The next stop was Tamale, but we had quite a journey ahead of us to get there. For starters we were on the wrong side of the lake, and our choices were a car ferry at 9pm, or a people boat at 7am. We were strongly advised to get the earlier one, and I guess that was the best choice. Earlier start = sooner to town. Most of the germans had come to the hotel too, but they all had an early night, not like us party animals! But we saw them all at breakfast, which was a greasy omlette on half a baguette with tea, coffee or milo. What, no rice crispies!?! There were a few unhappy faces on the guests, but, what you gonna do? This might also have been due to failed attempts at having a shower in the morning too, but there were buckets and scoops, stop moaning!
The owner ferried us all to the ferry in his car, 4 people at a time, getting us all there far too early, but then early enough to shove us all up to the front so we could watch everyone else arrive and get on. It was a pretty

Mark Towner BSC
Bronze Swimming Certificate, thank god….

large open top wooden boat, about 40′ by 6′, and they packed a lot of people on it, along with god knows what else, bikes and chickens…. At least we all got seats, they put all the kids on the floor under the seats. Poor little buggers. After an eternity of loading, they fired up the engine and we were off! Or… not. We went about 10 meters out, they cut the engine, drifted over to another part of the shore and loaded up some more people. The sun was getting hot now, lets go! Another 10 minutes of faffing around and we left, the other side was about an hour or so away, the lake was pretty calm so it was a pleasant enough trip across. Not much to see apart from groups of dead tree trunks from the flooding to make the worlds largest artifical lake, but I now know these can be very dangerous, run over one just below the surface in a crowded boat and you can capsize.

Happily there was bus waiting for us on the other side, get your wooden chit giving you a seat, pile your bags on the roof and get

Africa shock!
Anna and Tua emerge emotionally scarred from sleeping in the Al Hassan

on board. I got in, realised I was missing 2 inches for my knees and got out again. Thinking I’d snagged the best seat in the front I was quite happy, until I realised I had to share it with another guy and the kid who helps the driver, Still, I had some leg room, and I even had the chance to hop out whenever the bus stopped. The extra guy got off soon enough anyway so I was sitting pretty…. right next to the engine! Couldn’t sit next to the window, I had leg room but my leg were being baked! Oh well, I just grinned and bore it for the couple of hours it took to get there, the roads being dirt tracks we didn’t make the best of time, but it wasn’t too bad. At least we didn’t break down, or crash, which is always nice.

Tamale is a city, but you wouldn’t guess it from walking around the place, more like a largish town. The American girls had recommended the Catholic Guesthouse as the place to stay, however the girls wanted to go Muslim so we walked the short distance to the Alhassan hotel. Even after viewing the rooms I dont know why we stayed there. Maybe we were tired, but it stands out as one of the worst places I had stayed, ever. The guidebooks give it a real pasting in the reviews and even mention the ‘hot box rooms on the ground floor’, guess where we were staying…. Still, location, location, locations eh! I had a shower in the bath from the pipe sticking out of the wall triying to avoid being slimed from the rampant fungi growing up the wall, the toilet flush was a wire sticking out of the top with a chipboard wooden seat. No mirror or sink. I had to swap out the lightbulb in the bathroom so I could see in my room. The beds sunk in the middle, with bed sheets that didn’t fit (always a favourite to find yourself sleeping on a filthy matress in the morning), there was lino on the floor but full of large holes and really dirty. I wasn’t even cheap!! It was like one of the worse rooms from the Paper Street house in Fight Club. What a shithole….

I asked the girls why were were staying there, and didn’t get a good answer, but still, it was only for one night. We went out to explore the town, find some food and sort out our bus for the morning. After checking in at the STC bus station we were given some vague instrustions for finding the other bus station to Mole, then we wandered around there for 10 minutes trying to work out where the bus departed from. We had some vague idea about it at the end, we had to come back the next day atfer 8am to buy a ticket from someone in the station, and then the bus would leave at 2.30pm. Clear as mud. We walked around the market and found an internet cafe which was pretty fast, just a quick check on the mail and then off to a little restaraunt for some food. We had the usual fun with the lack of service, I asked the waiter what time it was and he said ‘oh yes!’ and ran off! huh? Seems like his watch was broken so he had to go check a clock. The place also had the usual stupidity of having the bar seperate from the food, so ordering drinks means they have to pass the information on…. but the food was ok, which is good after waiting so long since the greasy omlette in the morning.

Anna had to call her brother back home on his birthday, she didn’t get long for her money, but at least she go through. We bought a few things and went back on the internet for another hour before heading back to the shitty hotel for a nap. There wasn’t much else to do in town, I had a wander around and saw a few people from the boat/bus. I was still looking for a charger as my mp3 player wasn’t being charged by the one I bought in Accra. I also managed to do some laundry which was long overdue while I had the chance. Later on when the girls woke up we went back to the same restaraunt we had lunch and sat on the roof drinking beer, shooting the shit and trying in vain to get some food from the chef, there was no water so this was a problem, and he kept coming up to us to as since the waiters were so totally useless. We eventually got some food and inevitably attracted the attention of the local male population, two guys came over to talk to us, but they were ok. One left after a while and despite stealing all of the girls cigarettes we agreed to let him show us one of the local bars.

