The two extremes of Cape Town

We had such a good time riding the red line bus we hopped on the blue line the very next day. Some of the stops overlapped, with the exception a few places, notably the Kirstenbosch Gardens and a township. The concept of Kirstenbosch reminded me of The Oregon Garden, but the similarities ended there. Kirstenbosch showcases indigenous South African plants and flowers in a protected, natural habitat. The gardens are nestled under the magnificent Devils Peak with lots of sprawling grassy spaces for picnics, or in our case – cartwheels and leaps! We could have spent hours meandering along side paths, discovering all the botanical wonders. Instead we made the most of our 90 minutes, then climbed back on the blue line to maximize our time.

 Beneath the veneer of Cape Town’s beauty and sophistication exists the scar of apartheid. The political, economic, and social oppression of the black majority by the white minority lasted for about 50 years. Even though it’s been officially eradicated since 1994, life for blacks and coloreds (a politically correct term that refers to mixed races) continues to be one of inequity. For example, only 14% of blacks graduate from high school and seek higher education compared to 65% of whites. When they were coerced from their homes and neighborhoods decades ago (for example, District Six, which I wrote about in my last post) it was essentially forced emigration to the outskirts of the city in the worst areas, and those townships still remain. I had to witness for myself what a township was all about. Somewhere inside me there’s a cultural anthropologist who comes alive every time I travel to a new country!

The blue line offered a one hour guided walking tour of Imizamo Yethu. Our guide, Kenny, lives in Imizamo Yethu, a township of 16,000. Upbeat and easy-going, Kenny readily answered our questions and encouraged our group of 8 to take photos. At first it felt somewhat voyeuristic, and I asked Kenny if the residents minded us observing their daily lives so closely. He answered, “Oh no. They have hope. Today is better than yesterday. Tomorrow will be better than today.”

 The photos speak for themselves about their dreadful living conditions. We had the opportunity to actually go in one township home. The entire dwelling was the size of a bedroom in an average American home. One makeshift divider separated the kitchen/living room from the sleeping room. I was surprised to see a new-model washing machine leaned up against the wall, taking up more than half the kitchen space. When I asked Kenny about it later, he replied nonchalantly, “She (the mom of the house) wanted to buy it. She works.” When it comes to work, about 60% of township residents are employed, 10 % are self-employed, and 30% are unemployed. These statistics slip below the rest of Cape Town, where the unemployment rate skyrockets at 35%. According to Mary Burton (Peace and Reconciliation Commissioner who we met our first day), this is due to not enough qualified workers for the available jobs.

 As we trekked through the township, the streets teemed with energy. Music blared and cars chugged up and down the alleys. A café worker cooked chicken outside over an open fire, young men washed cars, women strolled back from church, kids ran around gleefully (the kids asked me to take their photo), and barbers gave haircuts. Lots of people seemed to be hanging out, passing the time on this fine Sunday afternoon.

 It dismayed me to learn that up to 20 families have to share one outhouse in Imizamo Yethu. The outhouses and piles of garbage bags contributed to the stench in certain parts. This township has suffered fires and floods because of its lack of sturdy infrastructure and the tight proximity of the homes. However, not everyone lives in a shack. In 2005, an Irish pub tycoon pledged $R10 million for the Niall Mellon Township Initiative. Hundreds of Irish volunteers constructed 100 homes in 12 days. Families wait patiently on the government housing list to someday get selected for a basic 3 bedroom home. Kenny walked us down a street where the government continues to build more homes, inspired by the initiative. Our group was surprised to discover how self-sufficient Imizamo Yethu is. Seven preschools (run by welfare organizations), one night school (for parents who never completed their education), a computer center, an employment agency (called “Work Now”), and a community hall all help serve the needs of the community. The computer center was astonishingly modern; residents sign up for tutoring and online sessions. According to Kenny, it is sponsored by a company in the United States.

 Sigh. A dull ache settled behind my eyebrows as I climbed back on the blue line bus. Finally, true understanding eclipsed my limited knowledge of apartheid and the raw fact that South Africa still has miles to go before true equality is achieved for blacks and coloreds. I continued to grasp how my stereotype of poverty has been so narrow. The abysmal conditions were overwhelming and I struggled to make sense of what I had seen and learned. Relief, guilt, disgust, sympathy, and a host of other emotions swirled inside me as the ocean breezes wafted through the top level of the bus, keeping us cool. The blue line wound through the lavish Camps Bay and Clifton Beach for the second day in a row, but I viewed them with clearer eyes this time. So many questions and so few answers. The photos below illustrate the astounding paradox that exists in Cape Town.

Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living. ~Miriam Beard

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Riding the Red Line

Cape Town, a mecca for culture, outdoor recreation, and nature, intoxicated us with its beauty and international atmosphere. We jumped out of bed early for a freedom (we feel so free off the ship!) run- a jog with the “running club” on the ship. The club is essentially a small group of casual runners who take advantage of land running opportunities in each port. By far, Cape Town offered the best a runner could hope for: perfect temperatures, fabulous scenery, safety, and a promenade to run alongside the ocean on. My Boston-bound (2012)  husband knocked out about 35 miles over the course of four morning runs; my mileage clocked in waayy less than half that!

For our first full day we decided to cruise around the city atop a fire engine-red double-decker bus, aka “the red line.” Can you see me in the front row??? Yep, it’s touristy, and the most efficient way to get to know the area. The main benefit of the red bus is the ability to hop on and off at the various stops and then catch another bus, which run every 15 minutes. The tour includes an audio guide in 6 different languages, including a kids’ version. I absolutely loved the red line; the only drawback is there are not enough hours in the day to spend time at all the stops.

Cape Town shines as a modern, pristine, cosmopolitan hub. The picturesque waterfront blends seamlessly into the sleek buildings downtown. Urban revitalization has been its goal since the 1950’s, the decade that birthed many construction projects. Until then the ocean completely covered the downtown area! But the price of progress was steep; the black townships were pushed out to the suburbs and have been stuck there ever since. One of the most well-known oppressed neighborhoods is called District Six. It was working class neighborhood, also home to artists and musicians. In 1968, the government razed their homes based on the erroneous belief that people of different races could not and should not live together. Today, 85% of District Six remains brown scrub grass and weeds, a monument to this appalling movement. Coming to a consensus on how to rebuild the neighborhood continues to be a bureaucratic nightmare.

