Match of the Day …no, no, no, Match of the YEAR!!

While some of you may have been watching the premiership league matches this past Saturday, I must inform you that, unfortunately due to lack of televised coverage, you likely missed the Match of the Year! 
 

Asamankese’s Lydia Cafeteria School U12 vs.  Obroni Canucks

Having borrowed a football from a group of amused older teenage boys, Melissa and I approached the pitch with our very own photographer Jan for a 4pm kick-off against a group of 8 boys who mistakenly thought it would be a walk in the park.  As one boy keenly joined our amazing duo, to be our impressive keeper, we kicked off against the remaining boys on the most uneven playing field which probably resembles more of a collection of small mounds than a football pitch with several inches of unkept grass to heighten the challenge of the game. 

Initially the spectators were only the five or six children in the immediate area around the field, however, as word spread of the incredible level of play – ok maybe it was more that there were two obroni girls playing football – we had drawn a crowd of at least 30 or more.  However, as one of the older guys noticed the slight disproportion in team size he stopped the game to give our opponents a bit of a scolding.  Although it had been an intense first half – Melissa and I welcomed this break in play – we were quite content with the 1-0 score; actually we had them right where we wanted them!!  Nevertheless, Eugene and his shy friend, I will call Red (he was wearing a red shirt), enthusiastically joined our squad to complete the powerhouse for a dynamite second half.

As the second half continued, the game intensified as we evened up the score and proceeded to rotate leads.  However, as the final whistle blew – actually, the older boys informed us of their match on the pitch that would begin in 2 minutes – the game ended in a draw of 4-4.  It was a game well played and I thoroughly enjoyed being able to dust off my old soccer boots (technically my running shoes since I didn’t pack any) for a good game of football.

Duck, Duck, Good

Remember those childhood games you used play?  Well, you might recall it better as Duck, Duck, Goose but this weekend along the hillside in Asamankese we played Duck, Duck, Good!  I went up to visit my friend Melissa – known by the local children as Merissa Merissa – where she has been based throughout her time in Ghana.  In addition to showing us around the town and a wonderful tour of the market, she took us to a tucked away hillside cluster of huts, which was the home to a small community of maybe 30 people, 20 of whom were delightful children.

Having visited a few times before, we accompanied her as she navigated our way through the path up the hillside, equipped with books, colouring sheets & crayons, and of course stickers.  However, once the stories were read, pictures drawn and stickers stuck, GAME TIME had begun.  We started with head & shoulders, which Melissa had taught them on a previous visit and they were so excited to participate as they recalled the song and actions.  Following this we assembled the group of children into a circle and preceded to demonstrate the game of Duck, Duck, Goose.  They quickly caught on and were filled with laughter as they chased one another around the circle; even the older children watching from the side were in stitches.  However, we did notice that as the game went on it wasn’t ‘goose’ for the selected chaser but rather ‘good’.  We did attempt at emphasizing ‘goose’ a few more times, but whether goose or good they were absolutely enjoying the game & hysterical with laughter that ‘good’ was good enough for me. 

Therefore, if you ever find yourself in the hillside of Asamankese be prepared for a nice game of Duck, Duck, Good :) Yesterday brought back the importance of the little things in life and how one classic Canadian children’s game can bring so much joy and so much laughter.  Thank you Asamankese!

 If you'd like to have a look at more of my pictures from Ghana please click on the link below:
Ghana photo album

The marriage proposals!

Yes you did read the title correctly, proposals is plural.  I can honestly say I’ve never experienced so many declarations of love or requests for my hand in marriage than I have in these past weeks.  Even though I had been pre-warned that it is fairly common for some Ghanaian men to declare their love rather quickly, it is still something that catches you off guard, especially when you simply say “Good morning” and are responded to with “Good morning, are you married?”  Being pretty early in the day I’m slightly thrown off and say “no” quickly followed by “yes” which isn’t very convincing and own up with “no.”  This is immediately greeted by the UNKOWN man with a simple “I love you, marry me?” I continue to be surprised with the extremely forward offer of affection and commitment that I am only really able to respond with a nervous laugh and a “I’m fine just now, thank you!” - as if I had just being offered a glass of water.

