Here are links to more information about some of the amazing people we met in Africa:
Enfants Oubliés du Bénin (Forgottten Children of Benin)
"Center for the Promotion of Arts, Crafts and Culture of Zou" - providing homes and schooling for orphaned children in Benin. Set up and managed by Janvier Houlonon, our fantastic tour leader in West Africa.
Jaynii Culture and Charity
Supporting orphans and street kids, and cleaning up the beach in front of the Jamestown lighthouse in Accra, Ghana - which is where we met this crew and learned about their work.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Africa. Dark, mysterious, dangerous. Dont believe a word of it. Its crap! Its bright, beautiful and it rocks. People do it hard here for sure but life is lived fully and with fervour. We visited just six of the forty two nation siblings of this massive and diverse continent but we've seen the family resemblance which ties it together and we like it! Progress rolls on, political passion is unbridled and people believe that not only can they make a difference it is their responsibility to do so. Thanks to each and every person we met on our journey. You are great ambassadors for your homelands. You love your countries and your continent and now we do too!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Cats in the Cradle
They call Tanzania the cradle of humanity. A million or more years ago early man was living it up close to what we now call the Serengeti National Park.
Our ancestors’ bones lie buried in the wrongly named Olduvai Gorge (the Maasi were actually saying oldupai), named not for its prehistoric pies, but for the oldupai plants which grow like massive, spiky aloe vera across the dry valley.
The elements have exposed a vertical time line in the rock; dry brown layers like a Schwarzwaldenkirschtorte. And for 50 odd years modern man has been digging up evidence of life in the layers. Australopithicus afarensis (the same species as the famous Lucy from Ethiopia), Homo habilis and finally our predecessor Homo erectus all lived there. They even left footprints that fossilised in the mud… it was erectus who, appropriately, first walked out of Africa.
Animals were living at Oldupai too, fantastic prehistoric versions of the ones we know today - weird looking horses, giraffes, giant pigs and of course big cats. So humans and lions have coexisted in the Serengeti for thousands if not millions of years.
It was and still is a strange and somewhat tense existence. No doubt those cats were hunting early man until man worked out how to sharpen rocks and thus a method of hunting lions. Later poachers, collectors and colonialists killed for trophies and cash rather than self defence. Maasi tradition still dictates that a man must kill a lion in order to get married; our tour leader Julius killed one, along with a group of other young men, so that he could marry his first wife.
Now lions are protected, instead hunted by tourists shooting with cameras not spears. For me those cats were the highlight of our safari - the lioness, standing on a rocky outcrop with her cubs, looking over the Serengeti (possibly eyeing off dinner: wildebeest on the horizon). And the bold cubs playing - just like Simba - in the Ngorongoro crater (on which the Lion King was based). Majestic cats. Little fluffy ones that could probably bite your hand off. Nice puddy!
Now if I could only get a new song in my head because ‘The Circle of Life’ is really getting tiresome…
Our ancestors’ bones lie buried in the wrongly named Olduvai Gorge (the Maasi were actually saying oldupai), named not for its prehistoric pies, but for the oldupai plants which grow like massive, spiky aloe vera across the dry valley.
The elements have exposed a vertical time line in the rock; dry brown layers like a Schwarzwaldenkirschtorte. And for 50 odd years modern man has been digging up evidence of life in the layers. Australopithicus afarensis (the same species as the famous Lucy from Ethiopia), Homo habilis and finally our predecessor Homo erectus all lived there. They even left footprints that fossilised in the mud… it was erectus who, appropriately, first walked out of Africa.
Animals were living at Oldupai too, fantastic prehistoric versions of the ones we know today - weird looking horses, giraffes, giant pigs and of course big cats. So humans and lions have coexisted in the Serengeti for thousands if not millions of years.
It was and still is a strange and somewhat tense existence. No doubt those cats were hunting early man until man worked out how to sharpen rocks and thus a method of hunting lions. Later poachers, collectors and colonialists killed for trophies and cash rather than self defence. Maasi tradition still dictates that a man must kill a lion in order to get married; our tour leader Julius killed one, along with a group of other young men, so that he could marry his first wife.
Now lions are protected, instead hunted by tourists shooting with cameras not spears. For me those cats were the highlight of our safari - the lioness, standing on a rocky outcrop with her cubs, looking over the Serengeti (possibly eyeing off dinner: wildebeest on the horizon). And the bold cubs playing - just like Simba - in the Ngorongoro crater (on which the Lion King was based). Majestic cats. Little fluffy ones that could probably bite your hand off. Nice puddy!