One of the highlights of the red line tour showcased Table Mountain. I would have loved to have climbed this “Tavern of the Sea” as the sailors used to call it, but the hike is too challenging for children. Instead we zipped up in the cable car, which was exhilarating! I overheard William say to his friend Kaila, “The view is breathtaking!” Kaila, her mom Christine, and grandma Tomiko rode the red line with us this day. William also referred to it as “Cable Mountain” a few times after that. The kids scampered over the rocks and we explored the trails and viewpoints. Everyday the clouds pour over the summit, creating the “table cloth” effect. Table Mountain’s chiseled, craggy cliffs and distinctive flat top symbolized hope and freedom to political prisoners out on Robben Island. Incidentally, Table Mountain is in the running for one of the new Seven Wonders of the World –and it definitely has my vote!

The bus wound through a couple of swanky oceanside enclaves, Camps Bay and Clifton Beach. According to the audio, Camps Bay is the place to see and be seen, day or night. We managed to find a kid-friendly café for lunch that didn’t break the bank, and then checked out the beach. The turquoise water is as frigid as Oregon’s Pacific Ocean, but plenty of sunbathers dominate this sun-blessed beach. With stylish hotels and chic dining, Camps Bay is reminiscent of the Riviera. Pretty dreamy!

We capped off the day at Two Oceans Aquarium and a spin on the Wheel of Excellence (our bus tour included our admission tickets for Table Mountain and the aquarium); it definitely was a fantastic day for the kiddos. The Ragged-Tooth sharks stole the show at the aquarium; William asked to go back every day. I got outvoted 3-1 to try the ferris wheel (aka Wheel of Excellence), but the 15 minute leisure ride proved worthwhile for all the spectacular vistas of the waterfront and city. By now we had fallen happily under Cape Town’s spell.

P.S. Wondering who/what the red Lego creature is? It’s made out of Coca Cola crates and stands as testament to Cape Town’s commitment to recycling and sustainability!

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Radiant Cape Town

 

It’s my 40^th birthday, as I write this post. Our ship, the MV Explorer is sailing around the Cape of Good Hope in some of the roughest waters we’ve encountered our entire voyage, as the Atlantic and Indian Oceans mix. To combat the seasickness, I’ve stuck the patch behind my ear, pulled Sea Bands on my wrists, and stuffed a wad of cotton in my left ear. Last night I downed just a 1/3 pill of a Meclyzine, but I’m still feeling a bit drowsy. It’s easy to romanticize this adventure, especially from afar, but just as the sea rolls, there are ups and downs to our 3 ½ month journey around the world. This will be a birthday I’ll never forget, but at this moment I surely miss my loved ones from home!

It’s time to reflect on the last 5 days: the iconic Cape Town, South Africa. Our stay began in a strange, delayed manner that at the time drove me insane, but now seems like a distant memory. The winds blew especially strong, causing such huge and rough seas such that we couldn’t dock. Instead of docking at 8:00 a.m. on Feb. 17^th, we docked at 10:30 a.m. on the 18^th. For over 24 hours, we circled out at sea, the ship shifting and dipping side to side, so severely at times, that dishes slid off tables and books fell off shelves! We tried to pass the time, wondering when we’d get to land. I can’t fathom how the ancient explorers or the pilgrims ever managed!

As the tug guided us into port, Cape Town sparkled like a paradise city, framed by the ruggedly majestic Table Mountain. I’ve gazed at so much ocean for the past 50 days and it’s never shimmered like it did off the coast of Cape Town. The tug boat guided us in through a narrow opening between the jetties to the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront. We stood on the deck, mesmerized by the aesthetics.

The V & A Waterfront blends a working harbor with trendy restaurants, elegant hotels, shops, the chic Victoria Wharf mall, live music at the outdoor amphitheater, and even an enormous ferris wheel (properly referred to as the Wheel of Excellence.) And the best part of all was the close proximity. We could simply walk off the gangway and strike out in the middle of the action in less than 5 minutes. Most of the time, the kids wanted to stop and chuckle at the South African fur seals’ antics as they flopped on the dock just past security.

We got cleared from the ship about 12:30. Each country has a unique immigration process and South Africa brought their immigration officials directly onto the ship to check each of us individually. This was the first time it had been done face to face, so it took a bit longer. Luckily for us, we had a contact waiting for us. Geoff and Mary Burton, friends of our friends Kent and Kay Hotaling, have lived in South Africa for years. Geoff grew up in Cape Town and Mary is from Brazil originally. The Burtons raised their four sons (all now in that grand decade, the 40’s) in the Cape Town suburb of Rondebosch. And all of their children and 10 grandchildren live within 2 miles of their home!

Geoff picked us up at the waterfront and drove us up Signal Hill to take in the breathtaking views of the city and ocean. The Cape Town Stadium, constructed to host the World Cup in 2010, sprawled below. About a mile out from shore we recognized Robben Island. A strong piney aroma, reminiscent of Central Oregon, wafted from stone pine trees, which are native to South Africa. Signal Hill seemed to be a popular destination for cyclists wanting to squeeze in a midday workout, as well as those seeking out spectacular views.

We then headed to the Burton’s home in Rondebosch, about a 20 minute drive from CT. It’s an idyllic community with leafy tree-lined streets and architecturally tasteful homes. Geoff and Mary entertained us for the afternoon with lunch, relaxed conversation, and let the kids swim in their pool. William even got to kick the soccer ball around on their tennis court.

Both Geoff and Mary have poured their energies into improving their communities. Geoff created a homeless shelter in downtown Cape Town called The Carpenter’s House about 30 years ago. It houses about 40 adults in flats of 10 men or 10 women each, and rehabilitates them by helping them get sober and teaching them skills to reenter society. The Carpenter’s Shop uses glass from drink bottles and the participants cut the recycled glass to craft goblets and tumblers to be sold at artisan markets. The participants can learn other trades; there’s a beauty salon and mechanic garage on site. The average stay is about 6 months and their success rate seems to be fairly high. Geoff showed us around, but unfortunately we didn’t get to meet anyone. It was a Friday afternoon and they’d already received their allowance, so it was pretty quiet.

