Adventure to Accra

Benjamin's snail farm

When we left Accra to head inland, we promised our return for Conference weekend. As the days passed, we all looked forward to coming back to the capital. The idea even helped me get through some bad days, just thinking we could get some American food, use fast Internet, and watch the USU/BYU football game.

We were trying to figure out how to get to Accra in a timely manner. Stephen, Sr. counseled us to not travel at dark, and it gets dark here at six. We teach our classes on Friday at two, and we were told travel takes about three hours, so we had a tight fit. We were thinking of taking a taxi straight there, but that would be 150 GHC (“Ghana Cedis”), which is comparatively very expensive. We doused that idea, which, momentarily, doused the dream of getting to the capital in time for the football game. Luckily, we decided on a quick leave after our classes, which put us at our destination shortly after dark, but, most importantly, Stephen said was ok.

We taught a good lesson, then quickly returned to Abomosu to catch a taxi to Anyanim. We fetched a decent and roomy taxi, especially compared to the taxi we took from Amonom to Abomosu. Allan sat in the front, and the rest of us four smaller people fit into the back semi-comfortably. Zandra sat between Garrett’s legs for the 45-minute trek, but they think it is comfortable. As we started, the clouds opened and let the rain and lighting go. With the windows rolled up, it got pretty stuffy in the car, but it was nothing compared to Zandra’s fear of lightning. I wouldn’t say it is a fear of lightning, but just an over-active imagination picturing every bad outcome possible without thinking realistically or positively. Hence, it applies to more than just lightning, but lightning does the trick.

The way from Abomosu to Stephen's Office

 A bolt struck nearby as to crack instantaneously, freaking her out. The rain poured, adding to the confinement. Then, our driver took a dirt road, telling us that it was a shortcut. No biggie, I though; WTF ARE YOU TAKING US, Zandra thought. Generally the people are not out to get us, and we established as much rapport as one can with a taxi driver, so I didn’t think twice about the shortcut. Plus, it is not like the paved roads are better than the dirt roads.

The market in Abomosu

We are tearing down the road, mud flinging as we pass. He has taken this road several times, I’m sure. Slowly, he wheeled through puddles and dodged around potholes. We looked out our foggy windows to see dirty streams of water splashing down the road. Because of a lack of judgment or a brief moment of unawareness, he picked up a little too much speed and fell into too deep a puddle. Muddy water engulfed the car, making it seem like we were driving into a river (I thought of Inception where the car was hitting the water). The image of the opaque water covering the windshield is burned into my memory. Everybody made a noise of astonishment, whether it was a scream or a “Whoa!” The car drove a couple more yards then sputtered to a stop.

Driving through that much water swamped the engine, causing it to stutter and die. I hope we don’t have to get out in this weather, I thought to myself. I wouldn’t have said it out loud because it would have stressed Zandra, not that she wasn’t stressing herself out anyway. The driver turned the key over and over, the engine only stammering and murmuring and never taking life. We wondered how far it was to our destination? Is this really a shortcut? Will it keep raining? I couldn’t help but think the worst, but I was laughing at the whole situation as well. Of course we would be in a hurry, then have our car die in such a glorious, yet stupid way.

Collections in Asunafo

After about 5 minutes of prodding, the car stammered back to life, and we finished our ride to Anyanim. Our nice driver even found us a tro tro, something beyond expected, but very appreciated.

We sat in the tro tro (a tro tro is basically a 15-passenger van that is used like a bus)  for almost a half an hour before we took off. While we were waiting, a man gave us semi-official looking tickets then said, “I give you ticket, you pay now.” We weren’t about to get ripped off, so we said we would pay when we were moving. He stuck around for a bit, even taking money from another passenger, but we left and he never came back to take our money.

I believe, looking back, that it was protocol to just pay him. We definitely took the safe route, but after we took off, we were never asked to pay. Everybody that got on (the tro tro will just pick up people off the side of the road) just paid when they hopped on It was a long drive, much longer than anticipated. With the extra time in the taxi and the waiting time at the station, we were pretty behind schedule. It was dark after just an hour on the tro tro. I toned out the noise with my iPod, which made the ride bearable.

