Boti and Beads

This past Tuesday was Eid ul-Fitr, a holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan. Although Ghana is predominantly Christian, there are quite a few Muslims. So many, in fact, that Tuesday was a national holiday. Which meant no class. Which, for me meant traveling, since I don’t have any classes on Wednesdays either.

I got together with a few friends and we decided to attempt an abbreviated version of the trip from a few weekends ago, Boti Falls and the bead market, with the possibility of going to Shia Hills Nature Reserve.

Boti Falls is near Kofiridua, the town (city?) that BASCO is near, so I felt confident getting us there. The journey was quick for the most part, but traveling by trotro is usually cramped, hot, and bumpy, and this was no exception. At one point, we had been stuck in traffic for a while and had finally started to emerge from it when our driver suddenly pulled over to the side of the road. I watched him jump from the van and run back to help push the vehicle that had been the source of the holdup. I was simultaneously amazed that he saw it as his duty to assist another driver, and annoyed that we were still not moving towards our destination.

The drive was beautiful: just an hour or so north of here the landscape becomes hilly and mountainous. My friend Harmony was trying to figure out what it is that makes the mountains and hills here different from mountains in the US and decided that these were greener. I’m not sure if that’s quite all of it, but I don’t have another answer yet, and they certainly are very green. At some point I’ll get some pictures online so you can see them for yourself (kind of).

The trotro dropped us off right inside the grounds of Boti falls, which was actually a bit inconvenient since we hadn’t eaten lunch yet. After a “lunch” of bananas and cookies we embarked on our journey to see the falls and to another attraction called “Umbrella Rock”. The hike was beautiful, but very treacherous in some parts. The people at the gates had insisted we hire a guide (it was only $3) and he was moving at breakneck speed. I didn’t really have the capacity or desire to keep up with him, and I think he was kind of annoyed at my incessant picture-taking and water-drinking breaks. I’m not sure if it was because I was lagging behind, or if he was a poor communicator to everyone, but I had no idea what was going on and I thought we were hiking in the direction of the falls. We were actually on a pretty long hike to Umbrella Rock and to a nearby village. It was really beautiful, but really exhausting, and we were all pouring in sweat by the time we reached Umbrella Rock.

Umbrella Rock turned out to be the most Lion King-esque thing I have seen since arriving in Africa. Meaning, it was sort of like Pride Rock. The view from on top of this rock was amazing! I could have stayed and just looked out for hours, but our tour guide edged us on. He led us past grazing goats, tomato plants, and a small cemetery to a nearby village, where a local showed us what he insisted was a most unique and amazing spectacle: a three headed palm tree.

We went back the way we came, up the downs and down the ups, and no one got hurt even though we were exhausted. The falls turned out to be just a short distance from the entrance gate, and down some stairs. I had mixed feelings about the hike because I hadn’t really known what I was in for and didn’t appreciate being rushed by our guide, but I forgot about them as the falls became visible.

I fell In Love with this waterfall. There were actually two separate streams of water rushing down and there was mist everywhere. We ditched our tour guide and stayed in the basin until we started getting worried that the sun would set before we made it to the top of the stairs.

We decided to travel on to Shia Hills and stay at the resort there so that we could wake up and hike before it got hot and then go on to the bead market. We opted to hold off on dinner in order to fully enjoy a big dinner at the resort. We got directions, but the trotro mate forgot to tell us to get off when we reached the place we needed to switch cars, and so we rode all the way back down to Kofiridua. We thought Shia Hills would be within a short cab distance of Akosombo, so we boarded a trotro headed in that direction. We learned that Kofiridua is actually quite far from Akosombo. We finally arrived, only to find out that Shia Hills is also quite far from Akosombo. After a tiring day, we agreed to call it a day and a cab driver took us to a nearby hotel.

It was at this point that I really began to realize the amount of trust we put in cab drivers. In a country where we are foreigners, in a town where we had never been before, and at night, this cab driver drove the five of us down an increasingly dark and bumpy road, further and further away from the bustling town center, towards what seemed like the middle of nowhere. It occurred to me that he could just take us out to some abandoned road, rob us, and leave us there. My traveling companions looked nervous as well. It was strange to be afraid for my life while upbeat Ghanaian hip-life music was blasting from the speakers.

It turns out the driver had good intentions and brought us to a safe, well-maintained hotel. The only problem was we were absolutely starving, but the kitchen had closed at eight. The time was 8:05. We must have seemed pretty pathetic because they agreed to make us dinner anyway, and I swear it was the best food I’ve ever tasted. We fell asleep immediately and awoke to an amazing view off of the balcony and complimentary egg sandwiches.

We asked the lady at the desk for directions to the bead market and she told us it was within walking distance down the road we had come in on. We set off on foot and were met by two men, one of whom insisted on accompanying us to the market after we told him where we were going. He took us on a path off of the main road and we walked past mud houses, children bathing, clothes on the line, goats, and chickens. For the first time since I’ve been in Ghana I felt like I was getting a real view of how most people in the country went about their lives.

We got to the market and found tables upon tables of beads. I wanted to look at everything before I bought anything, which is both a really good thing to do and a really difficult thing to do at markets. For the most part, one shop’s inventory is roughly identical to the nexts, but if you shop around you can see the small variations in quality and selection, and you can usually get a better price if you leave and come back. We spent a long time buying gifts for ourselves and others. We decided not to bother going to Shia Hills because of the heat and the distance, and we decided not to go to the bead factory because we were beaded out. So we went home.

The next day, I found out from one of my fellow travelers, that we had not actually gone to “the” bead market, the one that was in the guide book. I’m a little bit bummed out that we didn’t go to the big one, but the selection was overwhelming enough as it was, so maybe it’s a good thing.