Ghana 5

First of all, the frogs in my house are getting a touch out of control, but I am determined to complain less in this blog. I worry that in highlighting the more extraordinary aspects of my Ghana experience, I may be giving off the impression that life here is far more challenging, or less enjoyable, than it actually is.

So I will get the “bad stuff” out of the way in one paragraph - and it will be vivid! - before moving on to the more glorious aspects of my journey and life here in sub-Saharan Africa.

The frogs continue to be a problem. I see at least two a day, and it’s the suddenness of their appearance that makes me jump. I will creep to the bathroom in the middle of the night, carefully eyeing around corners for a small ribbeting intruder, and just when I think I’m clear… I will sit comfortably on my ivory throne and … hop! yet another frog will join me in the most private of moments.

But I have other tormentors as well. Last night it was a dead cockroach, a few spiders and a large slimy millipede slithering under my table. Two nights ago, in Accra, I was tormented by a single ravished mosquito. Finally, in the dark of the night, I turned on the lights determined to overcome my tormentor. When I finally smacked him, he released a shocking amount of blood, and I returned to the most satisfied state of slumber that I have experienced in a while.

It’s hard to believe I’ve spent so much time traveling, living in nasty youth hostels and sleeping in the wilderness, isn’t it? How have I never identified my fear of bugs, my jumpiness over them, until now? It’s a mystery.


That’s all the gore for today. I am back in Osino after a weekend of utter relaxation and self-care in Accra. I hadn’t been feeling great, but I returned to work this afternoon. My colleagues at the bank greeted me joyfully. However, when I told them that I had spent the weekend in bed, they were unanimously convinced that I was referring to less-pure and more enjoyable things than food poisoning. I explained to them that my boyfriend was back in Israel, but they laughed and nodded as if they were “in on” a secret. A few minutes later, another co-worker asked me if I’d been sure to “treat my boyfriend right and show him the best time in Ghana.” I am amused and somewhat shocked by the blatant sexual discussions at work. There were some more graphic remarks as well which I will pass on writing about.

Ori and I did have an unforgettable, wonderful week. He arrived on Friday evening. We were famished so I whisked him to a “great salad place,” something you can only get in the capital city of Ghana. Having just arrived from Israel, he was far less impressed with the meal than I was. We journeyed through the city, starting at Independence Square. It is a huge empty parade ground marked by a boxy-looking arc-de-triomphe with a huge black star in the center. The square looks over the ocean so we wandered from there to the beach. We saw young teenagers playing soccer and adults and children dancing and drumming along the boardwalk. Locals were swimming, but we were too disgusted by the sewage flowing toward the ocean to want to dive in.

We went out for a fancy Valentine’s Day dinner at a South African place called el Goucho. Ori ordered crocodile tail. It sort of tasted like a cross between chicken and fish. We also had the most amazing frogs legs. Really. Incredible. Which is actually why I think that the frogs in Osino are tormenting me so much. Guilt. Payback. It’s rough.

The next morning we headed north to the Volta Region and to visit the Wli Water Falls near the border with Togo. At the Accra bus station, we were grateful to find a new, air-conditioned tro-tro van headed our way. Still, we had to wait over an hour for it to fill up, and the entire time a loudspeaker screamed from its roof announcing the destination. My head was pounding before we even began the 4-5 hour journey. Once we arrived in the town of Hohoe, we still had to take a 40 minute van ride on a dirt road to arrive to the town of Wli.

But it was worth it!

In Wli, there is a paradise-like inn owned by a German couple. The couple, in their 50s, had set out about 10 years ago to drive from Germany to South Africa. Along the way, they had fallen in love with Wli, bought some land and are now running a clean, efficient get-away overlooking the largest waterfalls (arguably) in West Africa.

We could order simple, delicious food from their menu, but our orders had to be in by the afternoon. We would receive specific meal times: soup at 6:50 if dinner was at 7. We asked once for a 10 minute pause before our dessert. The Ghanaian waiter look slightly frightened, shook his head and said no. Then he said…maybe 2 minutes. It was clear that the Germans were running a tight ship.

