Adventure
Ooof, what an adventure getting to Mole and back!
So, I got a bus towards Mole, which stops in a town called Larabanga, 6 kilometers outside of Mole. From chatting with people on the bus, I learned that there is an annual "festival" in Larabanga the next day. Since I wasn't sure if Mole had a bed for me anyway, I got off the bus with the other few travelers to spend the night in the crappiest town in the history of man. A Dutchman, an American girl and I went to the "guest house" where the American girl's Slovenian friend was living. At this point, the pity of the Slovenians begins in dusty,dusty Larabanga. The poor Slovenian was fed just rice by her host family at night and bread in the morning. There was no running water (just a barrel of rain water) and the toilet was a hole in the ground. The Slovenian had no computer, tv or any entertainment. The worst aspect of the town is that they play dance music until 4 in the morning and start again at 6 in the morning that literally shakes her rat infested cement home. The Dutchman, American girl and I slept on the roof after eating white rice for dinner. I taught the others my trick of shoving wet toilet paper in my ear. I was so tired, I actually slept a good four or five hours through the music, but the Dutchman and the American girl didn't sleep at all. The Slovenian, as well, couldn't sleep.
I was awoken in the morning by a strange boy who was excited about the festival. "Today," he said "Larabanga will be like Accra." At the time, I was skeptical, but eventually realized the kid was delusional. I also wondered how and why some stranger kid walked into a house that wasn't his and climbed on the roof just to tell a foreigner about the festival. Went walked to see the sights of town. First, we saw their magic stone, which is sacred, but can be photographed for 50 cents. The magic stone was moved to straighten the road, but somehow returned the next day to the same spot. Then, a woman crashed her car, only to survive unharmed near the rock. Then, were taken to the town's magic mud puddle (diameter 2 yards), which women were drinking from. We were told that the festival would begin at 10:30 so we headed to the oldest mosque in west Africa, along with the 30 children we had accumulated along the way.
Nick warned me about Ghanayan festivals. "A festival is standing around," he warned. The oldest Quran in west Africa was being brought to the oldest Mosque in west Africa. People came as far as Nigeria to see it. We were warned not to take any pictures about 8 times by the clerics because the Quran was "mega-Sacred." We waited from 10:30 and, finally, after 1, the Imam and the Quran arrived, covered in blankets. There was about 300 people standing around to see this event. And that was it.
So, we walked to Mole (it was nice to leave Larabanga) and went on the tour. We saw some elephants, baboons, warthogs, green monkeys, cobbs, Guinea fowl. It was nice, but we were starving. After getting back to the Mole gust house, I ordered some curried chicken and a coke, went for a dip in the dirty pool and relaxed. Mole was brief, but very nice, especially after spending a day in the worst village ever. A slept until 4 am when we had to catch the bus back to Tamale.
Halfway down 100 km dirt road from Mole to the highway that goes to Tamale, a bus blocked the road. It was clearly trying to turn around and got stuck in a ditch. The Ghanayans were having no luck trying to put tree limbs and rocks under its tires to get it out. Other minivans tried to go around and got stuck. Soon, it was a pile up of stuck vehicles. It was so ridiculous that even the Ghanayans on the bus were laughing.
50 km from anything, stuck in the middle of a dirt highway under the hot sun in the middle of Africa. Still, we couldn't go back to Larabanga. So, we started walking and left behind the hundreds of stranded Ghanayans. Luckily, one the buses (not ours), off-roaded it around all of the pile up. They picked us up on the other side of the mess and we road to Tamale. Success! Incredible! It was a cramped ride in which a Guinea fowl crapped all over me, but I was happy to make it back to crappy, crappy Tamale.
So, I got a bus towards Mole, which stops in a town called Larabanga, 6 kilometers outside of Mole. From chatting with people on the bus, I learned that there is an annual "festival" in Larabanga the next day. Since I wasn't sure if Mole had a bed for me anyway, I got off the bus with the other few travelers to spend the night in the crappiest town in the history of man. A Dutchman, an American girl and I went to the "guest house" where the American girl's Slovenian friend was living. At this point, the pity of the Slovenians begins in dusty,dusty Larabanga. The poor Slovenian was fed just rice by her host family at night and bread in the morning. There was no running water (just a barrel of rain water) and the toilet was a hole in the ground. The Slovenian had no computer, tv or any entertainment. The worst aspect of the town is that they play dance music until 4 in the morning and start again at 6 in the morning that literally shakes her rat infested cement home. The Dutchman, American girl and I slept on the roof after eating white rice for dinner. I taught the others my trick of shoving wet toilet paper in my ear. I was so tired, I actually slept a good four or five hours through the music, but the Dutchman and the American girl didn't sleep at all. The Slovenian, as well, couldn't sleep.
I was awoken in the morning by a strange boy who was excited about the festival. "Today," he said "Larabanga will be like Accra." At the time, I was skeptical, but eventually realized the kid was delusional. I also wondered how and why some stranger kid walked into a house that wasn't his and climbed on the roof just to tell a foreigner about the festival. Went walked to see the sights of town. First, we saw their magic stone, which is sacred, but can be photographed for 50 cents. The magic stone was moved to straighten the road, but somehow returned the next day to the same spot. Then, a woman crashed her car, only to survive unharmed near the rock. Then, were taken to the town's magic mud puddle (diameter 2 yards), which women were drinking from. We were told that the festival would begin at 10:30 so we headed to the oldest mosque in west Africa, along with the 30 children we had accumulated along the way.
Nick warned me about Ghanayan festivals. "A festival is standing around," he warned. The oldest Quran in west Africa was being brought to the oldest Mosque in west Africa. People came as far as Nigeria to see it. We were warned not to take any pictures about 8 times by the clerics because the Quran was "mega-Sacred." We waited from 10:30 and, finally, after 1, the Imam and the Quran arrived, covered in blankets. There was about 300 people standing around to see this event. And that was it.
So, we walked to Mole (it was nice to leave Larabanga) and went on the tour. We saw some elephants, baboons, warthogs, green monkeys, cobbs, Guinea fowl. It was nice, but we were starving. After getting back to the Mole gust house, I ordered some curried chicken and a coke, went for a dip in the dirty pool and relaxed. Mole was brief, but very nice, especially after spending a day in the worst village ever. A slept until 4 am when we had to catch the bus back to Tamale.
Halfway down 100 km dirt road from Mole to the highway that goes to Tamale, a bus blocked the road. It was clearly trying to turn around and got stuck in a ditch. The Ghanayans were having no luck trying to put tree limbs and rocks under its tires to get it out. Other minivans tried to go around and got stuck. Soon, it was a pile up of stuck vehicles. It was so ridiculous that even the Ghanayans on the bus were laughing.
50 km from anything, stuck in the middle of a dirt highway under the hot sun in the middle of Africa. Still, we couldn't go back to Larabanga. So, we started walking and left behind the hundreds of stranded Ghanayans. Luckily, one the buses (not ours), off-roaded it around all of the pile up. They picked us up on the other side of the mess and we road to Tamale. Success! Incredible! It was a cramped ride in which a Guinea fowl crapped all over me, but I was happy to make it back to crappy, crappy Tamale.
posted by American Dilettante at
8:15 AM
1 Comments:
sounds like an AWESOME time, hahahahahahahaha
By
Vicariously Normal, at 7:55 AM
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