After a hectic Friday evening in Accra, I spent Saturday through Tuesday along the Atlantic shoreline of Ghana. With Paul (UK) and Lauren I travelled to Ada Foah, a location I really knew nothing about, but Paul had suggested it after hearing from other volunteers. It took just under two hours by tro to reach Ada Foah, a seemingly desolate area with no beach in site. After walking for about five minutes, a young man offered us transport to the beach by boat. It sounded good enough, and just another tale for the storybook. As we walked to the beach along the Volta River, we passed large boats with motors, some with sails, and finally found a small canoe, covered in palm leaves, with a deal of water already in the bottom, though it was on land. After getting the three of us situated in the canoe, with two men paddling with oars that looked more like wooden tennis rackets than paddles, we set off. The water came within inches of flowing in over the top of the canoe, and thankfully we never were too far from shore.
The water was calm except for when the wake of another boat gave us quite a rocking. We saw quite a few expensive tourist homes along the beach as we headed for destination unknown. After about a 45 minute canoe trip, myself not enjoying the ride, unable to relax, we saw an oasis. After going through hell, there was paradise. There was a beach with thatched huts, each painted with a different flag on the door, the Maranatha Beach Club. This place was utterly relaxing. On one side was the coast of the Volta River estuary, and about 150 meters in the other direction was the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean. There was a slew of other volunteers who made the journey from Accra earlier in the day, but the beach was quiet, and it was not difficult to find a place to yourself.
I was about as weary as I had ever been that afternoon from the travels as well as some other issues I’ve been having here. This destination was perfect, but I needed more than one night to unwind. I decided to stay another day, and doing so left me as the single tourist at the resort on Sunday. A full day, with a full beach, a book to read, and time to myself. I would have stayed longer but I spent too much at the bar Friday night, and needed to get to Accra and use an ATM.
Leaving Ada Foah left me with a 45 minute walk along the Atlantic shoreline into town, as I couldn’t justify spending money on the boat ride back. Here I was accosted by many children, yelling “Stop, give me money.” There were also fisherman laying out the lines along the coast, doing this journey alone really forced me to take in the culture of daily life.
After my stop in Accra, I hired a dropping taxi to take me to Kokrobite, another beach town. This town came with warnings of crime, but it also was supposedly the best place to learn about Ghanian music, something that interested me greatly.
I lodged at the Academy of African Music and Arts, once again the only person at the resort. The encampment was beautiful, and hosts live performances on Sundays. I was a day too late. There was no beach here, but rather a rocky shoreline which was just fine with me. I was able to pay for an hour of drum lessons, and played a palago drum. My instructor also gave me a good deal of background information on the drumming. He wishes to teach music in America, and asked me to pass along his website www.samueltagoe.com.
After a good meal of chicken and rice, I walked to another resort, where I had heard was Rastafarian community. There was. I befriended two, and played some drums with them before venturing home as it was getting dark.
The next day I left to see the Solo Forest Monkey Sanctuary, AKA Solo Forest Foundation. I came because I saw it mentioned in my guide book, but had no idea what to expect. After finding a road leading nowhere, I walked alone for about 10 minutes, no forest in sight. All of a sudden I was at a clearing and crossing a small pond, entered a community of about 10 people, true rastas. I came for a chance to see monkeys, though I expected to have come to late in the morning to do so. I payed my fee, and after seeing a spot-nosed monkey hop above my head for a while, learned about the area from the leader, Kokomete (I fear I’ve misspelled that).
The land belonged to his great grandfather (chief of the area many moons ago), and 10 years ago, it was being cut down, animals extinguished by gunfire. Five years ago Kokomete moved in, and began protecting the land, trying to preserve the last bit of natural beauty in the area. He told me he has 130 acres, most of which being out on islands where he offers boat tours through a mangrove swamp. I saw about 3 acres of land where I was. It truly was a Solo Forest amongst a growing population.
I was asked how I heard of the location, as there were no indications along the road. I showed the small paragraph in my guide book, to their amazement. I tore out the page and gave it to them.
The area I was at was at an in-progress stage. About 10 people reside in the community, with a village of mainly children very near. Kokomete has the children work to clean the land, and gives them money for food and cares for them as they do not have many adults in their lives. There is a site for a restaurant area, as well as areas designated for guest houses so that they can build revenue from tourists in the future. However there is not much in terms of resources, financial or manpower. The project is years from completion, as reforestation is their primary goal, with a need for a fence to surround and preserve what is left. They said they have a website in the works, but a developer has run off with their money as of late. Despite the problems, they will persevere and I expect within 20 years the forest to be in a state of repair. There is already an heir apparent for the land, and I wish them only the best. Already they have established a cleaner source of water, forbidding bathing in it. It is an educational process that is taking place, but this is not something that happens overnight.