Ah, what a silly night, we sat outside one of the bars by the Cultural Exchange Center on plastic chairs getting drunk, salsa dancing, refusing to talk about our broken hearts, finishing off all the beer in the place, racing each other around the CEC (sprinting when drunk is not a good idea), talking about music, thinking but never managing to get up to dance to the cool African music playing, finding the only non-homophobic man in Africa, drinking baileys and eventually completely emptying the chest fridge of all liquid. The bar wasn’t even that busy, but popular with the expats, of which Tamale has its fair share and more so in the case of the Dutch. We staggered off to find some water, which is a challenge when drunk in a tiny town in west africa at 1am, but we managed it in the end and got back to the hotel. I was really looking forward to a night in that scrotty bed!

I got up at 11am and packed, checked out at noon but was pretty hungry. I woke up with a pain in my stomach though, it felt like there was a brick in my stomach, obviously something I had hadn’t agreed with me. I had a bit of a headache too, but no fever. Still, it didn’t seem like such a great idea going on a ferry for a day and a half if I was going to be ill. I generally don’t get ill when Im away, I had a few loose ‘movements’ the week before, but nothing to stop me from travelling, I was just getting used to the water and the food.

I needed a cash machine and breakfast so I started walking up the road into Adabraka, it was pretty warm but ok, even with my backpack on. I found an ATM but it didn’t take my card, by now I was 3/4 of the way to the Orangery so I popped in for some breakfast. Something was bugging me on the way, and I looked in my little backpack and couldn’t find my money belt. While I waited for my food I checked my big

The calm before the storm

backpack but it wasn’t in there either. Im not suprised as I never put in there anyway. I had locked all my stuff in a locker in the room, including my money belt but couldn’t remember taking it out. I ate and took a taxi back to the guest house, and it was propped up in the locker. Phew. It was getting on for 1.20pm or so now and I had to get to the ferry for 5pm or so, but plenty of time as I figured it would only take an hour or so to get to the pier. I got another taxi saying I wanted to go to the barclays ATM and then to the tro-tro station to Akosombo, I asked which station it was and he said he didn’t know but he gave me a price of 25,000 so I said ‘ok, you can ask someone on the way’. There aren’t that many stations in Accra and how would I know since i was the tourist.

We got to the ATM, the traffic was pretty bad but of course he didn’t ask anyone. We went around the block and I asked where he was going, to the STC station he said. I may be a tourist but I knew there was no bus going there so I insisted we go to the tro station. Past the ATM we went again and off to the Tamale tro tro station. The stupid driver got forced into the station by a bus right up his arse only to find it was the wrong station so then we had to turn around in the chaos and wait to get back out. Seems like it was third time lucky and we went to the station in the market and there was a tro to Akosombo. I gave him 30,000 and got out while he protested. He got out and started shouting at me, ‘uh oh’ I thought, but the people around asked what I’d been charged and where we went and agreed with me. Typical man, too macho to sak for directions but I’d be damned if I was paying the 40,000 he wanted, 25k was probably too much as it was.

The Tro was half full and now it was 2.30pm after taking an hour to drive about 3 miles (well, 6 miles with the route he took). I got a seat and sat there sweating with everyone else. The bus started filling up slowly, but not as fast as I’d like. Some guy got on and started giving a speech in English about how he was HIV positive and lost his wife to the disease and how his daughter was also infected. Ghana has lots of posters all over the place saying that people with HIV shouldn’t be stigmatised as it could be you next. Some people listened, most just talked and ignored him, i guess its a pretty regular thing in ghana to get a lecture on AIDS prevention while waiting in a bus. He said some weird things though, like telling people to take their own scissors to the salon when they got a haircut…. a razor, fair enough, but I dont think you can get HIV from dirty scissors.

After about an hour the bus was full and we pushed our way out of the market tro station, the place was like organised chaos but we got out somehow. Another guy got on the bus, I had to move seats to make room for his briefcase and as we worked our way through town and now the guys starts yelling some nonsense I couldn’t understand. ‘Amen’ everyone shouted back at him a few times, he told them a few jokes and got everyone laughing. Then, bizarrely, he pulls out some condoms from his pockets and gives a lecture and demonstration on their use. Wasn’t a complete demonstration of course :p Everyone was laughing, and even more so when he pulls out some femidoms and demonstrates their use too! Lord only know what he’s telling them, but eventually the lesson ends and he pulls out a big sealed box and starts going on and on about them. Heres me thinking they are the AIDS meds he as to take everday or something, but then after 15 mins building them up people start buying them all through the bus. He sells nearly the entire box, probably 30 small boxes at 15,000 each (£1). I get a look at one and its caffiene and ginseng energy tablets. They lap em up, can’t get enough of them. Then he pulls out some boxes of deworming tablets, gives another 10 minute spiel and sells one box. Something wrong with the balance of sales i think. Then he jumps off the bus and goes back into the city. I guess he makes a pretty good living.

