Famous Last Words

WHAT A WEEKEND!

With orientation over, and classes not quite in full swing yet, several students decided to take advantage of our first free weekend. A trip was planned to go stay at the Green Turtle Eco-Lodge in Takoradi. I was hesitant at first when asked if I wanted to go. I had initially said no, as I had worries about such an impromptu trip in an environment so new to me. For those of you that have not met the controlling side of me, I am all about having a plan. I am the kind of person that shows up to the airport 4 hours before my flight...Ok, 5 hours.

After the travelers had left to catch a cab to the bus stop, I found myself recalling the words of my mother, "you only live once Dev, take big bites". That was it. I had my backpack packed in 30 seconds and I was out the door running to meet up with the others. That day the part of me that longed for control did not get to drive. I was throwing caution to the wind. (Thats probably not what you had in mind when you said, "take big bites" huh mum?)

The group of us split up and stuffed ourselves into two cabs. The cabby was nice enough to allow us to stuff four people in the back seat, but informed us that we would have to "dodge". This meant that one of us would have to duck down every time there was a police officer around, as it is not legal in Ghana to over stuff cars. I found this shocking, as there seem to be no other driving laws. After all, you don't even need an inspection sticker, or a license, to drive! Regardless, "dodging" became a fun game for the 30 minute taxi ride to the bus stop. When the cabby screamed out "DODGE!" Michelle, the smallest, would duck down and Michael and I, seated on each side of her, would throw our arms over her as if she was an arm rest. We would all then celebrate our great scam upon its success.

At the bus station we learned that, despite the fact that the STC bus has a schedule, it does not follow it. Typical Ghana, always testing your patience. We were able to hop on a bus around 3pm, which was just fine by us. The bus was pretty dirty, as we expected it to be. We also noted pretty quickly that there was no restroom, or washroom as they call it here. Oh but do not fret, they pulled over every once and a while to let people pee on the side of the road!

Due to traffic, it took us nearly 6 hours to reach Takoradi. I can't say that the drive bothered me, as I was fascinated by the scene just beyond my dirty window. Once in Takoradi, the search was on for two taxis that could take us to our final destination. We made a huge fuss about the GH 30.00 the taxi drivers were trying to charge us, only to give in after 15 minutes of attempted negotiations. And after making such a huge fuss about the GH 30.00, we found out just why it was that the cost was so high.

The road to the Green Turtle Eco-Lodge was worst than one you would see in a Jeep, or Hummer, commercial. Rain had pushed around the dirt revealing large jagged rocks and creating huge crevasses and mounds of dirt. The only thing fit to drive on this road was a monster truck, and here we were in our tiny dinged up taxi, with four of us stuffed in the back seat. The driver paused as the the road came into sight. A villager walking by stopped to laugh, as if to say "you are doomed".  The taxi driver scanned the road ahead with his eyes, took a deep breath, and went for it.

I genuinely felt bad for the driver and his car as it stalled out repeatedly and slammed down on the jagged rocks, only to go over a two foot drop into a huge puddle moments later. The road went on like this for seemingly forever. At this point, we were miles away from any civilization and the foggy road only grew narrower. Had it not been for the headlights, there would have been only pitch darkness. All the while, there was a constant stream of American music streaming through the radio. Will Smiths, "Getting Jiggy With It", played through the radio, acting as a constant reminder of home as we drove further and further away from anything familiar to us.

Our fear soon grew into senseless laughter. With each bump in the road we held our breaths and upon conquering it (hardly) we would cheer out, only to have the headlights, seconds later, reveal a far more daunting obstacle ahead. Michael, seated in the front, would follow up every one of our chants of encouragement with the line, "famous last words".

This picture does the road justice.

After an hour or so of going on like this, we finally arrived at our destination. Grateful that the driver had sacrificed his taxi for us instead of  kicking us out five kilometers back, we tipped him kindly.  We all watched as the taxi pulled away for the long journey home, leaving us in nearly complete darkness. There was a glow of a lantern perched on a bar several feet away. Everyone that worked at the lodge, we would soon learn, was fast asleep. The only people in sight were four drunk stragglers playing pool by the bar.

Wittle Puppies by the bar. I loved them.

Donavon, a 35 year old South African man would act as our impromptu guide and bartender for the evening. He had purchased several bottles of whiskey before the bar closed, which he rationed out to us weary travelers as he told us his fascinating life story. Fascinating may even be an understatement... if that is even possible. 

Donavon, a regular at the Green Turtle Lodge, designs and builds mines all around the world, but predominantly in Africa. Back in South Africa, Donavon owns and lives on a wild life farm. When I asked him whether or not he had any lions on his farm, he informed me that he does. Not only does Donavon have lions on his farm, but he also has an eight month old pet lion living in his home with him. You can imagine my excitement when I learned of this.

As the evening came to a close, Doavon kindly showed us to our wet tents where we would be spending the evening. As I lay in my tent, with only a towel beneath me and a mosquito net as a poor excuse for a blanket, I listened to the roar of the ocean. I kept thinking with the sound of each coming wave, that this would be the wave that swept up the beach and engulfed my tent. I must have fallen asleep at some point, though it never felt like it.

Our tents in the light of day.

Upon awaking, I got my first look at the area. It was truly beautiful in spite of the rain. I found my way to the bar, where I gladly gobbled down some eggs and toast. This was my first meal in the past 24 hours and boy did it taste good. For whatever reason, the bread in Ghana is amazing. 

Even with the rain, we all made the most of our day. Some splashed in the water, while others walked up and down the beach discovering neighboring villages. It was never really about the destination anyway; it was about the Journey. As night fell, we all cuddled up to the bar were we socialized with the rest of the travelers at the lodge, most of which were in Ghana doing community service. There at the bar I met yet another fascinating man. This 30, or 40 year old man, Carlos, had ridden his motorcycle all the way from Madrid to Takoradi. It is amazing the people you meet in your travels. Everyone has their story.

After having a huge bonfire on the beach, I called it a night and headed for bed. We had a long journey back to Accra to make in the morning. At 6am our taxis arrived at the lodge. The tired bunch of us piled in and braced ourselves for the long ride back to the bus station.

Donavon tending to the fire he made us. 

Upon boarding our bus in Takoradi, we found that there was a man preaching at the front of the bus. Initially, I assumed that this man was just trying to sell something to the people on the bus prior to its departure, but when the bus pulled away from the "station" the man was still on it, preaching away. The man continued to preach and sing for an entire hour and a half! The people on the bus really started to get into it too! I was shocked. Was there a Sunday mass really taking place on a bus?

When the man finally finished up, I turned to the young Ghanian man next to me and asked if every bus has a preacher on Sunday. I was shocked to find that most buses do. The man then turned to me and asked bluntly "do you believe in god?". I paused a moment before responding with a safe and honest answer,  "I don't know what I believe, but I hope to know someday". The man nodded, taking it as an acceptable answer. I breathed a sigh of relief, as the man preaching moments ago had said with fire and passion that, "NO atheist will ride this bus!". A few moments went by and then, all of a sudden, the man seated next to me turned to me and said, quite simply, "I hope you find God in Ghana".

I loved that he said that.