Ben's African Adventures 17

Put on your very best Allan Quartermain khaki clothes, don your hunting cap and pick up the Elephant gun. Your going to need them as you desend into the jungle which is Ben's African Adventures. Hold on tight for were going on a canoe trip to Insanity and Back!
Welcome my readers who I know all go round my Mum's house and read this from the overhead projector that she has no doubt installed and guzzle gallons of her 'special' tea. Why is it special I hear you ask? Well when you come down with the exotic rashes you will know why.
But that is bescides the point and let me now return to my train of thought and tell you all about what has happened since I last wrote to all you lovely people at home and away.
I write this email from the filthy streets of Accra for I have left Swedru and Kwanyako and Doris' cooking for good. I have left the house where Nana parades around in his ceremonial towell saying 'apome' everytime he sees me. Foe now dear readers I have embarked on my own into the unknown on a magical journey that I have no Idea where it will end. Well the Volta Region actually! So after lugging my bags through the crowede, sweaty streets of the capital city I finally reached SYTO. Our organisation that all volunteers work through in Ghana. I deposited my bags there and navigated myself through the hustle and bustle avoiding the open sewers and draisn with athletic awe and gazelle like jumps. Really I should be given some sort of medal for being here almost 4 months and not falling down one of those drains. Many people I have seen take a tumble into the filth that festers in them.
Oh I have to tell you a little story that happened to a Dutch volunteer in the Western Rgion. Tina the boss of SYTO told me this between hysterical laughter and gasps for air. This Dutch lad went to the toilet in one of the pit toilets at his primary school. The pits are massive holes dug in the ground where all the faeces rots down. The hole os covered by board with a hole cut through them so you have somthing to aim at. Well he pulled his trousers down, squatted and heard a cracking sound. The next moment he was up to his neck in the very best poo that school kids can offer. Luckily the pit wasnt that full so he didnt drown. But the poor Dutch lad who is now known as the 'Brown Obroni' had to be rescued using sticks and rope. I chuckled when I heard that and now as a recult do not use the toilet in our school and do my business in bushes a I wave at the people balancing large pots of fruit on their heads!
But I digress. Let me get back to the story at hand. So here I am in Accra the filthyest, smellyiest hole in the world and the only reason I am here is so I can escape to the Volta Region tomorrow to see the things that I didnt see the last time I was there and go on the infamous Akosombo - Yeji ferry. This ferry is an old paddle steamers from the 1960's and 'apparantly' according to Mr. Offei at our schhol it has sunk 4 times in the last ten years! The same boat I replied, the very same he remarked. So the ferry is actually a resurecting boat. Wow a holy boat trip. As if religion is not too abundant already in this country. But this morning on the tro tro from Swedru to Accra as I settled down with a good book and had a whole 2 hours of uniterupted reading, it must have been a national preachers strike. Whatever it was for the first time in ages I wasnt subjected to Christianity on a plate with an apple shoved in its mouth!
It is quite an exciting time in Ghana at the moment as the nation is in football fever. The African Cup of Nations has kicked off and I have been watching many matches in locals bar where someone wheels a tv in from somehouse that they have probably stolen it from and the entire village gathers around it to watch the matches. May times have I been shoved to the front and made to sit in the pride of place spot because I am an Obroni and there fore must see the football. I was watching some of the group stage games and someone shouted 'who is he', I being a football fan piped up and told tis man who the player was, who he plays for and that being a goalkeeper he couldnt catch a cold let alone the crosses being flung into his box. From that moment on I have been Mr.Football and everyone asked me all sorts of questions and I have become a football messiah. But only in knowledge not unfortunately in skills and fancy feet.
All the blokes in our house (theres loads of them) all talk about football all the time, but as soon as the match comes on Ghana TV where the camera men are obviously drunk and the commentaors have as much knowledge of the games as the dead cat in the street the vanish. So if I watch football at Nana's house it is with Vida. Vida is Nana's wife and I call her to her amusement Mrs. Nana. She is 60 years of age and moved to London at 21 and still lives there. She comes back to Ghana every year to escape the British winter. Ergo she has a very good grasp of English and will be talking fluently in Fante to Sister Bea about her poor handling of her childs unbringsing and then will shout 'Shut it' to one of th kids making a racket in the hallway. I feel I must also explain about Sister Bea. Or the pison Dwarf as I lovingly call her. She is basically evil and smacks and abuses the kids in the house, so much so that I have stood up and placed myself between her and Anne one of the little girls in the house as she goes to hit her. Why does she hit her? Well probably because she is a black hearted eveil bint thats why!
Anyway I end up always watching football with Vida who loves to shout at the TV and call players 'Prats' and the greatest Ghanaian insyult a 'Nam', or in English a Fish! As I type this a huge roar has just gone up around the internet cafe for Ghana have just scopred against Senegal!
So there I am watching football with Mrs. Nana and she turns to me and says 'I like sport, but my favourite is wrestling'. I immediatle ythougfht of all that American showboating Hulk Hogan stuff that I used to watch as a kid, but no she mean British wrestling. As it transpires Mrs. Nana is a huge fan of Big Daddy, Giant Haystacks and Mick McManus. She is a rather large lady and I cannot get the image of her putting Nana in to a headlock before they go to bed!
When the Ghana verses Nigeria match was televised I watched it with all the teachers and the groundstaff in the school. They were going beserk and shouting all sorts of obscenities at the TV. But the things they were calling the igerian players beggers belief. Before Nigeria scored the teachers were all callingthe Nigerian team things such as and I quote: 'Pirates, ruffians, wife beaters, criminals, petty thieves, unholy fools andthe Crooks of West Africa'. So thers nothing like having good relations with your neighbours then! In the end Ghana lost and if they play like that in the world cup they will be a laughing stock.
I mentioned the girls in our house. Well I better explain what role they play for they are not related to Nana. They are slaves girls. House maidens who the family will gladly keep them home from school to do their washing, scrub the floor and sweet the house every morning at 5am. The poor lasses are basically treated like skum and are forced to sleep in a crobner. That is why I take extra care to bring them food, sweets and give them xmas gifts and also random things like pens for school and most of my medical kit. I hate to see them get smacked, but if I say to Nana not to allow it, it is interfering with traditional and culture and I have been warned not to interfere for I am a Westerner who has no ideas of Africa! I respect that their are cultural differences but the beating of children is somthing that I am prepared to step accross the line to stop. Already I have told all the teachers that caning is wrong and my goodness do they whack them hard! I said why not give them productive punishments like litter picking and cutting the grass with their cutlasses that they bring to school, but the teachers I think like to smack a kid or two. I thik it makes them feel big and manly!
Let me get away from that rether horrible subject that makes me bite my tongue when I see it. Let me tell you about all the other good and cool things that have happened and all the surreal things that makes Africa so enchanting.