The bus wasn’t running to the schedule I’d like though, it took an hour to get out of Accra so at 3.30pm I only have an hour to make the ferry, and I need to buy some food if I assume Im not getting anything on the boat. But the guy is not exactly breaking any speed limits, he keeps stopping to drop people off and then we have a 5 minute break as they pull all their shopping off the top of the bus, sacks of yams, new bicycles (the lad who got it was so pleased with his dad) but what can you do but wait and hope you make it. I saw a few mileage markers to Akosombo and amuse myself by mentally working out how fast we’re going, I figured it might be pretty tight as the pier isn’t actually in town but a taxi ride away. After multiple drop offs we finally get to the tro station by the market, I get a taxi to the pier at 4.30pm. Barring any major mishap I was going to make it and 15 minutes later, 15 minutes before the scheduled departure I walk up into the second class floor and meet Anna and Tua again. I guess they were getting worried I was going to abandon them, but it was not the case.

I dumped my stuff and went back out to buy a straw mat to sleep on, some bread, red onions, tomatoes and tinned sardines. At least I wasn’t going to starve now, and I wasn’t the only person with a brick sitting in my belly, we all had the same food the day before so it wasn’t malaria after all! The girls were sitting in the galley area, but it was pretty busy and pretty stuffy. I had a look upstairs on the bridge deck where all the cabins were and there were a load of ghanian soldiers and about a dozen tourists. Seems that was a better place to sleep so we moved up there and set up ‘camp’. I needn’t have worried about leaving on time though as we sat there for more than an hour loading more stuff up. I had charged my mp3 player with my new £25 charger (my third since I got one off ebay that broke and one from maplins that would have blow up all my gear if I had plugged it in, pile of crap) but it wasn’t up to the job and despite saying 100% charge only lasted for 10 minutes, same with the second set of batteries. The girls were gutted, but at least they have me for entertainment! Tua sat and wrote her diary while I played cards with Anna, and despite her assertion she was a poker champion I won every game. Shame for her she wasn’t playing poker :p

We set off and it was pretty flat, no wind, still no mosquitoes (Ghana was great for that, it was so dry there weren’t any, much better for my malaria paranoia) and down went the sun and away went the cards. Took them about an hour to turn the light on up on the deck so there wasn’t much to do. I sat and read on my phone, having a backlight is great for that. They started serving food downstairs and we went and got some, rice+tomato sauce+boiled egg; the staple of the galley. It was ok, and cheap plus they had cold drinks but it got a bit tedious after 6 meals of the same. We were promised omelette for breakfast the next day but that wasn’t to materialise.

I had told the girls to get the west side, i.e. the left so we wouldn’t have the sun in the morning but they had a blonde moment and had claimed the right side. No biggie I thought, I had a sleep mask anyway, but then the wind started picking up. It got quite blustery, and you could feel occasional prick of water on your skin. Rain or a bit of wind swept surf from the bow? 10 minutes later we got the answer as it started raining! Doh! We grabbed all our stuff and ran for the back of the boat where they had a big canopy, typically the German group on the left side (our side dammit! :p) just moved their stuff to the wall and stayed put. Our side got soaked! We sat at the back cursing our luck and after a while the rain stopped and the wind died down, but the side of the boat was soaked. So much for an early night! Still, nothing you can do, just hate the people that got there early and got a cabin (with AC!)

We had to stop some Ghanian woman from stealing our mats twice, cheeky cow. We later learnt Sandra from Holland wasn’t so vigilant and had hers pinched. She even accused me! Of course I wouldn’t, but we made it a joke later when I kept apologising for pinching it. I wouldn’t have minded sharing mine with her though, she was lovely! The deck dried out a bit so we reclaimed our places and sorted out our gear, it was only 9pm but everyone started getting ready for bed. Looks like we timed it right as soon after they killed the light. Wasn’t easy to sleep, it was so early still. I read for a while while the girls played 20 questions. Seems they only knew pop stars and actors, all too easy, so I kept them going for 15 minutes with Neil Armstrong and Einstein. They were so puzzled by a person know for his travels and couldn’t pin him down to a continent :p After about 2 hours of annoying everyone else on the deck we went to sleep.

Dragged myself out of bed in the afternoon and got myself back down to Osu to buy a charger for my gadgets. I’d found one the previous day in a camera shop which would do it but didn’t want to carry it around all day. I bumped into the yannks playing Jazz from the previous night and got chatting about what they were doing and what I was doing and they’d done the boat trip up the Volta Lake recently and told me the guide book was wrong about the times. The ferry leaves in the afternoon, not the morning, so could leave the next day and get it. In the camera shop I got chatting to a Indian girl from London who was there with her Ghanian boyfriend, she said she loved it, but was really just there to drink and have a good time. Like most people she knew nothing about the eclipse, but she gave me a tip on her favourite beer.

