Ghana, The Gold Coast
Now I understand why they [international community] always pick Ghana for investment and tourism, despite our country being more endowed. I also have a better understanding of why ‘margin’ [Mustapha Mijinyawa] moved to Ghana with his family. We 1st visited Ghana 13 years ago, precisely in the December of 1997 on the invitation of Mr. […]
Now I understand why they [international community] always pick Ghana for investment and tourism, despite our country being more endowed. I also have a better understanding of why ‘margin’ [Mustapha Mijinyawa] moved to Ghana with his family. We 1st visited Ghana 13 years ago, precisely in the December of 1997 on the invitation of Mr. Habadah, our then Ghanaian neighbor of sorts at Godwin Okigbo Street in Surulere, Lagos. I say of sorts because it was the company in which he was working in, an auditing firm based in Kaduna that had a guest house directly opposite our flat.
Often times, especially end of year, he would be in Lagos for days, on his way home for the Christmas holiday, and I would sometimes invite him in for either lunch or dinner. It was during one of those dinners that the idea of going to Ghana came up. I remember very well my first and second daughters [Fatima and Maryam], were with their grand parents in Kano, So without their distractions, my wife had ample time to prepare excellent dinner, to which we invited Mr Habadah, and the following day I, rather hypnotically found myself at the Ghana airways office at Awolowo road in S/W Ikoyi buying tickets to Accra. I can’t really remember now who brought the issue up, but I know for sure that meal had something to do with it.
You see what good neighborliness can do. I was further encouraged to go by a good friend and indeed brother of mine, Alhaji Danladi Miniko, then working for the Dangote group in Accra. Anyway, we arrived Accra then a few days to Christmas into the waiting hands of Mr Habadah, [he left earlier than we did] who came to the airport in his Peugeot saloon car to pick us.
Out of the airport, we drove to a hotel in an area called North Ridge. With all check in formalities done, I requested and insisted that he shouldn’t bother with us again, but should rather go spend quality Christmas time with his family. I also placed a call to Danladi, who joined us not long after, in order to give Mr Habadah some comfort that we were in good hands. We indeed were, because Danladi practically surrendered his vehicle and driver to us from then on. That first visit was of not more than three days, so not much was accomplished in terms of sight seeing. We didn’t even drive out of Accra, but, four things from that trip are still engraved in my memory.
Firstly, our good first impression of the city. I still remember the cleanliness and orderliness, even then, which has now tripled, or should I say quadrupled. Secondly, I can still recollect an incidence at a small, nice gift shop close to our hotel. We had strolled into the shop with my wife to pick a few gift items and we ended up under paying. This, we discovered only after going back to our hotel. I quickly went back to complete the payment. The girl managing the shop, whose name I still remember as Irene, apparently impressed that I came back, went in to call her mother for introductions. What surprised me though was, despite my gesture, the mother refused to take the dollar [didn’t have local currency on me] I offered.
She rather, instructed the daughter to drive me to – wait for it – a section of town populated by predominantly Hausa people to exchange the currency, which to me meant, even our best, to her, was not good enough. Irene, who turned out to be a good driver, was very polite all the way, probably trying to make up for her mothers mis-trust. I was really taken aback with that level of mis-trust for Nigerians. Couldn’t blame the mother though, she might have been done in by someone back home, I thought. Back in the shop, the mother asked me all sought of questions about Nigeria, going to the extent of asking how many kids we had, to which I replied by saying 2.7.
My wife was seven months pregnant with our third daughter [Halima] then. This got Irene almost ROTFL. I stopped over in the shop, which now sells pastries on this trip, but none of them was around. Thirdly, the quality of both buildings and surroundings of the University of Accra, which are, incidentally and admirably, still the same. Fourth, the surprise gift of a nice shirt by Danladi Miniko. Danladi, who figured I really wanted that shirt, on display in glass at a shop, because of the number of times we checked to see if they were open, surprised me by sending it not long after we returned to Lagos.
