Two years goes quickly. It
feels like only yesterday that Hannah and I landed at Kotoka airport in Accra,
late in the night, wondering what life in Ghana would be like.
It wasn’t yesterday, of
course; yesterday I was sipping a coffee in a trendy Berlin café, just around
the corner from our new flat. The summer air was crisp compared to
Accra’s humid cloak; the pavement consisted of neatly arranged slabs, rather than an open sewer; the waitress came straight over to serve me, without having to be prodded awake first.
Accra’s humid cloak; the pavement consisted of neatly arranged slabs, rather than an open sewer; the waitress came straight over to serve me, without having to be prodded awake first.
And yet I was missing
Ghana. Berlin seems too calm, too organised. I miss the chaos: hawkers coming up to sell bead necklaces and phone credit; goats eating plastic bags and chickens
pecking for seeds; the constant sounds of car horns and music; children playing
in the streets; everyone smiling, whatever they’re doing.
Ghana was a wonderful home
for two years. We visited a lot of the country – the geography geek in me was
pleased that we spent time in all ten of Ghana’s regions – and were rewarded
with some truly memorable experiences.
One highlight was Mole
National Park, which compensates for its lack of big cats or migrating herds by
getting visitors up close to its elephants. If you’ve never watched elephants
mix up a mud bath before coating skin or playing together in a water hole, or had
one look you directly in the eye from just a few metres away, then it’s worth
visiting Ghana for this alone.
The bird walk and
afternoon game drives were also rewarding. Our guides always managed to spot
something special: a roan antelope through the dense bush or a colourful fruit
pigeon hidden in the higher branches. Mole has plans to develop a luxury lodge,
and the road from Tamale is being improved. Hopefully the park will maintain
its understated charm despite these new developments.
Ghana’s main attraction is
its tropical beaches. We explored much of the coast, from Beyin near the Cote D’Ivoire border to Keta Lagoon in the southeast. My favourite place was Green Turtle Lodge, a backpacker resort near Akwidaa – the perfect place to lie back
in a hammock, drink beer with other travellers and wish you had thought of
writing ‘The Beach’ first. Hannah’s pick was the more upmarket Fanta’s Folly near Butre, where the eponymous Nigerian owner serves delicious food flavoured
with herbs picked from her husband’s garden. We also saw our one and only
turtle in Ghana here. Closer to Accra, Till’s No.1 resort provided a quick
weekend getaway from city life.
One of my motivations for
moving to Ghana was to see the lesser-known parts of a country, something not
always possible with shorter visits. The main outlet for this was the Ghana
Mountaineers, a group of like-minded hikers gathered from across the world in
Accra. We climbed Ghana's highest peak; we camped out under a full moon on Verandah Mountain; we completed
Ghana’s own three peaks, Krobo, Iogaga and Osoduku; and we beat our own tracks
through the hills of the Volta Region and beyond, literally in places:
while many people visit Boti Falls, very few hack their way up the river to do it, battling snakes (OK, one sleeping snake), storms and the jungle on the
route. Ghana has huge potential as a hiking destination; nothing too high or
challenging, but fantastic views and a good infrastructure to get around easily.
If Ghana is easy to fall
for, Accra takes a little longer to love. It’s a fast-developing city, with
high-rise buildings going up on every spare corner of land, clearing the last
few green spaces and trees as they go. Half-built concrete shells dominate the
city’s skyline and as flats, hotels, offices and shopping malls come to life.
Many of these changed little in two years, as the developers’ money runs out or
they become mired in land disputes. Painted warnings claiming ‘land not for
sale’ are a common sight, and anyone passing through Cantoments will see the
red warnings on land: ‘Property of E.B. Tibboh – keep off’, although he never
seemed to actually build anything.
Next to our flat in East
Legon, an entire block of flats was constructed from scratch during our stay.
As the bright orange outer panels coloured our neighbourhood and the vast satellite
dishes were screwed on, the family living across the road sold simple meals of
fufu and sauce to workers from the nearby repair yard and farms from their
ramshackle wooden hut. The children, who worked there late into the night, sold
me beer and tomato puree, insisting that I returned the bottles so they could
get their deposits back. Every few pesawas counts for Accra’s poorer residents.
And their simple business was a step up from those found in the poorest
quarters, such as Jamestown.
Life in Accra had its
moments, though. We enjoyed some fantastic food (none of it Ghanaian) in the
capital’s many restaurants; I played football with former Ghana internationals at
the British High Commission, and we watched the local derby, Hearts of Oak v Asante Kotoka, in the impressive national stadium; Hannah taught a former
president’s grandson at Ghana International School; and on an unforgettable
night at +233 jazz club, we joined our Canadian friends Andrew and Christie as part
of a mass dance routine without being laughed off the floor by the more supple
and rhythmic locals.
We also experienced an
African election. After the build up, which saw the unexpected and widely
mourned death of the president John Atta Mills, I had anticipated … what?
Street riots? Tribal warfare? Perceptions of African democracy are probably
tainted by those that make the news in the UK. But in the event, it was extremely
quiet and democratic; there was more tension in the city during the two African Cup of Nations, in both of which Ghana made the semis. And lost.
There are many more
memories: the primary school on Kpala island in Lake Volta powered by the
playground roundabout; visiting the rice farmers in the Volta Region and
hearing about the complexities of land acquisitions; experiencing the shrines and rituals of northern Ghana. Two years was long enough to enjoy the
good things about the country, and we are leaving before the typically
insignificant and indulgent expat frustrations – power cuts, heat stroke,
traffic, bewilderment about the Ghanaian way of doing things –led to an even more
unhealthy amount of Gulder beer being consumed.
Hannah and I are both certain that we will return to Ghana, to visit friends, return to Mole and laze on the beach. But for now, as with half of the dishes listed on any Ghanaian menu … please, it is finished.
Hannah and I are both certain that we will return to Ghana, to visit friends, return to Mole and laze on the beach. But for now, as with half of the dishes listed on any Ghanaian menu … please, it is finished.