I got my charger and went back up to the food court to wait for the girls; we’d arranged to meet up at 4.30pm for lunch. They turned up just after, not looking their best, but then it was a long night. We ordered pizza and Jo came over for a while too. That is a girl on a mission, she’s heading to South Africa overland and has done 8 months already, then shes heading back north to Tanzania. I hope she makes it through Nigeria ok because its not the quietest place in the world at the moment. Her and Pam were living with some Rasta guy and his family, and its not very good to turn up in the morning and sleep all day :p She was going to see the eclipse in Accra because she was staying to do a couple of week volunteering.

Jo left and the three of us went and surfed for an hour while we waited for the sushi place to open at 7.30pm. When we got back there the owners were at the door, shrugged and indicated they were closed. Damn. We wandered down to the other sushi place, sat down and looked at the menu, but it was so stupidly expensive we didn’t feel any shame in getting up and leaving. Im sure the staff were happy to go back to sitting around listening to music as they were when we came in and interrupted them. No rice and fish for us then so we went and sat at the container bar again and had a beer. Some guys car started burning across the road which was some entertainment, but it was a fairly quiet night. The girls chatted to a Danish girl next to us for a while, I sat there not getting a word.

A group of Americans sat next to us too, I could have sworn they were English because they all looked like a bunch of Chavvy hooligans, but I guess I wasn’t too far off the mark. Tua spoke to one of them in the queue for the toilet and wasn’t very happy when she wouldn’t repeat the phrase ‘God bless America’ which they were getting the local boys to say. God bless Africa I say, America has run out of blessings. Seems like they were a bunch of soliders on leave and off on an adventure, of course there were 6 of them, heaven forbid they should be able to go abroad on their own or in a pair, anything could happen… like you might not be able to insult the locals or act like dicks because there aren’t enough of you.

We tried the beer recommended to by the London girl, although the waitress tried to put me off by telling us it was only 1% alcohol when the girls were in the toilet. They looked stunned when they came back and I told them, low alcohol drinks are like poison to your average alcoholic swede! The drinks came and we we relieved to learn this gordons spark ‘beer’ was 5.5% after all. We were not so happy to find it was a gin based alcopop! Ugh! We needed another 2 beers to get rid of the taste. It was going to be an early night though as sundays are always quiet in ghana and we all had to get up and moving in the morning.

The girls were still hungry though, so we drank up and went over the road to the burger place, for a burger… hmmm, they’d ran out of burgers. It would have to be Frankies then up the road, a favourite with locals, and not run by Ghanians so we had a good chance of getting served in a resonable time frame, ie our lifetime. The American GIs were sitting outside, we walked past them and up the stairs, and then rather strangley one of them shouted out ‘F**k Swedish!’, Anna instantly shouted back ‘F**k America!’ and we carried on up the stairs laughing. How bizarre!

Frankie’s is run by Libyans or some such middle eastern country so we all order Falafel’s with hummus as a side dish cos the girls said they were too dry. The hummus came first which we then ate and had to order another! They’re too efficient! Two big buses pulled up and about 40 teenagers came in with their teachers, the majority of boys in kilts. God knows what they were doing there, Anna and Tua were most intrigued, but not enough to start chatting them up, they looked about 14. The Americans were no longer hanging about outside, it was midnight and time to get some sleep. The girls were also getting the ferry the next day, but staying with their friend who worked in the American embassy. Nice to have a maid to wash your clothes isn’t it?!? I said I would meet them on the boat before it sailed at 5pm and we got taxis home.

As drunk as I was I still had something to remember, the place to meet for the following night. I got Jo to shout it into my camera as a video so I would remember. But first I needed some food to recover so I heading back to Osu for a bad coffee, terrible sandwich and dodgy cake. For about £4, but thats hangovers for you. I didn’t get up until about 2pm so it was already late. I just hung out reading in the food court, watching the kids have birthday parties reading on the phone. I went to use the net for a while too and send a few mails. Haven’t been using it much as its so damn slow and the PCs are horrendous too. Welcome back to the ninties in some cases….

At about 7pm I needed to be making a move to meet up with the people from last night so I walked down the street and there are Jo (and Pam, the aussie woman she has been temporarily travelling with) talking to a taxi driver so we all hoped in together. He didn’t know where it was (neither did we) but we knew the

Tua is your biggest fan!

general area and headed over there, asking another taxi driver on the way for directions. It was a concert at the ‘Alliance Francias’, some franco institution that loves to promote French culture (or language) wherever the poms have too much influence. I ran into Renet from the taxi the day before sans Peter who was at the airport about to go home then went and sat with Anna and Tua for the concert.

