This weekend had to the potentional to be really amazing or really lousy...it ended up being just ok but that's quite alright. Andrea and I tag-teamed the planning to visit the Nzulezo (N-zu-lay-zu) stilt village. Drea's internet is really bad so I scoured the net for whatever I could find whenever I had down time. I came up with our accomdation for Friday, just outside the village in a Town called Beyin. It got really good reviews and the owner was friendly enough. The worst part of the planning was an unwillingness to be exclusive. It's hard to not invite people to weekend trips, especially newbie Obruni's who have no idea what to do or see, but at one point we had 12 confirmed people. It's hard enough to take a trip to Adam's Morgan with 12 people, try arranging transportation and accommodations for a place 5 hours and 2 different busses away! Luckily the newer half of the group decided it was best that they get their feet wet with something more local, leaving a manageable group of Me, Drea, Daan, Terry, and new friends Christin and Emma. Andrea broke her “no obruni's with braids rule” with Christin , a work colleague, and it really paid off, she's a nice girl from Gary, Indiana with a lot of personality. Guess you can't judge an obruni by their ill fashioned hairdo (or however the phrase goes). Andrea arranged the second night at the Green Turtle lodge, dubbed the nicest beach in Ghana and popular volunteer spot for their turtle conservationist project.
Getting there was a mess still...mostly b/c of the rain and transfer but we made it safely. The hostel/resort was really nice, but by the time we got there we passed out. It misted all morning, causing us to jog from our rooms to breakfast. On the way Christin must have dropped her wallet because half way through our meal one of the caretakers came by and handed it to us. “The money's gonna be gone” whispered Christin cynically, but sure enough it was. When she asked who found it because there was money missing the waitress immediately started yelling at the guy who gave it to her in one of the Ghanian Dialects. The dude started stripping to prove his innocence and he looked genuinely upset about the ordeal. Andrea saw Christin count out her money on the way to breakfast so there's no doubt she had it on the way. It's possible that someone came along and found the wallet and tossed it down for the male caretaker to find...but there was almost no one else at the place. After the owner raced back from town and had a chat with us...we ended up with 20 Cedi's off our bill, leaving a 50 cedi deficit for Christin :-/ . We'll never know what really happened, but at least we're all safe.
In the interirm between losing Christin's money and meeting with the Owner of the Beyin Hotel we went to see the village. Andrea will describe the trip there as a canoe ride...but Terry and I can tell you (the leaders of the two boats) that it was most definitely a row....like a 40 minute row! But it was still misting so it was really enjoyable. The stilt village was built by refugees escaping a war. I'm unclear about the entire story but I'll supplement this post with more info... The village was actually really disappointing. I would not recommend. The whole experience felt like we were uninvited guests in someones home. The people on the village weren't all that friendly and understandably so. These 6 random obrunis (and others who make the trip) find their everyday life sooooooooooooo amusing, that they pay to 7 cedi each to row a boat out to see them. But they do appreciate the proceeds and the extra donation to the school that we and others undoubtedly give so I guess it's a tradeoff.
After the Coke summit with the owner of the Beyin Hotel we set off for Green Turtle Lodge. Another travel hassel, including 10 KM of the bumpiest road I've ever been on but we got there with almost 2 hours of sunlight (and we made it about 90 minutes closer to Accra for our return trip.) It was well worth the trip. Isolated from the world and the food was amazing (example: French Toast with bananas and African honey + real coffee for the first time since I left the States). We popped open a bottle of Argentine wine I bought for $3 from a convenience store in Accra (not bad at all) but I barely finished a sip because I was drawn to the volley ball net. Terry and I ran over and joined two spainish couples in a match. Louis (a diplomat) Dorethea, Nacho (not sure if that's his name...but he pulls it off) and another woman who had a really pretty spanish name that I can't remember (all jounalists) were an awesome find. We played volley ball with them until it got dark, and soccer the next day. They came down in two SVU's so they had 3 seats in each and offered to give us a ride back to Accra. They saved us soooooooooo much hassle and since they wanted to get back for the world cup, we were sure to make it back for the match too. So even though I was pulling for Holland after Ghana was eliminated, I had too much Spanish hospitality not to root feverishly for them. Me, Daan and Andrea went to Epos one last time to bid farewell to a large chapter in our Africa experience. We donned spanish flags on our faces, courtesy of our new friends, and watched the game outside on giant movie screens. In case you live under a rock, Spain pulled out the victory in Extra time and our 4 friends and 20 or so other spanish transplants were beside themselves. I gave Nacho a hug to congratulate him and before Andrea could do the same, he had to stabilize himself on a chair as he dropped his head in his hands to pour tears of joy.
