A Brief Musical Interlude

As much as Mr. and Mrs. O would like to identify with it, they are most definitely a step removed from the average Accra resident, for whom life is not all manicured gardens, pool parties and weekends at the beach. But for those who would like a colourful window into the everyday hustle of Ghanaian life (accompanied by an infectious beat and impeccable flow), have a listen to "Someway Bi" by M.anifest. If Accra had a theme song, this would be it.

(One day, there will need to be a proper introduction to dear readers to the rich musical history of Ghana. In the meantime, enjoy.)

WORLD CUP!

"Everyone's Ghanaian at World Cup!"

In the traditional area of the Ga people, there is an annual one-month period called Homokwu, in which outdoor noise is forbidden, including dancing, drumming and music. This year, it started May 12, conspicuously ending by June 12, the start of the 2014 World Cup.

The World Cup is an event anticipated and celebrated around the world, but for the people of Ghana, it has become an event of national importance as their men's team, the Black Stars, not only qualified in 2006 and 2010, but became loveable underdogs who defied expectations and made the pundits reconsider the capabilities of Africans. Indeed, its one of the few times that the world gets to know an African country, even if only its wealthy, athletic males.

For Ghana, there is no other sport (although field hockey remains perplexingly persistent). So every qualifier, friendly, injury, transfer and coaching choice is scrutinized by every Ghanaian.. Is the training adequate? Should the coach be local or European? Will the captain get enough top-level experience playing in the Emirates?

Curious characters come out of the woodwork as well. The Government of Ghana sponsors a delegation that includes politicians, national football association reps, booster club members and all sorts of hangers-on. Even curiouser, there is an unusual Ghanaian element this year, as a well-known fetish priest claimed to place a hex on Portuguese opponent (and perhaps the world's best footballer) Christiano Ronaldo.

The excitement has snared Mr. O, who became a convert and faithful follower of the Black Stars, joining the legions of fans watching the matches, whether on giant flat screens in spacious living rooms or small boxes in drinking spots and shops. He even saw them qualify in 2005 and 2013. Counting down the days (and even months) was a regular habit for him. He was quite excited, even though Ghana drew for the third time a "Group of Death" with Germany, the United States and Portugal.

For the opening match versus rivals the United States, Mr. O was in the remote Upper West Region outside a simple bar in Wa watching the match under the stars (seriously, there is almost zero outdoor light in Wa). This was the match that was considered a lock, as Ghana had beaten the US in 2006 and 2010, but the Americans were out for revenge. The Black Stars quickly got behind and spent the match trying to reclaim their mojo, losing 2-1 and missing out on key points needed to advance to the knockout stage.

For their second match, Ghana was up against the powerhouse Germany, the match the Black Stars were certain to lose. However, the plucky Ghanaians actually got ahead 2-1 before Germany equalized for a draw. In the end, Germany won every other match and the cup, so at the least, Ghana can claim that it was the only team the champions couldn't beat.

By the third and final match, it all came down to which team would have the highest total points and goal differential. Suddenly, every Ghanaian became a mathematician (someone should apply this to encourage kids to learn arithmetic). In short: if Germany beat the US and Ghana beat Portgual, the Black Stars were in. However, while Germany did its part, Ghana - or at least Asamoah Gyan - tried but came up tragically short, losing 2-1 to an anemic Portugal who was already eliminated. (Ironically, the hexed Ronaldo scored the game-winner).

And so for the first time, mighty Ghana failed to progress to the knockout round. The qualifiers overall were very exciting, with plenty of goals (Van Persie's header!) and shockers (Spain collapses! Suarez bites someone again!) and the knockouts were entertaining, although low-scoring and straightforward (Brazil's epic 7-1 loss to Germany aside). Soon enough, it will be the African Cup of Nations next year, then by 2017 qualifiers for the next World Cup. In 2014, Ghana fielded one of the youngest teams, which bodes well for the future. You can be sure that wherever he may be, Mr. O will be dusting off his lucky jersey then.


POST SCRIPT: Mr. O recently finished a highly engrossing book by British journalist Declan Hill called "The Fix: Soccer and Organized Crime". His research has yielded some very unsettling allegations of bribery against the Ghana Football Association and individual players, including allegations of match-fixing at the 2006 World Cup. Given the history of the team, some unusual playing in key matches and a public dispute over players' bonuses that ended in money flown from Ghana to Brazil, speculation on the possibility of match-fixing is rife in Mr. O's head these days.

"Say it ain't so, Gyan!"

The days are just packed

Seriously? Has it been a year already?

