Guest Author: Jordan Taylor
Buckle your seatbelts. These notes are longer than usual and have some content that is not for the squeamish.
The hotel accommodations in Tamale were good, quite a step up from those at Mole. Still, there were some things that did not quite measure up to what we have in the US. I have never slept on a bed that was so hard. I described it to Lindsay as a slightly squishy piece of plywood. We tossed and turned all night trying to keep our limbs from falling asleep. After talking with Mom, it was determined that the mattresses were not mattresses but box springs. We could feel each of the springs. The refrigerator was another question mark. It worked perfectly fine, but when we opened the door, it reeked of mothballs. Lindsay refused to put her water bottle in the refrigerator, but I put a spare bottle of water in the freezer because I knew that we would need it on our trip to Bolgatanga. Charity was lucky; she had a hot pot in her room and she had taken up the instant coffee and coffee creamer that we did not use for breakfast at Mole. She was anticipating a nice hot cup of coffee. She did not have any sugar for her coffee, but she had a Worther’s Original caramel which she was going to use to sweeten her coffee. When she tried to plug in the hot pot, she realized that it did not have a plug on the end of the cord; the bare wires were hanging out. Mom was able to hold the wires in the outlet socket long enough for the water to boil. Charity said the coffee tasted like plastic, but she drank it anyway.
Our plan was to leave out at 6:30 AM and spend the day driving 3 hours to Bolgatanga, shopping and visiting the attractions, and then driving 5 hours back to Yendi. We managed to do most of those things, but we had some speed bumps—figuratively and literally—along the way.
Thursday night and Friday morning, I had experienced some intestinal abnormalities that I was able to overcome pretty easily. Lindsay had developed some similar issues Friday night, and they continued into Saturday morning. This meant we had to push our departure time back; we left shortly after 8:00 AM. During that time, Mom and Dad went into town to get some more effective medicine for our ailments. Nevertheless, Lindsay continued to deal with some nausea and stomach pain.
We loaded up the van. As we were about to depart, Mom and Dad’s friend Varsa, who manages the hotel with her husband, brought us some of the delicious hand-made mango juice we had enjoyed at the hotel restaurant the night before. We said farewell and hit the road.
Dad drove us from the hotel to the outskirts of Tamale, and then I took over and drove to the village before Bolgatanga. Faith was my copilot. We had to keep an eye out for potholes, speed bumps, check points, barriers, and anything that would hinder our driving. On our trip yesterday from Mole Game Reserve to Tamale, I was stopped 3 times at police checkpoints to verify my driver’s license. Mom told me that I would need an International Driver’s license, and I sure was glad that I had gotten one. Now please give me a moment to complain about the speed bumps. Ghana’s speed bumps are more significant and more plentiful than those in the States. The speed bumps span the full length of the road and are probably 10 feet long. But they range in height from 6 inches to 15 inches and are in varying states of disrepair. This makes each bump a wildcard, and they seriously impede our progress. I have found that they are comfortable to traverse at 20 KPH (12.5 MPH). That would not be too bad if they were few and far between, but my copilot and I counted 87 speed bumps from Mole to Tamale yesterday. We thought this number was going to be hard to beat, but on our 4-hour trip from Tamale to Bolgatanga today, we had to slow down and creep over 119!
We arrived in Bolgatanga shortly after noon. Our first stop was the Pikworo Slave Camp. The slave camp was interesting. The area is unusual in that it is made of several hilly, stony outcroppings with short trees growing among hills. The guide said that the slaves were shackled to the trees. The slaves’ water source was a stagnant pool of spring water in the crevice at the top of a rock hill. Large sections of the top of the rock had numerous 1-foot long oval bowl shapes that had been carved into the rock for the slaves to use as bowls. Mom said that other guides had reported that the holes were worn in the rocks from grinding corn for the slaves. We were shown the large boulders that the slave raiders used as a lookout point, the punishment stone, and markers of the mass graves where they buried those who died before they could start the 400-mile walk from the camp to the coast, a journey that took 50 to 60 days.