Talk about numb bum! I thought it was supposed to be a gig, but they got the french consul and the mali ambassador up to give a speech (in french) and boy could those guys talk. Half an hour we all sat there listening to god knows what! Speak a language we all know…. Anyway, eventually Habib Koite came on and I must say they were pretty good. African band from Mali, guitars and drums, and they looked happy to be there, unlike the miserable bastards at Ryans. I got up for a boogie, but by the end of the night there was no room at the front and they were pulling people onto the (rather low) stage. Jo had a great time as HK are

Finger clicking good! :p
Me, Jeff and Anna show our appreciate of Jazz. Nice! :p

one of her favourite bands, dont think she got to meet them though, but I snagged her a band poster off a noticec board and got extra brownie points. We sat around in the bar area afterwards as people slowly left, there was no cold beer left and they let you order sandwiches only to come and tell you you wouldn’t be getting them after all….

Time for more music! We got 2 taxis and headed off to ‘Jazztone’…. oh dear! Yeah, the band was in full swing, the be-bop was coming out and people were scatting all over the place. Expensive as hell (like 60p for a *small* beer!?!?) but at least they were cold and they still served food. I dont really appreciate jazz, but it was ok. The band was from all over, with several members Americans only here for a while. Some guy got up and sang ‘when the saints go marching in’ and I chatted to him at the end, he was a ghanian living in LA and playing Jazz in the states. Nice guy, couldn’t find the CD he showed me on Amazon though. I got up and played some ‘Jazz’ too at

Country *and* Western!

the end, I mean, how hard can it be, just hit some random keys right? :p

2am and it was still to early to go home so we headed back to Osu in 2 Taxis, me with Anna/Jo/Tua. Seems the right choice as the place we wanted to go was closed and we assumed (falsely) everyone else was going to bed. (They hunted for us all over Accra for 2 hours, oops!). We had no idea where to go, but the Taxi driver (who was a country loving cowboy) stuck on his Parton tape and took us over to the Strawberry spot across from the Orangery Restaurant. There was the English Anna I met in the pub the night before along with Paul (dressed like a knob, it was his birthday) and a half dozen other young volunteers. We all grabbed some beers and introduced ourselves and got down to a good chin wag. We were soon up dancing to the music they were playing and by now I was recognising more and more songs they were playing. There are some great local bands in Ghana and I resolved to track some of them down when I went home.

Strawberry Dance

Of course the sight of half a dozen white girls dancing drew in all the local blokes, but they weren’t too aggressive and we all had a good laugh. Where else would you get your Taxi driver hanging around to dance and chat at 4am?

It started getting light and there was some talk of the beach going on when running up the street past the spot came about 30 people in shorts and trainers out for their morning run, before the heat got too much. I was quite drunk and when a few people joined in with the run I had to go along as well. Damn steep hill though and after 2 mins and a failed attempt at taking some photos I gave up and walked back down. I think Anna and Paul kept going for a mile as they didn’t come back for 20 minutes! I would have gone further, but…. what was the point? :p

I then had my first 2 bad encounters in the country. I was walking back down the deserted road to the bar and I hear a car beeping behind me. Nothing unusual in that, I’m white, I love it

Early Breakfast

when Taxis beep at me because I’m too rich and lazy to walk anywhere. My first assumption was correct, it was a taxi, but sitting inside it was a policeman that then proceeded to shout at me, asking if I owned the road and what I was doing. I wanted to say ‘listen pal, make a f**king pavement by the road that isn’t strewn with rubble, open sewers and plastic bags and I’ll walk on it. Until then get you stupid beeping croney to move the taxi to the other side of the *empty* road and just go around me. Wanker!’. But he had the gun so I stayed quiet and apologised. Arsehole.

Then I got chatting to a guy called ‘Lyrics’…. heh, right, who was as camp as christmas. He started going on and on about Jazztone and didn’t quite believe me when I said I was in there earlier. We started chatting with the gold ‘ol taxi driver and a black girl that was dancing with us earlier when I saw 3 local guys walking down the road. I knew they were trouble as soon as I saw them, but they didn’t head towards me or the girls so I wasn’t that worried. You could see the one with the brown shirt on had a bad attitude, like a guy in the pub that just wants a fight. He started talking to Paul and pulled him of the side of the road to talk to him, he was acting all friendly but you could see him holding Pauls arms and I knew there would be trouble. Then he puts his hand in Pauls pocket and Paul’s pushing him away, telling him to fek off. Paul goes back over to the main group but then this arsehole starts trying to pull the same trick on the Canadian lad who hasn’t seen this. I go over and tell the lad to leave, go join his friends, meanwhile Anna is down the road walking to some bloke and Im worrying about her. The arsehole comes up to me to shake my hand, which he does but Im not getting into this bullshit and I get over to the main group.

