Escape

September 11, 2006

While it was only my second weekend in Accra, I have to admit it felt good to leave the hustle of the city centre. I traveled with two girls, Liz and Laura from the east coast, to the Volta region. We left after I finished work and took a four hour tro-tro (minibus) to HoHoe (Northeast of Accra along the border of Togo). The tro-tro experience really requires its own blog entry so I will just mention that the highlight of the trip was the brief moment when the guy next to me leaned over just enough to allow my right leg to fully extend for an instant. The sun had already set when we reached our destination and we quickly learned that the city did not have any electricity for the night. The only light in Hohoe was the glow of the moon’s reflection off our pale skin and we looked like ghosts as we hesitantly found our way to the lodge.

When the electricity’s out in a rural area there is not really much to do except drink or sleep and luckily we managed to do both. Waking up, the town seemed to transform itself overnight. Growing up in Chicago I have become easily amazed at any landscape that is not brutally flat and I could only sit down and admire the mountains with lush trees crawling up their backs surrounding the region. Ambitiously, we attempted to see two ‘attractions’ around Hohoe, something that is quite unheard of in a country with a relaxed disposition and where getting somewhere is as much of an adventure as the destination. Our first stop was a hike to Wli falls, the largest waterfall in the country. The trail was littered with dozens of different species of butterflies and apart from a colony of ants that attacked us, the trail was accomplished with ease. The trail rewarded us with a striking waterfall all to ourselves and we played in the mist. We sat and let the flowing waterfall hypnotize us and then returned back into town to go to a monkey sanctuary!

We hit a uniquely Ghanaian detour on the way into the sanctuary in Tafi Tome as our entrance was blocked by a procession of the entire village chanting and dancing. Fifty girls sprinted past us into the woods and group of men jumping in a circle and playing instruments followed. The week before, a 14-year old boy unexpectedly died when he was tragically bitten by a snake. The ritual that we were witnessing was being performed because the villagers believed that the spirit was aimlessly wandering and they needed to relocate it to the forest. In the eye of the mass of people a lone woman walked balancing a pot atop her head where the spirit was thought to be trapped. After the spirits were satisfied we were able to follow a guide into the forest inhabited by the Mona monkeys. Laura had the foresight to buy a couple dozen bananas and it didn’t take long before we had cautious little monkeys eating out of our hands… damn I love monkeys.

Liz and I bought instruments from the village and Frances, our cab driver, entertained us by masterfully playing for us the entire way home. He started making clicking sounds with his mouth and then acting somewhat the monkey himself, began pounding his chest and elbows to create incredible music. The music consumed Frances and Liz nervously was forced to grab the wheel until Frances was finished. Frances followed us to dinner and we felt obligated to buy him a beer and he gratefully accepted our scraps of food. After dinner we had to kindly tell him to stop following us.

Sunday we traveled to Akosambo and took a six hour river cruise down the Volta complete with a full reggae/ highlife band that oddly played some covers of Elton John and Bryan Adams. After the relaxing trip we hitched a ride with the captain to the tro-tro station. When we felt the rhythm of traffic and smelled the spices from the market that always seems to be around the corner we knew we were home.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
September 12, 2006

I got off of work early Monday and met up with Laura and Liz at a nearby pool. 5 P.M. marks the seemingly innocuous swimming lessons at the Shangri-la hotel and an empty pool is quickly filled with over thirty Ghanaian men. The free swim ended when one of the more daring tread as much as he could muster and had to be dragged to the safety of the shallow end. I have never seen such a large group of uncomfortable adults in the water and the next hour could only be described as a cross between America’s Funniest Home Videos and Survivor. Lessons began by the men pairing up and assuming the wheel-barrel position. Cruel and unusual punishment soon followed as one of man in each pair assumed the unfortunate position of being held face first in the water, having to flail wildly to fight for breath. After they were all done experiencing what it was like to have someone drown you they were ready for some formal instruction. They got up out of the pool and in a painfully synchronized fashion took turns diving into the pool and then swimming back. If I have learned one thing in the last two weeks it is that Ghanaians are not fazed by belly-flops. Gracefully, they slowly lifted their hands above their head, stood on their tippy toes and proudly fell into the pool. Lessons continued like this for the next hour and I couldn’t help but watch.

I mention this swimming lesson for a few reasons. The slapstick quality of the lesson made me laugh but also I think it is daring and honorable to try learning a new skill such as swimming at such an old age. In their actions and emotions, Ghanaians seem to not be afraid to put themselves in a vulnerable position. Despite their ability, everyone seemed to have a great time and each time someone successfully completed a task the entire group enthusiastically cheered for one another – a testament to the communal spirit I feel everyday whether it be from my co-workers who insist on sharing their food with me, the stranger who is always willing to walk me to my destination when I am lost, or the reception, ‘you’re welcome’ (as in you are welcome here), that I hear every time I enter a new place. In fact, I’ve heard ‘you’re welcome’ so many times I feel it necessary to formerly say, ‘thank you Ghana’.

This entry is dedicated to Ted Mullin. While I had lost most contact with him since high school, I know his warm character and caring soul would not have hesitated to put his swimming ability to good use and jump in that pool and not get out until everyone had learned to swim. You will be missed.

Ted Mullin Cancer Research FundC/O University of Chicago Medical Center Development1170 East 58th St., Second Floor,Chicago, IL 60637, ATTN: Kevin Largent.