How he got it before somebody else and for how much, I still don’t know. I figured he may have planted someone around the shop, [like they do when a mega sale is to take place at Harrods]. I tell you the shirt is worth all that. How can I ever forget such an act of kindness and generosity? I, rather sadly, had to eventually part with it, due largely to middle age spread.
Now, like I always say, travel sometimes comes our way effortlessly. We are grateful to the Almighty always for that, and so did this last one come our way also. This is what happened. I was telling a rich and dear friend the business opportunities Sao Tome and Principe has to offer when he interrupted and said, ‘why don’t you go there with the family for the new year holiday?’ [He knows my penchant for travel] I said, ‘no, I just got back from there, my plan is to go somewhere else, like say, Ghana. He said, ‘fine, I will arrange it ’, and he did.
Everything, from tickets, to accommodation in a three bedroom townhouse at a hotel called Royal Reichester, equipped with a good restaurant and swimming pool, to a chauffeur driven car were arranged within a couple of days and e-mailed to me. What more can you ask for from such a friend? I, my wife, Halima, who first visited Accra at seven months in her mothers womb, and her siblings jetted out of the country through Abuja airport with Arik airlines on the 29th of December 2011.
In-flight, I met Ambassador Musiliu Obanikoro, who graciously extended an invitation to join him for Friday prayers the following day. On landing Accra late evening, we were somehow surprised to see the passage to immigration inside the airport covered with adverts by mostly Nigerian banks. The airport was clean and the immigration staff courteous. I was impressed to see their biometrics machines functioning very well, amongst several other major improvements I noticed around the airport. The driver [Fred] sent to pick us up, eventually turned out to be a major domo of sorts.
We immediately noticed he was very courteous and knew how to handle kids very well. They still ask after him. At the check in counter I met the general manager, Mr Nana Antwi, a very amiable gentleman who went to great lengths to make our stay comfortable. Fred and some of the kids went out to pick some groceries while we familiarized ourselves with the environment.
The following day, I and my son Muhammad went to the Nigerian embassy to see both the Ambassador and Mr Kurmawa, the number two in the embassy with whom we share a lot of common friends. He took very good care of us, and we eventually left together for Friday prayers. The imam, who conducted his sermon in both Hausa[lots of people speak Hausa in Accra, and even those that don’t have a fair understanding of it] and English, concluded with a very patriotic prayer for the country, and went on to add an additional one for the current logjam in Nigeria. Thereafter, we proceeded to visit a childhood friend [Mustapha Mijinyawa] who—wait for it—-has completely relocated with his family to Ghana. Well, sort of, because he still has one son here in Zaria academy that will join them upon completion of his studies, to complete the migration. Back at the hotel, my wife and the rest of the gang went out to get a feel of the city, ending up with a visit to Margin and his family.
I wanted us to go see the Elmina castle in the Cape Coast the following day, but decided against it on Mr Nana’s advice. He had said, ‘you better go Sunday, when traffic would be far less’. So, we instead toured the city of Accra on Saturday. Our first port of call was an area called 37, through Olusegun Obasanjo way, in order to see the architecturally beautiful flagstaff house. I was made to understand it was built by the former president [Mr John Kuffour] as an alternate office/residence for the president.
We drove around trying to see if we could get access and take some pictures but unfortunately couldn’t. So also did it happen at the castle, the other presidential house? I must however say, the soldiers were courteous, and I mean very courteous, in both locations. They took the trouble of explaining that it would have been possible if we had obtained permission beforehand. We drove on to independence square, a familiar landmark in the city, in the likes of, the way Eiffel tower is to Paris. We took lots of souvenir photos and moved on to Kwame Nkrumah mausoleum, paid the fees, toured the grounds, spent time in the museum and ended up at the souvenir shop.
On our way out I, rather sadly reflected on why we do not have anything near this regarding our founding fathers. Arewa house is there alright, but who knows, or cares? And pretty much the same can be said of other regions in the country. We proceeded to the arts and crafts market.
