In a Heartbeat

So for those of you who don’t know, last week was our mid-semester break. We had a week to do whatever we wanted, some kids went hiking in Mali, some went traveling around Senegal and the world’s biggest joke on Africa: the Gambia (a region known in most geography books that bother to deal with this dry, flat portion of the globe as Senegambia). I joined the ranks of those traveling far and wide to visit significant others and went to Ghana to visit Devon.

A few weeks ago I wrote about Slok Air and the very real chance that I might get stuck in a country that a few years ago was wracked by civil war while they threw goats up onto the top of my plane. (Un)Fortunately (depending on how you look at it), the airplane trip was relatively uneventful except for delays both going there and coming back…which was really to be expected since this is Africa and any planning in Africa requires about an hour or two extra “shit happens” time (cause shit just happens here). If you’ve got the time, and are looking to save money, I’d actually go so far as to recommend Slok Air in a heartbeat. It’s really a classy joint. They serve their “distinguished” passengers (that’s right I was distinguished!) decent meals to a soundtrack of smooth jazz and R&B love songs depending on which way you're going. The service is friendly and you get to see a few nations that are trying to make their way out of civil war. (note – Liberia has beautiful beaches and a whole lot of UN helicopters. When those UN helicopters leave guaranteed to be the next hot vacation spot.)

I'll tell the rest of the story from back to front because it’s more confusing that way and the more I can confuse you the more I can trick you into thinking that I’m a good writer. When I got back to Senegal, the question everyone had on their lips was: “How was Ghana?”

The answer: “It was…clean!”

“And Green!” I added after the original shock wore off.

“No you're making this up” people would say (I’m seriously not kidding about this one, people didn’t believe me – not that I can really blame them).

“No I swear. Cab doors stayed closed, and they opened them when you wanted them to. There wasn’t trash everywhere on the roads. They had stoplights. And get this…there were actual rules. And people followed them!”

At this point I would usually get laughed out of the room. But it’s true. Ghana is clean. And green. And it has rules that are followed. I’m sure Devon and her friends got sick and tired of me saying things like “I can’t believe how clean it is” and “What is that big brown thing with the green tuft on top of it?” and “Oh good a goat I feel home now.”

I will say that while there were goats in Ghana, they didn’t seem to have the run of the streets like they do in Senegal. Which either comforts me because it means that evil goat’s aren’t taking over or scares me because it means Devon won’t have an army of goats to defend her should the stray dogs and cats unite and rebel against the Man. And the prospect of dogs and cats uniting is probably what scares me most…

So Devon and I divided the week between Accra (which is clean, and green, and has rules) and this area called the Volta Region (which is green, and hilly, and has an actual lake). The Volta region managed to be both breathtakingly gorgeous (I’ve got pictures up over there ----->) while at the same time restoring my faith in the fact that mountains AND large bodies of fresh water exist (both of which are in short supply in Senegal). We stayed at this place called the Xofa eco-village (pronounced like the dorm at GW that manages to be both the nicest and worst of the freshman dorms – HOVA). Now I don’t speak a word of Twi (well that’s actually a lie – I know four: etesen, medaase, ankaa and oburoni which mean “hello,” “thank you,” “orange,” and “white man” respectively – thanks to Devon for the correct spelling), but I can guess that “Xofa” is Twi for “paradise.”

We stayed in this little mud and stone hut with a thatched straw roof. There was no running water, no electricity (we had to use kerosene lamps at night). Yet somehow this place managed to be paradisical. I guess Africa is the same all over really (remember Toubab Dialow – paradise even with mosquitos, no water pressure and bad lighting).

We took a canoe out to an island (well I guess canoe is a relative term – it’s my understanding that canoes are supposed to keep the water out, not let it in) where we hiked around, walked through a real live African village, saw real live African villagers, and jumped off a real live African cliff (a big yellow steel T floating in the lake). Then we came back and had to get back to Accra, so we took another canoe ride to another real African village where we hiked up a “small small hill” which is apparently Twi for “heap big mountain” to catch our tro-tro, which is Twi for “really nice Alham without goats,” which took us back to Accra.

I have a confession to make, this has probably been the hardest post I’ve had to write thus far. Not because I didn’t enjoy my time in Accra, on the contrary, I loved it and would go back there in a heartbeat. But if you’ve been reading my blog closely at all, then you might notice that a pattern arises in my posts. They’re about rediculousity, outrageousness, and general madcap mayhem that occurs in Africa. And here’s the thing about my Accra trip, which in and of itself is probably the most outrageous thing that happened: nothing outrageous actually happened...

I mean sure weird things happened, like the time I ordered yam fries, expecting orange fried sweet potatoes and getting something like a tough French fry, but that was probably my own fault for expecting something like sweet potatoes in Africa. Or that time we ordered chicken (Yes! I had Chicken!!!) at the beach and they said it would be a while and was that ok. It’s Africa so of course it was ok (you know the extra “shit happens” time I was talking about earlier), but we apparently missed the part where he said he had to kill the chicken for us, so when we heard a few screaming clucks followed by a THWACK and then silence we really shouldn’t have been as surprised as we were.

But for how weird these situations were, they were isolated incidents, and really nothing to write home (or a blog post) about. And that in and of itself is outrageous, and a little disconcerting to be honest. Am I just becoming jaded to the crazy stuff that happens in Africa? Or is it something more sinister, like hoards of evil goats roaming the streets of Dakar causing all sorts of outrageous things? Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll find the answer in the second half of my stay here (yes I know, hard to believe its already half over).

Love
Jake

Ps – apparently google (the greatest invention ever) now has a picture posting service online, which I plan of utilizing fully. You can find it by following the google picture link over there-----> right under the link to Karly’s blog (which should be updated since she returned safely from the Casamance – a region that is known in Senegal for, beautiful beaches, green trees, wild animals and periodic separatist conflict). I mean it’ll be the same pictures as the other one, they just upload faster so if im online at the same time as you, you’ll be able to see them better. And I think the google one has more bells and whistles and fancy things like that – so you’d better be wearing your fancy pants if you’re gonna go visit that one. Anyways, I’m rambling.