So my (first) stint in Ghana is coming to a close and I thought I'd let you all know how/what I'm feeling.
But first let me briefly update since I have been horrendous at doing so of late:
1) Eli visited for a week which was incredible. We hiked and I showed him the University/Accra. The definite highlight though was spending the night in a town that surrounding a monkey sanctuary. The people who live there, the Tafi, had long had the belief that the monkeys living in the forest near them were sacred and therefore there was a severe taboo against killing them. However, as traditional religions were eroded by missionaries and the introduction of Christianity, the Tafi began killing the monkeys for their meat. That is, until the Peace Corps intervened and helped the Tafi turn their town and the surrounding forests into a sanctuary. This was quite incredible for the people of Tafi Atome because the Peace Corps introduced a new way to make money (ie tourism) as well as built a school in the town. Even still, Tafi Atome is still a perfect example of the typical rural village with houses built of mud and palm leaves and wells for water. So Eli got to see a little of small town life and I got to learn about yet another language here in Ghana. Tafi is spoken by 4 interconnected villages in the Volta Region of Ghana. Remarkably, they've maintained the language even though all surrounding people speak Ewe. This is one of the many incredible things about African people: most, if not all Africans, are bi- or tri-lingual. I meet people daily who not only speak English but speak both their parents' dialects (many couples are made of two people from different tribes). For instance, my taxi driver just the other day had one parent who was Ewe (the people of the Volta and Eastern Region who can also be found in great numbers in Togo) and one who was Ga (the original people of Accra). Therefore he spoke both of these languages as well as English and Twi (the language spoken by most people in Accra and the Ashanti region - ie the majority group in Ghana). I quite often meet people just like him. It makes all of us Americans feel like idiots for barely speaking anything more than English. But I digress...At the monkey sanctuary, Eli and I woke up at 5:45 am and went on a guided walk. When we got to the edge of the forest our guide began making strange noises. All of a sudden, we heard some rustling in the trees and out jump 5 or 6 small monkeys. Two bigger ones and a few more small ones followed. Our guide handed us each a banana and told us to hold it firmly at the top and lean down while extending our hands. The monkeys slowly walked up to us one by one and stretched out their arms to our bananas. They ripped back the peel and started grabbing handfuls of bananas, stuffing it in their mouths. One little one even jumped up on Eli's arm and pried the banana out from behind. It was fabulous =).
2) Mona and I went to Togo for two days. For those of you less well versed in African geography, Togo is a sliver of a country located on the Eastern border of Ghana, just 3 1/2 hours from Accra. After a very cramped tro-tro ride in which my head kept getting smacked against the ceiling, we arrived in Aflao, the Ghanaian town that borders Togo. From there we literally walked across the border. It was the strangest immigration experience of my life, as well as the most terrifying. Everything was completely disorganized and the corruption was both obvious and rampant. I've rarely been so disgusted by government officials and Mona later told me that it made her feel literally nauseous. All West Africans have a passport that should allow them to pass West African country borders easily and for no cost, much like members of the EU can do in Europe. The reality of immigration here however is far from how it should be. While the Togolese officials were stamping our passports in what can only be described as an artistic manner, we witnessed another immigration officer arbitrarily separating the African travelers into two lines. One line was allowed to pass through with only a little pushing and the other was forced under a small roof where they would be poked and smacked with a stick until they forked over one or two Cedi (which could easily buy a small meal of rice and chicken for those who live hand to mouth). They seemed completely happy to strike whomever they chose be it a young man or a pregnant woman. If the person couldn't pay the officer she would be sent back and told to try again later. The worst thing about it all is that the people being abused seemed to almost expect it. They joked and laughed nervously when the officer struck or poked them. It was highly disturbing and yet this type of low level corruption is all too common in West African nations. Once we were through the terrifying process however, the fun began. Mona speaks perfect French (having gone to a French- English primary school) and I understood mostly everything but could only sometimes respond thanks to vocabulary blanks. We quickly hopped on the back of some taxi-motos (little motorcycles which are the main mode of transportation in Togo) and sped along the beach toward Lome, the capital of Togo. It was incredibly strange because it was clearly a city, unlike Accra which is more like a sprawling town with the odd ghetto here and there. It even had quite a French flair having been controlled France until it's independence. Mona and I spent the rest of the day exploring the city and found some fondue for dinner (so delicious). The next morning we went to see a little artisans village where we saw many of the same crafts that can be found in Ghana, with the exception of one particular craft: soapstone carving. They make beautiful bowls and other items carved completely and intricately out of stone. The previous night we'd made friends with a nice man named Martin who drives a taxi-moto and he offered to help us get around the city and see things, while making sure we didn't get ripped off. He took us to Togo-ville, a small run-down town across a river where there is a beautiful German Catholic church and where voodoo is strong and widely used. Unlike Ghana where Christians are mostly protestant, pentecostal, or evangelical, Togo is largely Catholic due to the French influence. Before the French controlled Togo it was known as German Togoland and was in the control of the Germans. Togo-ville even still flies the German flag. While we were there, Martin took us to meet the chief of the village. Unfortunately, he was ill so we met the Prince instead. He showed us the small museum (just a room full of ancient relics) and told us a bit about the local people. It is said that they came all the way from Egypt and that the mysticism and voodoo that is so pervasive in their society because of the Egyptian blood. Of course, he told us all this in French, so I missed a few details but overall it was really interesting. After that we took Martin out for dinner and a beer and then hopped a tro-tro back home.
