Ghana 1

Written on or about Jan. 25, 2009

I arrived in Ghana about 5 hours ago and already so much as happened. My flight from Frankfurt stopped first in Nigeria, to drop off most of the passengers. I wasn’t aware of the pit stop beforehand, but it gave me a chance to see the landscape in daylight. The runway was surrounded by green – a small paved strip lined with umbrella like trees. The air was thick with very low visibility, as if covered by a fog. As we approached the runway, I saw scattered yellow lights and what appeared to be small fires burning here and there amidst the jungle.

After about an hour to refuel, we continued on a very short flight to Ghana. As we passed through the doorway and out onto the stairs of the aircraft, I was struck with the thick nighttime heat. (I later learned that this week has been a particularly cool one.) I made it through customs, passport control, baggage claim and emerged tentatively from the airport into the eager throngs beyond the airport entrance. There was a din of collective name calling and countless signs, but eventually I saw a white face in the crowd and heard her calling my name. My boss had a taxi waiting for us and as we toured the Accra evening streets, she and I played a bit of Jewish geography and reminisced about Cortelyou Road in Brooklyn. She told me the plan for the weekend and even surprised me with the wonderful gift of a SIM card and minutes! She also told me that one of her friends in the ex-pat community was hosting a party tonight, and that we were welcome to come.

I couldn’t see much at night, but I did notice the ubiquitous construction. On every street there were half built houses – huge ones. Apparently, people here will build homes little by little – the foundation one year, the walls the next. Even on this wealthy side of town (or perhaps especially) this phenomenon was clearly visible. We found my hotel, not far from the airport, and were both impressed by the A/C, cable TV and hot water (which I still think isn’t true…). It’s a simple motel room, but the bed is comfortable and the mosquitoes limited.

Accra has a din, a sound track. You can hear the airplanes as they head to and from the city, and everyone knows the daily flight schedules. Amidst the roar of the engines, someone here can identify “Delta” or “Ethiopian Airlines.” You can easily tell when people are coming to town, or when your friend has arrived from afar. I am not sure if this airplane-identification is an ex-pat pastime, or if the locals also play along. In addition to the airplanes, there is always some sort of music playing; sometimes American rap songs, sometimes West African hits. Apparently, much of the music comes from the Ivory Coast which is known to be a cultural hub for the region.

I rested for half an hour in my room, and then we left for the party. My boss left telling me, very nonchalantly, that she didn’t want to stay long because she had been sick last week and wanted to get rest. She described this in about the same tone and level of concern that someone would use to discuss a cold.
“Sick with what?” I asked.
Malaria and Typhoid.
Oh. Right… She told me they were very treatable (she was cured!) and that she hadn’t missed any work. She’d felt a bit sick, gone to the doctor and taken some medicine. Now she’s fine. Ok… I took a deep breath and tried to match her easygoing approach.

We’re staying in the eastern, wealthy part of the town. The neighborhood where the party was is even wealthier – huge mansions surrounded by high fences. We hopped in a cab that costs a dollar or two to get almost anywhere, and arrived at a dead end street. The house had a gate and several guards standing out front. Inside the huge home were marble floors, art on the walls, large, open rooms. Not your typical bachelor pad, but the inhabitant is a young European making a killing here in Ghana. Not sure what business… There was catered food – meatballs, potato salad, kebabs grilled up fresh all night. There was a table cluttered with various juices, wine and liquors – and a large bin of sangria. Around midnight, a DJ arrived, and rumor had it that later on there would be a band and yes, prostitutes or at least some “questionable” local women. People ran in and out of the swimming pool, jumping with fanfare and splashing the other guests.

It was a curious party – part high school house party, part college-drinking binge until you noticed the crowd. Despite all the hired help, it had a very casual, young feel. But the guests were all in their twenties and thirties, and only a few were drinking in excess. Mostly, people chatted in small groups, mingling and flirting. The crowd was filled with young singles, brought to Ghana by the hope of adventure, or charity, world-changing, money-making and more. The culture had an impulsive feel to it, as if Ghana for ex-pats is a place where actions have few consequences and love lasts only one night.

There were Europeans, Americans, Australians, Senegalese, Ivorians. Here, in one yard, was a collection of people who shared only their foreigness, if not their values. There were World Bank employees, mingling with staff from several NGOs. There were a lot of people working in shipping, and others making big cash in short term stints in Africa working for foreign companies. Ghana has one of the strongest markets in the world, and the country just recently found oil. It’s the hub of West Africa for foreign diplomats and there are endless ways to take advantage of its resources and potential for the foreign entrepreneur. I spent the night speaking in French, happy that I had not totally forgotten the language although each time I wanted to say the French word for “but,” I said it in Hebrew. I made a few friends, got invited to go to the beach today and for a moment felt sad that I didn’t have more time to spend in Accra with my new ex-pat community.

I introduced myself as being from Israel, mostly because I hope that if people enjoy my company, maybe they will improve in some small way how they think about the country. There are about 60 Israelis living in Accra and most of the people at this party had not met very many. (One guy told me proudly that he once knew some Jewish people in France who had moved to Israel.) People asked me a lot about the war and the Americans were curious about the upcoming elections. People listened and I didn’t feel attacked, but clearly the sentiment was against the recent events in Gaza. One man described to me in detail the length that his shipping company goes to ensure that their boats and cargo never go to an Israeli port. He told me they will travel all through the Mediterranean, with the sole exception of Israel.

Around 1AM (GMT), we headed home, although the party was going strong. The night air was blanketed with sand from the Sahara; apparently the air here will remain dry, dusty and hazy until the rains of late March wash it away.