Tom Glesne’s Visit to Ghana, 2011
Thursday 10 November 2011
Ghanaian Woman Selling Fish
I’m not sure if I can aptly or precisely explain what it is like here in Africa. Certainly with my southern-rooted general lack of vocabulary, er, okay it may have more to do with my low Vocab SAT scores than my roots, neither a succinct nor grandiose essay will be able to portray what it feels like to be here. For those that have spent time here and have been fully immersed in the community and culture, you will understand what I won’t be able to portray. Many will come to Africa and deal with the taxis, the hotels and take a couple Safari adventures, managed by British or Canadian expats, and while they have seen more of Africa than I have on the quick jaunt, I’m not sure if they have really experienced Africa.
My friends Trey and Jess, traveling across this continent last year for several months certainly experienced a lot of Africa. I immediately wished I had that much time, and yet there is such a strong pervasive sense of culture here that I believe I will receive an education that is not equivalent to the time spent.
Tom and Theo
You see, I essentially came to Ghana for a funeral of a local boy from Mpeasem, near Cape Coast. I have never met him, and unfortunately never will. He was taken by the sea a few days ago while swimming with two of my cousins. My cousin, while having only met Joseph the day before, is held responsibl by the community for the accidental death, as he was the reason that Joseph was on the beach. It was a very unfortunate event, as those of us that brave rip currents know – those that fight the sea generally lose. Nonetheless in the culture of west Africa, families often go into significant debt for the funeral of a family member, as it is believed that the spirit of the deceased makes a determination of whether or not to support the family in future times based on the extravagance and success of the funeral. My cousin ponied up a couple thousand dollars to help pay for the funeral day, even though he was in no way culpable. Thus is the way of the world in much of Africa.
Saturday we will spend the entire day and evening at the funeral. It is critical to the relationship of my cousin and her relationship to the community of Mpeasem near Cape Coast.. She has spent the past ten years funding nearly 100 kids to be able to attend government schools in the area – kids that would have never otherwise had a chance to attend school at all. In many cases, these kids (and their families) would never have had the chance to have one of their own attend school and provide for their family. It is most unfortunate that one of these kids was the one who died. His mother blames my cousin for this happening – we all hope she will be forgiven and recognized that all she does for the entire community. It is a fascinating and potentially frustrating situation. I sincerely hope people will not succumb to the their minds and that their hearts will rule in their judgement of my incredibly giving cousin. But that is in a couple days.
Friday 11 November 2011
Kakum Bridge
Today we started the day with fresh pineapple and nescafé instant coffee. We then drove 20km to a national forest reserve that houses the longest canopy bridge walk (rope swinging bridges) in the world. We were tree top for more than half a mile and then spent an hour walking amongst giant trees and humongous millipedes, learning the use of the various trees. – from shelter to poisons to brushing teeth and curing asthma, many of the potions are in use to this day.
Kofi and Tom Drumming
On 11-11-11 at approximately 11:11am I began a drum lesson from Kofi, one of Ghana’s premier drummers. With our drums right across from each other, I learned how to slap, mute and bass the drum with Kofi, one of Ghana’s best. It would take me 5 lifetimes to learn to play as he does, but it was thrilling. I believe in time I will be able to learn to lead a drum circle on the neath shore!
After lunch of the spiciest tuna salad I have ever had, we trekked to the Elmina Slave castle near Cape Coast. The castle, 529 years old, began as a trading post with Dutch and English sailors. In the late 16th century, it was realized that the most precious commodity was human trade – slavery. The Dutch took over the oceanfront castle and turned the fortress into a slave prison for over 1.2 million human lives over the next three hundred years. 400 women and 600 men were brought into the fortress and jailed on brick floors (the fortress served as a prison for the trade) every three months. Conditions were deplorable, as was the fate for everyone. Some would say the lucky ones died in captivity. It was a very sobering visit.
Needing an ATM for more Cedis ($$), we drove into Cape Coast where the ATM seemed to have a shortage of large bills. $800G came as 80 $10 bills! Feeling ridiculously rich, we headed to the fabric shops where the finest Ghanaian weavers displayed incredible fabrics with every color in the rainbow and then some. I found the most expensive section of course, and will have some new curtains and perhaps a shirt at some point.
