September 22 2010 / Takoradi, Ghana

Today was an incredible day in Ghana.  I for once didn’t get up to watch the boat pull into port, because I stayed up pretty late I think the night before.  But I did get up and snack on some eats before going up and being called to go outside for my FDP I was doing, where we went as a class for my Women in High Courts class to visit the Queen Mothers of the Essikado tribe and their court.  Even around 10AM, it was getting warm, and the humidity is intense.  It’s not even that hot feeling as much as it just feels jungle wet here, wherever I go, it’s always with a bit of a perspiration layer.  Anyway, we hopped into our tour bus and headed out—port is structured so that there’s about a fifteen minute walk between the ship and the gate between port and the rest of Ghana.  So we drove out for our around forty-five minute adventure through Ghana.  EVERYONE—women, children, men—waved at us as we went by, especially schoolkids, who would leap up and down in excitement.  I’m not sure if it was because we were in a bus or because we were all white—probably being white.  Everyone here just seems so friendly, and not even in an “I’m trying to sell you something” kind of way.  Just in a friendly way. 

There are lots of little tiny one-room shanties along the roadsides, selling different things like old television sets to shirts to sodas, and ALL of them have names like Jesus Saves Laundromat.  Everyone seems to be highly religious, or maybe that’s just the common link, that everyone knows those stories.  As opposed to all the cats on the streets in Morocco, here there are lots of dogs, and LOTS of stray goats and occasionally sheep too.   Most of the women, and some of the men and children, are balancing things on their heads that they are carrying around, lots of them HUGE or incredibly heavy items—I saw a man carrying around a wooden 5x5 rack of sunglasses like it was nothing.  The roads are dirt and potholed, and the big buildings are usually banks, churches, or schools.  The schools seem to usually have dress codes of blue uniforms, and lots of kids were outside as we drove by, many of them hacking at weeds with machetes—not sure what kind of school this is.  On the outside walls they oftentimes have the alphabet painted on or common words like pig or house or things like that.  All the towns are shack towns—I have not seen a western house here yet. 

The queen mothers were in a fenced off building nearby a school, I think, and it was built on a bit of a hill.  I abruptly got really nervous—not every day you get to meet royalty, after all.  But we filled into the front room, where there were chairs in a rectangle, and on one side the eight queen mothers were sitting, and their two interpreters were on either side of them.  The queen mothers wore beautiful kente cloth, some wore lace and headscarves.  I didn’t realize the interpreters (men wearing white on either side of the queen mothers) were not royalty, so I shook their hands according to the way you’re supposed to in order to show great respect (with your left hand clasped on your right forearm).  After the greetings and we’d all sit down, we presented our gift of schnapps to the queen mothers, which they accepted.  Interestingly enough, we would have to talk during the beginning through our guide and from him to one of the interpreters, who would then talk to the queen mothers.  After a while, though, they told us they were very educated and that they would address us in English.  I feel like I learned so much about their political interests—right now they are working very hard for the education of girls in school, as they are often left behind, as well as organizing vocational and training schools.  Though many of them are also teachers or nurses, it seems that their duties as queen mother come before all else—none of them would say much about their family life.  They were incredible speakers and it was wonderful listening to them talk.  I asked them how we should better the world, and they answered again to educate girls—sounds like a plan to me.  :)

Midway through we had a bit of a break for lunch and we snacked and talked a little to the interpreters as the queen mothers went to go attend to something else.  When they returned we discussed a little of everything—microfinance, the meanings of the clothing that they all wore, and they told us that we were being very good and respectful, though they were letting some things slide because we were still learning their customs—such as to not sit with your legs crossed.  She got our professor on that one.  :D

They were gracious enough to allow us to take some pictures with them, which was amazing, and after a little bit of photo time (I purposely kept away from snapping my camera—I feel like I can get the pictures without offending the queen mothers by taking lots of pictures) we left the queen mothers.  They were so friendly, and strong speakers.  You could definitely feel the power that they have just from the way they spoke, and with such conviction.  It was really interesting seeing them all together—they had stressed discussion, and before many of our questions they would chatter and laugh among themselves as they shared ideas.  It was almost a very informal court—really interesting.

We went back and Martha went to go get one of her guy friends while I waited for her, as we were going to journey into the market circle together.  His name is Adam, and we also picked up a Laura who was also walking.  Outside the ship directly there were a bunch of people who had set up little boutiques, selling drums and African masks and little carvings and paintings, some of which are actually really cool… still trying to figure out if they would be mom and dad’s “thing.”  Everyone greeted us when we came into their shop, though some people would greet us coming out.  One guy in particular shook my hand and kept shaking it while he was talking to me and asking my name and where I was from and finally my email address, to apparently “chat with me more.”  No thanks!  We were quickly on our way after that.  It took about fifteen minutes to get out of port and probably twenty to twentyfive more to make it down to the market area.  I know The Jungle Book is supposed to be about India, but Ghana IS The Jungle Book.  It is rainforest jungle and it’s CRAZY.  All the buildings are very much crumbling and falling apart, and you can’t really tell what is abandoned and what isn’t.  The greenery of the forest is just everywhere and almost feels to be pressed against you no matter where you go. 

It took us forever to find an ATM and I still haven’t seen a single public phone.  Half of us were able to get out money, half of us weren’t—Ghanaian ATMs are a little temperamental.  But anyway, we walked down to the market which was the most incredible thing.  Inside the circle it was just jam-packed with stalls and booths, like Marrakech but on CRACK, the walkways were so tiny and small.  Mostly it was women and children doing the selling—there were LOTS of blackened fish, dead fish lying out.  There were also giant snails and live crabs, limes, toilet supplies, spices, anything you would need.  One woman asked how old we were, and when we said 20 she cheered and laughed because we were in her age group.  She didn’t even ask us to buy anything, she was just genuinely interested.  Another woman offered me some of the roast plantain she was eating (I took it and ate some, and it was delicious) and still another jokingly asked Adam if he would marry her—we were all laughing.  The people were just so friendly and didn’t seem to care if you bought anything or not, they just liked to talk and see what you had to say.  It was completely different than Marrakech, even though it was very similar in structure. 

We walked a little ways after that and found a little stop to get something to drink.  I can’t remember what I drank now, but it was a non-alcoholic beverage made from malt that tasted like pear.  It was almost like a Martinelli’s cider—was really good.  We then took a cab back because I’d told Julie I would meet her at 6:15, though that seemed to not really happen as we both got dinner and were kind of both too tired to do any more exploring.  I did, however, want to get drinks, and Dasha convinced me and Alexa, a girl from Chapman I’d been eating with, to come with her group.

Directly across from the ship was a duty-free shop where a lot of students and faculty were just hanging out and drinking on the second floor, so we climbed up the stairs (Alexa and I, I mean, we kind of ditched our group because we didn’t want to walk through port in the dark), went in and got a bottle of South African wine, and split it.  None of us knew any of the people on the patio, but we did our best to find some chairs and sit down.  The wine was okay—probably would have been better if we had suitable glasses.  We talked for a little while, but as it grew louder and louder, and finally when a student flipped his chair over and knocked all the glasses off a table and shattering onto the ground, we knew it was time to go.  I apologized to one of the Ghanaians watching nearby—students can make such asses out of themselves and their country sometimes.

Alexa and I went up on deck 7 and just chatted about alcohol laws, school drinking experiences, and responsible drinking, as well as Ghana stuff and traveling in general.  I just couldn’t remember where I knew her for the life of me—I am going to be really embarrassed if I find out she is a Phi Sig and I can’t remember her.  >.<  But anyway, around 2330 we decided to go to bed, as it was late and we would both be getting up early.