Monday morning ended up with no power in my office all day. Now that the world cup is done it's gonna be a pretty regular thing. Womp Womp.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
Republic Day- July 1st/ Weekend of July 2nd
Thursday was very well near my 4th religious experience of the week (but Andrea, being the law student she is would not let me call it one). Andrea invited me, shara and Daan to hang out with a guy she met here (Prince Nana) and his "keep fit club". We piled into a van with way too many people and sang religious songs, played drums, made crazy highpitched noises etc for about 3 hours to visit bodi falls. I gotta say the ride down was actually more fun than the place itself. Perhaps because we were celebrating Republic Day, which is like indepence day part II for Ghana (when the British occupiers actually left) but the place looked like 6 flags great adventure. Along the route in the forest were several Fan Ice Vendors (idk if i ever talked about this, but imagine a Wendy's frostie stuffed into a little plastic pouch...for 25 cents...so good), food vendors, vendors of anything people were willing to carry on their head. And there were just way to many people. Being from right outside the NYC you'd think i'd be ok with that...but Terri can tell you that I really am not. I don't like midtown NYC at all, and I almost choked a b***h during the Cherry Blossom festival in DC. Anyway we had a pretty challenging hike to see this palmtree with 3 branches...the hike was cool but the tree was unimpressive. I actually really enjoy hiking these days and I told Brittany that we should round up some people at the Law Center to take a weekend trip to West Virginia
if anyone is down for that when I get back to D.C.. Ghanaian do not enjoy hiking though, for all their superior fitness over Americans they are not built for climbing. Everyone asked me every two minutes if I was tired and they were surprised when I told them know with a laugh. Me and this dude Maxwell broke a way from the pack on the way back and went on ahead to the bodi waterfall...pretty nice but not as impressive as the Wili water falls I saw a couple weeks ago... at lunch I met a young kid named Issac Newton (with a Ghanian Last Name I can't recall). He loves science and wants to be a pilot when he grows up. Issac asked me to stay with him while Shara and Andrea went to dance with some of the women we came with. Apparently some jerks were bothering them the one time I wasn't around to defend them but luckily one of the guys we came with was there to defuse the situation. After that the entire keepfit club broke away from the pack and we had an African Dance/Drum session before a 5 hour trotro trip home (the drive was doing like 40km an hour for no apparent reason :-/)
We didn't plan on going anywhere this weekend as Shara was off to climb mount Kili and me, pedro and Andrea wanted to stay in town to the blackstars match (which they lost in a heartbreaking fashion I care not to rehash). One of Andrea/Pedro's collauges really wanted to meet komeyete after Andrea blabbed on about him so we paid him another visit. This time we didn't have to stay in a hostel as he arranged for us to stay in a fishing village/island he calls "Africa" (if anyone knows Ghana the village shares an Island with Bojo Beach). Komeyete was much more talkative this week, perhaps because he was more aquinted with me and andrea, or maybe he was just excited to have so many new friends. Me, Andrea, Pedro, Terry and Daan walked around Komeyte's village looking at the trees he just planted for his reforstation project. We set of for Africa after not too long. Everytime I take a boat to or from Africa I get this feeling of being plucked from earth and placed in a picture of the most beautiful landscape you ever imagined. The number of times me and Terry exchanged the phrases "this isn't real" or "wow...this is amazing" could not be counted on our fingers and toes. After a swim, me, Terry and Pedro played football with some local kids. All the kids were really nice and friendly and of course master footballers. The sunset was incredible, easily the most beautiful I've ever seen. All the while Komoyete was building a tent out of reeds that we brought from the forest and some tarp. His friend also built a bonfire. After we changed up, we sat around the bonfire and hung out with the kids and whoever else in the village was interested. After a bit komeyete removed some hotstones from the bonfire and brought them into the tarp/reed tent. About 5 minutes later he advised us to put some swimming clothes on and to bring it some bags of drinking water. We through some lemon grass on the stones and periodicly poured water on the stones for a sauna experience you could not buy in the US. Terri's mother once told me that lemongrass tea can cure cancer and I definitely felt toxins exiting my body. I'm def. going to try to recreate this one weekend in the US.
The next morning I played football with the kids again and actually got a little sunburn (not a burn, burn, but my skin was peeling a bit)...whoops. They nicknamed Terry Obruni fish (white fish) and later nicknamed me redfish, I'm assuming because of my new color I'm rocking here. When I tan I tend to look Native American. We took a short trip down to bojo beach and on the way back helped bring in a very large fishing catch. We only helped for the last half hour and got all of the glory of seeing the catch bring brought in, but these guys were having a tug of war with the sea for hours. I really don't know how they do it. We actually bought some of the fish for very cheap and komeyete's friends friend it up for everyone except the stupid vegetarian (me :P) . Aside for the inexplicable meloncholy mood that has washed over me for two consecutive Sundays , it was a terrific weekend.