Daniel Hanson with Crocodile
We had dinner (and a welcome few beers) at the Hans Botel – a beautiful but simple development with 59 rooms and a bar/restaurant built over a lake filled with 30 crocodiles! Daniel, the owner’s son and a local soccer nut who raised some of the crocs from hatchlings, promised to let me handle Mufasa – the largest of his crocs. I hope to get the chance. Joe, another of Kwesi Hanson’s sons, also lives at the resort and is the
Tom with the Crocodile
community computer guru. He has the only x-box in town and is a computer nut – we had a fantastic time talking PC vs. Apple! He has a young German Shepherd puppy that is a joy to play with. She is named Vickie, but I have no idea where she got that name. The food leaves a lot to be desired in terms of taste, but the ambiance is unreal with hundreds of egrets and weaver birds nesting in the lakeside trees and 30 crocodiles swimming and lounging around. The weaver birds are busy fluttering under their nests (every two square feet in several trees) making repairs from the underside before settling in for the night. A couple of Star beers later, we settle in as well.
Saturday 12 November 2011
Funeral day. We start with instant coffee, tea and oatmeal with blueberries and honey. The energy in the house is a little different than yesterday – we all know somehow that it will be an emotional day and we are saving our energy. Few of us have been to an African funeral and we really don’t know what to expect. We lounge around, read some, write some and wait. If one wants to learn the art of patience, one must live in West Africa. They are in general the most patient people on earth (except when driving!) Patience is part of the rhythm of life here.
Word comes that we should get ready. We are all dressed in funeral cloths – primarily black and red. We are met wordlessly at the gate of the house by two women, one carrying her 1 year old, and we set off on a trek through the community houses – amazingly poor and tiny structures, held together by any means of containment and covered with a patchwork of metal roofing. There is no grass, no manicured trails, no stepping stones. I am acutely aware it is a trek few obronyes (whites) will ever take. We end up at several tents set up in a dirt yard in front of the family house near the home of Joseph, our friend who was the most educated of the family and left us far too soon. We sat in plastic chairs, and waited. And began sweating. We tried to work on our patience training – it seemed to work. But we were still sweating, but it was ok – it is typical of obronyes and we seemed to be welcomed by most. There was a continuous stream of people coming by to shake hands and share a glance. Eyes speak volumes. The casket came with a continuous wail of crying and some shudderingly piercing wailing from some of the family. It was placed in the family house and the funeral began. It was administered in Fanti – the local dialect, and was fantastically difficult to understand but easy to comprehend. We then walked as a community to the burial site and returned to the tents where we drank to rinse the spirits. We were given an opportunity to speak to the family and were then dismissed. It was a relatively short funeral, as many in Ghana can last for two or three days.
Elmina Castle
In the late afternoon, we went to Cape Coast and the slave castle at Elmina. I’ve toured Auschwitz which was horrible and I’m not judging which was worse, but I found it astounding that humans could treat humans this way. I was never a great student of history but I certainly knew a bit about the history of slavery in America. What I wasn’t aware of was the fact that this was a worldwide blight that lasted nearly three hundred years. Over 1.2 million slaves were traded from this one castle alone. Unbelievable.
Walking the streets of Cape Coast was educational as well. Storefronts are mostly a series of stalls that make Tijuana look like Santa Monica Blvd. One exception was “Woodin’s” – full of incredible African fabrics. I found myself wanting a sewing machine – curtains, shirts, pants, laptop covers, maybe some dresses (for friends) and then we went to a seamstress and I realized I would be crazy to sew myself. These people were incredible – they had made nine pieces for my cousin’s granddaughter and were beautiful. I am having some items made and will hopefully get them in December.
When we returned home, Mohammed and John (two of Kathryn’s successful students now employees and WONDERFUL young men) met us at the Hans Cottage Botel – THE place to stay if visiting Cape Coast. We had dinner and drinks, and worked up a sweat playing table tennis with Mohammed and Daniel. It was clear that they had a better sense of relaxation and rhythm – two characteristics that help one excel at the game!
Promise and Innocence came home as well – they are current student brothers staying with Kathryn as they await Promise’s placement at a local school. Again, their patience is incredible. As I returned to my iPad to write, I noticed Promise and Innocence taking quite an interest in the funny little computer I had. I showed the Star Walk outside – predicting the precise point and time that the moon would rise. 10 minutes later they were astounded. They found Jupiter and several stars and were stunned at what they could learn from such an application. They could see it was real, but I imagine it was hard for them to fully comprehend, but they seemed to. Then it was to GarageBand, which is one of the best Apps ever written for the iPad. We recorded a beat, a piano track, and then Innocence laid down a rap track in Fonti and he realized he had a recording studio in his hands. He wants an iPad. No doubt. But it is probably a year’s salary for one. It made me feel embarrassed to be so “rich”. Let’s not even talk about the driving/racing game. Let’s just say that he now holds the top 5 scores on my iPad.
