Advertisement
On Friday (3rd July 09) me, Fionnuala and Aishu left to go Ada Foah, a little paradise on a peninsula of the Volta estuary, which can only really be reached by boat (or a hefty trek from the mainland). We went to Tema Station in Accra to try and catch up with the others (about 10 of them) but by the time we got there they had already got on a tro, so we had to wait for the next one to Ashaiman, and get another tro from there to Ada Foah, where we would be picked up by a guy called Tio, who would take us to the camp on his powerboat.
Another tro came along after a few minutes,so we got on it and waited for it to fill up (they don’t leave until they are completely full!).These longer-distance tro-tros are slightly bigger than the local ones, and have 2 seats either side of an aisle, but when these seats are filled, more passengers sit on fold-down chairs in the aisle - very cramped and would not be good if you are claustrophobic as they always aim to fill every seat! You normally have to sit with your
luggage on your lap too as there is no luggage hold. Next time I will travel extremely lightly!
The tro set off shortly after 4:30pm, probably the worst time to try and get out of Accra because the rush hour traffic can be horrendous. Ghanaian traffic jams always make for a more interesting journey than they would at home, however - great for people-watching. Plus, if you get hungry or thirsty there are plenty of street sellers taking advantage of the congestion. Next time I am stuck in a traffic jam on the M5 or M6 I’m sure I’ll miss it! A few minutes after pulling out of Tema Station we hit major congestion and were stuck at a big, crowded crossroad for ages - the lights were working but no-one was obeying them because such little traffic was being allowed through - chaos ensued, an actual trafficmare! An impatient line of traffic from the left-hand side of the junction had attempted to go across but had nowhere to go on the other side due to more congestion ahead, so they were stuck in the middle blocking the junction. No yellow box junctions here lol. No-one moved for a
while. I was sitting by the window and watched a young windscreen-washer boy meticulously try to fix his squeegie so he could earn a living from the hundreds of people stuck at the junction. Such a shame that he spends his days trying to earn a living washing windscreens at traffic lights at his age (I reckon about 12) instead of getting an education, especially when you think of all the kids at home who don’t appreciate theirs. We were stuck there long enough to see him fix his squeegie and get back to work, which was good.
The lights still hadn’t changed from red, but the tro in front of ours decided to move now that the cars blocking the way had cleared, so our tro followed, but cars from all directions had the same idea, causing a motorbike and a taxi to collide. Now, when something like this happens in Ghana, people in the tro will not just sit back, possibly gasp and try not to get involved - full-blown exchanges will happen! For about 5 minutes every Ghanaian on the tro was shouting, arguing and pointing, probably debating whose fault the accident was (they were speaking
Rum Island
Me with some of the local children.in Twi). But the biker was fine and as we started moving again the Ghanaian passengers calmed down. A similar event happened much later on in the journey when a Ghanaian lady was arguing with the mate about where she wanted to get off, which was an issue between themselves, but a man in front of us joined in the argument (followed by a few more people) and started shouting at the woman saying she should have made it clear where she wanted to get off when she had got on the bus. Ghanaians are passionate, and very vocal! I can’t imagine that happening on a Travel West Midlands bus, most people try their best not to get involved! Roundabouts get congested easily here; we experienced this later on after changing tros at Ashaiman bus station, and spent even longer stuck in traffic (almost half an hour!),not moving at all. Traffic police were attempting to ease the congestion but hadn’t let our lane go for a ages, so loads of people shouted at them once we had finally got through!
One of the guys from the other group had waited for us at Ashaiman tro station to catch the
Rum Island
Walking back to our boat... next tro together, which was nice of him. Whilst waiting for the tro, me and Fionnuala decided to go to the public toilet because the next leg of the journey was going to be the longest (it was just as well we did considering the traffic!)….but oh my god it was the toilet of nightmares! We paid 10 pesewas each (about 4 pence) to go to the most disgusting toilet on earth (there probably is worse out there really lol). High ceilings, pretty dark, unidentifiable drips dripping on you, terrible stench, wet floors, eurgh. And local women were walking around in bare feet. It was a squatter latrine, with white plastic blocks to squat on and nasty pools of ‘stuff’ around the base. Nice. I looked in another cubicle and there was shit everywhere, so the one we went in was clean in comparison lol.