Where does the time go? Of course, the elderly are expected to say things like this to express their amazement at the passage of years. Yet Mr. and Mrs. O have been looking at the calendar and exclaiming the same thing. Already, it has been over ten months since their arrival. To put this in perspective, Mr. O’s life-altering stay the first time around had already wrapped up by this point (and he had much to show for it). But when one has a job, a house, friends, swimming lessons and errands, free time gets chipped away and excursions tend to be a once-a-month(ish) occasion. Driving one’s personal car, sitting in an office and living in a compound does not lend itself to wacky anecdotes like flaming tro-tros and random foreign visitors..

The output on this blog has certainly lessened in recent months. The plain truth is that the family is too busy living to stop and reflect. And that is okay. Staying in and watching a crappy movie is more boring than a random night out with strange characters, but also important for not burning out. Surfing expeditions are important, but so are children’s swimming lessons at the nearby pool.

Yet there are so many reasons to write. To document, to remember and even to give a view into a tiny corner of the world for those who would not normally see it. Mr. O has been noticing the usual African headlines: war, disease, poverty. And yet nobody talks about the sage professor teaching white kids about colonialism, the Norwegian-inspired waffle lady, or the people producing fantastic shea butter products and leather shoes. If Ghana is to be documented, it needs more voices (even whiny expat ones).

There Will Be Elephants

Mr. O's parents are quite enlightened and fairly culture-savvy. However, they also clearly stated that if they were coming to Africa, they were not leaving without seeing elephants. So, they made plans to head to the North.

Note the subtle differences in Northern Ghana.

While somewhat artificial, most separate Northern Ghana and Southern Ghana as two completely separate countries. Indeed, if the British had not claimed the land they did as the Gold Coast, they could have easily been separated as independent nations. The South is wet, jungle and dominated by Akan-speakers and Christians. The North is dry, savannah, with a very large Muslim population and several regional languages. The average resident of Bolgatanga has much more in common with their cousins over the border in Burkina Faso than to someone in Accra. So the North remains the neglected child of the nation.

In spite of this, the North has a lot going for it: unique architecture and art, disarmingly pleasant and hospitable people, fresh watermelon juice, delicious guinea fowl...

"I knew I should have taken that left turn at Ouagadougou."

Just as exciting for tourists is the chance to undertake a bona fide African safari at Mole National Park. A major caveat: the West African safari experience is quite different from its Eastern and Southern African counterparts. There is no Big Five, no luxury hotels and pampered game drives and certainly no pith helmets. That being said, there is something very cool about an ultra-cheap safari on the wrong side of Africa.

The good news is that getting there is easier than it used to be. In the good old days, Mr. O needed to take an overnight bus to get to the fledgling metropolis of Tamale, then a boneshaker tro-tro for several hours to the park. While it is still the main way to travel for the average Ghanaian, flying has become relatively cheap and convenient. One hour in the air and less than two at the airports compared to 12 hours on a bus with frigid AC and blaring Nollywood's most ridiculous films. The gravel road between Tamale and Wa is also getting a much-needed paving that is making the area significantly more accessible. So Grandpa and Grandma went for the airborne option, early on a Sunday morning. They stopped at the Gariba Lodge, whose courtyard is the ideal place to enjoy an omelet and a cup of freshly-brewed coffee.

Migrating creatures frolic at the watering hole at sunset.

They pressed onwards to Mole in a rented SUV. Notably, they saw a fellow with a camel surrounded by curious children. Somebody's uncle was apparently visiting from Mali.

On arrival at the park and eponymous Mole Motel in the mid-afternoon, they waited for lunch and observed the poolside fauna: athletic British students, not-so-athletic German forty-somethings, sunburned backpackers and - lurking just around the corner - baboons looking for an opportunity to steal a few morsels. Baboons can be quite clever, adventurous and aggressive, which is why it is best to stay near one's food and to keep their room's doors and windows locked at all times.

Cheeky monkey.

Mole is the largest protected area in the country, but it is woefully underdeveloped. There are a few regular roads for safari, but very little access into the heart of the park itself. This means both limited tourism prospects and greater difficulty for rangers to observe animals and patrol for poachers. There are also few options for viewing, although it has improved in recent years. One can go for a morning or afternoon drive in a private or park-owned vehicle, guided hikes, birding excursions and now night drives to see hyenas and civets. Accommodations are also improving: there is the nearby Mognori Eco Village homestay and after many years of talk, they are also building an upscale eco-lodge nearby.

Surprisingly difficult to see if one is not looking carefully.

Well, perhaps you DO have the right of way, sir.

The family did the afternoon safari and there was lots to see: various species of bucks, crocodiles and colourful birds -  their guide Usman had a keen eye and knew his birds, which made the birding part rather fun. They drove out for almost two hours with a convoy, staying out a bit later to look for the beautiful-yet-unassumingly-named grey kingfisher. On the way back, the group was rewarded with a private sighting of four massive elephants browsing the forest and going for a stroll in front of the vehicle. Seeing elephants at Mole is almost guaranteed, but getting that close was a real treat.

