Friends and family have heard it before and I’m here to say it again, ‘Sunday is the bane of the independent travelers existence.’ Here is my story. I get in about 830 Saturday night and am greeted by three wonderful Ghanians holding a sign that reads ‘Dr Jay Breitlow’ (which is very nice touch to make a pale white dude in Africa feel welcome). So myself, Gideon, Ace and Humu, hop in the car drive to a big supermarket get some groceries and drive back to my new flat. My flat is hot, quiet, dark and at the moment I have no idea where I am. So I fall asleep pretty tired, wake up at 830AM local time (230AM Madison, WI time) and decide that a) I need money b)I need a cell phone and c) I need internet. I’m armed with an ATM card a pre-paid phone that didn’t have any money/minutes on the phone, which really makes it a no-paid phone for me… oh and did I mention it’s almost dead and I don’t have the charger?
This woman was selling food on a median on a major highway. Note the smog. Photo courtesy of the author
So I do what any respectable white boy does in Africa after being in the country for 12 hours, I hit the road. Expect to find a bank open? Nope, I knew that was nearly impossible, however they do sell phone credits at little shops if one of those might be open. Sunday. Closed. The whole city is closed. People are out mind you, because Sunday in Ghana is the day for the Church and the Savior (signs remind you everywhere of that). I walk about 2.5 miles in 90 degree sun (It was -7 in Madison two days prior) and find an ATM!! Whoops, only Mastercard. Really, who uses MasterCard anymore? So about three miles the other direction I find a gas station, which is open, people need gas to get to church right? The ATM here accepts Visa… Jackpot. I also charge the now prepaid phone up with credits to call mom and let her know I’m safe and I call the Doc I am working with here and leave a message. Oh oh only one bar of power left though. That’s Ok, have legs will travel and at least if the phone rings I know I can talk for a minute or two.
Feevales
Continuing my Sunday stroll, I made a right and followed a sign that I thought would take me to a prime tourist spot. Well next time I know that when the sign also says ‘East Pig Farm’, consider another direction. It had the sterotypical African looking feevales everywhere. Dirt road, clothes on lines, little shops open (still no internet cafes though) and the most perplexed looking Ghanians I’ve seen. In context they were the only ones I had seen, but you get the idea. I was in the wrong neighborhood. To the people’s credit everyone was very nice and to this day I have yet to see a frown or anything other that a smile! I walked around East Pig Farm for about 20 minutes before Doctor Manns called me and said to book it back to the house, because he was taking me to a movie.
First thing he says when I get in the car? ‘White dudes in strange places do strange things. How was your morning, you look hot? When I told him I went to Pig Farm for cash and cell minutes, he nearly lost it. A great day, a great experience and I am looking forward to meeting more wonderful Ghanians in the near future, even if they are in Pig Farm.