Anyway, after a conversation with some street vendors and a random man who’d lived in London for 12 years, we got on the back seats of the tro and waited for it to fill up. After about 2 and a half hours of dodging pot holes and sleeping goats in complete darkness we arrived in Ada Foah, and waited for Tio to pick us up and take us on his boat to the camp. Just to pick up on the toilet point, it reminds me Ghanaians have no problem talking about toilet activities with you. Aishu asked for a toilet,and a man asked if she wanted to “uuuriiinate or sheeeet” (they had different toilets for these activities). The ‘number 2’ toilets were locked, and the ‘urinating’ toilet did not look appealing; the bush looked cleaner and safer. People also have no qualms pissing and shitting in the open sewers which line every street, in full view of everyone.
We rode on the boat in pitch black, Tio was following a distant light which turned out to be the camp fire at our destination. We arrived to the sound of the resident Rastafarian Yahweh (which means God) playing his drum on the beach, smoking a spliff and singing Bob Marley. Even in the dark the place looked like paradise. We got a beer from the little bar and sat and listened to Yahweh, along with the other volunteers who were already there.
The next day, Tio took us all on his boat around some surrounding islands, and to the sea. The side of the peninsula where the camp is, is by the estuary which is really calm, and mostly fresh water, but on the other side is the raging sea. The currents are really strong in Ghana and be dangerous to swim in. At night the roar of the sea was so loud it actually sounded like a main road to me! At one particular point on the becah you can see the calm estuary water to the left and the strong sea waves to the right. Its quite odd to look at, because it looks like the waves are crashing into more water. After that beach we had a longer ride further up the estuary to Rum Island...where they brew a nice local rum made completely naturally from sugar cane which grows on the island. We all had a tester and most of us ended up buying a 1.5 litre bottle for 8cedis (about 4 pounds!) to take back to our beach for the evening. The locals were so friendly and welcoming, and the local kids seemed extremely excited to see so many Obrunis in one go!! We took some photos of them, and then they became obsessed taking photos with our cameras and looking at the pictures, it was really sweet! We had a lovley journey back to our beach, where we ate lunch of jollof rice and spent the afternoon lounging around in the estuary and sunbathing, walking around exploring and taking in the gorgeous surroundings. It really was beautiful.
Unfortunatley it was quite cloudy in the evening and we didn't get to see the sunset, which was a shame because the people who had been there the night before said it was stunning. But it was proabably the best night so far on saturday night, sitting round the fire, chatting and listening to Yahweh singing and playing his drum. Me and Fionnuala spent a while talking to him, and I can honestly say I think he is the happiest person i've ever met. He teaches music to local children on the other islands, makes necklaces from beads and shells he finds on the beach and sells them to visitors, has a bit of a smoke and then plays his drum and sings in the evenings. When he sings, he stops every now and then, laughs and goes "ha ha ha rastafariaaaan" and does the biggest smile ever lol. He said nothing makes him happier than making music and living on the beach. It's a simple but rewarding life. He said he likes to sit under a palm tree and think about his life. Everything comes from where he lives. Even the weed grows naturally on a neighbouring island. In fact, seeing how happy he was with his simple island life, wanting for nothing more than what he has, made me think of the people on Diego Garcia who got kicked off their Island to make way for a US Army base, and how happy they were there, not even needing money, and how they have died of sadness because they cannot return. I think the same would happen to Yahweh if he was not allowed to live there; he has lived there all his life. Thanks for the book Chris, I can't put it down - I want more!
A bit later on Yahweh took us to see a spot where he is hoping to build a shop for his jewellery (I bought 2 necklaces, they're gorgeous) and where he makes artwork from shells on the beach. The weekend was so relaxing, it makes me smile! I would love to go back. But sadly, we had to go back to reality. But the journey home was nowhere near as bad as on the way - we kind of chartered our own tro and got it to take us direct to Accra instead of changing in Ashaiman. The weekend was bliss, and even better, cost the equivalent of about 20 pounds!! x x x x x x
Advertisement
Tot: 0.127s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 9; qc: 48; dbt: 0.0796s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
