Timpsons of Ghana

I while back, I went to get some keys cut – not normally the most exciting of tasks, but quite a Ghanaian experience!

First of all, finding the place was not the easiest of tasks. I had been told that the place was about 2/3 of the way between the traffic lights and the junction, and that the shop was near a small walkway and had a Ghanaian style blind at the front – not the easiest of directions to follow!

I pulled up to approximately the correct place, neatly dodging a stray goat, and asked men fixing engines where I could get my keys copied. They pointed me to the place, and I went to shop and asked if I could get two keys cut. They gave me a price (always agree a price BEFORE you start, saves a lot of hassle!) and a boy of about 12 gave me a low foot stool to sit on. He then went back to playing with his young sister, around 18 months, who was totally naked but for some fluorescent green beads around her waist, and of course gold studs (which girls here are practically born wearing). My attention returned to my key cutter, the children’s father I assume, who was filing the keys himself using very basic tools – a measuring device of sorts, a clamp and a simple file. Although it was around 4pm, the temperature was still in the late 30s at least, and I was still wearing full biking gear, denimy jacket, walking boots, long trousers, holding my large helmet and fleecy gloves.

His outdoor workshop was very basic – a table, his tools and a small filing cabinet. Above and around the worktable were the family’s clothes hanging out to dry, big plastic containers, some filled with water and a bench.

The children were just behind him – hardly a sight you’d be likely see in “health and safety” Britain; the boy and small girl, two other boys, aged about six and four, eating food (with their hands, of course, the Ghanaian way!) and then later, their older sister, perhaps 16, who appeared wearing her “tea-and-bread” (yellow and brown) school uniform. The small girl grabbed hold of her big sister and clung to her legs, clearly happy to see her.

Helping the key-cutter were two or three other young men, aged between 16 and 19 – sons, possibly, or apprentices. Just as I was wondering where mother was, she appeared, large bowl of water balanced on her head, and shouted for the girl to help her down with it. She then collected some water in a small plastic teapot (clearly not used for tea, just about as useful as a chocolate teapot in that sense) and washed her arms and legs.

Mother and older daughter went inside the small house (behind the workshop) and baby was left alone, attempting to eat some fallen rice from the ground until her big sister appeared and emptied her mouth. The boys finished their food, and one washed his hands and returned the plastic bowl to the spot where the food had been bought, clearly used to the routine.

As I sat and waited, I was acutely aware of the smell – the shop being just off the main road was right beside a large open gutter, and after a very hot day, the smell was not pleasant – one of many strong smells I encounter daily.

I asked for a receipt and the older boy was given the receipt book which he went off with for several minutes. I don’t know why the keycutter didn’t write it himself – perhaps illiterate, perhaps he doesn’t have the stamp bearing the shop’s name in his workshop – no idea.

As I left, in true Timpson’s style, I am given a friendly send off – a compliment – “I like your helmet!”

5 Ghana top 5s

Food

5. Cosay (probably spelt incorrectly) - looks like a doughnut, made from ground beans, sometimes a little spicy, breadlike in consistency.

4. Goat kebabs – only when bought from our spot, Feel at home – definitely the best in Bolga.

3. Plantain chips – served with a bit of yazee (ground peanuts and salt).

2. Fan Yogo – strawberry frozen yoghurt, bought from a Fan Ice boy at the tro tro station.

1. Jallof rice – red in colour, made with tomatoes, vegetables, chili, and sometimes the key secret ingredient, ground fish. Delicious!!

Drinks

5. Star – yes, I can’t believe it, but beer has actually made it into my top 5! Still drunk normally with a bit of Sprite to make shandy of sorts

4. Gordon’s Spark – basically alcopop made from gin and fizzy orange juice

3. Smirnoff Ice – just the way it comes at home

2. Red wine+sangria – out of 2 cartons, occasionally made into mulled wine.

1. Shandy – different from 1 above as it comes in a beer sized bottle and very refreshing – only available north of Tamale.

Stupid animals – especially when encountered on motorbike

5. Cows – not nearly so fast as other animals normally, they are more obstacles to dodge. However, one quick, unexpected move and I’m sure the cow would come off better than me. Someone has started letting out their cows at the end of our street – just a small herd of around 10 – as if I didn’t have enough to dodge what with the sewage from the neighbours house, the pig family and goats.

