Ben's African Tales 11

14th December 2005
Goodday all. Put on yoour jump suits and poise by the open plane door.
Because you are about to desend into the gusty openess of Ben's African Adventures once more.
So what juice have I for you all to suckle on, well how about a piece of this........ I went with Afra the German girl who is in her last week before going back to Deutchsland to the fantastically named town of Bobikuma. All the towns in Ghana bar Cape Coast have very African names, which I think is surprising seeing that until 1957 Ghana or the Gold Coast as it was then called was a British colony. But Bobikuma is almost the exception to the rule as you have Bobikuma and then a hint of Englishness as the two smaller villages on either side of Bobikuma are called Upper Bobikuma and Lower Bobikuma. How quintessentially British I thought. We went there to visit two other volunteers who work in the local clinic. When we got there on the worlds slowest moving tro tro we discovered that an injection that one of the volunteers was in the process of stabbing into a babies arm exploded in her face and covered her with some gunk. It was harmless but her facial expression was fantastic and worth a thousand words. As we walked through Bobikuma it became apparant that we were being stalked by some small children. One in particular who would puff his chest out and perform muscle men poses as I waled by, I do tend to have the strangest effect on young children. Little Natasha who is our host sister decided to jump on me and hang from my neck the other night. I wouldnt have minded but she did a huge poo all down my arm. Lovely child!!!! I must thank you all for the lovely emails that you have been sending me of late. They are all very welcome and I appreciate the time that you have spent in reading my monotonous long entries. This week I was also given nearon a 100 exam papers to mark. I read through the new exam that Madm fatty fat fat Della had written and it is appalling. It is a comprehension test and the questions are all awful. The multiple choice answers are all muddles and to think this woman who wrote it is the head of English. She should be relocated to toilet bitch! When I do managed to get to the computer and use the internet I am always sitting next to a big sweaty Ghanian. What is their fasination with porn? They all look at it and write very lurid emails to people in Europe that they are trying to get visa's off. When I went to Swedru Secondary school the other day a man came into the staff room and was selling dvd's and cd's. When all the female staff had left top go and teach out of his bag came bundles of porn. Suddenly hundreds of males teachers filled the room and the man made a killing. Yesterday I went with Seth our SYTO representative in Swdru. He is a big beaming man with a borad smile that matche his shouldres. He looks like the sort of person you would want on your side in a fight. We went to the small village of Achianse to check out the building work and progress of Nynke the Dutch girls project. She raised much spondoolix when she was at home and has decided to buiild a school. Hope fully it will be finished by the time she leaves Ghana. The work has come on leaps and bounds and the roof strutts ere going in. It will be a grand class room when it is finished. I was very impressed to watch the workmen climb the ladders up to the roof with bricks balanced on their heads and a bag of cement on top of the bricks. But health and safety isnt a thing that they have here in Ghana. I love it. Watching people risk life and limb to built a school building. One even had a cowboy hat on which I though was very appropiate. I have been made a supervisior to the building work and basically have to be seen to inspect the work and look at the financial costa involved while Nynke is away. Basically I ponce around trying to look important and wearing a banada. The whole episode with the Canadian embassy and the doctors in Accra is finally drawing to a close. The results of Cara's post mortem are in but we are not allowed to find them out. It is all in the hands of the embassy now. I am glad she is safe and that she is being taken home tomorrow. I still feel numb about it and my heart goes out to her parents back in British Columbia. I have been contacted by her organisation and her mother would like to speak to me so I can tell her all of the things that we did together, as a group with other volunteers, the places we all went and all that we did for her after her tragic passing. Andy and I had to go to the police station again today and make a written statement each about the things that she ate when we went to the Volta Region. The police are so stupid out here. They didnt understand what spaghetti was and the officer in charge didnt know what the work spicy meant. They are sounthoughtful too, because as we sat there writing the photos of her taken by the police arrived and he put them on the desk in front of me. Its horrible to see it all again. I glowered at him until he put them in a draw and out of sight. Before the final results came through about Cara the doctor told us that he was 90% sure of the cause of death. It was an infection in ther bowel that had been there for a long time, laying their dormant and could have struck at anytime. When she was at home, or in the future, it could have even reared its ugly head ages ago, but just chose to choose this moment. It was a sort of toxic shock that took away our dear friend. I am not going to write about it anymore, my diary is full of my thoughst on the matter and I dont want to burden you all with the details. I have typed all that is straughtforward and an explanation as to how. But I am going to move on. Her memorial service is tomorrow and I am going to say a few words. It will be held at the school she taught at (Swedru seconadry school) and will be attended by all 1000 plus pupils and staff. I hope I can muster the words to bring justice to such a fantastic person. 19th December 2005 An awful lot has happened since I last wrote and saved this email. It is now Monday after noon and it feels like time has stood still while we have done so much here in Africa. Last Thursday Cara's memorial service took place and it was an emotional event to say the least. Well over 600 people were all crammed into the furnace that was the Swerdu secondary school assembly hall. Pupils, teachers, host families, other volunteers and local dignitaries made up the crown. I had previously been to the headmaster of the school to speak about the arrangements for the service. But all that we requested for Cara was ignored. I asked for the religion to be toned down as Cara wasnt religious, But what do they do. Yes, you have guessed it they bring in a bloody evangelicxal preacher who shouted a lot down the microphone so much that his voice caused electrical feeddback. I was saying a few words and went to sit with the other volunteers down by the side, but in their infinite wisdom they made me sit up on the stage next to the portable pulpit with the 'dignitaries'. I hated it, I could feel all the eyes of the children burning into me thinking ' whitemans on stage'. The headmaster, I will give him his due gave two poinanty speeches, but many words were lost in translation and his pronounciation and thick African accent took away eny feeling in the words. When my turn came I rose and dont remember walking to the microphone. I just somehow got there. I look down at all the other volunteers faces. Cara's friend and saw them crying and looking at me in despair. I said what I had written and tried to live every word. To create a picture of Cara's smile through my words. I put in all the strength I had and power of speech to try and do her justice. But to me the sound of my voice sounded hollow and distant. As though I was shouting to myself from a long way off. But I had to speak. I had to say these words. The Ghanians dont understand, they never will. They are so wraopped up in religion athat they are void of all feeling. I did this not onloy for Cara but her friends who sat looking up at me. I said the words that they needed to hear. I tried to play the p[erfect Oscar winning role and deliver my lines like Olivier. I hope I did such a wonderful person justice. Her body is back at home now, her possessions safe with her family. Her funeral in Canada has taken place and she has been laid to rest. It feels as though none of this is real. There is nothiong tangible to touch or feel. Only the pain in peoples voices remain. But none of us will ever forget her. The next Day I went with Afra the German girl to Accra as she was going home on Saturday and didnt want to face a long tro tro ride alone. So I gallantly went with her. Also I was secretly keeping an eye on her as Cara's passing hit her badly but it hit her after a delay. We arrived in Accra and it was heaving. I hate the place. It stinks of shite and rubbish. The piles of faeces and junk piles the streets. Its all a capital city shouldnt be full of juxtapositions. Large shanty towns next to a blush bank and internet cafe. It looks so out of place and I dont plan to go there much more. The trouble is that Friday is market day and yopu cannot get out of Accra for love nor money. The roads are chockerblock and it took Seth our SYTO rep in the central region 5 hours just to get to the office. Sod that I thought and I bunked up in a large bed at the New Haven hostel with 3 German girls. Bloody German language all the time. I felt so ignorant about not speaking another language apart from pigin Spanish and a few swearwords in French. But as it turns out it was all right as we stayed up drinking sachet gin (really cheap and hits the spot) til 6am. Then all bundled into the bed. At oner pouint I rolled over and came face to face with Karolin's face and Yanna's feet. I woke with a start and then realised where I was!! Befora we started our marathon drinking session I went with Afra to the arts centre. A place that I never ever want to step foot in again. It is a reasonably priced place for tourists to buy masks and carvings and such African clobber. But you are hassled so much that I wanted to shout 'go away and piss off'. Every step you take forward another stall holder or man holding cloths tries to haggle with you. If your eye catches them then it game over. The pounce on you and try to get you to buy everything. You have to really haggle with them and push them down, they just assume all white people are rich and can sprout money out of their arse on command along with cats. If I am ever trying to explain something to a Ghanian and they havnt the foggiest what I am on about, then I just say to them 'there a cat coming out of your arse', normally they smile and nod at me. No one as cottoned on to this game I play yet. Eventually we escaped the arts centre and it felt like a load had been taken off your back and that you could breath again. Never again I said, knowing full well I probably will. So I left Accra with Nynke Smit the Dutch girl who had returned from travelling round the country. She told me all the places to go and things to see. I took notes. We are going up north for New Years and then will travel the entire country in January. Nynke flys home tomorrow and we have spent the last two days with her. As today was the grand opening of her school bulding that she along with the Amsterdam lawn tennis club raised money to build. She was over budget and it wouldnt get finished. The money had run out and the Ghanians have fleeced her for some of it. Not all are crooks but it sure feels like it. I donated a million cedi's. Yes a whole milliuons. Andy donated another million and we all clubbed together and now the money is there for the classroom to be compleated even though the unveiling ceremony was today and they dressed her up like a queen mother and draped her in gold and paraded her around town, with kids marching to drum beats and all the locals chiefs in attendance. A milluion cedis is about 66 pounds sterling. In truth I need the money and shouldnt really give iot away. But in reality how Can I stand there and see a school building that has had so much blood , sweat and tears just not be finished and rot. This building will help hundreds of children in the future and is a legacy for Nynke to leave behind. So who am I to begrudge that. I felt a pang of shame that I didnt raise about 2 grand to spent on a buliding. But you cannot do everything can you. I even luged all the cement from Swdru to Achianse and got covered in filth doing so, riding in the back of a van with a muslin bloker who needed to pray and made us pull over. It is my donation to help someone out who has cried over this project that is much more than just a project to her. It is her baby. It has now grown into an adult and wuill be finished next week. I still have to pop over on a weekly basis to oversee the masons work etc. I feel very important even though I know that I am not. The send off that the village gave her was fantastic. They paraded her, gave her presents. Made her danec (and me) and had tributes and speeches on a microphone that was far too loud and I had to move some kids away from the speakers in case they were deafenned. Thats all I can write now as I have written too much and will save the rest for another time. Lastly even though it doent feel festiv in all this heat I would like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a fantastic New Year. Take care all Ben x x x x

