Archive for September 2012

He was a Friend of Mine: Bob Dylan

September 19, 2012

Zoey and Me

September 19, 2012

When I started writing this blog, I never thought about new friends. I figured to write a few thoughts, post a couple of songs and sent my offerings into cyberspace. The few time I got a comment I was thrilled. Someone had found me and thought enough to let me know. In those early days, some people stayed around and often made comments, but over the years they just sort of disappeared. Greg stayed as did Mark and Pat still drops by to visit. New people appeared over the years, made comments and many of them stayed. We have shared our feelings, our experiences and our dreams. I realized we had become friends. Meeting each other in person wasn’t necessary; we had already met in all the best ways.

One of those friends passed away yesterday. When I was in Ghana, I knew something was wrong. It was so unlike him not to comment about my trip. He had followed last year’s flight and was looking forward to this year’s which is one of the reasons I had posted my itinerary.

Victor visited Coffee just about every day, and I dropped by to visit him at The Cat in the Bag. I always wrote Z& Me when I answered his comments, and that’s the way we all knew him.

This morning his wife Ann sent notice that Z&Me had passed away. I cried. I have lost a friend, and I will miss him: Zoolatry.

Home: Kate Rusby

September 18, 2012

Baby, Won’t You Please Come Home: Sam Cooke

September 18, 2012

September 18, 2012

“He is the happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home”

September 18, 2012

I made it: I’m finally home! Gracie was crazy, and the cats head-bonked me and purred. I greeted them and then went upstairs to take a nap. I left my luggage in the middle of the floor and dragged my tired body upstairs. After, I came down to unpack a bit. Right now the laundry and two empty suitcases are sitting in front of the cellar door. I’m hoping the laundry elves will get busy and a pile of  clean, folded clothes will be there to surprise me.

The rides home were unspectacular: no missing flights, on-time arrival and departures and pure exhaustion after nearly eleven hours from Accra to New York. I then had to haul my bags through customs and down to the ongoing flight luggage counter. I waited three hours for my flight to Boston which felt like a minute long after the first flight. I got the bus and was home by 12:40, seventeen hours after the first take-off.

I need to tell you about my last few days in Ghana. I was back in Accra for one night then went down to Cape Coast. It is a beautiful city. Many of the buildings are old and have wooden second floors with shuttered windows. The houses are brightly colored with pink being popular. The streets are narrow and crowded with market stalls on each side which makes travel slow. As you approach Cape Coast you can see the ocean, the palm trees and fishing boats not far from shore. The easiest building to see is Cape Coast Castle on a buff right on the water. It is painted a brilliant white. The castle is on the Historic Register. It is where you’ll find the famous Door of No Return through which the slaves, chained together, walked on their way to the ships which were headed to the Caribbean and the coast of America. The tour guide was excellent. She took us to the male and female dungeons, the quarters of the British captain who ran the fort, the  punishment cell where slaves who resisted were left without food, water or light and finally to the ramparts where we saw the look-out tower across the way and the cannons lined up facing the ocean. Next to the male dungeon is a plaque commemorating the visit of the Obamas. Grace, my former student, asked if the Obamas had to pay. The guide laughed. It was hot and I had beads of sweat down my face, my constant condition in Ghana.

We stayed at a guesthouse on a hill overlooking the city. It was the most expensive of any lodgings I had had in Ghana. Each room was fifty cedis ($25.00), and I had to pay for three: mine, Grace’s and the driver’s, but the room were enormous and Grace was overwhelmed. She wanted pictures of the room. Breakfast was part of the room price. It was the usual breakfast: eggs cooked as almost an omelet but browned rather than fluffy usually with onions and sometimes also green peppers. It is eaten in a toast sandwich. Those egg sandwiches are delicious and available all over Ghana. This breakfast also included pieces of sweet paw paw (papaya) and bananas.