The place was bubbling with more tourists than we had seen on our first visit. I remained in the car, while Fred, madam and the kids went in to pick a couple of dresses. I told Fred that I wanted some nuts when they came out, and my wife mumbled some protests about my eating habit. I insisted, and we went to get some in an area called USO. The packaging, in a big plastic jar, and more importantly the contents, were wonderful. The taste of those nuts was so good that we had to make a u-turn at some point for additional packages, and guess what?
At Hajiyas request. Before reaching the hotel we passed by the biggest shopping mall in Accra, [shop rite] to pick goggles and floaters, for the kids use in the pool, —before you start wondering. From that day on, it became routine for the children to go for an early morning swimming lesson with a trainer whose name I can’t exactly remember now, but for sure sounds like either Mobutu or Mugabe.
He was good. Had we spent more time, he would have removed the fear of water from our little Asmau. On Sunday, the 1st of January 2012, we set out around 8.30am for Cape Coast, through the Kanda highway which passes through Nima, a Hausa community with the largest Muslim population in the city, taking a right turn at the end of it to a big Psychiatric hospital in an area called asylum down.
Could there be a more appropriate name? I don’t think so. The road took us to a big round about named Kwame Nkrumah circle, from where we connected through a maze of inner alleys to the main highway out of town. The drive to the coast was pleasant, despite the road not dualised. I can’t remember a single moment when I missed a heartbeat due to either dangerous overtaking or over speeding. Fred was as gentle with the car as with the kids.
About 3 hours or so later, we were parked right at the entrance of the Cape Coast castle. The place was bubbling with tourists from all over the globe as expected. Before going into the castle, let me 1st of all say something about the country and its tourism industry. The tourism industry in Ghana has frog leaped way ahead of ours— that’s assuming we have any. Why? Because they have put all the right things in place, especially security, which is the single most important factor which gives people confidence, aside from serious advertisement and promotion of what ought to be seen in the country.
Much as I would want to see Obudu, I still haven’t been able to summon enough courage to drive with the family on that road, and I am pretty sure you know why. Tourist guides and centers that will give you an idea of what to go see in the different regions of the country are available in all major hotels and outlets at your beck and call. Ghana, formerly known as the gold coast became independent from Britain three years before Nigeria.
It occupies the pinnacle in Pan-African history by lighting the torch for African emancipation, thus becoming home to famous Pan-Africanists such as George Padmore and W.E.B. Du Bois. This probably explains why they still seem, think and act like our big brothers, despite our size, human and natural resources. Remember they called us to Aburi to settle our differences before the outbreak of our civil war? —- Just like any big brother would do to settle younger sibling’s quarrels? Ghana, with a population of about 20,000,000, occupies a land area of 92 100sq miles, and is in a Greenwich Mean Time zone.
Now, Cape coast castle is just one out of about 42 forts and castles in Ghana, all recognized by UNESCO as world heritage monuments. It was erected by the Portuguese in 1482, and is the first trading port built on the gulf of Guinea, so can be said to be the oldest European building in existence south of the Sahara. It later became one of the most important ‘stops’ on the Atlantic slave trade route. The Europeans struggled and fought hard for control of this castle over a long period of time. It changed hands several times between the Portuguese, Dutch and Swedes, before eventually falling into the hands of the British in 1871.
Inside the Castle, we were grouped together with several other tourists, mostly from Europe, under the guide of a young Ghanaian, who took us on an almost hour plus tour. We started from the dungeons, where up to about 200 captives used to be kept under intolerable and unprintable conditions, such as lack of toilets, with three small openings of not more than seven inches width, to serve as what they called, ventilation. Directly above the dungeons are the slave masters quarters, with 9 large windows in the living room and 4 in the bedrooms directly over looking the ocean.
