Back Roads of Ghana

     In the Western World, the term “eco-travel” conjures the image of man alone in the wilderness,   not another soul for miles around.  But in a country like Ghana, where tribal traditions developed into complex cultural beliefs centuries before first contact with Westerners,  the roots of civilization are inextricably entwined with nature.  For this reason, my travels across Ghana were more often accompanied by explanations of sites’ cultural significance than their biological significance.   (As a student of biology, this took some getting used to.)  Yet, in a way, emphasizing the cultural significance of a nation’s resources can make an even more compelling case for conservation than heady number-crunching.  There’s “God” in them there hills.

The Ashanti Region

       Named for the largest traditional tribal group,  Ashanti (aka Asante)  is where most visitors to Ghana begin their journey.  It houses Accra and Kumasi, Ghana’s two largest cities, and after several weeks getting to know Ghanaian city culture, practicing my Twi, and weathering myself to the phrase “Obruni!” (the Twi word for “foreigner”) I was happy to retreat from the dust and noise of the busy city streets into the twisting mountain roads.  Outside the city, where English is far less common, the lush green and rolling mountains of the sub-Saharan jungle needed no translation. 

In an attempt to think green, I took a full-sized bus, and soon came to appreciate the cushion it offered from the sometimes violent bumping along the narrow dirt roads.  I was headed to stay with a host family in the tiny village of Atonsu – a housing option recommended for the seasoned traveler who is willing to keep a low and uncomplaining profile, and who is more interested in learning about the lifestyle of rural Ghanaians than sleeping and showering in westernized facilities.  Upon arrival, my first stop was at the home of the chief to request permission to visit his village and learn from his people – an important step for any visitor, especially Obruni.  He welcomed me with true Ghanaian hospitality.  It wasn’t long before I was found by a group of “guides” – young girls, aged seven to thirteen who were willing to take me along with them into the bush.  Though young by Western standards, I felt as safe with these girls as with anyone in Ghana, as they made the same trek down the thin jungle road nearly every day since they learned walk, to chop cassava root for their mothers to cook.   An American friend of mine was fortunate enough to befriend a hunter, who took him off the path into the bush – where, the hunter said, an inexperienced non-hunter should never tread for danger of snakes and ghosts – and demonstrated how to track and shoot bush animals.  They returned to the village with a grasscutter, an animal resembling a gopher which is considered a Ghanaian delicacy (now heavily regulated due to poaching). 

Later, an enthusiastic older man led me and a companion on an impromptu trip to a cavern full of hundreds of bats, which flew through the dim light and tussled our hair.  Though the language barrier prevented me from learning the name of the cave system, I was later able to glean that these were Mauritian Tomb Bats, which can be seen throughout the region.  On the way home, a crowd of excited young boys ran up to us with a chameleon clinging to a branch.  “It is very special,” one boy explained, and we all watched as the terrified lizard turned dark brown and bit at the air.  I later learned that some Ghanaian tribes represent “Almighty God” as a chameleon, because of the ever-changing, un-nameable nature of the highest power. 

The Eastern Region

     Moving westward, my traveling companions and I entered the region of the Krobo people, and the village of Odumase.  The Krobo are particularly well-known for making colorful ceramic and glass beads, most which are used in the female puberty rite called dipo, but we were there for something different:  a hike.  We hadn’t been up a mountain since we landed in Ghana over a month earlier. 

"The Kroyo" is not exactly a mountain, and true to the casual, non-specific Ghanaian way, no one seems to know exactly how tall it is.  What matters is that it is the highest point in the area of Odumase, and as such, it is sacred to the people there.  Though the trip up is a fairly easy day-hike, it was important as always to bring someone who could show us the safest and most respectful route to the peak; we’d been warned before about stumbling into sacred spots, and even those of us who didn’t believe in spirits didn’t want to take our chances.  The guide told us that the Krobo people took refuge on the Kroyo when slave traders invaded their village.  They asked the spirits of the mountain to protect them, and, as the story goes, supplemented their prayers by rolling boulders down the slopes, crushing their white pursuers.  Not exactly the sort of thing you hear about on any old tour.  The route is short but steep and rocky, and there is plenty to see on the way up:  flora and fauna, rock formations and rock murals depicting representations of the Kroyo spirits, angels, moons, and birds taking flight. 