We hit the road after breakfast and went further down coast to the village of Beyin. The road was mostly unpaved, but the scenery was gorgeous with the ocean not far off. The waves had white caps and the beaches were crowded with palm trees. We stayed at the Beyin Beach Resort, a fancy name for the thatched roofed bungalows and two chalets. The bungalows had two single beds, each covered my mosquito netting, and shared bathrooms. The hot water was welcomed. Breakfast was extra but worth it. I had real brewed coffee and real milk. I also got a chocolate croissant and shared with Grace and Tankwo, the driver. They loved the chocolate.

We left right after breakfast and drove next door to get tickets to see the stilt village of Nzueleo. We then walked down the street to where we took the boats, more like canoes. Each had two paddlers, one at each end. Grace had never been on a boat before. She and the driver wore life jackets. The woman who gave us the tickets said non-Ghanaians never take the jackets but Ghanaians always do. Few of them know how to swim. Unless they live by the ocean, there are few safe places to swim without the threat of  schistosomiasis (bilharzia), trypanosomiasis (sleeping sickness), onchocerciasis (river blindness), and, until recently, dracontiasis (guinea worm) which Ghana feels has been eradicated.

The guides paddled us through marshland to Nzulezo. The trip took about 45 minutes and was beautiful. We saw all sorts of birds and flowers. We reached the village which is on stilts and located on one side of Lake Tadane. We left the boat for the wooden walkway through the village. The houses are wooden and most have thatched roofs. We were told that the number in the village is somewhere between 300-500 but no one is sure. I couldn’t take pictures of adults without permission, but I could snap the children. The village has a bar, two churches and a school. Most houses had a TV. When I asked why they lived in that village, I was told that their ancestors were fleeing from enemies and were guided to this spot by a snail. The villagers make money by brewing and selling akpateshie, a local gin. They load containers on boats and paddle to the village to sell their Akpateshie. We stayed in the village for a small while, had a cold drink then went back to the boat for the return trip. Two other boats were paddled by us, both filled with “obrunis” or white people. They waved. We got to the car and drove most of the day to Accra and my last two nights in Ghana.

I spent Saturday doing last-minute shopping and packing. My bags were really heavy, especially the carry-on as it had two pieces of pottery, heavy thick pottery bowls in which to grind things like ginger, peppers or even onions. One bowl was for me and the other a gift. On Sunday Grace and her husband took me out to a farewell lunch. They chose a Chinese restaurant which I had pointed out to Grace while we were shopping. Neither had ever eaten Chinese food before. They both liked my choices and Grace thought she would bring her son there in October for his birthday. Her husband was surprised the bill was not too large but we had shared the dishes: curried chicken fried rice, vegetable tempura and beef with cashews. The vegetables weren’t hot so both Grace and her husband used the hot sauce brought with the meal. I tried just a bit and even my lips were burning.

I went to the airport early and hugged Grace and her husband good-bye. Grace says she’ll come here for a visit and we’ll see each other soon. I checked in early and went to the Adinkra lounge with its free drinks, food and wi-fi. I had a three-hour wait but in the comfort of air-conditioning. At 9:30 I boarded my flight, which left at 10:10 and arrived in NY at 5:30. My flight for Boston left at 8:30; I took the 10:45 bus from Logan to Hyannis and was home by one. My friends had me to dinner. I came home and went to bed around 10, which was 2am my body time. This morning I woke up at 4:30 which is why you are reading this extended travelog.

I am enjoying my second cup of coffee and will go shortly to the drive-way for my papers, the first ones in over three weeks. It seems so strange to be wearing a sweatshirt as the morning is cold. Where are the roosters?

What About All Those Bananas?

September 15, 2012

Sorry, but this will have to be quick as my time is running down. I am back in Accra as I will be leaving tomorrow. I won’t be able to fill you in on all that has happened since I left the monkeys, but I figured just the monkeys will do for today!

