The Ghana Solar Eclipse - Better late than never

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The Ghana Totality caper. (Experienced on 29th March 2006)

Going to Ghana wasn't something I'd ever considered, so when I answered Dr. Peter Martinez's phone call the last thing I expected was to be invited to join the South African team from SAAO to fly up to view a solar eclipse at the University of the Cape Coast in Ghana.

I'd once, in December 2002, tried to view a solar eclipse. We'd driven from Cape Town to Limpopo Province in the far North of the country, a three day drive, but had been thwarted by cloud. At the time I'd thought that that was the last opportunity I'd ever have to view totality, but thundering down the runway towards totality, I realise that I was totally wrong.

Ghana. An unknown quantity. Surfing the web doesn't answer all the questions that arise when looking at central African countries, where the questions I'd like to ask are about what to eat and how to survive. Of course they have malaria, yellow fever, hepatitus B and lots of other unhealthy stuff, but this is the 21st Century so it should be OK. Besides, Kofi Annan, is the chief person at the UN is from Ghana, so it must be an OK place, right?

Meantime, the reason for me being asked to join the delegation from SAAO is because I have filmed several things for them before, including a movie for their visitors center and an International press release for SALT, so the bonus is that, hopefully, I will finally get to see a total eclipse of the sun, and I get paid for doing it, which is better than the 2002 caper when Headspace had to finance the whole thing and we never saw anything, even though the trip itself was monumental. Three thousand kilometers each way is no small task, but then neither is flying into equatorial Africa.

The airport is nothing to write home about, especially at 1.00AM in the morning. It’s immediately unbearably hot, and I have a lot of equipment to carry. This is a bad combination, but not something that I have any control over as all four members of our science delegation have masses of equipment, including two telescopes, a sun-spotter device and a pelican hard case full of scientific equipment that takes two people to lift. Meantime, back at the airport, we hang arounf for an hour but no welcome signs and the throng eventually clears, leaving in sharp relief a sign which says ‘Beware Fraudsters’. Peter Martinez, our team leader, makes a call, and we are assured that the bus is ‘on its way’. It wasn’t the last time we’d hear that sentence in the next three days, but the bus does eventually arrive and deposit us at a hotel near the airport. I’m relieved just to stretch out on the bed under the aircon, which fortunately works so well that I have to turn it down to sleep.

A late breakfast ensures good spirits and we’re ready to go at the allotted time, which is 10.30 AM. Peter makes another call around noon, to be informed that the bus is ‘on the way’. It eventually arrives, at 1.30 PM, but we’re not too surprised because Peter had earlier alerted us to ‘rubber time scheduling’, which, he assures us, is prevalent in most hot countries. The bus is air-conditioned with big windows and our hosts, Joe the driver, and Bernice, the Dean’s personal assistant, are great. They speak excellent English, which is not surprising because it’s Ghana’s official language. En route we learn that there are eleven local African languages. The variety of people outside is amazing. Everyone dresses bright. There are stores and markets alongside the road for twenty clicks outside Accra, so the going is slow. The road gets better, then worse. It’s an amazing feeling being at the total mercy of strangers and feeling good about it, but this is the spirit of our mission, Peter, Lisa, Kevin and myself. We eventually arrive at our destination where thousands of students are waiting for the special glasses that Bernice has brought up from Accra. For a short time we’re in the middle of a stampede but the sun is setting so we dash up the stairs with our equipment in search of the department of astronomy. I’m melting but the heat is on in more than one way and it’s imperative that we case the dome before the morning, when the main show is starting at 8.00 AM. We know there will be no time in the morrow.

The astronomy departments dome is accessed via a circular metal stairs that makes carrying equipment difficult, but that’s not the only hard fact. If it is possible to imagine more heat than we’re already enduring, entry into the metal dome atop the University’s roof definitely moves us up another level. It’s like being inside a pressure cooker, and not only because there are at least a dozen people packed into it. We’re delighted to meet Paul and Johan from the CSIR in Pretoria who have been working like techno-hobbits in the dome for two days to ensure that the Ghanaian total eclipse webcast goes gets streamed as promised. These guys have endured, they tell us, two days in conditions that the French Foreign Legion could have used for boot camp training. Amazingly, they are in great spirits, though they confide to us that they haven’t eat or drank much during the day. I set up the HD cam, but miss the sun, so all I can do is make sure everything is in the right place and implore Peter to let us get to the hotel before we end up sleeping in some student dormitory. But there are a lot of Brass around, and it takes some while to extricate ourselves from the situation and by the time we get back to the blissfully air-conditioned bus it’s already after 9.00PM.

Checking in isn’t too difficult, even if I do get called ‘loud mouth’ by the concierge for daring to suggest that we get front facing rooms. It’s all very mellow though, with laughs going around, and the rooms are really nice. At dinner we do some networking with Professor Kennedy-Reece, the God Father of the whole event. I get to amuse him, so all is not lost. It’s midnight before we retreat to our rooms and tomorrow is our crack at totality so I ask reception to call me at 5.30AM, pack my kit very carefully, then, after a cold shower, I go horizontal.

6.00 AM is the pickup, but relying on the hotel to wake me had been a mistake as Kevin is banging on the door telling me everyone is waiting on the bus. Pulling on the clothes lying on the floor next to the bed, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and sling the already packed kit waiting next to the door. Half asleep, I hoof it out into 40 degree equatorial Africa where a busload of scientists are waiting for me.

