If Tamale is the pimple, than the road from Kumasi to Cape Coast is the smile that makes you forget there ever was a blemish. Almost forget. Because just like a pimple causes some mild discomfort, my heart was feeling some pain as I began to miss my host family. Mild I said? More like the type that makes you sob yourself to sleep.
Anyway as I rode the bumpy Metro Mas bus to Cape Coast I was suddenly made speechless (and that is saying something) by the majestic beauty surrounding us. Hills full of lush green foliage, layers of trees with skinny ones bursting past the canopy and up towards the sky. The cool air whipped my hair back as I leaned out the window. My heart felt like bursting with joy at the beauty, but my trip was bittersweet. This glorious wilderness reminded me I am headed towards my penultimate location. It is time to say Goodbye to the Country that has fed me, clothed me, welcomed me in (complete with many “salamingas” and “obrunis”) and taught me so much about myself and life.
I can barely begin to describe all I have learned in my stay, probably because so much has yet to present itself. Though excited, I will admit to being slightly anxious to return to Canada. I feel as though my time here flew by, yet I feel that I have lived here forever. As I sit here writing, I wonder how can one condense a country into a blog? I will never pretend to know Ghana. In the few months I have been here I have seen so much, yet I can’t even begin to comprehend the complexities of life here. How is it that an old toothless lady in the back of a taxi can care about me, a stranger, enough to offer to teach me Dagbani and feed me local food? How is it that a father will care enough about my experience and safety that he will tell his kids to leave their work and spend the afternoon showing me around? The hospitality of this country blows my mind.
So do the salesmen….
On this Metro Mas we picked up a preacher on the road who jumped on and eagerly launched into an eloquent, angry, and loud sermon. At least, I thought it was a sermon (it was all in Twi) until he pulled out cough syrup, laxatives, and Alka-Seltzer. Then began the most brilliant salesmanship I have ever witnessed. With no Nigerian movies to amuse the 61 passengers, this was a grand show. He was forceful, he was convincing, and he threw in enough English for me to understand that in 2 hours these laxatives had cured a lady from 3 months of constipation. Needless to say, he sold about 30 packages. We reached the next town and dropped off the salesman, his bag significantly lighter and his pockets bulging with Cedi. This man is my new hero.