Now if I could only get a new song in my head because ‘The Circle of Life’ is really getting tiresome…
Top 5 songs to have stuck in your head on safari
1. ‘Africa’ – Toto
2. ‘The Circle of Life’ – Lion King soundtrack
3. ‘Atomic’ – Blondie
4. ‘Rapture’ – Blondie
5. ‘I Just Cant Wait to be King’ – Lion King soundtrack
2. ‘The Circle of Life’ – Lion King soundtrack
3. ‘Atomic’ – Blondie
4. ‘Rapture’ – Blondie
5. ‘I Just Cant Wait to be King’ – Lion King soundtrack
Serengeti pics
1 - View from our balloon ride across the Serengeti
2 - A lioness on the move
3 - An elephant, also moving
2 - A lioness on the move
3 - An elephant, also moving
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
Waftings and wanderings
They say in the good old days of Zanzibar that the sailors used to be able to smell the island’s famous spices from miles offshore. I’d put that one into the bullshit file pretty early on but after a couple of days in Stonetown, I may yet be convinced.
In this little melting pot of the Indian Ocean where African, Arabic, Indian and Asian culture have mixed seasonally from the better part of 1000 years to produce a unique blend all of its own, perhaps the smells of acres of clove plantations could have wafted up into the breeze and out to the odour-deprived sailing around on dhows in the ocean.
Smell, sight, and sound travel in strange ways here in Stonetown. Everything seems to be carried upwards rather than along the mazy lanes that mark this little part of the world. From our privileged position four floors up, the street sounds like a cacophony of conversation and laughter but at ground level you have to lean to hear the words. In early morning when the ringing of the Hindu temple and the call to prayer from the nearby mosque compete up above the street it sounds like a battle for sectarian bragging rights. In the laneways they are softer and they act as gentle reminders of religious observances.
The smell of the local food takes a similar journey upwards rather than along the streets. As for sight, from the balcony we can see that this labyrinth is much smaller than it would seem. The streets may be confusing but rarely overwhelming as you know that if you keep heading in the right direction, you will find your way. A bit like those sailors. Pick your star, follow it and let your nose do the rest.
Things in Stonetown have context from four floors up, but context is not as valuable as it would seem in a culture that lives lane to lane, tide to tide, monsoon wind to monsoon wind, and these days tourist to tourist.
In this little melting pot of the Indian Ocean where African, Arabic, Indian and Asian culture have mixed seasonally from the better part of 1000 years to produce a unique blend all of its own, perhaps the smells of acres of clove plantations could have wafted up into the breeze and out to the odour-deprived sailing around on dhows in the ocean.
Smell, sight, and sound travel in strange ways here in Stonetown. Everything seems to be carried upwards rather than along the mazy lanes that mark this little part of the world. From our privileged position four floors up, the street sounds like a cacophony of conversation and laughter but at ground level you have to lean to hear the words. In early morning when the ringing of the Hindu temple and the call to prayer from the nearby mosque compete up above the street it sounds like a battle for sectarian bragging rights. In the laneways they are softer and they act as gentle reminders of religious observances.
The smell of the local food takes a similar journey upwards rather than along the streets. As for sight, from the balcony we can see that this labyrinth is much smaller than it would seem. The streets may be confusing but rarely overwhelming as you know that if you keep heading in the right direction, you will find your way. A bit like those sailors. Pick your star, follow it and let your nose do the rest.
Things in Stonetown have context from four floors up, but context is not as valuable as it would seem in a culture that lives lane to lane, tide to tide, monsoon wind to monsoon wind, and these days tourist to tourist.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Ethiopia is...
dust, exhaust, agriculture, tiny child shepherds, pony carts, mules, injera (huge sour pancakes served with everything, the size of a family pizza), tibs (lamb stew), shiro (chickpea stew), altitude, burning sun, ice on the tent, cockroach hotels, bush stops, you pen? I am student, youyouyouyou! macchiato, coffee ceremonies, popcorn, macaroni, spaghetti, bright blue shawls, rock hard bread, fasting food (Wed and Fri), mended clothes, hat sellers, St George, Queen of Sheba, Arsenal, fussball, walia ibex, gelada baboons, lammergeyer, roadworks, blue and white Datsun 180B taxis, art deco in Addis Ababa.
Home among the Gum trees
When you eventually get to see our photos of Ethiopia I dare say you'll be taken by how much some of the landscapes look like our own humble land some half a world away.
