The night I got The Fear.

A giant cockroach had me pinned against the bathroom wall and even though the little monster was at a safe distance away in the shower, I felt its tiny legs and tentacles crawl up my leg. Katie peered in through the doorway using the wall to shield her body in case the infestation decided to miraculously fly onto her face. Helpless, we just stared at the beast and tried to coax one another to rise above their squeamishness and squash the colossal bug. Finally, we agreed on a plan and Katie trapped the roach under the garbage can, its contents dumped on the floor, and I draped a towel over that to imprison our little intruder. We ran out of the bathroom arms flailing with the sound of my distinctively unman-like screaming reverberating in the room.

Glowing from our triumph over the insect, we valiantly agree to spend the next night camping out in the nearby rainforest at Kakum National Park. Late afternoon, we strut into the park and sit down at the aptly named Rain Forest Café to stuff ourselves full of yam balls before the restaurant and the park close at 5. The tourists clear out of the park with the setting sun and soon it’s just a Jew and a girl from the North Shore of Chicago facing the elements of the forest. Now the only patrons in the park, doubts begin to cloud my mind as the ranger points us to a dark path that leads to our campsite. He tells us that we are the only ones spending the night and hauntingly wishes us ‘good luck’.

We pause at the base of the trail before getting swallowed into the depths of the vines and trees and I gave Katie a look of encouragement that masked my desire to turn around. As I try to keep our sprits high by telling Katie how amazing it is to have the whole rainforest to ourselves tonight, a bearded man wearing a soiled shirt and tattered green shorts strode past us through the entrance. With swelling determination he walked up to a tree and began callously hacking at it with a machete with undeniable passion and no discernable purpose. I tried to ignore the ominous sight and pushed the thoughts of machete man out of my mind as we began our 15 minute hike into the forest to our camp sight. We didn’t speak of the hardhearted machete wielding man and I clung to the hope that Katie didn’t see him.

We raced the setting sun to set up our campsite. Three slim mattresses sitting on a platform six inches off the ground and covered with a mosquito net (with holes in it ineffectively patched with band-aids from past campers) awaited us. It was my idea to spend the night at the park, but as I was shaking the mattress off of all its dirt and animal droppings the best I could do was feign excitement for ‘roughing it’. The darker it became the louder the forest grew to be and when the canopy consumed the dying sun the noise was deafening.

There’s not much to do in the rainforest at night and we tried to pass the time by drinking from a flask of vodka. I make another comment about how fun this is and Katie doesn’t even humor me with a response. After passing the flask back and forth with no words spoken between us, I shed any notion that we are drinking socially. We are now just taking sips to dull our senses and rid ourselves from the paranoia that is beginning to mercilessly set in. It didn’t work, and Katie took solace underneath our sheets. It was so dark I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face but I remained perched upright at the foot of our platform, face pressed up against the mosquito net, eyes crazily fixated on the emptiness of night.

I thought I’d be plagued by thoughts of spiders biting me and centipedes using all their tiny legs to march on my face or at least afraid of a warthog running through our camp or a Jaguar devouring us. But instead, with great intensity, I focused on even greater irrationalities. Katie and I seldom spoke and although there was no one around us for miles we communicated via cautious whispers. I continued my blind stare out our platform scrutinizing the darkness. The thoughts of the machete man paralyzed me. Every branch falling became his footsteps getting nearer, every gust of wind that rustled the trees was his mad search for us, and every move I made was potential to give away our position in the woods.

Refusing to turn on my flashlight I fumbled around for my bag in search of my Swiss Army knife. Machete man was out there dammit, and he is used to navigating around the forest in the darkness! With intense concentration I unzipped my bag one agonizing notch at a time. Katie broke our silence by asking what I was looking for and I was relieved that her question barely came across as a murmur. Unable to admit that I was searching for a knife to protect us from the imminent attack from a machete wielding maniac that she may have not even seen in the first place I lied and said I was looking for some mints.

She pleaded for me to lie down next to her and I reluctantly left my watching-post and curled up next to her. She didn’t say a word, only grabbed my hand and led it to her violently beating heart. She understands! I wanted to reveal my enduring torture. I wanted to tell her that we need a plan. I fought the urge to advise her that if something should happen we don’t think twice and leave our things behind to run through the forest towards the nearest road. That help would certainly arrive if we could just make it to the road. I wanted to ask if we should leave, if she had heard something or someone circling our bed. Did she see the crazy man when we entered the forest? Instead, I just rested my hand on her heart again and resented being put in a position of consoling when I was quite literally about to shit myself – too scared to venture out to the toilet 20 meters away.