Ben's African Tales 10

December 11th
All these blogs are the group emails that I write to everyone that I know. Then when I can I put them on to this blog.Its that man again, reporting from Africa and a long long way from home. Stop playing with next doors cat and read on dear fellows and fellowettes. But first of all I have set up a web blog that contains all my memories of my African Adventure. If you fancy a sneaky look go to http://benslavatory.blogspot.com/ After the upsetting and painful time we have had of late, I feel that I must change my tone and write of all the things that makes me love Africa so much. All the bizarre tales, journeys, adventures and weird people that I have met. Cara would want us to all carry on and have fun and therefore I will do so. So hers goes, this is Ben letting his fingers go mad and writing all that he can. Rock on Africa!!!!! So then lets begin with the fun and unbridled filth that awaits your journey into the murky gloom of my travels. First of all I must tel you that my English exam has been scrapped. Yep the entire thing. Fatty, fat, fat Madam Della the head of English didnt understand it and it was apparantly too hard for the kids to do. So she stole it and is secretly trying to work out the questions using a dictionary herself. That annoyed me! So the exam has been written by a woman who is near illiterate and sleeps all day in the staff room, my goodness she is fat! So the kids will have an exam which a slighty glaxe cat could do with ease. How are they going to develop at this rate if all that we have taught them in the lessons building up to the exam and suddenyl taken out of the exam paper themselves.It is bloody ridiculous! It is now back to the mundane chores of teaching English, marking homework and trying to teach surrealism to agriculture students. Bloody hell was that hard!! But in the end I managed to get them to think away from religion (they are brainwashed with the stuff) and get them to think in terms of the bizarre. But it was hard work doing so. They dont seem to have a mind of their own my class. They all have the collective same answer to everything! While I was teaching surrealism two chickens burst into my classroom and a Fulani herdsman appeared out of the palm trees and settled his cows on the football pitch, so that was a great way of explaining the subject to the kids. Although I made up the lesson and it is not in the carriculum at all. The world cup draw was made and England avoided a clash with Ghana. All the Ghanians were secretly hoping for it but I know that they dreaded the thought of meeting the mighty 1966 winners! Our plans had to be altered and so Andy and I didnt go to Kumasi as we planned last weekend. We are planning to go there and meet up with our orientation group soon. Before xmas at least. Oh talking of christmas, itis so strange being out here and seeing large inflatable father chirstmases and tinsel in shops. This is Africa, you just dont expect all that xmas rubbish everywhere. I suppose everywhere you go in the world you cannot escape the commercialism. Even here in West Africa, In tiny little dusty Kwanyaku where the mud huts and ciorrugated iron shacks are homes to many there are plastic xmas trees within. Its so strange to see it. We have decided that we must eat in every place possible in Swedru. We have to sample all the local delicasies. Although I like fufu a lot I cannot abide the other two Ghanaian dishes of kenkey and banku. Banku is basically goo and is slimey and tastes of rotten fish. Kenkey is a weaired dough that also tastes of fish and is dipped in another kind of goo. Fufu on the other hand is a nice goo dough and is dipped into a nice palm nut sauce and is also served with rat and or goat. Rat actually isnt that bad. I saw some local kids playing in the street with a dead rat and the cheeky buggers tried to sell it to me, 'You buy white man'! I didnt buy it of course but I sure was tempted, its tail; looked very appertising!!!! Henrik has left us to go travelling with Sander from Holland and he really looks like beaker from the muppets! So they have gone off to Kumasi and then are going further up north. We are planning that for New Years. Imagine spending New Years eve at the strike of 12 in a national park, arid savanna surrounding you. I cannot wait. I hope to see wild elephants. As I write this the heavens have opened and the African downpours have started, the thunder actually shakes the room that I am in. It is most odd. So any way the enter key has decided not to work on this computer so this is the end of the pareagraphs and it now turns into one massive large blog. So anyway when I type emails I sometimes have to save them and complete them another day as the weather and the computer or lack or computer technology as I should put it prevents me from being able to use a normal proper and working internet connection. So I am now writing on the 11th December after coming back from a relaxing day at Greenland hotel. We all decided to escape the cries of 'obroni buy me a phone' and 'whiteman give me money', so we paid just over a pund to escape to Greenland hotel and sit by the pool. This in itself is a massive culture shock after we have been living in huts and having bucket showers with no running water. Only last week did we only have rain water to drink and now we had a menu to order from, it really makes you think about the massive gulf in wealth in this country. While we were all there just chilling out and getting very red in the sun all these Swedes turned up. Loads of them. So I got talking to a man who looked like a jolly old bear and as it turns out there is or was a huge Swedish television programme being made about sponsoring a Ghanain child through school and is being endorsed by many famous Swedish celebrities. Well they were so famous that I didnt recognise any of them but I reckon one must have been Mr. Ikea. Well they told us all about this television programme that they made and it was from a village 40 minutes from us in the middle of nowhere. The funny thing was that just before Henrik left us to go up north he heard about it and gate crashed the party and managed to get his grinning mug on live Swedush TV which made his mother at home faint! Continueing the Swedish theme the next volunteer to be joing us in the Agona district is a Swedish woman. WheN I say woman I mean 57 year olf grandmother! She is going to be put in a house near Henrik and he is not all too keen about that as he said that he met her on his orientation weekend in Gothenburg and she was a batty old cow!! Today I also saw my first wild vulture. they are massive. It swooped out of the sky and landed near me, took one look at myself and decided that I was harmless before tucking into some road kill goat. It was so big I thought that I could ride it all the way home. Oh the enter key has decided to work now. SHere is a small story for you to enjoy. A volunteer in Kumasi (5 hours from us) went to the toilet outside his house and his toilet was a pit. Ghanian pit toilets are huge holes hug into the ground usually 7 feet or so deep. We they are covered in boards and have a hole so that yopu can deposit into them. Well this toilet was particularlly full and the floor boards old and worn. The poor sod squatted and well you have guessed it he ended up falling through and is no whone as the obroni who went for a poo swim. Luckily someone else went in just after and manged to get him out with a big stick. Even though it is a horrible story it still is bloody funny though. Recently the little kids in our host house have decided that Andy and I are not monsters and are actually funny guys who can play with them and make them giggle. But this is also a bad thing as the little sods wont leave us alone now. Every morning at 5 am without fail our door has the uncoordinated knocking of a small child on it and the cries of pen. Luckily I have learn the fante for no and stop it and also hit Andy. I am now also fluent in Fante insults which are most strange. The best ones that I have found are to call a person a fish or a goat. These are used regularly when some drunk accosts you in the street which happens very regularly. Tomorrow the 12th I am going wioth Afra the German girl who is in her last week and really doesnt want to go home to a town called Bobikuma. I have managed to get out of invigilating my schools exams and will go to this town to visit two volunteers that we know but havnt seen for ages as they work in a polio clinic. They have warned us that m,any a poor sole lives in there and that we need to be kind and compassionate. But the trouble is we also have to tell them about Cara's passing which I hope they havnt heard about from some randopm as news seems to spread fast around here. We want the news to come from a friendly person who actually knows them. There are two British lasses Anna and Naomi who live in a tiny village called Afransi and have the most basic house/shack I have ever seen. They are the only ones to have a truly authentic mud hut experience. But they have also suffered from the Tembu fly and worms and have both had malarisa a couple of times leaving them with a trip and short stay at Swedru hospital which is the most basic medical facility that I have ever seen. It looks like some kid has rocked up and made the buildings from scraps of wood found on the beach and a rusty mechano set. Well they met one of the very sociable Germans in the street (note the scarcasm) he ran up to them and said 'have yop heard the news, which blond girl was it'. I am glad to say that apart from being called a fair few nasty names he got one hell of a slap to the mush. Next time I see him I may stamp on his septic foot where he trod on a spiny fish in the sea. I have never met some one who deserves a good bitch slap more! The school starts its exams week tomorrow and them it is the Christmas holidays. No oine not even Francis the pot bellied headmaster knows when the kids return from holiday. I asked him and he just smiled did his belly wobbling laugh and told me 'January'. Thats the problem with Ghana no one tells you anything until the last moment or they dont tell you at all. Thomas our host brother who is also called Kwame is the worst for this. Ben come with me he will cry and them we will go to some randoms house and sit there while they talk in fante aboput something. Lat week he took me to some old mans house who we had seen drunk in the street and shouting many times at us. He seemsd scared to see Thomas arrive and seemed to shy away. He didnt even call me an obroni. I rteckon his drunken antics have got him in trouble with Nana. Nana is the closest thing they have to a mafia out here. What he says is the law. Although he is a lazy bugger and summoned Anna the 9 year old slave girl into his room to pass him a cup which was only a fes feet away! Thats when I saw Anna punch the cat, I think she was taking out her anger on the poor flea ridden moggy. The animals in our house are horrible little buggers, all under fed and flea infested. The cats try and invade my bag with which I chase them out shouting at them. There is an adorable dog who lives outside but is covered in big ticks so I avoid it like the plague. But that dog had two little puppies which we called trouble and strife and I am training them to beg. Its not working but I can make them wet themselves with excitement when they see me. Apart from the actual pets there is a selection of goats but I havn't a clue who owns them and many chickens. The bloody cockrel every morning at about 4 decides to have a warm up practice voice session right outside my windowq. I will be glad when we eat the poxy thing. Well I have eaten rat so chicken would make a nice change for once. There are little cows in Africa except for the nomadic Fulani herdsmen who wander the landscape and get driven off people land by angry farmers with guns (its true it was in the daily graphic). So milk does not exist here at all. What I would do for a real cup of tea with real milk in it. Also a lump of cheese I cannot remember the last time I tasted cheese. It was so long ago that I cannot remember what it even looks like. I have to stop writing about cheese, I am getting cravings thats bad when you are as remote as me. The other things I miss are coffee and music. In Ghana all it is is something called Hip life. A fusion of hip hop and high life which to my ears is blooy horrible and makes me pine for some good face melting rock. My cd's were in the bag which was stolen so music is a real rarity now. I used to borrow Cara's mp3 player but now I cant so I just seem to sing to myself all the time. The Ghanians always want me to sing. They just come up to me and demand that I spontaneously cobust into a song and dance routine. Luckily I have maneged to memries the lyrics to Pulps common people and that really confuses them. The other thing that really confuses all Ghanians is the fact that my photos contain lots of peple in them. They cannot work out that these people are friends and not family members. Also I have a photo of me bungy jumping and they no matter how much explaining will never understand the concept of that. Today for the umpteenth time I was called an American. That really pisses me off when people assume I am one of them. I dont mind if they ask me am I Australian. I have even been asked while I was in Accra was I an Italian! I even dont get offended when I was asked only last week if I was a German. But an American, come on do I look obese to you!! The German comment reallt confused me and through me off my step. I was asked this even though my bag has a big union jack embroided badge sewn onto it. They just all assume we are not who we are. Which in truth we are not the people we are at home when we travel. I had a strange feeling about that. When you travel to a places thousaands of miles away from home and meet all new people who know nothing about you. You could tell them anything really. You can also change and act differently. Which I think we all do in a way when we go somewhere far and new. Although I have found that I do tend to get on my high horse with some Ghanians, especially my kids in my General Arts Ebglish class. We had a discussion on sexism and they are all fools. They believe that a woman will not and never should be allowed to be president of Ghana. This is because the bible says that men are the greater of the two. So they have this written into their bloody national constitution. The fools, they have no concept of equality and moving woith the times. In many aspects it wqill take them an awful lot more than what they are doing to become more that just a developing country. Religion seems to be the bain of my life while I travel in Africa. It dictates everyhting. The radio (national radio) is hijacked by god on sundays and there is nothing on any station except the wonderful news brings bbc world service but gospel and preaching. Some of the preachers out here are so violent, they scream at each other and everytime you board a bus or a tro tro they pray before you can set off. Sometimes a preacher will preach at you all the way home. This happened to me from Sccra to Swdru. For two whole hours he shouted and it seemed like it was aimed at my general direction. It is also all in Fante or Twi, which is almost a gobbdegook language. Some of them clkutch the bible aloft and parise him with lots of theatrical hallejahs and stuiff like it. It is all very silly to me really. Sometimes they even try and sell magical medicines and show you the most gruesome pictures of people with fantastic African illnesses, such as eliphantitis and tembu fly infestation. I was even on a tro tro co ing back from the Volta REgion with my legs crushed up against the seat in front and suddenyl on jumped a man painted white with AIDS IS BAD written on his chest with red inlk. Scary chap to say the least. He tried to get money off me but I was quite foreful in scaring the bugger off. I was playing the gallnat gentleman and protecting Afra and Anna at the time!! What is strange is that I am bigger than many Ghanians. At home I feel like a midget but out here I puff my chest out and scare the life out of many of them. Especially when I shouted at the random who tried to accost me and take my wristband off me while I was having a slash down an alley in the dirty back slums of Swedru. I keep on mentioning tro-tros, but I don’t think my descriptions so far do them justice. I need to get some sort of definition down so here goes. Quoting from the Bradt guide: If anybody is aware of a more precise definition of a tro-tro than ‘pretty much any passenger vehicle that isn’t a bus or a taxi’, then they are welcome to let me know. So then all I realise I have written far far too much for anyone of you to read this. If you have got this far I take my hat off to you and we will have a beer together when I return in February.
If you havnt I dont bloody blame you.
Take care all, and remember be happy.
Peace
Ben x x x