3) My work at the camp went really well. For a few weeks I went around to all the classes above 7th year and did a self-esteem exercise that I wrote taking into special consideration that the students are refugees. It was the first therapeutic program I've ever written and I was quite proud of it. We also drew up budgets to start an agriculture and rabbit raising program so that the students would learn real, useful life skills while raising food that the students could eat at lunch time. Normally, a number of the students would come to class hungry, having not eaten in up to 48 hours. The students can't concentrate and I've watched many simply fall asleep because they are too weak to stay awake. Not only would the feeding/farming program solve this problem but more parents might be inclined to send their children to school if they could be fed there. The money that would normally be saved for food could be spent on school fees and the simple enticement of their children being fed might be enough for them to see the importance of school. The church where my mom is a very active partitioner has already discussed helping me raise money to start this program and I'm going to approach my sorority on campus about helping as well. If any of those reading are interested in donating, we'd happily welcome it. Just send a check to me and I will put it with the other money we raise. Like they say, any small amount helps. I also rounded up all of the things that my fellow international students were leaving behind and brought them to the camp. After bringing bags full of pots, pans, food, clothing, and first aid items and discussing the feeding/ farming program with the principle, I saw literal tears of gratitude brimming his eyes as he shook my hand goodbye. I can't even begin to explain how good it felt to help the kids and this man who has remained in the camp for the sole reason that he feels a responsibility to the refugee children.
So I leave in two days and I have incredibly mixed feelings about it. First off I'm just insanely excited to see my family and to see East Africa. But I'm going to miss Ghana in so many ways. I'm not sure exactly how to explain it all so I'll just give a few lists to give examples:
Things I'm going to miss about Ghana
That laid back attitude so many Ghanaians have
Hearing Twi and other African languages everywhere
The Refugee Community School, the students and the principle
Being able to get frozen chocolate milk in a bag nearly anywhere
Seeing African women walking gracefully with fruit on their heads and a baby bouncing on their back
Being surprised by new and different things around each corner
The people I've met
Exploring on the weekends
Faltering in African languages
The way food and other items are sold to you right through the car's window
The way time works (GMT: Ghana Maybe Time)
Just the feeling of being here - I can't explain it
Things I'm not going to miss
The heat
Actually being able to feel the heat roll off me when I step under the freezing water of the shower
Hearing one of three pop songs wherever I go
Insanely slow internet
Water running out
Power going out
Things I can't wait to get back to
Family and Friends
WASHERS AND DRYERS (Oh my god, I can't wait to not wash my clothes by hand - they NEVER get clean)
Salad
Television and film (I know, I know, but being away has been hard for a media junkie like me)
New York City!!!!
