DAY65-68

DAYS 65–66. At sea

Now we have truly entered the “danger area” where there is a fear of piracy. There are at least two new, very athletic and quiet men aboard, carrying walkie-talkies.

Day 67, Monday, March 22. Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire.

After two days at sea, skirting Guinea, Sierra Leone and Liberia, we came upon Abidjan. Despite all the big banks, etc., having their headquarters here, or perhaps because of that, the security was incredibly tight. There was a squad armed with assault weapons right where we were let off the ship. We were told not to take taxis, etc., etc. 

None of the ship’s excursions appealed to us so we just took the shuttle to the Plateau, an area that looked much like downtown of some European city, with the same kind of stores. Still we were warned not to go walking about on our own. 

We decided to simply stay on the shuttle and ride back to the ship. That evening Mary talked with other passengers who had taken the opportunity to walk around the shops of the Plateau, and what they told her confirmed our decision.

Most of the shuttle passengers, though, wanted to see certain sights: the museum, the French Institute, and so on. So while the shuttle stopped, the guide, who was simply excellent, went with each group and helped them hire a taxi, after snapping a picture of the driver and his credentials, making sure of their itineraries, and presumably of the fares. What service! What careful support! We talked with her on the way back. She’s a medical student. A year more of study and she’ll be ready for her Residency.

This took some time at the Plateau, which gave Mary and me to take a lot of pictures of the locals, and I had fun that evening drawing pictures of them.

DAY 68, Thursday March 23. Sekondi-Takoradi, Ghana

We docked at the Takoradi commercial port, where they had an earth-mover pushing a special street-cleaning gizmo to brush the mud away. From the port we took a shuttle to the middle of town, where they have a taxi station for certified taxis. You go to the dispatcher and tell him where you want to go. He calls up a driver—our driver’s “handle” was CC—and records the time, snaps a photo of his license. The fee is $15/hour, payable in cash. We met up with another couple and agreed to split the tab, and on our itinerary: see St. George’s Castle, also known as Elmina Castle, a holding facility for the slave trade, and to see the fishing pier. The total trip took a little over four hours, $60, and each of us gave him a $10 tip. Certainly a bargain, compared to what the cruise charged.

The roads were just awful, with big potholes, big unpaved chunks. Every little hamlet along the way had at least two over-engineered speed bumps. It was slow going, and every so often we were stopped by police, a couple of which demanded a bribe to let us travel on.

We could not turn down the road to get close to the fishing pier, but got a couple of photos from on top of a neighboring hill. Luckily on our way back from Elmina we were able to jump out of the cab to snap a similar fishing pier that was crowded with their unique boats. When I get a chance, I will do a watercolor of them.

All along the way we saw women, and one guy, carrying loads on their head. Some of it was for transporting things, e.g., laundry; much of it was goods for sale. I saw a tiny woman threading through the traffic of Takoradi with a bowl on her head piled with shoes to almost half her height. A woman on the sidewalk beckoned her over and bought a pair.

Seeing St. George’s Castle and hearing the guides describe how the slaves were treated filled us with dread, horror, pity, shame, and anger. I feel despair for our species.

Oh, on the way back we also saw a beautiful cathedral.

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Back in Takoradi I took a little walk and came upon a group of schoolboys, who seeing this big tall white guy, waved and said Hi. One asked me my name. His, Jason. I had the presence of mind to say “Good, strong name!” But later I kicked myself for my slow wits. I would have loved to say “How old are you, Jason? You know when I was about your age a man came to my school in the US and told us about this new country Ghana, and I thought ‘I would like to see this country,’ and I feel lucky to be able to do that!” It’s the one thing I regret I didn’t do while there.