Ben's African Tales 10

December 11th

All these blogs are the group emails that I write to everyone that I know. Then when I can I put them on to this blog.

Its that man again, reporting from Africa and a long long way from home.

Stop playing with next doors cat and read on dear fellows and fellowettes.

But first of all I have set up a web blog that contains all my memories of my African Adventure. If you fancy a sneaky look go to http://benslavatory.blogspot.com/

After the upsetting and painful time we have had of late, I feel that I must change my tone and write of all the things that makes me love Africa so much. All the bizarre tales, journeys, adventures and weird people that I have met. Cara would want us to all carry on and have fun and therefore I will do so. So hers goes, this is Ben letting his fingers go mad and writing all that he can. Rock on Africa!!!!!

So then lets begin with the fun and unbridled filth that awaits your journey into the murky gloom of my travels. First of all I must tel you that my English exam has been scrapped. Yep the entire thing. Fatty, fat, fat Madam Della the head of English didnt understand it and it was apparantly too hard for the kids to do. So she stole it and is secretly trying to work out the questions using a dictionary herself. That annoyed me! So the exam has been written by a woman who is near illiterate and sleeps all day in the staff room, my goodness she is fat! So the kids will have an exam which a slighty glaxe cat could do with ease. How are they going to develop at this rate if all that we have taught them in the lessons building up to the exam and suddenyl taken out of the exam paper themselves.It is bloody ridiculous!

It is now back to the mundane chores of teaching English, marking homework and trying to teach surrealism to agriculture students. Bloody hell was that hard!! But in the end I managed to get them to think away from religion (they are brainwashed with the stuff) and get them to think in terms of the bizarre. But it was hard work doing so. They dont seem to have a mind of their own my class. They all have the collective same answer to everything! While I was teaching surrealism two chickens burst into my classroom and a Fulani herdsman appeared out of the palm trees and settled his cows on the football pitch, so that was a great way of explaining the subject to the kids. Although I made up the lesson and it is not in the carriculum at all.

The world cup draw was made and England avoided a clash with Ghana. All the Ghanians were secretly hoping for it but I know that they dreaded the thought of meeting the mighty 1966 winners!

Our plans had to be altered and so Andy and I didnt go to Kumasi as we planned last weekend. We are planning to go there and meet up with our orientation group soon. Before xmas at least. Oh talking of christmas, itis so strange being out here and seeing large inflatable father chirstmases and tinsel in shops. This is Africa, you just dont expect all that xmas rubbish everywhere. I suppose everywhere you go in the world you cannot escape the commercialism. Even here in West Africa, In tiny little dusty Kwanyaku where the mud huts and ciorrugated iron shacks are homes to many there are plastic xmas trees within. Its so strange to see it.

We have decided that we must eat in every place possible in Swedru. We have to sample all the local delicasies. Although I like fufu a lot I cannot abide the other two Ghanaian dishes of kenkey and banku. Banku is basically goo and is slimey and tastes of rotten fish. Kenkey is a weaired dough that also tastes of fish and is dipped in another kind of goo. Fufu on the other hand is a nice goo dough and is dipped into a nice palm nut sauce and is also served with rat and or goat. Rat actually isnt that bad. I saw some local kids playing in the street with a dead rat and the cheeky buggers tried to sell it to me, 'You buy white man'! I didnt buy it of course but I sure was tempted, its tail; looked very appertising!!!!

Henrik has left us to go travelling with Sander from Holland and he really looks like beaker from the muppets! So they have gone off to Kumasi and then are going further up north. We are planning that for New Years. Imagine spending New Years eve at the strike of 12 in a national park, arid savanna surrounding you. I cannot wait. I hope to see wild elephants. As I write this the heavens have opened and the African downpours have started, the thunder actually shakes the room that I am in. It is most odd. So any way the enter key has decided not to work on this computer so this is the end of the pareagraphs and it now turns into one massive large blog. So anyway when I type emails I sometimes have to save them and complete them another day as the weather and the computer or lack or computer technology as I should put it prevents me from being able to use a normal proper and working internet connection. So I am now writing on the 11th December after coming back from a relaxing day at Greenland hotel. We all decided to escape the cries of 'obroni buy me a phone' and 'whiteman give me money', so we paid just over a pund to escape to Greenland hotel and sit by the pool. This in itself is a massive culture shock after we have been living in huts and having bucket showers with no running water. Only last week did we only have rain water to drink and now we had a menu to order from, it really makes you think about the massive gulf in wealth in this country. While we were all there just chilling out and getting very red in the sun all these Swedes turned up. Loads of them. So I got talking to a man who looked like a jolly old bear and as it turns out there is or was a huge Swedish television programme being made about sponsoring a Ghanain child through school and is being endorsed by many famous Swedish celebrities. Well they were so famous that I didnt recognise any of them but I reckon one must have been Mr. Ikea. Well they told us all about this television programme that they made and it was from a village 40 minutes from us in the middle of nowhere. The funny thing was that just before Henrik left us to go up north he heard about it and gate crashed the party and managed to get his grinning mug on live Swedush TV which made his mother at home faint! Continueing the Swedish theme the next volunteer to be joing us in the Agona district is a Swedish woman. WheN I say woman I mean 57 year olf grandmother! She is going to be put in a house near Henrik and he is not all too keen about that as he said that he met her on his orientation weekend in Gothenburg and she was a batty old cow!! Today I also saw my first wild vulture. they are massive. It swooped out of the sky and landed near me, took one look at myself and decided that I was harmless before tucking into some road kill goat. It was so big I thought that I could ride it all the way home.

Oh the enter key has decided to work now. SHere is a small story for you to enjoy. A volunteer in Kumasi (5 hours from us) went to the toilet outside his house and his toilet was a pit. Ghanian pit toilets are huge holes hug into the ground usually 7 feet or so deep. We they are covered in boards and have a hole so that yopu can deposit into them. Well this toilet was particularlly full and the floor boards old and worn. The poor sod squatted and well you have guessed it he ended up falling through and is no whone as the obroni who went for a poo swim. Luckily someone else went in just after and manged to get him out with a big stick. Even though it is a horrible story it still is bloody funny though.

