Once upon a time...

There were three girls named Maggie, Whitney, and Holley. They decided that they would tackle four countries in West Africa in 9 days for an epic adventure. And what an adventure they had...


It's going to take me a few days to actually recount everything that happened in our crazy, intense, emotional, ridiculous, and just all around insane week. Bare with me :-) I'm just starting to process it all.

DAY 1: Thursday, October 8

Starting location: Accra, Ghana

Intended ending location: Lomé, Togo

Ending location: Accra, Ghana

Modes of transportation: feet

Our plans to leave on Thursday afternoon were foiled by the papers that all three of us had due at 12 noon, the midterm (if you can call it that) Holley and I had Thursday afternoon, and the fact that Holley was violently ill. Plans to leave were postponed until Friday.

DAY 1, TAKE 2: Friday, October 9

Starting location: Accra, Ghana

Intended ending location: Cotonou, Benin

Ending location: Accra, Ghana

Modes of transportation: taxi

Our plans to leave on Friday were foiled by the fact that Hols was really sick. We forced her to go to the hospital on Thursday night, and she returned diagnosed with probable typhoid. Plans to leave were postponed until Saturday. Whit and I spent the day riding in cabs to several different bus stations, trying to get tickets for the next day. We arrived at the right one at 4:10 to be told that they closed at 4. We'd have to get tickets the next day.

DAY 1, TAKE 3 : Saturday, October 10

Starting location: Accra, Ghana

Traveled through: Lomé, Togo

Ending location: Cotonou, Benin

Modes of transportation: taxi, bus, tro-tro

We finally set off on our adventure on Saturday at 5 am. Since we couldn't get tickets on Friday, we had to get to the bus station an hour early to try to beg for a few seats. Our trip to the bus station was uneventful, we managed to get a few tickets, and the bus left on time. It was flawless!

Our bus ride took us to Aflao, the city at the Ghana-Togo border. We got off the bus, went to the border patrol, got our passports stamped, and successfully crossed into Togo!

First impression of Togo: lots of movement! There were a ton of cabs and taxi-motos (motorcycles that are used as taxis) with their drivers all clamoring to get our business. Funny thing was, they were all clamoring in French! It shouldn't have been surprising, seeing as the official language of all countries bordering Ghana is French, but it was a little shocking to someone who had never been in a country where a different language was primarily spoken. I was the only one of the three of us who spoke French, and I haven't studied it for a year and a half, so the beginning was a little rocky. I got much better as the week went on, but at the start it was pretty difficult. We found a cab driver who spoke a little English, so between his English and my French we managed to let him know of the bus station we were trying to go to. Or, at least, we thought he understood where we wanted to go.

We were driving along the coast in Togo, and the beaches there are the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. The sand is white, the water is blue, there are a few gorgeous palm trees, a few fishermen with little canoes exploding with color. It was gorgeous and a wonderful welcome to Togo.

My pics of the beach are all pretty blurry because they were from the beach, but you can still see the beauty.

I'm not quite sure if our cab driver just didn't understand us or if he just had his own agenda, but he did not get us to our bus station. The ride to the station should have been about five minutes, but the cab driver kept pulling over. He would stop along the road next to random cars that apparently were driven by his friends, then try to negotiate a price for us to take the car to Cotonou. The prices he was coming up with were much more than we intended to pay, and we were not about to get in a car with a random Togolese man to take us to Benin. We were quite vocal about this to our cab driver, but he kept stopping to negotiate with other cars! I tried to tell him in French a zillion times that we wanted to take a bus, but he would just laugh, leave one car, drive about a hundred yards to the next one, then get out and start negotiating. After my exclamation that he was making me upset did nothing, we told him that if he did not take us right to the bus station we were not going to pay the 1000CFAs we had agreed upon as a price. At this point, we were sure that he knew exactly what we were talking about, and the next time he stopped by the beach to talk to a friend, we got out of the car and walked away. He followed us to demand money, but we kept walking and told him that we were not going to pay him when he did not take us to the right place. He promptly got back in his cab and started to follow us, so we crossed the street and kept walking, waiting for another cab. When we didn't see one and noticed that he had turned around and was following us again, this time with friends, we cut through a construction site by the road where he couldn't drive through. When we reached the other side, he pulled up again, and this time got out with a policeman.

Let me just pause to say that as scary as this all sounds while writing it, and as awful as it would have been in New York, I never felt unsafe. Afterwards, it was actually quite comical, and I truly don't think that these men had any bad intentions.