Bucknell
So goodbye Ghana or rather Ye beshyia-bio (see you again)
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
I think all Americans have a powerful love-hate relationship with Ghana and last week was a perfect example of just that. The weekend was fabulous, if not a little haphazard. A fellow student on my program and I traveled together to the most Western part of Ghana. We stopped first in Takoradi, a bizarrely metropolitan city by Ghanaian standards. The next morning we continuedto a small but beautiful coastal village called Beyin. It was from there that our true journey began. We boarded a small wooden canoe and our guide Gyasi (pronounced Jesse) pushed off into a small canal. The water was shallow and as Gyasi deftly propelled us forward he informed us that this canal was man-made ("donated" by the French). Soon the canal widened and lilies and lily pads began popping u left and right. The canal became thin again as we slid through the first of two jungles. Gyasi told us that early in the morning Mona monkeys could often be seen. He also pointed out various plants and their uses to his village: bamboo for fish traps, palm fronds for roofing, and full trees that would be hollowed out to make canoes. Because it was so late in the day, we were the only ones in the water and in the breaks between Gyasi's words, the stillness and quiet was overwhelming. Mona and I were wide-eyed and soaking everything in when Gyasi asked us to close our eyes as he counted to 10. We could hear him huffing and moving his arms faster as he said 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...9 1/2...9 1/2 again...10!! We both opened our eyes and gasped. We had come out of the canal and stretched before us was seemingly endless, flat, still, dark water. I will post a picture but it cannot possibly portray the beauty of this place. At this point, Mona and I started to help Gyasi with the paddling and about 20 minutes later, we were pulling up beside a "dock." It wasn't really a dock because it was smack-dab in the water and surrounded by small houses on stilts. These stilted buildings and dock make up the village of Nzulezu. We tethered our canoe and Gyasi led us down the walk way in the middle of "town." This village was entirely built on stilts in the Amansuri wetlands. Amansuri means "community water" in Nzema, the local language. Nzema is an Akan language as is the language I've been learning Asante Twi. A woman in the village cooked us dinner over a fire built in a tin can then Mona and I lay out on the dock as the sun set and the stars came out. Quiet fell over the village at about 9 o'clock and Mona and I spent the night in a small hut much like those the rest of the village live in. The next morning Mona and I played with the kids of the village until we were ready to head back to dry land. During the ride back our guide told us the story of how his people came to settle in the middle of the wetlands.
Hundreds of years ago the people of Nzulezu were living in Mali. However, the people of Senegal began killing and fighting them, finally driving them out of their homes and down towards the coast. It is said that their god took the form of a snail and led them from safe haven to safe haven. Each time their god felt that the enemies were coming, he set the tribe into motion again. One day, the snail plunged into a river. The people didn't quite know what to do so they cut down several trees, bound them together and used it as a raft. They floated down the river, finally opening up into the Amansuri wetlands. Here the snail popped out of the water and told the tribe that they would be safe here forever because it is so difficult to get to. This is where Nzulezu stands today. It has, in fact, kept the people of this village at peace for hundreds of years due to it's remote location.
It was on our trek back from Nzulezu that things began to go south. We successfully reached a bus that would take us back to Accra for only 7 cedi (score!) but it was when the bus started rolling that I began to realize just how long and painful this 4 hour bus ride was going to be. The minute we started to move a man stood in the middle of the aisle, bible in hand, and began leading a quite loud song and prayer session. Granted it was a sunday but most of the people on the bus had already been to church that morning and there was absolutely no regard for those who might have been Muslim.
Now this is something that I have avoided touching upon due to the fact that Religion is such a touchy subject world-wide but I feel like the telling of my personal journey in Ghana would be absolutely incomplete without it. I fully respect religion and those who are strong in their faith but a note to those who are reading: please feel no offensive when I share my own views on the subject. My experience here would be entirely different if I felt differently about religion and I feel that, from a sociological point of view, the way I feel about faith has been quite important.
Most of you who read this know that I was raised partially in the Catholic Church and partially in the Episcopal Church. Luckily, with that in mind, I have been quite equipped to answer the "Which church do you attend" question. This question is crucial. Which church do you attend? It is not a question of which faith you follow; it is a question of which denomination. This has been incredibly hard for two of my friends who are Jewish (as Mona, the girl who suffered through a 2 hour bus prayer session with me is). When they tell people that they are actually Jewish, they meet a few different responses. Some express disbelief, some seem to think that they simply "haven't found Jesus yet," some are flabbergasted, and many respond "You are the first Jew I've ever met!!" They are, however, met with a certain amount of mutual respect. For those with no faith whatsoever, as some of my fellow students have, the responses are absolute disbelief and a certain amount of "you are simply misguided." Most of the Southern region of Ghana, where I am located most of the time, is Christian. The Northern region, spreading into Burkina Faso and further, is mostly Muslim. The interesting thing is that, of course, traditional African beliefs have bled into both of these religions.
