7 Accra: Finding Oneself Travelling Solo

In just one week I am already savouring independence, trying new skills, making decisions without consulting a husband, packing bags my own way and managing my own mental and emotional state without the indulgence of daily venting to a confidante.

Travelling solo confirms my belief that co-dependent twosomes need to venture out as individuals in order to develop. In a long-term marriage your thoughts and feelings and needs and habits get so tangled up, like those football boots in the market stall! An enmeshed couple definitely benefits from an unravelling so you can experience yourself with clear boundaries.

Ironically a strong sense of self is the means to passion. You can only truly desire someone from a distance as a well-formed individual. You can only accept, respect, appreciate and admire your partner when you see him/her as unique and separate, not as some fantasy figure to simply meet all your emotional needs. You learn emotional self-sufficiency with maturity and travel can certainly mature a person.

I say goodbye to Justus with a traditional handshake and say “Ak Pay Ka-Ka-Ka-Ka.” (Thank you very, very much) and I promise to seek plumbers and investors in the UK.

Knowledge and Clinton carry my heavy bags on their backs flanked by Gabi and dancing Emmanuela as we set off to find the tro-tro to Ho but an enterprising young chap offers us a super-charged taxi ride instead.

We are zooming along at high speed in an old bomb of a rust bucket protected by a plastic orange lobster and crab and a large crucifix fixed to the scorched dashboard.

I am cheerfully sandwiched between four men with all the windows down, my wet hair is flying in the breeze and scenes of busy villagers flash past through the cracked windscreen. “This is the life,” says Gabi in his lilting French accent and I have to agree.

We arrive in Ho in record time and Gabi finds us a luxury red tro-tro for 15 passengers, three across five bench seats, with air-conditioning and Reggae-Gospel music. We set off around 9.30 am and I am dreaming of Shia and, recalling the joy of my kids growing up, I can’t help imagine how the village kids would delight in a community swimming pool.

But then I realise the cultural impact; every benefit brings a problem such as the risk of accidents, the need for supervision and maintenance Some jobs for locals? But who would pay? The council or would there be a small charge? Of course the village parents could not afford it. I feel sad.

There are so many photo opportunities along the way of bizarre signage and broken-down dwellings and thatched-roof huts in poor roadside villages but however humble these are their homes and I don’t want to be a rude, supercilious voyeuristic tourist so I keep my camera in my bag.

It is a long, tiring trip capped off by some corny, maudlin country music that has the power to plunge me into melancholy (perhaps it was the song about the guy who committed suicide?) and we finally arrive in the thick city traffic of Accra around 1 pm and immediately get a cab to the Pink Hostel to connect with Anna.

We all have lunch and a beer and I would truly love to just settled into the internet lounge and plug into the free Wi Fi but my promise to Clintion, Emmanuela and Doris must be fulfilled so I head out in a cab in search of the Mall but the driver takes me to a Supermarket instead so I catch another cab and finally end of at the very plush air-conditioned Mall for well-heeled city workers. But I buy the price for convenience.

I buy the little girl some pretty sandals, a set of three t-shirts and shorts. I find a department store and buy Clintion a bright red Manchester United football. I could have bought a standard black and white one much cheaper but how could I not complete the impressive kit that will surely make him a legend amongst the other boys?

I gulp as I pay a lot more than I would at a market stall but I really cannot face another trip to a market after yesterday’s ordeal! So I fork out the loot and also buy Emmanuela a plastic ball so she can join in the fun. It’s a done deal! I have completed my transaction with my little friend Clintion. Anna and Gabi will take the treasures back to Shia tomorrow when I head to the coast for the next project.

Tonight Gabi and Anna and new recruit Kelly and British traveller Vicky and me find a spacious restaurant called the Baku and we chow down on some gigantic serves of extra spicy traditional foods and I opt for a real chilled coconut and savour the re-hydrating water. It is a balmy evening in downtown Accra and the lads are frisky on the streets, the frogs are croaking and the stars are bright when we grab a taxi back to the hostel to the internet lounge to chill.