The school had a leaving presentation for us. there was a poster put up outside the staff room which aid that all staff should attend a meeting at 1.16pm!! Yes 1.16 not quarter past but 16 minutes past precisely and the theme of the meeting is to say goodbye to 'our white comrades'. Wow I am a comrade, I feel like I should be marching with a communist flag. Comrade Ben, ttheres a certain ring to that. But again I digress. The presentation was basically a load of speeches. The headmaster mubled some thanks to us then all the teachhers stodd up and said a few words for us. The PE department or Edmund stood up and said some really nice thankyous to me and Vincet who is not only a teacher but our neighbour said some really moving thanskyous to both of us for teaching at the school and giving up our western lifestyle to come and lives with the toils of Africa. They even presented us with a African shirt each. Mine is lovely although about 100 times to big for me, but lovely none the less. The African cannot comprehend the size small. So instead I get extra large. I wore this shirt for the rest of the day and I looked like a total prat. But the teachers loved it and the kids thought I was 'beautiful' as they kept calling me. Then just as I thought the presentation was oover and I could go back to teaching they prayed for our souls!
My last lesson in English I taught an entire lesson on Irony using the peoms of Siegfried Sassoon, but alas it went right over the kids heads. So I thougt I would teach something much more simple and something that they could understand. So I had a ponder and decided that I would teach them Limericks. But it was a disaster. No kid in the class can grasp the concept of rhyme. They can get the basics such as bat rhymes with cat. But thats it. They try to rhyme words that are so different that I want to pull out my hair, which I hasten to add Sister Doris after cooking her shitto put in plats! I look lovely!
Hers something funny. Nana has concubines, I am not kidding because I met one of them. This lady came up to me and intriduced herself to me as Nana's mate. Not mate in the friend form but in the animal mating ritual form! I just smiled and waved as I do to all weierd and wonderful people I meet, including the painted man in the street who was covered from head to toe in white emulsion so that he could be white like me. I told him that it was unsafe and then decided to make a run for it as he could grab me at any moment and smear paint all down my falling apart sun bleached clothes.
Now that schoo, is properly back underway and the kids have all decided that they really should return the PE work which I have been doing has doubled. Every morning at 4.30 am I meet Edmund the sports master at the school and he blows his whistle repeatedly until the kids come out of the dorms and enbark on a long run with us. But this one morning last week gone. The kids all made a run for it and hid in the class rooms. Some even barracaded themselves into their rooms. The result was that Edmund got a bucket of water and througfh it through the window resulting in screams. This he did to both male and female dorms. He is a really small man, much smaller than me and to see him run and shoulder barge a barracaded door and bounce off was very amusing. The runs that we did or rather I did as Edmunds ran to the end of town and then stopped while I had to run to a placed called Amenkowah and then run back are along the most uneven rioads that I have ever set my feet on. My poor plates of meat are knackered now!
Oh I actually for the first time the other day read the list of side effects on my malaris capsules. I am on one a day Doxycyline or what ever it is called, but it has the side effect that bleaches your skin!!!! I discovered that while I was at the 'Big Tree' in Akin Oda, well it is actually just outside Akim Oda in the Eastern Region. This tree is supposedly the Biggest tree in West Africa. But I dont know if that means tallest or widest gerth! I think I have seen bigger qwhen I was in the Volta Region but who am I to differ. The sign says 'Big Tree' and big as it is I still wasnt very impressed at all.
I left the host family today but have to return at some point before I go home. Doris took it upon herslef to get Andy and I more of her African shirts made and therefore qwe have to return to collect them. But as I was leaving Thomas or Kwame to give him his Ghanaian name gave me the worst posing picture I have ever seen of him legs crossed with a cheeky grin and asked me to show this to all the females I know at home to find him a 'white wife'! All the Ghanaians are trying to snag a wife or husband in Britain, Germany or other counrties. Evertime I go into an internet cafe the person next to me is writing an explicit email to an American called Bob pretending to be a woman. Only recently the Daily Graphic Ghana's most prestigious and shite newspaper reported that a Ghanaian man went to prison for pretending to be a woman and swindling some gullable fat yank out of fifteen grand. Serves him right I say. But it maeks the internets runs really slowly as the server cannot cope with all the porn that they download to use as their msn pictures! Even Thomas our host brother does it and he even showed mw a letter which he recieved from some yank with photos of him in differing stages of undress and the final pictures was man hood aloft in hand. Thomas didnt even see anything wrong in this as I tried to explain that it was a little bit suspect to say the least. While Thomas grinned inanely at me with the picture of a naked man in his hand a little voice started shouting 'Ben, Ben., Ben' through the window. Richard after alomsot 4 months has decided to speak and shouts at me all the time, but he is scared of Andy or any other Obronis who come to Kwanyako. There is not an awful lot of volunteers left here, except the new Canadians and Dutch people who have just rocked up. So at the moment I am or was seeing as I have left the British Ambassador to Swedru.
The new l;ot I met in town on Wednesday night and it was like a Jacakanory session as they were all gathered around me while I told travelling stories of where to go i Ghana. They were rather upset when I tld them that I was leaving and then suddenyl out of nowhere I was given leaving beer after beer after Gin after beer. I got back to Kwanyako rather tipsy and called Bea a poison Dwarf to her face. But her English is not that good and just smiles and said 'theres no dinner", Bea doesnt bother to even attempt to feed me. Doris loves to cook and wont let me do anything in the kitchin except make some tea. So I feasted on street meat and probably got more worms from that! That night I couldnt go into the room which I sleep because Nana was taking council with the elders of the village in their and they had filled every available space with chairs. Two hours they spoke about important things. Then suddenly all hell broke lose and shouting galore erupted. Nana being the big boss that he is silenced everyone with a huge booming cry of 'Ten asse' or sit down as it translates. In the end they were all booted out of the room and I went back to sleep. But not for long as I must have just nodded off when I was woken by let more shouting. Whats the matter this time I thought, but it wasnt arguments it was poxy preaching. A local preacher had decided to come to Kwanyako to visit and pay homage to Nana and also bless the house. Of course this cannot be done quiently and has to be done in the loudest voice that a human throat can summon up. They preacher walked around the house a few times with what seemed to be minyons by his side. Eventually the shouting died down and he went into Nana's room where he probably went into a trance or something!
The next morning I was grumpy due to a lovely hangover and lack of sleep. So when I was teaching my General Arts class who are all sweins and badly behaved sods. I decided that maybe as it was my last lesson with them that I woulodnt give them the swwets which I had bpught for them all. But the eagle eyed kiddies spotted them and all hell broke lose. The nearest kids scrambled accross the bests and a stampede followed as they triesd to get to the bag in my hands. I thought I was going to be mobbed so in a flash I lobbed the entire lots spinning into the air. They went absolutely mental scrambling around the floor trying to get to them. I left them to it and then conmtinued to write something that they couldnt understand on the board.
Well thats about all thats happened. Theres lots more but I think I have written far too much and really need to reply to some of the emails which I heve been sent rather than just write a lot of old bollocks about the odd things that happen to me here in Ghana. Talking of odd things I saw a woman with a green face! Yes a face that was bright green. I tried to get a closer look but she scared me as she looked like Mr. Frog from the wind in the willows illigitimate child!
Well I do have to go no as two German girls who I had no idea where still in Ghana have just come in and poked me. Now I have been informed that I am off for drinks.
Cheerio my dears, keep on trucking
Ben

