Big Millie's Backyard:
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| Big Millie's Backyard |
The best thing about the beach in general is that the cool breeze coming off the water is a nice respite from the oppressive heat of Buduburam, Aboansah, and Accra. The ocean can be dangerous though, so it's best not to swim out too far. The wicked undertow pulled two men under and drowned them not three weeks ago. I could feel the force of this current as I walked into the water; it rips the sand right out from under your feet. The salt water stung my eyes and threatened the future of my contacts so I didn't really test the waters (no pun intended), but I did wade out far enough to get a sense of just how easy it would be to make a 10-feet-too-far mistake.
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| The beach at Big Millie's |
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| Can you see that wind? |
On the beach there are artisans selling beautiful carved masks, bags, jewelry, tapestries, pipes, bowls, musical instruments, dresses--you name it! Closer to the water little kids run around playing soccer and, when they get too hot, quickly drop their clothes and run into the ocean. They spend a lot of time diving into incoming waves or they grab a plank of wood and use it as a body board.
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| The artisans peddling their wares on the beach |
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| Looking through the market to the beach |
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| Some Ghanaian boys playing on the beach |
After lunch, the PCO staff I'd traveled there with left to head back to Buduburam, and I decided to take a bath. I had to draw my own water from the reservoir, which is like a well except it is about 6' by 6' with a 2' by 2' openning with a wooden "lid." I set all of my stuff down, drew enough water to take my shower, replaced the lid, and drug the heavy buckets about 50 yards to the shower. No sooner did I finish my shower did I realize that I could not find my key. I am panicking. "What if I can't get into my room? My money is in there! My passport is in there! Where will I sleep? Oh my god!" So I looked in the shower, retraced my steps from the shower to the reservoir (I was 100% positive that I had it when I got to the reservoir), and I look all around the reservoir--no key. I do all of this again--still no key. Finally I walked shame-faced up to the reception hut and asked if someone turned in a key. Nope, no key! Noah, the guy at the reception desk, rolled his eyes but got up to help me. He did the same thing I did: looked between the shower and reservoir, looked around the reservoir, etc. only his funt was punctuated by a few sighs and eye rolls. After some time he openned the reservoir to look in it for my key. I was laughing. "No, no," I'm thinking, "The key is not in there--no way!" I was in the process of telling him all of the reasons why I knew it could not be in there while thinking, "Please God, do not let it be in there." And then suddenly, he points and nods. "Yes," he says, "The key is in there." I am absolutely mortified--slightly relieved--but mostly mortified.
Noah called to two others and they started trying to maneuver the key into the well bucket with the hose--no luck. I'm apologizing profusely. The key was on a keychain and finally one guy had the great idea to hammer a nail into a piece of wood and fish it out that way. I thanked him and, of course, apologized again. He then asked me where I am from and when I told him that I am from the US he said, "Oh, it's no problem. I want to go to America. I do this for you." I laughed and thanked him. "Do you know Texas?" he said. "Yes," I replied, "I grew up near Texas." He said, "Beautiful place, Texas. I will go there when I move to America!" (Everyone talks about "when they move to America" here.) I have an incredible disdain for Texas both from the Texas kids moving into the Louisiana school system and constantly telling us how much better the schools are in Texas (true, but who wants to hear that 24/7?) and from my own travels in Texas. The exception is Austin. Austin is awesome. I asked him why Texas and he told me that he saw it in a movie. And then "You know O-I-O?" "Ohio?" I said. He answered, "Yeah, Ohio! When I move to America, I will go there, Texas or Ohio." At that point he had finished constructing his instrument and quickly fished out my key. I thanked him and walked back to my room relieved. That night I got dressed for dinner thinking, "Texas and Ohio? What?!" and meditating on the words of Jon Stewart:
"Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn't the promised land...Sometimes it's just New Jersey."
I didn't have the heart to tell him.
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