Accra

On our first full day in Ghana, we hopped in the group mini-bus and took a tour of Accra.  Despite its population (roughly 2 million people), central Accra felt small and unobtrusive.  High rises were reserved for Western hotels, new residences and a few lone banks.  The rest of the city spread across a large area of two and three stories buildings, shopping malls and the shanty town area of Jamestown.  The colonial past of the city was felt in parts of Jamestown in particular--complete with a polo ground and an old British-style town hall.  The remains of the area are a bit run down:  

                                      

Across the street from here, we had a stunning view of the sea.  And as we drove past, a group of boys playing football waved, sang and one particular cheeky one stuck his middle finger out smiling and laughing the whole time.  Our driver, Ellis, blamed western television.  The view: 

                                     

look closely for the man dancing alone to the rhythm of the sea 

                                     

                                     

At our next stop, the Kwame Nkrumah museum, we were regaled with the history of the founder of modern Ghana.  Nkrumah saw Ghana through to independence from Britain and served as the country's first president before a coup took over the country and sent him into exile.  The museum was an ornate homage to kitsch memorabilia--including the pen Nkrumah wrote with, the desk he sat at and the phone he used to make a call to a person of relevance.  

The apparent story behind this statue is that it was vandalised during the coup and thieves removed its head and it disappeared.  

However, forty years after the coup, some granny rocked up to the museum with Nkruma's head (in statue form) relatively intact.  Why they haven't tried to put the head back on the statue is a mystery to me...

We moved on to the coffin stores because Ghana is also famous for its decorative coffin industry.  Apparently this has roots in tradition--a tradition where the relative monied of Ghana would be buried in a coffin that represented their profession.  For example, if you were a goat farmer, you'd be buried in a goat (made of wood, that is).  Now, quite clearly, this has got out of hand and a little bit commercial because I don't know anyone who is:  

                                                 

a Nike shoe maker (Malaysia is Nike's sweatshop country of choice, not Ghana)

         

a crab farmer? 

It was surreal, a little bit morbid and very cool.  

Finally we stopped at a shopping mall that resembled a slightly crap version of Lakeside Mall in Michigan.  It came complete with two grocery stores, a fabric shop and various electronic goods establishments.  

      

Surprisingly, it was ketchup heaven.  

And back to the teaching!