Mary was a member of an anti-apartheid activitist group called The Black Sash in the 1980’s and 90’s. She noted how difficult it was to be hated from both sides: the whites didn’t understand why white women were advocating for the rights of racial minorities and the blacks didn’t trust them because they were white. But they soldiered on with letter writing campaigns and political protests until apartheid dissolved in 1994. Nelson Mandela appointed Mary to the Peace and Reconciliation Commission, which she is still involved with as a commissioner today. It was an enlightening and pleasant afternoon getting to know the Burtons and learning from their experiences.

Geoff navigated his way through Friday rush hour traffic, extra thick thanks to Bono fans doing the fan walk. Yup, U2 was in town for their 360 Degrees world tour! “It’s a Beautiful Day”, but unfortunately, we didn’t get to go. Naturally several college students from the ship did. It reminded me of my own study abroad semester way back in 1992. U2 was performing in Vienna, Austria, when we happened to be there, and a group of us went to great lengths to score tickets for that concert! Ahh, the memories…

After Geoff dropped us off, we strolled through the waterfront esplanade and soon enough found Pick and Pay, a grocery store chain, in the mall. Even though few of the brands were recognizable, the familiar layout and products seduced us into stocking up on lots of snacks! We’d been BARELY surviving on dry cereal boxes leftover from ship breakfasts. You know, life can be so tough!!! We concluded our first day eating dinner on the veranda at one of the waterfront restaurants. It felt like a splurge, but we were in a celebratory mood for finally making it to Cape Town…and marveling at the vibrancy of our base for the next few days.

So. You can probably guess where this is going. Cape Town, in all its glory, lulled us into vacation mode, which was both good and bad. We thoroughly enjoyed its beauty, the comfort and convenience, and made the most of every minute. But we also spent more money than we should have and slipped into a touristy, entitlement mode on more than one occasion. Stay tuned to find out how our Cape Town capers evolved.

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Ghana – Playing at Father’s Home

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Our final day in Ghana was another S.A.S. field trip, this time a service project at the Father’s Home Care Orphanage. Truth be told, that morning we woke up dead tired from the accumulation of the week, and a little unsure of what we were getting ourselves into. Wary of another interminable bus ride, our trip leader assured us the orphanage was just 15 minutes across town, max 30 minutes with traffic. We learned on the drive over that instead of helping out with maintenance projects (cleaning, painting, etc.) the plan was to spend time hanging out and playing with the kids. Hmm, I thought, we might be in for a long day. I didn’t utter my doubts out loud, and determined to make the most of the day. Naturally, a greater power was scheming and I soon discovered that the day would unfold precisely how it was supposed to.

The bus parked at the bottom of a steep driveway in what appeared to be a residential neighborhood. We made our way to the “library”, a dim, low-ceilinged, square room. Mismatched chairs were set up around the perimeter of the space, obscuring low shelves partially filled with beat-up picture books and outdated student workbooks. We met Francis, a tall and gentle soul, who founded the orphanage 10 years ago, and still directs the day–to-day operations.

Father’s Home Care Orphanage is an NGO (non-governmental organization) that opened its doors to 7 children in 2001. Its mission is to assist children who are victims of neglect, abuse, and broken families and build a sense of belonging among the children. They actively seek out street children who’ve been abandoned and strive to educate and provide a safe and loving home to the orphans. Currently they house 31 individuals aged 22 months to 21 years of age. The younger orphans attend school right on site and the teenagers go to a high school in Takoradi. When I asked how many teachers worked at Father’s Home, Francis smiled and corrected me, “We call them parents.” About seven parents educate and care for the children.

Francis continued to field questions from our group and then brought 24 of the orphans into the library. One by one they stepped forward to introduce themselves, stating their name and age.  Then we did the same, including stating our ages! At that point it was time to play. Some of the older kids helped the “librarian” set out paper, markers, games like Scrabble, and the biggest hit of the day, Legos. There were bunches of small, sealed, plastic bags of brand-new Lego pieces. This was great news for William. Both the kids felt a bit awkward at first (those of you who know them, know they don’t dive into new situations with people they don’t know!) But I’ve got to hand it to them, their “warming up” muscles continue to get stretched on this voyage, and within a minute, William and girl named Debra were building Legos together.

Vivian and I started talking to Jeremiah, who showed us the pet rabbits. He is in charge of their care. A little reserved, Jeremiah readily answered our questions and opened the cage door to let us pet a rabbit. We also got to know Mordechai, who loved to draw. The art supplies were woefully skimpy and most of the markers dried out, but the two of them drew a couple of pictures. Vivian was very curious about seeing more of the house, particularly the kids’ bedrooms so she asked Mordechai if he’d give us a tour (Francis had already shown us the dining room.) Mordechai obliged. That’s him pointing to himself in a group photo on a bulletin board. The board displayed a quote by Calvin Coolidge, something about reaching your full potential, side by side a Bible verse. In the bedrooms, two to three narrow beds and a small armoire for clothes were the only pieces of furniture. No toys. Smudgy white walls. But everything was picked up and neatly put away in these sparse rooms. I asked Mordechai if they were required to clean their rooms daily and he nodded, answering in a tone indicating that was a rhetorical question!

As the day progressed lots of us moved outside. Thankfully there was a cloud cover so the heat was a little more bearable. A spirited soccer game got started on the driveway and I marveled how the steepness didn’t phase them a bit. Of course, William stayed put here for the rest of the day. He’d had a little accident and was out of sorts for a while. Susie, a spunky, competitive, and charismatic 10 year old, made sure to block the ball for him a couple times and went out of her way to initially draw him into the game. Her sensitivity and wisdom toward William blew me away.

Vivian and I played combination volleyball/soccer/catch with a circle of kids and S.A.S. students. A few people started playing drums and the Ghanaians were thrilled to give lessons. Sometime that morning, my camera battery died. (Many of the photos on this post are from Jason’s camera.) Frustrated, I wished I’d remembered to charge it the night before. But it turned out to be a blessing. Soon I found myself totally inside the moment, really playing for the joy of play, in a way that I haven’t in a very long time. The Ghanaians’ exuberance for living surely helped, too!

