Rainbolt Travel Diary

Thanksgiving in Ghana.... More specifically, Thanksgiving in Accra, the capital of Ghana. We packed Wednesday night checking to make sure that we had our passports, which are now filled with entry visas, tourist visas, re-entry visas, work permits, and green cards. Thursday was a half-day; it felt weird to be working on Thanksgiving morning, instead of peeling potatoes or baking rolls. We loaded onto the coaster along with half of the compound, and headed off to the airport.

When we landed here in August, it was dark by the time we left the airport and I think that might have been a very good thing. Lagos doesn’t offer much that might grow on you. Once again, we passed fancy restaurants and car dealerships, and apartment buildings only to cross a bridge and see an entire village built on stilts over the lagoon. The key word is village, no electricity, no running water, and no barbwire fences.

The key to successful travel in West Africa seems to be paper work. We filled out a card to let the Nigerian authorities know we were leaving. One for each one of us with addresses of employer, passport numbers, birthplace, shoe size, favorite ice cream flavor and the date of our last dental checkup. We left that card with a guy who wrote more notes on it, looked at every page of our passport and then attacked it with a rubber stamp. We got on the plane and received another card asking for the same information for the Ghana Immigration officials. Earlier in October, we had given all the information on a different form along with cold hard cash and photographs to the Ghanaian Embassy to get an entry visa. So at last count, there were three sets of documents that had our travel itinerary in the hands of government officials. I have to say that it was quite a secure feeling sitting on that plane knowing that if anybody need to get a hold of us or find us for any reason all they would have to do is contact the proper authorities. The wait in the immigration line in Ghana was longer than the actual plane flight and the stamping was done with more rhythm and authority than at the departure terminal.

Once we passed the through the careful scrutiny of the Immigration and Customs officials we were quite surprised to find the hotel shuttle waiting for us. We began to wonder if we had somehow crossed into a different continent. Having a shuttle there and not waiting for it? How would we learn patience if stuff like that keeps happening. We didn’t have to worry long about that because the shuttle took us to a different hotel than the one we booked. It seems that there were technical difficulties with our room and they had transferred us to a different hotel. Most times that would be ok, but this place had no pool, no restaurant in sight and was right across the street from a large parking lot. Not a very inviting environment with two antsy kids and several hours to bedtime.


We convinced the driver to take us to the original hotel, and while the kids and I had a mineral, mine was in the form of a large green bottle but more on that later, Gina and Maria exercised their skills in patience and got us two rooms in the hotel. A hotel with several restaurants, an ice cream parlor, and cable TV. We were officially on vacation.

That night we ate at an African restaurant next to the beach. Doesn’t that just sound good? Eating Thanksgiving dinner outside with the ocean in the background? I tackled the local specialty, peanut chicken soup with foofoo. If you could only eat one meal a day, and you wanted to feel full all day, you need to eat foofoo. It is like a dumpling on steroids. It is mashed potatoes with out the fillers. It is thick, dense, and an acquired taste. It also goes quite nicely with the Ghanaian form of Star beer. The national beer of Ghana comes in a large green bottle, just like Star, It is drinkable if served ice cold and it is called “Club”. The similarities go right down to the label. The kids ate, but it was primarily the desire to visit the ice cream parlor and not a deep appreciation of the local cuisine.


The next morning we hired a driver to take us to the National museum. There are stoplights and road signs and people actually follow the rules of the road but it is still not the type of driving left to amateurs. We had great time at the museum, but it was purely accidental. After coughing up 130,000 Cedes to get into the museum, all in small bills, Gina asked for a guide. She was asking for a map, but we got an actual person guide, who with a great deal of pride walked us through the entire museum with stories and explanations. After an exercise in patience while we waited for our driver to return, we retired to the pool for fries and a cocktail. Then it was dinner at the Monsoon, no wait we didn’t have reservations, so it was dinner at Frankie’s, no wait they only serve burgers and falafels, so it was dinner at a Chinese restaurant that served really big shrimp.

The next day we tackled the local craft market. Great woodcarvings, kinte cloth, drums, and jewelry, but over aggressive, touchy, and persistent salesmen. One young man in his effort to get Gina to buy a dress actually put it on and modeled it for us. Jacob and I got an education in African football as we bargained for a Ghana National Team soccer jersey. Gina made some great purchases, which she will pass on to Santa.
Hard bargain sounds something like this…
“Oh poppa look at these beautiful necklaces..very beautiful.. I give you a very good price.”
“Yes these are nice. What is your first price?”
“I give you my best because you are my first customer. 60, 000” (Which is about 5 dollars)
“That is too much for me. Thank you.” Then you walk away.
“ What will you pay?”
“20,000.” At which point we both laugh and I tell him, “Isn’t this the game you say way high and I say something incredibly low and we continue chat until we agree.”
More laughs and our necklace seller says, “That is right let us talk.”
Then Emily steps in and wants to leave because there are way to many people talking to her and touching her and trying to get her to buy. So I tell the man, “I have to go, thank you.”
“Ok, Poppa you win 20, 000.” So, I got two necklaces for a dollar a piece. I felt pretty good but you have to get Jacob to demonstrate, because he is getting very good at it.

While Gina, Jacob, and Maria continued to perfect their bargaining skills. Emily and I sat in the shade outside the market and watched the coconut vendor work. This is not a job for the timid. It involves a strong wrist, great hand-eye- coordination, and a very sharp machete. The coconuts are still green and they are piled off to the side. The guy picks one up and whacks off the bottom so it will sit flat on the table. Then he chops pieces off the top so the coconut looks like a sharpened pencil. When the coconut is sold, he chops off the sharpened point and the customer drinks the liquid inside. The coconut is then handed back to machete guy who at great risk to his own fingers and hand chops it into quarters so the inside can be scooped out. I think this guy would be a big hit at dinnertime around the Harborview Manor. Coconut goes great with White Chicken Chili!


We then headed to the coffin shop. In Ghana when you leave you, leave in style. No pine boxes. You can be buried in a cell phone, a rooster, or a Coca-Cola bottle. All hand built to your specifications. We snapped a some pictures and decided that was enough culture for one day so we headed back to the pool to start resting up for the next battle with immigration lines.

It felt good to get off the compound for a few days. We felt like we could walk around, and as we drove through Accra we noticed a lot fewer walls and less barbwire. The city is different but it is still the same; buildings needed some upkeep, cars that are long past their useful lives still sputtering down the road, shanty towns next to large homes, and crippled beggars in the market. It is very strange to rent a car and get a driver along with it. You see things a bit differently when your tip of a little more than 2 dollars can actually buy a person a full meal. You certainly know that your life is changing when you walk into your two bedroom flat and all of you say, “It is good to be home.”