Getting mugged and getting hungry

Wednesday 22nd July

Today I was back at the Daily Guide, and was told by Sarah to get there for 9am. At 9am I arrived at the office to find someone that also works there, but no sign of Sarah. Luckily I had brought a book with me, so I could read for the hour and a half before Sarah eventually turned up, without explanation of course. She wrote down a list of questions and a name and told me to go to the police station, find this person and ask her the questions then come back. So off in a taxi I went to Ghana Police Station. The Central Regional headquarters are not exactly brilliant. I was chatted up by a policeman walking up the drive, then when I got to what was presumably the reception there were about six policemen just stood around doing absolutely nothing, and there was no place for anyone to sit. My main thought was that I would hate to have to come here as a victim of crime. After asking for Madam Felicia Ayisu, I was taken to another room to wait for a few minutes before I was taken to her office. Madam Ayisu claimed to have no idea who I was, despite the fact Sarah had rung her about 15 minutes previously, and said she would not answer my questions until she was officially introduced to me by Sarah. I rung up Sarah and explained what had happened. Ten minutes later she called me back to inform me that Madam Ayisu would not be answering my questions, and she had nothing else for me to do so I might as well go home. I was fairly unimpressed.
On the way home I bumped into Eric, who asked me if I wanted to come along with the volunteers doing the HIV project with a view to writing a story about it. I had nothing better to do so I was more than willing to come along. First we had to pick up some of the volunteers from a school where they were doing the Outreach project. Basically they go to schools and clean and dress the wounds of the children. I got my camera out to take some pictures of the children, who at this point went completely crazy. They were so desperate to be in the photo that they were all pushing each other out of the way, and at one point a mini scuffle broke out. I quickly took a few pictures then put my camera away. At the next school for the HIV project, I observed Emily's HIV presentation. She was teaching the boys about how you can and cannot contract the virus, how HIV progresses and what you can do to prevent yourself from catching the virus. The boys were very impressed by Emily's application of a condom on to a wooden penis.
That evening, we went to out usual beachside hangout for food and a couple of drinks as it was Joe and Harriet's last night in Cape Coast. I was sticking to my new budget so only had one drink. At midnight Emily, Joe, Harriet, Kieran and I left to get a taxi home, but there weren't any outside so we walked a bit further along the road to where we knew there would be taxis. The road was well lit, and there were still plenty of people around, but there was a short section of about ten metres where there were a lot of shadows and I couldn't see any people. The five of us were in a line, with me on the far left. Just ahead I could see a person in the shadows. Instinctively I checked that my bag was across my shoulder and zipped up, put my arm across it and looked straight ahead as I continued walking. A few seconds later I could see him approaching, I grabbed hold of my bag then he came up to me and tried to snatch my bag. He forcefully continued to tug until the strap broke and he ripped the bag from my hand, and it was the pain that caused me to scream. All this happened in a matter of seconds, so by the time everyone realised the man was already running away. Joe started to run after him but soon realised chasing a mugger down an alley in the dark was probably a bad move. We quickly walked up the road to where the taxis were, which was less than 100m away. As we walked to the taxi my hands were shaking. Once safely inside the taxi the shock subsided and I realised just how much my hand was hurting, so distracted myself by working out exactly what was in the bag.
1. My Ghana phone, which was only worth about 20 pounds.
2. Some Benefit make up that I had bought in duty free on the way out here. Annoying to lose, but easy to replace.
3. My purse. It was only my Ghana purse so had no cards or anything in it, and as I had only been taking out with me what I planned to spend that day there was only about ten pounds worth of currency in it. Unfortunately the purse also contained the key to my suitcase, so I would be unable to unlock it when I got back.\
4. My camera. I had planned on buying a new camera the next time I went away as this one was starting to break, but it wasn't the camera itself I was concerned with. I'd spent ages earlier in the day looking through my pictures, and realised I had over 300 photos from my first three weeks in Ghana. And now I'd never be able to prove I'd seen Barack Obama!
When we got in, we looked at my hand. When the mugger had torn my bag from me, the material from the handle had ripped the skin between my middle and ring finger and ripped some skin at the top of my palm. Luckily my medic friends had their kits from Outreach, so cleaned the skin with some violet stuff that dyed my whole hand blue and then bandaged me up. We then went to wake up Eric. His response was typically sympathetic- he spent ten minutes telling me that I had walked the wrong route to get a taxi, although someone had actually had a knife pulled on them last week on the alternative path that he had suggested. At no point did he ask if I was ok. Tired, a bit upset but mainly very pissed off, I went to bed.