There did not appear to be an organized night drive, so the family slept. However, one of Mole's quirks is that the only public bus through nearby Larabanga comes at 04:30, so one could hear quite the ruckus of tourists packing up in the middle of the night.

The following morning, the group joined a walking tour to nearby watering holes, where elephants congregated. There were also plenty of warthog (who seem to be quite cozy with the locals) and a flock of wild guinea fowl. The walk was a nice rendez-vous before the morning sun got too hot. The pool was used afterwards to great effect.

All worth it for a photo of this adorable warthog piglet.

On the way back to Tamale to catch their flight home, Mr. O took a detour at Nyakpala to the SeKaf shea butter village and processing plant, which produces high-quality shea butter TAMA line of cosmetics for export. If Northern Ghana is to harness its economic potential, it will be in no small part due to outfits like this one that not only harvest local goods but add value, package professionally and sell internationally. In Tamale, the group also went to the craft market, which is much quieter and with less hassle than in Accra. The group also passed by Tamale's most noticeable landmark: a giant football stadium purpose-built for the 2008 African Cup of Nations, now sitting disused without a local team.

The group flew out that afternoon, making a whirlwind of a safari in 36 hours. Not a bad way to tick the quintessential box on an African trip. Grandma and Grandpa would leave a couple of days later feeling quite satisfied with their trip, between the beaches, the markets, the chop and the elephants.

Sunday Morning Surprise

Not long after Mr. and Mrs. O settled into their house in a relatively quiet and non-descript neighbourhood, they discovered one of its many quirks.

On Sunday at approximately 5:45AM, Mr. and Mrs. O heard a noise. It started like a faint heartbeat and started to steadily grow in a rhythmic fashion: drums banging, bells tapping, voices chanting. What could possibly be happening? Was this a religious experience (overzealous pentecostals)? A political demonstration (remember the start of Hotel Rwanda)?

Greatly disturbed, they jumped out of their beds and nervously peered through the iron bars of their window to try and get a view of the street over their compound walls. (If it were the rapture or civil war, at least they would be fortified)

What they saw was unexpected: joggers. Lots of them. Of all shapes, sizes and sexes. And they were going for a light jaunt down the street, merrily singing and banging away. Then two hours later, they came back the other way.

From what was gathered in the subsequent investigation, this is a running group that gathers early in the morning and jogs down towards the beach as a critical mass. Some have even seen obrunis running with them.

Now they are part of the weekly routine. Some mornings they are ridiculously loud and wake up Little Miss (who wakes up Mr. O, who enjoys his weekend sleeping in) and some mornings they are barely heard, passing through dreams seamlessly.


Addendum: This phenomenon is actually quite prevalent in Accra. One morning catching an early flight, Mr. O saw the main highway filled with runners. For young males, it is an opportunity to train or warm up before an 8AM match, play a little footy and then skip off to the usual marathon church service for the day. So Sundays are not so lazy in Ghana after all...

Kumasi Detour

Three days in Kumasi and this is the only photo taken. Shame.

While Grandma and Grandpa were maximizing their time in Ghana during the harsh northern winter, Mr. O still had work responsibilities, including a business trip to Kumasi, Ghana's second city and the capital of Ashantiland. Mr. O does seem to find his way there rather often. Being a good family man, he paid for the whole family to come along, which meant no daylong drives or AC-less rooms. Instead, they took the hour-long commuter flight and stayed at the Golden Tulip.

While Mr. O was busy working during the day, the family enjoyed their ample buffets and relaxing by the pool - save for Little Miss, who does not relax.

However, Grandma and Grandpa are not the hoity-toity type. They and Mrs. O decided to delve into the heart of Kumasi: Kejetia Market, the largest open-air market in West Africa. In a city of traders and businesspeople, this labyrinth is home to thousands of stalls selling anything imaginable under the sun, managed by market ladies and supplied by an army of porters who need to carry supplies on their heads through the constricted alleyways. While one might imagine colourful fabrics and unique local art, nowadays it is mostly cheap Chinese goods - a massive dollar store. That being said, here are some photos to colour one's imagination.

Grandma and Grandpa's enthusiasm for eschewing hotel pools for hectic local markets is quite astounding, as most people have only heard about it from their guide books or from backpackers - it's simply not a place for (sane) tourists. Yet in they went. Twice.

Otherwise, the stay at the Golden Tulip was good, although it was noted that the business-like price did not justify the ho-hum rooms. It could be worse though: behind the bed, Mrs. O found a comment card from a guest complaining that the water was out for three days. So they count their blessings.

Go West, White Man

Brenu Beach: Come for the beach, stay for the lobster.

Obligatory shot of Elmina Castle and the lagoon.