Ben's African Adventure 16

Are you wearing you safety pants everyone?
Good now that I know you are all protected I can let you enter my world of unbridled fun and filth. Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the intrpid exploits which make up Ben's African Adventures. Number 16 even!
So let me enlighten you on my latest exploits. After I ventured into lands unknow following in the footsteps of famous African explorers such as: Captain Speke, Major Laing, Clappertoon, Oudrey, Denham, Livingstone, Richardson, Bath, Overey and Baron Von Deken I hjave returned to a life less ordinary but bizarre none the less.After all my exploits roaming around the country like a Nomad I have retuenred via a small stint in Kumasi to teaching my darling little children in Kwanyaku secondary technical school in the horrible humidity of the central region. Oh how I long for a return of the Harmatan induced dry heat of the north where it is just too hot to sweat.
While I was in Kumasi I decided to explore the city and weave my way thro8ught the jostling crwods of people to see all that I could. I ended up innthe crafts centre and immediately was desended upon by hawkers and staute sellers. My white skin shines out like a beakon and must beckon to them to all come over and harass me. But I escaped by jumping a fence to freedom!
Kumasi is Ghanas second biggest city but has a poulation twice the size of Accra's. Ergo the streets are heaving wqith people all spewing out from the mayhem which is West Africa's biggets open market. The infamous Majetia market. Where people go to find one item and 15 years later emerge married, with two children and a long beard. Even the women! While there I went to the Ghana Armed forces Museum. A grand old place with a lot of history held within. I have been reading up on all the aspects of colonial rule and the fight for independance which Ghana achieved in 1957. The first African cuntry to do so. I also learnt a lot about the Ashanti war of 1900. Where the Ashanti tribes laid seige to the Kumasi fort and held the govenor and other soldiers there for many days. It was led by the Queen Mother Yaa Asebtwaa, as the King Prempeh had been exiled. She later died in excile in the Seychelles. The guide was very knowledabel but I had to correct him on a few aspects of the tour. I giggled while I did it and many people then started asking me questiosns!
Kumasi is a nice city but it is far too crowded and all the throngs of people in the streets mean that you have to hang on to your wallet for dear life and watch out to avoid being bundled into an open sewer. Also Kumasi proably has the worst drivers on the city streets, even worse than those crazy guys and dolls in Paris!
Before I left Kumasi on a long long tro tro heading to Accra from where I would catch a tro tro to Swedru and be re-aquainted with my odd host family. I walked past the Kumasi zoo. The poor creatures looked so dejected. I was so surprised not to see Greenpeace or the WWF capiagning outside. I refused to go in on principle when somepeople I was with did so.
On my travels I have met many strange people from all the corners of Africa and far off places. One woman in a post office said to me, 'we dont live in trees, tell your country that'. I said yes I did know that and I am not so ignorant to think so. But I will delightfully inform all of my kin on my arrival at Heathrow. Some Ghanaians have a very strange view of us Westerners. But one man a muslim fellow with beard and flowing robes introduced me to the delights of Sun Tea. A wee metal teapot is placed in the sun and a fantastic potent brew is brewed inside. The result a good head rush when you drink it. 'What is in it' I asked, well the chap just loked at me and shiled. So what ever I have ingested is a mystery to me. Like most meals out here really!!
After a long tro tro ride to Accra the horrible, dirty, smelly city full of rude people I escaped to Agona Swedru as soon as the tro tro would leave. For the first time here the tro tro didnt have a preacher onboard. Wow peace and quiet for one. It was however full of those people who try and sell ointments that can cure the world but no God today! Many tro tros are boarded by these Evangelical fanatical preachers who shout and scream. When they see a white person, thats it. They hone in to you and shout directly at you. I like to toy with them and play a game called 'lets talk as loudly as possible about some rude subject and try and out doo them'. It works to a certain dergree. But this one preacher would not be beaten. He decided to take it upon himself and try to get me to join in. I refused point blankly and when I didnt say Amen with the rest of the tro tro he went ballistic at me. What did you do I hear you cry! Well my children all I did was tell him that his flies were open and he stormed off in a huff! One nil to Ben I think.
When we got back to Kwanyaku it was dark and Nana was so pleased to see us. Never in all the time that we have spent there had he chatted so openly to me. He is always very formal and regaal. Which is the customs for chiefs to be. That evening as he told me all about his 18 years in the Ghanaian army the Uber chief came to stay.
This man is Nans boss. Nana Kodjo. He is the chief of all chiefs in the Agona region and he seemed to locve me. He hugged me, spoke to me in the worst English I have ever heard. Loved the fact that I had a Ghanaian name and tried to get Nana to make me a sub chief and run the trials to become one. No thanks mate I said!
Just as he was leaving Doris in her piercing voice shouted 'Come and eat your shitto'. Yes Thats not a spelling mistake, shitto is this thick sauce stuff that she likes to serve up to us. But in all truth it is brown and I can see where the name was derived from.
It is back to school now and instead of teaching English I had to teach politica to a group of giggling girls. Only half the school has reported back after the holidays and the form 3's have exams in a month. Many do not regard their education as anthing worth while and many skip school to earn a few thousand cedis selling stuff down the markets. Also on my arrival at school the school term was officially opened by a travelling preacher and I was introduced as the 'Foreign Coach'. Talking of coaching and sports I have now been made the acting head of sports in the school. Oh great! I have to organise all the athletics teams outings and competitions and the inter house competitions. I also have to start getting up at 5am and running with the cross country team!
This morning I went o school but before I queued for the toilet. I got in an an entire fishhead was floating in the toilet water. Now that must have hurt passing that I thought. Doris was walking a bit like John Wayne so I put it down to her dirty work!
While travelling many people ask for my address. They always say that they will visit me. So about 15 Ghanaians are walking around with the address of Apsley house museum in London in their pockets, I am so mean. But I am sure my dear old Mum wouldnt want half of Ghana turning up on their doorstep! The other things I have notice are that the further up north you go the facial tribal scarring gets more intricate and some have faces covered in an almost spider web pattern. Also kids have huge protruding navals from the lack of medical facilties from when they were born. Some protrude out two whole inches!
Other news and I have found out where I am off to with VSO. Finally after months of waiting and anticipation I was emailed and told that I am going to be working with people with disabilities in Indonesia for 3 months. Then I am doing the same thing for 3 months in Glasgow! I cannot wait.
Being back down south and back into a routine of teaching has its advantages. There fruit down here is enormous and the pineapples are the best I have ever tasted. There is a distict lack of fruit up north. The finger nails on peoples left hands are longer down here, it is disgusting. The left hand in Ghanaian culture is the dirty hand for doing dirty things so is considered rude to use. So they let the fingernails grow on that hand. It really is horrible. Especially as you see them picking their ears with the long nail on their little finger! It is enough to put you off you massive Doris sized portion of Fufu!
So then I am back in Swedru and all the other volunteers have gone home. Or so I thought! In truth there are 7 new people and yesterday they came looking for me as Seth our SYTO rep told them that I was a good person to show them around. I have never met a more culture shocked bunch. They were terrified by everything and I had to be guide, confident, protector and beer master for them for a day. I reassurred them all about things that they seemed to be scared of and reassured the girls that when they get marriage propesals they are not serious. They have all taken to wearing fake wedding bands anyway!
So in the same week that Africa inaugerated its first female president I must leave you and continue to tell you of my tales another time.
Til we meet again my faithful readers.

