Waka Waka Africa

Greetings folks.  Sorry it has been so long since my last update.  I have been on a whirlwind tour of the lovely continent they call Africa.  As I write this entry, we are zipping our way across the Indian ocean on our way to Port Louis, Mauritius.  This port is more of a "spring break" for us SASers--but more on that later..

The last time that I left you I was on my way to Takoradi, Ghana.  Let me start by saying that this was my favorite port so far.  If Morocco was the country where I lost myself, Ghana was surely a place of rediscovery.  The immediate harbor area offered a small duty-free liquor store, some tables to sit and drink, and a few vendors selling miscellaneous items.  Here I bought a drum that will be quite the pain in my ass to get home from California, but that is besides the point.  A ten minute walk was all that separated us from the crazy world that was Ghana.  The people there were the nicest that I have ever met.  I was immediately greeted with similes, waves, and handshakes (I'll teach you all the Ghanaian Snap when I get home).  Unlike Morocco, the poverty here was instantly apparent.  Every roadside featured an open trench in which raw sewage was washed straight into the ocean.  Needless to say, the country had a distinct smell that I grew to love.

The markets there were hectic and busy.  Rather than the usual touristy wares, vendors instead sold things like dried fish, raw meat, used shoes, and loose fabrics.  Everywhere there were women walking around with massive bowls of you-name-it balanced on their heads.  After I realized there was not much there for me to buy, I stopped to grab a soda on the side of the street (it was stifling).  I wanted to walk down the street with my Fanta, but the woman who sold it to me would not let me leave her stall.  A large portion of her income came not from selling the soda, but from turning in the glass bottles to be recycled.  There were many different kinds of programs like that in Ghana.  Most people drink their water from little plastic bags that are sold in huge packs.  When they are done they simply toss the bags on the ground.  A company called Trashy Bags then hires people to go around and collect the bags.  Once collected, the bags are turned into jewelry and re-sold.  There seemed to be a very conscious effort to reduce the amount of waste each community produced.  However, there were still random piles of trash throughout the city of Takoradi.  We learned that country is paid big bucks every year to take-in old electronic waste from the developed world.  Standing out and looking over the endless mounds of computers is heartbreaking, to say the least.  The US and others label these shipments as donations--but in reality, a few functioning computers are thrown in with a heap of decaying machines.  The hard metals and plastics leech into the soil and are washed into nearby populated areas.  Groundwater is contaminated and agricultural lands are rendered lifeless.  If you have ever thrown out an old computer, there is actually a good chance that it is rotting somewhere in Takoradi right now.

On a lighter note, I spent the night in a village a few hours away from the city.  The people there lived in small adobe-like houses along with their cats, pigs, and goats.  Running water was introduced to this region not more than ten years ago.  I stayed with a 20 year-old guy named George (his Christian name).  He just finished school and aspires to be a DJ.  I will never forget the time I spent there.  I walked all around the village--seeing the sites and meeting the people.  What I will remember most from my time there will be the children.  At every turn more and more would run up to say hello and hold my hand.  Some of the younger ones were terrified of others in my group because they had never seen white people before.  I would have loved to play football with the kids, but I could barely walk because more than half of my left foot was a giant, open blister.  Lets just say don't dance barefoot on sketchy Ghanaian concrete.  Besides sitting out for the game, I went through a traditional ceremony where I was given an African name and welcomed into the community.  The family that I stayed with owned one of the two bars in the village.  After dinner we drank and danced into the wee hours of the morning.  That night I slept in a tiny room that also was home to a baby sheep.

Speaking of drinks, the nightlife in Ghana was way crazier than expected.  Once one wades through the sea of prostitutes and drunks, the clubs are actually quite amazing.  There is a certain Shakira song titled "Waka Waka" that every single person in Africa knows.  At every place I went to, this tune was played every third song (I shit you not).  I'm still struggling to get it out of my head.  Local beers are cheap and delicious.  Even the crew of the Explorer had fun.  On the last night one of the captains was the drunkest person at the duty-free store.  I watched him pour brandy onto a student, completely collapse the table I was sitting at, and pee in the bathroom sink.  I think that pretty much sums up the port.  Ghana is a beautiful place that will always have a special place in my heart.  I will most definitely return sooner rather than later.

I would continue on about my adventures in South Africa, but rumors of an 8am lifeboat drill tomorrow are making me think it is time for bed.  Not to worry, I have plenty of time to update you all as we head for the island paradise of Mauritius.  Get excited because the things that I did in South Africa are beyond epic.  Pictures and videos should be slowly trickling onto Facebook and Youtube.  Just be glad I'm out doing things in port instead of spending hours uploading.  Wait 'till you see the size of the bridge I just jumped off of!