Finally a properly chilled out day. With not a great deal to see in Larabanga we made a sharp exit for Mole National Park – the largest destination of its type in Ghana, and the best possibility of wildlife viewing. It’s only around 5kms from Larabanga to the Mole Motel so we took the trip on the back of motorcycles arranged by the Salia Brothers.
Mole Motel is the most traditionally ‘holiday’ place I’ve been to yet, very roomy – space really isn’t an issue here, the accommodation huts look slightly institutional but are very comfortable. The main hotel is built around a pool and bar area which sits at the top of a hill with the veranda offering a sensational view of the savannah – a watering hole in the foreground, and the park stretching out as far as the eye can see and beyond.
With the weather veering between showers and bright sunshine the day was spent relaxing, dipping in the pool, listening to music and reading, while as an added bonus the TV in the bar allowed me to keep up to date with the first day of the new Premier League season, including watching Arsenal annihilate Everton. Even just staying in the confines of the motel we got to see some pretty exciting wildlife including warthogs grazing outside our room, and a cheeky monkey that pranced poolside to steal food from unsuspecting guest’s plates.
The evening was spent getting slowly toasted although the lack of action from the fellow guests was disappointing. It’s by far the most number of white people I’ve seen in a single group since leaving England, and I was expecting a bit more of a party atmosphere, when in fact the vast majority had shot off to bed well before 10.00. Leaving me at the bar with only a group of typically obnoxious Americans for company… needless to say I preferred my own. Tomorrow promises to be exciting with a safari walk including the strong possibility of seeing elephants up close and personal!
Sunday 16th August
Day two at Mole National Park, and my first proper ‘safari’ experience. After a few lagers the night before, I decided to forgo the seven a.m. walk in favour of the more civilized 15.30 departure. Eight of us spent two hours in the scorching African heat picking our way through the savannah and relishing the opportunity to view the native wildlife up close and personal in its natural environment.
We saw various monkeys, baboons, antelope and all manner of birds, but of course it was all about the elephants in reality. And we were in luck, although apparently its less likely to see elephants on the afternoon walk, within twenty minutes our guide Christopher had led us to two fully grown African Elephants – and they were every bit as impressive I had hoped.
Obviously they were huge, but they still managed to be strangely elegant for something so big, and were utterly disinterested in our presence. We were able to get to within about 20 meters of the larger of the two at one point, although he continued to go about his important business of eating in a calm, unrushed manner, slowly transferring large branches to his mouth via his huge trunk. Our ranger identified this elephant as one of the eldest in the area at 60-70 years old, and the way he moved confidently and methodically with a calmness in the absolute knowledge that he’s the boss put me in mind of Marlon Brando as the Godfather.
The other pleasant surprise from our walk in the forest was the smell – the floor was carpeted by a fantastic amount of wild mint that released a wonderful mojhito aroma as we trampled through the bush. Returning from the safari walk I just had time for a cold shower and an even colder beer before enjoying the spectacular sunset over dinner.
Earlier in the day we had been joined by Beth and the three Dutch girls – now off on their travels prior to heading home – and various other stragglers that they’d befriended on the way, and all of them to man, well, women. Individually I like them all, but in a large group for dinner and drinks it was all a bit too girly, and I was seriously craving some decent male company.
Male volunteers here are very few and far between, but there only so many times you can hear about sun tans, salad or hair before reaching for the nearest blunt instrument to end all of the pain. In the end I had to put in an emergency call to WJM to just chat about something normal for a change. There’s a word in Ghana to describe a boy who always plays with girls, and I’m definitely feeling like a Maa-ta at the moment.
Monday 17th August
Another early start for the 4.00 a.m. Mass Metro bus back to Tamale (and then on to Kumasi) – there’s nothing quite like taking your life into your hands before sunrise! Thankfully the bus route starts at the Mole Motel so we were at least able to guarantee a seat this time, and I was able to position myself strategically by the rear door for extra leg room.
If anything this time the journey descended into a greater degree of bedlam than on the way to Mole. After a painstaking loading we eventually pulled into Larabanga at about 4.45, where as we learnt on Friday the population is about 4,000, I reckon we were met by a good ¾ of them all absolutely determined to board the bus. A good many actually succeeded creating a scrum around the doorwell in front of me as tight as anything at Piccadilly Circus or Waterloo underground.