This last weekend, traveling alone allowed me to really gain a cultural insight that most tourists probably miss. As I was alone, I was forced to interact with locals, and see their perspective. I found the people in Kokrobite to be the most friendly as well as most laid back in Ghana thus far. However, there is much left to see on my journey.
The water was calm except for when the wake of another boat gave us quite a rocking. We saw quite a few expensive tourist homes along the beach as we headed for destination unknown. After about a 45 minute canoe trip, myself not enjoying the ride, unable to relax, we saw an oasis. After going through hell, there was paradise. There was a beach with thatched huts, each painted with a different flag on the door, the Maranatha Beach Club. This place was utterly relaxing. On one side was the coast of the Volta River estuary, and about 150 meters in the other direction was the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean. There was a slew of other volunteers who made the journey from Accra earlier in the day, but the beach was quiet, and it was not difficult to find a place to yourself.I was about as weary as I had ever been that afternoon from the travels as well as some other issues I’ve been having here. This destination was perfect, but I needed more than one night to unwind. I decided to stay another day, and doing so left me as the single tourist at the resort on Sunday. A full day, with a full beach, a book to read, and time to myself. I would have stayed longer but I spent too much at the bar Friday night, and needed to get to Accra and use an ATM.
Leaving Ada Foah left me with a 45 minute walk along the Atlantic shoreline into town, as I couldn’t justify spending money on the boat ride back. Here I was accosted by many children, yelling “Stop, give me money.” There were also fisherman laying out the lines along the coast, doing this journey alone really forced me to take in the culture of daily life.
After my stop in Accra, I hired a dropping taxi to take me to Kokrobite, another beach town. This town came with warnings of crime, but it also was supposedly the best place to learn about Ghanian music, something that interested me greatly.
I lodged at the Academy of African Music and Arts, once again the only person at the resort. The encampment was beautiful, and hosts live performances on Sundays. I was a day too late. There was no beach here, but rather a rocky shoreline which was just fine with me. I was able to pay for an hour of drum lessons, and played a palago drum. My instructor also gave me a good deal of background information on the drumming. He wishes to teach music in America, and asked me to pass along his website www.samueltagoe.com.
After a good meal of chicken and rice, I walked to another resort, where I had heard was Rastafarian community. There was. I befriended two, and played some drums with them before venturing home as it was getting dark.
The next day I left to see the Solo Forest Monkey Sanctuary, AKA Solo Forest Foundation. I came because I saw it mentioned in my guide book, but had no idea what to expect. After finding a road leading nowhere, I walked alone for about 10 minutes, no forest in sight. All of a sudden I was at a clearing and crossing a small pond, entered a community of about 10 people, true rastas. I came for a chance to see monkeys, though I expected to have come to late in the morning to do so. I payed my fee, and after seeing a spot-nosed monkey hop above my head for a while, learned about the area from the leader, Kokomete (I fear I’ve misspelled that).The land belonged to his great grandfather (chief of the area many moons ago), and 10 years ago, it was being cut down, animals extinguished by gunfire. Five years ago Kokomete moved in, and began protecting the land, trying to preserve the last bit of natural beauty in the area. He told me he has 130 acres, most of which being out on islands where he offers boat tours through a mangrove swamp. I saw about 3 acres of land where I was. It truly was a Solo Forest amongst a growing population.
I was asked how I heard of the location, as there were no indications along the road. I showed the small paragraph in my guide book, to their amazement. I tore out the page and gave it to them.
The area I was at was at an in-progress stage. About 10 people reside in the community, with a village of mainly children very near. Kokomete has the children work to clean the land, and gives them money for food and cares for them as they do not have many adults in their lives. There is a site for a restaurant area, as well as areas designated for guest houses so that they can build revenue from tourists in the future. However there is not much in terms of resources, financial or manpower. The project is years from completion, as reforestation is their primary goal, with a need for a fence to surround and preserve what is left. They said they have a website in the works, but a developer has run off with their money as of late. Despite the problems, they will persevere and I expect within 20 years the forest to be in a state of repair. There is already an heir apparent for the land, and I wish them only the best. Already they have established a cleaner source of water, forbidding bathing in it. It is an educational process that is taking place, but this is not something that happens overnight.
This last weekend, traveling alone allowed me to really gain a cultural insight that most tourists probably miss. As I was alone, I was forced to interact with locals, and see their perspective. I found the people in Kokrobite to be the most friendly as well as most laid back in Ghana thus far. However, there is much left to see on my journey.
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