4. Pigs – they only appear at 4 as they are less common than the others – quite fast moving despite how they look, and they have such big families you can be waiting weeks until the whole lot cross the path.

3. Goats – by far the most common of animals encountered, but at least they understand when you beep your horn that they need to get out of the way and not run towards you.

2. Chickens – why did the chicken cross the road? Because they saw a motorbike coming towards them and decided that now was the best time to cross.

1. Sheep – the clear winner in this unfortunate competition, the sheep – who looks nothing like the sheep at home, more of a hairy kind of goat – is by far the most stupid of animals. Sheep do indeed follow each other everywhere, and seem to think that the motorbike horn is a signal to run towards and not away from.

Places to go when it’s too hot…

The few places in Bolga which have AC

5. The Vodafone office – unfortunately, not being a Vodafone customer, this hideout is not the most convenient – there’s only so long you can wander around looking lost in this small office before you are escorted out.

4. The electricity bill paying place – again, only really a viable option at very specific times – they don’t appreciate you going in to thank them for their good service.

3. The Afrikids office – always lovely and cool, and they give you water – but you can’t really disturb these hardworking people too often unless you actually have something to talk to them about!

2. Ubald’s office – one of the VSO Education officers, his office is always lovely and cool – but he is rarely there at the moment.

1. Barclay’s bank – perfect spot to hide out in for a while. Join the end of the queue and wait until you get really near the front, and then hold your head and say “oops, forgot my card today.” Alternatively sit in the waiting area reading a book and no-one bats an eyelid.

Weird and wonderful Ghana

5. The time that Ghanaians get up – when Olke and I go for our slightly crazy 6.15 runs, most people are already on their way to work and school, whereas I’ve just rolled out of bed.

4. Eating so neatly with their hands – Ghanaian food is mainly stodgy foods with soups and sauces, and Ghanaians are very good at eating neatly with only the right hand.

3. Greeting – everyone, everyday – makes for such a nice work atmosphere, but takes ages.

2. How much and what they can carry on their heads – sewing machines, planks of wood, school bags, massive bowls pilled high with fruit, veg, bags of stuff…

1. Ghanaianisms – I’m coming (meaning I’ll go away and come back at some time later today, small small (a very small bit/amount)…(more of these later)

Why you should eat all your goodies as soon as you get them…

I have just returned from Accra. We arrived in at 3am, Pat, another vol, slept on the sofa and I went off to my room. There seemed to be a bit of an odd smell there, but at 3am I didn’t care much, assumed it was my bag of dirty washing and all the dust that seems to have appeared over the week, so I changed my sheets and got into bed.

This morning, after a lazy breakfast and chat to my flatmates, I had a bucket bath and went to get dressed.. Rose helped me put my mattress – rather dusty so possibly the cause of the strange odour – outside to air. I then went to get dressed. On opening my drawers, I found the smell was worse and so pulled out my drawers to have an investigate at the back of the wardrobe. It was very dusty, but nothing else as far as I could see. On going through my drawers, however, I found some Starry Rock rock (which I had been saving for a rainy day and slightly forgotten about) all gnawed at... mice!

After squealing a little and showing Rose the rock, I got dressed and set about rinsing my clothes in that drawer (not easy when there’s not been any water since Thursday!) and sweeping out the stuff from the back of the wardrobe – using a couple of carrier bags as gloves as there was no other way to get into it. Then I felt something a little furry... then I REALLY screamed!! Thankfully, we had a Ghanaian friend over and he bravely removed the dead mouse, tail dangling from the bag... eugh!!

Next problem – cleaning up. We’ve had no water since Friday night and our supplies are running low, but we’ve now got some from the bore hole so I will use part of my ration and a lot of bleach...

Believe it or not, although, as many of you will know, I’m not all that TIDY, I’m relatively CLEAN, but cleaning out the back of my wardrobe and taking out the drawers doesn’t happen so often. No more sweets stashed in my room again!!

A night out......

A night out in Glasgow....

Clothing etc -
jeans, boots, nice top, cardigan, jacket, scarf, hat, gloves, hair straightened, make up and perfume on

Bag contents -
purse, phone, perhaps camera, make up, keys, ID, perhaps some extra layers

Getting there and away -
phone a taxi company you know and pay what they ask when you get there. Hope they get there on time.