This weekend were going to visit the Nzeluzo Village on stilts (you can only get there by boat) and the Green Turtle Lodge -- the nicest beach in Ghana/turtle conservationist resort.
if anyone is down for that when I get back to D.C.. Ghanaian do not enjoy hiking though, for all their superior fitness over Americans they are not built for climbing. Everyone asked me every two minutes if I was tired and they were surprised when I told them know with a laugh. Me and this dude Maxwell broke a way from the pack on the way back and went on ahead to the bodi waterfall...pretty nice but not as impressive as the Wili water falls I saw a couple weeks ago... at lunch I met a young kid named Issac Newton (with a Ghanian Last Name I can't recall). He loves science and wants to be a pilot when he grows up. Issac asked me to stay with him while Shara and Andrea went to dance with some of the women we came with. Apparently some jerks were bothering them the one time I wasn't around to defend them but luckily one of the guys we came with was there to defuse the situation. After that the entire keepfit club broke away from the pack and we had an African Dance/Drum session before a 5 hour trotro trip home (the drive was doing like 40km an hour for no apparent reason :-/)
We didn't plan on going anywhere this weekend as Shara was off to climb mount Kili and me, pedro and Andrea wanted to stay in town to the blackstars match (which they lost in a heartbreaking fashion I care not to rehash). One of Andrea/Pedro's collauges really wanted to meet komeyete after Andrea blabbed on about him so we paid him another visit. This time we didn't have to stay in a hostel as he arranged for us to stay in a fishing village/island he calls "Africa" (if anyone knows Ghana the village shares an Island with Bojo Beach). Komeyete was much more talkative this week, perhaps because he was more aquinted with me and andrea, or maybe he was just excited to have so many new friends. Me, Andrea, Pedro, Terry and Daan walked around Komeyte's village looking at the trees he just planted for his reforstation project. We set of for Africa after not too long. Everytime I take a boat to or from Africa I get this feeling of being plucked from earth and placed in a picture of the most beautiful landscape you ever imagined. The number of times me and Terry exchanged the phrases "this isn't real" or "wow...this is amazing" could not be counted on our fingers and toes. After a swim, me, Terry and Pedro played football with some local kids. All the kids were really nice and friendly and of course master footballers. The sunset was incredible, easily the most beautiful I've ever seen. All the while Komoyete was building a tent out of reeds that we brought from the forest and some tarp. His friend also built a bonfire. After we changed up, we sat around the bonfire and hung out with the kids and whoever else in the village was interested. After a bit komeyete removed some hotstones from the bonfire and brought them into the tarp/reed tent. About 5 minutes later he advised us to put some swimming clothes on and to bring it some bags of drinking water. We through some lemon grass on the stones and periodicly poured water on the stones for a sauna experience you could not buy in the US. Terri's mother once told me that lemongrass tea can cure cancer and I definitely felt toxins exiting my body. I'm def. going to try to recreate this one weekend in the US.
The next morning I played football with the kids again and actually got a little sunburn (not a burn, burn, but my skin was peeling a bit)...whoops. They nicknamed Terry Obruni fish (white fish) and later nicknamed me redfish, I'm assuming because of my new color I'm rocking here. When I tan I tend to look Native American. We took a short trip down to bojo beach and on the way back helped bring in a very large fishing catch. We only helped for the last half hour and got all of the glory of seeing the catch bring brought in, but these guys were having a tug of war with the sea for hours. I really don't know how they do it. We actually bought some of the fish for very cheap and komeyete's friends friend it up for everyone except the stupid vegetarian (me :P) . Aside for the inexplicable meloncholy mood that has washed over me for two consecutive Sundays , it was a terrific weekend.
This weekend were going to visit the Nzeluzo Village on stilts (you can only get there by boat) and the Green Turtle Lodge -- the nicest beach in Ghana/turtle conservationist resort.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Post: Coming Soon
Thursday - BodiFalls/Republic Day
Weekend - Impromptu visit to our friend Komeyete: Highlights, sleeping on the beach in a traditional hut, hanging out with sweet kids in the fishing village, football on the beach, bonfire, homemade sauna on the beach, helping bring in a large fishing catch...
Weekend - Impromptu visit to our friend Komeyete: Highlights, sleeping on the beach in a traditional hut, hanging out with sweet kids in the fishing village, football on the beach, bonfire, homemade sauna on the beach, helping bring in a large fishing catch...