The reason for this is two fold. The first is the climate is strangely similar to southern Australia. It is dry, and mild, generally pleasant. A typical day here in Addis is much like a nice autumn or spring day in Melbourne. Warm in the sun, cool out of it. It gets cool at night, but not icy cold. It's kind of strange that a place located only nine degrees north of the equator could be compared to a place around 37 degrees south. But the altitude drops the temperature and the humidity. The only difference is that it doesn't get as much regular rain (although Melbourne might be bridging the gap in that area).
The other obvious reason is the presence of the good old humble eucalypt tree. I would say that there are more gum trees per square km here then there are back home. So how did the long tall streaky Aussie make it all the way to Ethiopia? Well when they wanted Addis Ababa to be the new capital, there were concerns that there would not be enough firewood to support the expected growth in population. Five million years of primate occupation in this part of the world had seen much of the local trees used to either burn or build. So they came up with the theory they needed a fast growing tree which had good firewood properties. The humble Aussie won the nod and as soon as they could issue separation notices to the relevant koalas, the gum tree was on its way to Africa.
Like all ecology decisions made on the basis of political convenience it turned out to be a bit of stuff up. The eucalypts were planted too close together so they didn't grow as intended while they sucked a ton of moisture out of the ground. In a country where it rains only certain times of the year, they couldn't really afford to lose their ground water to a bunch of thirsty but well intentioned Aussies. The gum trees have made the most of it and now dominate the countryside. It like Shepherds Bush, in fact, given the amount of shepherds here, and the amount of bush the gum's now occupy, it is shepherds bush! Debre Markos now looks like the Dandenongs.
It's happened in a few other places around the world too, such as Madagascar. Just don't let the koalas in on the secret. Not too many predators in this part of the world, and if they weren't so stoned on the gum leaves, they might just up and leave.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Morning Song
What did you do with the doxycycline?
What did you do with the doxycycline?
What did you do with the doxycycline ear-ly in the mor-ning?
What did you do with the doxycycline?
What did you do with the doxycycline ear-ly in the mor-ning?
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Salem from the Queen of Sheba
Back in Addis Ababa, after our Ethiopia tour - what an amazing and unique country. We're both exhausted after a full-on two weeks, with long days driving on endless dirt roads, and the three-day Semien mountains trek which was hard yakka but definitely worth it. Proud to have backed up from a 22km day to slog up the near vertical, icy slope of Bwahit (second highest in Ethiopia at 4430m) for a spectacular view over the range. Thank god for the endlessly patient scout, who guided me down again, step by step for two hours, chatting away in Amharic and smiling a big gappy grin, thus avoiding broken ankles all the way.
We've been welcomed into the homes and hearts of people whose life is essentially unchanged in hundreds of years. In one mountain village we were invited into a mud hut by a woman we guessed was our age, but with six children and a lifetime's hard work and hot sun etched into her face. She roasted coffee beans, pounded them and brewed the coffee over a tiny open fire.
But we were at a loss to help a girl with an old dog bite on her inner thigh, abscessed and showing bone.
And we remembered that the life expectancy here is only 49.
But we also remember the strength, endurance and pride of the people, gorgeous kids smiling, waving and chatting with us everywhere we go (always, 'you pen!'), the beautiful rock churches from the 12th to 15th centuries with Biblical stories painted from ceiling to floor, spotting huge ibex on distant cliff tops, and jumping on cockroaches in the hotel room.
Thus we are treating ourselves to a few days at the Queen of Sheba hotel, where everything in the bathroom works, we have hot water and as yet have not seen a cockroach.
ethiopia pics
1-mantha on the edge of the abyssynian abyss 2- the holy trinity on the walls of debre berhan church in gonder 3- sunset at 3900m day one of the trek
Friday, November 14, 2008
Diesel and Dust: Addis to Kombolcha, November 9
The Shoan Plateau is the largest area of continuous altitude in all of Africa. It's also home to Africa's longest continuous roadworks. For five hours we ground our way ever upwards through a landscape something like a high altitude version of the Golden Plains Shire, sans canola and views of Mt Buninyong. The Ethiopians are better equipped than the roadworkers in Benin (who use watering cans to pour tar on the road), thanks to the Chinese contractors who have brought tonnes of machinery. Every section of roadworks has one Chinese man supervising or driving the largest dozer, which has sparked a unique game of 'spot the Chinese guy' to pass time in the car.
So our 4WD wound its way around endless potholes that even Togo would be proud of, as well as numerous other hazards, mainly livestock: goats, sheep, donkeys, cows, camels. Passing child shepherds barely older than Ayden, grinning and doing a lot more waving at us than herding their animals off the road.