The hours melted away. Our group left for an hour to have lunch at a restaurant in town, which I thought should have been planned differently. It would have been better to share lunch with Father’s Home, even it was boxed lunches from the ship. I noted that on my trip evaluation. Many of the kids wanted to reassurance we’d return after lunch. Our time concluded with group photos and presentations of small gifts. Vivian has been braiding friendship bracelets for a few months now, specifically for occasions like this. She personally handed a bracelet to each kid before lunch, not knowing about the gift presentation. But that ended up being the right timing.

Saying goodbye was a little emotional; one of the kids actually climbed on the bus! As it usually goes with service projects, we gain more than we give. Deep down, I know that this wasn’t goodbye forever. Someday I’ll return, and in the meantime there will be opportunities to donate, organize book drives, collect school supplies, etc. for Father’s Home Care Orphanage. Our day at Father’s Home turned out to be the exceptional way to conclude our unforgettable stay in Ghana.

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Ghana’s beach and rainforest

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I’d read that one of Ghana’s best assets is its beaches. Knowing that our port, Takoradi, wasn’t an accessible city to explore, we were looking forward to spending a day at Busua beach, about an hour west. Hopping on a tro tro again sounded fine, since it’s cheap and we knew what we were getting into (experts after one ride, right?!) However, Micah, the same taxi driver we’d met at the port gate our first day, sought us out. He convinced us that he should drive us all the way to Busua since the tro tro would drop us off at a junction and then we’d have to find another taxi to take us the remaining 5 miles to Busua. We were right to trust Micah; I reread in my guidebook notes later precisely what he told us!

Busua occupies a brilliant stretch of Atlantic coastline. It’s buttered with wide, golden beaches and turquoise, bath-water warm waves perfect for swimming and body surfing. The pristine, sugar-fine sand feels almost silky, although it’s a little too hot to walk barefoot too far! Micah bombed us through the little surfer (Ghana-style) town and before we realized what was happening, drove under a raised gate next to a “Busua Beach Resort” sign. We told him that we weren’t going to be staying there but he insisted it was okay. Well…okay. We climbed out of the taxi and took it all in: kids’ play equipment, three pools, an open-air restaurant/bar, palm-shaded chalets. Right. On. The. Beach. It occurred to me accommodations like this in Hawaii would cost several hundred dollars a night. I’d researched some places online and knew Busua Beach Resort would set us back about $150 for a room. Alas, we had a S.A.S. field trip on the agenda for the next day (and I was the trip leader), so staying overnight was out of the question. But, we decided to make the most of the next 6 hours.

The kids immediately scampered onto the play equipment – they get excited to discover parks and playgrounds in each place we visit. William spied a lizard on the slide which naturally pleased him. A few minutes later, another S.A.S. family walked up. Sunny, Bill, and 2 year old Alex had just checked in for the night. This is the same family we ran into at the park in Manaus, Brazil. We wondered if we’d get asked to leave since we wouldn’t be overnight guests, but no one came and said anything. The resort seemed virtually deserted except for us S.A.S. people and one other small group. I couldn’t take my eyes off the sublime ocean view, and soon we made our way down to the sand, steps from the playground. We paid 2 cedis (about $1.40) to rent a beach umbrella for the day and settled in.

The equatorial sun heats up the Atlantic Ocean to a therapeutically warm temperature. We jumped, waded and swam, diving under the waves and floating the crests. So wonderfully strange to not get cold, neither in the water, nor once we flopped on our towels. Ghana’s humidity seems less intense at the shore, too, which was a relief.

Essentially we spent a relaxing day going back and forth between the ocean and the swimming pools, which were pleasantly warm (and very clean!) We paid about 10 cedis for the family to use the pools. William made more progress with his swimming this day than he has in three summers of lessons! We dined mid-afternoon on pizza and fries (for Jason and the kids) and chicken Kashmir (me) for an expensive meal by Ghanaian prices, but we didn’t really care at this point. It was delicious! All in all, we reveled in the decadence of the day and it was a little depressing to see our taxi driver pull up that evening. Truly, I don’t know if I’ll ever experience such an incredible beach in my lifetime, unless I return to Busua someday. I hope I do…anyone wanna come with me??

The next day we boarded an air conditioned bus bound for Ankasa National Park. Our guide pointed out oil palms, batik, coconut, cocoa, and banana trees, and a rubber tree clear cut, now replanted. As we delved deeper into the interior, glimpsing the Ghanaian rural life kept my head craned towards the window. As our bus lumbered over a rutted, washed-out road (worse than any I’ve been on back home when seeking Cascade hikes trailheads!), a farmer worked on fermenting cocoa beans.

Famous for its exemplary plant diversity, Ankasa boasts over 300 species of trees and plants in a space the size of a football field. The park sprawls 150 square miles of unspoiled virgin rainforest. After our rainforest hike in Dominica (wearing swimsuits, shorts, and tank tops) where we got totally drenched, now preparation was the name of the game. We brought raincoats for each of us, but do you think it rained this time? Nope, but we ended up with dripping-wet sweaty backs thanks to our heavier backpacks! In general, this was a vastly different hike – a slower-paced level loop, damp heat, and a huge variety of trees, including rubber and mahogany. The highlight was all the bugs, millipedes, and colorful butterflies. The biggest surprise was the volume of noise. So many birds’ cackles and songs echoed under the forest canopy and often made it challenging to hear our guide!

The drawbacks to this field trip were the 6 hour round trip bus ride and the brief (barely 2 hours), momentum-less hike. I don’t think S.A.S. realized it would take so long; it sure didn’t specify the time in the catalog. We also realized that you sacrifice the freedom and spontanaeity of independent travel when you attend the field trips. The best aspect was our guide, Nii. His contagious belly laugh and informative, engaging commentary on life in Ghana helped the hours pass. He readily answered questions from participants and gave us a mini anthropology lesson. For example, I learned that once Ghanaian girls enter junior high (about age 11) there’s a national law that requires them to crop their hair and keep it super short until they graduate from high school.

Speaking of school, we saw lots of students walking to and from school throughout our 5 days.  They all wear uniforms, cheerful outfits from sunny yellow sundresses for the girls and hunter green button-down shirts (short sleeves) and shorts for boys. The school buildings in the cities and towns are large, under-maintained, and institutional-looking. On this day our bus crept past a rural school on the dirt road and I was able to peek inside the low, cinder block edifice through a couple windows. About 30-40 children sat at crude wooden desks and a teacher stood in the front of the classroom, framed by a cloudy blackboard. It was quick, but the teacher in me read the situation: the students were focused on whatever the teacher was teaching. Nii (our guide) had talked extensively about the education system in Ghana and how all kids go to school. It was heartening for me to briefly witness these students honed in on their learning, despite inadequate facilities. In my next post, I’ll expand on this subject. We spent our final day in Ghana at an orphanage. Until next time…thanks for reading!

