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.