The most beautiful picture of all was the vista at the mountains’ peak – breathtaking even on a hazy day.  To one side, the edge of Lake Volta peered out from under the approaching rain; to the other – mountains, green valley.  Climbing out from the trees to the broad rock-faces overlooking the valley, it was easy to see how the mountain became sacred. 

The Volta Region

     Nourished by the river that shares its name, the eastern-most Volta Region’s lush be-jungled mountains are what the eco-traveler’s dreams are made of.  With our choice of any number of eco-tourist hot-spots,  we tried to hit a sampling of them all – from swimming in the valleys to walking in the trees.

Throughout most of Ghana, there are two rainy seasons:  April to July and September to November.  We began our venture into Volta at the beginning of April, which meant the Volta River was just beginning to come to life.  Our first stop was Wli Falls, reportedly the tallest waterfall in West Africa, at approximately 400 meters (as usual, no one seemed to be sure).  Located in the Agumatsa Wildlife Sanctuary, the actual falls is about a 45 minute walk through the jungle, and we took our time examining the plants and insects we saw along the way.

As we turned the last bend, we suddenly got the feeling we had stepped into the Mesozoic Era. In an otherwise green landscape, one side of the waterfall was all golden rock formations, from which hung hundreds upon hundreds of fruit bats.  Dozens more circled in the air like pterodactyls. The opposite wall, by contrast, was overgrown with white and purple orchids, which climbed the rocky slope nine or ten meters above our heads. And in the middle was the water fall.  As the water cascaded down in that gorgeous waterfall way, we had no choice but to strip down (in a culturally appropriate manner) and take a dip. Despite its height, the water fell gently; we could stand underneath and let it pound our heads and shoulders, Mother Nature's massage.  I dove to the pool’s bottom and snatched up a handful of stones which, when I resurfaced, surprised me with their variety in color and pattern.  I wished someone had been there to tell us the sorts of minerals that the pebbles represented, but the kid in me was satisfied to marvel at their beauty.  Just as we were preparing to tear ourselves away, we heard voices...moving through the trees towards us.  As the sound grew louder, we could make out the tune – a hymn, in four part harmony.  Ten young men and women, all dressed in white, emerged from the trees, smiling flirtatiously with one another and singing with a cathedral praise that suddenly conjured the word "Eden."  As we stepped out of the water and squeezed our clothes dry, the teenaged choir laughed and pushed each other into the water.  If not for the pubescent giggles and splashing and suddenly semi-transparent clothes, it would have seemed like a baptism.  We left them to their own devices and walked slowly back through the jungle to our bus, humming. 

Relatively near Wli Falls in the Hohoe area of the Volta Region, Tafi-Atome Monkey Sanctuary offers another near-religious experience for anyone who finds solace in nature.  The grove and the mona monkeys who inhabit it have survived for centuries, despite fires and the threat of disturbance from nearby human populations.  As such, our guide explained, the area has been held sacred by tradition for centuries, and the government established the sanctuary to honor that tradition.  Our guide clearly had a deep personal connection with the monkeys, and knew by heart their groups and patterns of movement through the jungle.  He showed us how to get close to the monkeys by breaking off pieces of banana and holding them aloft.  Seeming familiar with the process, the monkeys climbed down from their branches and snatched the banana from our outstretched hands, cautiously pleased to sit near us until we bore no more fruit.  While we knew this was not the most natural way for the creatures to feed, the ritual represented a sustainable relationship between eco-tourists and a delicate ecological habitat.  Plus, the little “gods” were just so darn cute. 

The next day, we embarked to Kakum National Park to try for ourselves the famous Canopy Walk.  The name says it all:  you walk…in the canopy.  For those who were scared of heights, the idea took some getting used to:  the narrow bridge is only as wide as the average person’s hips, and though the cables are well-engineered and stable, it is easy to feel that there is nothing between you and the 100 feet of jungle below.  For others, this feeling was incredible:  looking down to spot birds and butterflies in every imaginable hue (of 250 and 550 species, respectively) makes you feel a little less like a human intruder, and a little more like just another part of nature. 