Recently the little kids in our host house have decided that Andy and I are not monsters and are actually funny guys who can play with them and make them giggle. But this is also a bad thing as the little sods wont leave us alone now. Every morning at 5 am without fail our door has the uncoordinated knocking of a small child on it and the cries of pen. Luckily I have learn the fante for no and stop it and also hit Andy. I am now also fluent in Fante insults which are most strange. The best ones that I have found are to call a person a fish or a goat. These are used regularly when some drunk accosts you in the street which happens very regularly.

Tomorrow the 12th I am going wioth Afra the German girl who is in her last week and really doesnt want to go home to a town called Bobikuma. I have managed to get out of invigilating my schools exams and will go to this town to visit two volunteers that we know but havnt seen for ages as they work in a polio clinic. They have warned us that m,any a poor sole lives in there and that we need to be kind and compassionate. But the trouble is we also have to tell them about Cara's passing which I hope they havnt heard about from some randopm as news seems to spread fast around here. We want the news to come from a friendly person who actually knows them.

There are two British lasses Anna and Naomi who live in a tiny village called Afransi and have the most basic house/shack I have ever seen. They are the only ones to have a truly authentic mud hut experience. But they have also suffered from the Tembu fly and worms and have both had malarisa a couple of times leaving them with a trip and short stay at Swedru hospital which is the most basic medical facility that I have ever seen. It looks like some kid has rocked up and made the buildings from scraps of wood found on the beach and a rusty mechano set. Well they met one of the very sociable Germans in the street (note the scarcasm) he ran up to them and said 'have yop heard the news, which blond girl was it'. I am glad to say that apart from being called a fair few nasty names he got one hell of a slap to the mush. Next time I see him I may stamp on his septic foot where he trod on a spiny fish in the sea. I have never met some one who deserves a good bitch slap more!

The school starts its exams week tomorrow and them it is the Christmas holidays. No oine not even Francis the pot bellied headmaster knows when the kids return from holiday. I asked him and he just smiled did his belly wobbling laugh and told me 'January'. Thats the problem with Ghana no one tells you anything until the last moment or they dont tell you at all. Thomas our host brother who is also called Kwame is the worst for this. Ben come with me he will cry and them we will go to some randoms house and sit there while they talk in fante aboput something. Lat week he took me to some old mans house who we had seen drunk in the street and shouting many times at us. He seemsd scared to see Thomas arrive and seemed to shy away. He didnt even call me an obroni. I rteckon his drunken antics have got him in trouble with Nana. Nana is the closest thing they have to a mafia out here. What he says is the law. Although he is a lazy bugger and summoned Anna the 9 year old slave girl into his room to pass him a cup which was only a fes feet away! Thats when I saw Anna punch the cat, I think she was taking out her anger on the poor flea ridden moggy.

The animals in our house are horrible little buggers, all under fed and flea infested. The cats try and invade my bag with which I chase them out shouting at them. There is an adorable dog who lives outside but is covered in big ticks so I avoid it like the plague. But that dog had two little puppies which we called trouble and strife and I am training them to beg. Its not working but I can make them wet themselves with excitement when they see me. Apart from the actual pets there is a selection of goats but I havn't a clue who owns them and many chickens. The bloody cockrel every morning at about 4 decides to have a warm up practice voice session right outside my windowq. I will be glad when we eat the poxy thing. Well I have eaten rat so chicken would make a nice change for once.

There are little cows in Africa except for the nomadic Fulani herdsmen who wander the landscape and get driven off people land by angry farmers with guns (its true it was in the daily graphic). So milk does not exist here at all. What I would do for a real cup of tea with real milk in it. Also a lump of cheese I cannot remember the last time I tasted cheese. It was so long ago that I cannot remember what it even looks like.

I have to stop writing about cheese, I am getting cravings thats bad when you are as remote as me. The other things I miss are coffee and music. In Ghana all it is is something called Hip life. A fusion of hip hop and high life which to my ears is blooy horrible and makes me pine for some good face melting rock. My cd's were in the bag which was stolen so music is a real rarity now. I used to borrow Cara's mp3 player but now I cant so I just seem to sing to myself all the time.

The Ghanians always want me to sing. They just come up to me and demand that I spontaneously cobust into a song and dance routine. Luckily I have maneged to memries the lyrics to Pulps common people and that really confuses them. The other thing that really confuses all Ghanians is the fact that my photos contain lots of peple in them. They cannot work out that these people are friends and not family members. Also I have a photo of me bungy jumping and they no matter how much explaining will never understand the concept of that.

Today for the umpteenth time I was called an American. That really pisses me off when people assume I am one of them. I dont mind if they ask me am I Australian. I have even been asked while I was in Accra was I an Italian! I even dont get offended when I was asked only last week if I was a German. But an American, come on do I look obese to you!! The German comment reallt confused me and through me off my step. I was asked this even though my bag has a big union jack embroided badge sewn onto it. They just all assume we are not who we are. Which in truth we are not the people we are at home when we travel. I had a strange feeling about that. When you travel to a places thousaands of miles away from home and meet all new people who know nothing about you. You could tell them anything really. You can also change and act differently. Which I think we all do in a way when we go somewhere far and new. Although I have found that I do tend to get on my high horse with some Ghanians, especially my kids in my General Arts Ebglish class. We had a discussion on sexism and they are all fools. They believe that a woman will not and never should be allowed to be president of Ghana. This is because the bible says that men are the greater of the two. So they have this written into their bloody national constitution. The fools, they have no concept of equality and moving woith the times. In many aspects it wqill take them an awful lot more than what they are doing to become more that just a developing country.

Religion seems to be the bain of my life while I travel in Africa. It dictates everyhting. The radio (national radio) is hijacked by god on sundays and there is nothing on any station except the wonderful news brings bbc world service but gospel and preaching. Some of the preachers out here are so violent, they scream at each other and everytime you board a bus or a tro tro they pray before you can set off. Sometimes a preacher will preach at you all the way home. This happened to me from Sccra to Swdru. For two whole hours he shouted and it seemed like it was aimed at my general direction. It is also all in Fante or Twi, which is almost a gobbdegook language. Some of them clkutch the bible aloft and parise him with lots of theatrical hallejahs and stuiff like it. It is all very silly to me really. Sometimes they even try and sell magical medicines and show you the most gruesome pictures of people with fantastic African illnesses, such as eliphantitis and tembu fly infestation. I was even on a tro tro co ing back from the Volta REgion with my legs crushed up against the seat in front and suddenyl on jumped a man painted white with AIDS IS BAD written on his chest with red inlk. Scary chap to say the least. He tried to get money off me but I was quite foreful in scaring the bugger off. I was playing the gallnat gentleman and protecting Afra and Anna at the time!! What is strange is that I am bigger than many Ghanians. At home I feel like a midget but out here I puff my chest out and scare the life out of many of them. Especially when I shouted at the random who tried to accost me and take my wristband off me while I was having a slash down an alley in the dirty back slums of Swedru.

I keep on mentioning tro-tros, but I don’t think my descriptions so far do them justice. I need to get some sort of definition down so here goes. Quoting from the Bradt guide:

If anybody is aware of a more precise definition of a tro-tro than ‘pretty much any passenger vehicle that isn’t a bus or a taxi’, then they are welcome to let me know.

So then all I realise I have written far far too much for anyone of you to read this. If you have got this far I take my hat off to you and we will have a beer together when I return in February. If you havnt I dont bloody blame you.

Take care all, and remember be happy.

Peace

Ben

x x x

African Tales 9

I had to change the title of my email as Ben's African Adventure has now lost the appropiateness of its own title.
I write this email with a numbness inside me. There is no way of writing this that will not bring pain and sorrow to my heart. I bring tragic news that was unexpected and shocking to all of us here Volunteering in Ghana.
Our travelling companion, buddy, pal, and most of all trusted friend Canadian Cara Knowles died suddenly in her sleep on Thursday morning. We still do not know the cause of death but the shock has all knocked us for six. Only a few hours before had we sat in the local bar with her chatting and discussing our plans for New Years. Now it is hard to think that we will never see her again.
It pains to write this email but I feel it is my duty to write and portay a true image of her lif with us in Ghana and hersudden passing.

The news came early on Wednesday morning and we immediately went with two other volunteers to her house. The police where there and so many people stood there staring at her body. I was sickened by the whole situation. Neighbours, local teachers all crammed into her room taking bloody photos. Taking photos of her, why the sickness of it. Yes she lay there on the baed with a look of pain and sadness on her lifeless face, but to show no respect to the friendliest person I have ever met maddened me.
This is where Ghana has tru;ly let me down and I feel ashamed to have witnessed what I did. Her body was wrapped in a pink bedsheet and put on the back seat of the school bus as we transported her to hospital. When we got their the doctor asked us a few questions and then didnt cover her up properly. So you could see her hair and a staring eye.

I got angry as they took her out of the bus. They pushed a stretcher through the wiindow and lifted her on to it. For f**ks sake cup her head I hollared. I took charge of the veteran stretcher and through gritten teeth we transported her into the ambulance. There was no compassion about the whole scenario. Only us volunteers seemed to be moved.