Thursday 23rd July

After an hour or two spent skulking around in my pyjamas as I was unable to get into my suitcase, Eric finally had time to break open the lock on my suitcase so I could retrieve my underwear and get dressed. As we were about to leave for the police station, I asked if there was anything I needed to take with me. Eric said no, so I did not take anything apart from myself. Once at the police station, Eric quickly explained the situation to one of the same policemen standing around that I had seen the previous day, and I was told to wait to be seen. For some reason the reception had no seats whatsoever, but there was one bench outside which I went and sat on. Eric then announced he was off to the bank so when I was finished I should get a taxi home. When I pointed out that he had told me I didn't need to bring anything out with me, he gave me the taxi fare and was off.
I can't say I was particularly impressed at being dumped on a bench at a police station with no idea what was going on or how long I would be there. I sat on the bench sniffling, mainly because I had developed a cold but partly because I was trying not to burst into tears, when the lady on the bench next to me offered me a tissue. We got chatting, and I learnt that she was from Nigeria and was in Ghana visiting her father, who joined us on the bench and turned out to be the editor of the local newspaper. If only I had met him earlier, I would have tried to wrangle a placement with him! They were both lovely and seemed genuinely concerned about how I was, and chatting them for the 45 minutes that I was waiting to be seen made the experience a lot more bearable as well as making me realise that there are a lot of genuinely warm and friendly people in Ghana.
Eventually Eric returned, spoke to the policeman, and I was told to explain what had happened. Nobody seemed that bothered, and Eric explained that I just needed a report to claim on my insurance. He then left again for Accra.
Fortunately, it was at this point that Salem turned up. A Lebanese businessman based in Ghana, Salem looks out for all the volunteers based in Cape Coast. This unofficial arrangement, with a man in his late thirties befriending young volunteers, seems very strange to anyone on the outside and I must admit I had always been slightly suspicious of Salem. However, I was incredibly grateful that he had come to the police station after one of the other volunteers had told him what had happened. He knew the head of the police station, and soon everyone was suddenly slightly more concerned about what had happened- particularly the fact that my hand had been slightly injured in the mugging. I was taken to the head of crime investigation to explain what had happened, then taken to someone else to make an official statement. At this point Salem had turned to leave, so I was now alone again.
I filled in a witness statement form, which included my name, age, address, phone number and statement. As I now had no phone, I thought it would be fairly reasonable to leave the phone number section blank. The policeman with me pointed to the phone number section and asked for my number "so I can call you." Resisting the urge to explain that in Britain if a policeman chatted up a victim of crime it would be seen as sexual harrassment, I instead reminded him I was there because someone had stolen my bag, which contained my phone. "Do you not know your number from memory?" was his response. I gave up. He then asked me if I would marry a black man, to which I replied that I had no idea who I would marry, let alone what colour they would be. This apparently meant that my parents were racist. Another policeman came along and had a look over my statement. I thought he was checking everything had been filled in correctly, but no. He pointed at my age and said "that's good." When I asked why, he replied, "you are 20, I am 25. We can get married." After being driven to the scene of the crime to point out the exact spot where I was mugged, I was finally allowed to leave, and told to return on Monday to collect the police report.
Back at the house, it turned out today was the day we would be having our Ghanaian drumming lessons. As I couldn't even slightly move my left hand without pieces of raw flesh rubbing together, I thought it was best to sit it out.
After the drumming was over, a few of us went into town. I decided to cheer myself up with a visit to Francesca, the lady who made beautiful jewellery. When she saw my hand she asked what had happened and I explained about the mugging. She seemed quite outraged and repeatedly apologised, saying that these bad people were ruining Ghana. I was touched by how genuinely appalled and concerned for me she was, but her reaction was nothing compared to Lydia, the lady who makes clothes for us. She seemed so upset for me I thought she was going to cry! Whilst I was away at the weekend she even called me to make sure I was ok. I tried to reassure Lydia that I was ok, and explained that her coming round had made my day. I wasn't lying- she had brought with her three finished dresses for me and I loved them. I've spent more on fabric and dressmaking than anything else since I've been here! I spent the rest of the evening having a relaxed night in with the girls and big Kieran.

