GHANA PART 3

Here's a local furniture store. Notice that you have to cross a deep and wide open ditch/sewer. If there wasn't a chronic water shortage, perhaps they could fill the ditches and float gondolas in them. NAW.

At left are the utensils used for making the starchy dough ball at the bottom of a soup called "fu fu". It's made by pounding the peeled cassava root with the long pole in the large wooden bowl. This picture was taken at the small house across from where I was staying (the digs).

At the right is a pub. Yep, a pub. Some of the night spots
were a bit more modern but not all that much.

At the left is the Kotoka International Airport in Accra, the capital city of Ghana. No other picture (lifted from the Internet) could have made this airport look better.









GHANA - PART 3

 

I must confess that, after seeing the airport in Accra (the capital), I wasn’t sure what to expect when getting ready to depart for Kumasi. The Airline that John selected was “Starbow”. We stood at the end of the line and waited for our turn at the counter. The ticket area reminded me of a checkout line during a closeout sale at a discount store in east LA. That any commerce could be conducted in the mass of chaos and confusion was astounding. Nevertheless, we wended our way to the ticket counter after only a long time.

Imagine my surprise as I neared the desk and saw a sign that said, “TAMALE”! My first thought was that I could purchase this Mexican food treat before boarding the plane. However, there wasn’t even a hint of the smell of cooking food and I was around six thousand miles from the nearest Mexican kitchen so that ended that.

It didn’t take long to determine that “TAMALE” is a city in northern Ghana and is its third largest city. It is heavily populated with Muslims and is also heavily populated with “NGO’s” (non-government organizations like the “Catholic Relief Services”, “Care International”, and “World Vision”).

 

After getting our tickets, we were required to wait in a special area prepared for passengers. It was a large tent with a half dozen swamp coolers with misters. It was comfortable enough given the fact that there was no other A/C available. It was still a bit warm for me but at least the chairs were hard and uncomfortable.

My first guess as to what aircraft that they would be using wasn’t a pleasant thought. I could see a 60 year old four engine Douglass DC-6 prop job with one of the motors temporarily (or not) replaced with a big block Chevy engine. Much to my relief they used a real modern jet liner, the BAE 146. The competing airline used an Italian-built 70 passenger ATR 72 turboprop airliner. Having both feet in the "Twilight Zone" wasn't too bad so far.

Prior to departure to Ghana, my dear wife had done a lot of homework about the environment there. Her primary concern was about mosquito bites. Africa has serious health issues due to mosquitoes and she wanted her husband back in good health!  That concern came about when we discovered the fact that you can’t even enter the country if you have not been immunized against “yellow fever”. In fact, when you de-plane and are standing in line, the very first document they demand is the immunization card and not the passport!  

So, nurse Connie began prepping me for the worst. She must have figured that there would be at least a bazillion mosquitoes (a bazillion would be roughly twice the current world population of mosquitoes) with which to contend. So, she doused all of my clothing in some sort of anti-mosquito preparation and loaded up my suitcase with “DEET” mosquito repellant. I had to promise to hose myself down with the stuff each day to ward off death and destruction. That made sense to me as I noted that a wife's "husband preparation program" is inversely proportional to her love for him.

My first morning in Kumasi found me grabbing my pump bottle of “DEET” and giving it a big squirt. An intelligent person would have first verified which direction the nozzle was pointed. My lack of intelligence was brilliantly and painfully reinforced as I shot a blast of that powerful stuff right up my nostrils. Can you imagine the joy in my soul when I realized that no mosquito would ever again be able to threaten my sinuses? Lest I try to protect my eyes too, I just trusted the treated clothing from then on. Guess I can’t be trusted with a loaded pump bottle.

The city utility services in Kumasi are rather “interesting”. The electricity is only on about half the time in any given part of the country. They suffer “shorts” and “longs” which is the local vernacular for the shorter or longer power outages that are suffered daily. These outages come at the most inconvenient times and keep the population angry much of the time.

I was never able to confirm the precise cause for this and neither can the natives. But, there are only a couple of excuses that make any sense. One is that they rotate service to the various regions because there is a shortage of resources. That didn’t appear to me to be the primary cause and others doubt that that is the case. Another reason is a lack of modern hardware including distribution resources and that may be a factor (though, again, not provable). It may be a combination of these items. To me, the preponderance of the blame seems to point to a completely incompetent and completely apathetic government. The government owns the electricity company which is named (drum roll, please), “The Electricity Company of Ghana”. In fact, when queried, the government smugly says, “Blame God” and sloughs the entire matter off.