While the above encounter is the pretty standard straightforward offer of marriage, others build up to it slightly more gradually.  Another morning I was running a bit late and as I crossed the road to get my trotro to work, a hawker selling cloth - probably in his early 20s - was crossing alongside me.  Very observant, he kindly pointed out that I was sweating and enquired where my handkerchief was – it’s usually at least 30C by 8am & HOT.  I informed him that I was running late and had forgotten it at home.  As this had clearly broken the ice, the next obvious thing for him to ask would be if I had a husband. A little flustered and wishing I had my handkerchief, I responded with a “not at the moment” - as if I were somehow currently in between husbands for the time being?!?  Absolutely delighted by this news, he proceeds to ask the inevitable, “Will you marry me?”  Again surprised by such a request from an absolute stranger and only moments after a brief exchange on perspiration, I can only offer a nervous laugh to which he himself was apparently surprised by and asked, “Why do you laugh at my love? If someone was selling handkerchiefs, I would buy one for you.”  As though the offer to buy me a handkerchief would solidify his request. By this time we had reached the other side of the road and must go our separate ways, me without a handkerchief and he without a fiancée.

However, not all of my discussions on matrimony with Ghanaian men have been offers of marriage.  One evening my taxi driver John – a lovely gentleman in about his mid-60s - after giving me a quick lesson in the local Ga language proceeded to tell me why I should marry a Ghanaian man over a Westerner.  Essentially, he believed that because of the differences in me being Canadian and a potential Ghanaian husband, a Ghanaian man would have a greater appreciation for me as a result of those differences.   I thanked him for looking out for my best interest and told him I’d be sure to keep it in mind.  Even though John himself was not seeking marriage, he was still looking out for his fellow countryman, which you must appreciate the solidarity.

As difficult as it might be for these pursuers to fathom, I am fine just now without a husband, especially a random one, but I may start looking to purchase myself my own token ring for the remainder of my time in Ghana, if only to reduce the frequency of proposals.  Although in doing so would likely reduce the quantity of material for future blogs, as flattering and kind as it may be, I may just have to make that sacrifice.

Crafting the art of bartering

Upon approaching any main road, I am immediately greeted by a plethora of taxis and their frequent and quick use of the horn, awaiting a wave of the hand or any signal of confirmation for the need of a driver.   When I am not in need of one, this is usually accompanied by a look of utter disbelief combined with a hand-wrist flick combo. When in need, however, taxis in Ghana do not use a meter to determine the fare of the journey but rather only unwritten "standard" fares between destinations which can of course be easily inflated.   Thus, agreeing on a reasonable fare requires the help of those familiar with the territory, trial & error and ultimately skillful bartering.

My first week in Accra was a good week for the taxi drivers of the city that cashed in on my lack of knowledge of the local fares.  As with most things, learning the rates and bartering took a little practice and while the taxi drivers may have enjoyed my first week, I can say it hasn’t been so easy for them since. 

Typically, the driver will tell you to simply get into the taxi, however, it is best to first establish the fare of the journey.  Being an obroni, the taxi driver will usually give an absurdly high fare.  I tend to greet this ridiculous amount with a little laugh and shoot back with a fare of at least half or approximately 2 to 3 cedis below the typical fare depending on distance of journey.  This allows for a little wiggle room and even the potential to grab a bargain. It also lets the driver know that I am familiar with the rates.  If the taxi driver doesn’t come down to an acceptable fare, not a problem I simply move on to the next taxi.  This is also beneficial because the second taxi driver will likely have seen me decline the first and offer a more reasonable amount. 