But, that’s not even it. Over and above all that contradiction is the presence of a Church, also above the dungeons. The slave masters obviously either had a wrapped understanding of the bible, or never opened it. We were taken through several other rooms, including those where auction of slaves used to take place, which had newspaper clips of advertisements for the auctions dating back to the 1800’s on display. I noticed it was rather difficult locking eyes with Europeans in that room. In fact, I saw a somewhat plum European lady, [who I figured could most probably be a descendant of one of those who advocated for the abolishing of slave trade], cuddled up in a corner crying comforted by her companions. In my mind, i thought the companions who weren’t shedding a tear drop, could be descendants of the slave traders.
Mark you; these were just random thoughts that flew through my mind. Before concluding the tour, our small daughter Asmau, linked up and became somewhat close to a European lady in the group. She could also be a descendant of ——–, only the Almighty knew what was going through her mind. The Cape Coast or Elmina castles are a must see whenever you find yourself in Ghana for a holiday.
In fact, president Obama, who visited the castle along with his wife and two daughters, and had a vivid impression of the harrowing experiences of the trans Atlantic slave trade ended his speech by inviting all of African descent in the Diaspora to endeavor to visit the Cape Coast castle at least once in their lifetime, in the likes of our recommended annual pilgrimage to Mecca.
Though you may not be in the Diaspora, I will still recommend you heed to this clarion call by Obama. You will be glad you did. We toyed with the idea of proceeding to Kakum national park, in order to experience the thrill of walking on the 333 meter suspended rope bridge that is 27 meters off the ground, but eventually dropped it in order to stop by Bojo beach resort on our way back. It turned out to be a big mistake, for by the time we got there, it was parked full.
We joined the very long queue in buying tickets to enter only because we were hungry, and Fred had said, ‘there is a good restaurant inside’. He was right. The Tilapia fish we ordered, mixed with a Ghanaian special pepper was very tasty. Don’t forget to buy the pepper, available in almost all shops—if you are ulcer free— preserved to last up to a year, mixed with oil and specially packaged inside a jar. After the meal, the waiter refused to accept payment with dollars, agreeing only after the somewhat tipsy proprietor’s intervention, at a killer exchange rate agreed upon to cut his losses, just in case, which made me think he wasn’t too tipsy after all, and that the mistrust of our people encountered 13 years ago still hasn’t abated.
Don’t blame them though; their currency is very strong and powerful. Out of the restaurant, we found another long queue for crossing on to the beach. A buffer zone of an artificial lake was specially created to give visitors the additional thrill of crossing in a boat. We left the resort, which can aptly be described as a Mecca of sorts for kidnappers because of the number of foreigners milling around almost at sun set. I tell you the place can, and will certainly get kidnappers salivating. But then, because of that security, people were driving in even as we made our way out. Fred told us there would still be people there up to midnight.
Before getting back to town, Fred bought a packaged ‘tuwo’ by the road side which lasts up to a month without getting spoilt called ‘kenke’. ‘With this, all we have to do is prepare soup any time we want to eat’ he said. How convenient, I thought to myself. My wife, who surprisingly turned out to be the adventurous one this time around by ordering it at the hotel said it has a very sour taste. But then, maybe that’s what preserves it. Lest I forget, let me share this with you. On that highway to Cape Coast, I noticed a few over speeding signposts, with the number of people that died at the particular accident spots written boldly on display along the road.
Now, can you imagine at what intervals we would have to put up such, especially along Abuja—Lokoja road, or Ibadan—Ilorin, or—- if we were to do this here? The police along the highway also had gadgets that detect vehicles speed upon approach. Can you now see how far ahead they are?
Before reaching the hotel, we agreed, like in a proper democracy, the following day would be reserved for Tagbo water falls which flows down from atop mount Afadjato at a height of approximately 900 meters above sea level. Narrating this after dinner to Margin– our friend that relocated to Accra, he advised that we do the boat ride on Volta Lake instead.
He assured that it would be much more fun, especially for the kids. I agreed and rather dictatorially vetoed our collective decision, forgetting completely that we had done a similar adventure in the Mediterranean some two years back. It turned out to be a bad decision. The whole day would have been wasted, were it not for the unbelievable scenery on the road and the lesson I learnt in the repercussions of dictatorship. I felt so bad seeing the family looking sullen and wearing long faces on our way back. This is what transpired.
