weekend of June 25th

We arrive at Big Milly’s guest house with enough time to actually enjoy our evening, bout 7. This place is markedly different from the big city just 45 minutes away. Very quiet, very peaceful. It would become the theme of the weekend. Raining; not many people around. We are greeted by a Ewe/French speaking security guard. Unfortunately between the 3 of us I speak the most French, which gets us no where. We eventually figure it out and get our “dorm rooms” – Actually an open air shack with beds, mosquito nets and trunks for your belongings. Actually pretty cool. We just missed a bbq so we had to get some jalloff rice next door. Not bad, not great. When we return people are playing drums. Tons of Obruni’s but lots of locals too. Toward the end of the evening Andrea’s friend of a friend, Komoyete, meets us. Andrea called him for the first time this summer just an hour or so before we arrived. We chatted with him for a bit and he told us to be ready by 6 so that he could show us around. If he weren’t so relaxed he’d be bursting from the seams with excitement. You can tell he really loves his village.
6am Saturday morning, Komoyete is true to his word. “He doesn’t run on African time he runs on Real time” exclaims Andrea. We jump in the cab and go to a seemingly random house. Trudge through a couple backyards and we’re starting to hit some forest. Komoyete gives tours for people who stay at the guest house on a regular basis. We’re privileged though because his and Andrea’s mutual friend. We get to see a lot more and pay a lot less (in fact we only paid to cost of renting a boat, he covered everything else). Everyone seems to know him. I can’t really get the story straight but he’s pretty high up. At first I thought he was the chief of the village, but I think he’s the heir. His Grandfather is the chief, but his father told us that Komoyete was the chosen one. At any rate Komoyete takes responsibility for the land, water and trees and animals . “this is my water, these are my trees…etc”. He’s a tree steward of the environment and does everything he can to preserve it. I almost lost it when he used the word biodiversity. For some reason I didn’t think it was a word that translated perfectly into Ghanaian English. He was absolutely right though. He had trees I had never seen before, tilapia that he fed so that they would continue to live in his water and eat the algae, bananas, mangos and papaya trees, monkeys, and all sorts of smaller plants. At some point we go to his house and meet his sister and nephew. This boys name is Ebenezer, but Komoyete calls him “Komoyete Jr.” I think he plans on raising him to appreciate nature as much as he does.
7:30 am Komoyete gives us some ‘fresh from the farm’ bananas and makes us some breakfast. While we wait, me, Shara and Andrea just chill outside and watch the trees. A couple times we see Monkeys kamikaze from larger trees to smaller trees. Somehow the branches support them every time. After breakfast we walk to the forest to see a spiritual place in the forest – a place where komoyete, his father, grandfather and some people from the village go for spiritual guidance. The route is a little covered with weeds in some parts and since we wore shorts Komoyete has to hack away a bit to make paths. Some how he doesn’t break a sweat despite his big winter hat (over his dreads) and his black Bob Marley t-shirt.
When we make it to the place we just sorta stand and silence for a bit. Andreas friend Karen said that her and Komoyete would just sit in silence for up to 4 hours just staring out into the world. Shara’s too chatty to let that happen though, which is a good thing because he actually has a lot to say. He tells us how people come to pray and leave sacrifices of alcohol for the spirits. Explains the empty bottles lying around. After some time we head back…stopping along the way for seemingly no reason but to collect our thoughts for up to 10 minutes at a time. One of Komoyete’s nephews makes us an herbal remedy to rub on our mosquito bites. I wish I had some now because as I write this my hands are itching like crazy.