The spot was spectacular. There was lush jungle foliage, pineapples, bananas and "pawpaw" (papaya) growing on the property. Chickens and small goats wandered by, and the innkeepers kept a parrot as well. One of the trees would shed white snow-like fuzz in the wind and blanket the skies with beautiful flurries that glinted in the sun. We didn’t want to ever leave.

I felt a bit sick on Saturday night, but we managed to hike about 2 hours up to the falls on Sunday. It was a spectacular hike, with animals, insects, plants and hundreds of butterflies providing endless entertainment along the way.

At the base of the hike some wood sculptors were selling their wares to the tourist crowd. In addition to the traditional statues depicting lovers, masks and animals, there was also a huge collection of large wooden penises. Each sculptor told us the same thing: For AIDS demonstrations. I was tempted to buy one for my father – who is a urologist.

We left Wli on Monday morning and were sad to leave. Ori was feeling sick and had a fever so the long journey to my village was torture for him. We finally made it in the afternoon and he relaxed at home while I headed off to the bank.

During the course of the week, Ori had a great time interacting and meeting with villagers. He always had a camera in hand, so children would surround him, eager to have their picture taken and then to see the image on the digital screen. Around 2pm, when school lets out, throngs of children in their matching uniforms would literally follow us down the streets. I would glance back at Ori and laugh – he looked like the Pied Piper or the character in West Side Story leading the Jets gang through a New York City alley.

While I was working in various bank branches, Ori made plenty of friends around the village. He spent one whole afternoon talking with a storekeeper about politics, music, religion and the role of women.

Ghanaians are proud to describe themselves as “very curious” – to the point of being slightly nosy – but it makes for great conversation. This, and the impression I have that no one is ever in a rush, means that it is easy to find yourself in long conversations with people about all sorts of issues. I am often impressed by how much they know about Israel – Hamas, Netanyahu and Livni are well known names to many people I have spoken with. I also enjoy the ease with which I can ask people questions about race and their perception of whites, Africa or the “western world.”

My neighbor and I have discussed how Ghana has so much going for it – a port, natural resources including gold, oil, and some diamonds. There is plenty of water and fertile ground. There’s democracy, peace and a literate population. He lamented that in spite of all these great things, Ghana is still not living up to its potential. Why, he asked, (as I have as well) are so many people in Ghana living without running water, electricity, and roads? Why is malaria so rampant?

Last weekend I was resting in Accra for three days, worried I had caught malaria. My upset stomach and total loss of appetite were not eased by the fact that both water and power were turned off all day on Saturday. My friend explained that this is fairly normal. The political parties control the water/power and they ration it regularly. Before the elections that were held a few months ago, there was constant power and water. People had hoped that with the new government, there would be fewer outages, but apparently that is not to be the case. I couldn’t help but think that despite the unbearable heat and our being forced to flush the toilet with buckets of water, the “rationing” was an environmental blessing. I tried to imagine New York City having similar blackouts on a weekly basis.



Holy crap. Just now. I mean, really, just now, as I am sitting here writing this, one of the agents I work with came running into the room crying. What’s wrong? I asked. Through her tears she managed to tell me there had been an accident. “Go and see,” she said, which is apparently what everyone in town does when such a thing happens. All of Osino is now gathered along the roadside staring at the scene of the accident. It took me a while to figure out what had happened but people kept pointing at an object in the road and saying, “the leg! the flesh!” and I finally realized that the amorphous brown and red object in the road was part of a man’s leg.

Now, about 20 minutes into this tragedy, there are no police, and no ambulance. And no one knows anything; the community is just standing along the street crying and shouting as traffic buzzes by in the rain occasionally mowing over the severed body parts.

Here is the story that I have so far. A bus was heading south going about 60 miles an hour and hit a private passenger car. The body parts belong to a passenger from that car. The bus drove off, very fast. Oh! Sirens! Just now. Anyway…that is all I know. Ill be back. The police just arrived. I also saw an ambulance and a hearse. The crumpled remnants of a car door are lying by the road side. No one knows how the man is. No one knows if he is alive. But the saga continues, everyone is watching. Waiting.