Ben
x x x x x x

Ben's African Adventure 15

Thursday 12th January 2006

Grease yourself up and prepare for the black run. Put on your go faster hat and look stern as it is concentration time again. Yes you have guessed it Ben is back with a new installment in his bizarre tales from the African continent. So put on your special pants are sit tight as I am taking you for a wild rollercoaste of a ride!!!! I write this email from Ghana's second largest city of Kumasi deep in the heart of the traditon and heritage laden region of the Ashanti. One of the only peoples to oppose British rule with staunch military resistance. Thereore that is the reason why there are a few garrisons and forts still remaining in the city to this day. I am staying here in the most basic of shoestring section gusethouses that you could ever imagine. Imageine cockroaches climbing the walls and bizarre crazy men in the room next to you? Well thats what I have got. I was woken by this tremendous banging on the wall this morning and it turnd out to be a crazy mans head!!! So let me update you on how I came to be ere in this rather bizarre situation. Well after spending 3 days in a small town called Nkoranza staying at the Dutch run hand in hand project looking after mentally handicapped kids where I didnt end up cooking for them biut just was told to play with them and makes beads etc which I really enjoyed we moved down to Kumasi where I am now. Nkoranza is a small dusty village in the Brong Afaro region in central Ghana. It took us 4 odd hours to get their from the hot dry climate of Tamale up in the north and now it is back to the wet humidity of the central and coastal regions. The sort of heat that every movement you make coveres you in sweat and at the end of the day makes you as stick as hell. But on the good side you can buy more fruit down here so I feasted on cocnuts and pineapples until I felt like popping. The han in hand project is a life saving programme for many unfortunate youngsters. As there is no national heealth scheme in this develoing country the handicapped are forced onto the streets to live as outcasts. Ghanians fear them and call them Dwarfs. As legend has it that Dwars and 'little people' live in the woods and will kidnap chiuldren and take them away for ten months to act as slaves before releasing them with a mental block! They do belive a load of old tripe these Ghanaians! I had many long chats to the dutch Doctor who ran the place. But in the end I know it sounds horrible but I had to escape as they kids who were all drugged up and therefore very steriods induced and bigger than me were manhandling me. This poor lass with autism could actually physically throw me off a chair and even though all she wanted was for me to stand behind her and rub her head she scared the life out of me. Also I was constantly covered in dribble and the kids would come to the small room that I ocupied and try and get in and whats more even try and open the shower door of the open air bucket shower when I was all soaped up!!!!!! But while I was in Nkoranza I did escape for a day and travel the short distance into the dense undergrowth to the Boabeng-Fiema monkey sanctuary. I hand fed this massive Mona monkey head male who just wandered up to me all proud and cheeky looking. He reached up and gently plucked the outsretched nut from my fingers tips. Then put it in his mouth and stood staring and chewing at me. The mona monkeys are rather inquisitive buggers but the Colubus monkeys with their massive plume like tails rarely leave the trees and justpiss on you from above. My goodness monkey piss stinks! There is this amaizing fungus that grows in the forest called the Strangle ficus. It is a parasitic root that growas around a tree slowly starngling the poor old tree to death. When the tree has died and rotted away all that remains it a sort of wooden cage that you can climb right up. I climed to the very top. I am really just a big kid out here climbing rocks in a place called Bongo and then trees in the forests. I am like peter Pan as I told the hippies who were travelling with us, I will never grow up. Then I stripped naked and ran around, only kidding!!! We explored the entire sanctuary and I just loved the fact that you are left alone to wander around at your own leisure with no hassle from kids or wardens who ask for money all the time. Everyone asks for money and other items. 'Obroni buy me mobile phone', 'Obroni give me money', or even more strange, 'Obroni give me your address and a visa'. OK then I will pull a compleated VISA out of my arse and give you one.!!!!! I hate the fact that now back down south I am called Obroni again. I really prefferred El Sana. There is a nice eastern mythical ring to that name. Obroni is said in such a fierce tone that it can be taken quite offensively. Especially when they call us 'Cos Obroni'. I am not sure what that means but it is a lyric from a folk song about Colnial rule so I think it is an insult or deerogetory in some way. But with all the peope shouting at me in Twi and Fante now rather than the Ewe or Ga languages of the northern regions I am at least able to understand a little of what is said to me. I can even insult people fluently in Fante. Rock on, Wo Ye Nam to you all!!!! (I just called you a fish!!!) So where was I before I went off on one about bloody Obroni chants and language. Oh yeah Boabeng-Fiema monkey sanctuary. So there I was exploring walking up these enchanting canopy covered pathways with fantastically African names such as: Watupuao Trail, Ficus trail, Milksip tree trail, Kyeke trail and the bestt of all the Fetish trail. In Ghana traditional African religions or Pantheism as it is called is still worshipped and carried out. A person who is Christian or muslim but still for example believe in sacrifice for example is called a two headed crocodile. A crocodile because it is a scared animal and two headed because of the two beliefs. Fetish priests are rather odd balls really. They wear nike trainers and jeans by day but when the sun goes down they take off all there clothes, adorn themselves with goatskins and cover their faces and torso with dust and can put spells and curses on people, resurect the dead summon half bird half man creatures from th woods and scare away the evil Dwarfs who steal your children. At Boabeng - Fiema as the monkeys are sacred they are given a full coffin laden buriel. Thats if they find a body of a monkey. The fetish priest actually performs the livationa and last rights at the funeral. Whats more the fetish priests are buried along side the monkeys in the primate graveyard. One was 120 years of age! After I left Boabeng and headed back to Nkoranza the time has seemed to run away from me. I am now fastly approaching the start of the new school term where I will have to return to Kwanyaku and teach English again to a bunch of delinquents who believe that bloody Dwarfs will attack them if they are not carful. Oh I have actually seen one real Ghanaian midget and everyone gave him a really wide berth as he terrified all the locals. Poor sod. Today (12th Jan) I am back in Kumasi the second city. I decided to go to Lake Bosuntwi which is about an hours tro tro ride away from here and is a pain to get to as you have to first find the right tro tro in the bust;ling market with everyone shouting at you. Then when you get in a preacher gets on and goes on about God of all things, then you are mobbed by sellers with all sorts of good from toothpaste to pants balanced on their heads. Finally after all of that and they have crammed on 20 people too many you can set off. Then the sodding thing konks out on the roadside and you have to get out and bloody bump start it. Then a baby vomits on you and you are called Cos Obroni for the millionth time today. Well thats a typical tro tro ride. But hey they are still more fluent that London buses! So off to the lake I went and the route was like a scene from the closing sequence of the Italian job. We descended down rolling hills to this lake which lies in the basin surrounded in there hills that are just too small by a few meters or something to be mountains. The lake is beautiful and no boat is allowed to go on it as it is a scared lake. But if you carve a log and paddle out to fish for the famous telapia fish that live there that is ok. So the entire shore line is riddled with these carved logs on poles jutting out of the water. What is odd about frica and also enchanting at the same time is the number of beautiful juxtapositions that you find. This old rust heap of a jcb was half in half out of the lake covered in maritime debris, such as anchors. It was right next to a beuatiful view of the rollings hills and the lapping tide of the lake. Things like that amaize me. When somehting in Ghana is finished with or broken they just leave it where it is to rust and corrode away. That is also a big problem as litter is everywhere and ruins the land. I wish the government would nuy bins and dustcarts. They are trying to develop. They are also trying to create an ebvironment for tourists. But what tourist is going to come to Ghana when the place is covered in rubbish. People of all ages just for example suck all the water out of the sachets that they come in and then chuck it on the ground. The result is that the storm drains are overflowing with putrid rotting garbeg and the streets look like a riot has just occurred. I hate seeing rubbish and am constantly telling people to stop throwing it on the ground, but will they ever listen? I am just an unshaven Obroni what do I know! I swam in the lake which was really refreshing but I couldnt really enjoy it as I was thinking constantly about Billarzia all the time. Tis waterbound snail infection is supposedly not in this lake but really, if it is in the mighty Volta river and all the feeder rivers how can it not be here also. While I was swmiing I also noticed some massive fish and one came so close I tried to cathc the slippery bugger but alas he escaped! Finally I left the lake and up the winding road I wen in this very old rusty tro tro which was absolutely falling to pieces. The driver was a bloody lunatic to boot. All drivers in Ghana are madmen. They speed around blind bends and reckon they are safe if they just beep their horns. They beep their poxy horns all the sodding time. Why? No one rightly knows, they beep at people on the street, goats, cows, other cars and also most possibly trees. It just seems that they cannot travel ten feet without making a noise. Noise really is part of their culture. If the radio is on then it is up to full volume with the blearing spaekers making the voices sound distotred and inconprihensible. Late at night peolke will for no reason turn on bloody hip life music. Which I hasten to add I hate with a passion. I cannot stand their music. The drumming is cool and their is this traditional gord/calabash made guitar music that is really cool and almost spiritual. But the hip life which is a fusion between hip hop and rap and r and b is just plain and simply a load of old bollocks and I cannot abide by it. So the plan from now on is to leave Kumasi in two days time after I have exhausted all that the city has to offer me. Travel by bus this time not tro tro the 5 hours journey to Accra the capital. Visit our organisations HQ there. Then travel back the two hours to Agona Swedru before cathcing a local tro tro back to Kwanyaku to arrive mid day on Sunday to avoid going to the all singing all dancing extravaganza that is a Ghanaian church. Where they make you go and assume that as you are white you can donate 100,000 cedis to their roof appeal at will. I cannot stand the fact that religion is thrust upon you all the time. Please keep your beliefs to your self. I don not mind what religion you are but please do not try and convert me everytime I get into a tro tro or you speak to me. 'What are you' they always ask. Hewnrik used to get into great arguments with people about his athiesm. Thats why I find it funny and ironic that his host father was a pastor! I suppose I better start planning some English lessons for when I get back. Or maybe I could just wing it and do more Shakespeare with them. I like doing it as it really confuses Madam Della the head of English who only speaks Twi! I also when I get back will be oin sole charge of the school Athletics teams. That means more outings to schools where hopefully the obroni doesnt know wht he is doing chant will not rear its ugly head again. The strangest part will be after all this school holidays travelling where I have done so bloody much will be to go back to the school routine of waking at 5. Going running with the kids. Breakfast, 7.30 am lessons. Then nothing til after lunch where I teach English to the giggling girls thenafter school sports. I reckon I will teach them all how to play full contatc banned in Britain bulldog! A good old rough and tumble wont hurt them (famous last words). I mean if theycan cane kids viciously and very ferociously then I can do rough games with them, cant I? Well I will give it a go and if it gets too violent then I can always make them all do laps! At firts the kids at school didnt listen to me when I was taking them for sports. They spoke in Fante answred me back and tried to bully me. But I made them do loads of laps, shouted at them and made them do punishment press ups and burpees. Then they really hated me. But suddenly they loved me when I did races with them and discovered that even though some are built like powerhouses and some like gazelles I was the fastest over 100meters. When htye saw that the white man could run they really liked me. Then they loved me when played in their practice football games and did all the exericses, warmups and cross country runs with them. But it still didnt stoip them kicking seven bells of s*#t out of me when the staff at our school paued the kids. I still cannot bend my toe fully!!!! Well I think that I have gone off the subject far too much in this email and just let my fingers run away from me. Oh well Its all memories that I am expressing. Oh we went to this placed called Kuntand assi and the locals couldnt understand why I giggled at the name. Some swear words never leave Britain fully. I can get away with quite a lot when I speak to Ghanaians. Sometimes a drunk Ghanaian inebriated on palmn wine and apestishi and stinking to high heaven will accost you in the street. They willdemand to know where you come from, can you get them a VISA and worst of all accuse you personally for the slave trade if they find out that you are British. So mostly I tell people that I am an Aussie. When I drukard is shouting in your face you can call them the following words to their face and htye havnt the slightest inkilng that they are derogetory. Well you can tell them to any Ghanaian and other foreign volunteer to be prtfectly honest. But I wont be so crude as to list all these words (but I must confess that piss lips is my favourite), I am so naughty! Well that just about brings me up to date with all I have done. Or rather all I can think of as I have forgotten to bring my diary with me to this ramshackle internet cafe. Tomorrow I am exploring the bustling streets of Kumasi and Africa's biggest Market. Majetia market. It is a scary and daunting task to prowl around the stalls and many a person has never returned!!!!! I also want to check out this small historical museum and try and find the sacred sword that yes if you believe it is imbedded in a stone somewhere in the hectic city. As legend has it if the sword is removed then the Asantehene (King of Ashanti) and the Ashanti region will crumble and fall. The whole place is full of history and legend and I want to lose mysefl within it for a day. Then back to school. But I am going back to the Volta region to meet the hippies that I travelled with who no doubt will paint my face again and put glitter o me while I sleep. For we are going on the Yeji - Akosombo ferry that supposedly takes 36 hours. But in realtiy has sunk a few times and ran out of fuel and drifted for a few days. I will pay the minimum fare and sleep on deck. So til we meet again my darling readers I bid you a fond farewell. Until we meet again, who knows where, who knows when. Take care and be happy African love Ben the travelling sensation and crazy 'El Sana'! P.S. Henny hows Goran? Guess who we saw? Bloody Jackie in Paga. She looked white and pale and was annoying still ha ha!!!!

Ben's African Adventures 14

Put on your dancing shoes and clutch my hand.
For I am taking you all on a magical dance into the mystic world of Ben's travels.
Get ready for a very fast number that in which I will swing you around the dancefloor at a tremendous pace!