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
June 30th
I’m not a particularly religious person. Although I was raised Roman Catholic I’ve studied more Islam than any other major religion out of mere compassion for innocent Muslims discriminated against post 9/11. I call my self a Unitarian but only for the fact that they are the most accepting and tolerant of different points of view as far as I know. I simply try to live my life doing what I feel is good and right while minimizing the expression of my many flaws. Church is not my favorite thing, but Elyse advised me to check it out and she hasn’t let me down with “must do” Ghana experiences thus far. If there was any doubt as to whether I’d make it, Shara nagged me and my housemates to be up for church at 5am during our (me, shara and Andrea’s) first weekend, despite the fact that we were up till 2 and still jet lagged. We never made it to church that Sunday, I’ve had three spiritual experiences in the past five days. The first of the trio was hiking to a little used place of worship with a Rastafarian. When Americans think of Rastas immediately what comes to mind are probably dread locks, marijuana and Bob Marely. But behind the stereotype is a deep appreciation of loving your fellow man, being a good person and having faith against all odds. Komoyete told us of the struggle to preserve the most spiritual aspects of Rastafarianism in light of Christianity’s sweeping reach in Ghana.
Last night was my second experience. Shara and I went to a Pentecostal service (at the International Central Gospel Church in Osu, Accra) with Olivia, a Ghanaian journalist and friend of our housemate Daan. When we arrived the congregation was in the midst of “worship” which is singing and dancing. We were lucky that they were teaching a new song so we could sing along. After a couple of minutes I closed my eyes and observed the goings on with my ears. There were random shouts of “praise the lord, lord have mercy, hallelujah” as the live band played. At one point everyone started “speaking in tongues”…it was quite the unique experience for to non-religious Obrunis – visiting a Ghanaian church for the first time. After worship, Pastor Smith took the stage. The subject of the sermon was “the luke-warm Christian” – ‘lukewarm is defined as a liquid that is not hot nor cold …thus it cannot be used for its purpose as it is unstable’. He then read a passage from the bible that neither me nor Shara have ever heard …something to the affect of “if you are luke-warm when you come to me I will spew you out”. It was an awfully pertinent subject for us given that Shara is half-Jewish, half-Christian and joked about getting baptized in Ghana just for the experience…and I won’t rehash my feelings about church. As a whole the service was very interesting, intelligent, well articulated and humorous – it was more or less a light-hearted but well directed wake up call to the parishioners as they gear up for their version of Ramadan (from July 1-July 31 they fast from 6am-6pm in the hopes that god will continue to bless them for the second half of the year).
This morning I was invited to the 28th Anniversary Remembrance Service for three assassinated High court Justices. Among the distinguished guests was the Madame Chief Justice of Ghana (more like the president of the judiciary, way more relative power than John Roberts) the Deputy Attorney General and several Supreme, Appellate and High Court Justices, as well as a who’s who of Ghanaian lawyers. The service, hosted by Ghana’s Bar Association, and conducted by The Very Rev. Father Andrew Campbell, commemorates the lives of 3 high court justices, slain by revolutionaries for freeing individuals unlawfully imprisoned by the short-lived John Rawlings revolutionary government. Father Campbell, an Irish ex-pat who has lived in Ghana for almost 40 years, was brilliant. He spoke about the importance of forgiveness – “revenge is human, but forgiveness is Divine”. It was the best Roman Catholic service I’ve been to since I last attended Father Michael’s service at the St. Francis church in Hoboken as a boy of 11 or so. By and large it was a pretty traditional service except when the collection plate came around. At that point the choir busted out the African music from their set list and drums emerged from the woodwork. The Madam Chief Justice then led the congregation in a dance. The service closed with Ghana’s national anthem, marking the first time I’ve had the privilege of hearing the lyrics sung aloud. My experience with Pastor Smith and more so with Father Campbell is that I actually really enjoy church services. Once you get past of the monotony of the rituals and the brainwashing overtones of guilt (not present at all in Father Campbell’s service) church is really enjoyable. Perhaps I will shop around when I get back to the US for a good place to visit when I start to lose sight of what’s important in life.
Last night was my second experience. Shara and I went to a Pentecostal service (at the International Central Gospel Church in Osu, Accra) with Olivia, a Ghanaian journalist and friend of our housemate Daan. When we arrived the congregation was in the midst of “worship” which is singing and dancing. We were lucky that they were teaching a new song so we could sing along. After a couple of minutes I closed my eyes and observed the goings on with my ears. There were random shouts of “praise the lord, lord have mercy, hallelujah” as the live band played. At one point everyone started “speaking in tongues”…it was quite the unique experience for to non-religious Obrunis – visiting a Ghanaian church for the first time. After worship, Pastor Smith took the stage. The subject of the sermon was “the luke-warm Christian” – ‘lukewarm is defined as a liquid that is not hot nor cold …thus it cannot be used for its purpose as it is unstable’. He then read a passage from the bible that neither me nor Shara have ever heard …something to the affect of “if you are luke-warm when you come to me I will spew you out”. It was an awfully pertinent subject for us given that Shara is half-Jewish, half-Christian and joked about getting baptized in Ghana just for the experience…and I won’t rehash my feelings about church. As a whole the service was very interesting, intelligent, well articulated and humorous – it was more or less a light-hearted but well directed wake up call to the parishioners as they gear up for their version of Ramadan (from July 1-July 31 they fast from 6am-6pm in the hopes that god will continue to bless them for the second half of the year).