So the policeman, who was a tall Togolese man wearing an intimidating blue outfit and round hat, started rambling to me in French. I asked him if he spoke any English, and he exclaimed, "No! I do not speak English! You are in Togo! We speak French!" I laughed a bit, and tried very hard to make the policeman understand our situation. To him, it probably sounded like "This man say he take us to bus station, but then he talk to friends! We do not want to talk to friends, we want bus station! He try to take us car, but we do not want car! We want bus! We say we not pay him if he not take us, but he not take us! So, we get out and tell him we not pay. He not take us to bus station, so we not pay him." The policeman was actually very nice and agreeable. He listened, told us that we had already passed the station, and we still had to pay the man. We decided that arguing with him with my limited French and in a foreign country was probably not the best idea (although arguing with policemen is probably never the best idea), paid the cab driver, and walked away. 

We stumbled upon a different bus station that had some very kind people who took pity on us and helped us out. They told us that the last buses to Cotonou had already left for the day but we could take a tro-tro (called bush-taxis in other countries) for a cheap price. They tried to explain to us how to get to the tro-tro, but after a few moments of us looking incredibly confused (this was all still in French), the guys laughed and walked us into the market where the tro-tro was waiting. They left us inside, where we had to wait two hours in the heat before the tro-tro left. In those two hours, we made friends with Fred, a Nigerian who spoke English. We informed him that we were sisters from the US, our parents were Russian, and our names were Mishka (Whitney), Zorla (Holley), and Gershanka (me--but I didn't like my name, so everyone called me Shanka). He said our names were very difficult and he could not remember them. He was obsessed with Whitney and said he wanted to marry her--he was very disappointed when we told him she was already married. He loved her stature and how thin she was. I was called fat and told to run every day for 6 months to be thin like Whitney, and Holley was laughed at for eating. Needless to say, Fred was not our favorite person in the world. Hols and I gave him the cold shoulder, and Whit finally convinced him that he had been rude and had upset us and that he should leave. Fred finally left, sad that Whitney would not give him anything to remember her by. Oh, Fred the Nigerian. So silly.

The tro-tro finally left, and the trip that should have been 3 hours took about 5 and a half. The ride wasn't bad, because the scenery was beautiful. We were rather crammed in the tro-tro though. Whitney couldn't even put her legs in front of her because of lack of space, so she spent the trip sitting sideways. There was also this strange voodoo lady who was sitting in front of Whit and kept turning around and yelling things at people selling things on the street. Another lady in front of Holley and I seemed to get bored and decided to listen to music on her phone. However, she did not have headphones, so she kindly played music for us all. Her taste was unexpected--she seemed to really like "When a man loves a woman," which she played about 6 times. It was quite amusing.

Holley and Whit on the tro-tro.

Finally, as darkness was falling, we pulled into Cotonou, the capital city of Benin. We were a little nervous about getting to our hotel, but the guys driving our tro-tro were incredibly kind. We showed them on the map in our guidebooks where we wanted to go. They took the guidebook under a light and about 10 other guys surrounded them. They all started shouting and pointing in different directions, taking pauses to look at the map more. We kind of stood to the side, waiting for them to figure out where exactly we should go. Finally, the two guys from the tro-tro came back and told us they would take us to the hotel. We gratefully got back into the tro-tro and they took us right to the door of the hotel. We tried to ask them about where we should get a bus the next morning. They weren't sure, but the driver gave us his name and phone number and told us to call him any time, day or night, and he would try to help us. They were so nice!

Hotel numero uno.

We checked into our hotel and convinced the manager that we were sisters and loved each other so it was okay for us to share a bed. Then we found a bank to get a bit of money, and went across the street to a little diner-like dinner place. We each ordered huge water bottles, individual pizzas, and french fries. It was our first meal of the day and we were all getting pretty dehydrated, so it was fantastic. Our first day came to a close with us falling into bed, exhausted from day one of our adventure.

And that was just the beginning.

If you have any questions, it is your right to ask them NOW.

This weekend we went to Kumasi, the second largest city in Ghana! The trip was utterly exhausting but it we really cool to see another big city here. It seems that no two cities here are alike. Accra and Kumasi are different like New York and San Francisco are different--both are big and have lots of people, but they just feel different.

Kumasi feels much more small-town, although it is really spread out. It's really hilly, so you get some good views driving around. Although I've never been to Europe, the views reminded me of pics I have seen of cities in Europe, like in Italy. It was so pretty, especially compared to Accra. The streets were wider and there were not nearly as many people walking the streets. There also were not nearly as many little street vendors, which made it feel more homey. Kumasi is the home of the Ashanti tribe, a tribe that used to rule most of Ghana. They speak Twi!