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West Africa’s Slave Forts

This post is a continuation of the previous one! The main reason that we traveled to Cape Coast overnight was to have plenty of time to explore the centuries-old Cape Coast and Elmina castles. Yes, the grandness of their architecture makes them look like castles, but they’re more aptly referred to as slave forts, holding tanks for African slaves before being shipped off to the Americas and the West Indies.

Using the Mighty Victory Hotel as our base in Cape Coast, we explored a corner of the town on foot on our way to and from the castle. We encountered goats and chickens, as well as kids and adults going about their day. It occured to me one reason why Ghanaians spend all their time outside: it’s so hot year-round, they don’t need to seek shelter to stay out of the elements! Cape Coast seemed small compared to Takoradi, our port city, but way more developed than the villages we drove by. The crumbling and limited infrastructure was even older and more run-down than Manaus.

Having the opportunity to visit the slave forts provided us the gravest of history lessons. Thanks to global studies class, I’d learned how Ghana was the first sub-saharan country in Africa to gain independence (from Great Britain in 1957). Known as the “Gold Coast” pre-1957, most of its gold has been mined post-WWII. Ghana also supplies 70% of the world’s chocolate (remember how I wrote about the cocoa bean storage at the port?) I made it my mission to sample some Ghanaian chocolate! But, I digress…

In the 17th and 18th centuries, the Cape Coast slave fort housed (imprisoned, actually) about 600 slaves for three months at a time before they crammed onto a ship bound for a life of slavery somewhere in the Americas. Shockingly, only 5% of the slaves went to British North America (essentially the U.S.)! Forty percent each shipped to Brazil and the West Indies.

The Cape Coast castle was constructed over the course of 50 years by cheap African labor under British reign. The original cannons and cannon balls used to defend the fort still exist, looming over the Atlantic ocean. The physical and mental atrocities Africans endured throughout their 3 month ordeal was unfathomable. We crept down into the dungeons, where only one tiny window let in light and air for 300 males or females. In the dank darkness, slaves struggled to survive each day, only going outside for 1 hour a day to work and eat  one some scraps. Our guide spared no graphic details about their torturous experience. He pointed out a line on the stone wall about 2 feet off the ground that marked the obscene amount of bodily excrements from the sheer number of slaves trapped in the dungeon. It’s worth repeating: the slaves spent 23 hours a day for 3 months in the dungeon.Horrifying. Ironically, Christian church services were held on the floor of the castle right above the dungeon during the slave trade years.

The guide led our group through the Door of No Return, where slaves clambered onto ships bound for the Americas. A full third of the slaves would not survive that voyage, as the conditions on the ship were actually more despicable than the dungeons. Paradoxically, on the other side of that door today, ebullient Ghanaians swim, dance, play soccer, and generally make merry on the beach. My curiosity got the best of me, so I asked a friendly girl what the cause for celebration was. She informed me that happens every Sunday afternoon! How ironic that a historical site where brutality attacked humanity now encapsulates the pure joy of a Sunday afternoon. We followed suit: after exploring the castle, we headed down to the shore ourselves to cool our feet in the ocean (warm as bathwater!) and naturally ended up talking to some kids.  The picture of Vivian and her new friend Michael was taken right after we’d left out of the castle. We’d met him and his friends; they introduced themselves, asked our names and chatted us up like most of the Ghanaians we met. Michael then presented us with a personalized shell as we walked out. He’d written a message to us on the shell, along with  his e-mail address.  Then he showed us a pledge sheet and asked for a donation to his soccer team. Oh, we get it! Although we were happy to oblige, we didn’t fall for a similar ploy the next day at Elmina castle.  Frolicking on the beach was a great way to end the day. Ghana cools down nicely once the sun starts to set. It was strange to watch the orange ball of a sun drop down in the hazy north. We’re used to watching the sunset on the horizon!

It was good to have an overnight rest at the Mighty Victory. We tried tuning into the Super Bowl but had to settle for CNN on the lobby television. Never have I been so out of touch with regular news and current events, but at the same time gaining so much knowledge. Kind of like college, but I appreciate it more now! We had a fantastic time traveling with Marshall and Ellen. They’re easy-going, down-to-earth people and unflappable travelers to boot. Hopefully we can venture out with them again before the end of the voyage.

The next morning we fueled up on Nescafe instant coffee, fresh-squeezed orange juice (heaven!), fresh coconutty pineapple, hard boiled eggs so steaming I could hardly peel them, and dry toast (until we realized we had to order the butter, too!) Marshall and Ellen headed off to Kakum National Park and the hotel clerk arranged for a taxi driver to drive us to Elmina, a modest fishing village about 45 minutes from Cape coast, toward Takoradi. Unfortunately, we didn’t have an opportunity to poke around Elmina; we’d  negotiated with the taxi driver to wait about 1 1/2 hours while we toured the Elmina castle. Like Cape Coast, the oceanside setting at Elmina was completely breathtaking. A ribbon of a town hugged the coastline and I recognized the names of a couple hotels and restaurants I’d read about in the Lonely Planet guide book. We spied hundreds of fishing boats crowding the bay from the top of the castle. The vibe I sensed in Elmina appealed to me and I wish we could have lazed away the afternoon there. Guess that means I’ll have to go back someday!

The Elmina castle differs from the Cape Coast castle on several levels. Built in 1482(!) it was the oldest and largest slave fort in  the West African slave trade. Its architecture diverges from Cape Coast as it was originally constructed (by cheap African labor) as a “warehouse” by the Portuguese.  It wasn’t until the Dutch captured the fort that it began housing slaves. This castle also boasted an honest to goodness moat to prevent the ocean from washing it away.So the slaves weren’t kept in dungeons; the rooms were bigger with more windows, but hundreds of slaves were still packed into the space. Elmina’s Door of No Return was a child-size window that they squeezed through to board the ship. Elmina also held Christian church services on the second floor of the castle, and the spacious governor’s quarters occupied the third level.

