Accra, Ghana

We awoke to the industrial harbor of Tema, a harbor town about 20 kilometers from Accra. Tema has the distinction of being located on the Prime Meridian, also known as the Greenwich Meridian, which is the line that divides the world into the Eastern and Western Hemispheres. During our time in port, the ship's geography professor found what he believed to be "the line" and had his photo taken with one foot in each hemisphere.
A shuttle bus ran between the ship and Accra, which was a 30-60 minute ride depending on the traffic. We were lucky to catch the first shuttle into town and loved seeing the sights on the streets, including colorful clothing.

Once in Accra, we took a cab to the James Town area of the city and saw this colonial-era lighthouse. Once a British colony (known as the Gold Coast), Ghana gained its independence in 1957. English is still the official language, but residents also speak their own African language and usually several extra dialects as well. An unofficial guide picked us up and told us he would take us through James Town, protecting us and letting us know where we could and could not take photos.

On our way to the fishing harbor, the guide took us through some of the most extreme poverty I have ever seen. Certainly for our kids the experience was very intense. Walking through the narrow passages of shacks, rubble, and garbage, we saw children in bits of rags or with nothing on. The smell was strong. Still, in the midst of the poverty, the children were playing and the people were doing laundry, mending fishing nets, smoking fish, and often engaging in some sort of livelihood, however meager. These areas were definitely not places to whip out the camera and shoot.
Once we made it to the harbor, the scene lightened. It was a Sunday and children, mostly boys, were playing in the ocean. Some fishermen were coming and going in their boats and wanted to tell us about their work. Our guide, Vis, is the young man in the yellow shirt.

Like so many women in Ghana, this young girl was carrying a load on her head. She kept coming up to us and it seemed like she wanted her photo taken, so I obliged!

The women above paused from their work to watch the boys playing in the ocean.

We walked up and out of the intense area of James Town and saw the soccer field across the way. Our guide is a regular soccer player and teaches youth how to play.
Vis took us into the James Fort prison, which is no longer used.

From the prison, we could look back over James Town and see where we had been. These photos perhaps give a bit of an idea of the conditions of this area. Once out of the prison, Vis wanted us to rejoice that we were free! Charis was still upset about the poverty and was not in the mood to celebrate.

We were parched with thirst and drenched in sweat when our next cab took us to this restaurant to buy a soda. Fortified, we went to the National Cultural Centre for another completely intense experience. We were literally swarmed by the shopkeepers wanting us to buy their wares. We have bargained and shopped and been hassled in each country we have visited, but the level of intensity here was unparalleled. I never, however, feared for our safety: the shopkeepers were kind and definitely had a sense of humor when we argued back at them. Plus, they really loved talking with the kids and trying to sell them things, too! They were ready to laugh with us and joke around. And when Steve and I got separated, they would send people off to go retrieve him for me or take me to him. I also felt that the bargaining, although rigorous, was fair and more open than in some other countries. Still, the experience was a bit crushing at times; sometimes it felt as if there was no air to breathe and no personal space at all.

The back part of the market was open-air and so we could actually breathe. Plus, it became clear to everyone that we literally had No Money left so the aggressive sales pitches slowed way down. They had seen our wallets and they were empty! That is the thing about shopping abroad: it seems like we either have taken too much money out of the ATM with nothing to buy or we see a million things to purchase, but there is no way to get to an international ATM.
All in all, though exhausting and a bit over the top, the shopping proved to be a great cultural experience.

We hired a cab to take us to a few sites: The W.E.B. Du Bois Centre is the former home and now burial site of the prominent African American writer and speaker who devoted himself to the Pan-African Congress, which sought to unite all Africans in the first part of the 20th century. The Centre was closed, but we walked around the grounds.
We drove past one of the main government buildings (second photo) and then headed to the National Museum pictured in the third photo.

The museum contained a Kente Cloth loom and some examples of this ancient weaving technique unique to Ghana.

The Nkrumah Mausoleum is the final resting place of Kwame Nkrumah, the first president of Ghana. Like the Lincoln Memorial in DC, the Nkrumah memorial is a place for newlyweds to be photographed. In our short time at the monument, we saw two couples being photographed. The groom in the photo above ran after us and insisted we all get our picture taken together. He also talked about marrying Charis, which seemed strange on many levels, not the least of which was that he had just gotten married once today already. This was Charis' second marriage proposal of the day (the first was from an older, drunken man in James Town), and so we decided to take off for a wholesome environment: a Pentecostal Praise Choir show at the National Theatre.

Built by the Chinese in 1992, this huge theatre houses a many different kinds of events. Tonight's show was a free inspirational concert attended by a packed house of young, energetic, well-dressed Ghanaians. We enjoyed soaking up the sounds of a rock group and the praise choir before leaving the show early to catch the bus back to Tema. After lots of wrong turns and miscommunication with our taxi driver, we finally found the bus stop in time to see the over-packed shuttle bus pulling away from the stop. After more confusion, we were thrilled when another bus driver spontaneously decided to head to the port with our family as the only passengers on board. The air-conditioner was going full-blast and we collapsed into the empty bus and headed to the ship.
Here are clips of the shoreline in James Town and some of the praise concert at the National Theatre: