Saturday, June 30, 2012

8 Coast of Ghana: The Road to Ada Foah


My luck has run out. Of all the times to suffer an attack of diarrhoea; in a crowded tro tro roaring along a highway in torrential rain.

Elizabeth pleads with the driver to stop and he argues furiously. Finally he concedes and pulls over at a deserted service station. Deep, muddy puddles surround the dilapidated toilet. An obliging adolescent registered my distress and throws down a plank and I wade through the slush, like a novice circus performer.

Back in the tro tro, saturated but relieved, I pray the imodione kicks in and wonder, pointlessly, what I ate or drank to cause my embarrassing predicament.

Earlier I had rendezvoused with pretty Elizabeth, brown as a berry, the crew leader of the Asi-Daahey and Maranatha schools and hospital projects at coastal Ada Foah in the Dangme East District, where she has been impressively in charge since February, ushering in waves of anxious volunteers. Originally from Carlisle, she’s equipped with a Masters in International Development and Education and at just 23 had already done the hard yards in Tanzania, Kenya and other parts of Ghana.

Like a confident mother hen, Liz gathered together the dazed, culture shocked new recruits; Susie, a speech therapy student from Manchester, Beth, a charity worker from South London, Flavia, a trust manager from Jersey and me, an Aussie journalist now living in Ealing, for a comprehensive, if not mildly daunting, induction.

We convened in the beer garden of the Paloma Hotel and Elizabeth eloquently outlined our roles, the health and safety issues, the rules, the local customs, the natural environment and the cast of characters we would encounter.

Seeking a much-needed vitamin fix, I ordered fresh carrot juice chased by fresh orange juice. Perhaps the kitchen staff added tap water? Elizabeth gave us a caste-iron guarantee that we would get sick if we foolishly drank the water straight up. Plastic sachets were the only safe option.

We were joined for lunch by four amusing girls, brimming with humorous anecdotes from their first week at the projects; Hannah, a biomedical student at Newcastle Uni, and Susie’s friends; Jess, Alix and Charlotte, all speech therapy students from Manchester. Keen for a break from spicy food, we shared a veggie pizza, confident that appetising treat would be a safe food choice!

But the instant I sat in the tightly-packed tro tro, as it filled with passengers including a silent girl with a container of snails on her lap and her mother nursing a metal head dish of yams, I knew something was wrong as I feel all queasy.

But after the bizarre toilet stop, catastrophe is averted! My stomach has stopped churning, the rain has vanished, the sun has broken through the storm clouds, my clothes have dried out and all is well on the road to Ada Foah.

When we arrive in the red dirt top end of town, the cool dudes are out in force, swaggering near their shiny motor bikes; an impromptu welcoming committee for the intriguing procession of fair skinned girls in their shorts and flip flops.

The attractive, fresh-faced girls receive countless proposals on a daily basis and the locals are shocked to know they are not already married with several babies in tow! Their single status is a social disgrace the cheeky lads offer to immediate rectify! The motorbike boys give me the once-over and fortunately I now have the title of ‘Mama’ so I’m in no danger of random marriage proposals!  

Us wide-eyed new recruits enter the the cluttered rooms of the MAD House, which is indeed extremely basic, no-frills accommodation and the volunteers have not wasted time on housework! I resist the urge to play Mum and start tidying up. Instead I make a cup of tea. What else would any self-respecting Aussie-Brit do!

I am rather chuffed that I can figure out how to hang up my mosquito net over my bottom bunk bed without any help and I claim a section of gritty concrete floor space for my gear. Over-flowing bags, tangled clothes and assorted girls’ stuff are strewn everywhere. Just like camping!

I meet a few of the village children who have popped in for a visit. Showing them some photos of my family, my trusty little laptop is fast-fading laptop and I panic, imagining my essential work tool going kaput, then realise it just needs charging!

We venture out for dinner (more rice) at The Brightest Spot. Lounging outside at a long table in the cool dark night, with the African version of Big Brother playing on an overhead screen in the distance, the girls swap entertaining stories and laughs as we watch a group of cute kittens play in the garden, flipping and leaping and wrestling.

So I have arrived at Ada Foah and a new adventure begins. I’m off to bed under my mossie net. Sweet dreams. 

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