Run to the Hills (Again)

Kilimanjaro it ain't.

The banana-hungry troop descends upon human and offspring.

Ghana is often referred to "Africa for beginners". It is relatively safe, English-speaking and it has beaches, jungle/rainforest and savannah all wrapped up in one little country. What's even cooler is that you don't need to go to the savannah to see some savannah. For Accra residents, an hour's drive to the Shai Hills Resource Reserve is enough for a taste of the Africa of one's imagination - and it is much more accessible than Ghana's main wildlife attraction, Mole National Park.

With vague memories of his experience as a backpacking student, Mr. O, Mrs. O and Little Miss, along with some friends, piled into the family vehicle and drove to Shai Hills on a Sunday morning, where the only traffic was locals on their way to church. Upon arrival, they squeezed in another passenger (the mandatory park ranger/guide) and went for the tour. To the delight of Little Miss, there was a troop of friendly baboons nearby waiting for bananas (also, a friendly banana-seller, keen to cash in on this niche market).

No Baby Björn required.

Somewhat more improbably, a pair of ostrich were fenced in for easy viewing. Ostrich are not indigenous to Ghana, but the liquidating Accra Zoo was looking for takers and so now one can see ostrich on the savannah without flying to Kenya. Plus, they seem as content as ostrich can be, with the nearest cheetahs several thousand miles away.

On the far side of the park, one can have a bit more of a safari experience and drive through the grassland, observing the local kob antelope and 175 species of bird (none were actually observed).

One could swear those ostriches were speaking Swahili.

Little Miss takes on the rocks.

In the caves. Not visible: thousands of sleeping bats.

The main attraction is the bat cave. In simpler times, the Shai people used the cave as an emergency base and shelter for women and children in times of intertribal war. When the British came to rout them in 1892, fun-time was over and the Shai were removed from the hills, forced to pay taxes like everybody else, while also living without a cave hideout like everybody else - except maybe Batman. Incidentally, the cave is host to thousands of bats.

The cave itself is accessible enough that Little Miss clambered up the path to it, until Mr. O decided the guano smell was getting a bit heavy for little climbing hands. Taking a cue from the baboon babies, she clung to him as they climbed a rather steep set of stairs and negotiated a rope ladder up a rock (not parenting at its finest, mind you). In addition to climbing a bat cave, there was also a beautiful view of the surrounding landscape for those who could climb to it. And all this on a three-hour tour. (yes, a three-hour tour)

While Ghanaian parks leave much to be desired from a tourist standpoint, Mr. O reckons that Shai Hills upped its game since his previous visit: the fees were a bit more ambitious (a park cannot reasonably be operated on 3 cedi a visitor) and there appears to be an attempt to diversify the experience (there are now three caves open, birdwatching excursions, hikes, camping and rock climbing offered to visitors).

The view from the top.

At the least, it makes for a great opportunity for Little Miss to see monkeys AND flex her climbing muscles. Planning kid-friendly outings in Ghana is always a crap shoot. In a country where children are an afterthought, tourism facilities catering to families are fairly lacking. Driving several hours to a waterfall to stay at a secluded lodge can be worth the effort, but not if one has to contend with a bored and frustrated child in an enclosed space the entire time. So parents tend to pick their battles. Thankfully, Shai Hills was no struggle at all.

There won't be snow in Africa this Christmastime*

*Except for Lesotho, Morocco, Tanzania, Egypt and several other countries.

Now, where is that North Pole tro-tro? (Photo: Joe Lapp)

In Ghana, where 70% of the population is Christian (and fiercely so), Christmas is a big deal. But without the prevalence of disposable incomes and large chain stores, it may not *seem* like Christmas in the commercial sense, as there are fewer reminders. Besides, in the heat of the dry season, anyone dressing up in a red suit, hat and faux beard should probably be avoided altogether. So there are not many festive decorations and lights (especially with electricity tariffs on the rise). However, the hawkers have adjusted for the season, selling inflatable goods and African Santa statues are a hot item this year.

Hopefully nobody left a "present" on the beach. (Photo: Joe Lapp)

Coming from the lands of ice and snow, Mr. and Mrs. O are left in a place feeling very un-Christmas-y. Mr. O, who believes that Christmastime starts the first Sunday of Advent and not a moment sooner, has enjoyed the lack of overt commercialism and 24/7 caroling on the radio. Even at church, the usual seasonal hymns are absent. Mrs. O, who gets into arguments with Mr. O on how early in November the decorations can go up, has felt more out of place. On the upside, they packed most of their Christmas decorations and have put up the tree - and with the curtains drawn and AC cranked, the living room looks and feels like they are back home in the dead of winter.

For Mr. O, this is a big deal: on his previous stint in Ghana, he could not imagine a warm Christmas and fled to Ireland with Mrs. O for the Christmas season. Thus, it will be a big leap for him out of his comfort zone.

Being away from family is difficult too. There are spots at the family tables back home that will be empty, especially with the absence of Little Miss. Thankfully, colleagues and friends who have not flown elsewhere for the holidays have been planning brunches, dinners and barbecues to celebrate and enjoy the season together. So at least their minds will be kept busy and they will not miss out on the traditional seasonal gaining of ten pounds.



