Kofi Goes To Ghana

Fishing boats outside of Cape Coast

10am, January 10am, January 6th, 2012, overlooking the Atlantic from the cliffs of Ghana

In a few hours from now, I’ll be heading back to the Accra airport and then back to Liberia; back to the bush taxis, back to a chaotic school, back to bony fish. I like to think that my grasp of the obvious is as firm as the next guy’s, but I confess that I find myself surprised by my previous lack of appreciation for this small West African piece of paradise. After nearly two weeks here, it is nothing short of obvious that Ghana is unique in its culture and in its offerings for folks like me willing to traipse around and experience what there is to experience.

This happy discovery took place sandwiched between two unhappy events. First, I had planned to be in Ghana before Christmas but street riots broke out in Monrovia on my scheduled day of departure. After being turned around three times by angry youth, even the armored embassy car escort couldn’t get me to the airport in time to make my flight. The next available flight was two days away. Thus, I traveled late on Christmas day and found a small room in the bustling city of Accra before I could find Andy still waiting for me the next day in Cape Coast. Second, for my last two days here, I’ve been hosting some of Africa’s smallest fauna in my gut (for the extremely low price of a locally prepared meal in the village, you too can have an African enema). However, between these two anti-pleasantries, I found a slice of Africa that, like a longed-for lover, left me wanting more.

I had the good fortune to share these experiences (minus the riots and micro fauna) with my fellow Peace Corps Response cohort, Andy. One would think that living on a small south Pacific island for three years as a Peace Corps Volunteer would have given him soft feet and made him too accustomed to an idealistic life of comfort and excess to deal with Africa appropriately, but yet again, my firm grasp of the obvious failed me; it would be hard to imagine a better travel partner (alright, maybe the aforementioned longed-for lover).

Andy, waiting for the bus

After a few days of recovery time on the coast enjoying the salty water, soft sea breezes, abundant mangoes and daunting tours of 500+ year old slave forts, Andy and I submitted ourselves to 15 hours of… Nigerian movies. Along with the cost of the ticket, watching the same Nigerian movie over and over for 15 hours with the sound blasting is just part of the price you pay to travel by bus in Ghana. By the time we memorized the lines from the movie we were in Ghana’s arid, Moslem dominated north. Here we welcomed in the New Year with elephants, Grey-headed kingfishers and Aussies. As the clock ticked off midnight five hours ahead of the state’s east coast, I momentarily savored New Year hugs from two beautiful Aussie sisters only to have that pleasantness erased by a wet kiss on the check from their bearded brother-in-law.

One of the oldest mosque in Africa; 600+ years old

Then there was the 600 year old mosque with the 500 year old baobab tree and the 400 year old Koran. Then there was the slaughtered cow and the reception to welcome home two neighbors just returning from Mecca. Then there was the shea butter, the Kumasi market (largest in West Africa), Baboo’s Indian food, more mangoes, haircuts, Rastafarians and then the music. Ahhh, then there was the music. In a tiny little drum shop back in Accra, Andy and I rocked out with Moses and his friends. Moses has mastered his 2-string gourd thingy (Moses called it a 2-string guitar, I called it a 2-string banjo, Andy called it unbelievable). I think Andy is the only one right, but Moses whaled on the thing while his friends backed him up on drums, shakers and harmonies (stay tuned; as soon as I can find adequate bandwidth, I’ll share some videos).

Not a bad view from Cape Coast

Post script:
I loved Ghana and I can’t help but think that Ghana feels the same about me. Ghana liked me so much in fact that I was given a Ghanaian name. My new name was given to me by a taxi driver after we had adequately disclosed all the good and bad about Africa, Ghana, Liberia and the US and then came up with a few simple and effective ways to fix Africa’s corruption problems. He bought me a bag of cold water and delivered me safely and on time to the airport (without a single riot to slow us down!). He then gave me a smile, a handshake and a new name. I gave him a smile, a handshake and a big tip. I’m back home in Liberia now and in every one of my classes, students have commented (i.e. laughed) at my lopsided haircut I received in Ghana. Oh well. Next time Kofi heads off to Ghana, he’ll get his haircut before he goes.