Andy had to travel with the body to the morgue in Accra that day. A job I praise and respect him for doing and one that had to be done. I had to collect and bag up all her belongings for transporation to the Canadian embassy and Yesterday I spent the day in Accra with Afra the German girl at our organisations head office m,aking many phone calls to the embassy, the doctors and other such important places. We had to make an itemised list of all her wordly possessions and to see her stuff like that pained me greatly. Her digital camera full of pictures, her mp3 player with the songs on it that she introduced me to. Her clothes that we went to the seamstress in Swedru to get made and the fabrics we bougfht in Accra on a day trip all brought back memories. It still hasnt sunk in and I dont think it ever will. How can the girl who we did so much with and went to so many places. The girl who only last weekn we climbed to the top of the waterfall and swam in the cool refreshing waters be gone. To think that the last I will eber see of her was a body in a bed, it was her but want her. The body was void of her expressions, her laughter, her smile. I suppose I am in shock really. She hasnt died she has just gone travelling on one last long journey that no one can follow.
I feel bad and almost like I am betraying her menory by writing this email to you all. But I need you all to know. I need to express my feelings in some way. I need you to all know that life is precious and if a young 25 year olf friend who was so active and bubbly can be taken away we must all embrace what we have.
I feel melancholy and some how in need of a magic tonic that can turn the clock back. How did she die. I wish I knew. I wish I could somehow travel back and stop it all, but alas It can never be done. Yes I accept that death itself is just another part of life and a path that we all must tred one day. But when the reality and finality of a situation such as this hits you, you become lost.
We all all uniting together, all the volunteers of all nationalities. We have ensured that her belongings are safe and protected and have passed on our details as requested to the embassy.
There is little more we can do, but everything looks different now. The mud huts and the rusty taxis that drive past have lost their shine some how. I suppose this is just how one does feel when confronted with shock, but it is confusing. We all feel that we have to do more, but all has been done now. 2 days of panic, and travel have seen that she is safe and her possessions collected and listed. I wish the embassy could have listed them as it felt like prying onto privvy information but we have followed their instructions.

I apologise for this email if it has upset you and I truly feel bad writing it, but I need to express myself.
When you get the chance today please dop something for me. Kiss someone, tell a family member that you love them, stroke the dog, phone a reletive, hold someones hand, stare onto the horizon. But when you do please appreciate life and all that we have. I know that is slightly melodramatic but I now seem to see thinsg in a different light, or rather thinkthat I do. Alternatively I am just talking a load of b*ll*cks and I need to be ignored.

I must go now as we still have to inform the other volunteers who klnew her. A job that can only and should only be done face to face.

Take care all, I sorry to have to write with this news. Please forgive me if this email has upset or made you think ill of me.

Be happy
Peace

Ben
x x x x x

Ben's African Adventures 8

December 4th 2005
Greetings once again you lovely bunch of coconuts.
I write this email from Accra the capital city. We have all just arrived back here after spending 5 fantastic days in the Volta Region. This region is a lush mountaious area with many waterfalls and natural beauty galore.
We left very early on Wednesday morning and headed via very rickety old tro tros to Accra and then from Accra onto Ho. From Ho we went to a traditional African bead market and it was wonderful. I bought so many beads and I spent in total about 30 pence. The people of the Volta Region are the friednliest by far in Ghna. You are not shouted at because of your skin colour they just all say 'your welcome' and 'akwaaba' all the time. We were only hassled by one drunk there but I chased him away from the girls with a stick.
So let me tell you about my 5 days in the sun, climbing mountains, hand feeding wild Mona Monkeys, swimming in crystal pure waterfalls and drinking palm wine at 7am by the side of the road trying to flag down a truck to take me to Hoehoe.
So after ten hours of bone shaking travelling through the heart of Ghana we reached the lush volta region. We knew that we had arrived when we crossed the large volta river on the massive iron bridge that sticks out like a sore thumb in the remote wilds of the bush. Once over he bridge we went off to Atimpoku and then Somanya where the bead market was. It was really easy to find and I was surprised just how easy the whole trip worked out. Normally you spend houirs trying to flag down a bus only to end up travelling with goats in the back of a dung laiden lorry. But this trip went swimmingly well, it was great. So Andy and Canadian Cara and I set off from the bead market after spending about a pound on a huge pile of beads. From there we caught another arse numbing tro tro the two hours North from Ho to Hoehoe the volta regions seconds biggest city. Hoehoe is really a small town and once there we dodged the crazy people who seem to accumulate a lot on Africa town street corners and we went to Amagusta. Amagusta is in the middle of nowhere, no electricty, running water or anything. But it is the home of Wli Falls (pronounced vlee). We found a set of humble lodgings for the night and settled in and slowly got drunk on the cheap Don Garcia boxed wine that you can buy anywhere, even in the middle of nowhere here in Ghana.
The next day we emerged complete with mild headaches and set off to climb the hills to get to the Upper falls of Ghana's and West Africa's highest waterfall. Wli has an upper fall and a rather dirtier lowers falls. So up, up, up we went. It was a long climb and I was sweating like a beast. We scrambled over logs, up rock faces, down hole sin thje ground and there low and behold and most importantly deserted was the upper falls of Wli in all its glory. So I immediately stripped off to my boxers and embarrassed Cara by running screaming straight into the water and swimming around in the freezing cold, but totally refreshing waters. The hike down was much easier and I semi jogged all the way. Then once at the bottom it was the easy stroll to the lowerfalls, which was occupied by a bus load of catholic priests! So out came the pants again and this time I made them blush and swam around like a fish, or a rather demented one.
After our exploits at the waterfalls we travelling by foot for two hours to reach the small village of Tove. Mud huts and a bizarre corrugated iron and pink brickwork clinic where the only things there. But this is where two Norweigan girls (Isiline and Guru) where volunteering. Cara knew them from her orientation week and therefore we stayed with them for one night and ate cat with their singing host father! In the morning we were woken by an agitated host father and rushed to get dressed. A truck had passed the village! Yes a truck, they never see any vehicles in Tove. So the host father had flagged it down and it was waiting and slowly filling up with old women carrying baskets of vegetables and live chickens ready to take them to market in Hoehoe. So we crammed into the back of this truck and headed off along the bumpiest road with a bady screaming atme who was obviouslty terrified by me all the way. We trundled past villages of mud huts, women washing in the river and a priest up a tree! We reached Hoehoe very dusty and needing some breakfast. Luckily there was a roadside stall selling goat kebabs and chop shop food (rice and stew) so we ate their for about 15pence.
We suddenly had reached an area where you could get a phone signal so Andy's phone lit up like an xmas tree and low and behold it was a group of six girls from Swedru who had also come to the Volta Region at the same time so we decided to meet up the following day. We stood there in the tro tro station and then decided on our next move. onkeys beckoned! We caught a tro tro to the junction ofTafi Atome and walked the remaining 5 kilometers along a dusty hot road to the village. We now were in the Tafi Atome Monkey sanctuary. So we bookled into a room and paid for the evening and morning monkey walk. We settled in, had a bit to eat when an Australiangirl and a Dutch lass rocked up and were inthe room next to us. So there were five of us here at the monkey sanctuary and all eager to see the elusive apes. The evening walk was pathetic we walked about 100 yards and then out of nowhere a load of Mona Monkeys (they have silly bears) invaded a carpenters stall by the dirt track. They just ran in and basically monkeyd around. The man who was our guide wouldnt let us get too close so I was pissed off as I wanted to catch one and train him to be my personal butler. But things got better in the evening. We were sitting outside our crude rooms with no electricty or running water when the trees started to rustle. Luckily I had already procured some bananas of a naked woman on the side of the road earlier and whipped on out and coaxed a little cheeky monkey down from the tree. I have a great picture of me handing a banana to a little monkeys outstretched finger. It was great, but I could see some bigger eveil looking ones in the branches above peering down at me with evil intent. Then they invaded the roof of the dorm shack. Crash, bang, wollop they pounded on the room and made a move for my banana. Ut I managed to shoo them uup into the trees again and carried on feeding the cheeky little inquisitive ones.
Then in the morning we decided to try and get a lift into Hoehoe and from there visit Ghana's tallest mountain. Mount Afadjato. This was harder than expected and it took ages for us to flag down a bus. The locals took pity on me and gave me lots of palm wine to drink out of a hollow shell cup. Now it was early morning and palm wine is quite alcoholic, so by thwe time we did flag down a tank of a bus and get to Hoehoe I was starving. Chop shop again!
We managed to get the only truck going to Liati Wote, the small village at the foot of the mountain. Then Andy and I set about climbing it. I was exhausted going up, but managed it. It wasnt that high but the heat and l;ack of breeze was a killer. I was soaking wet by the time I summited. On the top I whipped out my union jack flag and took a photo. Then I raced two locals kids down the mountain path to the village and I won. But I was exhausted by doing so. The views were fantastic and I could see all the way to Togo. I wanted to do a day trip accross the border to the French speaking country but alas the border guards see your white skin and try and charge you a small fortune, so we decided against it. When we wandered back into town like two explorers returning from an expedition (Only Andy and myself did the climb) we found the entire group of people from Swedru in a local bar. There were six girls, two Norweigans, One German (the only nice German in Swedru), Another new Canadian girl and two dutch girls. So we all set about trying to get back to Hoehoe. We managed it eventually but were stopped in an old bus by some police and had our papers checked. The police barked at me to see my identity card, so I cooly handed it over only for them to try and mock me for being British. So I kept my mouth shut and smiled before we continued on our journey. As soon as he was out of earshot I let out a torrent of abouse to myself. I felt better after that.
So back in Hoehoe we all checked into the most rundown guesthouse in the world and I managed to explode a pipe when I turned on a tap. So that brings me up to date on what has been going on in Africa. I have had a great time away from school, but alas tomorrow I am back teaching the little bugers English and also have to do an 8km run with the athletics team. I think the head of sport is abusing me a bit, but at least I am fitter than ever now.
So I will leave you now because my time on the net is coming to an end and I have to travel back to Swdfru and get back to Kwanyaku before night falls. No tro tros will travel at night because of the police check points and the corruption of the local constabulary. So its better to get back to good old Nana's and avoid the possible police and heavy truncheon blows to the head scenes that I have witnessed on the side of the road. Oh one volunteer in a really rural village told me that she witnessed a rapist being dragged around by his penis before being stoned to deth and then burned. This was done by the villagers and not the ploice. So in some places this really is primitive africa. But here at the moment in Accra all we have to do is dodge the swerving taxis and avoid the carazy men and the street preachers.
So goodnight my little mona monkey loving chums. Til next time.
Be happy
Peace
Ben
x x x x

Ben's African Adventures 7

November 28th 2005
Hello again my eager email readers. Is it time for another of Ben's jackanory sessions I hear you try. Well settle down, dim the lights and turn the telly off as it is story time.