This morning I was invited to the 28th Anniversary Remembrance Service for three assassinated High court Justices. Among the distinguished guests was the Madame Chief Justice of Ghana (more like the president of the judiciary, way more relative power than John Roberts) the Deputy Attorney General and several Supreme, Appellate and High Court Justices, as well as a who’s who of Ghanaian lawyers. The service, hosted by Ghana’s Bar Association, and conducted by The Very Rev. Father Andrew Campbell, commemorates the lives of 3 high court justices, slain by revolutionaries for freeing individuals unlawfully imprisoned by the short-lived John Rawlings revolutionary government. Father Campbell, an Irish ex-pat who has lived in Ghana for almost 40 years, was brilliant. He spoke about the importance of forgiveness – “revenge is human, but forgiveness is Divine”. It was the best Roman Catholic service I’ve been to since I last attended Father Michael’s service at the St. Francis church in Hoboken as a boy of 11 or so. By and large it was a pretty traditional service except when the collection plate came around. At that point the choir busted out the African music from their set list and drums emerged from the woodwork. The Madam Chief Justice then led the congregation in a dance. The service closed with Ghana’s national anthem, marking the first time I’ve had the privilege of hearing the lyrics sung aloud. My experience with Pastor Smith and more so with Father Campbell is that I actually really enjoy church services. Once you get past of the monotony of the rituals and the brainwashing overtones of guilt (not present at all in Father Campbell’s service) church is really enjoyable. Perhaps I will shop around when I get back to the US for a good place to visit when I start to lose sight of what’s important in life.
Monday, June 28, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Weekend of June 18th
Amazing weekend. Hiked two mountains, swam under a water fall, danced it a traditional village festival and met some of the warmest people I've yet to encounter in Ghana.
As last weekend, the journey begins with a mad dash to find the correct tro-tro to our destination. I had an easier time finding the place on my own because I knew the name of the station and grabbed a cab from the barber shop ($1.40 for a haircut btw). There was a minor concern that we wouldn't be able to find our new friend, Jackye because we told her the station across the street and she retained her American phone number (global blackberry) but that notion was soon dispelled when me and Shara found her being led to us by a couple of Ghanians in our direction. Sometimes it really helps being the only Obrunis in an area because it is so easy to find each other. Indeed, while waiting for Andrea a random person declared to me “I think I see your sister up the Junction”, sure enough it was her. When we well all rounded up we set off for our 5 hour trip (2 hours of it was traffic in Accra). By the time we got to Hohea (spelling) we only had time to get to a guest house and knock out for a few hours before our hike.
At 5:30 am we headed to the mountain. Although the lovely owner of the guest house offered to make us breakfast, we didn't have time to wait for her to round up all of the ingredients.(side note: whenever you go to a restaurant to get a meal that is cooked to order, more likely than not someone from the shop has to go to a local market, round up all of the perishable ingredients, and cook everything from scratch. It makes for very fresh but very slow meals.) Instead we opted to buy some fresh bread near the tro-tro station, which was legit the best bread we've had here. For a 30 cents each (I kid you not), we each got a fresh loaf of bread, a bag of shelled peanuts and a piece of this little fried dough thing that tasted like KFC (from what I remember from like 6 years ago). Keep in mind that everything we eat in Ghana, for the most part, is organic. I eat caged free eggs almost every day with organic bread and fruit. The meal we had in Hoea in Whole Foods (or it's progeny) would have been at least $10, and probably not as good.
Mount Afijato is about 900 meteres, straight up. It was basically a vertical staircase in the rainforest with well placed rocks as steps. I was pretty happy that I'm still in shape from the end of last semester and that I wasn't out of breath. But poor Daan, all 4 feet of her, decided to wear jeans and was more than understandably having a hard time keeping up (and in retrospect I feel pretty bad for setting such a fast pace :-/). No matter, it gave us more time to enjoy the scenery on our way up the an amazing view of the volta river . Let me take this opportunity to say, sorry guys. You'll get these pictures when ya get 'em because it took me forever to upload one picture the other day. I'll see if I can email some to Terri for her to post.