The spot is closed now and they’re tidying up, but the arsehole kicks a big beer bottle at the bar. The guys cleaning up go mad and start shouting at him, his mates come up and back him up, Im thinking its all going to kick off, but they go off down the street. Phew. Then 2 minutes later its decided we’re not going the beach, we’re not taking a taxi (the poor taxi driver waited for us for about 3 hours) and we were all going for breakfast. Most of the volunteers had left by this point (they had to get a bus at 9am :p) so there was only 6 of us, but we’re going in the same direction as the arsehole and since everyone walks so damn slowly in this country we soon catch him up and he’s trying to shake everyones hand again. He gets mine and when I force him to let go he says ‘Dont touch me, I’ll F**k you up!!’. Muppet. Eventually everyone realises we need to get away frorm him and backtrack and go down a different street looking for food.

All we could find was the ‘fan man’, which is pretty good. Everybig city in Ghana have guys on bikes with big ice cream boxes attached to the front selling ice cream. They do a great frozen strawberry yogurt one for 3.000 cedis. Very nice when you’re stuck on a stationary bus! I got the round in and we carried on looking for breakfast, and who do we run into again? Mr Arsehole :p Thankfully that was the last we saw of him. We found a little stall and had omlette sandwichs and milo before jumping in taxis for home. It was 7am and already heating up, not that I cared because I had holy AC! I got back to the Guesthouse in time for breakfast, I hope they assumed I had been out for a morning walk, but I doubt it. I ate my brown rolls with jam and jumped into bed as the choir played sweet music in the halls below. They had given the drummer a day off.

tap tap tap….
tap tap tap….

tap tap tap….
oh god, no prizes for guessing who was knocking on my door. I was buggered if
i was getting up or even answering, I was on holiday! There was an outside
chance it was someone from the hotel but I wasn’t going to rick making a
sound. Eventually it stopped and I went back to sleep. I had already bee
woken up twice that morning. It was early and the sun was shining when my fan
went off. I had it tucked under my mosquito net, since even on high it sent
no air through it from the outside. I suspected it was intentional because
shortly later it restarted along with a choir singing nearby. The church was
only 30m from my hut, and although the singing was pleasant, for some reason
someone started drumming along and it sounded like he had to hit every one at
least once every 4 bars. I’ve never heard heavy metal hymns before, but its
not the alarm clock you really need.
She collared me when I got up for brunch, I told her I had my ear plugs in
and she believed me. I sat and read, ignoring her or giving one word answers.
She kept going on about walking to the castle at Dixcove in the next bay or
going to smoke ganja, I refused, then she started asking for a coke, I told
her I didn’t have enough money (which was pretty true) and she relented, god
knows she wasn’t going to pay for it herself! I went for a swim, she waited
on the beach for me (her costume was still festering in a plastic bag in my
room and I didn’t gove her a chance to get it. i stayed in the sea for about
an hour, but she still didn’t leave. I got out to do my laundry, she kept
going on and on about how the hotel would do it for my and I pay them. No
shit… Im quite capable of washing a few clothes, not getting charged a
fortune and not having to wait a whole day to get them back. I really should
have brought more money with me and didn’t want to leave the next day from
lack of funds. I did my laundry, eve washed her bikini at her insistence. She
was very impressed to see me doing women’s work with such skill. I guess she
could already see herself relaxing in England while her rich husband did all
the chores and looked after the babies. Um……
I hung my clothes (and her bikini) outside and sat down to read some more. The
place was dead and it was still the weekend, I was thinking maybe Ghana was a
mistake and where were the people to have fun with? I was stuck in a
beautiful place with a motor mouth pain the arse who wouldn’t take a hint and
leave me alone! I went for another swim to get away, she was still going on
about the castle, ganja and coke. When I got out she was gone, it was late
afternoon now, I went took a shower and had a walk up to the resort for a
look. Nice…. if there were some guests… place was deader than a vultures
dinner. I went for a pancake at ‘Daniel the pancake man’ place by the school.
They had a nice sign by the road encouraging people to come and find it but
it was locked. Someone came over to open it and I wish i had’t bothered. It
was like a empty house with a few tables and chairs. Lord know when the last
time someone had eaten there, it needed some sprucing up. I loved the posters
of huge houses and expensive cars that awaited the faithful, just believe in
god and you can be a millionaire was the general theme. Well, millionaire in
Ghana is easy, just go to the cash point. I got my pancake (no honey,
finished) and hot coffee (I don’t know what I was thinking asking for it
iced…) which was ok, at least the juju girl wouldn’t find me here. I gave
the local boys a quick lesson about what would happen during the eclipse and
erroneously told them there would be no totality in Busua. Too many people
think white men know everything, so Im happy to shatter that illusion. Then
they wanted to know about making a web site. Ok, credit for moving with the
times but no one is going to look at their website and say ‘honey, lets have
our honeymoon in Busua so we can eat at Daniels every night!’. I gave them a
few hints, ie google it and find some free hosting sites but I managed to get
out before offering to do it myself. I wish them all the luck in the world
but I still wonder how they manage their rent each year.
They weren’t the only people having problems with rent. I hid in my room
until 10pm and sneaked out for some food at Nana’s again. He wasn’t a happy
man, it seemed his landlord had raised his rent by 25% that year and only
told him when it was due. Which was 2 weeks ago, and now he was making a
stink about it. I was sensing a scam, what exactly did he want, money? I got
him to explain it again, and it turns out he wants me to talk to his landlord
and ask for a bit more time. That I can do! … um, can I? Barely
understanding the full story he takes me around the corner to speak to some
middle aged guy who wants his cash, 2 weeks ago. Bizarre. I put it to him,
all the facts, appeal to his christian spirit, since after all we’re all men
of god…. right. Still Im obviously well qualified to present his case,
being white and all (!), and he agrees. Nana feels the weight of the word
lift from his shoulders and say Im his best friend. I go to bed with a clear
conscience.
Actually I go to bed thinking ‘what the f**k was that all about??’

