The flight was long. Long, long. I forget how long it is from San Francisco to New York, but from JFK to Accra it’s something like ten hours. I don’t fit on a plane normally, and every time I take a flight I try to remember for the next time that I need to request an exit row. Being cooped up for ten hours is just brutal… I did learn a lesson, though – earplugs are golden. I would put in my earplugs, and then wear my headphones over them turned up pretty high. All I would hear was my music, and though I couldn’t get it loud I didn’t need to because it was all I could hear. I found out that a lot of the team ended up sitting next to Ghanians and having great conversations, but I didn’t get the pleasure. I’m sort of glad, though, because I did, at the end, end up getting a little bit of sleep.
The first thing you notice upon arriving in Africa is, of course, the heat. Ghana’s just above the equator. It’s searing, it’s humid, it’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced (if you grew up in the Bay Area, or southern California, I suppose. I’ve heard the South is pretty hot too). As we arrived I thought that Mike had exaggerated about the heat, as it was only about 75 degrees out; I realized soon that it was about 7:30am and I hadn’t seen nothin’ yet. The second thing that you notice is how friendly the people are. Ghana has a reputation as being one of the safest and most hospitable countries in Africa, and I haven’t been anywhere else, but I can see how it would deserve that. Even the folks who aren’t trying to scam you give you a huge smile, introduce themselves, and try to help you in whatever way they can.
After arriving at the airport in Accra, and clearing customs (which only took a few minutes – though we were saved by Laura, as the immigration papers required we put down the address at which we would be staying and only Laura had thought to jot it down in her notebook), we met up with the four members of the team who had been waiting for us in Ghana. Two of them arrived the day before because they found a cheaper flight, and two of them arrived two weeks before because they flew standby (Kat’s father works for Delta) and that’s just the way it worked out. We also met up with Lawrence, who was our Accra guide/helper/translator/saviour. Literally this man devoted two entire days just to helping us acclimate, get adequate transportation, not get cheated by girls selling SIM cards, etc. He did everything and anything for us and we are so grateful. Lawrence was the man.
From the airport we took our bags out to the trotro* and then drove to a hostel near Accra to wait for Mike, our team leader, who was at the time in the Sudan and would be arriving in Accra the next day. Accra is a major city, and it’s huge – while we got a decent peek of some of the scenery in our ride from the airport to the hostel. Accra is the spitting image of Tijuana, only it seems bigger and more crowded. It’s filthy, everyone is poor, there are miles upon miles of shanty towns. What you find, however, and what I’ve heard from my brother, is that the poverty in developing countries is different from the poverty in the States because it’s so widespread and pervasive. When you’re poor but everyone around you is as well, that’s one thing, but when you’re poor and the rich people walk over you every day and don’t acknowledge your presence that’s something else entirely. (Luckily, later we got to see more of the countryside – and Ghana is freaking beautiful!) We arrived at the hostel and met some other people our age – two from England, one from Scotland, and one from Minnesota. They were in Ghana for a variety of reasons – from doing research for a thesis, to teaching English for four weeks in a local school, to just being on vacation.
Because of the time on the plane and the time changes, it felt like we had been awake for two full days. We still managed to stay up and explore the little section of Accra a bit. Ghana’s town layouts are interesting. All along the main roads are little two feet by three feet shops and stands made out of plywood, selling food or car mufflers or cell phones or herbal medicines or whatever. There are some bigger stores that are about as big as your master bathroom. Almost all side streets leading off of the main road lead to residential areas, where people live in shacks and one-room buildings. They aren’t like the tribes you’ve seen on television in mud huts or anything like that – we aren’t that rural – but it’s alarming, the conditions these people are content, even happy with. Everyone in all stores is extremely helpful and extremely friendly, and everything is, as you would probably expect, extremely cheap. The currency in usage is the Ghana Cedi, which is roughly one-to-one with the US dollar. That night in Accra we went out and had dinner at a chop bar*, and for a hearty meal of rice and chicken and a coca-cola, we paid about 1 Cedi each.
Afterward, we all got placed in our rooms at the hostel, set up our mosquito nets, and knocked out. Jet lag’s a killer.
Grace & Peace,
Elliott Jones