Now I am an incredibly spiritual person (which may shock some of you) but the fact that I don't belong to the Jewish, Christian, or Muslim faiths is something that people here simply don't understand. The idea of having "personal" beliefs is absurd to most Africans. During my time in Ghana, I have met some of the most devout people I will probably ever meet, which for many of the American students, especially those who major in Anthropology, African Studies, or even Religion, is hard to swallow. When you are simultaneously studying how those religions were brought here it's rather frustrating to sit in a bus with a man singing to you that there is nothing to be afraid of because God has a plan for you and your suffering is a part of it. Ironically, a lot of Africans' suffering today is a lasting effect left by those who brought Islam and Christianity to Africa. This does not in anyway mean that I think Africans' have less of a right to be Christian or Muslim; in fact, I think that both religions have been elemental in the strength that many Africans have shown over the years. It is simply something to ponder.
Back to the bus ride....the man's "sermon" went on for approximately two hours with the whole bus shouting and singing prayers (not in a very melodious way though). Luckily Mona and I shared my ipod and we had The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin and The Who to get us through it.
Once back on campus I began to realize that I wasn't feeling all that great. Several fevers and many stomach aches later a doctor was telling me I had Malaria - yipee! However, a shot and several pills cured me and in a few days I was starting to feel better, if not a little tired from the whole ordeal.
Later in the week my hard-drive crashed and I lost the vast majority of my documents and itunes library. In the United States this would have been a hassle but not detrimental. A drive to the nearest Mac store and two hours later, I'm sure it all would have been saved. Here it was quite aggravating. Also, throughout the week, the power and the water continued to go on and off, leaving my fevered self boiling hot and un-showered (not a happy combination).
This week was the perfect example of how I vacillate between love for and annoyance with Ghana all the time. I can go from absolutely stunning settings with completely unique people one day to bed-ridden and down-trodden the next. I will say, however, that all the little pains are worth it because where else in the world would I be able to wake up, canoe from a stilted village through two jungles to meet a strip of land that was touched, on the other side, not 50 feet away, by a gorgeous white sand beach and the Atlantic ocean? If you can find another place, let me know, but I have to say that Ghana is a country full a treasures, even if you have to stumble across a bit of junk from time to time.
Hundreds of years ago the people of Nzulezu were living in Mali. However, the people of Senegal began killing and fighting them, finally driving them out of their homes and down towards the coast. It is said that their god took the form of a snail and led them from safe haven to safe haven. Each time their god felt that the enemies were coming, he set the tribe into motion again. One day, the snail plunged into a river. The people didn't quite know what to do so they cut down several trees, bound them together and used it as a raft. They floated down the river, finally opening up into the Amansuri wetlands. Here the snail popped out of the water and told the tribe that they would be safe here forever because it is so difficult to get to. This is where Nzulezu stands today. It has, in fact, kept the people of this village at peace for hundreds of years due to it's remote location.
It was on our trek back from Nzulezu that things began to go south. We successfully reached a bus that would take us back to Accra for only 7 cedi (score!) but it was when the bus started rolling that I began to realize just how long and painful this 4 hour bus ride was going to be. The minute we started to move a man stood in the middle of the aisle, bible in hand, and began leading a quite loud song and prayer session. Granted it was a sunday but most of the people on the bus had already been to church that morning and there was absolutely no regard for those who might have been Muslim.
Now this is something that I have avoided touching upon due to the fact that Religion is such a touchy subject world-wide but I feel like the telling of my personal journey in Ghana would be absolutely incomplete without it. I fully respect religion and those who are strong in their faith but a note to those who are reading: please feel no offensive when I share my own views on the subject. My experience here would be entirely different if I felt differently about religion and I feel that, from a sociological point of view, the way I feel about faith has been quite important.
Most of you who read this know that I was raised partially in the Catholic Church and partially in the Episcopal Church. Luckily, with that in mind, I have been quite equipped to answer the "Which church do you attend" question. This question is crucial. Which church do you attend? It is not a question of which faith you follow; it is a question of which denomination. This has been incredibly hard for two of my friends who are Jewish (as Mona, the girl who suffered through a 2 hour bus prayer session with me is). When they tell people that they are actually Jewish, they meet a few different responses. Some express disbelief, some seem to think that they simply "haven't found Jesus yet," some are flabbergasted, and many respond "You are the first Jew I've ever met!!" They are, however, met with a certain amount of mutual respect. For those with no faith whatsoever, as some of my fellow students have, the responses are absolute disbelief and a certain amount of "you are simply misguided." Most of the Southern region of Ghana, where I am located most of the time, is Christian. The Northern region, spreading into Burkina Faso and further, is mostly Muslim. The interesting thing is that, of course, traditional African beliefs have bled into both of these religions.
