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Published: March 29th 2008
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I’m sitting in an internet Cafe in Tamale - less than 12 hours after arriving on the STC bus. In the few hours I’ve been back my skin has managed to break into a heat rash - I believe it is protesting my leaving the beaches of Ghana for the dry and dusty Savannah that I now call home.
For Easter a group of us volunteer types from Tamale made a break for the coast. After a series of long bus rides and tro-tro connections we were diving into the ocean. The ocean never ceases to amaze, astound, and scare the hell out of me. The waves provided hours of entertainment for us and guaranteed that Lloydminster wave pool will never again hold the same charm for me.
We spent a few days in Butri and stayed as cheaply as possible by bunking in the dorms. The money we saved on accommodation we spent on fresh coconuts and happy hour drinks.
The highlight of our time there was learning how to fish. Shawn and I went for a walk early one morning to a nearby fishing village and watched the fishermen pull in the nets. We soon felt
No rest for the wicked...
This is the dorm loft where we crashed for our stay at Butri. incredibly lazy and decided if we were going to watch anyway we might as well help. After a few hours of local kids laughing at us we managed to get the fish in and discovered how few fish 80 hours of manpower actually yields.
On the beach Shawn met an old hippie from Nelson BC. The hippie, Duncan, suggested we check out Princess Town where he stays in an old Castle. Never people to pass up a chance to sleep in a castle - we left the next morning. Princess Town is an interesting place - we met a young guy who told us his dad left after the ‘disaster’. He refused to tell us what the ‘disaster’ was until after we had eaten. After a little snooping around we learned that in November there had been a dispute over who would be chief and many people’s homes and businesses were burned down. Some people were killed and others were chased out of town. Now it’s seemingly peaceful, but we were warned repeatedly by local people that the town is full of ‘smugglers and thieves’.
The Castle has an amazing view - and it’s incredible to stand looking
Fishing
Shawn lending a hand to the local fisherfolk. out over the ocean and thinking about all the history contained within those walls. It had once been controlled by the Germans and used as part of slave trade. Now the government has transformed it into a guesthouse where backpackers can pretend to be royalty for 3 dollars a night.
In addition to Shawn and I, the hippie and his Ghanaian wife, there was also a German fellow staying there. The five of us were a Motley Crew - and I’m sure we’d have made a great reality TV show.
The next day we left to Takoradi - where we visited the market and local bookstores (I found a book teaching me about complexities of love and one called Greedy Ananas and the Dwarfs) and waited for our bus back to Tamale. I had covered my legs with Calamine lotion - in an effort to make me even scarier to the young children who often burst into tears at the sight of Shawn and me. I was also hoping it would help relieve me from the hell that is mosquito bites covering nearly every itch of my body. I had a five minute conversation with a man about
my 'chicken pox'. I insisted they were mosquito bites - he insisted I had chicken pox - so in the end I gave up and accepted that indeed I had a case of that terrible grade 2 disease. Mosquitoes aren’t any worse here than at home - the difference is that these bites will probably cause Malaria AND they itch.
On the way home our bus hit a tro-tro so we had to wait for an hour and a half for the police to come and take pictures. No one was hurt - thankfully, but it goes to further reinforce my vow to never travel at night. Even though the majority of the trip was during daylight - we still had an armed police officer on board with us in case of an armed robbery attempt.
By midnight we pulled back into Tamale, now the only things I have left to remind me of the ocean are the sand in my sheets, a pocket full of shells, and my malaria infested legs.
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