Volunteering in Ghana - Day 15

Day 15

Woke up (Still no butchering by the saw puppet man). Saw Glenn lying in the bed next to me, rolled out of bed, after the usual morning wrestle with the mosquito net. avoiding conflict with the floor, that could not have been cleaned since the compound was made by slipping on my flip flops or as they call them in Australia: thongs. Which in my experience only causes confusion when the middle aged man you're staying with tells you that you need to get some thongs.

I walked across the compound for my morning poo. But there was someone shaving in there. So I sat on what I think was a well with a slab of metal covering it. (I forgot to mention that the taboo subject of poo is a subject thrown around the volunteers and it is an acceptable topic of conversation, even at the dinner table. I learned in Africa girls do actually poo. But in England they don't. That's what I choose to believe anyway.) So yes someone was shaving in the toilet from Saw. It turned out to be Glenn "the shape shifter" Davis. I stared at him like I just witnessed him walking on water. Glenn was really confused as I said to him in awe "How did you do that?" Glenn must have thought I'd been drugged. It turned out that I must have fallen asleep after seeing Glenn lying asleep and then woke up presuming he was still there - what a misunderstanding. Or that's what Glenn said happened anyway. I'm on to you! What a crazy life I lead.

The daily routine was beginning to run really tired but the realisation that there were only two days left of the routine dragged us through. Also the fresh perspective and enthusiasm of Sean seemed to help a lot.

Whenever Joe and I are absent from the group, conspiracies seem to emerge, and yes they always seem to be right, we have snuck off for a cheeky beer, usually on the way to going somewhere or when getting food. Nap time is also a good opportunity.

Tonight Sean, Joe and me were sent out to get some Veg. It was pretty late and all the veg was used up in the food for the orphans. Nowhere in Santrokofi was open or would have any more veg until market day. We needed to get to Hohoe which is about a ten minute drive. After standing by the roadside to flag down a taxi, for what seemed forever. The only taxi we saw parked outside a spot or as we call them bar to cross the road to get a drink. So we spoke to him at the bar telling him we were on a vegetable hunt, getting a couple of road beers at the same time. Going against my better judgment getting in the banger racer cab with a driver who's drinking a bottle of something in the front. As soon as we got to Hohoe the driver told us "I don't think the market is open, you won't be able to get these things." Now he tells us. But we were determined not to come back empty handed as the rest of the group would have thought we had just gone to a bar the whole time.

We asked a few people who had stalls and one woman told us to follow her. It was quite a long walk weaving through mud huts and makeshift wooden stalls till we found a small community of mud huts with like a court where they prepared things for market. I think we paid over the odds but we didn't mind. We arrived back to Santro and returned our beer bottles to the spot. In Ghana beer is usually served in a bottle and the bar needs to return the bottles to the brewery otherwise they get a fine. The woman who works there told us we owed her bottles from the night before. Which we had given back to the wrong bar. We owed bottles all over town. Joe came up with a genius idea of buying some beers from the other bar on Harrison's walk home and then dropping them back on the way home. Since the iphone incident Harrison's grandmother would not allow him to stay over night, so every night we would walk him to the second village of Santro and then back again in the pitch black. After dropping him off and talking to his grandma we headed back.

We got back to the first town and a man started shouting at us from across the road. It wasn't aggressive it was like he knew us. He crossed the road and said "It's me Richard, the hunter" who we had seen with a gun in the forest on one of our day walks that week. Richard was very proud of his name because after everything he said he would mention " That is why I'm called Richard" He seemed pretty normal to us and wanted to walk us home. Which of course means lets go via a bar. He ordered himself a triple abatasi, The drink which burns your insides and then leaves your mouth with a horrible after taste but the round cost about 30p so who's complaining.

We were already late meeting the volunteers and we felt we should invite him to come to the bar with us. But Richard really dominated the conversation and went on a massive rant about his life and how his wife would do anything he asked. Kinza said to him "So if you called her and said I have 15 yavoo's here who are hungry and she would get up and cook for us" And then a number of other scenarios where thrown at him. I could tell that everyone was angry with me and Joe for inviting him there although I think it was entertaining. He would keep saying "Ask anyone about my stories they will tell you" Then he would tell us anyway. Eventually he did leave and then we just did impressions of him.