Because it's that man again, sit back relax and dont forget to go to the toilet first because Ben has yet another installment of gut wrenching fun for you all to digest........... Oh and I have been to Burkina Faso (twice)!! So then I will continue from the moment I left the internat cafe on New Years day and started to celebrate in style. That day I went to the Tamale arts centre and witnessed a drumming and dance spectacular. It was really good and I enjoyed all the Ghanaians jumping around in the traditional dresses, but the drumming was so bloody loud that my ears almost bled. Then the lead dancer clapped eyes on me and that was it. I was plucked from the audience and made to dance like a fool around this room imitation these thrusting movement. Some old lady almost had a heart attack!! I left Tamale and we all decided to head up to the Upper Western region. This is hardly ever visited my travellers and no volunteers are based there as it is so bloody remote. It lies just on the Border between Burkina Faso and The Ivory coast ans the Black Volta river is all that seperates the two countries. To get to the upper western region was a really bizarre task as we all had to clamber onto this ramshackle bus with about 100 people all crammed in and we bumped along these remote dirt tracks passing the quaintest ands smallest truly African mud hut villages along the way. The scenery was fantastic and I loved watching as we rattled along, the only problem was this rather large African lady decided to sit on me and I almost suffocated. We reached Wa the regional capital and the little dusty town was full of delights. I went to the Wa Naa's palace to seek permission from the Chief to enter the twon. But he was away on business in Accra and so I spoke to the elders and the custodians of the peace. It was all very nice. I had to sit cross legged on the floor and say 'salaam alekum' a lot and bow a lot. After that I bought from a stall at the tro tro station ont of these long flowing muslim gowns that is fantastic evening where as it gets rather chilly up here even thjough it is incredibly hot during the day. I even got a boubou hat to go with it. One of the girls I am travelkling with dared me to put it all on and go to the mosque, but I didnt fancy being beaten up so chickened out! While in Wa we explored the bustling colourful markets and I found a stall that sold multi coloured teapots. The reason we had all gone to Wa (there are still 6 of us travelling together but we split up today) was that we all wanted to go to the Wechiau hippo sanctuary.So on the 3rd January we left Wa and boarded the most rickety truck with a cage on the back and bumped along in the dust to the small town in the middle of nowhere on the Burkina border to Wechiau. I rode on the tro tro's roof all the way, hanging on for dear life. Even though the road was very bumpy the driver still decided to floor it and whizz along at a trendous speed. By the time we got there I was looking very dusty and windswept. One of the people in the back shouted up to me 'Your crazy ElSana, But I like you\! El Sana is the northern word for White person, no more bloody Obroni chants up here. All the kids sing this song at us all the time as we walk along. But I find that the northern people of Ghana are very nice. Much nicer in fact than those down where I teach. When we got to Wechiau we had to get on the back of another truck to travel the last 18km's to the accomodation which were the most enchanting traditional mud and stick buildings that I had ever seen. We were so remote that at night as I slept curled up on the roof you could gaze at the most baeutiful stars in the nights sky and the moon here looks like the Cheshire Cat's smile! Our accommodation was so rustic and rural that I fell in love with the place and really didnt want to leave. I walk in the dusty savannah and found all sorts of bizarre bush carvings by tribes men and some of the nearby houses were so truly authentic and really tribal that I eneded up just walking into one and making friends with the inhabitants. None of which spoke any English at all and only speak this bizarre reagional dialect that is so hard to fathom out. That day we all walked to the black Volta and borded canoes and paddled down the river in Burkina territory. The river was beautiful as parrots swept over our heads and the chorus of birds was music to my ears. We even got out of the canoes to stand on these large jutting up rocks and as we paddled along we could hear fishermen and women singing their enchanting songs that enchoed down the river. Then we say hippos! Not just one but 5 of the massive water wallowing beats. They are bloody huge and nay like horses. Boy can they fart also, what a noise. If I could fart with that velocity I would be able to fly! The canoe we were in was slowly filling up with water and I had to keep bailing it out. It was a strange sight seeing us for the local fishermen as we all had face paint on. You see two of the girls I am travelling are proper hippies and just love to paint me at any given opportunity. So many singing fishermen gave us a strange double take when we paddled past. That night I slept on the roof ofour accommodation which was fantastic as the stars were out and the rooms were now warmed to the temperature of a furnace by the days heat. I did however wake up absolutely freezing and had to put on every single item of clothing that I have with me to alievate the cold. The next morning we all left the hippo sanctuary and headed back to Wa. This time the only vehicle going back to the regional capital was this old rustbucket that once again I had to ride outside clutching on for dearlife standing barefooted on the rear bumper and holding on to the end of the roof rack. The reason I couldnt go on the roof was that a calf, a whole live one was taking up most of the space and mooing away to herself!! By the time we got back to Wa I was like a dust monster and if I slapped my head showers of dust came off into the air. From Wa we wanted to go to Bolgatanga the capital of the upper Eastern region but the tro tro's only went via a place called Tumu. So we spent one night in Tumu and then had to catch a 4am tro tro all the way to Bolga as it is called locally. 4am came and we all huddled around a fire with some tramps in the tro tro station fopr warmth. The tramps seemed to like me as I collected some rood out of a ditch and got the fire roaring. 8 hours of bumpy travelling later we rolled into Bolgatanga. So what has Bolga got to offer I hear you cry. Well not a lot really. But we wentto manynplaces from there. Bolga is the sort of place that you stay the night at and then do day trips from. We did however go to the national cultural museum in Bolga, but I took one look at it and decided against paying the extorsiante entrance fee. Some people did however pay to go in and did the entire museum in 5 minutes. It really was that rubbish. I on the meantime sat on some rocks and watched all the goats and pigs fight over scraps in the street. The great thing about Bolga is that animals roam free everywhere. Many time I had tio move out of the way for a bullock to pass by or a rampaging goat to cross the road. Animals were absolutely everywhere, then were even in peoples houses and shacks. We stayed in Bolga for 3 nights. Two of which at this really nice guesthouse where the owners thought we were the best thing since sliced bread. But we couldnt stay there for a thrid night as they had a prior booking. We had to stay at the Catholic guesthouse. Which had many rules and regulations and was very strict. But the toilet had a sign inside saying 'please flash the toilet'. So I did!! It was about this time that I realised that all my boxers had gone missing. Where do these things go to I wonder. This brings me up to the 6th Jnuary and one of my most memorable days in Africa. Because we all went to the border town of Paga and I went accross the border into Burkina Faso without a passport or any formal identification at all. I just said to the border guards on the Ghana side that I was 'going then I come' and the French speaking Burkina boredr guards I tole that the Ghanaians had my passport so they let me pass through. Wheere else in the world can youi lie to get into another country. Burkina looked the same but everything was French. Luckily the German girl travelling with us is a dab hand at the old lingo so we managed to procure a Burkinan beer using Ghanaian currency rather than the west African Francs and also as as souvenir the 3 of us who crossed the border as the other wimped out and thought we would be arrested and put in a detention camp or something we bought little magical teapots that you can heat in the sun. Wow sun tea! It tastes rather good. We explored Burkina and even decided that we could try and get to the capital city. Ougadougrou, but alas it was over 240 km's away and that sort of quashed that ides. All we could do was explore the border village of Dakola and pose by the Burkina Faso sign to prove that we have been there. Then it was time to return to Ghana. But before I did I jumped accross the border a few times to say I have been to Burkina more than once. I am so glad that I have managed to get accross an international border in Africa and whats more with out any ID at all whatsoever. I even spoke some pigin French when I ordered by beer. Paga has there sacred crocodiles that you can touch. I held this huge beats tail, but after I felf bad as it really is degrading to the animal to see it treated like this. Then they fed the massive lump of meat this live chicken and it moved at a lightning pace to chomp it down. The sacred crocs all look dejected and I felt so sorry for them. I belive thet even though local legend protects them that the only reason they are there is to attract visitors there for a photo opportunity. Paga also is the home of a village called Nania. How cool is that so not only did I go to Burkina Faso that day but I went to Nania aswell. At nania is a rather sober placed called the Pikworo slave camp which has pounishment roskc and also bowls carved into the rock faces so that the slaves could eat there before they were transported off down to Elmina over 900kms away on foot to be shipped to the America's. The whole time I was there I felt very humble. We also went to this place from Bolga called Sirigu. Sirigu is the home to this traditional art work that adornes buildings and looks spectacular. There is an eco project that preserves this ancient art and teaches it to local women so that it does not die out. The place was fantastic and we went into these traditional homesteads and chatted to the owners who were all colourful people. The local people here have a spiders web facial scarring pattern. Many people in Ghana have tribal facial scarring but these people have the most intricate and also they have scarring around their navals too. Many muslim women up here have facial tattoos and I have a few picture s with them. In one photo I am posing with face paint on with a moustache (for I fancied shaving off the rest and keeping the debonair David Niven Clark Gablesque tashe) with this man with a huge head dress on. I really enjoyed sirigu anfd this local woman who ran the eco project taught me all aboput the meanings of the paintings and what they symbolise. Yesterday we all went to the fantastically named town of Bongo. Bongo is this enchanting little village in the middle of nowhere and getting there was one hard task believe me. But at Bongo there are the most amaizing rock formations and the musical drum rocks that make resonationg sounds if you hit them. The whole place seemed magical and spellbound as small children sat in alcoves in the rocks singing songs which echoed in the valley and played the drum rocks. We climbed up on top of all the ones that I could and also climbed all the massive trees. I was just like a little kid again. Today I feel very windswept and weather beaten as I was near naked all the time and feel really tingly. I sat in Bongo waching the world go by and I love the small things that the locals take for granted but make me smile. The fact that goats are strapped to peoples bicycles as they cycle along and the car roofs that are piled sky high with every concievable things immaginable. The delightful facial scarring of the tribes around and the local kids running up to touch me. The random crazies who are everywhere. A random man came up to me and did a forward roll and stodd up saluted me before he buggered off. The crazy men who try and grab you as you walk. The women as big as a house who sit on the back of a donkey pulled cart while the poor beast wheezez trying to propell her weight along. ASfrica has all these little traits that I love. The only bad thing about all this traveling mularky is that you lose compleately the time and the date and have no idea when you have to be back at school to teach. Well I am now back in Tamale and our intreped group splits up today as people are all going off on their seperate directions. I am off down to a placed called Techiman to see yet more monkeys and then I am off to this hand in hand project place to do some volunteer cooking for the mentally handicapped people there. Then lake bosuntwi the other side of Kumasi before going back to good old Kwanyaku to teach again. But it will not be the same teaching again with out poor olf Kofi who so sadly died just as we were leaving to stsrt our grand travels. I will miss his bombastic ways and his expeditions with me to the spots to drink waist and power. Well all the way from Africa I bid you a sweet goodbye til we all meet again. I will write agin soon. But for now its goodnight from him.
Take care all
Peace
Ben
x x x x