A night out in Ghana

Clothing etc-
flip flops, dress, hair scraped back so that it doesnt stick to your neck in the heat, some lip balm if i remember as make up literally slides off your face

Bag contents -
purse, phone, perhaps camera, mozzy repellent, head torch, tissues and hand wash (for use at urinals), keys

Getting there and away - catch a taxi on the road, ask the price, argue with it, agree on something sensible (like 3 cedi, 1 pound 20).... and, as was the case on Saturday, take the taxi's landline number. Yes, our taxi had a proper house phone, which even had a landline number. I've no idea how he rigged it up - hilarious!

Rachael came back! It was fab! Here are the photos, I'm writing a book about the rest of the trip so will publish it when I've finished!

After waiting for the best part of an hour, playing “guess which one is Rachael” with myself as I saw people’s midriffs in the window as they came through customs and mistaking several young girls and a middle aged man for Rach, watching the pilot, the other pilot and a team of air hostesses come through and then leave the airport, Rach finally appeared! I took her to my poor taxi man, who had been waiting in the car park with his small girl sleeping in the back of the taxi.

We spent a night at the infamous “Hotel St George” and spent Monday morning changing money and trying to locate “Benal” for whom I had been given a mysterious package to hand over urgently.

We checked into our hotel in Elmina where a rather serious receptionist gave us a choice of room – double or twin – warning us that whichever we chose, we would have to share the bathroom facilities with whoever was in the other room… little did we know about the curse we seem to have put on most hotels in Ghana…

A short walk from the hotel was a little spot, where you could grab a plastic chair and look out over the golden sand and palm trees and look at the sea… why would you want to go anywhere else…

Tuesday morning found us strolling along the beach, paddling in the sea and looking out on to Elmina Castle in the distance. We found our way up to the castle, assured the army of Ghanaian men that, no, we did not need any help, and went on a (somewhat incomprehensible) tour of the castle, which had passed hands between the Dutch, Portuguese and British and was used as a short-medium term holding place for millions of slaves throughout the 17th-19th centuries.

We then visited another Fort. On our arrival, the elderly man, sleeping on a bench, got up, welcomed us with a warm smile, and went over to sit at his official desk. As he related the history of the fort to us, he put on his trousers then his shirt, spending much time fastening the cuffs, pulled on his socks (no shoes), and then took us on a tour of “his” fort – which I really believed he had as much affection for had it been his own home. We showed us all of the nicest views, advised us on all the prime photo taking spots around “his” fort, and told us to climb up a rather rickety ladder to his “wow” tower – so called as everyone says wow when they see it, as we too did.

He had pointed out a graveyard on a hill, so we then went up to check it out.

As we sat, catching our breath and watching some of Ghana’s finest sheep-goats stare at us, a man came along, introduced himself as the priest of the church, and asked us about our travels. After a few minutes of chatting, he said to me “so this is your daughter?!” Rachael erupted with laughter while I tried to explain that it was my friend, not my daughter, and Rachael spent the next hour making fun of her “mother”.

Karma… haha.

We walked back along the beach to our hotel, paddling in the sea and trying to avoid the many children that wanted us to “snap” them. All of a sudden, a rather large wave passed us, and as Rachael jumped away from it, dropped her sandal. The sea, clearly vying for me after the priest incident, decided to steal Rachael’s sandal as I tried not to laugh too much!! The receptionist didn’t bat an eyelid as we later walked into the hotel after our walk down the beach and then road, me fully sandaled and Rach in her bare feet!

We had a lovely meal that evening at Mabel’s Table – delicious fish and interesting pizza – while watching the most beautiful sunset 

Despite my ridiculous optimism, our early morning walk along the beach was fruitless, so we had to leave Elmina later that morning minus a sandal.

The next part of our journey, to Butre, was rather complicated and not particularly clear, and we did wonder how long it would take to get from Elmina to Takoradi, Takoradi to Angona and then Angona to Butre. But we did not give the Ghanaian tro service nearly enough credit.

We explained to our taxi driver that we wanted to go to Takoradi, and assumed that we would be waiting round Elmina for an undefined amount of time, probably at least an hour or so. This was not to be. We didn’t even get as far as the main tro stop when the taxi driver made a gesture out of the window, speaking Ghanaian Transport Sign Language, stopped the taxi, grabbed our bags and bundled us into a nearby tro. We were off.

