First Thoughts on Africa

Although it feels like months, it’s exactly 2 weeks now since we have arrived in Africa. Today it rained for the first time since we’ve been here. The first rain of the season, it seems, officially ending the dry season that stretches from December till middle/late April. And the beginning of the first of two ‘wet’ seasons... This one will stretch from now until about August end. Then it will go away, only to reappear again towards late October for a month and a half of ‘reverse’ monsoons. And then, from December on, it will be dry. It is during this time that the Sahelian desert winds will blow the ominous Harmattan over the plains of West Africa. The dusty desert winds that will reduce visibility to only a few metres, and fill the air up with a permanent haze that will last for weeks, even months, in the land-locked hinterland of Chad, Niger, Burkina and Northern Ghana. Eventually, the smog will lift, as the harsh equatorial sun will blanch everything else in its wake. And another calendar year will have passed in one of God’s nether zones.

Accra. Capital of modern day Ghana, Kingdom of the Ashanti warriors. As our British Airways flight touched down on Kotoka International Airport, we had reason to be nervous. It was our very first time in Africa, after all.

Africa.

A-F-R-I-C-A.

Always in uppercase in the lexicon of God-fearing middle-class denizens of the (non-African) world. Like me. Probably my wife as well, sitting next to me, peering over my shoulder to follow the antics of the Rastafarian looking co-inhabitant of our middle aisle. No doubt thinking dark thoughts of what lay ahead.

So we disembark. It being a tiny little airport, the plane had almost pulled up to nearly the edge of the Airport Entrance gate. We hear strains of reggae music, as our bodies brace the tropical humid air for the first time. It is pitch black for some reason, as we take a few tentative steps towards the entrance gate. As our eyes adjust to the darkness, we see a white Police Car with orange stripes, parked over by the wayside. Three policemen seem to be inside, sitting in foot-tapping positions, loud reggae music blaring from within. This breaks the ice. Suddenly, we feel a surge of pure joy. It washes over us, delirious, we feel those first tentative steps turn to strides. Into Africa.

Accra. Capital of modern day Ghana, Kingdom of the Ashanti warriors, is a reasonably well-kept secret. As you step out of the airport, you are greeted by a large throb of touts who will try to carry your trolley, get you a hotel, even help you find your car (as ours tried to). Fortunately, the impact of the landing was cushioned by the fact that the company MD himself, along with his main man, our Senior Art Director, were personally there to whisk us away in what they kept calling the company car (a battered VW Golf from the last millennium). Before long, we found ourselves in a western-style Serviced Apartment, complete with accoutrements.

So that was two-weeks ago. And now we’re two weeks old here, and already, the city feels so much more familiar. So how exactly IS this place like? For the abysmally low amount of footage that Accra/even Ghana seems to consume, I have to reiterate, this place is a well-kept secret. Roads are good, traffic is heavy, but orderly (left hand drive, lights work 24 hours, people follow rules, and honking is rare by Indian standards), quality of life seems fairly okay (no signs of those type of images one tends to see in UNESCO brochure covers), people drive good imported cars, and dress in western outfits, the women seem pretty progressive in their clothes, nails and manner. Western style shops, cafes and restaurants abound, and every day, we find a new place that feels more western than we expected to find around here. Yes, they have shopping malls, with giant Walmart style supermarket chains, and cinemaplexes too. There’s a bunch of nice hotels, with expatriates patronizing pool-side cafes and live jazz bands, all of that.

Yesterday, we visited the city beach, known as Labadi Beach. There is a great energy in these people, a rhythm that is unique to this part of the world, and music flows like water. Housing is expensive, and very upscale indeed. We are still struggling to find something that sits in our budget, the prices in the swanker parts of town are comparable to those in several western cities. The people here are friendly and well-mannered to a fault, although keeping time seems to be a challenge. They call it GMT (Ghana Maybe Time), because the country shares the same time zone as their erstwhile colonial masters.

The local currency is called Cedi (denoted by a C that’s cut vertically like a $). 1 Cedi roughly is 0.7$, or about Rs. 35. There are taxis available that may be flagged down from almost all areas, and although they are non-aircon, they are usually Toyota or VW, and fairly comfy. Best of all from our (rather narrow) perspective, there are some very good Indian restaurants in town, and two large Indian supermarkets that stocks everything from Kissan Jams to Kohinoor Atta, and everything in between. We’ve been told there is also an Indian cultural centre, where they are ‘having cultural programmes’. We have resisted the urge thus far, and have limited our socializing to Pakistani and French expatriates up until now. But it’s nice to know that there is a place we can go to when the inevitable crave for a Dosa, or a Dhokla strikes.

The ‘Office’ is a large two-storeyed bungalow with grounds that have eight fruit trees, including mango, avocado and lime. It is quite nice just to sit out and hear the birds twitter towards evening. The birds here are a sight to watch. The most common one, their equivalent of a sparrow I suppose, is a blue metallic double-toned colour. Also, there are these lizards which are multi-coloured blue/green that vignette to earth gold, extremely visually appealing to look at. The other thing about here. The business day begins strictly at 8 am. Again, bizarre fact for someone coming in from my part of the world, South Asia, where people saunter into work at around 11ish. Here, people (everybody) leaves home for work by 7 am, and all businesses are fully up and running by 8 am! And so I find my body clock completely changed, leaving the apartment by 7.45 am! Likewise, evenings post 5 pm are usually free (although how long my advertising job will allow for such luxury is probably not hard to imagine).

The nation is completely football crazy. The other day, we were at this place called Ryan’s Irish Pub, where I spotted some Wigan (Wigan?) fans actually cheering on during their Premiership game with Durham or some such, so you can well imagine the atmosphere during the bigger games. Everyone is extremely up to time on their soccer, and the Black Stars (the Ghanaian National team, fronted by Michael Essien and Stephen Ebebe) are a National treasure, and Chelsea the National Premiership team. As we arrive into the country, the Black Stars just beat the neighbouring Squirrels (The Benin National team for some reason carries the odd moniker), and have started their bid for a place in next year’s World Cup (to be held for the very first time in Africa, viz. South Africa) in a rather strong fashion. God forbid the guys make it to the World Cup Finals, for the strain of not doing so will surely out in ways I’d rather not imagine.

Today it rained for the first time, and it’s been raining all day long. We have spent the whole Easter weekend mostly reading, reflecting, and scribbling. They show ad-free films on the telly, so that is the other major pastime. G has been whipping up miraculous Indian khana like a maestro every now and again, today we had khichri for lunch on a rain-washed day. The pleasure of this, perhaps only an Indian will understand.

It still feels a little bit unreal. But in a nice way. One of these days, when my Pidgin picks up, I’ll probably be able to articulate it like a Ghanaian could.

Dat be da day.