Ben's African Adventures 13

Happy New Year to all you gorgeous people back home or in other wondrous places in the world.

29th December

I am starting to write this email from the dusty city of Tamale in the Northern Region of Ghana. A vastly populated muslim area with mosques jutting up and looming over us ominously on the horizon. Tamele is the Amsterdam of Ghana, no it hasnt got a drugs problem but there are bicyles everywhere and I have almost been knocked over on several occassions. So what has heppened to dear old travelling sensation Bengy I hear you cry, well faer not by regular readers for this adventure treatens to be the best yet. We assembled in Swedru on the morning of the 27th and caught a 'West Ham unioted fanclub' tro tro all the way to Kumasi the capital of the Ashanti region. We arrived after 6 hours of travelling and by backside was numb beyond belief. The tro tro dropped us off in the center of town, but this was also the centre of the biggest market in West Africa. The Majetia market. It was bloody massive and thats an understatement. The stalls spewed out of the market and lined the entire city. We had to physically bundle our way through the hustling and surging crowd. Many times I had to reach bak and physically pull Henrik the kinky swede out of the melee. So there we were in Kumasi and we would be staying one night there in some slum of a guesthouse. This was the point where we were to meet the others for our great Northern travelling experience. So at the moment there is 4 Brits (2 male 2 female), one kinky Swede, 1 German girl and a Dutch girl. So after spending one very gin fuelled night in Kumasi we did the marathon trek up North to Tamale where we are now. The journey took 8 hours in a bus, yes our first bus not a poxy tro tro. It was real luxury and even had a video player where they played an old tape of wrestling and all the Ghanaians cheered eveytime something happened or someone got body slammed. Very surreal to say the least. 1st January 2006 The New Year is upon us and boy did I have a great ride into 2006. I spent New Years in Mole national park up in the northern nether regions of Ghana. But to top it off I saw elephants, yes real wild bloody massive elephnats. I got so close before the man with the gun told me to get back at it started to rear up and was about to attack. So lets start from the beginning shall we............. From Tamale we travelled up north to a place cladde Larabanga. A fantastically sounding town which was 100% muslim. We travelled into the deepest depths of the Guinea Savannah and past the most amaiszing all mud hut villages as we rattled along the road all crammed into a bus that should be taken off the road for safety reasons. We arrived at Larabanga which is in the middle of nowhere and not many people visit it. But we arrived and found a place to stay. On a roof! Yep, we slept on the roof of a building over looking the beautiful brown earth dust covered horizon. After all this heat in Ghana I am really liking the fact that we are far up in the desert near the Burkina Faso border and it gets really cold at night. Its fantastic! i have been sweating my pants off for months and up here it is still very very, very hot, but far less humid so you do not sweat the buckets that you usually do down south in the central region. Larabanga was beautiful and I explored everywhere. I was woken up at 4am freezing on my rooftop perch. The muslim call to prayer was blasting out from the mosque which has been dated back to 1421, which makes it the oldest building in Ghana by 50 years. Even older than the impressive Portugeses built Elmina Castle down near us. The mosque was beautiful and I walked around it gazing in awe as little children ran up to me and held my hands and made me put them on my shoulders and throw them around as they giggled and attracted almostthe entire bloody town over. I walked the kilometer distance over to the Scared 'Mystic stone' which lies on the towns outskirts. As legend has it a warrior once chucked his spear from that point and where it landed the mosque was built magically overnight. All I could think about that this bloke who lobbed the spear must have a bloody strong arm to chuck it all that way!!! But mystic it was and I met some truly delightfully dressed men there in boubous (hats) and full religious attire who posed for a phot with me. So then from Laranbanga we decided to walk the 6kilometers to the gate of Mole national park. So off we trudged in the dust and when we arrived passing the no poaching signs we were covered in a fine layer of red dust. Mole national park was the single most excitng thing I have done while I have been in Africa. As soon as we had managed to get a dowm room in the Moile motel we went to the pool needing to plunge in and clense myself from 3 days of not washing. We couldnt wash as we had been travelling, sleeping in buses and on a rooftop. But as soon as I reached the pool I had to change my persona from mear old Ben to Captian Bengy to the recue. For it was the time of the 'Baboon attack'. Yes ladies and gentlemen the great big bright red arsed baboons came craching into the pool area trying to steal anything from anyone. There fangs are bloody huge and as I stood there talking to some German girls that I knew this particularly large baboon with a massive arse which he must have been buffing up at home for the occasion charged at me fangs out and looking like he meant business. So what did I do I hear you cry? Well I saved the day of course. The girls were screaming, the kitchin staff had scarpered and this baboon was tearing down on us and looked like he wanted to make me his bitch. So I jumped into action and grabbed the nearest thing that resembled a weapon. This happened to be a pole on the floor and I jumped infront of the charging baboon shouting 'f**k off' very loudly at it. This still didnt stop the creature who tried to grad the bloody pole off me. So I swang the pole violently and chased it away. I was clapped and hailed as a hero by all the people at the poolside. I puffed my chest out and paraded around. The baboons scarpered and regrouped for another attack at another time. They bloody did aswell, the baboons came in greater numbers and first sat in a tree looking at us and then suddenly without warning the buggers rushed at us. So up jumped captain Bengy accompanied by his new sidekicks of Henny (Hentik) the Swede and a German bloke with a skinhead called John. I had the pole and smacked the nearest one on its bonce while the other two chucked anything that they could grad at them. They lobbed stones, sticks, small children and even plants at these baboons who just would not stop their advance. Then a geezer dressed head to toe in khaki looking like Ray mears love child appeared with a gun and they saw his death stare and ran for the hills. Later on the baboons would get in our room and stole Andy's mosquito net. I gave chase as one with a gammy leg had also stolen a can of my corned beef and I pelted after them trowing stones all the time. The one with the mossie net got away But I stunned the other one with a well aimed stone to the head and recaptured the corned beef! I'm such a hero!!!! So baboons with big red arses aside we saw all kinds of wildlife. I went on an afternoon bush walk with a guide and one at 4am where we saw a pack of 5 elephants demolishing some trees and then wallow into the water. Our guide liked me as I had picked up and feather and put it in my bandana, so every bloody feather he saw he stooped down picked it up and gave it to your humble narrator here. I have a whole bag full now! The walks were fantastoic and I saw afpart from the awesome and magestic elephants: gazelle, bush buck, wart hogs, water buck, birds of all descriptions and colours, crocodiles who gluide like logs in the murky water and also smaller little cheeky monkeys. We walked to this ranger station about 2 hours awy in the savannah. When we got there the ranger was stark bollock naked outside saoping himself up. He saw us covered his manhood wwith one hand and waved with the other, I love Africa!! We even interupted an elephants sex session and Henrik and I broke the no talking rule wile near the elephnats by pointing at its willy and giggling like school girls! We are silly. Our guide said he had never in all his 27 years as a ranger seen two more silly people as we posed for pictures in the massive footprints created by the elphants