As is usual in the morning, we had had breakfast together at the restaurant early, the kids had their swimming lesson and Fred had arrived promptly. We took off through the road to Tema, more or less an industrial town. It may interest you to know that Tema was created from scratch by Mr Kwame Nkrumah, in the likes of lets say, Kakuri in Kaduna, created by the late Sardauna, and has now grown to be the biggest city in the country. A lot of people shuttle from there to Accra for work because the dualised road is in top shape, with street lights almost all through.
Talk of visionary leadership. After Tema, we passed through the town of Afienya-which sounds Ibo- before reaching Akosombo, the town that houses the Volta river authority, Volta Lake and from where most of the electrical energy in the country is generated. Akosombo, with a population of 19, 700 people only offered us some awesome scenery, especially in the premises of the Volta lake authority from where the boat ride took off. We arrived just at the nick of time, and here too; our payment in dollars was refused, [Couldn’t learn my lesson] but graciously offered to tarry for a while for Fred to exchange the currency in town.
Before he came back, one of the promoters came out, leered at us, figured we were clean, [I think], and directed our payment be collected—mercifully at the correct exchange rate. We thanked him and waited for Fred, who showed up panting for breath not too long after. We boarded the ferry named Dodi princess, and as soon as we got moving a man adorning those funny looking pointed shoes and a tuck-in that extends to the navel, totality of which made him look funnier, took the floor and gave us a brief history of the vessel, which has been operational since 1991 without any incidence, to calm our nerves.
The trip, to an island, which took about two, mostly boring hours, was very smooth. The only fun part was provided by a band which played Fatai rolling dollar style of high life, with the elderly that could connect to it dancing their lives away. The fish/chicken lunch served on board was also very good. At the island, we were welcomed by the natives with song and dance. The ride back was more boring, as there was nothing to while away time on board. Were they to have a form of variety show mixed with some Nigerian stand up comics, like say Gandoki or Buchi to entertain on board, the trip would have been much more fun, for sure.
We disembarked from the vessel late evening with mixed feelings, but glad we had taken a ride in the 2nd biggest man made lake in the world, after the one China built not too long ago. The big question is why we can’t offer people this kind of getaway here, albeit even on a small scale? Its not as if we don’t have artificial lakes here, we do, from Bagauda lake in Kano right up to Abuja and beyond.
But not to worry, Urban Shelter Nig Ltd is planning to rescue us with an ambitious development of a water theme park, along the Jabi/Kado Lake. On our last day, we dropped my wife, Halima and Muhammad at shop rite and drove with the small ones to Aburi. I just had to go see it. The road to Aburi is mountainous and winding, but at the same time safe.
At the top, we passed by the presidential lodge, [in the likes of Camp David] in which president Obama spent a night in. The top presents a very good view of Accra, quietly sitting down in a valley. You also mustn’t miss the botanical garden, with giant over 100 year old trees scattered in when you climb to Aburi. All said and done, what impressed me most about Ghanaians is the seriousness with which they take education.
We came across standard schools in all the villages passed along all the different routes taken out of Accra. For them, I know it’s just a matter of time before they reach the Promised Land, what with the seriousness with which they take not only education, but politics and infrastructural development.
We came down late evening, passed by Rita Marley’s [Bob Marley’s widow] country home and studio, collected the rest of the family who were by then done and exhausted from the shopping and went back to the hotel to prepare for our early morning Arik flight back to Abuja. I can’t conclude this piece without mentioning the state of power supply in Ghana. For the one week we spent at the Reichester, the generators, which I could see from my window, were not put on even once. Need I say more? What came to my mind as we bid farewell to Fred that early morning on the 4th of January 2012 was American film star/politician Arnold Shwatsnegers quote in the movie ‘Terminator’, ‘I will be back’, but adding the words ‘insha Allah’.