Sunday 13 November 2011
After a simple breakfast and a quick shower I felt the need to practice some of the rhythms that Kofi had taught me on the drum. It soon turned out to be a call for Kofi, Innocence and Promise as they joined me on the porch for a lesson / jam. Mick Fleetwood was right – there is an effortless natural rhythm that oozes from their veins and is translated by magically fast and limber hands into a language like none other. I kept up for the most part as we built up tempo until there was lightning coming from the drums. It seemed like the neighborhood came by to watch. A wonderful way to welcome a new day.
Kwame came by to wash the car (a 2000 4-Runner in dire need of a set of shocks). It is funny that in a world of dust, mud and red dirt roads, everyone washes their cars incessantly. I rode into town with Kwame, as there was a piece of the running board that was broken and we wanted to repair it. We drove to an area of town that seemed to have every sort of maintenance shack you could imagine. Kwame disappeared around the corner with a piece of the car that was plastic, nearly ripped in two and was supposed to be the end cap for the running boards on our old but nice Toyota 4-Runner (a pretty nice vehicle for Ghana country folk). No one that I know of in the states would attempt to fix such a piece – they would have the dealer order a new one for a hundred bucks and pay another fifty to have it installed. I walked around the corner to see what was happening. A young man had several steel tools in a fire, a bellows manned by what may have been his father, and he was melting a piece of steel into the plastic piece on the inside to serve as a patch. He then artfully worked a cherry-hot metal spade across the face of the piece to mend the crack and it looked as good as new. Four minutes, tops. Price? 5 cedi ($3.50). Then to another shop where the piece was riveted to the running board. Another 4 cedi.
After a bit of a friendly discussion about local politics,we headed to the car wash. There is a lot of car washing in Ghana, home of the cleanest 1982 beat-up Toyota Corollas in the world. We parked on a concrete ramp where a kid with a pressure washer appeared out of nowhere, spraying the dirt off the car, spraying the underside clean and spraying the inside of all the doors and windows. Then the washing and spraying again. We move the car to another part of the dirt lot and another kid comes and dries the vehicle, sweeps the inside and wipes the seats dry. Eight Cedi ($6) for a 45 minute job. Kwame is glad I came along, as Kathryn would never believe we were washing the car for 45 minutes. We picked up a tank of propane for the cook stove as well – 10 gallon refill was only 15 Cedi – far cheaper than on Maui.
We came back to the house, through the police checkpoint that marks the entrance to the heavily-forested part of Ghana. In theory it is set up to prevent the raping of the forest of valuable hardwoods, and while it may serve that purpose, the police ostensibly ‘fine’ whomever they want to augment their salary, which is about 2000 Cedi per year ($1500). We had to pass the checkpoint several times a day and were never stopped. We soon left again for Cape Coast to attempt survival at the Sunday market – both from the heat and the incessantly insistent vendors. We were looking for more cloth, to have Mohammed make covers for all my friends with MacBook Pro computers. It is one thing that I think would go over well in it the markets in Accra that are flooded by tourists. Having fronted the cost for a dozen, I am hoping my friends will help Mohammed make some well-deserved and much-needed money for his family. The market was not a tourist market, as there are very few tourists in this region. You’ll have to experience it yourself. Words cannot describe the oppressive heat, the stench, the occasional wonderful smells followed immediately by otherworldly smells. Africa is a cacophony of olfactory impact.
Helen's New Pants
Helen, Kathryn’s granddaughter, has been in Ghana since the end of September. Somewhere along the way she had met Mrs Seiki – an old friend of Kathryn’s and an incredible seamstress and cook. It is often cheaper to have clothes made in Ghana than to buy them off a shelf, and that is also true in many parts of Asia, but the fabrics in Ghana are incredible. We stopped by to see if Helen’s first order was finally ready – 7 of the 9 were ready to try, so there will be a fashion show tonight at the house, as long as we don’t embarrass her by asking too often.