The outages truly are inconvenient. Much of the time I took sponge baths in the dark or by the light of my cell phone. Not really a hardship per se but it did leave me with a greater appreciation for our system here in the US. Perhaps we can address the the sponge bath part later as we get to the matter of city water dysfunctions. Included in the dynamic is the fact that roughly 40 percent of Kumasi residents still rely on public toilets (recalling that Kumasi is a city of approximately two million souls).

The electricity there is a 220v system with a three pronged plug. You have to have a voltage converter and outlet converter to use appliances hauled in from the US (I did have the adapters). An interesting note is that they usually don’t have the double wall outlets like we do and most folks don’t have (or don’t need) a power strip. That means you can operate your TV or your air conditioner but not both. At the lodge in Ajumako my room had one outlet. I could use either the TV or the small coolerator. As it turned out, I used neither mainly because they only had one (uninteresting) channel on the TV.

Both at the lodge and at the digs, all of that high potency electricity was funneled into a single 30 watt light bulb. I never had enough light until the last night at the lodge in Accra. Only then was I afforded….two….30 watt bulbs. Is that efficiency or what? Having the extra light meant that I could use my video camera while communicating with Connie via “SKYPE”. That was a real treat. You can’t do that with only one bulb, believe you me.

More about the Ghahanian adventure when I can. Ta ta, for now .

You may have to copy and paste the URL's below to be able to watch the videos (I didn’t shoot the videos). If that doesn't work, then type in a You Tube search for the respective title.

VIDEO: In the Streets of Kumasi (You Tube) - 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEvlsE91Q2E&feature=related

 

VIDEO: Kejetia Market in Kumasi (You Tube) - 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbfXkBZ502U&feature=related

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GHANA PART 2

This is a shot of one of the side streets in the south part of Kumasi. A few streets were worse and a few were better.

 On the left is a picture of "fish and chips". The fish is deep fried Tilapia (in a wok) while the chips are actually a local yam cut to resemble French fries. You actually can't tell that they are yams unless someone tells you! Amazing. In fact, I didn't see a single spud the entire time in Africa.

The picture on the right is of the lane leading from the lodge we stayed at while in Ajumako. Note the clothing draped over the shrubs to dry. This is a very common practice there. The clothes dry very quickly in the hot African sun.

Ghana Part 2

 

The “digs” is located about 3 blocks or so from a slum area. I was soon to learn that that would be no worry. Seems that there are no gangs and thugs in those parts with which to contend. A few days later, I walked about 6 or so blocks into the slum area to purchase some batteries for my portable fan. The artificial wind it generated came in handy when the electricity went off (as it often did…as in about 50% of the time). Certainly, it was only after I had conferred with Brother John as to the wisdom of such a trek. “Not a problem”, he advised, so I headed down the paved street onto the unpaved street and started looking for my much needed “D-Cell” batteries. It wasn’t so much that “God was with me” as it was that “the Devil was not with me”. Works for me.

The national motto of Ghana is “Akwaabe”. It roughly translates as “Y’all are welcomed here”. Without controversy these nice folks take that to heart. The no few venders in their wooden huts and shacks were quick to say “Akwaabe” and “God bless you”. It couldn’t have been more peaceful or accommodating. I found the batteries and headed back to the digs. It would be several days before I again ventured out for such a walk. But, there was peace about the matter and I did need to reload my wireless internet pre-paid card.  

Some may want to ask, “Which side of the road do they drive on in Ghana?”. Well, the short answer is the right side (since 1974 when they switched from England’s bassackward way of doing it). However, in reality, they drive on whichever side of the road has the fewest holes in it and the least traffic at the moment. The first rule of the road there is that there are no rules.  

You can’t even begin to believe how they drive there! I’ve heard stories about Italy and France but, Ghana seems to take the Twinkie! Try to envision starting to make a left turn across 4 lanes of traffic (2 each direction) only to have one car turn inside you and two others turn on the outside! As often as not a motorcycle would be in the middle of all the turning cars too! If there was a 2 foot gap between bumpers someone WOULD edge there way into it! Unreal.  

Occasionally, they have the courtesy to signal you with their lights and/or horns. But, you have to be quick and sharp as to how to interpret the signals. For instance, if you are turning in front of oncoming traffic, you may get a quick flash of headlights signaling you to proceed with the turn. However, if you find the lights are flashing more than once and the oncoming traffic does not slow down and is beeping his horn, you have a different interpretation. What he is telling you is, “I see you and now you seem me. Don’t even move. Just breathe ‘cause I AM coming through!”. See how simple that is?