At this point the heat and Lindsay’s fatigue caught up with her. We hurried on to our next point of interest which was the Paga Crocodile pond that was just a few minutes away. Mom said the people that live around in Paga believe that the crocodiles that live in the pond are their ancestors. They think that it is good luck if a crocodile comes into their compound, makes a nest, and lays her eggs. They will also give a crocodile that dies a full funeral just like they give their own family member. The crocodiles in this pond are relatively tame. They have been trained to come out onto the bank to be fed. The crocodile caregivers entice them out with small live chickens and chicks. We bought one of each. The caregivers shake the chickens so their squawking will attract the crocodile and come out onto the bank. The man that was shaking the chicken shook it so hard that its squawking got fainter and fainter until it died. This broke Faith’s heart and brought a tear to her eye; I was afraid she was not going to be able to let them feed the crocodile. The crocodile they lured was the largest in the pond. When it came out of the water, he stood with his mouth open patiently waiting for the chicken to be thrown into his mouth. While he is waiting, visitors can squat over the back of the crocodile and hold his tail while someone takes their picture. Faith was the first to get her picture made. Charity was next, but when Charity approached the crocodile, it swung its head around to see her and she decided this activity was not for her, and she moved far away from the crocodile. I, however, had no desire to get close to a crocodile. I fear them similar to the way I fear God: I respect their strength and know there is nothing I can do if they decide to act against me. I kept a healthy distance atop the hill surrounding the pond and watched under the shade of a mango tree. Since we had bought 2 chickens, the caregivers wanted us to get our money’s worth, so Kandie took her turn getting her picture made. Mom and Faith said the crocodile smelled like the inside of a bait bucket after the minnows had died. I think I made a wise choice keeping my distance.
We had intended to go shopping in Bolgatanga, but due to our delayed start and longer than expected commute because of all those speed bumps, we aborted the shopping portion of our trip and headed back to Yendi.
A few minutes into the drive, Lindsay’s stomach took a turn for the worse. I was driving, so I could do little except quickly pull to the side of the road. She was given a plastic bag only to discover that it had a hole in it; 2 more plastic bags were added. She felt a little better and lay back down to rest. I did my best to keep those 119 speed bumps from jostling her too much.
This time my copilot Faith and I decided to count the number of security checkpoints. Not all of the checkpoints are staffed, but they all require slowing down and sometimes stopping because the road is half blocked with security gates. We passed through 27 check points during our 3 ½ hour drive. Sometimes the checkpoints are not even 1 mile apart. How much illegal activity can happen within 1 mile when there is no access road in between?
As we neared Tamale, we decided it was time for Dad to take over the driving because he knows where he is going in the cities. When we got out to change drivers, he noticed that the back driver-side wheel was low. Just a few minutes down the road we found a vulcanizer (tire repair) shack with an air compressor. The tire had an inch-and-a-half long bolt in it. It took just a few minutes for the teenage boy to take off the tire, remove the bolt, do the patching, air up the tire, and put it back on the van. While the tire was being repaired, the girls needed to use the bathroom, so they pulled out a bed sheet, made a blind for themselves to shield from onlookers driving down the road, and took a potty break. When they got back in the car, they discovered some leaky bags that turned out to be from Lindsay, which they had neglected to discard . Mom had discovered some water on the floor and had wondered where it came from. This solved the mystery!
Once we were back on the road we contemplated spending the night in Tamale because it was getting late. Mom and Dad do not like to drive on the road to Yendi after dark because there is a section of the road that is notorious for having nighttime robberies. Dad said that it was still early enough to travel, and everyone was anxious to get back to the mission house and sleep in more comfortable beds, so we decided to drive on to Yendi.
At 7:45pm we caught sight of the Yendi lights; it was a comforting sight and we were thankful that the day was finally coming to an end and everyone was safe. Lindsay said she had been feeling better from dozing during the course of the 6-hour ride home.
Because we didn’t have time to stop for food in Tamale, Mom whipped up some hamburgers from meat she and Dad had ground previously. We finally sat down to eat at 9:00 PM.
It has been a long day, so everyone is ready to go to bed in a reasonably comfortable bed.
Continue to pray for us.
In His Service,
Stephen and Kandie
Jordan and Lindsay
Charity and Faith
