Kumasi

Obruni, relax

So I wake up Saturday of the Easter weekend with the goal being to get to Kumasi by nightfall. The problem is Easter is a huge event in Ghana and the STC (government) buses will be full. Compunding the problem, the bus originates in Takoridi and may be full before it arrives in Cape Coast. On top of that, I am unable to book a room without knowing if I can get on the bus, and the rooms may be filling up for Easter. I was starting to get a little anxious about the uncertainty ahead. I show up at the depot early in the morning to get a ticket for the noon bus to Kumasi. Seems I cannot buy a ticket yet because there may be no tickets because the bus may be full upon arrival. “Come back at noon , Obruni” I come back at noon. I see the same lady and ask her about the Kumasi bus. “Obruni, relax. Sit down and I will sell you a ticket, when its time”. Ten minutes pass. “Obruni, come here and get your ticket.”. I thank her and go down to a little outdoor cafe to wait in the blistering heat the two and a half hours for the 2:30pm departure of the 12:00pm bus. As I head to the cafe I notice a guy selling beef kabobs afro style, dusted with a dried pepper powder. Delicious! And no side affects. So if you're ever at the Cape Coast STC depot, try the kabob guy. I narrowly make it on the bus, with two empty seats. I am ordered to the back of the bus, and I briefly consider making a Rosa Parks like act of defiance, but decide
instead that I would prefer to spend the night in Kumasi, as opposed to a Ghanian jail. The ride up was interesting to say the least. Huge parts of the road were much, much worse than I had been led to believe, and for great swaths of the journey the bus careened from side to side including the shoulder of both sides of the road to avoid crater like axle busting potholes. The surfing effect was compounded by the fact that I was sitting at the back of the bus. I can see why they have handles attached to the back of the seat in front of me.

Kumasi

Kumasi is the second largest city in Ghana, known as “The Garden City”, and I can see why. Lush greenery abounds and the hotel I am staying at, The Kumasi Catering Guesthouse makes one feel as if I am staying in a lush tropical paradise, yet I can walk to downtown in a few minutes.Like Cape Coast, downtown Kumasi is very manageable in size for walking around. Given that I arrived on Saturday night, I did not get out and about until Easter Sunday. While the streets were far from empty, it was kind of nice that the place had a more subdued than usual atmosphere, so it felt about as quiet as say Taste of the Danforth.

Obama!Obruni!White Guy!

The Ketejia Market in Kumasi is truly something to behold. It is one stinky, yet delicious cauldron of wonderful chaos. It is the largest market in West Africa, and is a regional trading centre for neighbouring countries. Remarkably, it is divided into sections with different areas for different items. The shoe area just outside the market takes up about three city blocks of nothing but shoes. I venture in guideless, and I am fortunate that it is Easter Sunday, as the market is calmer due to the holiday. Instead of being constantly jostled by the crowd , I am able to stroll at a more leisurely pace. Wisely, I have worn my Obama shirt, which leads to shouts of “Obama!” as I stroll about the market. I also get a lot of “Obruni” and the odd “White Guy”. All of this is meant in the friendliest way possible, and I feel very welcomed. No one is bothering me. One guy who had meat for sale asks if I am from America. “No, Canada”, I reply. He yells back “Canada, America, it is same”. I yell back “No, Canada is better!” which sends a bunch of people into uproarious laughter. The market itself is stunning in its sheer magnitude. The size is easily many, many, many, square blocks in the city of Toronto. Imagine Yonge to Spadina, and Bloor to King. It is that big.

Die, Bankerman

Crap. Crud. Are you kidding me? So I thought that maybe I should get some cash here in Kumasi before heading to the more sparse northern region. It is Easter Monday. and the banks are closed.. No problem. We live in a global society, and given that I have already successfully used my bank card at Barclay's bank in both Accra and Cape Coast I am confident that things will continue trouble free. Its Africa, after all, what could possibly go wrong? So my rather relaxed mission on this sunny morning is to find a Barclays and get some cash, mosey over to the STC depot to get some info about the bus sked to Tamale, and to generally wander the streets and soak up the joyful madness. The first bank machine I see is a Standard Bank. I try my card there, but the machine spits it back out. No worries, this has happened before. My card does not work at all banks. Turning around, I see good old Barclay's right across the street and I react with the anticipated warmth of a moneyhug from my good friend. I put in the card and wait for instructions. And wait. And wait. It slowly dawns that not only are instructions not forthcoming, neither is my bank card. I begin cursing Barclay, and the good folks at TD Canada Trust who were well informed of my travel plans. I begin hitting the keys angrily, which draws a response from the bank machine guard over at the Standard Bank across the street. I yell back that the machine ate my card! Tomorrow, he yells back. Thank you, I yell back.

In addition another thing happened today that I have been in denial about from the get go. The rainy season is here, and for the first time in many months it poured and poured and poured and may continue to pour throughout the remainder of the journey. I am ill prepared for this, and am seriously reconsidering my options as far as my itinerary goes. But first, I'd really like to get my bank card back.