The eclipse. My blood pressure is already off the gauge because accelerating from sleep to operating mode in less than 5 minutes is hard on the system but we make it to the astronomy dome on the roof off the University building before 6.30 AM and there’s still enough time to setup. The CSIR guys soon get the video stream going. This is the moment and it’s thrilling that we’re helping the whole world to see this awesome event over the net. By the time 8.00 PM arrives I’m ready to start filming, but some of the other film makers on the roof are having problems. There’s an American photographer who left her tripod behind, so I give her a live transmission out of one of the output slots of my Sony HD, and then there’s the girl from Trinidad and Tobago who brought her tripod, but left the attachment for the cam behind, so I lend her a roll of masking tape to Mcgyver the cam to the tripod without the base plate. It looks pretty messy, but it works. Peter and Lisa and Kevin are not on the roof with me, but down on the playing field, so besides the two South African guys from CSIR, I am basically alone. Nothing else matters as the eclipse begins and we all start filming.

For a start, there is quite bad cloud cover and I remember what it was like back in 2002 when I’d been unable to film the eclipse because of low cloud cover. However, the moon takes approximately an hour to completely cover the sun, during which time I get some nice sequences but when totality comes it is completely clear for the entire 3 minutes, during which time there are shouts and screams of wonder from all the spectators, plus we can hear those below on the playing fields quite clearly. I know the CSIR guys are streaming sound too so everyone is hearing what we’re hearing.

A total eclipse is a wonderful thing. Firstly, there is a flash before it becomes completely dark, and then the eerie silence, accompanied by flocks of birds who appear to be flying in very confused flight paths as they struggle to make sense out of darkness when there should be light. Approximately 20 degrees over the horizon, the black sun, with it’s ring of fire, hangs ominously before us, demanding our undivided attention. We know that totality only lasts approximately 3 minutes, so we’re all intent on watching. Meantime, the crowd at the astronomy dome on the roof has increased to include the Bishop of Ghana, the Dean of U.C.C. plus other obvious V.I.P. types, even if I don’t know exactly who they are. The mood and the spirit is fantastic. It seems like everyone is wearing their best smile, most friendly face, but Ghana’s people are really friendly so maybe I’m just carried away by the situation, like everyone else.

Three minutes of totality later there’s another big flash of sunlight as the sun starts coming back.
This is accompanied by more cheers from everyone. The small crescent of light slowly enlarges, until, an hour later, totality is gone and normality rules once more. This is good because by this stage I am totally exhausted. It’s been more than a two hour ride in the camera’s viewfinder. Coming here has been every bit worthwhile, not only for the solipse, not only for the technology we’d contributed, but also for the goodwill and fostering of good relations with our neighbors.

Peter Martinez still has a hard days work ahead of him, what with a three hour panel and a meeting with the Dean of U.C.C., but he finds time to give me the afternoon off, which is just as well because I barely make it back to the hotel with the 25 Kg’s of equipment I’m carting around.
I smash the first coke I try drinking because my hands are still shaking. Heat exhaustion can do that to you. I spend an hour in a shallow sleep under the air-conditioner before rousing myself to explore. Going back outside is like doing battle with a microwave oven, but I make it to the pool area of the hotel, where a film shoot is taking place. I try and remain the silent observer but the orange shorts and lime green T-shirt I’m wearing draw attention and it isn’t long before the camera man comes over and strikes up a conversation. Ghanaians are like that. I end up giving an impromptu digital film making workshop surrounded by the crew, who all come by and introduce themselves. It’s very gratifying to have so many young people hanging on my words, but what they really need is some financial assistance if they’re going to be able to produce anything. I try and steer the conversation towards how to get finance and (hopefully) offer some real-time suggestions on how to acquire better equipment. I also try and explain how one person now has control over the whole movie-making process. As advertised, everyone speaks fair English, so I think I’ve sewed some seeds for Indie film making in Ghana.

The following day is more relaxed, even though there is a mix-up with our transport arrangements and so we miss our tourist experience, which is a pity because there is an old Portuguese slave castle nearby that we’d been hoping to visit, also a game reserve with suspended platforms a 100 feet off the ground that I’d already decided not to risk. It’s 3.00 PM before the bus arrives, but at least it’s being driven by Joe, our original driver, and it’s air-conditioned. I should credit Joe with excellent skill. It’s another reason we’re happy to wait until the University decides that 8 of us, plus all our equipment, wont fit into a Toyota minibus.

We make Accra in excellent time, and get shown the monument to Akwame Nkruma, Ghana’s first president and hero, plus a short tour of the best part of the city. There’s plenty to see here but not in the dark, so we’re guided towards a 5 star hotel by Bernice where we have dinner. Then we are dropped at the airport to await our 2.30 AM flight back to Joburg.

The rest of the trip is the average travelers nightmare, so I wont bore you with how many hours we waited for various flights, but then coming home is always a good feeling.

Schwann
4/4/2006

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Comments

["poland"-dave]

good stuff mate!
Hey Schwannananda! ....good to get the update. Time being what it is (what IS it again?!), it mattered not that it happened a while back. You are an excellent story-teller if nothing else, and we KNOW you ARE definitely "SOMEthing else!". ;) Pop back up on chat system sometime again and check-in. Dasha and I are moved to the Black Sea and spending winters doing aid work in SE Asia. Would love to catch-up. Much love you and yours -david (david AT equilife DOT org) :))

[Abdalla Salia]

too fantastic
was too excited