holding elephants poo in our hands. We are strange. As we walked deeper I could feel something keep hitting me from behind I turned round expecting to see another baboon with his knob out but it was Henrik throwing antelope poo at me!!! The highlight for me was watching the elephants all walk one by one into the muddy waters and bathe themselves. But we also went on a jeep safari and one elphants charged the car so we had to hold one in the back while the driver pelted away hell for leather to get away from this over friendly mass of meat. The jeep safari was so coo. A massive group of us from all over Ghana (all volunteers and travellers) bundled in the back and we raced accross the dusty savannah in search of animals galore. We saw everything that we had already seen on our walks but went much deeper into the park and saw them in their surprised state when we rocked up. Bucks just turn their heads and look at your before deciding that we are mean and then leap into the air and away doing this little dance routine. Eagles soared in the sky and the sunset was beautiful beyond any waords that I could ever type. The baboons deeper in are territorial and tried to attacl the car as we rattled along and got covered in dust. At this point I had to pinch myself and realised that it was New Years eve! So then New Years eve in Africa. We didnt have any music as the noise would scare the animals, but some knob set off bloody fire works at the strike of 12. We all sat around the pool and I darnk myself sober on gin. We were leaving the next day (today) at 4am on the only bus running for a week to get back to Tamale, so we didnt bother to go to sleep at all. There was a massive group of us, all gathered around by the pool. All nationalities it was like the league of nations. As we all got ready for the countdown some random South African joined us with a bottled of champagne and we sprayed it all over as we shouted Happy new year before the dick head with the fire works gave an elephnat a heart attack. I loved it and had the best time. We all chatted, exchanged email addresses and to top it all off a German girl came up to me and said that I was her hero for drinking all the gin!!! She was so proud of me as I poured the stuff down my neck and to cap it all I am fine today. No hangover at all. But I reckon that is because I past out on the 4am bus to Tamale and when I got there I ate dirty mystery meat from a street vendor. I tried to ask him what meat it was as he cooked it on a big spit over an oil drum converted into a bbq. But his reply was 'it's halal', so it could be someones gran for all I know!!! So now after baboon attacks, warthogs sniffing around the toilet pit. The ice cold swimming pool that bleached your hair and the Japanese tourist who jumped into the pool at the turn of the year we are back on the road travelling again. Oh this old Japanese man who we called the Dalai Llama was standing next to a table that a boboon tried to steal food from. He didnt move, his face stayed the same but his eyes gave this death stare to the baboon that sensed his power and ran away with its tail between his legs. I told this story to the American medical students who were there and they thought it was great so everytime he came to the pool they worshipped him and also tried to 'camp him up'. Seriously they walked over engaged him in conversation and then would provocatively start to stroke him, it was bloody hilarious. But he took it in a nice way and even bought us some beers. Then in true Japanese style we all jumped into the pool fully clothed and my jeans are out in the scorching sun drying as I type. We rattled back into Tamale and went to the tro tro station to arrange a bus to a place called 'Wa'. But the next bus leaves at 4amt tomorrow so we are staying at the Al Hassan guesthouse which is a flea ridden dump. Ze Germans have gone up to Bolgatanga near the border and we will joint them in a few days and the Yanks are staying in Mole. Henrik the kinky Swede has left us to do the marathon trek back to Accra as he flies home on the 4th and as we waved him off in a bus some geezer had a huge go at him for jumping over a bench!!! The numbers are depleating as this origionally wasjust a trip for new years but now it is turning into a grande travelling sensational journey. We are going to do all of the northern region before going down to Brong Afaro and then the Ashanti. So Wa is tomorrow and there is a hippo sanctuary there. Then off to Bolgatanga and then Pagan to see the scared crocodiles before heading down to Kumasi incorporating Techiman and another monkey sactuary and then a placed called Akronza which is a home for the mentally disabled. We will stay there and work for our keep which many volunteers do and it has been highly recommended to us. It is also the place to buy things as you know the money is going to a good cause rather than some dirty bloke who pretends to be a ganster! The only problem that I have encountered so far with all this traveling mularky is that my clothes are ruined and falling apart. Never fear I bought a load of vests from a stall in the bustling Tamale market and wear one for a day then give it to a street kid. They cost something like 7pence each . But they are white and white attracks dirt! I am absolutely loving it outhere and wont want to come back when my time is out. The people I see the places I go it all rocks. I have bought a muslim head scarf and was wearing it to fight off the bitter night cold and my arms are adorned with bands and braids etc. People say I look like a hippy out here. Hair longer, bandana, beard, bands and general dishelvelled apprarance. But I love it. The people we met at Mole made my new years. Everyone got on no matter what. Mole has a hotel and also cheap scabby dorm rooms for us packpackers. We couldnt afford to eat and drink at mole so we brought everything with us. Cans of food. Stale bread and lots of booze. We filtered tap water ourselves using a pump and drank that and we could sit by the rich knobs on new years having a much better time eating none of their expensicve food. Although when a party of Germans moved we stole there left over steaks on a platter and also a half full bottle of wine that they discarded. So there we were bums, travellers, volunteers and bizarre Americans medical students who study in Accra all sitting next to rich familes and a coash laod of Japanses people. We had the better time and they could all see us bonding and laughing, so much so that many joined us and joined in on our drinking games which I was coordinating in my drunken manner. It is so hard to explain rules of British drinking games to Germans, but hey I managed it. There was this big man who we called captain courageous with his Ghanaian wife who was half his age who joined us and shouted us all beers. He had some massive 4x4 merc or something like that and was loaded but loved us as we were all getting along, no matter what race, colour, religoin or nationality. It rocked. We were the only ones left up and went around the empty tables and poured all the left over wine into a mucky pint pot and old courageous bloody drank it. We havnt seen him since. All the posho's buggered off just after 12 and we stayed up chearing the acrobatic japanese who were no perfoming for us as we cheered them everytime one of their arial summersaults landed them inthe icy water. But soon people dropped like flies and went to catch an hours kip before the bus rolled up. When the bus did roll up it was like a mass exodus of Obroni volunteers. The posh lot all looked at us in disbelief as were were actually using public transport!!! But we love it and we rattled all the way to dusty Tamale. There was even a Ghanaian fight on the bus over a seat. But I dropped off into a drunken sleep and when I woke their was a child playing with my hair! This concludes my massive email to all you lover at home. I hope you have enjoyed this as much as I have enjoyed reliving it all in my head. Happy new year to you all and dont break those resolutions. My new years reolution is not to cut my hair at all in 2006!!! Rock on 2006, roll on the frican nations cup and lets go and see all that Ghana has to offer. I am even going to try and jump accross the border to Burkina Faso, but my passport is back in Accra in the volunteers safe locked away. Who knows? I will leave you with some swedish words that Henny told me 'Smek mig'. It means touch me. Take care all.