Still, I tried to snap out of my downward spiral into insanity and assuage our fears with rational thought. “Katie, this is a government run park” I told her. “They wouldn’t let tourist sleep her if it wasn’t safe.” Shifting the attention away from murder, I added ‘there are no animals in here that can hurt us’.

Katie replied by pressing that we were in a rainforest in Africa and not Yellowstone National Park in Montana. “There aren’t exactly the same safety regulations, you see” she explained. She went on to point out that we were allowed a self guided tour at the government protected Ussher fort where we climbed crumbling stairs and walked along narrow balconies with the banisters long ago ripped off. She reminded me about looking through the abandoned fort’s kitchen and only upon our exit being warned not to enter that area because they are waiting for the roof to cave-in. “Besides, wasn’t that a government operated bus we were riding with no seatbelts and the cabin filled in with smoke and we nearly crashed.” Damn….she had a point.

It was unmistakable now. Something or someone was definitely slowly and calculatingly walking over the woodchips around our tent. I kept silent, thinking that if I didn’t confirm it with words than whatever was out there would remain some intangible harmless thought within my paranoid brain. Katie finally whispered, “Did you hear that?” I held her tighter with one arm and gripped my knife with the other. I tried to rationalize our situation with her by talking about war and how unjustifiably scared we were right now. I tried to philosophize about the stars and night to change the subject. Nothing worked to subdue the fear and I forced myself to sit up to resume my watch at the base of our bed.

And then it happened. In an instant, the depth of the forest illuminated with a greenish glow and after a brief moment the light collapsed on itself somewhere in the immeasurable distance. But for that fleeting moment, I could see everything surrounding us with great clarity. There was no machete man in the vicinity and the forest actually looked quite serene. With a dropped jaw, I concentrated my focus back out into the forest to try to fathom an explanation for the mysterious light. I turned to Katie and asked if she saw the strange sight, but she was burrowed underneath our sheets hiding from whatever was lurking around. She got up and like two crazed predators we stalked the night looking for the source of the light.

Moments later, we both see a contained glow in the near distance effortlessly and silently flying amongst the trees. The light seemed to be about the size of a large bird and a freakish glowing bird was just what I thought it was. And then the light flickered and disappeared.

We grabbed each other’s arm and helplessly sat there. We didn’t dare move. After a few endless minutes the light came back and maneuvered around right in front of us! It changed directions back and forth so much that I ruled out any chance of it being a bird. Soon after, the bastard began circling our campsite and Katie insists that it rested right on top of our roof. For some reason I can terrify myself with far fetched ideas of murdering jungle men but when a mysterious and unidentifiable glowing orb is circling me in the middle of the rainforest I just find it oddly peaceful.

When we were confident it had finally left I softly exclaimed to Katie, “Wow! We just saw an alien!” unnecessarily adding a new element of horror into our evening. With an almost fanatical conviction, Katie contended that it wasn’t an alien but was in fact a spirit. She explained that the spirit was most likely from the two slave castles we had visited that weekend no more than 30 miles away. If anywhere was to be possessed with lost spirits it would be those damn slave castles and the long treacherous trail it took to get there.

Slowly the forest turned on me once again and any incongruent sound enraptured me. Orbs of light and machetes were too much to handle in the rainforest alone. I reached into my bag of tricks and fed Xanax to me and Katie that I had to knock myself out on the plane and we finally submitted to sleep. We woke up early the next morning and I checked to see if I was wearing the same clothes or if my butt hurt and any other signs of alien abduction. Sure enough the ranger came for our 7am appointment for our guided hike confirming at least that time has elapsed as it should. I asked him if there was any animal in the forest that could produce such a glow and he just shrugged and showed me what a cocoa plant looks like.

One of the perks of sleeping in Kakum is that you get private access to the famed canopy walk before the park even opens. The walk consists of several long bridges suspended high above the forest canopy allowing a unique view of the woods from above. I had done the tour months earlier with Liz and Laura and the ranger then gave a long speech about safety. He reassured the group by enumerating all the regulations and explained that a ranger inspects the bridges first thing every

morning to ensure everyone’s safety.