More females than males were imprisoned at Elmina (600 vs. 400), and particular females were hand-selected by the Dutch governor each night to “service” him. If they put up a fight, they were punished by being chained to a cannon ball and forced to stand for one whole day and night (with no food) in the middle of the courtyard. Do you think they resisted the next time?

The photo of the skull and cross bones door indicated the discipline cell for “Freedom Fighters.” Slaves who disobeyed were shut in this cell until they suffocated or starved to death. Appalling. Truly, I haven’t felt this disturbed since I visited the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C.

We got a lot more out of the tour at Elmina since there were only two other people in our group besides our family and our guide showed us so many parts of the castle. We could ask lots of questions and go at a slower pace. The kids listened and followed along amazingly well. They will tell you that Elmina was their favorite, thanks to the thorough tour.

Experiencing these slave forts made me realize this history that parallels our own U.S. history. From reading about Harriet Tubman as a child to race relation and Civil War classes in college, slavery has always been a learning interest for me. Even though only 5% of African slaves journeyed to North America, these slave forts still embody a piece of U.S. history. It’s the story, sadly, that doesn’t get fully taught. I leave you with a photo of a plaque at Cape Coast castle, which articulates why we can never tolerate any form of slavery anywhere, at any time.

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Ghana~ “God is Big”

It’s difficult to choose where to start with our time in Ghana. It’s an extraordinary place that captured my heart. No doubt, I’m still digesting our experiences. So here goes…

One of the first things I noticed in Ghana was the multitude faith-filled signage. “God is Big” struck me for many reasons, personally and culturally. Many of the store names proclaim their beliefs, such as “Humble Work Furniture”, or one of my favorites, “Jesus Loves Fashion.”  (For those of you who are interested, I will list at the end of this post more signs that I saw!) About 70% of Ghanaians are Christian, and the remainder affiliate with Islam or traditional African religion. From what I observed, they embrace their religion as the foundation of their lives.

We arrived at Ghana on a Sunday, and we learned that most churches offer three, 3 hour services to choose from on any given Sunday! So many people walk in Ghana, particularly rural areas, as their main mode of transportation, even along the highway. On Sunday afternoon, the women were dressed to the nines. The typical Sunday best was fitted 2 piece matching top and long skirt, which looked like a dress from the distance. The were all short sleeved with modest necklines and a slight flare at the ankle that gave it a flowy ease. Every single woman walked regally, outfitted in vibrant, colorful patterns or striking black and white. Some had little details like applique, sequins, etc. that made each “dress” enchanting. This fascinated me endlessly for the 1 1/2 hour ride we endured in the blistering heat that day.

We walked off the ship at the port to a maze of industry: trucks, gigantic Cats, forklifts, mountains of gravel (that we found out later was manganese and boxite). It ended up to be more than a 1/2 mile trek past warehouses and railroad tracks to the port security. We dodged semi trucks loaded with cocoa beans, hoping we were heading in the right direction. As with Manaus, the smells create firsts impressions as much as the visual landscape. I caught a whiff of bitter, smoky-sweet chococlate when we passed the cocoa warehouse; it came to be an aroma I treasured over the next 5 days.

With each port I’m doing more research before we arrive, asking more questions, and taking more careful notes in global studies class and the pre-port lectures. Usually there are guests from the upcoming country who sail for a portion of the voyage such as a university student or dignitary. I’m trying to pick the brains of people who have more knowledge or experience than me, which isn’t too difficult to find! This time two Ghanaian college students visited the Dependent Children’s Program to teach the kids some key Twi phrases. Everyone speaks English in Ghana (Ghana has been independent from Great Britain since 1957), but about half the population speaks Twi as their native language. And there are close to 50 other tribal languages that the other half may speak. I won’t lie – I felt a real sense of relief knowing that we wouldn’t have to struggle with the language barrier like we did in Brazil.

We had planned to travel with Marshall and Ellen, a couple in their early 50’s with three grown children. Ellen is a professor and this is their second S.A.S. voyage. We’ve gotten to know them through the running club. Our plan was to travel overnight to Cape Coast, about 1 1/2 hours east of Takoradi. Walking to port security and then negotiating a taxi took some time while we got to know some Ghanaians first thing. The people of Ghana are the most friendly, open people who possess a joy and zest for life. They wave, immediately come up and introduce themselves, ask how you’re doing, shake your hand. They love to laugh and to engage in conversation. We garnered lots of stares (this is not a very touristy port), especially from Ghanaian kids who are also very outgoing. The downside of this was all the vendors (that grew steadily at the port as the word got out about our ship) whose persistence becomes pesky quickly!

After a stop at the ATM, we arrived at the “bus” station. As we discover each day on our travels, everything’s relative. The bus station was actually a dusty parking lot filled with vanagon-type vehicles, aka “Tro Tros.” Luckily I had read about these in the guide book. A day later William shared his wisdom: “Mom, it’s called a tro tro because it starts with a T like taxi and it rhymes with Go.” Yep, that’s pretty accurate! Tro tros are considerably cheaper than taxis, but you have to wait around until they fill up. After about 20 minutes of broiling under the late morning sun (unbelievably Ghana is hotter than Brazil) we climbed on. There were 11 visible seats in the tro tro and by the time we left, 19 people including the driver and three small children on laps, had cozied into the van!! I’ll give you one guess if the tro tro had seat belts or air conditioning!

For the next hour and a half, the tro tro chugged along the rural highway to Cape Coast through roadside villages. There’s so much activity and living happening right next to the road. Lots and lots of people are always out walking between villages. Each village consists of small, crudely constructed shacks with corrugated metal roofs and covered “porches.” All the homes and stores look similar; the yellow sign seems to be the distinguishing feature between houses and businesses. One or two villages we saw had homes constructed of clay with thatched roofs. Most of the women carry a load, either balancing an enormous round tray of goods or metal bowl on their heads, packing a baby wrapped in a swath of fabric in the middle of her back…or sometimes both! The girls learn to balance objects on their heads at about Vivian’s age. One young girl we met on the beach showed us how she swirls a T shirt on top of her noggan to anchor the tray. Pretty incredible.  