Driving to Stephen, Sr.'s farm

The road to Accra is Sketchville High. The paved road is full of muddy potholes, and the rain marred the dirt road. At times, I thought we would never make it through the mud, but I guess we were in a heavy vehicle. Shortly after leaving Anyanim, we passed an overturned, semi-sized box truck. We picked up the driver of the vehicle in the tro tro, who was uninjured, so he could find a crane to flip his truck. The natives were all seemingly yelling in the car, so I tuned out, but later a guy translated back the story of a bus cutting the driver off, causing him to veer and tip his truck.

Beautiful Margaret at church

We knew we had to get off at Achimota, but how to get there or when to get off was another story. Luckily, people look after you when you show you need help, so everybody helped us get off at the right place; the tro tro man even helped us get a taxi. Everything had been priced as expected until this taxi. I asked Douglas to give me an idea of how much everything would cost so I wouldn’t get ripped off. The taxi driver told us 25 GHC for the trip to the office, but Douglas said it would only be 14 GHC. I fought with him, telling him to stop ripping us off, but he only lowered to 20 GHC. Powerlessly and tiredly, we gave in (it is only 4 GHC a piece verses 3 GHC a piece anyway).

Ironically, the same man you fight with to get your taxi ride is the same man you have to depend on to get you where you are going. The attitude changes from defensive tension for your fare to helpless dependence. He told us not to worry, and he kept to his word. We thanked him, and finished our journey five hours after we started it.

The road to Asunafo

First things first: food. The past interns told us of a pizza place called Papa’s Pizza, and the idea of pizza was so enthralling we could hardly wait. We called, accustomed to the ordering system in the States, only to be told to call back later when the delivery guys were back. We went shopping to get water and other supplies, only to find the grocery store just closed. It was dark, so I didn’t especially want to be on the streets, so it was frustrating nothing was working out. The pizza place called us back, and we ordered three large pizzas to be delivered ASAP.

The cheese on the pizza was the first dairy product I had eaten for three weeks. Sadly, the pizza was not what I was expecting (I expected Pizza Hut quality, but it’s Africa, so yeah right), but I still ate like a madman. Three pizzas was a little too much, but we offered some to the security guard, who pretty much at the whole third pizza.

The USU/BYU football game started at 8 PM, as dictated by ESPN, so I planned a little nap before I turned on the game at 2 AM. I woke up just before and took a cold shower to wake me up. I turned on the game and it was already the third quarter and Chuckie Keeton was not playing. WHAT????? Oh, 8 PM EST, which means it started at midnight. And Chuck? On the sideline with his knee wrapped. What a terrible game to watch, too, as Utah State struggled to even get a first down. I finished the disappointing game and fell back asleep at 4 AM. The game was one of the main reasons I pushed come on Friday, and even though it was disappointing, I am so happy I got to watch some football!

Listening to the Priesthood Session

The next day, Beverly and I went to the Accra Mall to get some money out. Well, I should say I went with her to get her money out because I left my debit card in Abomosu (insert profanities). She did some clothes shopping, which I had not known she would do or else I would not have gone, then we ate at the food court. It was not necessarily a pleasant morning, but the day was much improved when Conference started. I love listening to the words of the leaders of the Church, who are prophets of God. The sessions went from four to six, from eight to ten, and Priesthood was from midnight to two. I only fell asleep for President Uchtdorf’s talk in the Priesthood session, but I will probably just watch it before conference starts today.

I have been feeling kind of homesick lately. I feel isolated because everything is different than I am used to: not driving my own car, not going out on my own, having to watch out for the others, not eating at proper food joints, not knowing where anything is, not being able to shop for common items, not knowing anybody but the interns, etc. All these things play in my mind, but I wouldn’t rather be in a different place. I am so glad to be here.

We will have our four-week muffins on Tuesday, which marks one-third of the way. I have learned a lot about myself, and I have gained valuable experience doing the work I am here to do. I hope I make it the last two months with out killing anybody, but mostly I just hope that I can eat 80 more plates of bland ramen noodle casserole (we eat it every other day when Mama B cooks for us).