This past weekend, well, Wednesday through Sunday afternoon, we (our group of 6 from NC, plus 5 other random friends we've made from Oregon, Penn State, and Elon) went to Ada.
Wednesday afternoon, the 11 of us piled all of our stuff into a rented out "tro-tro" (didn't know you could rent a tro-tro, but more on that another time)and packed in, anxiously awaiting our somewhat unknown destination. You see, this is how it works in Ghana: no one ever knows. So, apply that to the Americans (us) in Ghana, and that equals we never know where we're going.
If someone has an idea of where we should go (usually based on some Ghana or West Africa guidebook), they propose it, make arrangements with a bus or tro-tro, maybe make room reservations, then round up a crew of people to tag along. Luckily, this time, I didn't have to do too much of the planning. I was along for the ride, knowing little about Ada, other than the pictures I saw from a Google search (and from Google, it looks like paradise--which it was, until the sun went down).
We arrived at Adafour, about 2 hours after being bounced around on a tro-tro and taking some sketchy stops along the way. Let's just say, we thought we stood out in Accra (being white obrunis), until we drove through villages in Ada.
Our tro-tro pulled up on a rocky road, mangled with brush, and came to a screeching hault as we all wondered what the next few days would have in store. Boys and teenage guys quickly picked up our bags and helped us carry them to the shore, where a wooden motorboat awaited us.
The boatride was breezy and breathtaking, and held us in suspense as we wondered where our "island" would be. When the boat finally stopped, we were all in awe. We could't have dreamed of a place so beautiful if we had tried. Like little girls, Maggie, Kenz, and I giggled (not kidding) and screamed as we ran around exploring the island. We ran up over a hill to find the Atlantic ocean and stared at our beautiful, straw tiki huts, wondering if we were living in the pages of something you'd only see in a story book. But it was real and we were in Africa. We could hardly believe it.
Village children lined the freshwater coast, sometimes following Mom or Dad, balancing food or coconuts in bowls on their heads, while carrying fresh fish in either hand. We heard the tunes of beach music, country music, and even chants from the local village. The weather was perfect. We couldn't believe we were in such an unimaginably beautiful place, it was the best "classroom" I've ever seen. Everything was perfect...until the sun went down.
Nightfall came extremely early. The sun went down around 6:30pm every night, and we quickly learned to carefully put out everything for bedtime before we were without lights--our pajamas, etc. Yes, I forgot to mention, that we had to go "Survivor- style". No electricity in our huts, no running water. It was such a relaxing weekend, and it was perfect, like I said, until the sun went down.
Night #1, Kenz and I were lying in our tiki hut bed, draped with a mosquito net, laughing at what a crazy situation it was, and shaking our heads at disbelief, wondering how we signed up for going so "Survivor-style". It was freezing at night, we only brought one pair of pants and one long-sleeved t-shirt each, neither of us brought a flashlight (big mistake; this was much needed when we squatted behind our huts to pee at night--we NEEDED to scope out the sand for creepy crawlers--aka "ghost crabs"), we were lying in a bed with a mosquito net for Heaven's sake, we were wet and damp from the thick humidity, and we surely didn't pack enough snacks.
The best part though, was the fact that I called the place we were staying ahead of time to see if they provided sheets and what the "toilet situation" would be like. The guy who answered the phone said, "Yes, we have sheets." (Only to later find out that he meant only a fitted sheet). And when I asked about the toilet, he said, "Ohhh, I think you will really like the toilets here."---haaa...that was a joke. The toilets, dang it I didn't take a picture (probably because I would have passed out from the smells trying to do so), were pretty horrible. They were wooden stools, with cutout circles, surrounded by straw walls. You basically peed into a hole, into sand. And yall, this wasn't like the typically porta-potty (I can do those, no problem). The worst was when I saw a maggot wiggling around on the ground. Gross. Well, at least during the days, we were in "paradise".
The days were beautiful. We had lazy days, reading on the beach, exchanging books, having great and unusual conversations. We played "snaps", the "family game", and many others that former camp counselors insisted we play. We are all already like family, after only two weeks. I guess that's what happens when you're (literally) stranded on a deserted island.
No comments:
Post a Comment