It's a spectacular country, breathtaking not just for the scenery but also the altitude. We stopped to look out over a steep escapement down to the very northern end of the Rift Valley; at 3200m it was cold, windy and above the tree line. Not to high for the gelada baboons grazing on the steep slopes, and little furry critters we've dubbed 'fast wombats'. It was just the place for a hat, and what a choice, with a mob of kids trying hard to sell us horse hair hats woven with the colours of the national flag. My attempts to send a cooee down the gorge sent the hat sellers into hysterics... but there was no echo with the wind coming straight up the ravine and throwing my voice back at me.
We arrived at Kombolcha after 11 hours in the car, looking in amazement at the views and the all the gum trees, originally an idea to bring more firewood to the capital. Now the trees are planted everywhere, lending a bizarrely familiar aspect to the landscape. But that's not Mt Buninyong, that's the Rift Valley my friend! And the mountains stretch forever.
So our 4WD wound its way around endless potholes that even Togo would be proud of, as well as numerous other hazards, mainly livestock: goats, sheep, donkeys, cows, camels. Passing child shepherds barely older than Ayden, grinning and doing a lot more waving at us than herding their animals off the road.
It's a spectacular country, breathtaking not just for the scenery but also the altitude. We stopped to look out over a steep escapement down to the very northern end of the Rift Valley; at 3200m it was cold, windy and above the tree line. Not to high for the gelada baboons grazing on the steep slopes, and little furry critters we've dubbed 'fast wombats'. It was just the place for a hat, and what a choice, with a mob of kids trying hard to sell us horse hair hats woven with the colours of the national flag. My attempts to send a cooee down the gorge sent the hat sellers into hysterics... but there was no echo with the wind coming straight up the ravine and throwing my voice back at me.
We arrived at Kombolcha after 11 hours in the car, looking in amazement at the views and the all the gum trees, originally an idea to bring more firewood to the capital. Now the trees are planted everywhere, lending a bizarrely familiar aspect to the landscape. But that's not Mt Buninyong, that's the Rift Valley my friend! And the mountains stretch forever.
God and panel beating
Well after two days on appalling roads missing things by inches we eventually hit something by about five foot. The something was a bus coming in the opposite direction an the impact was at around 20kmh. All emerged unscathed apart from a banged up shin and a bit of whiplash on my behalf. How many people can say they have hit a bus head on at 2600m above sea level? The No.2 car (there are/were 4) which had been belching black smoke for the entire trip looked to have been put out of business for good. Piled into three cars, we headed to Lalibella where 800 years ago a crazy king thought it would be a good idea to carve a dozen churches out of rock. Like all crazy kings he had an army of servants at his disposal and the result is the most revered sites of the Ethiopian orthodox church. Day one saw us take in five. There was much talk about Jebus' suffering and men in robes pointing at crosses. After an afternoon spent in the shadow of death and resurrection, what should make and appearance on our walk back to the hotel, but Car No.2 sporting a facelift courtesy of a new bumper. But this was not a happy ending with driver and car dispatched back to Addis for breaking the mortal sin of the road. Hitting a bus head-on on a straight road. Day two in this pretty little town saw us revisit the kings penchant for hard tasks as we climbed a 3200m mountain to visit another church. It was a ridiculously spectacular and inconvenient place to put a place of worship. It was a tough three hour climb followed by a two hour hairy descent and a good pipe opener for the upcoming trek. Then it was more churches in the afternoon, but I have to admit my attention span was starting to wane. All this history plus men wandering pants-less down the main street was a bit hard to absorb. Luckily we had another 333km tour of Ethiopian roadworks to reflect on it all the next day.
