Greetings from Tamale, Ghana!

Hello all! I was a little late getting this blog going so there is a lot to catch up on. I have been in Ghana for a little more than a week. It took ~72 hours to get here, which is a little high because I had an extra red-eye flight from the West Coast to NY that most people wouldn’t have. Another red-eye later and I was in London, then it was one more quick seven-hour flight to Accra, Ghana. Even though we landed at 11 p.m. local time it was 90 degrees outside, which was a bit of a shock compared to London.

Just as a point of reference, Ghana is located here in Africa.

On the flight into Accra I did have one interesting experience. In the short amount of time between naps, I talked a little to the woman next to me, who I quickly found out was Ghanaian. She asked about my reason for coming to Ghana, to which I replied that I was studying water in the North. I told her the name of the town I was going to and asked if she had ever seen it. She quickly replied, “I don’t go into the Northern parts” and proceeded to tell me that I should expect to feel “very close to nature.”

I remained undeterred.

We had to get up early the next morning to catch an 8 a.m. bus to take us to the North. Thankfully I slept well the night before (and thoroughly enjoyed my first shower since leaving the U.S.), because it turned into a 13-hour ordeal. Legroom on the bus was very limited, so I could only sit completely upright, which made it nearly impossible to fall asleep. They also played locally made films named “American Husband,” “Family Crisis,” “Family Crisis 2,” and another one I can’t remember right now. Even without understanding a lot of the dialog (it took me a little while to adjust to their accents), I got the gist. The movies are pretty hard to watch in comparison to what we’re used to, but they seemed especially tiresome considering the long trip and lack of sleep.

We arrived well into the night and unloaded all our bags. It was very crowded and hectic at the bus station. These two guys started grabbing our luggage and gesturing for us to come with them. I had heard taxi drivers can be pretty aggressive, so I grabbed one of the bags that one guy was carrying and yelled at him to put it down. I found out a few minutes later that he was our guide and had been sent by our advisor. I felt like a jerk. He knew who we were, because we were the only white people there and certainly the only ones in a nine-person group.

Susan Murcott (our research advisor) bought a new flatbed pickup truck to help us get around. It’s a lot of fun to use, especially since the taxi service here is a little complicated. There are taxis everywhere in our town; I’d say they represent at least 1/3 of all the cars. However, the system here is a lot different than in the U.S. First of all, you should ask them where they are going. If they happen to be going in the direction you’re heading and you can negotiate, then it’s a lot cheaper. If you just get in and say a place, then you are asking to get ripped off. There are no electronic meters, so you bargain before you depart. After overpaying many times I think I’m getting it down a little better.

It’s getting late and I am going to head back home. The mosquitoes that carry malaria come out at night, so it’s a good idea to be inside, especially since I’m probably the first thing they see in the dark.