I am writing this particular entry on my travels from the capital city of Accra. I travelled the two hours today through the dust and heat to come to the only internet cafe that works. Also we needed to pop into the volunteer organisation hq to pick up somones parcel and change some dosh.
So here I am sitting in an air conditioned room. Something that I have not experienced for a long old time now. It feels rather odd. Its not a nice feeling coming back to the city after spending all the time in the country. The beggers are worse you can smell the polution, everything is far more expensive and the cars are more dangerously driven. But luckily I am going in an hour on the long bumpy road back to Swedru and then on to Kwanyako where I can see my little babies. My babies being the puppies who I am training to sing god save the queen and attack goats. The latter is working much better.

So without further waffling I will enlighten you all on what has been happening in my neck of the woods of late.
Well the main story is that our teachers verses students match went ahead despite the thunder and lightning storm that illuminated the palm street raging overhead. The pitch was waterlogged he goalmouth like a swamp but never the less we marched out and played a terrific game of football. The teachers wore the blue and white Kwastech kit and we made the kids wear the girls netball vests. The match started at a frantic pace with the kids trying to get the upper hand over the ageing and waist expanding unfit teachers side. I played on the left wing and was up and down like a bloody yo-yo. We went one nil down early on but managed to make things all level at one a piece with a long shot that the kids keeper fumbled and then wqas subsequently sunstituted for. Then a through ball was played to me and I was one on one with the goalkeeper. I sprinted with the ball as fast as my little legs would carry me then just as I was about to do a Henryesque dummy and then shoot I was hit from behind and went down like a sack of spuds. I smacked into the turf and rolled over to see a sheepish looking kids who had done a two footed challenge on me. There was no doubt about it as Kofi the deputy head who was refereeing pointed to the spot...Penalty. I wanted to take it, but when I went down I smacked my head so hard on the sodden ground that I was a bit dazed and could see two goals instead of one. So I signalled to little Edmund to take it and he duly responded by wrongfooting the subsitute keeper.
Now I thought all my kids loved me, they all get on with me in every lesson that I teach but when it came to a teachers verses staff football match I was abused and battered by them all. It doesnt help that many of them are much bigger than me (which is not hard anyway). At half time we led the game 2-1. The second half started as frantic as ever and then another through ball and I was through, just the keeper to beat and again....WHACK! Up in the air I went, this time not a defender but the keeper had ran out and as I went to turn and dropped my shoulder I lost sight of him and I think he lost sight of me and the result was two people lying on the sodden dusty pitch almost unconscious. The to make matters worse it was on the edge of the box so it was only a poxy free kick. Which Mr. Osei-Wilson drove high and wide anyway. Before long the kids rad us running around like headless chickens in defece and I went to play as a sweeper. They equalised and should have won the game with a long range effort that our match teacher keeper could do nothing about. But some miraculous off the ball incident had occurred and Kofi ruled it out. So it ended 2-2. Then we were mobbed, the entire school who were all watching stormed the pitch and carried us all at shoulder height. Dont drop me I thought to myself.
Tht night I was exhausted and was looking forward to dinner. Then I saw what they were cooking! Rat. A large african grass rat known locally as Grasscutter. I ate the thing anyway and it was rather tasy, But it turned my fufu green which I dont think was a good thing.
This weekend has been one spent in and around the Agona area. On Saturday we went with Seth (our local Syto rep(student youth and travel organisation)) and Nynke he Dutch girl and loaded a van up with cement and wood and poles and all sorts of stuff that you need to build a classroom in an arid climate. So slave labour we were for the day. Andy and I were covered in filth and sweating profusely after we had loaded the van up driven to Achianse, unloaded it and then did the whole thing again. So after all that hard work it was time for a beer. That evening we foud a bar that stays open later than 9pm and we set up camp there drinking gin and tonics for 30pence each. Wow I thouht I was in paradise, except for the bloody mosquitos. When we got back to Kwanyaku I had a cronic case of the beer munchies and low and behold in the street was Rebecca, Sister Beatrix'x mother grilling goat intestine kebabs. So I endulged and treated myself to two. They actually despite sounding unappetising tate lovely and I highly recommend them to you all.
Mrs. Nana has now turned up as she was living in Stockwell in London and with her she has bought so much crap that she sent by shipping mail. Tons of the stuff, its all cheap English tat that not even a blind person would buy. She also bopight wth her a very fat child called Elicia who is some member of the families daughter but as usual no one explains o us whos exactly as we are just the obronis. All the kids in the village were brought back a oy each by Mrs. Nana. But when I looked at the toys they were all from MacDonalds happy meals so that explains why the child is so obese. Obese and likes to prance around the house naked and screaming!!!!!!
Mrs. Nana is another huge woman, her arms look like elephnts legs and her clothes are so big I am sure she has just stollen a beer tent and wrapped herself up in it.
Our host family are just odd. There is no other way to describe them, They are strange and there is some serious incestious inbreeding going on somewhere. They all have different names and dont use them, whats going on!
This weekend was the last weekend of the Dutch lass building a school so on the sun day we went to the local 4 star hotel (an hour away) and paid just over one pound to use the pool all day. The result is that I am even redder now than I was before. But a load of us all sat round relaxing all day. W even smuggled in cartons of the cheap local wine and canned food so we didnt have to spend any money there. It felt odd being by a poo after so much dust and bucket showers in the middle of nowhere, where power cuts happen all to often and if you are hungry they will go out anf hunt down something for you. Or more likely give you more and mre plaintain!
I had to go to another funeral party but I managed to avoid going to the actual funeral iteslf. I went on my own as it was someone in the house who I played football with and he took me there sat me down and buggered off. I was on my own in a strange place surrounded by drunks and staring eyes at a funeral where they blear out the music at a 1000 decibels that it almost deafens you. So what could I do to liven the situation up I hear you cry! The answer is that I got all of them doing the okey koey and singing with me and I danced arround making a prat of myself and making all the locals join in and laugh til they were sick. I'm serious one man did! I also at that funeral saw a woman who was so fat that they had made a special cart for her so she could go outside. Food dripped off her chin and I felt quite disgusted by the sight of her.
Once I had escaped and ran for freedom over the border to saneland I finished writing my English exam and counted the money that I had changed up. I took out a ton and the pile of notes was a foot high. The currency out here is almost worthless, how do they survive?
So after a cool weekend and a relaxing time at the pool it is now back to teaching tomorrow before we go off on an uber excursion to the volta region to hike up a mountian and swim in pure fresh waters.

Oh I woke up yesterday and sods law I have a cold. In Africa, the heat out here is tremendous but to catch a cold is ridiculous. It may be a rare type of African disease that I have been sunjected to. I may have head shrinkers illness. Help, I am shrinking! Or maybe I just have the common cold which is more than likely. I probably caught it off that rat that I ate.
Its odd at the moment as they are playig christmas tunes already on the radio and tinsel is in the local bar. A plastic father christmas was in the locl church the other day and I saw a tro tro with a mini xmas tree on the dash board. It November for goodness sake!
When we went for a swim the Germans tunrened up and as soon as I saw them I saw then make a move, but I was lightning quick and jumped a fence to claim a sunlounger and make them huff at me. Ha ha I beat then at their own game!
So here I am now ready to go back to the middle of nowhere and back to my dusty teaching existance. I wonder if they make me drink apetishi or wait and power tonight. Local spirits that can knock your socks off. I rather like it, but poor Andy cannot abide the stuff.

So I must be off now. I need to catch a tro tro and sit for ages on a plank. Maybe I will catch a lift on the back of a lorry again, who knows.
So for now my lovlies I must bid you goodnight, because tomorrow is another day and more adventures.
Take care and sleep well.
Ben
x x x x

