Summer 2010 in Ghana

Saturday, July 24 - Sunday, July 25, 2010

We awoke this morning at 6am, mostly because all of our Rastafarian friends (who had been sleeping on mats around our tent and inside their courtyard) were awake.  Kelly immediately noticed that her small purse, which contained her camera, wallet, and Annabel’s wallet, and which had been in the tent when we went to sleep, was missing.  With the help of a half-dozen rastas, the five of us scoured the beach and the tiki bars that were scattered along the beach, but to no avail.  We decided to take a break after a half hour or so and got breakfast at Big Milly’s, the small cabana at the end of the beach, and the biggest establishment in Kokrobite.  They served surprisingly good omelettes and “Cinnamon Toast”, which was kind of like extra-squishy cinnamon-y French Toast.  The meal was quite a relief, seeing as we hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime the day before (due to traffic, and the lack of dining options around here). 

When we returned to our tent to read and relax on the beach, Faisal informed us that he and his friends had found two huge knife-marks in the sides of our tent, which, upon examination, were easily visible.  Someone must have cut it in our sleep and stolen Kelly’s purse.  Yikes.  Serves us right for sleeping in a 5 cedi tent on a random beach in Ghana.  Still, we were none too pleased with the startling resolution to the mystery. 

For both lunch and dinner, we headed slightly off the beach to an Italian restaurant whose sign read “The Best in Town, Probably in the World”.  It turned out to be pretty darn good.  It was run by a real-life Italian and his wife, they had actually fresh mozzarella (the first time we’ve seen cheese in months), and I got a hot chocolate that tasted like pure, creamy, melted chocolate, unlike the unsweetened Milo powder I’ve learned to avoid.  The owner’s wife, who works as the waitress, gave us fresh water ice cubes without us even asking for them (this was also our first ice cube experience here), and we indulged in all sorts of delicious bruschetta, pizza, Panini, and pastas (there was one baked ziti-esque dish with egg and bolognese sauce that was a huge hit).

After dinner we headed back to Big Milly’s, because it was “Reggae Night,” although the show was considerably less exciting than it had been the day before, and there were fewer tourists around.  In true form and exhausted as we always seem to be here, we headed back to our tent and went to bed.

Although we had no valuables in our tent this time, the trail of tears continued and our slumber did not last long.  Just after 4am, Connie, who hadn’t been feeling well, began vomiting on the cloth floor of the tent.  We took care of her as best we could, and she said she felt better and just wanted to sleep.  Unfortunately, the stench in the tent was unbearable, and there was no chance of fitting five people in it again without getting near the vomit.  Will resolved to go back to sleep as best he could in the tent, but Annabel, Kelly, and I determined we would not be able to sleep in the close space, hot air, and the smell.  And there was nowhere else to sleep, except perhaps directly on the sand, which was quite dirty. So at 4:30am, we headed to the small cabana next to the rastas’ house. 

A few tourists and rastas were still awake chatting and nursing various drinks, but we were far too tired to join them.  We sat there on a few stools aimlessly until suddenly a portly Swedish man, who evidently owned the large house behind the bar, invited us in for an impromptu drumming lesson.  We had no idea why he was still awake, and his speech was bizarrely slow and mellow, but he was very hospitable.  We sat down on some couches in his entryway, he instructed three Ghanaian men (who appeared to be friends/employees/professional drummers) to retrieve the “Ewe drum set” for us, and in no time, Ansel was explaining the basic techniques of Ghanaian drumming.  We were somewhat delirious with fatigue, but luckily he gave us incredibly simple beats to play in repetition, while he and his Ghanaian friends played much more complicated ones over them.  We played for about an hour and a half, and as the sun rose he concluded the lesson, blessing us and hoping that we’d enjoyed “sharing the magic of music” with him.  We smiled, and headed to Big Milly’s for some breakfast.