Except for village life and green vegetation, driving on the highways isn’t particularly scenic in western Ghana. The air is extremely smoggy due to all the smoke. Anyone who wants to burn can and does. They burn garbage or brush to clear land and plant crops. We saw a couple of blazing “bonfires” roadside!

The tro tro dumped us off in the middle of chaos in downtown Cape Coast, sweaty and hungry. Before we visited Cape Coast Castle, checking in to the Mighty Victory Hotel and finding something to eat were main priorities. Marshall and Ellen had a confirmed e-mail reservation but we didn’t. According to my research in the Lonely Planet guidebook, it described Mighty Victory (don’t you love that name?) as “Cape Coast’s closest thing to a boutique hotel. Cool, modern rooms with crisp white sheets.” Remember what I’ve said before, everything’s relative! We knew the price was about $50 so our expectations were in line with that. Thankfully, Mighty Victory had received our e-mail inquiry and saved the “family room” for us: two spacious adjoining rooms with a private bath and ceiling fans (no a.c.) that didn’t really keep the rooms cool. It was clean enough and the hillside location was quiet except for nocturnal trilling of birds. The kids were absolutely thrilled with every aspect of the Mighty Victory. It  was rejuvenating to experience a change of scenery (overnight) from the ship. Even though we’re so privileged with the amenities of the MV Explorer, we learned how refreshing it can be to take a break from the routine. Just like at home!

We ended up eating lunch, dinner and breakfast at Mighty Victory’s simple restaurant. All six of us relaxed at the same table in the middle of the lobby for each meal, the only patrons until breakfast. We enjoyed the tasty American/Ghanaian menu and reasonable prices. William ordered macaroni and cheese and I chose the chicken jollof, a traditional dish of red rice flavored with chili powder and other spices.Yum! Our brief stay at Cape Coast was a magical shot in the arm and served as a turning point for our family as independent travelers. The kids really impressed Jason and I with their tolerance for physical discomfort, respect for people, and engagement with the experience. It’s exciting to witness the transformation.

If you’ve read to this point, you deserve an award for stamina! Coming in the next post: Cape Coast and Elmina Castles, historic forts from the slave trade 400 years ago. And here’s the sampling of religious signs I saw:

Anointing Tailoring Shop, Jesus Helps Everything, Tis God’s Enterprise, God’s Grace Welding Shop, Believe in God Hair Salon, God is Able Electronics, Let Others See Jesus in You (back of a tro tro), Jesus Never Fails, In His Time.

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Nine Days at Sea

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Today is our 9th straight day of sailing, our longest at-sea stint in the entire voyage. To be honest, I had to mentally gear up for it…many aspects of ship life have not been easy for me; namely the seasickness and feelings of confinement. But here we are, 24 hours away from our port in Ghana.  And you know what? It hasn’t been so bad. I must be finally be gaining my sea legs!

Many of you have asked about our daily lives on the ship. (Here’s a shout-out to all of my readers – you are the greatest! Thanks for reading and especially thanks for the comments. I miss you all!) Today seems like as good a day as any to give you a snapshot into a typical day on the MV Explorerer.

For Jason and I, our day starts about 5:30 a.m. I know, shocking for me, normal for Jason. And it’s been really difficult lately because we’ve had to set our clocks back an hour a night 4 times since we left Brazil to be on Ghana time!  If I want to accomplish anything, my only choice is early morning. The Internet connectivity is painfully slow and it’s nearly impossible to access it in the afternoons and evenings when the college students are doing their thing. The same goes for the fitness room: 6:00-8:00 a.m. is reserved for faculty and staff. You’ll find me in the computer lab or on the elliptical as the day dawns at sea.

The kids don’t have a window in their cabin (but they have a cool fold down bunk bed as you can see from the pic) so they are snoozing away in their “cave” until I wake them up in time to hurry to breakfast. The kitchen crew puts away the food at 8:30 sharp! Jason goes to “work” about 7:15 to set up A/V equipment in the classrooms but takes a break to join us for breakfast. He’s busy off and on all day and evening coordinating all A/V needs for professors and presenters. That’s a photo of him in the A/V booth, his “office.”

After we eat it’s time for “ship school.” All the kids go to the starboard side of the dining room to do their work. Our little independent learners are attentive, cooperative, and on task for the next three hours. NOT! In fact, yesterday we tried a more structured approach to the schedule in hopes to improve productivity. The parents “teach” their own children, and we also have a work-study student who helps tutor. Honestly, it’s mystifying to me how some parents can home school their children. Clearly it’s not in my skill-set, so this will be my first and last time as a home-school teacher!

My main job is to plan and coordinate. One of the other parents is good at making connections on the ship and finding people to share their talents and expertise with the students. We have a guest teacher or presenter almost everyday, that’s ranged from authors, birders, sign language lessons, Portuguese lessons, Q & A with the captain, etc. Our afternoons have filled up with at least one enrichment activity each day. College students have volunteered to lead P.E., art, dance, theater, and music.  The volunteers who work with the kids are terrific! In the evenings there are occasional game nights (I led bingo earlier this week) and Camp Nights, led by 2-3 college students. The key is to keep the kids busy! In reality the ship is not an ideal environment for children. Everything is geared to adults and college students.

A couple of exceptional events happened this past week. Jason and I received our formal invitation for the Captain’s Dinner. Every faculty and staff member is invited once on the voyage. We got dressed up and headed to Glazer Lounge on deck 7 forward (the rockiest place on the ship) for the cocktail hour. I learned that high heels, a glass of wine, and rolling seas will not earn me the Ms. Graceful crown! Thankfully there are strategically placed bars and poles to grab on to for balance! The dinner consisted of a 5 course meal served at a lavishly set table after-hours in the dining room. No kidding – I counted 11 pieces of flatware at my place setting! Our servers were the same awesome crew who work in the dining room for all our regular meals. They kicked it up a notch for the Captain’s Dinner – from placing the napkin on your lap to refilling the bottomless wine glasses. Definitely the fanciest dinner I’ve ever experienced. Our distinguished guest was Mario, an Italian who’s the chief operating engineer on the ship. He assured our table that getting the 2nd treadmill repaired (only one works for the 800+ passengers) is at the top of his list. We’ll see- it’s been on the fritz since Dominica.

