Out and about in the Northern region

---

The story so far: I arrived, settled in for a few days then basically spent three weeks working. At the weekends I explored Tamale and spent time with the family and their friends, learning about local culture. I enjoyed this immensely, but wanted to get outside of the city (not that it feels much like a city where I’m staying) a couple of times as well.
Seidu offered to take me to the village that he grew up in, as he was going home to see his mum, and that seemed like a good place to start. As ever “I’ll pick you up before 8:30” meant he was there about 9:10. I’ve adjusted enough that I didn’t call to check he was coming until about 9:05. The journey out took about an hour, on roads of ever decreasing size. The last one was single track – there was one motorbike tyre track down the middle of what we would call a path.
The village consisted of 10-15 compounds. Each was a circular-ish arrangement of round mud huts joined by a connecting outside wall, around a central courtyard used for washing, cooking and working. Generally each compound had two or three sleeping huts, one ‘living hut’, a storage hut and an animal hut for chickens or guinea fowl. Seidu took me to his Mum’s compound first (his Dad died a few years ago). She and several sisters/aunts were making Shea butter, an incredibly laborious process involving picking, drying, sorting, roasting, grinding, mixing with water, cooking, skimming, cooking some more, skimming some more, cooling and cutting. I think I’ve missed out a few steps, and that’s before they walk the finished product to the local town – for us 15 minutes away by motorbike. At least they can pick up some water on the way back – the nearest well is halfway to the town.
We went round almost all of the compounds greeting people. The speed and length of greeting really tested my language skills, but people seemed to appreciate my efforts. It’s the sort of village where everyone is a distant relation, so we couldn’t leave anyone out. We met the chief (essentially the oldest surviving male). Tradition dictates that visitors bring kolor nuts for the chief as a gift, but sadly poverty and pragmatism has overtaken religion, and most chiefs now prefer a small gift of money, which we duly made.
One interesting feature of the village – population less than 50 – was that it had both a mosque and a church, situated right next to each other. For people who take their religion so seriously the freedom of expression and acceptance of differences here is wonderful. Seidu told me that he was born a Christian and converted to Islam whilst he still lived here, and no-one minded.
Back in the compound where Seidu was born, I was given a shea fruit to eat. It was very tasty and much less effort than turning it into butter, but sadly the value in raw form is practically nil. I was also given some guinea fowl eggs. If I’m honest I felt a little guilty taking food from people who had so little, but Seidu insisted that they would be very offended if I refused. The guinea fowl are completely free range, to the extent that the owners have to go out looking for the eggs as they are not laid in one regular place. Thankfully they survived the bumpy journey home and have since become a series of very tasty and very bight yellow omelettes.
My next venture out of Tamale was more ambitious. When I first arrived I had mentioned to my host that I would like to get up to Mole game park, a large nature reserve in the Northern region, by all reviews I had read the best in Ghana. It wasn’t why I came here, but it seemed a shame to be so close and not go for a short visit. Mr Musah had insisted that I should not go on my own on the bus (my plan), but that a brother (ie distant cousin)of his should take me in his car. As it sounded more comfortable and with better company I accepted, however as the days went past and nothing came of the offer I began to worry. Eventually and after much polite chasing, we set off last Wednesday for a 2 ½ - 3 hour drive to the park motel. Five hours later we were stood by the side of the road next to Shakur’s broken down car, in the dark, watching the bus go past without stopping. We were still an hour’s drive from Mole, on the outskirts of a small village in the middle of nowhere. Naturally the mosquitoes had descended in full force. We eventually found someone who was prepared to drive us the rest of the way, and at almost ten o’clock we arrived at the hotel, had dinner and went to bed.
Somewhat less rested that planned, we went on the early morning nature walk – a guided 2-3 hour wander around the park near to the hotel. We saw various monkeys, warthogs, two types of antelope, lots of birds and various tracks of hyenas, anteaters and other more suspicious creatures rarely seen in the flesh by clumsy tourists. We then had a big stroke of luck as on the way back to the hotel we bumped into another group who had just seen some elephants. We rushed back down to where they had been, and sure enough came across three bull elephants. We spent around 40 minutes following them at a careful distance whilst they ate, wandered around a bit, ate some more, and generally got on with being elephants. Even as someone who would not have put watching game on a list of personal ambitions, I must admit they were magnificent in their natural habitat. The guide we had was very good, and explained a lot of interesting facts about the animals, the plants and the way the local tribes interacted with nature.
When we got back I realized that the rather expensive taxi ride the night before had left me without enough Cedis to settle the bill. My punishment for this was a breakneck motorbike ride to Damongo, which I would describe as being forty minutes drive away, but we got there in about thirty. I changed some dollars to Cedis, regretted not writing a will before leaving the UK and climbed aboard for the return trip. It made me realize how careful Seidu had been with me (by local standards). Shakur had managed to get someone to come from Tamale to pick us up, and we collected the car on the way back to tow it back home. Without wishing to labour the point about local driving, towing and overtaking on a single carriageway road still seems pretty bold, even by the ninth or tenth time that it happens.
Back at work, the Director has now returned from the capital and seems happy with the work that Seidu and I have been doing. Certainly the changes in Seidu’s ability and confidence are very noticeable to me, so hopefully I’ve done more than just confuse some locals and wave at lots of children.
Sadly my time here is almost over. I fly back to the UK tomorrow night and should be back in Bristol in time for lunch on Thursday. I will try to post one more blog from the UK, hopefully with a selection of the picture I have taken, if my old digital camera has worked OK.

---