Kumasi and Meeting the Children

[If you prefer to read the 'Meeting the Children' part first skip below – it's more tear-at-your-heartstrings...,]

From Cape Coast Josh and I travelled to Kumasi, the capitol of the Ashanti Region and the second largest city in the country. Kumasi reminded me of a less congested, more relaxed Accra. Traffic was manageable, the streets were less crowded and the smell coming out of the drains was not nearly as strong.

Josh suggested that we stay at the Guestline Lodge because he has spent a night there last year and said it would be inexpensive. Now, remember what I said about expectations... After hearing the suggestion I checked out the Lodge in our Brant Ghana guidebook and the description painted a interesting picture:

This backpacker-oriented lodge attracts plenty of travelers but receives mixed feedback, with the broad consensus being that it is very friendly but the rooms could be cleaner & seem poor value at the asking price...

Perfect!

Upon check-in we were greeted by a nice Indian man, whom we assumed was the hotel owner. We made small talk and were surprised to find out that he was actually born and raised in Kumasi – a fact stated on his passport, which he insisted we examined.

Our room turned out to be as advertised: not too clean. The paint on the walls, which I assume used to be white, was now a grayish-brown color and there was a thick layer of dust and dead bug on everything. And the bathroom! The sink swayed every time we turned the faucet on and off, so much so that we thought it may fall off the wall. At first we couldn't find our toilet seat, but we soon realized it had been left in the 'under the sink' position and in order to turn on the shower you had to stick your hand into the wall and turn a release valve on the pipe. Like I said...perfect [Note: I am not being sarcastic.]

We had dinner at Vic Baboo's Cafe, a small, diner-style restaurant also owned by the same family who owns Guestline. The menu very diverse – Ghanian, Indian, pizza and hamburgers – which came in handy the following night because we were both craving a hamburger. I know, I know... I travelled all the way to Ghana and I chose to eat a hamburger. Well, I've eaten rice or some combination of grains and plantains every night since, so let me have it.

After dinner, things at the Lodge took a turn for the epic... Josh and I were sitting on the bed, both reading. From out of nowhere we heard a HUGE CRASH! I mean HUGE! Immediately I looked out the window, thinking that something had fallen off of the building into the street below. Josh, on the other hand went straight for our bathroom.

“It's our sink...it fell!”

He was right. Our sink lay shattered in hundreds of pieces on the bathroom floor. Epic!

We had to re-tell the story a few times before the manager seemed to understand that our sink was no more. She said she would send someone up to take a look and she would notify the owner when he came in first thing in the morning. We thought this was odd since the Indian man we met when we checked in was standing right there... As it turned out, he was not the owner. He is family and just lives at the Lodge. Oh well, a few minutes later our sink was swept up and we were back to reading.

The following day Josh and I went down to the front desk to find that the owner would not be in until later on so we decided to find breakfast. Not far from our lodge, we found a little coffee house that advertised “American-style” coffee so we tried it out. It was definitely better than Nescafe – the instant coffee we've been living on – but a few levels below the “American-style” we are used to!

After breakfast we decided to visit the Armed Forces museum. The museum is located in the center of town, inside an old British fort modeled after the Cape Coast Castle. Exhibits showcased wars and conflicts fought in Northern Africa – sabers from WWI, guns from WWII, flags and uniforms, documents. I thought the most interesting exhibit was the one donated by the United Nations. Over the last few decades Ghanaian soldiers have been a part of the peacekeeping force deployed to war torn African countries and some of the artifacts brought back were both disturbing but very interesting. One weapon in particular, the “Head Basher,” stopped both Josh and I cold. The “Head Basher” is a heavy club, about two feet in length, carved out of wood. Rusty three inch nails stick out of the head of the club making it quiet obvious how the weapon got both it's name and its reputation for being one of the most brutal weapons used during the Rwandan conflict.

