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Published: July 23rd 2009
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Ada-Foa
Staying in Accra, is by no means like staying in any other city across the world, with its streets cramped with street sellers, stalls and cars, it is with no surprise that Accra is named the Gateway City.
However charming and different the city may be, Accra itself is without its obvious beauty. To experience Ghana’s beautiful scenery a trip away for the weekend is a must.
So, four hours in a 20 seated tro-tro, with little room to manoeuvre we were on our way to what would prove to be an eventful weekend away and Ada-Foa was the destination. Hours later we arrived in a derelict market place, met by three mysterious men that guided us on to what could only be described as an old aboriginal boat. Yes I know what you are all thinking, a horror movie in the making!
As we arrived at the island we were greeted by a roaring campfire along with a Rastafarian playing the drums. as the night went on we tried our own luck on singing, with resident artist Hugo singing his own renditions of The Beatles, Stone Roses, Oasis and much more, I can honestly say I have never heard anything like it, an Irish voice with a Rastafarian twist you can only describe it as different. With many of us falling asleep by the fire we and the supply of beers decreasing we retired to our bedrooms, which consisted of either thatched huts, tents or for the truly insane a simple mosquito net held up by four poles.
In the night sky the island was truly beautiful and after a night relaxing in front of the fire with the sounds of drums and water lapping onto the shore but real treat was still to be unveiled, as we woke to the baking sun, the mystery and beauty of the island could now be finally explored. To which we were not to be disappointed.
The island was surrounded by golden sands with ocean as far as the eye could see, the only sight that broke the clear blue was the occasional fishing boat floating by followed by a greeting of “Akwaaba, Obroni” (Welcome White)
After spending the morning either lay on the beach, in the hammocks or sat in the lake lapping up the sun, our first adventure of the day was to the local Rum distillery. We had our minds set on a large industrial distillery, but I can not imagine why. A short boat ride to another local island away we arrived, to a totally different “Akwaaba” than the previous night, the night before was a relaxed laid back event. What a contrast this was to be, groups of children climbing over each other to see the “obroni” I guess the novelty of seeing tourist was overwhelming, some children seemed scared at first, others relished in the occasion. After fighting of the children the tour of the distillery began, apparently four buckets is all that is needed to make the perfect African rum, and what is a tour without a taster, a shot of the strongest finest Rum, with the chance to buy a bottle (that arrived in a simple water 1 litre bottle) for just GH¢8 (£4)
With the tour of four separate buckets coming to an end, the children once again returned, the joy on their faces to interact with the tourists, posing for pictures and wanting to take pictures themselves. It was a real pleasure to spend time with a group of people that took such gratitude in smallest of gifts. Many walked with us back to the boat just wanting to hold our hands and take pictures, their delight when they saw themselves on the camera was hilarious, jumping up and down and showing their friends and family.
On our return to our island, an island with absolutely nothing on it at all, we all decided to relax. Although some see this trip as a holiday, Accra can be a tiresome place and the opportunity to sit by the beach is something of a luxury. Groups lay by the beach or in the Volta River, some took the simplest of fishing techniques with a line and catching their own bait, no winners for guessing they didn’t catch anything but a tan, some walked through into a local nearby village on the other side of the island.
This village had already refused my respectable housemates entry for not wearing the correct attire earlier that day. But with our clothes on, we decided to have a second attempt, we walked into the village to stares from the locals, we suddenly got the feeling we were not welcome, that was not the case, as we went further into the village to the sound of children singing in what could have been a church service, we discovered a small lagoon with a little bridge hanging over it. The village was beautiful with small huts dotted all over the place, you got lost in the rabbit warren of building, if you turned left at the wrong time you could walk into a families house, just in time for lunch.
Our last night on the island, we returned to more festivities, with our local Rastafarian back on drums singing Bob Marley and the Rum in fine flow we again sat back and listened. It was a great end to a truly remarkable and unforgettable weekend.
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