Like those who have been before us have said, “the highs are high and the lows are low”. I am on a “high” right now. My heart is full. The locals greet everyone with such wide smiles and “how are yous”. There is really no such thing as surface conversation here. The people we have met wear their depth on their sleeves. The cab driver (Baba) I flagged down this morning to drive us to the bus stop told me that he, as well as other Ghanian people believe in God, and believe that whatever is given to you in life, whether it be good or bad, it is given to you by God. He went on to tell me about his dreams of being a musician and eventually moving to Canada, where his friend lives in British Columbia (small world). I told him I would help him find a “Canadian God fearing wife”, which he expressed he would like very much. I had another interesting conversation with a Nigerian man on the Cape Coast, about art as a form of expression, and how he came to realize that this was the best way for him not only present the beauty within himself, but to also support himself. When we arrived in Tamale, it was in the evening. Sinbad, Muriel’s adopted African son, introduced us to one of his closest friends, Rafik. Immediately after learning our names he began to ask us “how do you see Ghana so far”, “what is different than you had expected?”. He was very inquisitive and also wanted to let us know that we might be approached differently in Tamale than we are used to. He wanted to warn us, that this is customary, so that we are not offended. I am not sure what this looks like but I’m sure I will soon find out.
The women we have met are very trusting. I have had two babies handed to me on the bus, just for saying they were cute! They literally sat with us for what seemed like a long time. The mothers are just so pleased that we have shown an interest. Even though most can understand us, and most speak English. I have noticed that those who cannot just continue to talk to you anyway. The four of us had gone down the road to this little shack that had been converted to a bar. We just went to get drink of fanta and coke. The man from the bar came out and started talking to us while we were sitting there. He couldn’t speak a word of English. We kept trying to understand him but it was not happening. He just continued to talk to us the entire time we sat there. When we got up to leave he shook our hands and gave us one of those famous Ghanian smiles. God I love it here.!
Four of us went took a taxi into the Kumasi market yesterday. Apparently it is the biggest market in the world. It was absolutely amazing. It was so busy. Narrow little streets lined with little shanties. Everyone was selling something colorful and different. The markets were not at all what I had expected. I guess I had expected something like the fall fair where they sell handmade jewelry and artsy stuff. It wasn’t at all what I expected. Their were rolls of colorful fabrics, steel basins of dried fish, pig legs, rows and rows of sandals, shantys full of pots, shantys full of light sockets and fixtures, there were rows and rows that were literally only meters apart, lining very narrow streets and filled on both sides with basins of fresh vegetables on the ground and set on crates. There were large basins filled with dried beans, rice, corn and flour, there were stands with bags of fresh spices, and tea. There were men pulling full trolleys trying to pass through the thick crowd, which I would have thought impossible, but they just kept pushing through and yelling as they went. We were in a group of four and were seriously risking loosing each other staying there. If you lost sight of the person for a second they were lost in the crowd. Everyone was in a hurry to get somewhere. We were trying to get of the way. Its difficult in large crowds like that here because the women carry so much of their loads on their heads. I was hit in the head with several bags of rice and a wash basin full of vegetables. I absolutely love it though, really what an experience.
I wish I had been able to take pictures at the market though. It was such a rich cultural experience I just wish that I would have been able to capture it. But I have found that the Ghanian people do not like to be photographed without having permission first. I have yet to find out why, it might be a religious belief. I didn’t take my camera cause I didn’t want to risk making any of them angy in such a large group.
We arrived in Tamale today. I washed my first load of clothes in a bucket outside the room we are staying in. I thought of the movie far and away “plunge and scrub, plunge and scrub”. For the most part we have been lucky with accommodation, I have only been bitten by bed bugs twice and we have only went without water once. Which believe me is a lot worse that it sounds. It is just about midnight here and it is 29.5 degrees outside and humid, humid, humid. I sweat buckets! Us whites stick out for miles. I was looking out a cab window yesterday and a boy was yelling at me “white lady, white lady, white lady”. One of the only things that I wasn’t expecting to find when we got here is the poor air quality. There is hardly ever a blue sky. We crossed almost the entire country since we have been here and have seen very little blue sky. The people are constantly burning their garbage. The also burn little bits of land at a time as a way of hunting small rabbits, so throughout the country you see a lot of scorched earth. The air stinks of exhaust and there is always a thick haze in the sky. It is always a light to dark shade of gray. When we arrived in Tamale, we literally could only see about a kilometer a head it was that thick.