early (for me) the next day it was time for the beach. And time for my first
encounter with that legendary Ghanaian mode of transport, the Tro-Tro! Got to
the Tro station, ask a few people where the tro to angona leaves from and get
on board. Its basically a minibus with fold up seats in the aisles of varying
sizes. They leave when they are full or more than full. People use them to
transport themselves and everything all over the country. You wouldn’t want
to be in one in a crash as there is no escape, but if you want to get about
and don’t want to charter taxis everywhere its the only way. Sadly the usual
method of counting if it is full is to get you on board and wait for it to
fill up. No aircon and 40°, not a fun way to spend 20 minutes of your life.
But cheap, even if you’re forced to pay a fare for your bag, but 25p ×2 for a
20km ride is better than waiting more than an hour for the next one so they
can shove you bag under a seat.
A short taxi ride from agona later and I was by the beach. I checked into
Alaska hotel, into a round mud hut type place by the beach and went off to
find the party…. The beach was huge, the hangout area by the beach was busy
from Ghanaians down for the weekend, but after a good wander up and down there
were probably 15 white people in the village. Some party! And the weekend was
the busy time, I really don’t know how half the places could survive. Still,
the beach was a couple of kms long, clean and fine sand, waves good enough
for body surfing, all i needed was a bit of romance… or so I thought!
I sat down to read by the beach, I got harassed by the juice man for 10 mins
until I agreed to purchase his bottle of ‘fresh’ juice (i just caved, it was
too expensive but he was so insistent… and annoying), too much money os
spoiling me on these trips. Ah. peace and quiet, with only the sound of three
frenchmen drinking wine and throwing water at each other. A Ghanaian girl sat
down next to me and we began the usual exchange of name, travel information,
liking ghana, home country, same old same old. After 30 minutes of this she
suggested we go for a walk along the beach. I thought ‘why not, im not doing
anything else important’. She said she was a 23 student on holiday for 3
weeks, studying catering in the nearby city of Takoradi. I wasn’t so sure but
prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt. The place wasn’t exactly
brimming with people to talk to and I was feeling slightly lonely I admit.
However this is normal state of affairs when you travel alone, a few days of
not knowing anyone, trying to make some suitable friends, chatting to people
and never seeing them again, not chatting to some guy on his own and then
seeing him with 2 pretty girls a week later… Quite normal. We walked along
the beach towards the nearby headland, children playing on the sand, local
fishermen repairing nets their boats pulled up out the tide. Again I was
asked if I wanted to smoke ganja, I replied no. This would be a frequent
theme in out conversation. There are 3 reggae bars along that stretch of
coast, and its not easy to guess their main cash crop (especially considering
the cost and quality of the pancake I ordered at the start of typing this. 1
hour later I got 3 tasty pancakes, far too much to manage for breakfast, I
only wanted one, a room temperature banana shake (which also took an hour to
come… or rather an hour to warm up) and since I foolishly didn’t ask for
the cost, a bill for £4!)
We walked over to the Black Mamba restaurant, run by a local guy and a german
woman, didn’t see the woman but the guy was friendly enough. They had a huge
sty full of pigs, chickens and vultures…. Well, I guess the vultures were
free to leave but it was a strange combination of bed fellows. Sitting at
the headland for what I thought was a quick rest and look at the view
produced a menu and offer of refreshment, Angela could hardly contain her
disappointment that the Guinness (the most expensive drink) was finished. She
had to settle for Star beer, and since the water was also finished (!) me
too. We sat and chatted about this and that, while I just wanted to get back
to my book, she said how we would have to go and visit the fort in the next
village together and, alarmingly, how she would love to come north with me
since we both had such long holidays. Obviously Im not used to 23 year old
girls throwing themselves on my generosity so much but I didn’t really fancy
bank rolling this girls holiday. Ok, if she had been stunningly good looking
or not such a motor mouth I might have considered it, but I hadn’t brought
that much cash with me and there was no ATM for 20 miles, so I was in danger
of going broke after a few days myself.
It was late afternoon still and we walked back to the beach and had to visit
her ‘brother’ who just happened to work at one of the reggae bars, and just
happened to be cutting up a huge slab of weed into a plastic bag. I saw this
and then some guy with a uniform showed up, Angela said he was he police, it
was ‘no problem!’, Yeah…. right! Mary Jane is illegal in ghana like most
countries and I set off for a brisk walk back down the beach. Just because
Angela (like Mark before her) tells me that she would never let anything
happen to me is no comfort at all when you’re banged up in some filthy cell.
I suspect that thailand would be luxurious compared to a moderately affluent
african country! I didn’t want to go back to hers to collect her swim suit
but she just happened to have a ‘auntie’ nearby who had one. Damn, I managed
to get some peace since she couldn’t swim by going out into the surf, but she
stayed in the shallows lurking like a hungry shark waiting for me to go back
in.
Sometimes I really hate being English, I suppose an Australian or American
would have told her to ‘f**k off and leave me alone’, but Im too polite so I
decided to revert to the classic tactic of being rude and uncommunicative
until she left me alone. I suspected she wasn’t a student after all,
reinforced by her attempts to get ‘friendly’ in the surf. Not the ’summer
lovin’ I was really looking for! It was interesting to watch the fishermen
bring in the catch of the day by a dozen or so guys pulling in the nets from
500m out in the bay, they ended up with loads of barracuda as the little kids
scrabbled for the tiny discarded fish. Still Angela was telling me to come
here, do that, lets go but I did my best to ignore her. I took a shower after
my swim and then she insisted she get changed in my room. Great. I could
hardly leave her in there with all my stuff lying around, she probably
wouldn’t nick anything but I wasn’t gonna take that risk.
It was awful, I took of my trunks and then she asked if I was ashamed of my
body because I didn’t turn around! I got dressed, had to give her my sarong
to use and then kept asking why I wasn’t looking at her. Because you’re naked
as the day you were born and I don’t want to give you any encouragement? Then
I said I was tired and needed a nap, so did she… was there any escape? ‘Im
tired, I need peace and quiet’, ‘its ok, I just lie here, feel free!’. No
you’re not! I kicked her out, although she left her bikini behind, for the
obvious reason of coming back to get it, even though i put it in her hands
since it was so obvious. I locked my door, closed the windows and crawled
under my mosquito net to watch a film on my PSP. About 2 hours later there
came a tapping at the door, light but insistent, I held my breath and waited.
I was wearing my earphones so she couldn’t hear me, I hoped… I gave it
another half an hour, dressed and ran out to the main road. Hoping she wasn’t
lurking nearby.
I dined in great luxury at Zweite Heimat, home of the legendary Nana, such a
sweet and gentle guy you could’nt hope to meet anywhere else. He prepared me
a lovely fresh barracuda with rice and tomato sauce. I sipped a cold beer and
nodded to the people passing on the street. I was very exposed, it was right
next to the main junction in thu village, Angela could be using her juju
right then to track me down, but she never showed up. I finished my meal,
complemented the chef paid and went to leave. Nana insisted he clean my dirty
hands because of the fish. I told him I only used my cutlery but he insisted,
running off to buy some lemons which he put on my table. So I waited and
waited, he came back and cut one in half, then I waited some more… My hands
weren’t even sticky so I grabbed him, shook his hand and said good night, the
legendary hand wash people had written about all over his walls would have to
wait. I brushed my teeth, locked my door and slipped into a restless uneasy
sleep…

