Out with the old, in with the new

The Lumana house has cleared out and within it resides only Bridget,
Justine and I. The departure of Sammie and Martina has left a void in
our hearts, but it will soon be filled by the arrival of new friends
and Fellows. Boxing Day marks the beginning of a new chapter, for our
honored guest Conor arrives. Only a few weeks following his arrival,
the newest additions to the Lumana team will land to begin their
fellowship projects (looking forward to meeting you all and a
preemptive welcome!).

Now that the current state of affairs has been declared, please allow
for a moment of reflection while I rewind to play from the beginning
of Martina’s eventful stay. Over the course of the past three weeks,
following our Ghanaian Staff Retreat, we hosted the “Meet Me There”
Brits for a delicious Indian feast, crossed the Togo Border by foot, a
feat in itself here on this continent of Africa, fought off Togolese
muggers (sort of), toured the nearby Keta Slave Castle (where we also
witnessed a man defecating on the beach adjacent to where we casually
soaked up some sun), bode farewell to Sammie over coconut-mango
Smoothies at Melting Moments in Accra, traveled west to Elmina and
Cape Coast (and then back to Elmina) to stay at Stumble Inn and the
Oasis Beach Resort, braved the Kakum National Park Canopy Walk and,
finally, ventured back into Accra where Martina set off for the U.S.
of A.

Our recent excursion to Elmina and Cape Coast proved to be a very
relaxing and indulgent experience. The “eco-lodge” is apparently a
trend in Ghana and Stumble Inn, located in Elmina, was yet another
experience with accommodation of this fashion (power runs only from
6-9 PM, the huts have composting toilets… you get the idea). After we
sat in a crammed bus in Accra traffic for over 3 hours without moving
and pondered how the socio-political structure of our newfound bus
civilization would look should we never make it out of the jam, we
came to our stop in Elmina. A round of suspicious questions from our
cab driver at the bus stop had us paranoid that the ride down the
long, dirt path could lead us to our demise, but indeed ended up being
the driveway to our sleeping quarters for the evening. The security
guard from Stumble Inn “greeted” us by appearing out of the bushes
somewhere along this dark and deserted road, then showed us the way to
our room with a flashlight. After eating some apple pie cookies for
dinner, we crawled into our respective bunks and slumbered.

The morning cast a brand new light on our weekend abode. What seemed
like something out of “Nightmare on Elm Street” only 8 hours before
now looked like a tropical paradise. Serving up delicious breakfast to
our own personal, beachfront dining room set, Justine, Martina and I
sat and enjoyed the pampering from the Stumble Inn staff, overlooking
fishermen paddling their colorful canoes out across the Atlantic.
After receiving directions to avoid “toilet beach” on the way to the
slave castle by our hospitable Dutch hostess, Sitska, we ventured off
on a sandy stroll to explore the oldest and largest slave castle in
all of West Africa: Elmina Castle.

Touring the slave chambers, the old officers’ quarters and the “door
of no return,” made for some eerie, exceptionally disturbing
sightseeing. The Castle, built in 1482 by the Portuguese, exchanged
hands in 1637 when captured by the Dutch and was later purchased by
the English in 1872. Originally used for the ivory and gold trade, it
shifted to slave trade as demand increased. The more history I
absorbed, the more unsettling standing within the castle walls became.

Once we finished our tour, we took a little down time for lunch at a
nearby restaurant across the canal, which runs through Elmina, across
from the castle. This canal is packed full of fishing boats painted
brightly in blues, greens, yellows and reds with biblical terms such
as “The Blood” and “God is King” written along their wooden hulls, a
vivid collage cluttered with the hustle and bustle of the market
undulating at the bank of the canal. We made sure to suck down the
water from some freshly cracked coconuts here before a quick stop back
at Stumble Inn to gather our things and set off for Cape Coast.
Although we had a nice evening at the Oasis Beach Resort playing cards
over a few drinks, it didn’t end up being the crazy nightlife we’d
anticipated. This worked out just fine since we were geared up and
ready to roll for the Kakum National Park Canopy Walk early in the
morning after sleeping in our converted bathhouse of a room.

George, our private driver who had dropped us off at the Oasis the
evening before, came back, without request mind you, to give us a lift
to the canopy walk in the morning. We made our way up the road that
served as a means for holding the potholes together and we all buckled
our seatbelts, perhaps for the first time in Ghana. Along the way,
young men were shoveling dirt into the potholes of the damaged roadway
motioning for cars to stop and pay them for their services, which no
one asked them to perform. George blew by them, laughing.  Once we
arrived, we made sure George had a few Cedi to buy himself a
refreshment and made our way to join the canopy walk tour that had
already gotten a head start on us. In a series of seven rope bridges
constructed by Canadian engineers from Vancouver, well above the
ground and extremely rocky, we not-so-gracefully passed from one to
the next until we were back on solid ground and ready for another
freshly machete-chopped coconut served just down the path. We even
tried fresh cocoa, which tasted extremely sour and semi-sweet, far
from any chocolate I’ve ever experienced. When our mini-hike was all
said and done, we made our way all the way back to Stumble Inn for one
more night of tropical, hippie bliss.

The next morning after breakfast on the beach, we had good old George
give us ride back to Cape Coast, where we saw what would be the most
eventful thing we saw all day: an aggressive old drunk man getting
slapped silly by a cocky young sober man at the trotro station. We
laughed, but only since he deserved it. Then we made the long journey
home to our splendid little town of Anloga.