As I'm sure I don't have the required amount of audience interest locked-in at this point to give an adequate history of the Ashanti people (Ghanians of this region) and their King please visit this site to learn more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ashanti_people. Briefly, the Ashanti's have a rich history, famed for their large collection of gold and for their continued defiance of the British colonial rule. Their most famous possession is the Kings Stool which is made out of solid gold. During the colonial rule, the British tried unsuccessfully to capture the stool in order to showcase their total control over the Ashanti people. When the Brits demanded it be handed over the Ashantis' made a fake while hiding the real one in the mountains. Great, right? A few decades after the Brits had pulled out of the region one room at the fort remained sealed. This room, filled with holding cells, had been where the Ashanti Queen had been held before she was transferred to Cape Coast. The room remained sealed because the Brits had left a sign which hinted that there may be a bomb set to detonate if the room was opened. In the 90's, with the help of the bomb squad, the room was unsealed without incident. Inside they found gold, the King's gold that had been seized during colonial rule. Imagine that...a room full of gold.

Seeing as I'm running out of room and still have so much to say I will start to be more brief.

After leaving the fort Josh and I walked around the outer rim of the Kejetia Market, the largest open air market in Western Africa. The word 'market' does not do it justice, it's a city! I was instantly reminded of the pictures I have seen of the Favellas outside of Rio – tin roofs covering what seemed like miles upon miles of space. Even on the periphery the volume of people was amazing. As we were pushed into the stream of shoppers and vendors, open spaces disappeared. Every person walked shoulder to shoulder. A few times Josh and I became separated and I was sure I would not find him.

The last event worth mentioning is that I ate fufu and grasscutter stew (please see picture of grasscutter: www.jovanafarms.com/ pic/Fish%2002.jpg). All I want to say about grass cutter is that it does taste exactly how it looks...

When we got back to the Lodge our Indian friend from earlier was there and obviously intoxicated. At first this was very amusing, but when we tried explaining why we had still not paid for the night – our missing sink – his slurred interjections just confused the new manager. It got very awkward very fast. The manager didn't understand why we wanted a discount, our Indian friend said something unintelligible, we said it was our lack of sink...and around and around we went. After

a few minutes our friend disappeared into the back office, telling us he would explain our situation to the owner. FAIL! The owner came out a few minutes later, shook our hands and asked us to please explain what was going on. We did. He didn't want to give us a discount. So, around and around we went...

Finally, after we couldn't get a discount he agreed to put us in a new, cheaper room. We went upstairs to collect our things and halfway through the manager came up and said we could stay in our room for our asking price. I think the owner finally realized that by putting us in a new room he would be left with a room he couldn't rent. The better buisiness decision was to just leave us there, sinkless, and rent the other to some future paying costumer.

Josh spent all night sick – bad food – so, we decided to skip our 4 a.m. direct bus and take a detour through Accra. Twelve hour later...we finally made it to Kpando.

[Meeting the Children starts here]

The orphanage is located a short walk down a newly constructed dirt road. The closer we came the faster Josh walked, excited to finally be back. We turned onto a long driveway, front gate in sight. Fifty-yards, forty... “JOSHUA,” a young girl called from our right. The distance and darkness made it hard to make out any facial features, but Josh knew exactly who it was. They exchanged a quick hello and Josh asked about a baby.

“Yes, she had the baby and named it Joshua.”

I wish I would have had my video camera rolling, to capture the confused look on Josh's face.

“After me?”

“Yes.”

He looked at me and smiled and I stated the obvious: “You have a namesake!”

Thinking back, this was the perfect introduction this part of Josh's life – the orphanage, Kpando and the Children. I finally got it. For me, this may be a trip to a new place, but for Josh this was a homecoming.

As soon as we cleared the gate screams filled the air: “BROTHER JOSHUA, BROTHER JOSHUA, BROTHER JOSHUA...” Before I knew it twenty children – ages 3 to 16 – completely swallowed Josh in hugs. As an outsider looking in I was floored by this reception. He had been gone for six months. Six long months. And he had been missed.

With the kids out of the way, Mama was next. Mama Esi is the woman in charge and she looks the part – every bit the motherly figure with a loud 'Santa Clause' laugh. We both received big hugs from Mama. As soon as she let us go we were shepherded upstairs and shown our room, Josh's old room, and fed for the first time all day.

I've gone on long enough. In the next entry I will describe the orphanage, but for now I will just leave you with this flash forward of sorts: We've been living here for the better part of two weeks (yes I'm a little behind in my posts) and I'm feeling more at home every day.