1 Ghana: Disorientation of landing

I have no idea what an African village looks like, only some vague, cartoon notions of rows of thatched roof huts set in a barren wilderness.

The reality is I am staying in the solid brick, spacious home of Justus, the Village elder, a dignified, articulate man in his 70s, with quiet, efficient housekeeper and cook, Doris, her beaming 12-year-old son, Clinton, three- year old daughter, Emmanuela with her new gold ear rings, Justus' strapping foster son and protégé, Knowledge, 18, Madventurer crew leader, English Anna and her French boyfriend, Gabriel.

Shia is a remote village on the border of Togo, half an hour’s bumpy drive on a rough track past the town of Ho in Volta region of east Ghana.

The once stately now ramshackle home, which saw its glory days in the 70s, is set on acres of tropical gardens with wandering goats, hens and kittens. The familiar warm damp embrace of heavy humidity and instant glow of sweat, reminds me of home on the sub-tropical Sunshine Coast in Australia, where I lived amid the spiky bougainvillea, purple jacaranda and orange poinciana for 18 years before moving to bustling London.

The afternoon torrential downpour has brought the optimistic outdoor meeting of cocoa farmers to an abrupt end and me to my room to rest after the tiring four-hour journey by tro-tro, a 15-seater bus, shared with local passengers through the lush countryside.

I arrived in the vibrant city of Accra only last night after a pleasant two-movie, indulgent flight on British Airways. Just six hours out of Heathrow and I am suddenly in a beguiling exotic world.

 

Immediately I extravagantly tip £10, the only note I have, an eager young luggage handler for helping me with my massive bags, full of heavy school supplies for the kids in the orphanage. This is equivalent to 30 Cedis, possibly a week’s wages! It’s his lucky day.

I’m relieved to be welcomed by smiling Anna in her bright red Madventurer t-shirt in the airport lounge. She haggles with the cab driver and we make our way to the Pink hostel where I collapse on the bunk, getting my bearings.

Sunday morning we cab it to the Accra marketplace for my first sensual encounter with the colourful profusion of Ghanaian street life; assorted food stalls, coolly confident mammas with babies secure in colourful back slings, elegant ladies juggling massive loads on their heads and fancy young men hustling for business at the sight of two ‘Ye-vo’s’; white people. We wait well over an hour in the stifling tro-tro until it fills with passengers for Ho before setting off.

Our long, cramped journey is a chance to chat with the exuberant Anna, a Yorkshire lass who got bitten by the travel bug very young on a student exchange trip to France and now has an insatiable appetite for travelling and working around the world.

 

Anna volunteered on Madventurer projects in Peru and Ghana and travelled throughout Africa, India and Europe straight out of high school and now lives in Paris, speaking fluent French, working as a nanny and studying at University! What a dynamic young woman! She’s a perfect match with adored boyfriend Gabriel, who is doing his Masters in International Development.

En route Anna and I snack on chunks of fried starchy Yams in sticky tomato sauce, from roadside vendors who come right to our van window. The fat wedges are delicious but I’m guessing not low calorie, the equivalent of western fast food! I undo the button on my trousers! 

When we arrive at Justus’ home, I’m shown to my large room with clean lino floor, double bed and my own bathroom and bucket of water for washing, as the plumbing is not working!

Outside in the cool evening air, refreshed from the downpour, Anna gives me an orientation of the Madventurer philosophy and guidelines and the week’s plans for work in the cocoa plantation.

I chat with little Clinton who is enjoying sitting close to us Ye-Vo’s and I win him over with a present of luxury chocolate bought at the Duty Free. We learn how to write each other’s names and giggle.   

Later with Gabi and Anna, I savour my first traditional meal of Red Red spicy beans and fried plantain followed by exquisitely sweet fresh mango for desert.

By 8 pm I am done-in and retire to my room to read the chapter on the Wanderer archetype in The Hero Within, highlighting the sentence ‘Allow your heart and your curiosity to push you to explore other possibilities.’

The first day in a new country is strange and transitional. My mind is racing with wild thoughts and images as I wrestle with the sheet under the whirring ceiling fan, wondering Who am I? Why am I here? Where am I?

As a drift off to sleep, I trust I will find out tomorrow.