The Northern Region

     Due to a recent increase in civil unrest, travelers should proceed with caution and the necessary clearance from their consulate when visiting Northern Ghana.  If deemed safe, it is well worth the trip.   The North has its own set of tribal histories, and as such offers an entirely different cultural experience than Central and Eastern Ghana.  For instance in Tamale, the largest northern city, the population of practicing Muslims is much higher, so it is respectful for women to keep their heads relatively covered. 

My favorite discovery up north was the steep increase in bicycle riding.  I was able to rent a bike cheaply for a week at a time, which meant that I had more independence when it came to exploring my surrounds.  Some young boys (locally called “small boys”) showed me the back roads route to one of Tamale’s many “tree gods” – enormous ancient trees that had survived long enough to be considered deities.  In accordance with local tradition, I climbed to the top of one such tree and dropped kola nuts down its hollow center as an offering.

The jewel of our trip north, however, was the chance to visit Mole National Park.  As soon as we arrived at Mole, we knew we had to be at our most alert – tse tse flies forced us to get heavy-duty with the bug spray, and tales of a recent run-in with an ornery juvenile bull elephant reminded us to stay close to our rifle-bearing guides.  But for the eco-traveler, the rewards vastly outweigh the risks.  From bathing elephants, to waves of deer, screeching baboons and the hilarious warthogs that joined us in the courtyard for dinner, we didn’t want to blink for fear of missing a new species to add to our “life lists.”  And we only saw about eight of the alleged 94 species that are protected within Mole’s borders. 
   
The Coast and Eweland

     Oh and then there’s the beach.  A tropical getaway isn’t the first thing most people associate with sub-Saharan Africa, but in fact the entire southern coast of Ghana is gorgeous white sand beaches, palm trees, and warm turquoise waters.  But swimmers beware:  not being one for resorts, I learned the hard way to choose carefully where I took my dips.  Many of Ghana’s beaches are affected by polluted runoff from nearby towns, while others drop steeply into areas of dangerous undertow. 

No one knows the dangers of the ocean better than the fishermen with whom I spoke in Aflao, a coastal town in Eastern Ghana, just a few miles from Togo.  This region is called Eweland (Eh-weh land), named for the Ewe  people, which meant that not only was my Twi useless here, but so was my English; due to its proximity to Togo, most Ewe spoke French as their second language.  With the help of a translator, the fishermen told me of their experiences with Mami Wata, a sea goddess commonly depicted as a mermaid (called Yemajah by the Yoruba of Nigeria and in Santeria, La Sirena in much of the Americas).  Like the sea, Mami Wata  can be nurturing or destructive, and for traditional fishermen who daily travel over the horizon in dugout canoes no bigger than ten feet in length, staying on her good side is a matter of life or death.  A Mami Wata priestess in nearby Klikor told me the tale of how she had fallen into the sea as a young girl, and was saved by a sea spirit who asked in return that she devote her life to Mami Wata.

I was lucky to find the gentler side of Mami Wata in the area of Kokrobite, 30 km to the west of Accra.  There, the calmer waters attract a certain beach-going tourist enclave, but when a friend led us to Big Milly’s backyard, we sort of fell in love.  Big Milly’s has since gained some notoriety among the more rugged traveling crowd, which has ironically resulted in a boost in prices and the addition of such modern accoutrement as air-conditioned rooms.  Nevertheless – the eco-traveler can easily avoid the ozone depleting air-conditioning by spending all day in the bath-warm sea water, floating 100 meters down the coastline, getting out and doing it again.  Big Milly’s may have gained popularity, but rumor has it Milly’s is still a nice quiet place with bucket showers, sweetly painted rooms, and the best fresh seafood restaurant in Ghana – a relatively guilt-free place to enjoy the simple joys of sand and surf.  My only regret is that I learned too late that Kokrobite’s calmer surf makes it the perfect hatching-ground for leatherback turtles.  Next time, I’ll make sure to visit during the hatching season, August to March. 

Oh, and next time I’m going to make sure to see a pangolin, too.  Those things have been around for so long, they’ve got to be sacred.

By: Maggie Ryan Sandford

OLA Username: MaggieSandford