About 10 am we set off for “africa”. It’s an island pretty close to Komoyete’s village. He calls it Africa because it’s more “natural” than other parts of Ghana, especially Accra. “Right now we are in America, I will take you to Africa”. We get a boat, which is manned by a young guy rowing with a gondola oar. Row about 10 minutes and then stop to grab some beans and rice. Row about 30 more minutes to a beachy area, the name of which I can’t remember. It’s definitely where rich tourists come as there is a way to fancy hotel there. We relax there for a bit and then get on the boat to head to “Africa”. Its about another half hour – an hour including all of the stops we take to look at the wild life on the trees. Some pretty sick snails and crabs that just live in the branches. We see amazing birds like hundreds of them at once. “this is not a documentary, this is real life” beams Komoyete with a huge grin. When we make it to Africa it’s a beachy area with grass huts. He brings us to his house on the island where one of his sister’s lives and has a bar. He makes up try akapateshi, a local spirit that Shara has wanted to try all summer. Not good at all. I’ve cleaned wounds with less potent stuff I’m certain.
We walk a bit through the village. So refreshing to be away from the smells of gasoline and the blaring of “obruni, obruni come and take a look”. No one is trying to sell you anything here. Then again they barely have anything to sell everyone on the Island gets whatever they need at about 7am from a boat that visits. During the week the kids have to walk about 30 minutes to catch a boat to school. Komoyete is working on getting a boat to and from school closer to the kid’s huts.
We take a less scenic route on the way back. Sorta good because we want to make it back for the match. When we arrive back at Big Millie’s we make it just in time to order dinner. My mood begins to change. Or rather, revert back to the how I felt Wednesday night after the matchup between the US and Ghana was announced. Fettered excitement with pending disappointment. Ghana strikes first. Everyone celebrates around me but I’m silent. At the end of the first half its 1-nil black stars. Second half…the United States dominates the opening minutes. I want them to score…be careful what you wish for. They get the equalizer on a Donavan penalty shot. Everyone is on the edge of their seats for the rest of the half. Both teams survive the rest of the half. It wasn’t enough for Ghana to play the US, the football gods had to drag it out an extra 30 minutes. About 5 minutes into extra time Ghana scores. I manage a slow clap but I’m not happy. When the final whistle blows everyone goes crazy around me. I’m devoid of joy. Never could I have imagined that I would be so affected by a football match. Someone drapes a Ghanaian flag around me at the bar. I’m patient. Eventually he gets the picture and takes it off of me. I couldn’t really get my mood up for the rest of the night but the regea concert infront of my dorm prevented me from calling it an early night. [Right now at work everyone’s busting my chops about the game. Nii (my officemate) was the most cordial about it but my favorite colleague, Osofu was relentless this morning. “Campbell, you forgot to sign the attendance book this morning because you were confused after Saturday’s match”. Followed by my boss , Ema and Didi coming in to offer “their sympathies”.]

Komoyete comes over to me at the bar and took me to the beach to show me a fish he caught. He takes me over to a little sand pit he made, splashes some water around and sure enough there was a pretty big tilapia on the beach. Apparently me and Drea just missed seeing a giant tortoise bury her eggs.
Later we meet some Britons on the beach. Solid guys. They’re all volunteering at an orphanage at a village in the north. Alex has been here for 4 months and Senior for 2. They invited me to play soccer with them and some kids the next day .
The following morning I rolled outta bed and onto the beach. Chilled there for a bit, grabbed breakfast and played some soccer. These little kids are incredible any one of them could easily start on a MLS team at 14 and could make a premiership team as an adult. The sad thing is they’ll never get recognized unless scouts come down to check them out. Maybe the Blackstar’s performance during this cup will open more eyes to the athletic talent of many of these young kids.
After soccer I start to miss home. Last week Osu (the neighborhood I work in) has been getting on my nerves. People constantly trying to sell me stuff and yelling U.S., U.S. at me. It didn’t really bug me before but it get’s old after a while. I love Ghana but sometimes I’d just like to escape for a couple hours… preferably to have some Pinnochio’s pizza with Terri in Harvard Square. I always get homesick though. Even when I went to France (for only 6 weeks) I was missing home about 4 weeks in. It’s just hard sticking out much…people constantly speaking a language you don’t understand. I know when it’s time to leave/when I get back to the US I’ll miss Ghana tons. But right now, if I were given the opportunity to roll my flight back a week or two I’d give it serious thought.