After a while the bus driver came down to our end and kicked off anyone that didn’t have a ticket, only for them all to try and sneak back on again as soon as his back was turned like a group of naughty schoolchildren. As funny as it looked, you can understand their efforts – as far as I can ascertain this is the only bus connecting Larabanga and the next town Damongo with Tamale and the other larger towns in between. Many of the people were clearly traders so missing the coach probably means missing a day’s sales. The same goes for any appointments or meetings in Tamale. Lunacy.
Once clear of Larabanga the journey speeded up considerably, but was still a bone rattler… the general sense of fun not being helped by either the young girl who was sick on the floor in front of my going over one of the larger bumps, or indeed the American girl’s panic attack halfway through.
… The first part of this entry was drafted at the start of our tro ride back to Kumasi from Tamale – an estimated six hour journey that in actual fact took 9½ hours as our driver at first dawdled along like a Sunday afternoon cruise, and we then had to wait on three separate occasions for the him to repair damage to one of the rear wheels. Something which may, or may not, have been linked to the various bits of goat entangled in the wheel arch following an earlier collision.
So having left Mole at 4.00am and got back to our house in Kumasi just after 9.00pm – it’s taken a lot, but I’m actually missing British transport!
Tuesday 18th August
Slightly different activity at work today as we all piled into the SYTO car to the nearby village of Esaase for a ‘workshop’ on youth HIV education and prevention. Sitting in a school clearing in patio garden chairs under a series of canapés, the programme actually offered very little to us volunteers with 95% of it conducted in Twi.
A collection of longish speeches were interspersed with dance performances and poems by youth groups, however they did provoke the best response to any HIV related activity that I’ve witnessed to date – alongside the programme the Ghana Health Service were offering free HIV tests, and with the blessing of the village chief they were absolutely inundated with people of all ages lining up for their test. Hugely encouraging considering the fear and level of stigma usually associated with an examination.
They were also selling condoms at a subsidized rate of one Cedi for a box of 100, so we invested in 500 rubbers between us to distribute amongst the communities on our visits… either that or keep Paris Hilton stocked up for a fortnight – the choice is ours.
In all it was a very long three hours and I can’t help thinking it was an opportunity lost for Tiyah – had we been told about the event in advance we could have got involved talking about our project, offering advice, or anything really.
Wednesday 19th August
We’re actually starting to get our teeth into something other than HIV at work, which makes an interesting change. We’ve got a series of presentations coming up with churches, including one this Sunday. And with churches being what they are some of our HIV messages may not go down too well with the zealots… using a condom? Sacrilege.
So we’re going to be talking about hypertension – which to be honest I hadn’t realised was an issue in Ghana. From what I’ve seen of the diet (aside from copious amounts of oil) and lifestyle I’d say they’re pretty well placed compared to the west, and the laid back lifestyle and laissez fair attitude to life doesn’t seem conducive to people working themselves into acute levels of stress.
Nonetheless as many as one in three Ghanaians in urban areas suffer from high blood pressure, and very few people know anything about the issue.
…tick tock, tick tock… the timebomb that it Mother Theresa exploded again this evening in a big way. Paul brought round a very nice, quiet seeming young professional couple, who will be moving into the compound, and much like that room Theresa was going spare. I’m not sure I’ve witnessed ranting at this exalted level before – a good 15-20 minutes of non-stop chuntering in Twi with the odd word of English thrown in to keep it interesting. At first the ire was aimed at Big Paul, but then the poor young couple took the full force of her outburst – how they felt coming to see their new home and being met by such a tirade of abuse and threats is beyond me – but it was hardly a big welcome mat.
I couldn’t make out much, but picked up ‘trouble, trouble, trouble’, and ‘you no stay in this place’, but what was crystal clear the longer was stay here is that Theresa is one seriously unstable woman. We await moving day tomorrow with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.
Thursday 20th August
So yesterday’s drama was just the undercard to today’s main event… the day didn’t start all that promisingly when instead of going to the market as usual, Theresa stayed at home and proceeded to move every item that she could lay her hands on into the couple’s empty room. Tens of buckets, an old stove, watering cans and even a large kitchen cupboard that Kwame was railroaded into helping her shift were all dumped in the room as an unusual welcoming present.