After a five hour bus ride and a quick stop at the hotel, we went to a local craft market for shopping and lunch. We only had a half hour to walk around and see stuff, so I didn't buy anything, but then we got to have a good traditional West African lunch (lots of jollof rice, red-red, and pineapple!). After lunch, we went to the Ashanti King's palace! We got a tour of the original house that was built as the palace during colonial times. The house has now been turned into a museum where we got to see some artifacts, pictures, and some things they still use today, like the King's crystal cups used to entertain visitors. Sadly, we were not entertained by the King. He now lives in the house next door, which I'm sure is much newer. He does not meet with people unless they have some sort of special appointment, or unless it is at a festival. We saw a ton of pictures though--the Kings here wear so much gold! We weren't allowed to take pictures of anything inside, so I can't share visuals, but it was pretty cool.

After the King's palace, we went to a stool village. In the local tribes here, stools (like sitting stools) are used as a sign of power. The King's have gold stools. Other people just have them for fun and for the meaning they hold. The stools are made of wood and have some sort of symbol that they make. I'll get a picture of the stool that Holley bought in the village. You can see the symbol under the part you sit on--her's means "Unity."

Sunday we got up and went on adventures in the bus! We went to a local area for a workshop on shoe making! A guy showed us how he makes leather shoes for men. He was stretching the leather over the little shoe model, nailing it in, and adding the sole. Funny thing is, the sole says "Made in Italy." One of the girls asked him about that, and he said that people will not buy shoes made in Ghana. Our associate director, who is from Philly, broke in about how sad that was and how much she loves wearing things made in Ghana. The guy laughed, but said that hardly anything here says "Made in Ghana." Interesting...

Then we went to the market. Oh, the market. There seemed to be a few less people than the one in Accra, and it was a bit less stuff, but still absolutely insane. It was like a maze. We luckily had a few of our CRAs to lead us about and make sure we didn't get too lost. I bought some kente cloth, which is woven with bright threads into strips of geometric designs, then woven together to make bigger pieces. Kente cloth is what is used for the King's outfits. All of it is gorgeous--I might buy more.

Weirdest experience at the market: trying to find my way back to the bus with Whit and Alex, walking through an alley with stairs, and coming out in a meat market. There was a full dead, skinned pig with it's snout still on sitting in front of me. I thought the smell was going to make me sick. All three of us were vegetarians too. Needless to say, we looked down and walked as fast as possible out of the market.

The best part of the whole trip was actually the ride home. It was long (another 5 hours) but it was beautiful. We were driving through much more rural areas than we have seen, and we were just surrounded by green. Green green green. Ghanaian trees don't come in clusters or with more of their own kind. They are all over the place and of all different types. Some of them stand up really tall above the rest, others are really tiny and close to the ground. They aren't nearly as dense as trees back home, so you can really see their shapes. They are amazing. We got to see a couple of mountains with gorgeous tan rock walls going down the side, surrounded by more and more green. As it got dark, we could see the outlines of the trees on the top of the mountains. I tried to get some pictures, but nothing would capture it. Just trust me--if you ever come here, you'll want to see these views.

In other news, this week is full of midterms and papers. Then, on Thursday, my week long fall break starts! Holley, Whitney and I are traveling together, and we have quite ambitious plans (trying to go to four countries in nine days). Crazy? I'm so excited! :-D

Trying to capture the sights from the bus.

Peacocks outside the Ashanti King's Palace!

Mountains

Pictures don't do it justice.

Nice to be nice

Long time, no post! What have I been up to the past week...

Well, the past week has been a mixture of homesickness, physical sickness, and fun! At least fun was in there. Things that I am missing from home: my mom's homemade pizza, cheese, cranberry juice, and the NYC subway. And of course, hugs from my family and friends. It's weird being here now. A lot of the glamour has worn off and it's sort of setting in that this is our home. It's also weird because we're almost half way through our trip! People said the time would fly and it really is...

Last week, we went out a couple of nights and ran into some kids from Semester at Sea. Semester at Sea is a program that I think is run by UVA and that involves basically taking a cruise ship around the world for the semester. It sounds amazing. The program was stopped in Accra for five days or so, and the students had asked some locals for good places to go out. We noticed the random surge in young obrunis, and they mistook us for part of their program. It was a funny experience, meeting students who had just arrived in Accra. They looked like we did 7 weeks ago--bright eyed, talking only to each other, paying wayyy too much for everything. It was weird though, feeling like we had been here long enough to see who knew at least a bit of what was going on, and who was pretty clueless. Not trying to judge--like I said, we were there before. It's amazing how much 7 weeks will teach you.