When we got down we played the inevitable waiting game for a cab to the water fall. Eventually we made it over to the Entrance of Wili falls, but not before Shara asked a two random women if she can help them make fufu (a tamale like thing made from mashed maize). If she didn't know already, Shara came to find that this is strenuous business. First of all the stick they used was pretty damn heavy, Secondly, they make this dish is like playing music. They take a giant bowl with all of the ingredients. Then one woman moves the giant pieces of vegetable around while the other smashes this giant stick down with all of her might. One false move would certainly break a hand, but I think the teamwork is really illustrative of how much more collectivist the Ghanian culture is compared to the West. At the falls, our tour guide led us through a brisk 40 minute walk to the falls. After hot/sweaty day of walking/climbing there was nothing left to do but jump in the water. Me, Daan , Shara and Andrea made it pretty much right under the falls and Jackye (who wasn't interested in jumping in) got some amazing pictures that you'll just have to wait for :P. We pretty much ran back from there so we can make it back to the guest house to watch the Black Stars take on Australia. Of course not without an absurd transportation situation where we squeezed 8 people in the car, and one in the trunk...
There was a chop-shop right across the street from our place and we had some much deserved beers with some locals and waited the inevitable 90 minutes for lunch. The Draw that Ghana managed didn't evoke the insane celebration of the week before, but the result was good enough to set up a pivotal match against Germany on Wednesday, with Ghana controlling their own destiny (win or draw and we're in :) .
We went to town, of course the first tro-tro broke down and we squished 5 people into like 1 and a half seats.
When we got to Have' we were greeted by Pedro (who had some battle wounds from his village fishing expedition), Grandpa (they are big with the cool grandparents here) and Justice (yeah that's his real name). Both were extremely welcoming. Grandpa actually spent some time in the US, I believe he said working for the FAA …
Diego and Conrad followed soon there after with some of Pedro's work colleagues. Incidentally one of them was a high-school mate of Terri's. We all chipped in a buck to get some ingredients for jalloff rice, and Conrad whipped up a delicious batch. After a glass of a traditional welcoming drink (Guinness and palm wine cocktail...I don't recommend it) we headed to the dance festival. I really can't describe how awesome it was...but basically Google BorBorBor when you get a chance. Everyone gathered in this small area while a dance troupe performed in the middle. Then if you wanted to join the dancing circle you just made your way in (or if you're obviously not Ghanian one of the women will pull you in).
The next morning there was more celebrating of Agadavi. Every year the people of Have' commemorate the day when a huge mudslide (they say volcanic eruption but I think what happened was closer to a mud slide) occurred near town and no one was hurt “not even an animal”. Shara of course wanted to climb a second mountain and get up wicked early on the one day we have to sleep in :-/. So we met up with Diego and Justice, got Ginormous egg sandwiches for $1 and hiked the mountain. It was a great time but unfortunately the path to the top was covered in fallen brush so we couldn't make it all the way up.
When we got back people had arrived at the festival and they were collected money for a new community center. The place we stayed in was definitely not touristy or rich by any means. But they managed to raise about $4,000 US dollars which is an astronomical amount. There was some more dancing but we had to leave to get lunch started. We took all of the Talapia and some ingredients to the bar we went to the night before and the owner grilled up for those who ate fish.
Me and all of my housemates loved Have (“the town with no internet”). If there is a weekend where we do something twice it would probably be visiting that area again. Pedro's colleagues didn't like it so much and kind of complained that it was “removed from civilization”. You can't please everyone I guess. This weekend we're taking a break from traveling so far away. We're staying at a beach house called cocobrite (about 45 minutes outside of Accra) where Andrea knows a tribal chief. Needless to say it's gonna be another great weekend.
As last weekend, the journey begins with a mad dash to find the correct tro-tro to our destination. I had an easier time finding the place on my own because I knew the name of the station and grabbed a cab from the barber shop ($1.40 for a haircut btw). There was a minor concern that we wouldn't be able to find our new friend, Jackye because we told her the station across the street and she retained her American phone number (global blackberry) but that notion was soon dispelled when me and Shara found her being led to us by a couple of Ghanians in our direction. Sometimes it really helps being the only Obrunis in an area because it is so easy to find each other. Indeed, while waiting for Andrea a random person declared to me “I think I see your sister up the Junction”, sure enough it was her. When we well all rounded up we set off for our 5 hour trip (2 hours of it was traffic in Accra). By the time we got to Hohea (spelling) we only had time to get to a guest house and knock out for a few hours before our hike.