I wasn’t really fond at all of their practice of passing on hills and on sweeping curves (inside sweeping curves too!! ACK!). Every so often a horribly wrecked car, van, or truck stood as mute testimony of the foolishness of such practices. Yet, no one seemed to take notice or care that their lives were in grave danger.  

John thought it best to allow me to rest most of the first day at the digs. I thought that was a great idea and did just that. After all, I did have access to one of the (apparently) few air conditioners in town and I certainly was tired from all of the travel. He came to fetch me for supper that evening and then for lunch the next day. Guess what we had for lunch? How about Chinese food! Talk about being unprepared for that one! What a pleasant surprise! At first it was no big deal. However, after about three days of eating the local cuisine, I became a big fan of Chinese food and kept my chopsticks at the ready from then on.  

The local cuisine? Well let me tell you about the local cuisine, cousin. Most of it consists of fried/cooked/dried plantain (much like a banana but with a much higher starch content), coconuts,  beans, rice, palm nut soup base, chicken, lamb, goat, mutton, akrantie (a large bush rat), tilapia fish, smoked dried catfish, okra, yams (easily confused with a potato in taste and texture), casaba made into “garry” (a bland cereal concoction) and “fu fu” (a staple soup base into which you may toss a chicken leg or such), and any particular combination thereof. Kumasi is not all that far from the ocean so they do have access to seafood. However, it really doesn’t take long to tire of these elements and long for a nice juicy greasy hamburger and fries combo meal, spicy taco, a pizza, or even a meatball sandwich from a "Subway" sandwich shop. 

If one were inclined, he could eat a meal of “Whatchmacallit Stew” being brewed over an open fire next to the sidewalk or road. Some of these quick witted chefs gave their 4’ x 4’ wooden restaurant with open pit fire a high profile name like “Hollywood Restaurant” and “Jesus Saves Restaurant”. Well…just the same…."Ol’ Disinclined Ran", they call me.  

About the only roadside eating that John and I did was to nosh on some banana bread muffins (not quite as good as Connie’s, of course) and a highly modified Asian spring roll. I didn’t ask and don’t want to know just what the greenish gray mush was in the center of this tough-as-a-boot leathery roll that sold for about 25 cents.  John sent a couple of these hockey pucks home with me to snack on later but I was hoping to feed them to the local crows. I’m still not sure what happened to them but they quietly disappeared into the Kumasi ecosphere. Reckon God was watching over me.  

One roadside treat was the young coconut delicacy. I had never experienced the delightful experience of slurping down young coconut. The gentlemen who served us were armed with a utilitarian device known as a “machete” in most parts of the world (I forgot to ask what they called it in this part of Africa). The vendors hacked off the top of the coconut then you drank the coconut milk. After that, they hacked the coconut in half and you scooped out the soft gelatinous flesh of the inside with your top piece that had been previously hacked off. It was such a wonderful treat! I so seem to recall that everyone was quite polite to these young fellows. I shouldn't wonder.  

While the spicy Ghanian food didn’t upset my stomach, it did present my digestive system with some efficiency challenges. That simply means that getting used to the change in my diet precipitated a noisy change in my immediate environment. Within a couple of days my new African name was “Malfumee Mbooffo”.  

Don’t touch that dial (not that any of us are old enough to remember when they said such things on radio and television sets. In fact, todays TV's don't even have a dial!)! I should be fully recovered from the trip to Africa within about 20 years and should be fully lucid. Anyway, I’ll post another update as soon as the dust and smells of African no longer influences my thought processes nor affects my biorhythm.

Ghana Part 1

At first Ol’ Ran had planned to present a rather thorough story about the trip to Ghana. This may not be the case. It’s difficult for me to totally understand this dynamic at the moment. But, I just can't seem to get my head and heart into it. Part of the reason is the incredible impact this trip has made on my spirit, my soul, and my body. Just the physical demands were grueling. Try spending 18 hours on an aircraft in one day. That’s pretty tough stuff for an old guy especially if he has already spent two weeks in a totally foreign and unfamiliar environment.