The Monkey Sanctuary is off of a long, dusty dirt road filled with ruts. We’d see nothing then a village would appear then we’d leave it quickly behind us.  The village nearest the monkeys was large, bigger than the others we had passed. We were driving to park the car when I saw one of the monkeys running behind the house. It was a Mona monkey, and they seem to come and go into the village at will. The monkeys come usually in the morning and early evening to eat but are more than happy when new bunches of gawkers appear with bananas in hand. The monkeys are not at all shy, and they stand up and spread out their arms to beg. We bought bananas and one of the critters grabbed it out of my hand. Grace, my student, offered to show me how to do it and the monkey grabbed her banana as well even before she was ready. With the second banana I held on and the monkey had to be satisfied with half and then half again. There were several around us by the time we started into the forest.

The woods were thick and so humid every pore in my body sweated. The guide stopped several times to show us trees and plants which were historically significant. including one called the giraffe tree. We kept going deeper into the forest to see the Colobus monkey, a larger shyer monkey than the Mona. We walk a long way until the guide noticed the long white tail of a Colobus.The monkey was sitting on a limb watching us. We kept walking but saw only four of these amazingly beautiful animals.

From there we walked to the monkey graveyard  where there are several graves marked with the sexes of the monkeys and their death dates. Two humans are buried there also, both fetish priests to the monkeys.

According to the guide, the Colobus monkeys will make a huge racket late at night if there is something going to happen. He said the fetish priests could understand what the monkeys meant and would interpret. The monkeys still make the racket but no one can understand anymore.

When we left, I was soaked as if it had been raining. The air conditioning in the car was wonderful.

I have so many more things to tell you about the last few days but it will have to wait until I am home. I leave tomorrow night at 10:10 on the Delta flight.

I’ll see you on Tuesday!

Greetings from Accra

September 12, 2012

Sunday morning I was awakened at 4 when the air-conditioner went back on  with all its rumbles. I hadn’t heard it go off, but the sound of its return was loud enough to roust me. During the night, the electricity in Bolga and the surrounding villages was turned off at different times for two hours. I suppose it was to conserve electricity but no one knew for certain. “It is what they do,” was the answer to why. Later, around 11, the electricity for the whole country went off. It came back slowly with Bolga being the last around 8 that night.

Well, after I was up so early, I finally stopped reading and got dressed around 6, made my disgusting coffee and went to the roof which is begging to be a patio. All it needs is a table, chairs, an umbrella and mosquito netting. From my perch on high, I watched the morning. I could see and smell the smoke from morning fires. From the compound beside the house I heard a baby cry. Roosters were greeting the day, one to each side of the house, but I couldn’t see them.  On the road I could see a man carrying a table on his head. I wondered about that table. A woman came out of the house, walked into the tall grass and returned in a bit with some eggs. Small girls carried empty then full buckets to and from the bore hole. The air was clear and there was a morning breeze. It was too early yet for the sun to grab the day. Mornings in the village are a joy to watch.

Part II  Meet the Mother of Chiefs

Sunday afternoon I was told to be at the chief’s house at 1:30. As I had met him before, I didn’t know why. When I arrived, four of my students were there. The chief was waiting and explained to me that I would be thanked for teaching these women and for returning to Ghana by a traditional ceremony. I was to become the mother of chiefs and I would be given a new Ghanaian name. I sat in a chair in the middle of the room then was told to stand up and raise my hands over my head. Lillian, a student and one of the wives of the chief, then took a fan on which was cloth, sandals and jewelery.  She passed it around me 4 times then took it and moved it back and forth in front of me 4 times as well. Then she and one of the elders started dressing me in Ghanaian cloth, 3 pieces. First came the skirt, then the top and finally a headpiece of cloth. All of my clothes were now covered by the Ghanaian cloth, the same cloth from which fugus or smocks are made. The chief announced my new name was (phonetically) an a Mah, mother of chiefs.  During all of this, a  photographer had been taking his own pictures and some with my camera. My students were going to order copies. After all of the festivities were finished, the elders accompanied me to my house (substitute car here as the village is too far). They took pictures of me walking to the car and getting in with the help of the elders. The ceremony was finished.

