Goodbye Kumasi, Hello Cape Coast

Eating fufu communal style with Julianna as my farewell meal Saturday

 
Monday, December 20, 2010

I am in Cape Coast (in the “Central Region” of Ghana, right on the Gulf of Guinea , one of the main port cities and slave trade sites of the Dutch, Portuguese and English)! It's original/aboriginal name is Oguaa, but everyone seems to refer to it by its colonial name now. Although there are definite similarities between here and Kumasi, the “feel” here is completely different: it feels far more relaxed, and is obviously more affluent (due to it being a port, it has been a hub for centuries and where Ghana’s real commerce and trade began, slowly spreading North, and, to this day, making the northern regions the most impoverished), there are more white folks walking about and, because they are not such an anomaly, I haven’t felt the harassed, overly conspicuous feeling I have had thus far during my time here when venturing out.

I arrived this morning and somewhere around 7:30 am. I left Kumasi at 4am. Fei was kind enough to come pick me up and give me a lift, along with his daughter Irene. They, in true Ghana style, had been up since 11pm, at an all night church service that had gone on from mid-day Sunday. 

Kumasi Market (when not busy!)

Earlier that day on Sunday, I had joined Fei, his wife Agnes and Irene to their church for the English service at 7am (they do not sleep here very much!). I actually spoke in front of the large congregation and church officials thanking the church for supporting my visit (the church’s district minister had given me a letter of invitation which enabled me to get a Visa to come to Ghana). After church we had done some last-minute erranding, checked out where Agnes works (I am even more impressed by her now) at the dauntingly huge and congested market (the second largest Africa I think), lunch out and then they took me to the Ashanti museum (actually Asante in Twi).

Asante symbol

The Asante palace was the first palace of the king of the Asante people, built by the British as a means of apology, if I am remembering the history correctly. It sits on the property of the present day palace where the current king lives (who is well loved for his educational fund, being an advocate for education for all children in the country). It was very well organized and quite wild to be walking through a piece of their fascinating history.  Apparently the British exiled the king to the Seychelles, after he refused to turn over their sacred “Golden Stool” and wouldn’t pay the money (tithe) apparently owed to them for taking over the area (go figure). The British, after a change of leadership, “revoked” (for lack of the right word) his exile eventually allowing him to return, 20 or so years later and offered him the palace, but he refused, until he was able to pay the tithe, such that they were no longer in debt to the British. Smart and classy!

Me with the Queen who led a fight against the British

Anyway, all this to say that after a long day out, Fei and Agnes dropped me off at the guest house and then returned home to rest. Fei slept for a few hours, got up and went to the all might service until it was time to come pick me up! During this time, I did my final packing with the help of my two “daughter”, Martha and Elisabeth. Oh yes, Fei and I stopped in to visit the grandmother on our way back to the guest house that afternoon, to ensure there was no confusion like Friday night, to tell her that Elisabeth was invited to come by the guest house to say goodbye to me. Fei was also to speak to the woman about supporting her granddaughter and to put in some good words for Elisabeth, but, unfortunately, he didn’t. 

It was sad series of goodbyes, with the girls, and with Samuel and Abaah.  The girls, especially, because of their situation, Elisabeth with her unhappy home life, so wanting to achieve and yet so unsupported , and Martha, such a smart girl in many ways but a struggling one too (she has strong ties to one of her aunts, siblings and grandmother, but lost her mother). I also discovered that Marta is almost illiterate! I asked her to write a thank you card for Fei,  for taking us to Monkey Village and Kintampo Waterfalls, and, when she struggled to write it in English, I said she could write it in Twi and she couldn’t even write “Me daase”  (thank you) in Twi! How has she made it to grade 6? What will become of her?! I told both girls to be sisters to one another; Elisabeth to help Martha with her schooling, especially reading and writing, and Martha, to be there for Elisabeth who feels so alone. I also enlisted Samuel to be the big brother for the girls and maybe see his role as a teacher too. I told him that maybe this is why he was there, not only to be a student, but to be a teacher to struggling ones like Martha.

Samuel and I said goodbye a few times, both finding it hard. I do hope I can support him from home. He is such a giver, a lover, a hard worker and so capable.  I will do what I can for him from home, helping with school fees, getting him extra resources for school and then, eventually, give him this computer when I buy a replacement.

Julianna's motley crew of teenagers

I also went over to Julianna’s to say goodbye to her and her crew of teenagers  (Nana, her son, Emmanel her adopted grandson, the daughter of her “sister”- who lives with her - home from boarding school and 3 other girls who also staying there over the holidays). 

I then returned back to the guest house for an early bedtime as I was to be up by 2:30 am and I had been feeling sick all evening. I think I reacted to the soup Fei and I had shared at lunch. I had it “coming out both ends”  eventually and was worried I wouldn’t be able to make the trip to Cape Coast. As it turned out, I could and didn’t have to ask the driver to pull over to let me throw up. I still feel a little battle fatigued, tender tummy and all, but after a smooth bus ride and having a wonderful nice older taxi driver take care of me and my very heavy valise, I arrived safely and swiftly to Saana Lodge where I will be for the next 3 days. The lodge is clean, a little run-down in the usual telltale places, like the halls, stairwells, bathroom and shower, but, I can’t complain. Everyone is so friendly and I can see, and even hear, the ocean from my wee balcony! I even have a TV in the room, on which I watched – after no TV for 6 weeks- “The Untouchables”, still one of my favourite movies, this morning before conking out for 4 hours). There seems to be a government conference going on here, with many important looking vehicles in the parking lot and many well dressed men walking about. 

