing. It had
everything: cheesy dialogue, the dumb blonde sidekick to the villain that turns
good in the end, the heroic father-son pair fighting for the family they had
lost to ninja attacks, Chinese throwing stars striking people in the face, and
some high-quality (sarcasm) special effects.
We also came to realize the enigma that is Ghana’s highways. They have speed bumps, like literally ten in
a row. You’d think that this would help
keep the speeds of the vehicles low to encourage safety. You’d be wrong. They might as well be the arbitrary bumps
that pop up on dirt roads, since the drivers fly over them regardless. So the speed bumps, by definition, aren’t
exactly doing their job, and as passengers, we were treated to a nice jostle
every five minutes from the boom-boom-boom-boom of a quadruple speed bump. Finally, six hours after we left Dodowa, we
arrived safely in Cape Coast, quickly found (correction: were found by) a taxi
driver who gave us a fair price to our hotel, and rolled into Baobab House,
much to the relief of the owners who had called us twice on the bus asking if
we were still coming. It turns out that
Baobab is in an awesome location in Cape Coast, and is always filled, according
to our taxi driver. Venturing briefly
back out to find fried rice and popcorn for dinner, we quickly settled in to
the five room house that is run by an NGO that supports the education of
children at the Baobab school and eventually gives them the opportunity to work
at the house and learn the hospitality business. It is also right next to Cape Coast castle,
half a block from the beach, and near the main bustling streets of the
town. Saturday came around bright and
early for all three of us, for we were woken up by what sounded like a marching
band parading through the streets at 6 AM.
When they made a second round at 7, we glimpsed their banner-it was a
fitness group encouraging everyone to get up and get moving. Appropriate, since we had quite the active
day on Saturday. We went by tro-tro to
Kakum National Park, about 45 minutes away, to do a canopy walk through the
rainforest. It’s basically a series of
bridges connecting various platforms in trees about 120 feet off the
ground. And when I say bridge, I don’t
mean a nice wide planked bridge on which two people could easily pass each
other. I mean a single board of wood
laid lengthwise over metal bars, with netting on each side to hold on to. The experience of literally looking down at
the tops of huge trees in the forest was AWESOME. To someone afraid of heights, not so
much. I’ll do my best to post photos as
soon as I have fast enough internet, but I think that even those won’t fully do
the experience justice. Following the
canopy walk, we headed to a monkey sanctuary, with a cab driver that we
successfully convinced to take us to the sanctuary and back to Cape Coast for
quite a good price. I know it might seem
weird how often I comment on getting good cab prices, but you have to
understand that as soon as a taxi driver sees an “obruni” (white person), he
knows how high up he can jack the price without you realizing you’re getting
ripped off. And since cabs are paid for
entirely based on the price you barter for, it’s difficult at first to know if
you are getting a good price, or to be able to get them to bring down a high
price. In fact, when trying to get out
to Kakum, before we found a tro-tro to take us, we were with another driver who
told us he would take us for 30 cedis (15$), to which a random man at the gas
station immediately interjected and yelled at the driver for trying to charge
too high a price. So at least other
people here look at for each other and will tell us when we are being
cheated. That collective spirit is
another of the many things I love about Ghana.
Back to the monkey sanctuary: it was, to put it mildly, a very
interesting experience. The European
woman who showed us all of the animals there (no pictures allowed, sadly) bore
a few nasty looking animal bites, and her invitation to stay for food or drink
at the end of our visit was answered with a resounding NO once we saw the half
dozen or so cats as well as a few monkeys living in her kitchen. In all seriousness, though, it was a
beautiful piece of land with some pretty cool animals (the names of which are
escaping me right now), and the few people running the place could not have
been more welcoming. The owner talked
about the animals like they were her own children, and clearly loved doing
exactly what she was doing. The view
from the top of the path up the hill was spectacular as well, the second
occurrence of the weekend for which the pictures will not do justice. The afternoon took us back to Cape Coast for
some lunch, then through the streets to the various fabric stands. I got more fabric for another dress, and
bought some other things, the identities of which I will not disclose since the
recipients (Jimbo and Mammy) are reading this blog. J Then, we went to the beach and climbed the
rocks outside of Cape Coast Castle for one of the best views of a sunset I have
ever seen. We were planning to visit the
castle in the morning, so seeing the outside of it was intriguing and made me
eager to see more. Something else
completely mesmerizing? The huge waves
crashing over the rocks on the beach.
Bringing the count of “picture wouldn’t do it justice” to three, the
waves were absolutely monstrous. Sunday
dawned sunny and warm, and after a quick (by Ghanaian standards) breakfast of
omelets at Castle Restaurant overlooking the beach, we made our way into Cape
Coast Castle. The term “castle” is more
than a bit misleading, since this is much more of a fort, which exchanged hands
between many European colonizers through the years and is most famous for its
role in the slave trade. About two
million slaves passed through Cape Coast Castle and the Door of No Return on
their way to the Americas. We saw the
male and female slave dungeons, where 200 people would be packed in a room the
size of a two-car garage, with two small windows 12 feet above providing the
only ventilation and light. I don’t have
any pictures of the inside of Cape Coast Castle-originally none of us wanted to
pay the extra charge required to take pictures, but in hind sight I would not
really have felt comfortable taking pictures of the things seen inside. Sure, the view from the castle out to sea was
spectacular, but I had no real desire to document the harsh realities that were
laid apparent in the dark, dank chambers in which so many suffered and
died. In stark contrast to those places
was the governor’s quarters, located at the highest point in the castle, where
light streamed through numerous large windows and high ceilings and marble
floors made the sights seen below that much more unnerving. Most ironically, the chapel in the castle was
built right over the male slave dungeons, and a hired servant would sit outside
the chapel during services and listen through a hole down into the dungeons to
see if the slaves were plotting to escape or rebel. The complex and dark history to the quiet
castle was fascinating to hear, and it is surely worth a visit (or at least a
quick Google search for everyone at home!).
This brought an end to our Cape Coast weekend, and despite the
insistence of our taxi driver to the bus station that “hardly any buses run on
Sundays and it could take all day for that whole bus to fill up with people and
leave so you should pay me 120 cedis to take you back to Accra instead”, I
asked people myself what the situation was like and once assured that it
wouldn’t take long and would only cost 4 cedis and 50 peswas, we assertively
sent our driver on his way and boarded the bus, which left a half hour
later. Not bad for three obrunis! Again, these travel accomplishments excite me
so much because there is nowhere to look up things like bus schedules or
tro-tro stops, so you are pretty much always figuring things out as you go, and
the uncertainty can make it difficult to travel efficiently and cheaply, since
“just taking a cab” could often be a much easier but much more expensive
solution. So, I’m very proud that we got
home today (a five hour journey) for about 6 cedis ($3) each. Our plans to come home and make spaghetti
were foiled by our still not-working stove and oven, and a brief power outage
had us all reaching for headlamps and lanterns, but the electricity is back on
now, my stomach is full of apples, Nutella, and plantain chips, and our running
water is on. Life is good.
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