Well, our guide had to unlock the entrance to the canopy so we knew we were the first ones there. Then, he tells us he has to go unlock the exit and he’ll meet us on one of the suspended platforms in the middle. I just laughed and took the responsibility of checking for the bridges durability by jumping up and down on each walkway. It was secure. We stood on platform number 3 and watched for monkeys. Our frustrated guide told us that he knew they were around, but they were being stubborn. ‘Look, you’re standing in their feces right now’, he cheerfully pointed out.

We never did see any monkeys and I was just happy to have survived. Katie and I gratefully left the park and visited an alligator sanctuary where we had breakfast and talked about how crazy and pathetic we had been the night before.

We continued on our trip heading further west along the coast and were back in Accra on January 6th to celebrate Aaron’s birthday with his family who were visiting. Sitting at the dinner table we try to explain to Marta and Rob how terrifying our ordeal was since they had recently recommended it to us and billed it as the best sleep they had in Ghana. The table seemed interested in our forest episode and after a series of prodding we reluctantly revealed our sighting of the mysterious orb of light. Aaron, who had visited the park a couple of weekends prior, passed around a picture he had taken which gave us the chills. The picture was of a plaque that was displayed in the small children museum in the ranger station.

It reads: The mysterious mmoatia


A flickering light in the distance or a whistling sound may signal the presence of the mmoatia, one of the best-known forest spirits. With their black, red, or white coloring, and feet pointing backward, these foot-tall dwarfs will make mischief with unwary travelers.

Be it light, aliens, spirits, or foot-tall dwarfs – I am never going back to Kakum National Park.

Da Trip

You didn’t ask for it but here’s a day by day description of my holiday trip.

15th – I learned a valuable lesson while I was in a rush to pick Katie up at the airport: Don’t tell cabdrivers you’ll dash them more money to go faster. Stoplights were a mere afterthought and lines of traffic were bypassed on narrow dirt shoulders which was almost as disconcerting as the driver’s manic laugh. I got there in record time and then promptly waited 3 hours for the delayed flight.

16th – Katie confessed that she is afraid of Ghana and made me promise that I would never leave her side.

Toured the Kwame Nkrumah Mausoleum (first president of Ghana) which remains to be the only relaxing open green space in Accra and thus a haven for wedding photo opportunities. I got to see a bride spit which for some reason is still a noteworthy experience. If you ever wanted to view Nkrumah’s old mattress or see your own reflection in the wall mirror that he had in college than the attached museum is a must see.


We visited Ussher Fort which began as a slave trading post and later was converted into a prison that has housed three former presidents. Seeped in more history than Alcatrez you can be free to wander the premises, climb the disintegrating staircases, and investigate the dated cells with a dollar tip to the watchman. Last time I was ushered into the fort by a random man on the street who gave us a tour that he seemingly made up as he went along. I did the same for Katie.

17th – . While there are plenty of things to experience in Accra there aren’t many things to do from a tourist’s perspective. Nevertheless, we went across town to climb an old unused lighthouse that offers stunning views of people bathing in their unroofed showers. Our 'guide' shown on the left.

18th- Brought Katie to the crèche and the cute and friendly kids seemed to assuage Katie’s fears of Ghana. Katie went though proper initiation rights by being peed on. My co-workers were truly excited to meet her and with standard Ghanaian friendliness they embraced her with hugs and enthusiastic smiles and welcomed her to their country. People don’t seem to grasp the idea of a ‘girlfriend’ here so for the rest of the trip Katie becomes my fiancé or wife.

Katie meets my friends for the first time at dinner and spends the evening pouring drinks out of a flask for herself under the table. She is the only one to get drunk.

19th - Went to Creche again that day for the last time in the year. Finished packing and took a bus to Kumasi, the second largest city in Ghana. Katie fell asleep and drooled so much on my lap that it made it look like I pissed myself. I was too embarrassed to get up during the bathroom stop and nearly pissed myself. Arrive late at night in Kumasi. Katie gets first mosquito bite.

20th – The first thing I had to do in Kumasi was secure bus tickets to leave the city and travel further north. Arriving at the bus station, I took my place in line behind a lurch-like Obruni who was traveling to the same place. Due to the holiday season tickets were sold out for the entire week…eep. Katie, Lurch, and I join forces and hail a taxi and go to a different bus station where we encountered a police checkpoint where the lawmen find something afoul if it suits them. In a city where people cram 8 people into a taxi, traffic lanes are merely a suggestion, and going as fast as the road allows is the practiced speed limit our driver was cited for not wearing proper foot attire (sandals instead of boots). Our driver grabbed a fistful of bills and left to plead for sympathy. Just as fast, a stern policeman sat at the driver’s seat and bluntly said ‘your driver has been arrested. Where would you like to go?’ Before the policeman could drive us away the driver escaped arrest with a 30,000 cedis bribe. In the end, we couldn’t buy tickets for the bus till the next morning anyway.

