Ghana (1)

We left Evan and Manuel in Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso), but by the time we had collected our Ghanaian visa’s we had also collected another backpacker. Evan (Evo) had travelled through India and Pakistan before flying to Morocco. In Mauritania he had travelled with Campbell and Linnéa and our erstwhile adventures were already well-known to him. We managed the Burkina border in one day’s driving, but reached Ghana after closing time, and couldn’t convince them to let us join the lock in.

We camped outside the immigration office and wandered into Ghana on foot to find some food. Supper was served with a litre of cold beer and a full-on tropical storm. The plastic chairs and tables outside were blown asunder and the raindrops were like ping-pong balls. Soon the street was knee-deep in water and I had to strip to the waist to run across to the bar from the restaurant. As the rain eased the three of us sat out with a beer watching the light show in the sky. There were about three lightning flashes every second and occasionally the whole sky would be torn asunder by half a dozen forks of light.

	We passed through customs the next morning and left Evo in Tamale. It was wonderful to pass through into another country again and to see the people and landscape change around us. The mud huts dried up and were replaced by rusty corrugated roof shantytowns clustered together, and the trees grew taller and the greenery deeper and richer. It was hard to break the habit of speaking French but now finally I felt relieved, as Ghana is an English-speaking country. Even if the first conversation went something like this; BLACK WOMEN “ White man, buy chewing gum” WHITE MAN “Black women, no thank-you”

	In fact, we were now finding it harder to be understood speaking English in Ghana, than speaking French in Mali, and the currency! Eighteen thousand Ciedes to the UK pound?

We passed up on visiting Mole National Park as we have enough of them ruining our lawns back home, and headed to Boebeng-Fiema Monkey Sanctuary. This is a small community-based conservation project protecting Mona and Colobus monkeys (see Conservation Pages for more info).

After which we headed further south through ever increasing forest to Kakum National Park. As we turned off the major highways we started along beautiful rich red roads cutting through the tall green forest walls, although there’s a lot of degradation with some remnant tall trees hinting at a former glory.

We arrived in Kakum after closing time but camped outside the gate until a security guard let us in. Kakum is famous for its tree top canopy walk and we had hoped for the chance to spend some time hanging around in the hope of seeing some birds and monkeys. However the way the walkway is managed it is more of a theme park type experience, quick in, up the trees and out again.

It was possible to take a guide early and we left at 5.30am to be on the walkway at first light but nothing was stirring. We heard a male colobus territorial call that our guide told us was “a big bird” and some Mona monkeys calling but and after two hours we had seen fuck all. Sometimes the monkeys do habituate the canopy walkway, but I got the general vibe that mostly it’s just a big tree fest.

From Kakum we continued south to Cape Coast, famous for slaves and castles. The slave museum in Cape Coast castle was interesting but still I feel it was missing information or explanation of the African involvement in the slave trade.

Much of the human traffic would have been impossible without tribal African cooperation and profiteering, and so in reality, a greater shared responsibility needs to be fostered.

In the museum we encountered a couple of young backpackers. In passing, and merely as a way of starting conversation, I said to one who appeared to be sweating somewhat “hot isn’t it”. I was met with a rather condescending “ this IS Ghana”. We moved on.

Later on our travels we encountered the same backpacker in Wendy’s (aka Big Millie’s backyard) whilst sitting in an open restaurant. The place was buzzing with mozzies and she was sitting scratching her bare legs and shoulders.

I wondered if maybe she had forgotten simply about the time and malaria risk and I offered a small comment again on passing in the hope she may see sense “ Lots of Mozzies tonight”. Again, the same off hand rebuff, “this IS Ghana”. Next morning we were both in the office at Wendy’s and I overheard her telling another backpacker (whilst displaying her scabby legs); “Yeah, like, I had malaria quite bad and now my immunity is knackered”, I offered “ there’s lots of malaria here, this IS Ghana”.

We spent a few nights at Millie’s, on the face of it I thought it was going to be too much of a drop out zone full of doped up dead heads but in fact it was just the relaxing ticket.


					I had a few games of table tennis, but was no match for some of the local lads who gave up on me when the score reached 10-1, but the highlight of Millie’s is definitely the food, first class, and affordable.