The hour or so journey to Takoradi took us through lovely lush green countryside, quite different to the barren north. The tro assistant/money taker/bag organiser/passenger finder asked us where we wanted dropped off, so we said that the tro station. A look of confusion came over his face, so I said “lorry park”, (another way of saying tro station). He shouted to the driver, who turned around as if to say “you want dropped where?!” However, the tro driver and assistant, ever the helpful Ghanaians, stopped several people and asked, and a friendly man named Leonard, who used to be in the British army, helped us out and directed us to the tro station, giving me his phone number (and not asking for my number – unusual) and saying to call if we had any trouble on our travels.

On our arrival in Agona, we spent much time haggling with the taxi driver to get a taxi to Ghana Spirit for 10 cedi – as advised by the man at Ghana Spirit. Unfortunately, we didn’t realise that that would mean that the taxi driver would decide to drop us a little further from our destination than we expected – a very long 20 minutes ensued while we trudged along the beach at midday carrying far too much luggage, accompanied by two children who took our lighter bags and then hung around until we gave them some coins.

It was definitely worth the wait though. Golden sand, palm trees, beach huts, comfy sofas and a gorgeous view out onto the water – couldn’t ask for much more! Oh and no other guests (again).

Our first meal at Ghana Spirit was the only slightly disappointing thing about our whole visit. After over 30 minutes, we got our slightly soggy corned beef sandwiches. The cook/waiter/receptionist apologised for the delay, and explained that the fridge was in Butre (where we’d been dropped in the taxi) so they’d had to go and fetch the ingredients after we ordered!!

On Thursday morning, we set out very early on a boat trip where we’d been promised to see crocodiles, alligators and monkeys. We walked along the beach, passing two or three sets of men tugging on what looked like tug of war ropes. We later learned that the ropes were attached to each other, and were used to bring in fish.

We got to the boats and were told to wait while our guide got the boat ready. Rach and I played guess the boat, for once reversing the optimist/pessimist roles we normally take on, with me assuming the rickety old boat in the corner was ours, and Rach opting for the brightly painted blue one. Unfortunately I was right. The boat was brought over and our guide collected a bowl... which he used to scoop out the water from INSIDE the boat before we got in.

Our trip went on, and we saw fish, heard birds, and then stopped at the side for something. Our guide got out, rolled up his trousers and walked around on the muddy bank, occasionally putting his hand in the mud, apparently trying to scoop something out – perhaps he had lost something, maybe he was looking for gold?! We sat, sweating, thirsty and sun-burning, wondering when the trip would end and more than a little tempted to take off without him. We then noticed hundreds of tiny crabs... not quite what we were expecting. After a very long 5 minutes, our guide returned to the boat slightly annoyed at not having found whatever it was that he was looking for – a large crab I assume.

The rest of the day was spent eating the AMAZING breakfast of chocolate pancakes and banana, reading books on the sand, visiting Butre and paddling in the sea and eating far too much lovely food.

On the Friday, we travelled back to Cape Coast, very much looking forward to our stay at the “Savoy Hotel” – which was, on arrival, not quite what I’d pictured – I’m sure it was nice 15 years ago, when there were lightbulbs on the stairs and the staring statues had been dusted once in a while. We ate at Cape Coast Castle Restaurant, again gorgeous seafood, and drank cocktails in a bar on the beach.

We got up far too early on Saturday to make our way to Kakum National Park, a park an hour inland of Cape Coast with treetop canopy walks through the rainforest. I must admit I was rather anxious about being very high up on a swinging rope bridge, but put on a brave face and agreed to go along.

