Back to Cape Coast
Our second day in Accra was just as productive as our first. We went to immigration and got re-entry visas (theoretically issued next week), had some more meetings with the various agencies we are trying to work with here (all of whom were incredibly congenial and receptive … I am happier and happier each day that we chose Ghana within which to shoot), and then headed to the Accra Mall.
After our first attempt last month failed miserably (with a cabbie trying to rob us and someone who I am sure meant well [but didn’t know where the mall was] giving us directions that were off by 10km or so) we still wanted to drop in and see the mall, if only to see what passes as “Western shopping” here.
Let me say that the mall lives up to the hype, at least for Ghana. If you blindfolded me, flew me 20hrs on a plane, and unmasked me in the Accra Mall, I might not know I was in Africa. It’s air conditioned, has many of the typical shops of a mall, has restrooms (this is a big deal), and definitely has Western pricing. We had some pizza (which we both gave a “2” on the 1-10 scale) and a cup of gelato that was advertised as ice cream but wasn’t quite either. After our $22Cedi meal we headed to the book store, as there are a couple of books on development I meant to read before we left but didn’t have the chance. The book store wasn’t quite up to the megabookstore standards of the States (nothing on development, anthropology, etc), but did have a reasonable selection of Bill Bryson. I’ve already read all his books though, and at $20-40Cedi each I wasn’t terribly enchanted with picking anything up. There was a coffee table photo book of Ghana I began to browse and had high hopes for, but the Central Region rated only about 10 pages (mostly devoted to gold), and I put it down after that.
I found myself to aghast at the $20Cedi cost of a book, or the $8Cedi cost for a cup of gelato that I am wondering how much of a shock NY is going to be for me. I’ve become accustomed to catching a taxi in Cape for the equivalent of $1.50, or buying dinner for two at a decent restaurant for $6. When we were coming into Accra I scoffed at the idea of staying at a $40USD/night hotel, so I’m not sure how easily I’m going to transition to NY, where hotel will surely be several times that amount.
After the mall we might’ve caught a ride back to Cape Coast with the Red Cross, but they weren’t sure what time they would be leaving, and so we decided to chance a trip to the STC station and wait around for the 5:30 bus.
Exiting the mall we immediately got hissed at, which I thought was weird since taxis are only allowed at the very fringes of the mall parking lot. A young (about my age) kid asked if we needed a ride and I told him yes, to the STC. He quickly gestured to follow him.
This is one way people try to milk you for more than you might pay for a ride, by simply avoiding the cost all together and hoping you won’t notice, care, or know better. I quickly asked how much and he responded $15Cedi. Way too much. We’ve traveled twice the distance for $8Cedi plenty of times in Accra. By this time we were at his car, which wasn’t at the fringes where a taxi ought to be, had a white plate (taxis have yellow plates), and no bright body panels (the front and back panels of taxis are orange).
He had a “Commonwealth of Massachusetts” registration sticker inside the windshield, and I asked about it. He had no clue what Massachusetts was. We thanked him and explained we were going to get a proper taxi with yellow plates. I still have no idea exactly what this was all about, since it was a pretty nice (Honda) and newer car — whomever owns that car can afford a taxi license, and I suspect he wasn’t the owner since he had no idea what Massachusetts was.
We haggled with 2 more [actual] taxis until we found a $10Cedi ride, which I guess wasn’t bad considering traffic (it would take us 70-90 minutes or so to get there). We ended up with the first ‘crazy’ taxi driver we’ve had. I use the word ‘crazy’ in the colloquial sense, in that he drove ‘like a madman.’ Most Ghanaians I have encountered are very laid back, and their driving is generally in this style. This fellow was cutting people off, cussing at them, zipping through parking lots, and doing all manner of things to get us 10 feet further in the parking lot of cars on Accra’s freeways. At one point we actually rubbed against a trotro that refused to be cut off by us.
The ride was so intense that it left Miranda quite seasick, and left me with an appreciation of how much Ghana has grown on me. Ghana is a slow seductress, I guess. I didn’t notice it at first, but the combination of good, helpful people who are always happy to exchange pleasantries, the laid back attitudes, and the overwhelming positivity (in the face of a lot of financial hardship) Ghanaians exhibit really has grown on me. I am still looking forward to New York — I’ll get to see my family, eat some pizza, do all sorts of awesome things at the UN, but at the same time after our hectic taxi ride I suspect as soon as we de-plane I am going to begin missing Ghana, especially Cape Coast.
We ended up at the STC at around 3:40, well early for our Cape Coast bus. I’d forgotten that there is a bus that goes further, though (to Takarodi), and you can buy a ticket for further journeys and then alight at your desired stop. So long story short, the bus was there and about to leave. Yet more phenomenal luck with not waiting for buses in Ghana.
The STC makes you put your bags under the bus, and a guide we have warns not to stow anything of value. Therefore we normally end up handcarrying on about 60lbs of film gear (trying our best to look as if we aren’t carrying 60 lbs of gear that probably ought to be stowed under the bus). This time I decided to try a different tack. Normally they charge for stowing bags, usually $1-2CEDI per bag (based on weight). Our tickets were $4CEDI each. I wondered if I could just buy a seat for each bag.
I’m not sure if I’m officially allowed to do this, but we insisted that is what we wanted to do, and they said fine (although it was clear they thought we had mental problems for not wanting to stow our bags and save a few Ghana Cedi). So maybe our “dirty hippie backpacker” camouflage is working — for security reasons it would be nice if it wasn’t obvious the value of what we were carrying in our bags.
The problem with stowing is that the bus makes several stops and at each stop they open the stowage, some people get off, grab their bags and go. It would be easy for someone to grab your bag and leave theirs (meanwhile you are 8 feet up, still on the bus, unable to see because the stowage panel blocks your view when it is opened to allow access to under the bus).
The bus driver is supposed to get off and check the ticket on the bag and make sure it matches that of the person who is grabbing said bag, but in practice we have found this doesn’t always happen. (On our trip into Accra we both grabbed our packs and walked off without anyone so much as noticing.)
So, anyway, if you come to travel in Ghana and want to bring your pack on the STC, spend a few extra Cedi and it seems quite possible.
We arrived in Cape, walked to our domicile, dropped our gear, and headed out to leave a note for some people from the local cafe (that supports the NGO school) that we were planning to film Friday. Almost as soon as we were walking I felt a sense of relief wash over me.
Our trip to Accra this time was much smoother than our foray into that city. I’ve learned a lot about the area (and how to handle various situations) in the last month, and we did much better in Accra with our newfound knowledge. That said, Accra is still very big, full of traffic, and expensive. Cape Coast is much more my speed — a medium sized beach town where I can navigate almost anywhere, catch a taxi across town for $4Cedi at most, and where you are almost always within sight of the ocean. If we head to the northern regions to film I think being away from the ocean will definitely be one thing I notice.
And so Cape Coast now finds itself on a list of cities, cities in which I feel at home, even if I don’t consider them my home.
