Lauren, Lucas, Olivia and I departed via trotro from the main market Kotokraba at 9AM. Akhil wanted to sleep in late (yeah, I just called you out buddy). It was a 2 hour ride to Takoradi, the capital city of the Western Region. Along the way, we saw a rubber tree forest and processing plant, along with the much anticipated “Lion King plains” – an endless field of tall grass stretching as far as the eye can see, dotted with solitary trees and cacti. All that was missing was an oddly shaped rock mountain and Elton John. They speak a different language from Fante in the west, and so we had an even more difficult time figuring out how to get our connecting ride to Nzulezo. Eventually we figured it out, and it was another 2.5 hour ride to our destination.
Once we arrived, we were told that there were many groups ahead of us and we would be stuck waiting if we didn’t “open our hands [wallets]”. Fearing that it was noon already and we had a five hour trip back home, we paid the extra 10 GHC ($6) to be included in the next group, a Presbyterian church group from Accra (a 7+ hour ride at least).
The city on stilts was pretty cool, but the canoe ride to the village was the most excellent part. Navigating through the wetland marshes and lakes and hearing the splashing of the oars gave us all a peaceful easy feeling. Then we arrived at the village. No one understands why these people decided to build a village on a lake, but they did a pretty good job of urban planning. The dock leads directly to the main street, lined with shop huts and a school. The houses were off the main road, in compartmented blocks. Everything (streets, houses, stilts) was made of bamboo, and every so often the bamboo needs to be entirely replaced. Very expensive upkeep, but probably worth the price of being one of the largest tourist spots in west Ghana. The sun was setting on our return trip, and it was a very beautiful scene.
When we got back to dry land, we were elated that our adventure had gone so well. The enjoyment disappeared as soon as we tried getting a ride back home. The trotros had stopped running and there weren’t any taxis in the area. The Presbyterians we had travelled with were packing up their air-conditioned, spacious, shiny greyhound bus and graciously offered us a ride for the small price of saying a prayer for everyone’s safe return. Thinking of the bumpy dirt roads that I would get to experience in a bus with actual suspension, I diligently prayed. Everyone on the bus was super friendly, and we had a great time making friends and swapping stories and laughing at the terrible Ghanaian films all the way back to Cape Coast. It was an excellent adventure.
A side note: most establishments in Ghana are named after some Christian phrase, i.e. “Blood of Jesus Spot [Bar]” or “Our Holy Saviour Barber Salon” or “Believe and Be Saved General Store”. While walking around looking for the trotro terminal to get to Nzulezo, we happened across the “John Lennon Spot,” proving that in at least one instance John Lennon is, in fact, bigger than Jesus.
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