When we arrived, a little later than planned, there were few visitors and so I assumed the kindly VSO advice of “get there early” was just a malicious ploy to get me out of bed at 6am – there weren’t ten people there! We had to wait a while for a tour to start so got our morning caffeine fix in a nice wooden hut of a restaurant. Then, just as we got up to start our walk, a large crowd of 20 or 30 excitable Ghanaians appeared from nowhere and joined us on the walk. We decided that positioning ourselves at the back was the best bet so that we could take our time, avoid those who like to play on the nerves of those of us not so fond of heights by bouncing on the delicate rope bridges and try our hand at some Glamour-ous photography! This plan was somewhat scuppered when a group of school children came up in the group behind us, but we enjoyed the trip nonetheless and got a few Glamour-ous shots in here and there. We then opted for a forest walk, again worrying that we must be giving off some rather negative vibes to the Ghanaian public as we – yes, only Rachael and I – joined our guide. He took us on a pleasant tour of the forest, pointing our medicinal trees and showing us how to listen for birds. We saw a really big tree (biggest in the south of Ghana/Ghana/West Africa/the world?? – not sure) and then at the end, took us to see the camping spot for those brave enough to stay overnight. Or at least, he tried to. Unfortunately the path was blocked, so Rachael with her ever-impressive sense of direction, led us out of the deep forest, passing what she thought to be a rather dangerous snake and kindly not pointing it out to me. (Turns out it was a centipede!)

Coming back to reception, we realised that our kindly VSO advice had, in fact, been spot on – literally hundreds of holidaying Ghanaians had appeared in the subsequent couple of hours, and we were very glad to have got there early.

We left Kakum and took a tro to Hans Cottage Botel which had been recommended as a nice lunch spot by Anthony and Laura. And it was, very nice food, crocodiles to watch and we left just in time to avoid the hoards of Ghanaians that seemed now to be chasing us!
We had dinner that night at a lovely chop bar come spot very near Cape Coast Castle. Chic Hebs owned by Henrietta, a very colourful, voluptuous local, who was absolutely delighted when she realised that Rachael was Rachael Duncan, her sister having a vague connection to the Duncan clan, and insisted on several photos in front of her chop bar. The food was delicious, though the portions enormous!

Our final day in Cape Coast took us back to Cape Coast Cafe for brunch: a nice new place run by a slightly crazy guy who asked me and Rachael our business advice – what we liked, what we didn’t like, whether the prices were fair. Definitely one for the Bradt guide, superb food.

We spent the afternoon with a rather excitable group of Ghanaians looking round Cape Coast Castle, which was not as pretty as Elmina but with a much more comprehensive tour guide! It was the day after Independence Day, and there were hundreds of locals enjoying the sea.

We enjoyed a second cocktail at the Oasis Restaurant bar, and another delicious meal at Cape Coast Castle Restaurant, took photos on the beach and bought oranges from little Florence who had befriended us each time we’d gone onto the beach.

On Monday morning, not feeling so well (AVOID SALAD RACHEL!), we returned to the STC station to catch a bus back to Accra. Unfortunately, Monday being a public holiday and not having been able to book onto the bus before, we had to take a tro back to Accra – a surprisingly nice journey with a nice through breeze and many helpful locals keeping us right.

After a bit of an argument with a taxi driver with a sense of direction akin to mine who wanted us to pay him extra money because he got lost and took longer to find the hotel than expected, we came across a rather strange phenomenon... other guests in a hotel! Yes, that’s right, the curse lifted, there were OTHER PEOPLE sharing a hotel with us. Extraordinary.

We had been unable to book into the Afia African Village Guest House, so we decided to treat ourselves to dinner there, very much worth it even if it was comfort food of tomato soup and ice-cream for my poor tummy!

Our final morning took us on a long walk around Accra, and then to the Cultural Centre craft market – and many very pushy vendors – oh how I like the salesmen in Bolga. After a very long taxi ride to secure me a bus ticket for the following morning, we treated ourselves to a swim at the Shangri-la before heading to the airport and putting Rach on her plane (sniff).

Super super holiday, nice tan, great chat and so relaxing.

Fancy a visit?

Burns night a la Ghana

On Saturday – yes Saturday just past – we had a Burns night party with a distinct Ghanaian flavour – the tardiness!

By Thursday, I decided it was really time to start on my cooking. I got the recipe for Mrs Jump (Dave’s Gran’s) tablet (the reason for slight post-bulldozer weight gain in Swailand), had my HUGE container of condensed milk (only sold in 700g containers) and now needed a kg of sugar. One problem – no scales in the house, very expensive to buy and tricky to find in Bolga. I went into one of Bolga’s best supermarkets (think small corner shop Spar) and asked how much sugar was in a large plastic (sandwich type) bag. A bowl I am told… so I ask how many grams a bowl holds. The poor girl shrugs her shoulders at this demanding “sulumia” and shows me the bowl used for measuring. Having no real idea what a kg of sugar looks like, I agree to take a largish bag… and proceed to the post office.