Next, we walked through the largest market in West Africa looking for nothing in particular. This was like a small claustrophobic city divided into sections of stalls where everyone sold exactly the same thing. Maybe it was because we got lost in the shoe polishing area and inadvertently got high off the fumes but we found it nearly impossible to find our way out of the sprawling vendors.

A kind man walked us for 20 minutes to the cultural center where they have a lot of curios made by local artists. The cultural center in Kumasi is what the cultural center in Accra would be if all the vendors took massive doses of pain killers. I enjoyed the passiveness and indifference displayed towards us so much that I bought a painting.

Visited an old English fort that was converted to a military museum and housed an odd and eclectic collection of weapons acquired by Ghanaian military in their various campaigns including the crude weapons used in the Rwandan genocide. The exhibit also proudly displayed a soldier’s ration pack from the Ghanaian tour in Burma which the soldier apparently saved and lugged though battle for the duration of the war and left uneaten, surviving on snakes and bamboo shoots because he found the ration pack that interesting. When the man returned home safely he discovered his love of hats and began collecting what would soon be the world’s largest collection, putting him in the Guinness Book of World Records and making him the ‘world’s coolest person’ according to Rob. It was a great tour except that the curator periodically quizzed us to make sure we understood what was going on. We never really understand what is going on and were shamed out of the museum.

Back at our hostel one of the employees had a crush on Katie. Desperate to see her, he knocked on our door at 11:00 to hand us a complimentary roll of toilet paper. Thoroughly sketched out, we locked the door and went to bed.

21st – Woke up to the pitter patter of rain but it turned out to be the bathroom leaking. Katie and I opted to charter our very own tro-tro to take us directly to Mole National Park with lurch and two other Americans that we had met the previous day effectively saving us an entire day of traveling with public transport. The farther north we went the more rural, drier, dusty, and bumpy it became. Six hours into our trip with only 2 more to go our tro-tro had to stop for crossing cattle and stubbornly refused to start. Little Miss Sunshinesque we had to push the van until it was able to shift gears and one by one hop into the tro. We had to stop in the next village which allowed us to take a picture of this man so all was not lost.

Since we arrived at the park a night early we did not have reservations and unfortunately the place was packed. Instead of leaving defeated we just stood there for an hour looking sad and depressed until they would accommodate us. As it turns out, they cleared a storage room out for us and laid mattresses on the bed for the five us.

The first night, in a series of bloodthirsty nights, for the love affair between Katie and the mosquitoes. Bite count after the night: 65

22nd – Woke up at 6am to depart on a walking safari through the park! Probably the best deal in Ghana, a two hour tour where you are guaranteed to at least step in some elephant poop cost us a little over a dollar each. Everyone in our ten person group seemed to get swept up in the excitement of the safari and all tried to walk as stealthy and quiet as possible. However, our guide’s cell phone kept ringing and he picked it up every time for extended explanations about why he can’t talk on the phone. Despite the intrusions, we saw warthogs, alligators, baboons, antelope, and a bunch more less interesting animals. Luckily, the ranger’s last cell phone ring was to inform him that elephants had been spotted right outside the hotel! We trekked back up the same path we hiked down and were face to face with two wild elephants. Me and Katie kept creeping closer and closer to the wild beasts until
the elephant turned toward us and threatened to charge. The ranger instinctively drew his gun on the great beast and we instinctively got the fuck away from the elephants.

After lunch we rented bicycles and within a minute my chain had fallen off and the brakes stopped working. We both fell off our bikes but eventually made it to the closest village: Larabanga. Larabanga is an interesting small village where everyone is Muslim and they speak their own unique language. The focal point of the village is an ancient mosque replicating Sudanese architecture supposedly built in 1421, making it the oldest extant building in Ghana.

Survived the bike trip back to Mole just in time to see a group of monkeys playing outside our room. They allowed us to get within a few feet of them and we watched them chase each other in circles, pick bugs out off each other’s backs, and jerk off. So like us.

23rd – Woke up at 3:45am to catch the only bus out of the park which leaves at 4am and it incredibly left on-time. Northern Ghana has its own unique climate and it was freezing outside in the early morning. Shortly into the ride the bus stopped and herded us onto a bigger bus amidst mass confusion and angry passengers. We surrendered to the flow as usual and had to trust our bags would follow us but were actually handed money as we boarded the bus (a first)!

