My, it is simply indescribable, the stark contrast that we saw between the fishing village and the hotel we had just come from, separated by mere steps. While our hotel was fully equipped with air conditioning, plumbing and running water, electricity, and even WiFi internet, the families in the fishing village lived without any of these things. Here is their bathroom and toilet:
a hole in the ground that drains to the sea. To shower, they carry buckets of water from another source. It was truly humbling to see that a family and a village was nearly self-sustaining, having none of the things that we so “need” in our own world.
What truly amazed me were the techniques that the village folk had engineered to build their homes, net fish in the ocean, and preserve the fish caught – the essence of their livelihood.
In the initial steps of home construction, pillars are placed in holes dug two-feet deep, and are joined by a network of straight branches, which serve as the foundation for the walls. The spaces in between the branches are filled with a mixture of mud, rocks, and occasionally shells to create a barrier between the inhabitants and the outside elements. The roof, which was what I personally found most impressive, is made of grasses found nearby, and if well constructed, can keep out rain and water for over ten years!
The villagers use nets to catch fish, some well over 100 ft long and carried by 15 men. The women are in charge of the net after the catch – picking out and cleaning the fish in preparation for preservation.
The fish are laid in a single layer upon a wire mesh within a wooden frame, and up to ten of these racks are stacked above a hearth fire with coconut husk and sugar cane for kindle. This drying process is alternated twice with a smoking process, each step of which can take thirty minutes to twenty hours. Once dried and smoked twice, the fish have been preserved and are ready for storage of up to six months without worries of spoilage.
As Linus walked us through his village, sharing with us the routines of his people’s lives, we were surrounded by a dozen village children who were eager to genuinely befriend us.
They asked of us our names, took our hands, and wrapped their arms around our bodies as we listened to Linus’s stories. Even as my body sweated against the children’s in the hot midday sun, and as they ran their fingers through my long alien hair (for hygiene reasons, women rarely grow out their hair) and touched my foreign jewelry with scrupulous inspection, I felt profusely grateful for the intensity of their generous and immediately genuine love. It was love the way I imagine Jesus giving it, no questions asked.
We shared a morning, immersed in the life of the village, and a few of the mothers taught us how to carry a baby on our backs with just a piece of cloth, while others found delight in our struggle with balancing objects on our heads, a truly natural African talent.
After this incredible exchange of smiles and cultures, we bid our new friends goodbye and headed to the Kakum National Park canopy bridges. We doused ourselves in mosquito repellent before taking the walk into the jungle, to the soundtrack of exotic birds and critters, and protected from the sun by the canopy of leaves up above. Today was a national holiday in Ghana, and as no one was at work or school, the masses flocked to Kakum, just as we had.
We had not planned for this, and as we stood en queue amongst a highly energized crowd, waiting to teeter across the 150-foot high bridge, we became admittedly nervous, and questioned our desires to actually cross the bridge. We waited. And waited and waited. Then, we waited some more. Finally, it came our turn to cross the bridge (thankfully only five at a time!), and my heart was racing the entire time!
I had not even the nerve to take my hands from the hand-ropes to snap a few pictures, so these are ones I stole from Cassie and Christina!
We crossed a succession of three rope bridges, and by the time we stepped back onto solid ground, my legs had become jelly. What an adventure! With hungry stomachs, we hiked out of the jungle at nearly five o’clock in the afternoon.
We enjoyed our swamp-side lunch in the company of crocodiles almost as hungry as we were, and soon night had fallen upon us.
Now, it’s a quiet and pensive ride back to the capital city of Accra on our bumpy little bus. We smell of mosquito repellent and fish, and are excited to shower and retire for the night, resting up for our first day of work tomorrow at Korle-Bu Hospital! Exciting!
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