At 5:30 am we headed to the mountain. Although the lovely owner of the guest house offered to make us breakfast, we didn't have time to wait for her to round up all of the ingredients.(side note: whenever you go to a restaurant to get a meal that is cooked to order, more likely than not someone from the shop has to go to a local market, round up all of the perishable ingredients, and cook everything from scratch. It makes for very fresh but very slow meals.) Instead we opted to buy some fresh bread near the tro-tro station, which was legit the best bread we've had here. For a 30 cents each (I kid you not), we each got a fresh loaf of bread, a bag of shelled peanuts and a piece of this little fried dough thing that tasted like KFC (from what I remember from like 6 years ago). Keep in mind that everything we eat in Ghana, for the most part, is organic. I eat caged free eggs almost every day with organic bread and fruit. The meal we had in Hoea in Whole Foods (or it's progeny) would have been at least $10, and probably not as good.
Mount Afijato is about 900 meteres, straight up. It was basically a vertical staircase in the rainforest with well placed rocks as steps. I was pretty happy that I'm still in shape from the end of last semester and that I wasn't out of breath. But poor Daan, all 4 feet of her, decided to wear jeans and was more than understandably having a hard time keeping up (and in retrospect I feel pretty bad for setting such a fast pace :-/). No matter, it gave us more time to enjoy the scenery on our way up the an amazing view of the volta river . Let me take this opportunity to say, sorry guys. You'll get these pictures when ya get 'em because it took me forever to upload one picture the other day. I'll see if I can email some to Terri for her to post.
When we got down we played the inevitable waiting game for a cab to the water fall. Eventually we made it over to the Entrance of Wili falls, but not before Shara asked a two random women if she can help them make fufu (a tamale like thing made from mashed maize). If she didn't know already, Shara came to find that this is strenuous business. First of all the stick they used was pretty damn heavy, Secondly, they make this dish is like playing music. They take a giant bowl with all of the ingredients. Then one woman moves the giant pieces of vegetable around while the other smashes this giant stick down with all of her might. One false move would certainly break a hand, but I think the teamwork is really illustrative of how much more collectivist the Ghanian culture is compared to the West. At the falls, our tour guide led us through a brisk 40 minute walk to the falls. After hot/sweaty day of walking/climbing there was nothing left to do but jump in the water. Me, Daan , Shara and Andrea made it pretty much right under the falls and Jackye (who wasn't interested in jumping in) got some amazing pictures that you'll just have to wait for :P. We pretty much ran back from there so we can make it back to the guest house to watch the Black Stars take on Australia. Of course not without an absurd transportation situation where we squeezed 8 people in the car, and one in the trunk...
There was a chop-shop right across the street from our place and we had some much deserved beers with some locals and waited the inevitable 90 minutes for lunch. The Draw that Ghana managed didn't evoke the insane celebration of the week before, but the result was good enough to set up a pivotal match against Germany on Wednesday, with Ghana controlling their own destiny (win or draw and we're in :) .
We went to town, of course the first tro-tro broke down and we squished 5 people into like 1 and a half seats.
When we got to Have' we were greeted by Pedro (who had some battle wounds from his village fishing expedition), Grandpa (they are big with the cool grandparents here) and Justice (yeah that's his real name). Both were extremely welcoming. Grandpa actually spent some time in the US, I believe he said working for the FAA …
Diego and Conrad followed soon there after with some of Pedro's work colleagues. Incidentally one of them was a high-school mate of Terri's. We all chipped in a buck to get some ingredients for jalloff rice, and Conrad whipped up a delicious batch. After a glass of a traditional welcoming drink (Guinness and palm wine cocktail...I don't recommend it) we headed to the dance festival. I really can't describe how awesome it was...but basically Google BorBorBor when you get a chance. Everyone gathered in this small area while a dance troupe performed in the middle. Then if you wanted to join the dancing circle you just made your way in (or if you're obviously not Ghanian one of the women will pull you in).
The next morning there was more celebrating of Agadavi. Every year the people of Have' commemorate the day when a huge mudslide (they say volcanic eruption but I think what happened was closer to a mud slide) occurred near town and no one was hurt “not even an animal”. Shara of course wanted to climb a second mountain and get up wicked early on the one day we have to sleep in :-/. So we met up with Diego and Justice, got Ginormous egg sandwiches for $1 and hiked the mountain. It was a great time but unfortunately the path to the top was covered in fallen brush so we couldn't make it all the way up.
When we got back people had arrived at the festival and they were collected money for a new community center. The place we stayed in was definitely not touristy or rich by any means. But they managed to raise about $4,000 US dollars which is an astronomical amount. There was some more dancing but we had to leave to get lunch started. We took all of the Talapia and some ingredients to the bar we went to the night before and the owner grilled up for those who ate fish.
Me and all of my housemates loved Have (“the town with no internet”). If there is a weekend where we do something twice it would probably be visiting that area again. Pedro's colleagues didn't like it so much and kind of complained that it was “removed from civilization”. You can't please everyone I guess. This weekend we're taking a break from traveling so far away. We're staying at a beach house called cocobrite (about 45 minutes outside of Accra) where Andrea knows a tribal chief. Needless to say it's gonna be another great weekend.