Now I am an incredibly spiritual person (which may shock some of you) but the fact that I don't belong to the Jewish, Christian, or Muslim faiths is something that people here simply don't understand. The idea of having "personal" beliefs is absurd to most Africans. During my time in Ghana, I have met some of the most devout people I will probably ever meet, which for many of the American students, especially those who major in Anthropology, African Studies, or even Religion, is hard to swallow. When you are simultaneously studying how those religions were brought here it's rather frustrating to sit in a bus with a man singing to you that there is nothing to be afraid of because God has a plan for you and your suffering is a part of it. Ironically, a lot of Africans' suffering today is a lasting effect left by those who brought Islam and Christianity to Africa. This does not in anyway mean that I think Africans' have less of a right to be Christian or Muslim; in fact, I think that both religions have been elemental in the strength that many Africans have shown over the years. It is simply something to ponder.
Back to the bus ride....the man's "sermon" went on for approximately two hours with the whole bus shouting and singing prayers (not in a very melodious way though). Luckily Mona and I shared my ipod and we had The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin and The Who to get us through it.
Once back on campus I began to realize that I wasn't feeling all that great. Several fevers and many stomach aches later a doctor was telling me I had Malaria - yipee! However, a shot and several pills cured me and in a few days I was starting to feel better, if not a little tired from the whole ordeal.
Later in the week my hard-drive crashed and I lost the vast majority of my documents and itunes library. In the United States this would have been a hassle but not detrimental. A drive to the nearest Mac store and two hours later, I'm sure it all would have been saved. Here it was quite aggravating. Also, throughout the week, the power and the water continued to go on and off, leaving my fevered self boiling hot and un-showered (not a happy combination).
This week was the perfect example of how I vacillate between love for and annoyance with Ghana all the time. I can go from absolutely stunning settings with completely unique people one day to bed-ridden and down-trodden the next. I will say, however, that all the little pains are worth it because where else in the world would I be able to wake up, canoe from a stilted village through two jungles to meet a strip of land that was touched, on the other side, not 50 feet away, by a gorgeous white sand beach and the Atlantic ocean? If you can find another place, let me know, but I have to say that Ghana is a country full a treasures, even if you have to stumble across a bit of junk from time to time.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
This is me, Max, and Alexis pounding bark so that we can boil it to make ink for the Adinkra cloth.
This is me after dipping my stamp in incredibly hot ink. Here I'm shaking some of the ink off so that my stamp doesn't blur. As you might be able to see, I chose the symbols for versatility and wisdom.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Adinkra
Funtunfunefu-Denkyemfunefu: Democracy and unity
This is Mate Masi: Wisdom
Nkyinkyim: Versatility
Sankofa: remember and learn from your past
This past weekend, a portion of my whole group went to see Kumasi, the second biggest city in Ghana. It was similar to Accra in many ways except that it seemed far busier, faster, and has the biggest open air market in West Africa (seriously, it was a giant maze). On saturday morning we went to the village where they pring Andinkra cloth, the Bonwire Kente Village, and Lake Bosumtwi. I'm absolutely obsessed with the Adinkra symbols although I just realized I haven't mentioned them yet, so I'll explain now: The Ashanti people are members, along with several other tribes, of the Akan ethnicity, which makes up a significant portion of Ghana's population. The Ashanti are a powerful tribe that counts itself among the few to actually provide effective resistance against colonialism. They are fierce warriors with a legendary stubborness to survive and live freely, one of their most renowned mottos being "kill 1000 and in the morning, 1000 more will come." However, they also have a beautiful and rich culture, including one of Ghana's most famous crafts - kente, but I'll get to that. Less known, but certainly not less beautiful, are the Adinkra symbols. Some of these symbols are part of the collection of Ghanaian indigenous symbols, which were found in pre-historic art painted on cave walls. Adinkra, in Asante Twi, means "Goodbye." They are called this, at least in part, because they are printed on cloth which you wear to funerals, in order to send messages to the deceased and the gods. Today, they are still used for this purpose, but they are also used in art, architecture, jewelry, and many other things. Each has a twi name which explains it's meaning. Here are a few examples of my favorites:
Sankofa - meaning Go back and take. In other words, remember and learn from your past.