I managed to crawl out of my sweaty room in time for a quick breakfast of
chocolate spread on bread and milo. The woman looked at me like i was mad for
wanting food at 11.30! I had decided to head down the coast, apparently
busua was a backpacker mecca in Ghana, surely there would be parties and
beach volleyball, chicks in bikinis and guitars around the fire. Perfect! I
grabbed a taxi and headed for the STC bus station, after allowing several
people to push in front of me, I shrugged off my stupid british way of
queuing and got a ticket for the 2pm bus to Takoradi. It was 12.30pm, I asked
the helpdesk where the bus left from and the woman said the 12pm bus was just
there and I could get on that one. Result! I climbed on and off we went right
away.
No A/C and I sat right at the front so the view was pretty crap, but at least
I was getting out of boring accra. I could already smell the banana pancakes!
The road was excellent for 2 hours but after that it was being repaired and in
variable condition. People would be selling things at the toll booths and
police check points, hawking pineapples and dead bush animals at the side of
the road. Not much in the way of jungle really, lots of foliage but not the
thick jungle you’d expect in a rainy country like ghana. It was nearly dark
by the time I got to the city of Takoradi, so I got a room, went for a meal
of red-red and read another novel on my phone. Restaurant service was
typically poor, order a drink and a meal and sit there for 15 mins before
going up to get your own drink. The reason, the sprite was finished, so
obviously i didn’t want anything else….
The hotel was a dump, but it was cheap, the batteries on my phone died after
being used all day on the bus and although there was a plug in the room, the
cable to it was inextricably cut. The guy on duty knew all about it and
showed me, quite why they couldn’t be bothered to fix it I’ll never know…