This trip accounted for a number of “firsts”. One such first was that this was my first time to fly on a Boeing 747. I’ve never had the pleasure of strapping 750,000 pounds of aluminum, plexiglass, and JP-4 jet fuel to my fanny and watching such a modern behemoth fly off the ground into the heavens. However, the four big Rolls Royce RB211 turbo fan engines had no problems hauling all of us into the sky and we were a full boat. Another first was the fact that I had never spent ten hours aloft all at one time. This was a non-stop flight from LAX to Amsterdam.

This was my first time overseas. I’ve been to Mexico (more than once) and Canada (more than once) but had not crossed the big pond. Of course it was my first time to go to Africa.

Being in Europe was another first. Because the flight was a Dutch KLM 747, the hub and transfer point was Amsterdam. Amsterdam seems to be a nice place with nice enough folks. I would have loved to have spent more time there and just eaten their plethora of cheeses for a few days. I understand that the Dutch are never more than arms length from a chunk of cheese. Right smart if you ask me. Maybe next time I can factor in some play time in Europe.

The flight (in fact, all of the flights going and coming) was smooth as glass. It was not unlike being in a huge Motel 6 with wings because you couldn’t tell that it was moving. It was as though it was parked in a Wal-Mart parking lot in Albuquerque. It was rather eerie, in fact. I welcomed an occasional wiggle of the tail to let me know that I was still aloft and not just bolted to a carnival aircraft simulator or such.  

They did feed us well, I must say. When I got to Amsterdam, I was full of food and coffee. That didn’t stop me from tracking down a nice hot cappuccino and a croissant, though. I was actually surprised at the good food that KLM offered.

After a 3 hour layover, I boarded an Airbus A330-200 to Accra. It’s a nice plane with LCD screens on the back of each seat.They stack you eight across instead of ten across like the 747. Though KLM has a nice selection of movies for entertainment, for some reason I wasn’t much interested in watching them. I did see a couple on the return flight but only watched them out of sheer boredom and to mentally escape the discomfort of having so much of me tucked into so little a seating area (about 20” x 26” – Economy Class, don’tcha know).  It was early evening time when I arrived after a 6 hour flight. Much of my body was aching from being boxed into the cramped quarters.

We landed at the Accra International Airport where I encountered the first of many surprises about Ghana. It was like landing at a 1960’s airport that had no terminals and where all boarding and deplaning was done on the tarmac with rolling stairs out under the stars (though I did see another set of stairs that had a cover on it). The airport building was old….really old. They were in the process of renovation but I would soon learn that such a process could easily be a decades-long endeavor.

 The second surprise was that there was no A/C. That, too, would be the standard in Ghana. Due to the construction, the A/C had been unavailable and we were all left to swelter in the heat of the night. On the return trip I did find a restaurant there at the airport that had its own generator so it had its own A/C. You can bet I parked in there to wait for my boat to leave. For the time being I just had to find Brother John who had called me to advise that he was waiting for me near the front of the place.

 We soon hooked up and were on our way to spend the night at a youth hostel of sorts. Apparently there are no motels as such in Accra. There are Hotels and there are lodges but no motels as we know them. How interesting.

After a good night’s rest, we were ready to depart for Kumasi which is about 140 miles away. I had thought that John was going to drive us there. Later I would understand how the road is not in the best of shape and that there are police check points that are really just shake down stops to fleece the people. So, John's brother, Eric who lives in Accra, hauled us back to the airport to catch a plane.

By car the trip, though only 130 miles or so, would have taken as long as 6 hours. By air carrier, the trip is only about 45 min. When we got to the aircraft, I was pleased to board an old friend, the BAE 146 four engine sweetheart that Pacific Southwest Airlines (PSA) used to fly back in the 1980’s. It’s one of the best and safest people haulers ever built. I hadn’t been on a 146 since about 1986. I loved it then and still do.

We landed and deplaned at what I thought must have been the wrong airport. To begin with, this is the second largest city in the country. Yet, we had to “back taxi” on the single runway because there were no taxi ways! The small terminal was no larger than the one at our local airport in Porterville! The huge sign over the door convinced me that we were in the right place.  

For reasons that I’m not sure of, the airport was crowded with people out front. There were about 50 people or on the airplane but three times that many waiting out front. Some were “hawkers” selling their wares but it appeared to me that the rest were waiting for relatives or sending someone off. But, the numbers still didn't seem to add up.  

John’s associate pastor, Cemo, picked us up and drove us to the place where I stayed for the entire time while in Kumasi. I affectionately refer to it as “the digs”. I am about to become acquainted with an entirely new planet. Welcome to Kumasi, Ran. Now, hang on.