Now that we’re constantly on the move there’s a lot more to recount in these blog postings, but there also seems to be a lot less time to do so. Well here goes...

We arranged to visit a village linked with a community tourism NGO on the outskirts of Tamale. The Dutch organisation that ran the project offered various tour options, varying from a few hours in the village to overnight stays. We opted to spend the whole day in the village as this package came with drumming and dancing workshops, and from our experiences in Sirigu we felt workshops like this were well worth doing. When we told the man organising the project that we were from Britain he sighed knowingly and said “our colonial masters.” Its a rather disconcertingly reaction that is happening quite frequently.

The next day we arrived early in the morning at the village and, as is the custom, asked permission from the Chief to look round. We met with a guide and were taken round various different houses to watch local foods being prepared, cotton being spun, and even new born babies being washed! At each stop a portion of our fee was handed out to the villagers involved, so it was good to see that the money really did go directly to the community.

Next stop was a shrine on the outskirts of the village where we had our fortunes told by a soothsayer. Its a profession that changes very little the world over and we were given the usual vague but entirely positive spiel. Both Holly and I are destined to live long and prosperous lives.

After lunch we were told that we’d have to wait a while for the drummers to arrive from another village. It was around this point that we realised the small intimate workshop we’d envisaged was not exactly what was lined up. After several hours of waiting and general organisation we were led back to the Chiefs house where chairs and benches had been laid out under the shade of a tree. We were sat down alongside the Chief and our guide, while a large proportion of the village gathered round and the drumming began. After fifteen minutes or so of drumming dancers in long, very hot looking, ponchos began to emerge into the centre of the gathering.

This was not a workshop at all but a display put on entirely for our benefit. As the men span and danced rhythmically I really did feel like some colonial patron having commissioned a traditional celebration. It was not the most comfortable situation.

The next day it was off to Larabanga a small town on the outskirts of Mole National Park, the biggest and most diverse wildlife reserve in Ghana. We were getting a bus to Larabanga at 6am and had been warned by fellow travellers that you needed to get there an hour or so before if you want to get a ticket. So at 4am we awoke and sleepily made our way to the station only to find that the tickets were sold out. The next bus was not until 2pm and that one made more stops and took considerably longer. So, through some dodgy dealings and heavy “tipping” we managed to get standing tickets on the 6am bus. Luckily Holly managed to get a seat that was left empty for some reason. Four long, bumpy, hours later we arrived in Larabanga. On the journey we met with an American named Philip, so with him in tow we found somewhere to stay and then went to explore the town.

It was another early start the next day as we all decided to rent bicycles and ride to the park in time for the morning walking safari. We set off as the call to prayer started blaring and the sun began to rise. It was a beautiful ride and the park itself was far more impressive than I had expected. There was a look out point with spectacular views out onto a watering hole in the valley below, and as soon as we arrived we began seeing wild Antelope and Deer.

When we arrived for the walking safari the guide was careful to dampen our expectations and say that the animals were all wild and that there was no guarantee that we would see anything. However, a few minutes from the hotel we stumbled upon a huge elephant feeding on the wild mint plants that were all around the area. Then further along we saw warthogs, baboons, and a herd of antelope. I was impressed with the sheer quantity of wild animals considering we were only a few kilometers from sizable settlements. It was definitely worth the hellish journey.

We’re now back in Ejura for a few days of catching up with people and relaxing in the house. Oh, and on the way back from Mole I saw something far more impressive than any elephant or warthog. At a tro-tro station I met a taxi driver with a Droitwich Spa Boys Football top on! I know most old clothes from Europe end up here, but still what are the odds?