Day 2: Accra

Accra street

Calling Accra a city in the European sense would be misleading. In what is administratively the city center you have dirt roads and goats grazing. It would also be wrong to call it a village as it has over 2 million inhabitants. And yes, you do have paved motor ways connecting the different districts as well as the occasional large building. There are some monuments and public sites – but they are like isolated islands. Outside of the independence square – the large central square in Accra, chickens and goats are roaming freely and you’ll find people living in and running their business from boxes of corrugated metal. There are huge differences in living quality between the districts. In the rich Airport Residential Area the mansions are unbelievably large. For the most part, these are not houses, but palaces. In the poorer districts on the other hand you can have 20+ people living in a small room without water or electricity. You can have one public toilet per several thousand people.

When I woke up the second day, it was in Dzorwulu (pronounced Djoulu), one of the richest districts in town. The houses here for the most part are very large, surrounded with walls and barbed wire and with guards patrolling them. It is the home of the upper middle class of Accra: doctors, lawyers, hotel owners and foreigners. I was going to meet the gang for breakfast in my hotel but as they were late, I went for a walk in the neighborhood. I did not get far before I was defeated by the heat and I retreated back to the air conditioned lobby of the hotel.

Dzorwulu district

After breakfast we took a taxi to the national museum. There are two main ways of transport in Accra: by tro-tro or by taxi. A tro-tro is a minibus or a van packed with people at least two times its capacity. They are notoriously unsafe, uncomfortable and I will not even attempt to describe how they smell. They are also dirt cheap and thus the primary type of transport for Ghanaians in Accra. Taxis are ten to twenty times more expensive, but still extremely cheap by western standards. Most cars in Ghana were made in the late eighties and they are without catcons or any type of filtering so as a rule you have a massive amount of black exhaust gases coming from the cars. The air pollution and smog are quite bad. The number of taxis is simply unbelievable – you can catch one anywhere at any time. And if you are white you get their full and immediate attention – you can’t walk down a street in Accra without the continuous background noise of car horns from taxis trying to get your attention. Traffic in Accra is completely chaotic. There are very few traffic lights and the standard principle of operation is the chicken race – whoever backs down first in a confrontation in a junction has to wait. Needless to say quite often no party backs down and it results in a crash. They are extremely common (I witnessed a number of them during my short stay) but seldom serious as the traffic congestion prevents any higher speeds. The road infrastructure is seriously under dimensioned for the huge number of cars on the streets.

Accra bus/tro-tro (long-distance version)

Our trip to the national museum was however an exception as it was Sunday when most Ghanaians are in church or at home. There was plenty of traffic, but nothing compared to what we would experience on a regular week day.

The national museum was not very interesting but there were large fans in the building that provided welcome cooling. The museum had a collection of archeological artifacts but they were rather unimpressive. Imagine seeing an obviously neolithic item only to find out that it was made in the 19th century. If you are looking for impressive historical achievements and ancient civilization, Africa is the wrong place to look. Before the European colonization the most advanced technology was on an iron age level. There was also an exhibit on slavery but I shall cover that topic later.

After the national museum we decided to go to the famed Makola market. It is a huge market in Accra covering several city blocks and where the Ghanaians do their shopping. On Sunday however the market was closed. There were some locals around obviously finding our presence there amusing. We abandoned Makola for now and decided to go to Oxford Street – the Accra equivalent of the London shopping street with the same name (although the comparison would be very absurd). We went for lunch at Frankie’s - a restaurant with bad western imitation food and Ghanaian quality of service (terrible). We would return to this spot a number of times for one reason: it’s an oasis for westerners. Once you’ve fed up with the heat, the crowds and the constant attention you are getting on the street a break at Frankie’s is pure heaven. It is nicely air conditioned and has a price level that guarantees that only westerners and über-rich Ghanaians can afford it. Accra can be an incredibly intense experience, especially at first, so places like Frankie’s are really needed for a breather from time to time.

After Frankie’s we decided to go to the nearest bus station to get tickets for Cape Cost for the next day. Busses are the main transportation for longer distances in Ghana. They come in three categories – minibuses, larger state owned buses and STC which are larger and (in theory) air conditioned. Most Ghanaians use the minibuses as they are by far the cheapest alternative. Like tro-tros they are notoriously unsafe, over packed and unhygienic. We provided some entertainment for the crowd at the bus station by having the girls buying the tickets while Måns and I stood by and watched. The people in the bus station were laughing, pointing at us and at a advertisement poster saying “Are you a real man?”. Apparently they found it hilarious that Matilda and Julianna were in charge and handling the business.

Me, Matilda and Julianna at Nkrumah Circle

Our next stop was independence square where there was to be a concert starring Luciano, a reggae star that Måns and Matilda wanted to see. The concert was to start 16:00. The guards at the gates told us that the concert would start about 17:30. In reality it started after 22:00. Ghana time is GMT – Ghana Maybe Time. Schedules and time tables are just polite suggestions – vague recommendations that are not really expected to be kept. Westerners that move to Ghana usually have a nervous breakdown over this in the beginning before they accept the African concept of time. It is well illustrated by the South African expression “just now” meaning “soon”, “some time” or even “never”.

Accra Beach

Instead of going in we took a walk in the neighborhood and found an amazing restaurant/bar at a beach resort near the square, the Riviera Beach Club. The view was fantastic and a refreshing breeze cooled us down. We would be returning to this place several times. After spending a few hours there and walking on the beach (tropical paradise style but unfortunately very dirty with garbage everywhere) we decided to go for a bite to a local chop bar.

Lizard not impressed by Piña colada at the Riviera Club.

The chop bar is the standard Ghanaian restaurant. Basically you get a bowl with a soup base and then all sort of things are thrown into it. Traditional ingredients include banku (fermented corn and cassava dough), fufu (cassava and plantain or yam) as well as rice. You eat with your hands.

Måns enjoying a goat soup Ghanaian style

The chop bar we visited was “Asanka Local” that has a reputation for being the best in Accra. As it was Sunday evening the chop bar was practically empty. Måns was brave and tried a proper dish, with a goat soup base and he ate with his hands. The girls and I chose a fish with rice. For me it was love at first taste. No, not the fish and not the rice but the pepper sauce that came with it. It is one of the best things I’ve ever tasted and during the remainder of the stay in Ghana I opted for rice with pepper sauce whenever I had the chance. The peppers in Ghana are better than any that I have ever tasted. The fresh pepper sauce is relatively simple – it contains red peppers, tomato, onions, garlic and oil. The result is brilliant.

After the food we took a taxi back to independence square with the intent of going to the concert (it hadn’t actually started yet). It was there that we met the barbarians at the gates: Pick-pockets and lots of them. Just as we stepped out of the taxi somebody was trying to get into Måns’ back pocket. At the entrance a group managed to box me in and separate me from the others. I felt numerous hands grabbing my pockets while trying to restrict my movement. I had to use physical force to push them away and break through to rejoin the others. This was however the only situation of this kind that I experienced in Ghana. I moved outside at night in Accra, Cape Coast and Elmina without ever feeling threatened in any way. In Accra near Makola market a pick-pocket made an attempt at my back pocket, but this was in broad daylight and the pretty lame attempt failed.

Independence Square by night

The concert itself is probably the only thing I regret going to in Ghana. Luciano never showed up and we were tortured by a talentless hack called John Legend. We returned home after midnight.