One can visit Ghana, see the garbage-strewn beaches and think that is all there is to see of the coast. However, the further you travels from the capital, the more impressed you become. The journey started at the least auspicious time of the least auspicious day of the week in Ghana (Sunday 10AM: nary a vehicle on the road). Passing by the usual hangouts of Bojo Beach, Kokrobite and Tills, the group ventured beyond the road well-traveled by obrunis. For the most part, the Accra-Takoradi road is well-maintained and not particularly daunting, as long as you don't mind letting the occasional bat-out-of-hell tro-tro overtake you while passing the occasional loaded-down, smoke belching one yourself.

Given the majority of tourists were aged under 3 or around 60, the group stopped for the first night a little past Cape Coast and Elmina at Brenu Beach Lodge. It was a handsome place on a palm-fringed beach, but was lacking character, as if one could be on a tropical beach anywhere. On the downside, the AC wasn't working and the evening was a bit toasty; on the upside, the fresh lobster was great.

Elmina: passing the Dutch hall on the left-hand side.

The next day, Mr. O and parents drove into Elmina, a fishing town dominated (once literally) by St. George's Castle. Owned by the Portuguese, then Dutch, then British, its major purpose was for trading, primarily slaves. In spite of this, a rather nondescript group called Ghana Ecotours provides tours not of the castle, but of the deeply historical town that routinely gets overlooked by conservative tourists. The fact- and philosophy-filled walking tour featured 18th and 19th century homes, colourful posubans of Asafo companies (hard to explain, but here's a crack at it), a cemetery and ended with a walk up to the hilltop Fort Coenraadsburg, all with maximum information and enthusiasm, but zero hassle. It was hands-down the best tour Mr. O had taken in two stays in Ghana.

At the hilltop fort with our guide (and fish market, saltponds).

Moving on, the group proceeded to their ultimate point, the West Coast beyond Takoradi. For those who experience the nondescript and garbage-strewn beaches around Accra, the West Coast is practically magical. Although the Gulf of Guinea current is still dangerously rough, the beaches are pristine and sparsely populated. The group settled on the Hideout at Butre Beach. It was aptly named: it required a half-hour of driving down rough palm oil plantation roads and beach trails, following the occasional sign and passing the occasional village. The Toyota's 4WD capabilities were thoroughly tested. The Hideout is at the end of the road next to a fishing village and one could easily go there and not be found (several Jimmy Hoffa jokes were made). It was supremely chilled out: private huts with fan and mosquito nets, beachside cabanas and delicious meals and cocktails. Unfortunately, turtle nesting season had passed (see you next year), but canoe tours of the nearby mangroves were patronized - the group observed plenty of colourful birds and the occasional hawk and water monitor ("crocodile", according to locals). Nearby Fanta's Folly was also observed and looked like a winner as well. Apparently they will pick up guests who fly in to Takoradi from Accra - saving several hours of driving.

Butre Beach: nary a person or piece of rubbish in sight.

A day trip to nearby Busua Beach was taken for Mr. O's most anticipated activity in Ghana: surfing. The Black Star Surf Shop is the first of its kind in Ghana and has spearheaded the nascent surf scene in Ghana. Busua's conditions were near-perfect for beginners: even at high tide, one needs only wade a short distance with the board to catch a steady wave, leaving most energy for catching and riding rather than paddling. Mr. O took an afternoon lesson with patient instructor Peter and was up on the board in no time. Mr. O has vowed that this will not be the last trip to Busua. He is not alone: the town itself is starting to heat up as a backpacker hangout and even has a classy hotel for those not fond of mosquito nets.

Up the river from Butre village in the deep dark mangrove.

Busua Beach: physical proof that Mr. O can hang ten.

On the return trip, the group missed their intended stopover at Blue Diamond near Saltpond and ended up staying the night at Tills No. 1 Beach Hotel. The place makes for a great day trip from Accra, as the beach is nice for the area, there's shade in the palm trees and the food is good. 15 years ago, it was probably quite grand, but now is a bit of faded glory: the sprawling grounds need more upkeep than they can handle (although Little Miss had a fantastic time exploring the place) and the accommodations were a bit disappointing: the water was out (it happens everywhere) and the A/C in Mr. and Mrs. O's room was not functioning. In spite of this, the next day they still received a hefty bill with no slack and instead promised better "next time" (which was extremely presumptuous). Lesson learned: stick to day trips.

Regardless, it was great to rediscover the West Coast. Mr. O had fond memories of the area and spent the preceding six months trying to convince Mrs. O that there is something far better than the garbage-strewn beaches of Greater Accra and that it was worth the travel. Next time, a flight to Takoradi would be relatively cheap and quick alternative. Hopefully they can convince their friends to make an excursion in the near future...