Friday 24th July

I started the day by attempting to organise my life at the internet cafe, but yet again was thwarted by Ghanaian technology. I came back to the house and went all motherly by making sandwiches for everyone to eat on our trip to Beyin. When Emily and Kirsty returned from placement, we got a taxi to the tro station where we met Fatima and Nicola. We then got a tro-tro from Cape Coast to Takoradi, and another from Takoradi to Beyin. The journey took less than four hours and was surprisingly uneventful! We were staying in Beyin Beach Resort, a place with great views and an even better menu. We were all practically drooling when we clapped eyes on the menu and saw what was on offer. I went for jacket potato with cheese followed by chocolate brownies, and it was amazing. I went to bed feeling full for the first time since coming to Ghana.

Saturday 25th July

In the morning we went on a canoe ride to see a village on stilts. Having paid for our tickets for the canoe ride, tour of the village and use of our camera we were somewhat surprised when the man paddling our canoe spent the first 20 minutes of our canoe ride telling us that we needed to tip him. The stilt village was pretty impressive- it it literally a village built on stilts above a river- but it was fairly irritating being sat down with the expectation of making a donation to the village. This was not quite as annoying as being conned in to paying extra for a 'crocodile tour' in which there were no actual crocodiles. On the way back, our guide spent a few minutes reiterating the need to tip before spending half an hour telling us about his desire for a white wife. Luckily for us, England was one of his top four countries to get a wife from, so at this point I quickly upgraded my fictional boyfriend to husband status. He continued to tell us about his desire for a white wife until his lack of concentration caused him to crash the canoe into the bank. The small leak in our canoe was now a major issue, so Nicola, Emily and I spent the rest of the canoe ride scooping out water to prevent us from sinking.
We spent the rest of the day walking along the beach, where we saw a herd of cows. It would appear that cows enjoy a casual stroll along the beach as much as the rest of us. We then spent the evening playing monopoly, which as ever became a little too serious and dragged on way too long, so I was glad when I went bankrupt and could go to bed!

Sunday 26th July

In Ghana, everything stops for church on Sunday. This meant we had to leave by lunchtime to have any chance of getting back to Cape Coast by the evening. We got on three tros- the first of which was so bumpy that we all thought that if we managed to escape with only mild concussion then we were pretty lucky. Pleased to still be alive, the journey to Takoradi was spent playing 'guess the intro,' which amused and irritated all the Ghanaians on the tro with us in equal measure. At one point our tro was stopped by police, not for our dreadful singing, but for the policemen to ask us which one of us would be his wife. At this point I was grateful for my fictional husband. The final tro journey was spent making up Ghanaian monopoly.
In the evening I counted my money. I knew that I was going to need some more money soon, but also knew that I had left behind a fair amount of money in my suitcase so I thought would be ok for a couple of days. Upon opening my suitcase, I realised that I had only left a few coins behind, so only had 20 pounds to last me for a week and get me to the airport. Time for a phonecall home methinks.

Monday 27th July

Not an awful lot happened today to be honest. Spent most of the day planning a mini documentary about Global Mamas, a fair trade shop which sells handmade clothes and craft items. After making some phone calls, I went into town with Lynette to drop our interview questions into Global Mamas. Lynette works for ESPN in Singapore and is here at Coastal TV for a month. Afterwards I went to the nearest Western Union money transfer place and collected my emergency money, then quickly got into a taxi before I could get mugged again! There was nothing but the usual unidentifiable meat with rice for dinner, so had toast and biscuits instead. We started watching a pirate copy of Harry Potter, but everyone was shattered so we were all in bed by 10.30.

