Tamale take TWO!

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NOTE: Two chickens were maimed, broken, and bloodily devoured by crocodiles in today's entry. If such a thing offends you, or my humorous re-telling of such a thing offends you, please skip over today's entry.

Whoops!
Sorry about that, friends. Ghana has been having power issues as of late-- something to do with the main dam that powers the country being problematic. In order to fix it, the technicians had to turn off entire grids, which in this case meant entire areas of the country, in order to do the repairs. As such, our entire stay in Tamale was wonderfully peppered with blackouts and days of no power. It really wasn't that bad except for the excruciating heat, the inability to shower or draw water, and the dining in the dark.

But now we are in Cape Coast! But I will get to that later. I still have to tell you all about Tamale.

We arrived after a dirty, gross, dusty, sweaty busride sprinkled with roach sightings (INSIDE the bus... it was terrifying). The roads in Ghana are not great. Since they do not have the budget to employ a police force to monitor the speeds on the roads, they put in speed bumps along all major highways. In addition to the potholes and other gaps in the road, coupled with the lack of suspension on our vehicle, it was a jarring ride. But, with only a couple of "bush stops" (when we pulled the bus to the side of the road to allow members of our party to properly relieve themselves), we made it. We were then split into two groups-- those staying at the Catholic Guest House, and those staying at the other hotel whose name I have forgotten. If you can't tell, I was put into the Catholic Guest House.

The facilities were excellent, we had a shady bar/hangout area that served as the main center of activity, and the mess hall was wonderfully close to our rooms. Although by Western Hotel standards it wasn't anything to write home about, after life in the compound and life in the village, it was as good as any 5-star hotel to me. They had RUNNING WATER!

Tamale was extremely different. It was a cultural change from the southern Ghana we had gotten to know and love (well, some of us anyway). Twi was no longer the predominant language, so we were unable to communicate as readily as before. Also, due to the heavily Islamic presence in Tamale, we were required to alter our already more conservative dress. Head coverings were recommended by our staff, and we were obliged to comply. I actually bought some very beautiful veils there-- despite many women being covered from head to toe, it's a beautiful style.

Another major change, for me at least, was the tourist population. Due to Tamale's proximity to Mole, the major national park and main tourist draw, the city is host to many more obrunis. As such, the sight of an Obruni is much more common and I did not encounter the same amount of hassling from street vendors, or the same number of inquiries from curious Ghanians. It was startling, really, how differently we were treated. I walked down a street and no one noticed. It was crazy. I think it will be the same kind of change at home-- I'll walk down the block, turn around at the end and yell out "DIDN'T ANYONE SEE ME WALK BY?" Watch out, citizens of Columbus.

We had several days of classes and getting to know Tamale days. My favorite part of town was the Cultural Center. They had little booths set up there with various "Authentic Ghanian" crafts and wears. Although it was clearly a tourist stop and therefore catered to westerners, I was able to make friends with a woman who owned a Batik store there. I purchased several of her designs as well as some other things, but if I told you about them I'd be ruining many a Christmas present so you'll just have to writhe in anticipation. Bwa ha.

The main market was also fascinating. As in the other markets I have found here, they sold anything from live Chickens to car parts. Organized in sections by goods (fish over here, car parts over there, snack vendors peppered throughout), the smells and sights are overpowering. I got to hold a Guinea Fowl, a specialty of the North, and try the Cola nut. The nut is used in creating Coca-Cola, but it also has a lot of cultural significance.

The highlight of Tamale was, by far, the excursions to Mole National Park and Togo. We were able to reach Mole only after a bumpy, hellish ride of non-roads in our suspension-challenged Trotro, but once we reached our accommodations it was if we had died and reached some kind of Students-Abroad-in-Africa-Nirvana. The rooms were cool and clean (with pillows! And sheets!), there were pre-drawn buckets of water AND tap water, and... wait for it... there was a SWIMMING POOL.

Hot damn it was worth the ridiculous prices.

We spent the night by the pool and eating a pretty good dinner. The views were incredible. The hotel itself was built on top of a cliff that oversees the majority of the park. Right below our vista was one of the main watering holes, where elephants reportedly gathered to wallow in the mud and do other elephant-ish things. Although we didn't see any from the terrace, the tales of sightings in the past were enough to excite us for our hike the following morning. We did, however, get to come quite close to warthogs and baboons, as well as a white-fur-thing monkey and some really ugly birds.

