northern adventures

very late and very long. brace yourselves.
Dated: 17/2/09

I mentioned the escapade up North, now more details.

We went to Kumasi Friday (6/2/09) morning with the ISEP group. Unfortunately we didn’t get to see much more than a couple highlighted tourist spots; the King’s Palace and the Cultural Center. However we did visit a Kente Weaving village and were able to make our own Kente cloth. I stamped mine with symbols meaning “Child of God” and “Service and Humilty”. It was so fun to bargain with the men. It can get stressful being followed around and having necklaces and bags thrown over your arms. But if you stay positive and look at it as a chance to have a conversation with someone new it’s a really fun experience.

From Kumasi a small group of us split off and continued to travel up North. We were headed toward Mole (mole-AY) National Park and the Wicheau Hippo Sanctuary, with some stops along the way. On the bus ride from Kumasi to a town called Tamale (TOM-alay) I sat by the most adorable, inspiring man. His name sounded like Shamps, but I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to spell it, and he runs a secondary school in Tamale. Along with being a husband, father of 3 kids, and manager of the school, he also is head of a foundation that funds different micro-credit projects, orphanages, and women’s education programs throughout Tamale. On the side, he is so passionate about women’s rights. As a Muslim, nothing pains him more than knowing that there are men that interpret the Qur’an to say that women do not deserve to be equal. He says there are so many situations in Ghana where women are abused or oppressed because a man in their life believes that it is ok and they have no way out because education has been refused them since they were young. He travels around the area speaking to different groups promoting women’s right to equality and education. He said his wife is his best friend and he would want it no other way, he can’t imagine ever trying to hold her back. He was just so in to everything he was talking about. I admired his dedication and passion so much. He then proceeded to suggest places for us to stay, call for availability and reservations, and have his driver pick us up at the bus station and again at 4:30 in the morning. I loved it.

That night in Tamale was one of my favorite nights in Ghana so far. It was so peaceful being with a small group of people, relaxing at the patio restaurant, talking about why we’re here in Africa.

We got up bright and early the next morning to head to Larabanga (Lar-uh-BONG-guh). The city before sunrise is such a peaceful time. There are people everywhere preparing for the day but the city hasn’t come alive yet. It was the only time I’ve walked down a street of a city that size without being prodded and pulled and bumped back and forth.

Getting in to Larabanga was so refreshing. It is a small village about 6km outside of Mole. It was so nice to get away from the haphazard development and modernization The Greater Accra region boasts. However, Larabanga is known for their sly arena of “professional friend-ing”. In short, someone will pretend to be something they are not, gaining your trust and at times sympathy, welcome you in, feed you, tell you stories, be exactly what every Oburuni is looking for, and then steal from you in one way or another. This tends to push people away from claiming Larabanga as the highlight of a trek through the North. I was fascinated by it though. And it’s not that I don’t blame them, what they do is wrong, but they have to have a reason. There has to be something at some point in time that drove them to that or made them believe that it was ok. It would be so enlightening to become a part of that village. To stay there, be there. To not just pass through with my backpack and billfold. To see what they’re thinking or experience the village’s reaction to the hoards of tourists that pour through their town. There was a stark difference between Larabanga and Wicheau, the village we pass through en-route to the Hippo Sanctuary. In Wicheau we were welcomed with smiles and waves and screaming children. We learned games and took pictures and walked around with out any solicitations. But here is the difference. Wicheau is part of the community non-profit that is the Hippo Sanctuary. Money from the sanctuary has ensured that each village within its perimeter has a bore-hole (water well), the roads are paved in this remote area, and dozens of people are provided employment within the sanctuary. The people in this village directly experience the benefits of the Hippo Sanctuary; they have water because of it. In Larabanga there is no sign of that same reciprocity.

We did catch glimpses of the genuineness of Larabanga. We stayed for a night at the Salia Brothers Guest House, where you have the opportunity to sleep in a small room with simple beds or, as we chose to do, sleep on the roof of the mud huts. The rickety “ladder” we hobbled up made way to a breathtaking view of the city. We piled mattresses together and then went for a hike. We walked within the village too see women preparing dinner and grinding cocoa butter, men lounging outside of shops, and naked children getting baths and playing games. That night under the stars was glorious! A few of us checked out the drumming and chanting we heard a couple roads down to find a funeral ceremony in full swing. The dancing would take place every night for 6 nights and then the 7th night the entire village would take part in an all night celebration that is said to be a very spiritual and intense experience. The next morning I got up at sunrise to watch the women carry water in for the day and the children start off for school. It was a blessing to see the inner-workings of the city.

We caught a tro-tro (and by tro-tro, this time a I mean we piled in to the back of a pick-up truck) and jostled our way up and down dusty hills and roads. Quite the experience. After the experience I described in Wicheau, we arrived in the Hippo Sanctuary that evening. Quickly gave ourselves bucket showers (with a couple mice, some bugs, and other things I’d rather not know about) then climbed in to our tree fort for the night and once again, slept under the stars and feasted on our supper of bread and tomato paste.

We woke up the next morning to canoe down the Black Volta along the border of Burkina Faso with the Hippos. Yes, it was as amazing as it sounds. Then Natalie and I relaxed in the tree fort and talked about the beauty of the villages and the purity of the happiness we saw in the people that lived there. What I would give to spend time with these people and live like they do.

We caught a tro-tro (again, the bed of a pick-up truck but this time packed with 16 people) back to Wa, waited 5 hours on a bus that was supposed to leave 5 hours prior, and then an overnight bus back to Accra. We had had enough traveling for a while and it felt so refreshing to be back in Legon and at the comfort of ISH.

This is way too long for anyone’s good, so if you’ve made it this far – thank you. I’ll give you a break though until the happenings of my trip this weekend, so for now…

all my love