Day 30 (09-25-10)

Wake up call at 8am? Thanks Giggles. After breakfast, the Spain trio (Krystal, Giggles, and myself) walked around Takoradi for the morning. As usual, we got ourselves into some interesting situations. 

We walked from the port out into town on an excursion for stamps and random marketplace trinkets. When we got to town, our first stop was at a local grocery store. It was pretty hot and humid outside today, so some water and ice cream were essential. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any stamps. So we headed into the market circle and found the post office a couple blocks away. A few SAS students were walking out as we were walking in, and we were very fortunate with our timing. The three of us were looking to send 10-20 postcards each, and the bank was about to run out of international postcard stamps. Through some wheeling and dealing, we bought the last of them, along with some other stamp combinations that (hopefully) equaled the correct amount for international postage. I suppose I won’t know until people tell me if they’ve gotten them in the mail. Oh well.

After a quick ATM stop, we headed into the market so Krystal could get a Ghanaian flag. And here’s where things got interesting. While the girls were looking at random souvenirs, two Ghanaian men approached me and started a conversation. Since I have become accustomed to people heckling and bargaining to sell their crafts in places like Morocco and India, I wasn’t much surprised by this. But the people in this country are just so friendly and happy in all situations, so I was happy to talk with them and see what they had to share with us. They introduced themselves as Rasta and Black. Considering they were both Rastafarians from Ghana, these nicknames were amusingly generic. But they were artists from out of town that had come into Takoradi when they heard that Semester At Sea was in port. Some of their work was quite good, and Krystal and Giggles each bought artwork from them. During the discussion, they asked us if we were enjoying Ghana and Krystal mentioned that her only lament was missing out on the traditional West African dish called Fufu. Rasta and Black (né Jonathan and Alex) both started laughing and said, “We’re on our way to each some Fufu right now! Come with us!” So we did.

They walked us back into the main market circle, hailed a taxi, and we all piled inside. I think one of them ended up knowing the taxi driver, because the 10-minute trip through town didn’t cost us anything. We talked the whole time, and Krystal made a point of telling each of them that she is married (she isn’t) to avoid their potential advances. She’s black, and everyone here seems to be fascinated by the black American that has “come home.” They keep trying to marry her so that she’ll stay. It’s rather amusing.

We got to the restaurant/front porch of someone’s house and they led us inside. A few short moments later, we were being served the best traditional meal I’ve had so far this voyage. Fufu is a sort of dough/paste that is created with a blend of cassava, plantain, and yam. It is served with meat (goat meat in my case) and they are placed in a crazy spicy tomato-based broth. You don’t chew the Fufu, you instead place chunks of it in your mouth and swallow them whole. Supposedly it tastes better that way, but I thought it was just fine when I was a stupid tourist and unknowingly chewed it. Alex laughed at me for it and corrected us before we continued eating. Actually, the process of eating the meal is worth describing. First of all, there are no utensils, so all of the eating is done by hand. This would be perfectly fine, but I also have to mention rule number two: in Ghanaian culture, a person’s left hand is considered the “filthy” hand. When using the washroom, when blowing your nose, the left hand is the one that does the dirty work. Thus, it is considered rude and filthy to use your left hand when eating. So how does a left-handed American eat a bowl of Fufu in a room full of curious Ghanaians? Very carefully. It was a little bit difficult at first, mostly because the broth was burning hot, but we got the hang out it. You use your pointer and middle fingers as makeshift scissors and cut off the piece of Fufu that you want to eat. Then, you drag it through the broth to collect as much as you can, and you scoop it into your mouth and slurp it down. Luckily, the meat was so tender that it basically fell off the bone, so eating that one-handed was pretty easy. The broth was sinus-clearing spicy, and drinking it afterwards was difficult. I wanted to finish it, but it was too much. The combination of equator-level heat outside, intense humidity, and spicy food came together and forced me to take a breather. Great meal though.

After lunch, Jonathan and Alex walked us back through town and we stopped to talk to other SASers and some other locals along the way. A random teenager named Marvin hugged me and picked me up off the ground when I told him I was from Philadelphia. I don’t think he had any idea where that was, but he had been indulging in the ganja just before our conversation, and I think the whole thing was a way to mask the fact that he was trying to pickpocket me. But he wasn’t successful, so it was pretty funny anyway. Also, we stopped at a little shop to grab a reggae CD that Alex had recommended to us, and some random dude came up behind me and poked me on both sides of my waist. I was so confused. I turned around and there was just some old Ghanaian guy standing there with a big, goofy smile on his face saying, “Hey, it’s you!” I confirmed the assertion that, yes, it was in fact me. And then he tried to do a complicated handshake with me about 12 times until we left and he just followed us up the street for a while. None of us have any idea what was going on, but we got a good laugh out of it.

We walked back to the port and thanked the guys for taking us around town all day. I’m glad we stuck around with them, because we never would’ve found that food otherwise. Plus, they got us some great music and showed us around town. What a cool place Ghana turned out to be.

A late lunch, a shower, and the rest of the evening ensued on the ship. When the ship left the port, we went to one of the back decks and watched the locals put on a makeshift drumming and dance performance on the pier. They were sheering for us and shouting U-S-A! U-S-A! We would, of course, reply with GHA-NA! GHA-NA! They were just so welcoming and loved showing us around their country. I wasn’t expecting that type of hospitality. Amazing. Farewell, Ghana. 7 more days at sea until our next port… South Africa!