And yes, these are technical names. There will be a quiz next week, so take notes.

We woke up the next morning to depart at 6, in order to catch the early-rising animals in their morning routines. We split into two groups again, and after some confusion on proper footwear (Mole rules require you to wear close-toed shoes. If you don't have proper footwear you are forced into renting some rather clunky Wellies. The ironic bit is that the wellies they rent out are so worn in that they have gaping holes in the foot. Oh Ghana.), my group took off. We started out by encountering a few warthogs wallowing in mud by the side of the road, and hiked through the bush to find a family of baboons and some more monkeys (what type? I don't know. They were brown. I think) in a tree. Of course what we were really after was an elephant.

Our guide was quite nice. He shifted the gun he was required to carry at all times from shoulder to shoulder, texting on his cellphone while leading us through the bush. I actually liked him quite a bit (seriously, I did). He answered all my questions, and when I kept pestering him good-naturedly to procure an elephant for us, he tossed me his cellphone with a picture of an elephant as the background.

He really knew his way around the park. He led us through elephant grass taller than myself, across eroded gorges and through a dried up watering hole. Eventually we circled back around to the main wallowing watering hole (Hehehe, wallowing watering hole. I like that) and across the field, we saw....

A white-tailed deer thing! WOOO!

Well, we saw that first. And after we had successfully scared THAT animal away, we looked across the field to see the elephant.

It was awesome. He was pretty tiny and we couldn't get much closer due to the muddy watery wasteland between us, but he had tusks and was doing that adorable flappy thing with his ears that elephants do.

My older sister, Katherine, really likes elephants. She does this excited-gasp noise whenever we see an especially adorable one in print or in film or wherever. I made that gaspy noise in her honor.

The hike back was filled with more blurry bird sightings, an angry warthog, and many startled antelope. We ended up climbing up the cliff directly to the terrace of our hotel, where several members of both groups fell directly into the pool and did not come out until we had to leave.

The drive back was hot and dusty. So dusty, in fact, that we were able to scrape layers of accumulated road-dirt off of our faces and exposed skin. Yaaaaay!

The next day we woke up early (5:30 a.) in order to catch a bus leaving for Paga, the boarder town that is famous for its crocodile ponds. Originally created as sacred pools to pay proper tribute to the clan's ancestors and the crocodile gods, today they are bribed out of the ponds with live chickens so fat white people can sit on them.

The times, they are a-changin'.

Most of our group went, although a few stayed behind due to the long bus ride. It took us 6 hours to make it to the boarder town. More bumpy roads, but on this ride we didn't charter the entire bus (due to it being an optional trip, not scheduled by SIT), so I spent the ride with my knees touching my chin while being sweat upon by my snoozing neighbor. I think the fondest memories I shall carry back home with me will be of my time in transit. Le sigh.

The ponds were beautiful. We only really saw one, the King's Pond (with the most crocodiles in it), but the marshy landscape popping out of the dry surroundings was quite a sight to behold. After paying the proper fees (one to behold the ponds, one to buy the chickens, one to ride the crocks), we walked over to get close to the pond. We had purchased two small chickens-- named "Mushy" and "Fufu" by yours truly-- that two small boys carried with them. A small crocodile was first called in one of the tinier runoff ponds, and we all took pictures of his grimacing smile. But then we were called to the main pond where Big Daddy had decided to grace us with his presence.