Nevertheless, while the initial bartering may at times be a bit intense and slightly heated, it is simply business.  I like to approach my style of bartering with a sense of humour and respect, which has worked pretty well thus far.  Once the fare is agreed, the journey is underway and is often a very pleasant ride – one taxi driver even offered me a few plantain chips (my favourite!!).

little by little

There’s nothing like a last minute weekend adventure!  Which is preciously why when Melissa called Friday afternoon to see if I was feeling better (I had come down with a nasty head cold earlier in the week from getting caught in a massive downpour) & up for joining her and Sampson on a road trip to HoHoe, in Ghana’s Volta region, I quickly packed a bag and within an hour we were off.  Well we may have physically been in the car but traffic on a Friday leaving Accra is pretty much at a snails pace.  Nevertheless, 5 hours later we had safely arrived to our destination, irrespective of a couple bumpy roads and a few cheeky police checkpoints seeking (although not receiving) a few cedi for our passage along the way.

After a good nights rest we were up and ready to start exploring HoHoe and its surrounding villages.  Driving through town, Melissa and I enjoyed our new found celebrity status as local children excitedly waved as soon as they spotted the obronies driving past.  During the tour we noticed a lovely Miss Ghana statue in the middle of town & were quickly informed that in fact HoHoe is the home of the first Miss Ghana (never know when that might come up in a trivia question).  Following a late breakfast, joined by Sampson’s friends Yasin & Richard (who’s hometown is HoHoe) we headed off to Wli waterfalls, the highest in Ghana. 

Since we arrived in the early afternoon we were unable to complete the 4-hour hike to the top of the falls and return before sunset.  Initially disappointed for having to settle for the 2-hour hike to the viewpoint, we were soon relieved as the heat and steepness of the climb was more than we had anticipated.  Thankfully our skillful tour guide Mattieo provided us with walking sticks and an eagerness to share the natural splendor of Wli falls.  Upon our decent the breathtaking beauty combined with the fierce power of the waterfall greeted us. Not wanting to miss a rare opportunity we jumped in and experienced its strength while simultaneously embracing the refreshing water of the falls.  It was absolutely incredible.

We had a pretty relaxed night as I enjoyed my jollof rice & chicken for dinner (apparently you can only have redred & plantains earlier in the day) and then off to where else in HoHoe but ‘Obama’s Bar’!  And while I do not believe President Obama made the journey to HoHoe, Ghana was indeed the first African country he visited after becoming President in 2008.

The adventure continued the following morning as we grabbed a breakfast to go of potassium packed bananas, we quickly headed to Mt. Afadaja, the highest peak in Ghana at an impressive 2950m.  In hindsight this minimalist breakfast was probably not the best idea but we did not want to arrive too late & miss the opportunity to hike to the top of the mountain.

However, an adventure wouldn’t be an adventure without a few obstacles, especially in the form of crater-sized potholes. One in particular though did appear to stop us in our tracks.  But rather than get all worked up about it the guys simply got out of the car along with a few passer-bys & within a few minutes lifted it out.  Now the car may have been recovered from the hole, it couldn’t, however, continue down the road.  But not to fear, with the car parked on the side of the road, there were two guys with motorcycles willing to take us the remaining 5 minutes drive.  So yes, Melissa and I on the back of one bike with our trusty driver Francis and the three guys with the driver for a total of four grown men on the back of the other.  It was definitely a sight to see!

We arrive at the base of the mountain and are joined by Puka our tour guide.  Now I may have taken up running this past year and even completed my first half marathon but I prefer taking my time while walking, some may say this is ‘walking slowly’ I say it’s more ‘enjoying the moment’ style walking!  Needless to say little by little we climbed the mountain.  At times I did feel as though I wouldn’t finish the almost 3km hike at what felt like a 90° angle.  Puka informed us that several groups don’t make the full trek & turn around.  Actually we had practically reached the top & had an incredible view already, which after almost 2 hrs that I was pretty satisfied with.  But the 12 year old, who does this climb most weekends, and doesn’t even break a sweat (ya that part hurt!!), convinced me that I’d made it this far and that that little bit further was more than worth it.  Ten minutes later we reached the top of the mountain to a stunning view of the village below as well as the neighboring Togo border.  

Whether it was hiking up mountains or the journeys in between, little by little we accomplished some great feats this past weekend.  Thus, with a helping hand, little by little we can all set out on our journeys and take on some incredible tasks to achieve the things we set our minds to.

Happy travels! ☺