All my love and African tickles Peace Ben x x x x

Ben's African Adventure 12

22nd December 2005

I opened my eyes this morning and thought I must have still been asleep. But I was wrong. My bizarre host family were playing gospel music at 100 decibels at 4.30 am. But its just another day in Ghana. You know what thats means? It's that time again to polish your reading glasses, pull up a pew and stop dreaming of what Santa is going to bring you. It is Ben's African Adventures time........... Ok so lets begin as you are all sitting down and comfy in your nice xmas slippers. I decided I needed to escape rom marking 90+ exam papers and the fact that most of them were below 30% and a fail really depressed me. I had puit so much effort and all I had into teaching these kids and to see them fail like that is a real dissapointment. So I escaped to Swedru our local town. As soon as I got off the tro tro I heard 'Mr. Ben' being shouted at me. I looked over and it was: Vincent the argiculture teacher, Ofori the sports undermaster and the other teacher who played the organ (very badly) at the carol service that I had to attend and was made to sit at the head table with the priests and local dignitaries. So I trotted over to them and before I knew it I was in a bar doing shots of Alumo bitters such as waist and power and Kasapreko gin with them. Rock on! I finished the marking of all the exams and had to add the scores from their classwork to get a total and then enter the scores onto the report cards. It made dismal reading. Ou of 90+ kids only one got an A. But many you could see really tried. Some didnt even bother and some kids I had never heard of before. These are the kids who dont turn up to ny lesson but try to scrape the exam and really annoy me. The teachers t school really like me and the headmaster bought me an African shirt for xmas from all at the school. Its lovely if you like that sort of thing. It is so nice infact that it is almost ten times too big for me and looks like a bloody tent and is made out of the most corse fabric that if I wore it I would have constant nipple rash. But the thought was lovely and I really appreciate it. The teachers like the fact that no matter what they give to me food and drink wise I will try it. Even if it looks like arse and tasts like arse. They really like that and call me 'strong' because I will drink all that they put in front of me. Even the bizarre local beverages whih look like vomit. I have tried them all. They made me do the entire line of bottles in this bar. Well I call it a bar. It was a dingy back alley room with a table with bottle son it and a woman passed out on the floor with her breats out! Yep there is always a woamn with her mammories out, everywhere you go. On bus, in a church, they wop them out. Normally it is for a young child to suckle on as many Ghanian women are employed as wet nurses, but sometimes I think they just fall out as they are so saggy and they dont realise it. Especially if they are in a drunken stupor lying on the floor. So anyway there I was doing all these shots ans my head was buzzing. Some of the stuff is so herbal that I had the most amaizing wind for 3 days running. But they loved it when I downed some brown, mud like stuff which name escapes my memory. Ihave had to invigilate many exams and it it the single most annoying task ever. I was the only teacher invigilating the exam ion a field and bloody hell do the kids cheat. I even had to chase goats away. I just gopt them all quiet and shouted that they could turn their papers over in an authorative tone when another teacherappeared,, lets just call her the pregnant one. Well she disrupted the entire exam, got them all talking then had a moan at me because they weretalking and wanted to cut the exam short by 40 minutes so she could go home. Bloody hell how ignorant can one person be. I was there for the whole exam and stalked the rows of desks like a drill sargeant. I didnt wnt to kick anyone out and ruin their marks, but I shiouted and braked at anyone who even so looked like cheating. but I know as soon as I turned my back they all looked at each others papers. I was running low on money and so decided that I needed a trip to the bank. Akim Oda was the nearest place with a barclays Ghana bank. So I caught a tro tro past the tallest tree in Afrixc with its really informative sign "The Big Tree" and an arrow pointing down a dirt track. Something to do in January I thought to myself. But bugger I got to Oda and the bank had no cash point. So Henrik and I had to go to Accra again and use the bank. That is where I am emailing from. Henrik and I on a day trip to the city. I hate Accra it is too big, American, dirty and full of crooks! We spent a whole 10 minutes in Oda as there was nothing in the town and looked exactly like Oda. Besides we had to be back at the school for the end of year assembly before all the kids break up for the festive period. I was mobbed by them all hugging me and a profeshional photographer was there and I am in loads of pictures with teachers in their special African long flowing germents. Coincidently they want me to get one of those made, or rather I think they will get one for me made as a leaving present as they keep asking what size I am. But then again I was measured by a seamstress when my host family wanted to make me a shirt for the Queen mother of Nyakrom's inaugeration and the shirt was bloody huge on me and orange! So I am not hopeful of anything fitting me at all. While we went to Oda the tro tro in which we travelled was the best tro tro in the world. Firstly it was full of chickens and when I sat down I spooked them. Resulting in feathers everywhere and mayhem. Then the dorr fell off. I kid you not the actually slide door clanged down on the floor as we sat engine running loading the back. Then the large water drums that they loaded on the back and secured with twine came loose and spilled onto the road making the following tro tro swerve and almost caused a near miss! What a ride! I still am called Obroni everywhere I go, but not so much in my home host viollage of Kwnyaku. They call me 'Obroni Koto'. It means whiteman who is now red! Yep a result to my suntan. Although to take my shirt off in public is regarded with dismay and I get shouted at. But if I do it in Nana's garden then no one blinks an eye lid. So I spend many hours reading topless in the garden and playing with the puppies who are now at the optimum cute age. They even answer when I call them. I have named the boy trouble, but he is a bit wimpy and the outgoing mad little girl is called strife. They are great. i sometimes speak to them more that my host family.As no matter what I try and tell them in basic English and pigin Twi/ Fante they havnt a clue as to what I am going on about. Oh today is Nana Ampin Darko VI's 67th birthday! Doris our host sister came up to me this morning and asked me 'Ben what is pissing'! Apparabntly in my sleep she got up to poo or somehting and heard me talking in my sleep saying something like 'stop pissing on my floor'! It is odd but ever since I have been on malaria tablets I have had the strangest dreams and have talked in my sleep. When I had the 4 in the bed German experience I was apparantly saying close the door over and over again! I must be going mad!!!!!!! The malaria drugs do send you a bit loopy. But even more so if you are on Larium. Poor old Henrik is on that and he had a horrible run in with the dreaded malaria. It wasnt nice to see! I have now discovered a place where you can buy a large sachet of gin for the equivilent of 6p. I have bought loads of them and now have a proper store for New Years when we go up north and celebrate in style in a national park.

26th December 2006

Boxing Day in Africa Boxing day in the sun eh. This is the life. I spent xmas evev by a swimmim pool at the Greenland hotel as the volunteers met up and had our unnoficial xmas doo. We thought wouldnt it be nice to have a day of relaxation before the storm of Christmas day errupts in our faces. How rong were we. The entire pool soon became full of kids, bloody loads of them. All swimming around in pants that kept falling off. Very off putting if you are trying to have a bit of escapism! Christmas eve morning I had some very sad news. Well I was told in a true Ghanaian we dont give a shit matter of fact way. Sister Bea came up to me and said 'The man you do sports and eat fufu with is dead'. She is such a bitch, I wanted to slap her dwarfish face there and then. It is with great sadness that I report to you that Kofi the deputy headmaster and sports master died in his sleep of heart complications brought on by too much alcohol and not enough rest. I was shocked and couldnt believe it. Only a few days before I had posed for a photo at the Kwanyako school carol service as he was wearing his long traditional robes. Now he is gone. The Ghanaians treat death very differently from us aas I have found out much to my annoyance and it sickens me the way that they told me. Poor old Kofi, his real name is Peter Kofi Adu Essah. I will always remember him for the strange, bombastic but throughly likeable and nice man that he was. He was very strange, for example squatting and having a dump in front of me but he was such a nice man and invited me for a meal to his house and always gave me some bizarre spirit to drink. It saddens me to think I will never hear his voice berate a starled student ever again. Rest in peace Kofi, pleasent dreams. Christmas eve in Kwanyaku was more of a celebration than xmas day. There was a massive competition between the liberian refugee camp town of Kasos. Kwanyaku beat them for the second consecutive year running at volleyball. Frank our host brother was their inspirational captain and was lunging himself around the court getting very dusty and leading by example. It is a matter of pride to beat the much larger town near Accra of Kasoa. Christmas day was very strange. Firstly I had to dress smart, so flares and cowboy shirt I went with the family to bloody church. More poxy preaching and I tried to fall asleep,but just as I was getting drwosy we had to all get up and dance. Eventually we retuerned back to the house and slobbed around in the blistering heat and scorching beams of the sun playing with the puppies and being harassed by three young children who have taken a liking to me. No turkey for us, we had chicken, rice and ome bizarre cabbage stew, it was al very nice. Then we washed it down with a bottle of cheap plonk and some apetishi and guinness that Doris has rustled up from under tone of the folds of her stomach probably. We gave every member of the house a christmas present. We went out shopping and bought them all something small. Nana got an English country gardens calendar and a bottle of schnapps and his face lit up when I gave thme to him. We bought the kids small toys that were soft so they couldnt destroy them after 5 minutes and also we bought Mr.s Nana a picture frame. All stuff like that, mostly tat really. I tried to play pass the parcel with the kids, but it was all too much for them to fathom so I thought wouldnt it be funny to let them just get confused by all the wrapping paper. It did throughly perplex them! Today I went to Winneba beach. Sir Charles beach and watched as the fishermenin their wooden boats bobbed on the waves and reeled in their gigantic catch of snapper. They all stand on the beach and pull in the giant nets. It takes about 3 hours to real in one whole net and is a sight to behold. They all sing while they do it and the movement when they pull is almost as if they are dancing. It is hypnotic to watch them all moving in syncronisation in this ritual dance. Winnneba is full of the scariest clowns I have ever seenin my life today. They are roaming the streets and terrifying small children and adults alike. They look eveil and menacing. It is a Ghanaian tradition that on this day people entertain one another. Or thats what some random in the tro tro back to Swedru told me. But seeing people all dressd up in this heat makes me think that probably they are a nomadic group of crazies who rampage accross the country!!! Tomorrow I am off travelling with a few other volunteers. We are meeting in Swedru and heading to Kumasi. One night there and then on to Tamale 12 hours away and then on to Larabanga before ending up in Mole national park and looking at elepahnts for New Years. I cannot wait. I am so excited that I know I wont sleep tonight. Not that I can sleep anyway, my malaria drugs keep me up almost all night and when I do sleep the dreams I get are very surreal and strange. We will be gone for 2 weeks and after New Years we are meeting up with yet more people who we know out here and exploring all the places along the Burkina Faso border. I want to hurdle the border and then jump back to say that I have been there! We are meeting up with some lasses tomorrow in Kumasi and then meeting 'Ze Germans' (the nice Germans who talk to you) in Tamale. So it will be one huge mass of nationalities and a great New Years party. Rock on!!! Well I have got to go now. I told Mrs. Nana that I would be home for dinner and if I am late she will probably feed it to one of the fat kids. Take care all and Have a bloody marvelous New Years See you all in 2006
Peace and Love ben x x x x x