Africa 2006

As the song says, “All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go” - except my bags are not yet packed.

But otherwise I’m pretty much ready for my 23.55 departure for Reykjavik, via Milan and London. In an eery symmetry, my final flight is scheduled to land at Keflavik Airport at 23.55 on Tuesday.

If I land to see 100 camels roaming the snow-covered lava fields (I hear it’s been a bit wintry in Niceland lately), then I guess a deal has been brokered and I’ll have to return to Africa, but otherwise I’m looking forward to the darkness and snow again after a great trip.

Stay tuned in the coming days for a “proper” conclusion and of course - a slide show.

1. Speaking English!
2. Discovering a book exchange just when I ran out of reading material. My new collection includes a novel about a UK public-school drug addict, the hilarious confessions of an IRS tax collector, and a novel about Newfoundland’s coming-of-age
3. Air conditioned buses - one of which was even on schedule!
4. Meeting by chance two people I had met on separate occasions in Mali over a month ago and catching up with them
5. Beer in the evening with different guests at the Mighty Victory Hotel in Cape Coast - something I thought I would find everywhere, but ultimately proved to be quite elusive
6. The canopy walk at Kakum Park - I did it!
7. Visiting Elmina Castle
8. Visitng Cape Coast Castle
9. and 10. - TBD… After all, I haven’t left quite yet!

After ten days or so of fluctuating health and visiting orphanages, it was a nice change to do some purely touristy things in Cape Coast.
One was my first visit to a National Park on this trip. Kakum National Park is one of Ghana’s smallest, but is only 35 kilometres north of Cape Coast. It’s not home to lions or tigers or bears – but I did see lots of ants! There are also monkeys, antelope, and hundreds of bird species, but many are scared away by the presence of humans. What most people, including myself, visit Kakum for is the Canopy Walk (one of only four of its kind in the world – and constructed by Canadians!).
 The Canopy Walk is a series of seven small suspension rope walkways constructed 30 metres above the ground, above the tops of the trees, affording an unorthodox view of the rainforest.
Unless you’re like me, and really scared of heights.
It’s pretty clear from the solid rope construction (and the nationality of the builders! J ) that the canopy walk is safe. But that didn’t stop me from being very very nervous as I stepped onto the first walkway and heard it creak and crack as I inched forward (only one person is allowed on each walkway at a time, because it sways so much). The walkway was too narrow even for my two feet to be next to each other at one.
Once you start, you can’t stop, so I continued along all seven, focusing just on the bit of walkway in front of me and never glancing around to see the (apparently spectacular) view.
But I did it. And it’s the bravest thing I think I’ve done on this trip.
**
Cape Coast is most famous for its UNESCO-listed castle of the same name. The part of the coast has more forts and castles from the slave trade than any other region in Africa and it is estimated that between 12 – 25 MILLION people passed through the continent as slaves over a four hundred year period (OK, don’t quote me on all the stats; I don’t have my book here to confirm everything).
Cape Coast Castle was one of the major posts for the slave trade, operated primarily by the British, but also at other times (again, don’t quote this!) by the Portuguese, the Dutch and the Danes.
The tour of the castle included the dungeons where thousands of slaves were kept chained together until they were shipped like tinned sardines off to the Americas. They are dark, dank, sweaty, stuffy, and incredibly small for the number of prisoners they contained at once (150-200, although I didn’t get the exact dimensions of the cells).
There was also a special room for those who were convicted of trying to escape – they were chained together in groups of 50, without fresh air, food or water, and left in the room until everyone was dead, at which point the corpses were thrown into the sea. Above the rooms was the chapel – as our guide said, a sort of perverted version of heaven above and hell below.
Our guide also talked about the education system – the oldest schools in Cape Coast (and Ghana in general has a reputation for having one of the best educational systems in the region) were originally opened for mulatto children – the offspring of female slaves who were raped by the European captors. Pregnant women were not sent to the Americas and their children were generally looked after by the Europeans. Surnames like Johnson and Van Dijk still exist in this region.
Outside the castle, the waves crashed against the rocky shore and fisherman plied the waters in long narrow boats with long narrow flag poles atop them. (Except on Tuesdays, when they take the day off to allow the fish to rest).
I also visited the castle at Elmina, a smaller village 10 kilomtres from Cape Coast, where little boys played with kites they had fashioned from discarded black plastic bags.
It’s been a sobering, and a fascinating, past few days.
COMING UP: I head back to Accra, the Top 10 for Benin, Togo and Ghana and – the big finish!!

I was grumpy. 

I woke up in Accra with a minor cold; my head was throbbing from clogged sinuses. Contrary to what the hotel staff had told me, the buses to Cape Coast, 120 kilometres west along the coast, were not leaving every hour, and the only one that day (I had missed the 7.30 departure) was leaving at 4.30pm, meaning another night-time arrival in a new city. It took an hour by taxi to drive the 4 kilometres to the Accra bus station to buy my ticket.  Later that afternoon, as I prepared to depart, the friendly but somewhat futile Man Who Can Only Say Yes (a similar incarnation also exists in several other countries…) was working at the reception. “Can I catch a taxi right outside the hotel here?” Yes. “Or should I walk down to the main road for a taxi?” Yes. “Will you give me a million dollars?” Yes. (OK, of course I didn’t ask the last question, but you get the idea). 

