Posted tagged ‘Peace Corps hostel’

“The dry grasses are not dead for me. A beautiful form has as much life at one season as another.”

November 22, 2022

This time of year is just so pretty. The air is clear, the light is sharp, and the sun silhouettes the trees. Above it all is the deep blue sky. The breeze is slight now and barely ruffles the dead leaves still on the trees. Today is warmish at 45°.

In Ghana, during the harmattan, the dry season has full sway. The air is filled with dust carried by the wind off the Sahara. The ground gets hard. The laterite roads turn dusty, and the open mammy lorries are followed by a trail of red dust which covers the passengers. The fields are cleared by fire. I could watch the red flames move across and burn the brown refuse left from the crops grown during the rainy season. The nights and mornings are cold. I had a wool blanket on my bed. My students layered. I get the feel of those mornings here sometimes in the fall when the air is chilly, but you know it won’t last. The day will get warm, even hot. In Ghana, the heat followed the cold, a day and night heat, a dry heat often hitting 100°. I used to sit in my living room and read. When I got up, a sweaty silhouette of my body was left on the cushions. I loved my nightly shower, a cold shower. I’d go to bed still wet from the shower and let the air dry me so I could fall asleep.

I ate the same breakfast and lunch every day. The only changes in dinner were chicken sometimes instead of beef and rice instead of yam. I loved breakfast and lunch. I’d eat two eggs and toast and have a couple of cups of coffee in the morning. After I taught my first class, I’d sit on the front porch and have more coffee. Lunch was fresh cut fruit: bananas, pineapple, oranges and mangoes and pawpaw if they were in season. The meat for dinner was often cooked in a tomato sauce made from fresh tomatoes with onions added. I got tired of rice and yam, but they were the only choices.

I’d go to Accra, the big city, during school holidays. I stayed at the Peace Corps hostel, 50 pesewas a night which included breakfast. The rest of my meals were eaten out, and I loved it. I ate Lebanese, Indian and Ghana’s version of Chinese. No meal was expensive except the Chinese. It was on the outskirts of the city, and the taxi ride added to the expense, but we always ate there once a trip. It was worth the money.

It was the chill of this morning which brought me back to Ghana. I figured I’d bring you along.

“Clouds are high flying Fog”

January 12, 2015

Cloudy day today, a storm cloudy day, a rainy day. When I saw the clouds, I knew. I didn’t need to look at the weather prediction. Snow clouds are different. They have an eerie light, almost a warning system. Fair day clouds are puffy and very white. Storm clouds cover the sky and darken the day. The pine tree branches look stark, even bold. A winter rain is bone chilling. I will not be going anywhere today. I am into comfort and warmth.

I started reading a Ghanaian mystery by Kwei Quartey. It is the fourth book of his I’ve read. His plots are simple: murder, investigation and arrest. But I am not drawn to his novels by the plots. It is Ghana. I love reading of places where I’ve been and of things Ghanaian. I know what dinner looks like when it is fufu and stew. The main character was riding through Adabraka, a section of Accra. I knew it well. The hostel was there as was Talal’s, a spot for lunch, for Peace Corps pizza as Talal used to call it: pita bread with tomatoes and melted cheese. A movie theater was within walking distance of the hostel as was a pretty good restaurant. Back then, if you were young and white and asked to go to Adabraka, the taxi driver would take you right to the hostel for twenty pesewas from anywhere in the city. I looked for that hostel as did my friends Bill and Peg. We didn’t find it. So far in the novel, Death at the Voyager Hotel, we haven’t a murder, a death yes but only one person believes it a murder.

A dismal day demands little, and that’s what it will get.


%d