Jan's blog

Travel Observations from Jan
Good morning. We’ve spent our first night in Bolgatanga, and right now we are sitting in the restaurant gazebo of the Sand Garden Hotel. A refreshing breeze is rustling the leaves, and we’re drinking the best cup of tea.
Bolga accommodations are bursting at the seams, and Josbert worked hard to find us one shared room. The air conditioner was not working, so it was probably a room not normally used. We were fine. After our long journey yesterday, we could have slept on a plank. In fact, we are in room 007. But I have yet to be approached by a man named James.
The business of the hotel situation is due to a very large funeral being held for a Bolga magnate. I can hear the drums in the distance as I type. The wake was held last night, and the burial service is being held today. Ghanaians celebrate the deceased’s life with music and dance. The dead man had many children, so their friends have descended upon the town to take part.
A hand of applause. I’ve noticed a characteristic that is common in Ghanaians. They are a courteous people. In Accra, traffic circles are frequent, and many lanes of traffic have to funnel in and out. Rather than a free-for-all, drivers here let each other in as a matter of course. Pedestrians behave the same way. One needs to indicate one’s intention to cross a line of slow moving traffic by getting close to the car ahead, and then the car next in line stops. Yesterday, when the bus driver struggled to change the flat tire, many of the male passengers came to his assistance. Passing buses and transport trucks pulled over to offer help. When the inside tire was wrestled off and the spare in place, a passenger lead us to cheer their success. “Bravo, bravo. A hand of applause.” I echo that sentiment for the courtesy we have seen and that has been extended to us.
With an eye to literacy issues, I have become more aware of what rural people need to read. I was interested to notice the bill boards along the highway leaving Accra seem geared to a lower reading level. They use few word and simple words. The image tells the story. These billboards are placed along major roads where migrants from rural areas are clustered to live and work. Clever advertisers.
My mantra when travelling in tropical climates always is “sweat dries.” In in Kakua National Park, after climbing what seemed like an endless number of stairs cut into a hillside, I broke through the sweat barrier. I became one with the rain forest. Walking up Summit Hill road in Kelowna for practice didn’t adequately prepare me for climbing uneven steps in the stifling heat closely surrounded by large-leaved plants so lush you could practically hear transpiration taking place. Then it started to rain. The humidity rang the bell at the top of the wet-o-meter. The dripping leaves were equally matched by my dripping body. But rather than feel uncomfortable, I had broken through the societal discomfort with sweat. I felt liberated -- a personal epiphany.
Petty traders. One of the visible jobs dominated by women is selling small items to drivers stopped at red lights along the major roadways. Women of all ages balance merchandise in large silver bowls on their heads. With magnificently erect posture, they stand along the roads until traffic slows. Then they dart out, agile and attentive, fanning out among the cars. They watch for signs of interest as they move among the vehicles. In a matter of a few minutes, they have conducted their sales and glide back to the verge, hopefully with a lighter load and a few more cedes in their pockets. These women, located on the outskirts of Accra, are likely rural migrants who have limited job prospects. Yesterday on the road north, bus passengers were supplied with snacks and garden produce each time the bus stopped at a toll booth.