Africa | Ghana | Accra – Tales from the streets
You should have seen me yesterday and today. Walking in the street, smiling to myself and singing in my head Franks Sinatra’s song (I think its his) I’m in heaven.
I know it is very hard to explain what is so fun in the terrible crowdness, sweaty people, old cars (most of them are already in the state of clinical death), horning without stop, everyone on the streets tries to sell you something, unbearable humidity (constantly over 80%), poverty and air pollution. Even the bug infested bed and cold shower I accept with love.
On the other hand, just the fact that everyone on the street is smiling from ear to ear, true laughter the one that comes from deep inside and rolls out is heard every where and people that go out of their way to help makes it all worth while. If they can accept their daily reality with so much love and smiles, than me who comes for a short time and then goes back to the relative comfort of eastern life, can not love it?
Just an example and Ill leave you alone with this topic. I took a taxi and the car in front of us, every time it hit the breaks the car would start sliding in all directions on the road. The taxi driver started to laugh so hard that I just couldnt stop myself from laughing with him. We were both laughing for more than 10 min. just from this stupid incident. He continued way after I stopped. In Israel people would long a go have given you the middle finger for driving like that.
You didnt feel but I left you for 20 minutes. As if to give me another reason I suddenly heard singing from the street below. A group of about 50 boys was walking/dancing in the street, common you know just like in the movies when you see the Africans demonstrating through singing and dancing, so I walked behind them till the end of the street. In the west they burn tyres in demonstrations (then who is more ¨cultural¨ than who?).
For people who like street food, like me, the streets of Accra are another reason to sing ¨I’m in Heaven¨. On every corner there are stalls selling food. From bread with margarine to chicken and fish with rice. For breakfast, for example, I sat on the wooden bench of a Mama and she made me a sandwich from home made bread with onion and tomato omelet and a cup of Nescafe in a horrible plastic cup. True, not to hygienic but maybe that is why it tastes so good. Tomorrow I’ll try the white thick mixture she called porridge.
I would have described to you a few other things I tried throughout the day but not only that I dont know what I ate, even to describe it I cant. Its clear to me that the diary will come some time soon. Its always part of the price one needs to pay for eating on the streets but even that I accept with love (2 bananas solve the problem almost immediately for me. It works so good that if I took the whole banana and plug the ¨hole¨ with it, I wouldnt have received a better result).
Ok, with this cheerful description Ill leave you for today.