A peace corp friend of mine has been developing an eco-tourist village tour program so we gladly called the guide to check it out. It turned out to be the highlight of the trip and really is worthy of its own blog entry but here’s a brief explanation anyway. Our guide, Walisu, was so grateful for our participation and all the villagers were terribly welcoming and happy to see us. We had visited the eco-tourist project with two Obruni girls that we had met and most of the older men assumed that I was touring their village with my three wives. We were shown demonstrations in pottery, shea butter extraction, and palm nut oil distillation. Then, we visited the home of the oldest woman in the village who, despite her age, occupies her day with the tedious task of spinning cotton by hand. Her wasted shaking hands produced about a dollar of profit in 2 weeks and I was compelled to purchase some cotton from her to always remember the deplorable sight. Throughout our excursion a steady beat and faint chants could be heard from a distance. Walisu informed us that the community had organized for their weekly dancing and drumming. We asked him if we could watch and as he excitedly led us toward the music he turned to me and said, “I can tell you are a good dancer. I can’t wait to see you move.” I tried to explain to him that I lacked moves and that I was in fact moveless, but he refused to listen. My palms turned clammy and my heart matched the intensifying drum beat as we neared the celebration. Walisu had to ask the chief if we could attend the session and the man ceremonially handed us a kola nut to welcome us. The men all wore Bimnaa traditional aprons that accentuated every twist of their bodies as they performed their dance. Dust engulfed the dancers as a woman devotedly laid water beneath their feet. After the performance, I was given the traditional outfit and was mercilessly dragged out of my seat. I began to imitate the dance moves I had just witnessed and immediately the circle of hundreds closed in around me as they riotously cheered and shouted in enthusiasm.
Walisu told me that it is customary to show your appreciation to the musicians by paying them a small amount as you danced. The villagers pointed to the ensemble of the dozen drummer’s foreheads and I went around slapping bills to their faces. Then, I became a cheap male dancer for hire. Woman poured out of the circle to press coins against my face and body and wholly befuddled, I just kept dancing for them. At that moment Katie danced into the circle with a bill suctioned onto her forehead and with mounting enthusiasm from the crowd we placed our foreheads together to transfer the bill and in a perfect moment locked eyes and just enjoyed being in this bizarre scene together not knowing what the fuck was going on. Katie then took her turn in the middle of the circle.
I asked Walisu if the talking drums were in fact talking during my performance and he explained that the talking drums were asking me what dance I liked. I think I might have confused the drums by responding with ‘spastic white boy boogie’.

24th – Decided we wanted to make it back to Accra for Christmas and boarded a 14 hour bus ride back home. The bus played a movie that starred the Nigerian equivalent to Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen except these two twin boys deviously sabotaged their evil step-sisters relationships and then framed them for breaking the house rules which led them to be beaten by their father. Then the boys stole their father’s life savings and celebrated with a painfully long 3 minute scene of them grinding and gyrating to music on their bed. The plot must have gone over our heads because everyone hysterically laughed and we were just disturbed.

25th – Christmas was spent with my neighbors who lovingly cooked dinner. Then, we exchanged gifts and danced around the streets with sparklers singing happy birthday to Jesus.

Katie’s bug bite count: 93.

26th – On the road again. Destination: Cape Coast. Splurged on a hotel and experienced my first hot shower since I’ve been here. Took four showers.

27th – Took a day trip to the neighboring city, Elmina, to visit the oldest building in Africa and the sight of a former Portuguese turned Danish castle and horrific slave trading post. We climbed up to the Governor’s balcony where he would order all the female slaves to assemble in the courtyard and picked one to be cleaned so he could rape her to death.
Crawled into the ‘condemned cell’ where troublesome slaves were literally crammed into a tiny dark room where they were not fed and
temperatures soared. The original skull and cross bones that decorated the entrance is a testament that no one left that room alive. Next, we were shown the group cells where the slaves were forced to eat, sleep, and relieve themselves. Filled with as many bodies as the room could physically hold, a large percentage died from disease and exhaustion. Dead bodies were tied to rocks and thrown into the sea while the survivors eventually left though the Gate of No Return in the largest forced Diaspora in history.

That night, Katie hurriedly tip-toed out of the bathroom and frantically pointed to an oversized roach that had crept its way into our luxury. We both helplessly stared at it, both too squeamish to squash the infestation. After a long bout of staring, Katie threw the garbage can over it and I draped a towel over that, and we ran away screaming and shut the door.