Thank goodness for Western Union. I am ashamed to say that I realized, after being so careful 2 weeks ago to set aside the American money to pay for this room, that I was short. I don’t know how I managed it, maybe somehow mistaking a 20 for a 50 (American money kind of screws with my head, like the drawings on stoves for which dial works which element…) It was kind of funny actually, the situation I was in. I had figured out last week that I could probably use Western Union to send myself money using my credit card (which is helpful, considering there is no way to take money out here on a credit card and no one accepts credit cards). I had some credit left on my Zain modem to use the internet, but just low enough to make me uneasy. The internet is slow with these things and it took me forever to load the right pages to even get the information on how to set it up. I feared I might run out of credit before the transaction was complete, if I did it online, so I decided to do the transaction over the phone (I found out about this while on the site today).  This too was an ordeal, and especially stressful as I didn’t know how quickly the credits on my phone would be eaten up, being out on hold transferred here and there… besides the fact that the reception was horrendous and I kept having to ask the representatives to repeat themselves. I ended up pacing back and forth, waiting for a final transfer for an identity check, which, once begun, had stresses of its own. I was asked 5 questions about myself, which ranged from easy to answer ones like my social insurance number, my age and then ones which stumped me: Calgary addresses in the 90s! I told the man that I had moved 8 to 10 times in the 90s and could scarcely remember the addresses! This, on top of worrying about running out of credits and having his words garbled on the other end so much that he threatened we could not continue (I pleaded my case and we persevered), I was “beside myself” as they say. Anyway, it was all well and good. I needn’t have worried. The credit on the phone seemed almost unaffected (because it was an 1-800 number?) and I somehow got the right answers to the questions about myself!

I called my trusty Manuel, the cab driver, who drove me into town to the Western Union (oh yeah- money within 45 minutes! It took longer AT the bank, standing in line), to top up my cell phone and my Zain Modem, as well as to get me a bumper sticker for my car, through a maze of dirt streets between all manner of automotive stores and repair facilities, metal being hammered, cars on their sides being worked on, strewn car parts, men standing about, chatting or looking under open hoods…

 Having said this, though, the downtown here seems to be, unlike Kumasi, rather quiet during the day, building up into the evening apparently, and much smaller then congested, sprawling Kumasi.  There are a few wide roads which seem to skirt the downtown which, unlike Kumasi, are almost entirely devoid of the characteristic potholes, market stalls or signboards, and which have planted flowering trees and shrubs along the medians. It was a pleasure to drive around today, unlike in Kumasi, which I would return from exhausted and feeling filthy. 

Cape Coast has its pollution, though, don’t get me wrong, seeing mounds of smoldering trash and smelling the burned oil-fuel mixture of car exhausts, and it does have its garbage, both much less though it seems overall.

I walked down to the beach this afternoon and was disgusted by the mounds of garbage along the high tide line. I cannot help but think how this impacts the ocean life, with fish, turtles and mammals swallowing plastic bags and such. I had an image of these creatures being buffeted by layers of floating sandals, plastic bottles, bowls, and bags as they swim… ugh! It is at such times that I wonder if we really are going to be able to “turn this boat” around, as I our destructive, polluting, devastating ways, to save the health and balance of our precious, tenuous natural environments? 

On a happy note, Fei, Julianna and Samuel have all called today to check in. It will be interesting as we all get back to our own lives, this intense past 6 weeks will soon be relegated to memory as do all such things, no matter how poignant, perception-shifting or even life changing they are. 

I can’t believe that I am as exhausted as I am. The sickness and last night’s schedule have impacted me considerably. It feels great to be on my own time now. I can sleep as I need, taking my time to write my blogs, read, whatever. It is fun to feel like a backpacking traveler again and I am so glad I was encouraged to spend some time on the coast by a friend, Angela, who did a nursing practicum in Accra several years ago. This is a wonderful way to end my time here. This morning I sat on the balcony, mirthfully eating my peanut butter (spread with a nail file for want of a knife) and Asante bananas on pieces of bread I tore from the loaf I brought with me. I hope to go to Elmina Castle tomorrow to check out the dungeon and other slave-trade and colonialization-related historical relics; it will be emotional as I still cannot fathom how we could enslave one another and I imagine the fear, sorrow and anger those people must have felt being ripped away from their villages, their families…

Martha at Kintampo

Mona Monkey

The links to the pictures of my last few days are below (including Friday’s excursion to a Monkey Sanctuary and Kintampo Waterfalls with Julianna, Fei, Marth and Samuel) just at the border of Ghana’s Northern region (the architecture is somewhat different etc..). The roads were just horrendous far (we traveled on a main transport thoroughfare connecting Burkina Faso and the North of Ghana to the South, which the trucks have just destroyed) and the traveling distance long, as well as horrible late-night stand-still traffic in Kumasi, making for a very long day, but it was worth it.

http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/cACwhDDJWrpymYiuwskoZw?feat=directlink
http://picasaweb.google.com/kpedicelli/KumasiDepartureAndCapeCoastArrival?feat=directlink