Regardless of the busted treadmill, the whole shipboard community expended plenty of energy a couple days ago at the Sea Olympics. All the college students are divided into seas (Baltic Sea, Bering Sea, Aegean Sea, etc.) The seas competed in various events like synchronized swimming (my favorite to watch), tug o’ war, trivia, crab soccer, and the like. The faculty, staff, and dependents formed our own sea, the Luna Sea (get it?!) and got the leftover color hot pink! Vivian, Jason, and I competed in the wheel barrow race, but alas, lost our heat. Vivian also loved being a “runner” for the Dress Your Dean category. She and another friend hunted all over the ship for items to dress up our dean as Lady Gaga! The vibrant opening ceremony kicked off the Sea Olympics with lots of pep-assembly style spirit and pageantry. All the seas presented their banner, song, and chant to judges. The sea that accumulated the most points throughout the olympics earned the privilege to disembark the ship in San Diego at the end of the voyage. And the winner was…drumroll…the Red Sea!

Tomorrow we arrive in Takoradi, Ghana for five days. I can’t believe I’m going to Africa. Stay tuned!

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Obrigada, Brazil!

Obrigada (thank you) is the one Portuguese word I used consistently (and pronounced correctly) throughout our 5 day stay in Manaus, Brazil. I’d like to thank Brazil for educating me and stretching my mind and heart in a way that a new destination hasn’t for a long time!

On our third morning Jason and I decided to walk the kids to a park we’d seen on an early morning run. About 30 minutes away on foot, the route goes by the Manaus market, a busy flurry of commerce wedged between downtown and the Rio Negra river.  Noisy trucks haul in the catches of the day and unload their freight directly at the undercover market, as well as fruit and other produce. The fish market itself is in a separate garage-type structure. Talk about a barrage on the olfactory senses: pungent fish, garbage, fuel, heat (yes, heat has a scent in Manaus), and the occasional whiff of sweet pineapple! I wanted to take more photos and explore the market but the aromas were too overpowering.  We witnessed a lot of poverty on this walk, from homeless people resting on the sidewalk, to families living in dilapidated (maybe abandoned?) boats down below on the shore. Across a littered ravine loomed a favela, the type of ghetto we warned to steer clear of.

The park is a strange modern oasis smack in the middle of the crumbling downtown core. We heard it was once a destitute apartment building that the government razed to develop this manicured setting. We strolled through precise landscaping, paved paths, and garden art, until we found what we were seeking: play equipment!  The only other people we saw were several uniformed park rangers, including one who informed me in Portuguese I wasn’t allowed to climb on the play equipment since I was an adult! Another S.A.S. family showed up later so the kids were happy to have a playmate.

That afternoon was our last field trip, a Brazilian dance fusion workshop. We spent 2 1/2 hours at the Ritmo Quento Dance Academy learning dances like the Lambada and Samba The upbeat music and capable instructors immersed us in the rhythms for a fun and energizing afternoon! (My calves were sore for two days!) We learned how dance is such an integral part of Brazilian culture; people begin dancing when they are toddlers and love to dance whenever and wherever as an expression of their joy. Brazilians love life! In fact, I later heard from some college students who stumbled into a samba street dance (perhaps a “rehearsal” of sorts for carnivale?) and the dancers folded them into the dance all night like they were long-lost friends!Our final day in Manaus was a short one since our on-ship time was 3:00. On-board ship time is always two hours before we sail and oftentimes there’s a line to get back on, due to the ship’s security searching bags, etc. Our plan was to take a taxi to Bosque da Ciencia, which translates to the Forest of Science. Our taxi driver kindly offered to stay there and return us to the port when we were done (must have been a slow morning!) Again, it was surprising how much you can communicate with a language barrier!

The Forest of Science was essentially a small scale zoo in a wooded setting. The main animals featured were lots of turtles, eels, manatees, and alligators. There was a large, unenclosed pond where we tentatively searched for the alligators, only to see more enormous turtles and a baby caiman on the shore.   The Forest of Science typified much of what we observed in downtown Manaus: most exhibits were shabby with faded signs and old structures. In general, not a lot of maintenance. It didn’t matter – the place was shady and quiet and we had a blast looking at the exotic animals, especially the alligators. We found them tucked away in an unmarked corner, lounging safely behind tall chain-link fences. Their “pens” weren’t super big, so we enjoyed close up views of these giant reptiles.

We had a few minutes to kill before it was time to meet the taxi driver. And we wanted to spend the remainder of our Real $ (ree-al) currency. The kids easily found a couple of souvenirs in the dinky gift shop! William chose a painted, wooden riverboat, and Vivian chose a berry-red beaded necklace; both were handmade. They are posing with their mementos in front of the manatees.

We were all basking in the smoothness of the pleasant morning. By the 5th day, the edgy newness of the city had worn off and this was a great way to end our stay. Then things took a turn, as they often do in this life! As the taxi driver pulled up to the port terminal, Vivian realized she didn’t have her camera. Her Brand-New, Christmas-Present, Favorite-Toy-Ever Digital Camera.

We quickly made a plan: 1. Withdraw more currency. 2. Vivian and Jason took a new taxi back to the Forest of Science. 3. William and I headed back to the ship for lunch. 4. Sent prayers to St. Anthony, the saint from my Catholic upbringing who often helps us find lost objects. I was confident they would make it back before 3:00.

Almost 2 hours later Vivian and Jason delivered the dejection. No camera. Not surprising given the situation and the fact that petty crime is sky-high in Manaus. It was a depressing note to end on and a hard lesson for her to learn. But we all were safe, healthy, and together.

This visit to Brazil confirmed what I’d learned in books about the disparity between the rich and poor. Most of Manaus’s 1.7 million population we’d consider the working poor. There’s a very small middle class in Brazil (it’s even more pronounced in the north due to factors like education and health care) and the richest 10% control 60% of the wealth. Brazil has a 25% tax rate, but the government is fiscally corrupt.

Through my own American lens I found myself humbled throughout this experience. Not knowing Portuguese and confounded that so few Brazilians speak English reminded me of my limited experiences. Navigating the sweltering, dirty, crowded, city of Manaus made me thankful for my hometown in the cool and sparkling Pacific Northwest. The vastness of Amazonas and its rivers, the untamed beauty of the jungle, the simplicity of the villages….all of these were awe-inspiring.

What a wide world we inhabit. The magnitude  of this voyage reveals itself layer by layer through each port.

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