28th – Glowing from our triumph over the cockroach we decide to take on nature by camping out in the rainforest at Kakum National Park.

But before we left, we toured the British answer to Elmina castle which was a fort with even larger cells to hold more cargo in the form of African slaves.

See future post for details on the fear that is Kakum National Park

29th – Thrilled to see another day we were rewarded with a private ‘canopy walk’ maneuvering along a series of suspended bridges 40 meters off the ground and spying on the forest below.

High-tailed it to the beautiful beaches of Axim. Opted for the ‘village rooms’ as the budget option at the hotel and learned that village rooms was not a euphemism for basic lodging but was in actuality a room in between two villagers.

Took a 2 hour canoe trip to visit a village that is built on stilts. As it turns out, the villagers had migrated from Mali centuries ago escaping conflict. They built their village on the water to protect them against attacks. Why they still are living on stilts remains unanswered.

Experienced a perfect sunset.

30th – Arrived in the coastal town of Busua. Busua is set on an attractive and safe beach that is dominated by hotels and people leaching on to the tourist industry there. The first person to greet us was a guy that referred to himself as Dan the Pancake man and made us promise to come and buy his pancakes. Later, we met a desperate man who called himself the juice man who would harass you to buy his fresh juice and became irate at every refusal. Still later, we met the Pants Man who sewed pants out of flour bags which I couldn’t resist buying. Spent the afternoon looking for the muffin man and Duff man but they remained elusive.

31st – Another New Years Eve away from home. We treated ourselves to a nice dinner and spent the night drinking at our hotel and ran out to the beach to ring in the New Year. There was no giant clock to cue in the new year and the various cliques that littered the beach failed to synchronize their watches. Over the span of 4 minutes there were 9 separate countdowns accompanied by their own fireworks. Later, Katie throws up the most expensive meal we had eaten in Ghana.

1st – Hungover, we stumble into paradise two towns over in Akwidaa. The Green Turtle is an eco-lodge set along an idyllic palm lined beach. There are about 10 bungalows that are solar powered, the shower water is recycled to water the plants, and the self composting toilets smell really bad.

Katie bite count: 121

2nd- I’m woken up early in the morning by Katie fighting with the door like a lunatic. She is pulling at the door and frantically exclaims “The key broke off in the lock and we’re locked in!!” Caring more about sleeping at that moment than our impending doom I rolled over to go back to bed but Katie pleaded for me to get up and uttered the four words that makes any trapped experience all the more excruciating: “I have to pee”. I started to crack up but I was quickly reprimanded with a stern look that implored me to get out of bed. By the time I reach the door Katie is already holding her crotch and kicking her legs high as she does her pee-pee dance around the room. Now, I just lose it and am getting tears in my eyes from laughing. Katie laughs too, but begs me not to make her laugh and make it worse. I go over to the door and sure enough the key is hopelessly jammed into the lock. I turn to Katie and as she carries on her pee-pee dance she screams, “Brian, it’s an emergency!”
I look out the window and no one is around. We were not left with many options. I start to ram my shoulders into the door to try to break the door down hoping that the entire bungalow won’t come crashing down if I succeed. Katie’s just dancing there the entire time stuck repeating a mantra of, “I gotta go, I gotta go.” As I continued to bust the door down Katie exclaims, “I can’t wait. Hurry, find me something to pee in!” I’m hysterically laughing as I glance around the room which had virtually nothing in it. The best I could do was hand her a wicker basket. Not wasting any time and not really carrying about the gaping holes in the basket she pulled down her pants and peed in the basket in the middle of our bungalow. It was then that we figured out that our room was slanted as her pee slowly trickled out of the basket and escaped out the door. A satisfied Katie stood up and told me how good that felt. We tried our best to clean up our pee stained bungalow before calling out the window and getting someone to rescue us. The lock was later fixed that night but we agreed to stop locking it.

3-6th – Go boogie boarding, hike to a secluded secret beach, and lay in the hammock enjoying the beach before heading back to Accra.

7th We celebrate Aaron’s birthday via a nice dinner that his parent’s treat us to and then rush to the airport. I grudgingly say goodbye to Katie who leaves with over 135 mosquito bites. She left me feeling homesick for the first time in Ghana. Then, I lost my phone which further added to the feeling of alienation, but at the time of writing I keep keeping on and am doing great. My new number is: 011.233.246939904