It was getting late in the afternoon and we wanted to catch the egrets and weaver birds returning to the lake for the evening, so we rushed back to Hans Cottage Botel. The birds were flocking in and Daniel found us to ask if we wanted to meet Mufasa. Of course we did! We went through the gate (no waivers required) into the interior, an island in the middle of a lake populated with 30 crocodiles. Daniel went to the edge of the water and whistled, stirring his finger in the water. Suddenly and silently, a shape appeared and rose to meet his hand – a set of razor teeth seemingly smiling – a 24 inch grin. We brought a plate of raw chicken from the kitchen and Mufasa followed us eagerly. What worried me the most is that we were concentrating on the 10 foot crocodile in front of us. Who was watching out for the other 29 in the lake? As Daniel fed Mufasa, he had each of us come and stroke the back of an amazing plank of power. It was the gentlest display of pure strength I have ever witnessed – an amazing animal. I was glad I hadn’t worn my crocodile cowboy boots.
Regina and Tom making Fufu
When we returned home, we found Regina – a local friend of the family, on the back porch pounding boiled kasava root and plantains in a wooden bowl. With the rhythm of a drummer, she pounded with a four-foot stick, folding the sticky dough time and time again until all was mashed together. Then came another round of pounding, with each of us helping as she slowly added water. The result, two hours later, was no mashed fingers and 10 large mounds of spongy dense bread/paste the consistency of cookie dough. We added a spicy chicken-based soup and ate with our fingers. This was fufu – a staple of the west African diet and a specialty for sure. It was an incredible meal, and as we finished the power went out. A battery pack, retirement to the front porch and it became story time. Magical. I had a crush on Regina. So does the rest of Mpeasem.
Monday 14 November 2011
So many things to do before heading to Accra to make our planes. We tried to get in touch with the airlines to delay our trips home – Theo and I are not ready to leave. I did not expect to fall in love with Ghana, but I have. We need to leave by 1 or so to make it to the airport by 9, especially with the errands we need to run. We made another trip to Mrs Seiki, to have measurements taken for my new pants and perhaps a present or two. Helen will bring them back and mail them to me. Mohammed and Helen went to town to find laptop bag fabric, and he began feverishly turning out a couple before we leave. Kwame arrived at 1pm and we packed up and said some goodbyes. They want to know when (not if) we will return.
Kofi with the Maker of Tom's Drum
The drive to Accra could take several hours, so we get on the road and we finally make it to the art center at 5:30pm to pick up my drum. Kofi has made a trip into town, just to make sure the drum he ordered is the drum I get. He meets us there and takes us past dozens of carving stalls. There at “Universal Drums” is my gorgeous drum, selected and tuned by one of Ghana’s professional drummers. I just want to admire it, but they want to jam. We take our seats and soon draw a crowd – me playing a simple bass rhythm and five others taking turns with solos. Kofi is playing my drum – blessing it with his touch. It is the best it will sound for some time, but I am inspired and touched.
With drum in tow, we hit the market before it closes and the siege is on, vendors grabbing at us, begging to make a deal. I ran out of time, money and energy – it was just overwhelming. Sure, I bought a few earrings and such, but I didn’t get a token for everyone. That wasn’t my reason for coming to Africa this time. It was time to eat dinner and head to the airport. I said my thanks and goodbyes to Kathryn, Theo, Helen and Kwame – made it through the airport, very thankful that I had a business class bed for my 23 hour return. Was it really time to come home?
It is nearly insane to go to Africa for 5 days. If I could have changed my flights and kept my job, I would have stayed for a couple of months. As I see it, this trip has been an appetizer for the main meal of Africa I will have some day. I was always a bit afraid of Africa and really had little interest in spending time there. That has changed entirely now. I am entranced by the people, the culture, the attitudes and the treasuring of each and every day. I think I am a changed man.
Mohammed and Kathryn
I hope that I am, that I can retain some of what I learned in a precious few days. I am so proud of my cousin Kathryn and what she has done to improve the lives of many. I once asked my dad to define a successful life and his reply was to be of help to your fellow man. Kathryn is most certainly a success in this light and I will strive even harder to do the same, given this short experience. How lucky and blessed we truly are. I have certainly gained perspective on that fact, but I am also struck by the positive attitude that I saw throughout an incredible array of conditions in my short time. We can all learn something about the world and ourselves with a visit to the real Africa. I encourage it wholeheartedly. Thomas R. Glesne 15 November 2011