It was amazing. My students had planned it with Lillian and the chief. They had bought the cloth and all the accessories.  I was told that I would always be called by my new name by any FraFras. I couldn’t have been more honored.

On Monday we left late and made it only to Tamale (tam, as in rhymes with arm, a lay). On Tuesday we made it to all the way Accra with only one stop- to see the monkeys. Today we are traveling to Cape Coast and Elimina.

Next journal entry: the monkeys!

Salutations!

September 8, 2012

Yesterday I was at my morning perch watching the world when the man in the compound beside me brought out two baby goats. They had been born the night before, still had their umbilical cords attached  and couldn’t stand long on their wobbly legs. They kept falling and getting back up, but they did manage to find their mother and breakfast. I watched for a long while. It was the first time I’d seen goats so young, and they were a marvel.

Today is market day so I will do a bit of shopping as I still haven’t bought any cloth. I get to one part of the market, do a bit of shopping and get too tired and sweaty to keep going. This time I hope to start out at the cloth.

We were driving to the town when we saw a huge line of men wearing white robes and black hats. They were singing. I asked the driver to park so we could watch and I could get some pictures. One man near us was happy to explain that it is a Moslem(still called Moslem here, not Muslim) organization which has three parts: women, youth and old men. Each year they have a conference at a different region. This group was the old men, all over 40. They were divided by region and they walked and sang a different song by region. We waited until all of them had passed.

Tomorrow I am meeting the old girls as my students call themselves. We are having lunch together and remembering the old times. I doubt I’ll get back here again as it is so expensive though I suppose I could get parsimonious and become a penny pincher, so not me.

The route, on Monday, will  be different than the one to come up here so I’ll get to see more of the country. We hope to get as far as Koforidua which is where I spent some time in training. I don’t know if I’ll be able to post on Monday but will if I get to the town early enough.

I hope the next stop will be the Monkey Sanctuary!

Greetings!

September 6, 2012

Yesterday morning the rain started around 7 in the morning and when I went to sleep around 9:30 it was still raining. We had come into town for market day, but the rain pretty much washed that away. I sat under an awning, a tin awning, at a local spot and had coffee and an egg sandwich. The coffee is still Nescafe instant and the milk evaporated, but I have built up an acceptance of my lot and don’t mind it.

The rains were so heavy yesterday that the roads to the villages washed away in places. The river overflowed its banks and inundated houses and millet fields. Even Bea and Grace, my students, were amazed by how much water was in the fields.

The main street where I was sitting was almost empty of people. The few walking had umbrellas or just got soaked. This morning was still cloudy though a bit later in the morning blue appeared only to disappear when the rain came, only small-small rain as the Ghanaians would say. It is now after 1 in the afternoon, and the sun is beginning to make an appearance.

This morning we went to Paga, to Pikworo Slave Camp. It was active in the later 16th century up to about 1840 or so. It held 200 slaves and according to our guide, they were tied to the trees much of the day. We walked up into the hills and saw the grinding rock where food was ground and bowls carved in the rock. The water trough was filled with water and we were told the water never left, even in the dry season. There was a rock, called the entertainment center, which made different sounds when hit with rocks so it was used as a drum with the slaves hitting them with rocks to produce the rhythm. There were drummers there who played and sang for us just as the slaves would have played the rock. If a slave tried to escape, he was placed tied up and naked on the punishment rock in the sun. If he survived the heat of the day despite no water he would be allowed to remain alive. Many, though, died from the intense heat of the sun. I couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been for the slaves waiting to be taken away from their homes. Once they left Paga, they would be brought to the coast where many were shipped to America.

I will be leaving here on Monday to make my way down coast with a stop to see the monkeys then overnight in Koforidua, where I had a part of my training. I’ll be back in town on Saturday for market day and will post then.