Tuesday 28th July

At 12.30pm we left the TV station and headed off to the village of Mesomagor, located on the eastern side of Kakum National Park. Selete warned us that there would be no mobile phone signal, so I managed to maintain my composure as the signal gradually faded away to nothing. The station had given us a box of food containing lunch and dinner for the day, which wasn't of much comfort to me. Lunch was rice and a horrible sauce which I left completely, a piece of chicken which I managed half of and fried plaintain which I forced myself to eat as I was so hungry. I really wish I wasn't so fussy, but I just cannot stomach Ghanaian food! As I forced down the plaintain I comforted myself with the knowledge that this time next week I will be back in England gorging myself on British food.
After lunch we were given a tour of the village, which was really interesting although I always feel a little bit voyeuristic and slightly uncomfortable staring at people's homes. However, everyone was really friendly and welcoming, and they did show me how to make fufu. I tried to be diplomatic when asked for my thoughts on fufu.
After our tour we were treated to a performance from the village's bamboo orchestra. As the name suggests, most of their instruments are made from bamboo. They also sing, and their performances are enghanced by dramatic dancing with props including a wooden chainsaw! It was definitely one of the highlights of my time in Ghana.
Dinner was cold spaghetti with tuna, so I decided to eat one of my emergency chocolate spread sandwiches I had packed instead.
With no electricity, there wasn't a lot to do since it was pitch black everywhere by 7pm. I read by torchlight until I had finished A Clockwork Orange, then tried to get to sleep. Unfortunately, I soon needed the toilet. There is no running water in Mesomagor, so the toilet is a shed with a hole in the ground located a short distance away from the house in which we were staying. Having seen a rather large spider near the toilet earlier in the day, I hadn't been too keen to take a night-time trip to the loo. After two hours trying in vain to sleep, I grabbed the torch, legged it to the toilet then ran straight back to bed.

Wednesday 29th July

Sleeping had been made somewhat difficult by the menagerie of animals located by the house. I had been kept awake by the sounds of crickets, dogs, goats and cockerels, so it was almost a relief when my alarm went off at six. Almost.
I had half of my final emergency sandwich for breakfast, then we went to meet our guide to start our hike at 6.30. Of course this was Ghana, so we didn't set off until 7.10. We were hiking into the rainforest to see the treetop platform an hour and a half away, but the entire walk somehow managed to take nearly six hours. This was because we were subjected to lengthy talks about every different type of tree, which in a rainforest takes up quite a lot of time. The only interesting part was when our guide told us he had spotted a snake, but this excitement soon faded when I saw the 'snake'- it was basically a black worm. The treetop platform itself was nothing spectacular, although the climb up was quite interesting. The platform was pretty high up, and to get to it you had to climb a very flimsy ladder which shook uncontrollably the whole time. I did think at one point that there was a genuine possibility I might die. On the way back to the village we were made to try some wine which you "can't find in Cape Coast," although I am not sure if the guide was referring to the wine itself or the dead ants that were floating in it.
When we returned to the village it was lunchtime, and we had been promised a typical Mesomagor meal. After hearing another volunteer's tale of soup which contained fish eyes and scales, I thought it would be wise to say that I didn't eat fish. I couldn't get out of eating plaintain again though. By the time we had finished it was 2.30, and Selete had said he was picking us up at 3. It had taken about an hour and a half to get here, so I figured we would be back home just in time for spaghetti bolognaise for dinner. Selete turned up just before 4, and we didn't actually leave until 4.30. Knowing that dinner would be served by 5, I couldn't face cold spaghetti again so just went straight to the internet cafe and figured I would have to make myself some noodles for dinner. Slightly irritated, I went and bought a big packet of cookies first.

Speak to you soon for my final Ghana blog,

Daniella xxx