Ben's African Adventure 6

November 25th 2005
Welcome back one and all to another episode from the depths of Africa.
The last email I sent was rather bizarre to say the least and ergo I thought that I would write another and tell you all the good, wonderful, exotic and just surreal things that have been happening in the life of Ben.
Well today I found out that I have to write a 2 hour English exam for the entire first year at Kwanyaku school. Yep the entire thing. They do not seem to have an external exam board that will write these things so it is all down to muggins here. I had a spot test in my home economics English class today and that went surprisingly well. It was on Shakespeare and also a lot of Ebnglish words which I had taught them. After the lesson I was mobbed by them because I gave out postcards of London scenes foe their good effort. The general arts English class are just plain and simply bloody awful. They have no idea as to what I am teaching, while the others seem to have grapsed everything.
Away from school now and Yesterday some strange things happened. A lorry drove into Nana's front garden and got stuck in the lawn. So Captain Ben saved the day by rescuing the truck using planks of wood under the wheels. The driver thouight I was a genius! Then just as I was basking in my new found glory a Korean missionary turned up out of the blue and preached at Nana for 3 hours. I managed to escape by saying that I had to teach English even though I had finished for the day. So I hid in the assistant headmasters office until she had gone, he kept plying me with this slightly narcotic nut called kola. It tastes awful but he is addicted to the stuff. Then low and behold she turns up today at school and interupts all the mornings lessons with poxy preaching. She was eventually told to bugger off by Francis our pot bellied headmaster.
Last night I was sitting down writing and I heard a huge explosion, I immediately ran outside expecting to find a car on fire or something similar, But instead it was the waterworks nearby blowing up rocks which shot into the air and knocked out all the power lines! This happens at lots but most of the time I am out of ear shot so dont notice it.
Yesterday morning I was woken by such a noise. It was a group of students moving a half ton chicken hutch from the school 500 meters up the road to the agriculture teachers garden. So I joined it to chant of 'Obroni' and ended up almost disclocating my shoulder the thing was so heavy. We even demolished a palm tree getting the thing into his garden.But after wards I am seen in a new light by this kids because I helped out. The other teachers just stood around shouting instructions at them and weilding canes.
After we had managed to get the chicken coup into the garden I was stalked all day by the teachers son. Silent Richard. He is anadorbale little chap but never speaks or utters even a sound, except when some evil cow beat him with a stick for walking out of school. But he is not a mute and seems like like Andy and Myself and therefore follows us around and he thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen when I was ushering some goats out of my classroom wielding a branch and blowing a whistle at them. The goats and achickens get everywhere and just wander freely into your class bleet a bit and deposit something on the floor. We also get random small children run in shout Obroni at me and then run off.
I have been invited to dinner at the assistant headmasters house next week. He wants to prepare fufu for us and make me drink apetishi which is an earhy spirit with twigs in it. He also has taken me to his house before where his 13 year old daughter wanted to marry me! Many people in Ghana want to marry me, they see the whiteman as a way to a better life, but some are genuine and just want you as a friend and so therefore proposed. I even had a bizarre man propse to me. I have never sbeen so scared in all my life!
Henrik the Swede who lives in Agona Swedru invited Andy and myself to his host famiulies house for a meal. It was a really nice out and it made such a change because they spoke fluent English. Our host family havnt a clue about English and only speak fante. (there are 16 varieties of fante in our area) What is odd is that even though they are fluent in fante the regional coastal dialect they canot write it at all. It is most strange and their English writing is appalling. This is just the adults, the children are beyond belief. I did an English lesson on creative writing and all they wrote abput was God. The bible and religion dominates their lives in every aspect. They all believe that women are much lower than men because the bible says so. They have even written the national constitution to state that a female can never become president.
Yesterday for the first time in my life I was hit my a car. A taxi hit me with its wing mirror as I walked to our Wednesday Swedru gang meeting at the local bar. I was knocked sideways into a woman who was balancing plaintain on her head she almost fell into a ditch but I caught her and yet again saved the day! Our wednesday meetings are becoming something of a big affair now, yesterday there was twenty of us in the bar. Although I am including the Germans who keep themselves to themselves and only speat 'ze kraut' to each other. Unsociable sods! The dutch on the other hand hate the Germans and love us to pieces.
This weekend coming is Nynke a Dutch girls last weekend in Ghana before she goes home. So we are all spending it with her. She fundraised a lot of money before she came out here and is buildiong a classroom for her school in Gomoa Achianse. There current classrooms are palm roofed and are less than shacks, they are aful with a communal black board that is shared around the teachers. So we are helping with the building works on the saturday. Yeah Ben the builder! Then on saturday night we found a bar outside town near a hotel which is cheap so we are going to go there and celebrate her leaving doo in true drunken British style. The sunday we have planned to travel to this plush hotel on the outskirts of town and go swimming. Entry to the clean, hygienic pool in the hotel is 62p for the entire day, and it is open air so a bit of sun bathing is due.
Next week on wednesday Andy, Cara the Anadian and myself are going to the Volta region which is about 7 hours tro tro ride away. We are spending 5 days there and are going to hike up the mountains to visit Wli water falls (pronounced fli). The water is safe to swim in beacuse the water is turned up by the falls and therefore billarzia does not live there. (I hope)!
My stolen diary is now replaced by a Ghanina teachers handbook and in two days I have caught up on most things that have happened with the help of looking at digital photos as reminders and other people giving me dates of things that have happened. So give me two more days and it will never miss it again. I like the challenge of writing everyhting and I will always bounce back, you know me. I wont let anything like a poxy robbery spoil my African fun.
Oh when we went home to Kwnayaku from Swedru the other day we rode on the back of an open truck. It was so fun. I was wearing my army green Che Guevara hat and looked like a revolutionary leading the invasion. We had to hide when we went through police road blocks.
I even met the DJ of the local Golden Star Fm radio station. He invited me on to his show to ttalk about English football. Wow can you imagine me slating Spurs and currsing Chelsea's dominance. I cannot wait. The trouble is he took Anndy's mobile number to contact me and as we are right in the sticks in Kwanyaku which really is the arsehole end of nowhere we cannot be reached by mobile unless we stand in a tree in the garden. Nana can get reception whereever he. Well he probably has a special chiefs phone. Coincidently he is still wearing his towl around the house but was wearing some fetching sky blue pj's earlier. That man demands respect from all who live in the area, but it is hard to bow and look respectful while his hairy nipples are hanging out of a towl. He commisioned Sister Ajuwa (Doris) to make us some shirts and when Andy and I stepped out looking like the bloody chuckle brothers he said we look beautiful. (He said that while wearing a towl and night cap combo)!
Ghana is the most surreal place that I have ever been to. I love it out here the photos I have to show you will be amaizing. Not only of the truly African mud huts with half naked women outside pounding fufu, tbut the photos of Queen mothers in all their spendours and chiefs draped in gold jewellery with an enterage of drummers, fan wavers and staff holders. The place is amaizing. I will definately come back one day.
Tomorrow is the belated staff verses year one pupils football match. I have a point to proove as the school team wre humiliatingly destroyed in every game that they played. So I have got to go out with all guns blazing and try and run the show. Looking at most of the teachers I could well be the star player unless the fatter oldre ones have some tricks hidden up their baggy colourful sleeves! I am now in chanrge of the school athletics team as the football season is over. This entails more 5 am starts and lots more running. Apprantly every morning I have to run to Swedru and back with the students. That is an 8 km round trip, bloody hell I am either going to be super fit when I get back or a shell of a former man!
Last night in the bar before we left to eat Jollof rice at Henriks we looked at everyones photos. I somehow have a knack of appearing in many peoples pictures in the most strage and random poses. Sommethimes I know I am in the shot but most of all I am chasing pesky kids away in the back ground or some local is painting my hands red with this strange leaf that they have. That strange when someone comes up to you and starts painting you. My hands were red for two days aftre and I looked like I had been in a slapping competition. Oh some Enbglish boy turned up in our town. He was only in Ghana for 11 days before he decided that he didnt like it and went home. The moment I saw him the Dutch girls and I agreed that he was a proper mummies boy and wouldnt last long. Another Canadian lad bailed ship not long ago as he got malaria and felt homesick. But 11 days is hardly worth the plane ticket, what a bloody wimp!
There is a local girl called Abena who likes to turn up at Nanas and ask for us. Frank who lives with us but is of no relation to anyone in the house but lives there none the less calls her the pale girl. This is odd because yes she is less black, but they consider her to be almost white and therefore not quite acceptable. Strange! But anyway I digress she is another stalker that we have, she keeps trying to hold my hand but I end up dancing away from her. All Ghanians even men love to interlock your fingers with theirs and hold your hands as you walk. At first I was put off by trhis but now I am used to it and just accept it. Althoiugh when Nana a 66 year olf man with a towl and a night cap on did it to me I had to try really hard not to burst out laughing!
Well thats all I have time for now folks. Ihope you enjoyed this elongated catchup email from the land opf drums, dancing and hot hot weather (we havnt even reached the Jannuary dry windy season with sahara winds yet).
Take care all and make sure you are all keeping healthy. Be nice to your Mothers and wash behind your ears.
This is Ben Whateley-Harris in Africa signing off.
Love to you all
x x x x x x x
P.s. I was dressed up like a chief in full ceremonial robes and special golden sandals and made to sit on the httrone. Wow they actually want me to take the chiefs tests to become an underling to the Barina (strong man) chief!!!