Last Monday we went to the festival for the 100th birthday of Kwame Nkrumah (1st president of Ghana). We were old that it was going to be hugeeee and we had to be there at 8:30. So, on our day off of school, we all left our dorm at 8 and took cabs to the Kwame Nkrumah Mausoleum. We got there before 8:30, walked in, and saw that there were still chairs open! We grabbed some sweet seats in the shade, because it was already getting hot, and settled down to wait for the start.

Well, we waited for about 2 hours, before being told that we were sitting in the chairs of the Ashanti Chiefs and should probably move. We switched over to some sunny chairs where a whole group of kids was sitting with their school. We asked if we could sit with them and they said yes. After sitting quietly behind us for about 30 seconds, they started asking us questions. The initial questions of "Where are you from?" led to a host of conversations, about school, life, and games. The girls taught us some hand games, similar to "Ms. Mary Mac" and started speaking to me in French. It was hard to understand their French, partially because I haven't spoken it in quite a while, but also because they were speaking with a completely different accent. They thought we were really funny and LOVED it when we took pictures of them. One of them wanted my phone number, but I wasn't so sure about having an 12 year old friend to call up. Instead, we took more pictures!

Around noon, the parade (which apparently did start at 8, but not at the Mausoleum) started to arrive. The parade included the entrance of chiefs from various tribes from around the country. The chiefs would walk in in gorgeous outfits, with huge beautiful umbrellas being held over their heads and a party surrounding them. There were also roller skating troops, drummers, and about a zillion guys dressed in bright colors and walking on stilts. We decided to find some shade to watch the parade entrance from (4 hours of African sun can be pretty intense). While we were watching and taking pictures, we noticed a strange thing: people around us were taking pictures of US. It was very weird, because in Ghana it's considered rude to take people's pictures without asking their permission. This rule doesn't seem to apply to pictures of foreigners though. We were pretty tired and hungry, so we tried to turn away from some of the pictures. Our fans would simply shamelessly walk around so they could see our faces again, and take more pictures. When I told one guy who insisted on taking my picture that I didn't want him to, he informed me that "it's nice to be nice!" It was rather annoying, but I guess they don't seen obrunis every day.

After hours of listening to amazing drum performances, watching dancers, talking to guys on stilts, and being taught games by children, we got to see President John Atta Mills speak! He gave a quick little speech, but everyone was freaking out at being able to see him.

So that was one cool cultural experience I got to have recently!

Other things that have been fun:

Beacon House! Beacon House is an orphanage nearby that Whitney and I have started volunteering at. I'm still going to City of Refuge, but the orphanage is a lot closer, so I can go more often. I've only gone one time, because this week I was sick, but it was amazing. The kids there are in some way special needs kids because they have all been abused physically, psychologically, or sexually. One of the directors, who is probably the nicest person alive, was telling us a story about a little girl they found as an infant in an abandoned bag by a river. They apparently thought she would be blind because when they found her maggots were eating her eyes. Luckily, she has made a full recovery and is now healthy. That's just one of the many stories, some of which are that bad and some of which are not.

Whit and I got to basically just play with the kids for hours. They range from about a year to maybe 12 or 14 and there are over 30 of them there. They live in a big house with a group of Aunties who take care of them. There is a school room in the house where the older ones go to school each day. They have a trampoline in the back yard and a little sandy play area. They also have a cabinet full of board games and a bunch of books.

The funny part about all of that is that the kids didn't really want to play with us--they just wanted to be held. The younger kids especially never wanted to be put down (which is hard when there are about 10 of them who want you to pick them up constantly. We would compromise and sit with three of the kids on our laps (we made a rule that only three kids at a time) and the rest kind of just holding on to our arms. We got to read a few books and talk to some of the older girls, who loved to play with our hair. I got to hold a baby named Mary for a long long time. I thought she would be getting bored because I was just holding her, but every time I tried to put her down, she would wrap her legs and arms around me like a monkey and hold on with all of her little might.

Ah, it's making me want to cry just writing about it. The kids are so beautiful and so adorable and they just love to be with people. Conclusions from my first visit there:
1. If anyone is interested in adopting a Ghanian child, I have the spot for you.
2. Everyone should give my parents new baby clothes for Christmas, because their presents from might be in the form of African children!

Me and my new friends, the school children.

Hugeeee drum at the festival.

Beautiful women. Not sure what their dress signifies.

Men on stilts!

Chief under umbrella.