And what a presence it was. The crocodile wasn't HUGE, but he was pretty darn big. His eyes were smoky and glazed over, and his mouth was constantly open during the entire photo-session. He only closed the layers of sharp, pointy teeth to snap the neck of Mushy when we were done. The guides showed us how to properly walk around Big Daddy (also a name provided by myself), how to sit on his back and how to hold his tail. We were skittish at first, scattering like a cockroaches in sudden light whenever he moved his head, but as more and more students approached him to take increasingly ridiculous photos, we became pretty comfortable.
I got to ride him, and it was awesome. I held his tail and patted his back and snapped my pictures. Totally worth it. I then turned to our guide and asked him if I could feed him the chicken. And he said yes.
Best. Day. EVER.
In order to properly prepare Mushy, the small boys tied its wings together so he couldn't get away. They then handed him to me and told me to aim at Big Daddy's mouth-- not to throw it to close to me, because he was most likely going to lunge forward to capture Mushy in his menacing jaws. So I looked Big Daddy in the eyes, swung Mushy back, and lobbed him into the air.
As Mushy flew through the air, the crowd made small noises of terror as they snapped their photos. We waited for Big Daddy to lunge... and...
Well, I missed. So sue me. You try throwing a chicken and see how accurate you are.
So they poked Big Daddy with a stick and kind of... guided him over to the twitching ball that was Mushy, and THEN his big jaws snapped and cracked and Mushy was no more. I was watching when I felt the guide shove me forward.
"Go! Now go ride him again!"
"...excuse me? WHILE he's devouring that helpless animal that I tossed him?"
"Go go go!"
And so I went.
Not only did I get to ride a crocodile and feed him a chicken, but I got to ride him as he ate the chicken.
Awesome day.

There was also a "historic village" (read: place built to siphon off tourists' money) to visit in Togo, and we briefly got to see it. But we were rushed through the rest of our time there due to miscommunication and our impatient SIT staff member (who accompanied us on our journey). But the buildings were very beautiful. They have a different style of decoration in the far north-- painting directly on to the mud exteriors. The black patterns, painted only by women, are reflective of the village and the values. Diamonds, symbols of strength and endurance, are the most common, but due to the unusual presence of the crocodile pond, the crocodile was also a popular motif. I wish we could have gotten a bit more time there, but alas! What can you do? You can't feed a crocodile a chicken and see the village too.

We drove past the boarder on the way back. That was very cool to see as well.

After both of these excursions, we woke up early yet again to get on the sans-suspension bus to drive to Cape Coast. The drive is exceptionally long, so they smartly decided to stay the night in Kumasi. We saw a waterfall on the way down, and got some very amusing group photos. I'll see if I can get one of those posted-- it's about time for another picture post, if I can manage it. After the waterfall we drove without major incident to Kumasi where we stayed the night. Some students went back to visit their homestay families, but I did not. Surprise surprise.

Instead I went with Megan Gurrentz and Lydia to visit Mame B, one of the teachers we had in Kumasi as well as Megan's homestay mom. She was wonderfully welcoming, and asked us many questions about our travels and gave us Fantas. It was really nice to see her again. We also got to see her husband, who is also a Chief of a village (but lives in Kumasi). I'd only met him once before, where when he asked me (in Twi) where I lived, I responded "Aduwe Encuanta", the stop on the Tro-tro I got off at. Aduwe Encuanta, in English, means Monkey Junction. Due to the difficulty I had saying Aduwe correctly, I would often have to resort to English, saying "Monkey Junction! Monkey Junction!" in order to get directions or to stop the Tro-tro at the right time. I had told this story to Mame B's husband, so when he saw me and after we had done the Ghanian greetings, he pointed at me with a large smile on his face and bellowed, "Monkey Junction!".

Megan and Lydia found that pretty funny. It's a nickname now. Le sigh. (A note to Lyndsey, who I know is reading this: NO, you may not call me Monkey Junction.)

The Chief also said that, "You have only been gone a few days and you are looking beautiful! You have grown so fat!" It's a nice compliment to a Ghanian... but we mostly just laughed. The constant starchy diet is getting the better of us, it seems. Hahahaha!

We left Kumasi the next morning (early, again) to drive the remainder of the journey to Cape Coast. More suspension-less potholes, more roaches, more dust. But we're here, we've made it, and it's beautiful. Cape Coast, the old capital of Ghana, is on the Ocean. It boasts many beaches and rocky things to take pictures of, in addition to two historic castles built by the Dutch and the Portugese (later to be taken over by the Swedish, and eventually British). Both fortifications of claimed territory and slave gateways, we are going to tour both during our visit here.

I think that's enough for one post. I'll work on more photos! Sorry for the delay in posting, in Tamale telling, et cetera.
Be safe!
Love,
Freckles O'Bruni, Monkey Junction, Auntie Lala
... or just Lo!