Mate Masie - meaning What I hear, I keep. In other words, wisdom.
Nkyinkyim - meaning Twisting. In other words, versatility
Funtunfunefu-Denkyemfunefu - roughly meaning Siamese crocodiles share one stomach, yet they fight. This symbol is a reminder that infighting and tribalism is harmful to all who engage in it. It is the symbol of democracy and unity
At the village they showed us how they grind bark with a large mortar and pestle and then boil it to make the ink. Afterwards we got to make some strips of Adinkra fabric on our own by stamping fabric. It was a lot of fun.
Next we went to Bonwire, where kente fabric is woven. One of the weavers gave us a quick lesson on kente and then we walked around to watch various weavers and make some purchases of our own. Deece and Seann had very generously given me a wonderful gift for my birthday to be spent in Ghana and I had been saving it for this! After walking around the building several times, I kept coming back to this one weaver. I asked about a few different pieces but my eye kept falling on one I knew was going to be more expensive because the number of different designs. Out of curiousity, I asked him the price. With a sort of guilty face he replied "Oh...that one's more expensive; my grandfather gave it to me." Shocked I asked why he was selling it. He told me that his grandfather had woven it 60 years ago and had given it to him as a gift to sell for school fees. I asked about the different designs and he told me each other their meanings: many heads are better than one, all hands are not created the same (diversity), and tolerance. He told me that the combination of those three designs are called the "unity" cloth. He had basically already sold me on it with the story about his grandfather but now it was a done deal. I am now happily the owner of a 2 beautiful yards of kente cloth. Thanks Deece and Seann!!!!!
After that we went to Lake Bosumtwi, a lake caused by a meteor crash hundreds of years ago. It is a common getaway place for wealthier people living in Kumasi and it was beautiful. The next few entries will be pictures!
Sankofa - meaning Go back and take. In other words, remember and learn from your past.
Mate Masie - meaning What I hear, I keep. In other words, wisdom.
Nkyinkyim - meaning Twisting. In other words, versatility
Funtunfunefu-Denkyemfunefu - roughly meaning Siamese crocodiles share one stomach, yet they fight. This symbol is a reminder that infighting and tribalism is harmful to all who engage in it. It is the symbol of democracy and unity
At the village they showed us how they grind bark with a large mortar and pestle and then boil it to make the ink. Afterwards we got to make some strips of Adinkra fabric on our own by stamping fabric. It was a lot of fun.
Next we went to Bonwire, where kente fabric is woven. One of the weavers gave us a quick lesson on kente and then we walked around to watch various weavers and make some purchases of our own. Deece and Seann had very generously given me a wonderful gift for my birthday to be spent in Ghana and I had been saving it for this! After walking around the building several times, I kept coming back to this one weaver. I asked about a few different pieces but my eye kept falling on one I knew was going to be more expensive because the number of different designs. Out of curiousity, I asked him the price. With a sort of guilty face he replied "Oh...that one's more expensive; my grandfather gave it to me." Shocked I asked why he was selling it. He told me that his grandfather had woven it 60 years ago and had given it to him as a gift to sell for school fees. I asked about the different designs and he told me each other their meanings: many heads are better than one, all hands are not created the same (diversity), and tolerance. He told me that the combination of those three designs are called the "unity" cloth. He had basically already sold me on it with the story about his grandfather but now it was a done deal. I am now happily the owner of a 2 beautiful yards of kente cloth. Thanks Deece and Seann!!!!!
After that we went to Lake Bosumtwi, a lake caused by a meteor crash hundreds of years ago. It is a common getaway place for wealthier people living in Kumasi and it was beautiful. The next few entries will be pictures!
Monday, October 26, 2009
Two of my friends, Matt and Libby, "hiking." I put this in quotes because we did less hiking and more stumbling down a hill. It was incredibly steep. I wasn't far from them here but it was so steep that it looks like I was. The path we were hiking was largely unmarked and the rainforest mostly untouched, it was stunning.
In order to reach the waterfall, we all had to repel down a short little cliff. It was so much fun (if not a bit terrifying)!
This is me, Layla and Alli and the bottom of the waterfall. We could stand right there but the rest of it was pretty deep. I'm wearing a tshirt and basketball shorts because I hadn't brought a swim suit, silly me.
Here is Alli, Layla, and me (left to right) again, dancing at the base of the waterfall.
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