FUN FACT: As the story goes, Irving Berlin wrote "White Christmas" while in California. So while it remains a radio staple in frigid countries, the lyrics are about homesickness. Listening to it endlessly while shopping at the mall, Mr. O never liked it. But this year, it's actually tugged at the heartstrings. Of course, in his house, ATCO's "Soul Christmas" cassette was the only one played, so here is Otis Redding's take - possibly the only song that makes one feel festive, homesick and ready to make a baby all at once.

Unexpected Guests

Little Miss and our guests

One of the many (many, many) perks of Mr. And Mrs. O's life in Ghana is their oversized house. It is no colonial mansion with manicured gardens, but large enough that they have spare rooms (mostly used for warehousing their stuff) that are subject to a standing offer for any friends that happen to pass through. So they occasionally host friends and acquaintances in lieu of a pricey hotel or crummy hostel.

Recently, they hosted an old friend, Meghan, conducting studies in the Upper West Region (a 12-hour bus ride at minimum and a highly impoverished area). On her way back down, she planned to stop for a few days of nostalgia and living it up, Accra-style.

Unfortunately, it became a much different visit. Meghan sponsors a few children in the Upper West, including a boy with a severe but undiagnosed mental disability: think Rain Man, but very quiet and totally easygoing. Little K, as he may be called, has been semi-abandoned by his parents and tends to run around town with the other children. He has been taken care of by their friend, who arranged to place him in a special home North of Accra that takes special care of children like Little K.

Having fun at Club Obruni

A few nights into his stay at the home, he jumped the fence and simply ran away. So when Meghan came down, she came with a local friend (basically his caregiver) and they spent three days searching town, making posters, talking to residents, police and social workers - all in a place without services like Amber Alerts. Everyone hoped for the best, but in Accra, one can easily fear the worst.

Thankfully, just as Meghan was about to fly home, Little K was located by police and reunited with her. But the home would not re-admit him, so he would have to go back home to the Upper West for the interim. So Little K and the caregiver stayed with Mr. And Mrs. O for several days to sort things out and catch the bus back to the Upper West.

Little K was one of the easiest of houseguests - aside from his voracious appetite, he spent the days quietly watching TV, flipping through picture books and playing with toys. Little Miss was thrilled to have a playmate and they got along quite well, although she was not used to being teased by an older boy. She took the pinching and playfulness mostly in stride.

Crowded House (Hey now, hey now...)

In spite of this, having guests means a lot more work and logistics - food, drink, linens, water use (water rationing is occurring in their neighbourhood), transportation, entertainment, etc. Being able to provide hospitality is a great privilege, but it can be tiring. A Swahili saying goes, "Treat your guest as a guest for two days; on the third day give him a hoe." Unfortunately, Ghanaians do not speak Swahili. So when their guests did leave several days later, Mr. and Mrs. O enjoyed a quiet evening of television and chocolate, recuperating until the next time friends pass through.

Car Trouble Part III: Into the Bureaucracy

The vehicle had been purchased. That was the easy part.

The chrome bumper shows that they mean business.

Ghanaian bureaucracy is not for the faint of heart. long queues, confusing procedures, indifferent public servants, too many passport photos, forms in duplicate or triplicate, misinformation, corruption. An encounter with a frosty immigration officer at the airport is uncomfortable, but to be at the mercy of the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Authority (DVLA) is a whole other matter. Mr. O was well-acquainted with the horrors of bureaucracy from his previous visit.

The upside? Mr. O's employer has a local "fixer", who is tasked with the more mundane aspects of working with the Ghanaian public (non-)service for essential affairs, including navigating the byzantine DVLA complex to obtain a driver's licenses and transferring ownership of a vehicle.

Driver's licenses are a curious thing in Ghana - on paper, they are required. However, international driver's licenses are equally valid and citizens of Commonwealth countries can drive for up to 90 days (or so it was told) with their home-country licenses. Whatever the case, when the police stop an expat's vehicle, something will not be "correct", leading to the request for a "dash" (bribe) to sort things out.

Nevertheless, "good" residents will get their local license. And although all paperwork was filled out properly, on the initial visit to the DVLA, the applications were delayed indefinitely because their existing licenses were issued by a sub-national authority, rather than a national. Eventually this was sorted out, but with a great deal of wasted time and effort.

Vehicle transfers can be even worse. In the case of Mr. and Mrs. O's new vehicle, it was co-owned by the seller and their deceased partner. In addition to being slightly awkward, it became a sticking point for the DVLA, who ostensibly were eager to prevent fraud of some sort of esoteric 419 variant perhaps.

It would take a visit to the High Court and presentation of an official will and power of attorney to convince that this old SUV was not being sold as part of a jilted lover's scam. Every stay was another half-step, another form needed, another signature required. This process took a month, in which Mr and Mrs. O could not legally use the vehicle that was parked in their driveway.

Finally, after several visits, the fixer informed them that it was complete. The SUV is now officially in their name and they can travel as they please. Now they just need to worry about insurance, petrol, maintenance, potholes, bad drivers and traffic-choked roads. And so the journey continues...