I’m learning that when she’s in this mood much like an unexploded hand grenade the safest option is to put as much distance as possible between yourself and Theresa, so made myself scare for a couple of hours down at the office. On my return the young lady, Agnes, was there, and setting about cleaning out the room and a lock was being fitted to the door – but with no sign of Theresa t was the calm before the storm…
I was reading in the courtyard when Theresa strode in with her business face on, and the air of intent and impending violence of Viv Richards walking out to bat, or Mike Tyson into the ring. Within seconds I was drawn into the house by shouting in Twi and confronted by the spectacle of Theresa trying to throw all of Agnes’s belongings out of the room and Agnes attempting to restrain her. Here comes the quandary – how much is it my place to intervene in s private dispute when I’m a guest here – and don’t understand the local way of life? So I kind of limply tried to cool things down, but staying on the edge as the argument rolled inside and out of the house.
In the end my mind way made up when the storm hit eleven and things started to turn physical. Theresa started to try and manhandle Agnes out of the room with the poor girl trying to hold her ground leading to pushing, pulling and grappling – I had to put my body between the two and shout at them to stop, which kind of put a pause on things.
Now Theresa is tiny, maybe five feet tall and about six stone, but she’s wiry and as strong as an ox, and a little like the man in the pub that no-one is ever going to fight because you just know he’s prepared to take things one step further than anyone else, she had the strength and willpower that only the desperate or deranged can muster. There would have been only one winner between the two.
Things got calmed to the extent that both women were outside, Theresa sitting under a tree continuing her rant against anything and everything, and Agnes sitting tentatively at a safe distance with me somewhere in the middle. All of us waiting for Big Paul to get back after an urgent call I put in to him (suspiciously absent again when he must have expected it would all kick off). Paul came back presently, and the fall out went off the Richter scale again.
On seeing Paul, Theresa exploded again into full hysterical mode – utterly possessed and the three of them went at it full blast, leaving me once again on the periphery drifting between whether I should be needed to jump in and mediate, and keeping my nose out of their business. That dilema was also decided pretty quickly when out of my sight Paul appeared to deliver a swift kick, knocking Theresa to the floor, I obviously jumped in before the situation could get any worse and the eye of the storm passed.
After all parties separated and the situation diffused to an extent Paul did the responsible thing as ever and disappeared back to church leaving the fallout behind him. Amidst various threats to call the police I decided to take Agnes to the spot for a drink to keep the two women apart which gave Theresa the opportunity to disappear – presumably to seek help or advice elsewhere, leaving a quiet couple of hours before the final act of the day.
Paul and Theresa arrived back separately from church group, Paul turning up with their pastor to try and mediate and calm things down. Further shouting ensued , and the couple eventually left to return to their hotel – I think still determined to move in – either stubborn, principled or plain foolish. I’m not sure which.
In the midst of all of this, Big Paul announced that he’s taken a job working with a start up computer school in the Western Region and will be leaving on Wednesday. Not exactly what we wanted to hear – even if Theresa calms down this time, judging by experience it won’t be long before she goes again.
A tough day for all, my sympathies lie most of all with the couple Agnes and Lovelace – Paul and Theresa both have much to answer for. Through no fault of our own as well we find ourselves in the middle of a soap opera unsure what our role is. Life and culture is of course different here than in the UK, making it difficult to know when boundaries have been crossed, but at the end of the day it’s impossible to ignore it if violence is taking place under our roof!
Friday 21st August
Today was mostly all about not being around the house after the previous two days. In amongst everything we’re still working, so it was a relief to head into the office for a couple of hours in the morning to work on preparing the presentation we’ll be giving to the church on hypertension. Ironic to be talking about high blood pressure with the stress levels in the house at the moment.
After that the girls were going into town with Bernice for a pedicure so I tagged along for the ride and went online whilst they were having their feet massaged. I also caught up with Nanesi, the man I met at the internet café who wants me to partner with him and help recruit UK participants to his volunteer programme – I popped into his office, not because I see myself getting involved, but because he’s a nice guy and I hoped I’d be able to offer him some advice from the volunteers’ eyes – and also a view on marketing, pricing etc.
Not wanting to rush back we wandered around Kumasi for a bit and stopped for a beer to waste a little more time. Thankfully there hasn’t been any repeat of the scenes from yesterday. Theresa didn’t go to the market again today and was sitting on the front step on guard duty when we returned, but sensibly the couple had the foresight to make themselves scare all day.
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