I trudge into the post office, still in full motorbike gear (helmet, substantial gloves, large bag on my back.) I measure my small package and buy the appropriate postage… then it occurs to me – post office scales! So I asked the man (who, like supermarket girl, also must think me slightly crazy) if I can use his scales to measure my sugar. 1.08kg – perfect!

Tablet made successfully – perfect consistency found by accident after dropping fork in the mixture!

Saturday morning = time for shortbread making – Grandma’s recipe this time. Again, I am faced with the same problem – how to measure the ingredients. I cut the correct amount of butter (4oz) using the gram markings on the side of the paper. I need 2oz sugar and 6oz flour… so how can I measure this with no scales? All I have to work with is a wooden chopping board, several plastic containers and a few empty tiny tomato puree tins. Hmm…. homemade balance scales!! My first few attempts are pretty pathetic – the tins are not small enough to make a good middle balancing bit… then – rubbers! I find two small rubbers in my resource area, and put them under the board, then put half the butter on one side and start my measuring.

The result? Some rather tasty shortbread. (Finished just before the electricity went out for several hours.)

The party was a success. Jason made a rather tasty mackerel concoction to put on bread, and Laura, Vic and I made potato/yam scones and potato/yam soup. This, along with some tinned haggis (thanks Mum and Dad) made our feast, along with some of India’s finest Party Whisky.

Our slightly alternative Burns evening started with a verse of the Bard’s Address to the Haggis and the Selkirk Grace. After our wee feast, we had a Scottish quiz – naming the body parts in Scots, matching famous Scots to their world famous achievements, two rounds of Scotland questions (no, Scots do not (normally) keep their Christmas decorations up until Burns night… but thank you, Rachel Campbell is a well known Scottish artist!) and, my favourite, Scottish music intros.

Unfortunately we didn’t get round to any Scottish dancing… roll on St Andrew’s day!

Photos to follow soon I hope!

A pious weekend

Having somewhat neglected church going activities since arriving in Bolga for various reasons, I thought I should make up for it this weekend.

My first stop, on Saturday, was the funeral of the Catholic Archbishop of Bolgatanga and Navrongo who died suddenly at the end of December. Olke and I decided to pop have a look to see what was happening. We found our way to what I think of as the Catholic area of town – it boasts the Catholic Social Centre, a fully built Catholic church, a half built Catholic church and several St Charles Primary schools – which I have finally established is just the one school spread through several buildings (finding the correct building when visiting the school, however, is another question entirely.)

I have got to say that the funeral was one of the most impressively organised events I have come across in Bolga. There were policemen around, a First Aid stand, food vendors and an array of archbishop memorabilia including programmes, stickers and rosaries.

We made our way through the crowds to get a position at the back of the service – which was being held in the large, half built church which seemed quite like a stadium. In the centre, was a white coffin with a gold cross on top and arrangements of flowers and ribbon. The Archbishop of Wa gave a speech (I think he was the Archbishop of Wa) and there were many prayers and bible readings. People were beautifully dressed – some in Catholic school uniforms, some in black and many in white and black outfits, which I believe is one of the traditional funeral colours. Also were many people in dresses or outfits with Catholic churches or popes on them. We also saw one man wearing a pink t-shirt boasting quite a lot of gold tinsel – and his sidekick wearing a baby-pink sash – a little unusual.

On Sunday, I went with a Ghanaian friend to her church service – not something I plan to repeat in the near future, but certainly an interesting experience. I was to meet my friend at 8.30 and we left around 9.15, arriving at the church at 9.30. We were a little late – the service had started at 8 – but that didn’t matter as they were still in the middle of their VERY LOUD singing, which lasted another 20mins after we arrived. The pastor then got up and performed his sermon lasting well over an hour. Finally, people came to the front for healing prayers, and there were two collections – one straight after the other, and you were expected to contribute to both.

The church is by far the biggest and most impressive building in the whole Upper East Region and would fit in well in any American city. The powerpoint would put many churches in the UK to shame, and the sound system worked far too well! I do wonder if the money spent on building this church would be better spent on things such desks or chairs for children in the very deprived primary schools just a stone’s throw away.