A walkabout

My first impression of Accra was misleading, since I was confined to my office and the dirt roads of the residential suburb of Teshie Estates. My wanderings last week were mainly to Cantonments Road, also known as Oxford Street, full of restaurants and businesses (I haven’t run into any malls yet) and obrunis. My wanderings on Saturday took me through the administrative areas—ministries, government buildings, businesses and organizations operating out of large houses. Tree-lined streets. The makings of a former colonial district if ever I saw one. From there, Adabraka became like Osu’s side streets. The roads were all paved and there were traffic lights (obeyed). I walked up to Circle, did a short stint at Busy Internet, the Internet place to be (free wireless!) and then walked down Ring Road all the way back to Osu. I treated myself to ice cream along the way and just barely managed to drag myself the rest of the way home. I probably walked a total of 3.5 hours, which is a lot in the sun and humidity.

Sunday stroll

Today I decided it was about time that I see the ocean up close and personal. Taking the most direct route, it only takes about five minutes to get to the beach, though this portion is not particularly pleasant—loads of trash. On the way, I passed by a woman who called hello to me and addressed me as Akosua. This is the name that girls born on Sunday are given, which just happens to be me! Whenever I hear someone call me that, I am surprised—how did they know I was Akosua?! I think they call me other things nearly as much, it just doesn’t register as much!

I continued on my way and her nephew Abraham caught up to me and wanted to walk with me. I decided it couldn’t hurt anything, since his aunt had been so nice and knew that walking with someone would prevent others from attempting to bother me. He and his younger siblings are staying with his aunt because his mother is working in Germany (and recently married a German). He’s 21 and studying to be a mechanic.

As we approached Osu Castle, I saw something up ahead on the beach that made me stop.

Is that a dead body?!

Abraham looked to where I motioned and confirmed that it was.

I couldn’t help but look again; the stomach was bloated, arms and legs stuck straight out, stiff. The skin looked white, but that’s only because the black part had been eaten away by the fish.

My mind flashed to the tsunami.

If ever I thought I could do humanitarian aid work following natural disasters, I think I was sorely mistaken. I don’t have the stomach or heart for it.

And I will not be doing any swimming.

Circus

When we got to the other side of the castle, there were crowds of people playing in the surf. There was a group of young men and boys doing gymnastics, the caterpillar, and break dance moves, their falls cushioned by the soft sand. When they saw me watching, they pulled out their best moves and I was most definitely impressed and amused.

Further down the shore, there were horses, some being ridden for a fee, others being washed in the ocean.

Each person in another group had a puppy. At first I thought they were washing them, but then I’d see a dog fly up into the air, or thrown out to battle over a wave. Abraham claimed they were teaching them to swim, but it all seemed a bit cruel to me.

Boys were playing soccer; women sold drinks and snacks—transporting the trays on their heads. At the far end, we got to the Rasta section and I smelled brief breezes of ganja in the air. Given how crowded it was, mostly with men, I’m glad I had Abraham with me to ward of any possible annoyances.

Another world

Sherif, the Egyptian I met Friday night, picked me up Sunday afternoon to take me to the café at the Golden Tulip. I was transported away from Ghana. Two Egyptians and a Tunisian met us there and I got to brush up my Arabic and use all my tired, lame jokes that I always pull out to impress Arabs. The whole café was full of Lebanese (who are a major force here, owning a lot of businesses and restaurants. The Lebanese in Ghana are like the Chinese in Malaysia and the Jews in the US) or other foreigners. The pool looked inviting and a definite escape route should Accra ever get to be too much (ala the Nile Hilton in Cairo). I definitely felt like I wasn’t in Ghana anymore. While I was having a good time, part of me feels like I was cheating myself because I wasn’t hanging out with Ghanaians. But I haven’t met many Ghanaians yet, so all in good time, I tell myself.

My conversations with Sherif were…interesting. He’s Coptic Christian and I learned about how the Copts are discriminated against in Egypt. Throughout the rest of our political conversations (Bush, Iraq, Palestine, etc), I felt as though he was sounding more American than me and I was more Arab than him.