Ben's African Adventure 5

November 21st 2005
Goodevening to one and all. Sit down make yourself comfortable and have a cup of tea because it is that time of the months where Ben updates you on his truly amaizing adventures. I start this particular account on a sad note. I was robbed! My bag was stolen. I am not bothered about the bag itself (even though it is part of a set) but the bag contained my travel diary that had so much information, drawings, thoughts, memories and recollections in it that it hurts to think about losings it. The other bad things is that along with my bag my bloody sandalls which were in the bag are gone too. So let me tell you the story of the inceident in question. There I was on the beach at 2am. I was naked but I am not going into the reasons why. Suddenly out of the darkness a man runs by grabs my bag which was lying on the same about a meter away and then he scarpers. I jump up immediately and give chase, but the sod runs over the rocks and dissappears. I followed of course and ran barefoot and shitfaced over the rocks which resulted in cutting my feet up terribly. But I lost him and my belongings with it. I ran in a vain hopr of finding him but ended up running into the court yard of this bar. There I met Andy and Henrik who had seen the incident and given pursuit too. I was angry and storming about in a violent temper shouting every obscenity I could think of. But them it dawned on the the situation I was in. There I was standing in a bar in a foreighn land stark naked with a whole host of Germans l;ooking at me in bewilderment and some very excited Ghanians staring at me as if they have never seen a white naked man before. So over all the situation was one of pure comedy on my behalf. I sam just annoyed that my diary was stolen. I have got some explaining to do now to a Canadian girl who lives near me as I borrowed two books off her to take away and they were in the bag too, she is not going to be too happy! Apart from that one situation I have had such a cool time, but all my notes for my emailo writing session were in the diary. So from memory here goes. My football team is going from strength to strenght, we lost 3-0, 4-0, 4-0, then mad a matched rained off and on our last game of the season we put in a fantstic performance only losing six nil! Yep, thats right my team is awful (I blame the coach). In truth I trained the team every morning at 5.30am and then again at 3.30pm. But when it came to picking the team the bombastic cane wielding old school teacher who stinks to high heaven of narcotic nuts picks his favourites. Even though some of them have never been to a training session before be persists on picking them for matches and ergo we lose. BUt because I was standing there on the side line shouting instructions in pigin fante and very basic English a chant erupted from the crowd (Yes we actually have crowds and it is not one man and his dog, it is several hundred villagers and all their goats). Anyway this chant erupted and it was translated to me by the lines man who told me it means, 'Whiteman doesnt know what he is doing'. So I gavew a few eveil darting looks at a few of the main perpertrators and chucked a slice of water melon at another singer! So our record in football has been, played 4 lost 4 scored none and had 17 goals conceded. We are just amaizing! Apart from that I have done so much and been to so many wonderous places. I am so thankful that my camera wasnt stolen or any used film as I have taken so many fantastic pictures. We have been to all the coastal places near by and had a fantastic weekend of relaxing on a beach in a place called winneba. 10 of us of all nationalities (except German) went away and just basically got very drunk on these bizarre Ghanian drinks called 'Waist and power' and 'Apetishi'. In our local main town (Agona Swedru) there are many volunteers. We are all teaching in schools around the Agona area in places such as Afrnsi, Achiansi, Kwanyaku, Ajumarko and Bobikouma. But we all meet on Wednesdays in Swedru to arrange places to go on the weekends and make plans to visit each other in their host homes. There is a large gropup of Germans in our town, but they do not speak to anyone bar their own. It is so strange to be in a town and see a group of clicky Krauts who ignore all other nationalities and volunteers. At first I thought that they were just ignoring the Brits, but after a conversation with the Dutch girls it turns out that it wasnt that at all and they are blatantly rude and ignore everyone. So lets ignore the Germans from now on in this email. Our main group of friends in Swedru consists of Nynke a Dutch girl from Amsterdam, Astrid a Norweigan, two British girls who we have nicknemade moaner and moaner, Henrik the porn obsessed Swede, Cara the leggy Canadian,Andy my room mate and two Dutch girls who have now sadly gone home. So this is or was the main group that would go on large scale excursions at weeksnds and generally cause lots of trouble. I have already talked about the fact tyhat we went to Winneba and Apam last weekend. The weekend beore we went o Kakum national park and did the canopy walk and also we went to a place called Mankessim which had nothing there. Next weekend I am helping to buy buildings materials for a school in Achianse. Nynke has fundraised some money which was doubled by her tennis club back in Holland. Therefore as she is a truly altristic person she is builind one whole classromm. But she has got Andy and myself along for the ride to make sure that she is not swindled on prices and to check up on the buildinsg when she is away travelling with her friend who will come over from holland. Then we have planned to go to the Volta region with Cara, Astrid and some other Norweigans we do not know. We are also hopefully taking Henrik along for the ride. The Volta region is the large man made lake that swamps one side of the country. But there are natural waterfalls that we can swim in as the water is not still so diseases and other nasties cannot live in it. I am now struggling to write about things as I always needed my prompt cards out of my diary, but alas it was stolen and I half want to scream and shead a tear because it was so personal and is worthless to someone\, anyone else. The other half of me is being realistic and says that sod it. The diary would only be put in a box in the loft and not looked at again. I know the dates of the things we did and the places we went so that when I put all the photos in albums I can label them correctly. Why am I writing this, shit happens as they say. Life goes on, it could have been, much, much worse. Hey I could have had to be locked in a room full of Germans! Anyway I did go to the police station and low and behold in the station is an open cell like you see in western films with prisoners holding their arms out and making one hell of a noise. The place stunk of faeces and I didnt get too close. This weekend Andy, Henrik and myself along with some weedy new lad who has been here a week and is homesick already went to Cape coast. This new lad was put with us tto try and cheer him up!!! Anyway we met up with Rhi the welsh girl from our orientation weekend who lives in Kumasi ands she brought a friend down called Miranda from London. So this weekend has been rather bizarre and definately one to te;ll the grand children about. I will now stop writing as I canot remember what I have done, but rest assured it is fantastic. I will start a new diary with all that I have done, places I have been and loads of other stuff too and it will be as good as new. Take care all Love Ben x x x

Ben's African Adventure 4

November 6th 2005
Sit down, starp yourself in and let the fun begin. Yes it's that time again. You have guessed it, it is the fourth installment of Ben's African Adventure. So are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin...... So much has happened since I last wrote that I dont know where to start from. The beginning is the best place I suppose, so here goes. Andy and I were informed by our host family that we were to attend the funeral of our host sisters grandmother. We found out that the family that we live with is very bizarrely related and incestious. Everyone seems to not be an actual relation but somehow they are all brothers and sisters. As it transpires Nana was marrried before and some of the kiids are from another relationship and others from his current wife who lives in London. But it is most confusing as only some of them went to the funeral. The funeral itself from unlike anything I have been to before. Everyone is in balck and red and there is loud music, drumming prosessions where they carry the massive ornate white coffin shoulder high through the town and also dancing. A funeral is a 3 day affair and the partys go on all night. I was made to dance in the street on command many a time. After our antics at the funeral we thought life couldnt get any strabger, but how wrong we were. We were taken by Nana in his full ceremonial ornate clobber to the inaugeration of the new queen mother of the village of Nyarkom. This was a huge affair with all the local chiefs coming out to play. They all tried to outdoo each other on grandness. Nana wore a golden robe with many large golden chains and rings. Many other chiefs carried golden staffs and wore crowns. Some had large entourages with them of drumers, men carrying large fans and also slaves carrying parasols for them. All the chiefs sat on thrones and made long speeches in fante and twi that I couldnt understand a word of. Then as I was beginning to nod off and get bored in the head, out came the goat. Yes you have guessed it they sacfificed the goat and poured its blood over the sacred stones to perform a ritual called 'livation', this is a homage to the gods. But we didnt look out of place in amongst all this grandness. Not at all, because Sister Doris had made Andy and myself matching bright ornage Kente cloth print African shirts. She measured me and mine is huge and very hot to wear as it is so thick and has a black lining. The trouble is Andy and myself look like the bloody chuckle brothers wearing them and kept on repeating 'to me, to you' all day. In our village I have become quite the local celebrity, everywhere I go hoards of screaming children follow me and I now can tell them off in fante 'mon koh firi', (all of you bugger off home). The adults think this is hilarious, but on a good note I am not called obroni anymore but I am always met with cries of 'Hello Mr. Ben'. I was even shouted at my the Queen mother of Kwanyako when I was out running along the Accra road. She went by in a tro tro leaning her large frame out of the window and shouting at me for being mad! We are now on half term holiday from school, or mid term as they call it. So I have a break from teaching my English lessons and football. My classes have gone down in size as they have sorted the first year into three sections: Home economics, Agriculture and arts. So where I was origionally teaching classes of 75 upwards I am now only teaching classes of about 45. I am also the form tutor of the first year agriculture students, but they are in some building on the other side of the field and there class room is constantly invaded by goats and chickens. The school football team is coming oalong leaps and bounds. We have been training twice daily, 5.30am and at 3pm. We were all ready for our first game of the season. So we loaded the school truck up (30 kids both girls and boys teams) all crammed into the back of the truck and then we drove to a place called Nsaba where the game was to be played. When we got there it turned out that the match wasnt to be played in Nsaba but in Bremen Akisuma another 20 odd miles away. By now we were late for the kick off, so the truck took me and the boys to the school and we ran straight on to the pitch without warming up all stiff from being crammed into a truck and lodt 4-0. I was shouting like a mad man on the side lines but our team were awful. All the training I had done went out of the window as they forgot how to pass to feet, mark up and tackle. It was abismal and I cringed while I watched the game. ASfter the match the mad deputy head turned up and asked me to come with him. So off I went, I assumed that we were walking towards the town but he led me into the bushes pulled down his trousers and proceeded to deposit the most noisy turd I have ever heard. Charming, and he wanted me to come with him. When he was quite finished (by this point I had sneaked off to a safe 100yards away) I thought that maybe we are going into the town now but oh no we went back to the school, so he wanted me to come with him while he did his business in the woods. What an odd man! Then all the kids crammed into the back of the truck and we headed off back to Kwanyaku. By this time it was dark and the truck didnt have any lights, so we drove home very slowly and pulled over and put the one working indicator on when a car approached. We were also stopped by three police check points and searched, the driver at one point got in to a rather heated argument with one police man. (The police are checking for armed robbers). Yesterday Andy, Henrik from Sweden and Monique from Holland and myself all went to Kakum national park. It was fantastic, we walked the high up canopy walk. The whole thing looked like it was going to fall apart at any moment but we survived none the less. Monique was terrified of heights so she screamed when I started to bounce up and down making the whole walkway jerk violently and make cracking noises. The views from the canopy walk were spectacular but unfortunately we didnt see any forest monkeys or thew elusive forest dwelling elephant as we were making far far too much noise and giggling all the time while large ants attacked us. As we are all on a break from school, we all deciided to actually see the places where other volunteers are staying. As we are all dotted arounf the Agona region in little villages and make the pilgrimmage to the bar in Swedru every Wednesday. So last Thursday Andy, Nynke the Dutch girl and myself went to the village of Ajumarko to see carla and Monique. There village is nicer than ours as their roads are surfaced and dont have pot holes the size of sumo wrestlers in them. But while there we saw a tro tro hit two goats and the driver got attacked by angry villagers. That day we also went to the town of Mankessim where there are large shrines called Posubans. Next weekend we are going to the beach and the weekend after we are having a reunion with the girls who we were with in Accra, who are coming down from Kumasi to see us. We have also planned to go to the Volta region in December with a canadian girl who we met in Swedru and we are hpoing to make the marathon trewk up north to Mole national park to go on a safari. But thats still to come in the months ahead. As for now I am living with the stragest family in the world, and Nana has worn nothing but a toewl for a week now. The oddest thing is that when you go out into the village at night the guys from the house try and hold your hand! In Ghana you see loads of men of all ages holding hands, it is a friendship thing, but it really makes me laugh when Thomas and Frank try to grab me and walk with me. Oh Thomas wants me to take him on in a drinking competition with the drink of Apetishi. It is some strange strong spirit that tastes of earth and wood. All Ghanians love it. Well I better be off as I have wrote far too much for you all to read. I am in Cape Coast now and now going to the beach with three Dutch girls so it should be fun. Take care one and all. I will see you again for another fun packed episode of Ben's African Adventures. Sleep tight Ben x x x