June 24th -- Black Stars/ USA advance
Thanks to some last minute heroics from Landon Donavon, Josie Altadore and a caravan of red, white and blue charging toward the goal in the 92nd minute, the US is advancing to the round of 16. I got to witness the brillance at Epos Sport when I snuck over across the street. There I met up with Evans, a local kid that showed me how to get to my bus stop after my first day of work. He really wants to go to the United States to coach soccer (he walks with a limp so I assume that's why he has jumped right to coaching) but visas to the US are nearly impossible to get for young Ghanaians. He had a huge american flag draped around his back when I walked in and was pouring his heart in soul into urging our guys on. When we pulled off the game winning goal he exclaimed "oh I'm so excited, I think I almost cried!"
After the US match I came back and threw on my Ghana Jersey, some new Ghana shorts that my boss bought for me and my wrist and captain's band and left work early. Everyone always shouts "ay Stephen Apiah" at me when I wear my Black Stars Gear, I'm guessing because we both have shaved heads because my jersey doesn't have a name on the back. I picked up my house mates near my bus stop (minus Daan b/c it was "too hot") and we came back to Epos. We met up with Evans again and of course there were an insane amount of people in epos, but Evans saved us seats in the first row. The game was hard fought, and although the Black Stars lost 1-nil , we got a little help from Australia (who defeated Serbia) to make it into the round of 16. That's the good news. The most unfortunate world cup news for me, Drea and Evans is that because Ghana did not win their group (by losing to Germany) and the US won their group (by scoring more goals than England, even though they both have 1 win and 2 ties) the US and Ghana will now face off this Saturday at 2:30 pm eastern time. Drea and I are really torn up about it .
Firstly we both grew up supporting US soccer. As a soccer player in the US you are constantly told that your sport isn't tough enough, real or what have you. You're pushed around by the Football coach for use of the school's facilities, and that same coach will try to steal the best players on your team to be a kicker. Drea is also from Kearny, NJ which is soccer town, USA.
However we are now full supporters of the Black Stars. For all of the strife that Ghanians face everyday some how the one thing that will always put a smile on their faces is a proud performance by their men in red, green and yellow. We've both said that we won't watch the game and support who ever moves on to the round of 8. I bet Shara will make us watch it though. She thinks we're being selfish for even questioning who to root for during this game because Americans will soon forget this world cup squad if we in it all but Ghana would never forget the 2010 Black Stars should they even make it to the 1/4 final. Deep down I know she's right but I still can't bring myself to root against the USA.
So this weekend, I will not be not busting out the American flag shutter shades and I'm leaving my black stars jersey at home. Somebody let me know when it's over.
After the US match I came back and threw on my Ghana Jersey, some new Ghana shorts that my boss bought for me and my wrist and captain's band and left work early. Everyone always shouts "ay Stephen Apiah" at me when I wear my Black Stars Gear, I'm guessing because we both have shaved heads because my jersey doesn't have a name on the back. I picked up my house mates near my bus stop (minus Daan b/c it was "too hot") and we came back to Epos. We met up with Evans again and of course there were an insane amount of people in epos, but Evans saved us seats in the first row. The game was hard fought, and although the Black Stars lost 1-nil , we got a little help from Australia (who defeated Serbia) to make it into the round of 16. That's the good news. The most unfortunate world cup news for me, Drea and Evans is that because Ghana did not win their group (by losing to Germany) and the US won their group (by scoring more goals than England, even though they both have 1 win and 2 ties) the US and Ghana will now face off this Saturday at 2:30 pm eastern time. Drea and I are really torn up about it .
Firstly we both grew up supporting US soccer. As a soccer player in the US you are constantly told that your sport isn't tough enough, real or what have you. You're pushed around by the Football coach for use of the school's facilities, and that same coach will try to steal the best players on your team to be a kicker. Drea is also from Kearny, NJ which is soccer town, USA.
However we are now full supporters of the Black Stars. For all of the strife that Ghanians face everyday some how the one thing that will always put a smile on their faces is a proud performance by their men in red, green and yellow. We've both said that we won't watch the game and support who ever moves on to the round of 8. I bet Shara will make us watch it though. She thinks we're being selfish for even questioning who to root for during this game because Americans will soon forget this world cup squad if we in it all but Ghana would never forget the 2010 Black Stars should they even make it to the 1/4 final. Deep down I know she's right but I still can't bring myself to root against the USA.
So this weekend, I will not be not busting out the American flag shutter shades and I'm leaving my black stars jersey at home. Somebody let me know when it's over.
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