Ghana-time 2

Bolga

On the 20^th of May we departed for the North. We barely caught our 8:00 am bus (despite plans and efforts to take taxis to the station at 5:50 am…ah Ghana-time*). During our 13 hour bus ride, we passed through the tropical southern regions full of palm trees. Families gathered in the shade, students in their matching school uniforms and hand-me-down backpacks ran along the side of the road, women tended stands displaying pyramids of tomatoes, mangoes, cassava, and plantains. The tin-roofed buildings and houses advertised cell phone companies in bright hues of “Glo” lime green, “Vodofone” red, and “MTN” yellow. Ghana presents a strange juxtaposition of technology (like cell phones) with traditional living (like subsistence farming).

We spent the night in Tamale, and in the morning our group of 12 completed our voyage to Bolgatanga (or as it shall heretofore be called, Bolga) in a huge van with luggage piled on top. Along the ride, the tropical scenery changed to bucolic landscapes. “Goats! No, that’s a sheep! Those are goats! Cows! Chickens! Ooo, a guinea fowl!” Lime green, red, and yellow structures were replaced by huts with red-mud walls and beautifully thatched roofs. Palm trees became scrubby bushes and Baobab trees punctuating fields littered with scraps of plastic bags and trash.

Although slightly delayed with a flat tire on the outskirts of Bolga, we made it to the Catholic Social Center by noon. The 5 girls, my fellow researchers and I, share a dorm room with 6 “Madeline-style” twin beds all in a line. We have two ceiling fans, one sheet on each bed, screens on our windows, and a sink in the corner. It’s really quite homey. There are 4 showers and 4 toilets across the courtyard from our room, metal basins for washing clothes, and clothes lines strung around the courtyard’s perimeter. The courtyard is perfect for morning yoga (yes, I brought my yoga mat with me!) Mary, the Social Center manager, greets us as we head out “to the field” for research or down the street for mangoes; she keeps an eye out for us.

Bolga is adorable. I much prefer it to the hectic bustle of Accra. Bolga is quaint and quiet. We can walk to the bank, the “supermarket,” any of the three restaurants (Comme si comme sa, Swaps, or Traveler’s Inn), and the Internet Café (where I am currently seated—I bought three hours this time…the internet is a bit slower than I’m used to and I barely checked my email on the first attempt earlier this week). Ghanaian hospitality reaches a whole new level in Bolga. Children eagerly say hel-LO-o and wave as we pass. The women smile and offer a reserved “Bulika” (good morning) and a couple men even asked us to marry them (luckily men don’t pester us in general). We definitely draw attention with our big backpacks and light skin, but I feel safe here. There are tons of goats and sheep wandering along the streets (taxis and motorbikes honk to shoo them out of the way). Pigs nudge through the contents open sewer/drainage-ditches lining the road, and skinny, scrappy dogs poke into the shops.

Continued...