No taxis were showing up, and by the time one did and I managed to talk it down to a vaguely reasonable price, it took well over an hour to return to the bus station (“It’s only a 20 minute drive,” the MWCOSY had assured me at the hotel).  I arrived at the station and the bus was delayed (of course). 

To paraphrase Bridget Jones: grrr, grrr, grrr. I was tired and becoming frustrated by the tiny inconveniences that happen all the time here but are normally just part of the fun experience. Would I never get a straight answer from anyone? Would there ever be straightforward transportation anywhere on this trip?  And then I met a lovely woman, with tinted sunglasses and a grey hairpiece which was reminiscent of Mme Samb in Senegal. 

I had tapped her on the shoulder to ask if I was indeed waiting at the right spot for the Cape Coast bus. Yes, she assured me I was, and then introduced me to her friend who was travelling on the same bus. The friend told me she’d keep her eye on me and make sure I caught a fair taxi at a fair price when I arrived (late at night) in Cape Coast.  I thanked her for her kindness. 

“Well, my children have travelled abroad and have always been treated well by local people,” she said. “So when I meet people travelling here I always try to do the same.”  And, just like that, she restored my faith in the whole experience. 

PS – Even more so, when, upon reaching Cape Coast, the woman’s friend escorted me in the taxi and insisted on paying for it when I safely reached the door of the (wonderfully named) Mighty Victory Hotel. It reminded me about how, at every corner of this trip, I have been met with kindness and hospitality. 

“So, how did you like Togo?”  

I was being ‘quizzed’ by the Togolese border official at the Togo-Ghana border post at Aflao.

“Well, it seemed nice, but unfortunately I wasn’t feeling very well, so I didn’t get to see much of the country,” I answered.  

“Ah!” – that’s the only way I can write the falsetto exclamation of mock horror that seems common in this part of Africa, used to mean something like “What! You can’t be serious!”. “Well, that’s alright,” he continued. “Next time you visit, you can find me and I’ll keep you company the whole time.”

I crossed the 100 metres or so into Ghana, my last overland crossing of this journey, and the story was similar. 

“Can I have some money?” an official inquired hopefully, after asking to see my yellow fever vaccination (finally – it was the first time since Bamako someone had asked to see proof of the expensive piece of paper. Finally it seemed all the cost was worth it – plus, you know, medical protection against a potentially deadly illness).

I shook my head. 

“Well, maybe you could marry me instead?” he ventured optimistically.

I declined again, but I did offer him a token Canada flag pin (one of those free ones all the MPs give out). This time, he turned me down (!!!) 

And so I arrived in Ghana, land of English speakers and religiously-themed hair salons.

Yes, southern Ghana’s fervent Christianity is famously expressed in the many religiously themed names owners give their various enterprises. In the first few minutes of my bus ride to Accra, I witnessed places like the Goodness and Mercy Veterinary Clinic, Glory Mart, the Holy Trinity Spa & Health Farm and Sweet Jesus Fashions. A van was painted with the slogan “The Lord will protect me from all danger.” It was parked next to a construction site where tree trucks kept up the different floors and people worked several storeys up without any hard hats.  

The three-hour (in reality, 5.5 hr) trip to Accra was filled with more potholes and police checks that I had anticipated from a country many ex-pats in other regions had insisted was the most “civilized” and “advanced” of the region (their choice of words). But the journey passed without incident and I arrived along the tree-lined and refreshingly moto-free boulevards of Accra just as the sun was setting.

I had a reservation with the Caspar Guest House. My Rough Guide listed it as “mid-range” in price, but as loyal readers will recall, I had to have a confirmed reservation before my visa was issued and so I had chosen a slightly pricier place because I needed it to have access to a fax machine to send the confirmation. My guidebook listed it as about $35 US / night, certainly more than I have been paying, but worth it now and then.  

Except the price had now gone up to $70!!

Of course I paid it – the reservation was made and I was tired (and the German owner was nice and friendly). It will get considered an extra cost of buying the visa.  

Then at dinner I was relaxing in the small octagon-shaped restaurant of the hotel and ordered chicken kebab with rosti (hey, it was on the menu!). I could smell the grease heating in the kitchen. Then a cat ran in through the open door, not an uncommon occurrence. But within a minute she was racing around the room and screeching. I glanced over my shoulder to see that she had caught a still-writhing mouse between her jaws. The cat gave me a satisfied look from where she stood right next to the kitchen door.

So this was the entertainment an extra 40 bucks buys. 

(PS – And although my air conditioner started dripping water and making very bizarre noises in the middle of the night, waking me up and forcing me to change rooms, the owners were very helpful and friendly and actually gave me a nice discount, so I can’t slam them too much. Still, I’ve had to switch to a more budget-friendly place, and will leave tomorrow for Cape Coast. Onwards and upwards, as they say!).