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Jumping at Shadows
The clock in the Landcruisrer says 1215 and it's getting dark outside. 60km out of our destination of Kombolcha and entering hour 11 of our 373km journey and it looks as if all hell appears to break loose. Having successfully avoided a maze of livestock, about 200km of roadworks and kept a safe distance from the continually lolling head of the jetlagged Brit in the passenger seat, our Ethiopian driver was now attempting to repeat the day's feat only this time in the dark. The only contrast visible is the massive mountains against the dimming western sky and in even in the headlights it was impossible to distinguish between human, cow, camel, mule, sheep or goat on a chaotic road until it was too late. But to a soundrack of Bob Marley, our man drove it home. In
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24 years living next door to Addis (November 7)
In the spirit of pan-Africanism town planners in most African cities decided to honour the birth of African nationhood by naming streets after one another's countries. So here in
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Friday, November 7, 2008
Kicking back in Kokrobite
In contrast to the preceding two weeks, the past five days have seen us do as little as possible, while watching others do as little as possible. Welcome to Kokrobite, where the lack of activity from the locals is only matched by the lack of activity from the tourists. Palm trees, fishing boats, Rasta dudes everywhere. My personal highlight was watching five of the aforesaid Rasta men attempt to push start a car which was going around in circles in the car park in order to avoid the litany of palm trees. It was good to see people with whiter legs and worse fashion sense than us. (God bless the Germans). Thoroughly chilled (in a metaphorical way) we now head to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia and a whole new mystery (By the way, Bart’s 12th Cup didn’t get a mention locally but some guy won the US election and he is pretty popular in these parts. Our waiter tells us he will be offering visas to all Africans.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
West Africa
The past two weeks have flown by and the multitude of experiences we have had are not only too numerous to record here, but are nearly too numerous for us to remember. In summary we travelled 3300km in 13 days on our first tour through Ghana, Togo and Benin and were completely overwhelmed by the atmosphere of this extraordinary part of the world. With the brilliant guidance of Janvier, our Beninois tour leader and the patient driving skills of our Togolese man at the wheel Comi we have seen everthing we could have wished to have seen. I have been taking notes on our travels via predictive text on my mobile and I have transcribed them below. Samantha has made her own notes and will hopefully upload her thoughts over the next few days as we kick back and relax at the beach. Read what you like, I know there's a lot to take in and please email us if you have any questions. Enjoy, I know we did.
Kumasi - Sunday October 19, Monday October 20.
Kumasi on first appearances seems a nicer city than Accra. I guess that comes from being at the centre of a monarchy (Ashanti) rather than at the centre of a republic. While presidents build monuments to their temporary greatness (these often date so quickly), kings have a whole lifetime to create a legacy. It is a well set out city and has a classic feel to it, with more double story buildings making for less sprawl. That's with the excpetion of the massive market which makes the Vic market look like a postage stamp. It occupies the entire city centre and has to be seen to be believed. It is literally miles across and is pulsing with people selling and carrying everything you can think of. One women had 30 empty 4L bottles on her head making her total height around 12 foot. Others were carrying entire dining sets, tables chairs and all. The colour and commotion was overwhelming, especially when you consider that this market has been like this for over 400 years. It was the climax to a day which began on sleppy Lake Bosumtwi on a boat with a man named George. The village would have seemed the most peaceful place on earth if not for the man ranting at us from a crudely shaped log canoe. Even when we were back on shore he continued to yell at us from 100m away on the water. There's one in every town I suppose. Up the road we stopped to taste some undistilled palm wine. Having tasted the distilled version a day earlier and determined that its best use would be for thinning paint, we were more impressed by this version, which was sweet. Drinking sweet wine from a Calabash in the beautiful bush with the cacophony of nature around us, this was a really authentic experience .... until the boy's mobile rang. Guess the palm wine business has reached the 21st century.
Born and Bread - On the road from Accra to Lome - October 23
Sogokope is apparently Ghana's bread basket. Any traveller is expected to pick of a loaf on the way through this otherwise unremarkable town by the Volta River. But quality comes at a price and in this town the price is being mobbed by up to 20 female bread sellers. Comi and Janvier opened their windows only to have multiple loaves thrown in front of them. It was like a reverse feeding frenzy. Comi is the coolest of customers but even he was a intimidated by the swarm of Bakeresses enveloping his Toyota. Their sales technique consited of throwing bread in the van and then demanding payment. Ten minutes and lots of squealing and shouting later Janvier had exchanged a couple of Cedi for a few loaves and we were on our way. Let's hope Baker's Delight don't cotton onto this ambush marketing thing!
Voodoo Land - Lome to Ouidah - October 24
From Lome we headed east and then north along a dusty track. We stopped and Comi, who had said about two words to us in English to this point, doubled his tally with the phrase 'good luck'. Ominous! We didn't know what we were getting ourselves into, apart from a rickety conoe pointed in the direction of about 30 miles of swamp. We learned that our young oarsman was setting course for the village of Lebe, which was isolated from the rest of the world apart from a 20 minute canoe ride or a horrific 90 minute 4wd expedition. We had chosen the right means of transportation. I endulged in a little African fantasy, feeling like a mini-Marlow on my way to meet Colonel Kurtz in our own heart of darkness. But instead of meeting a crazy white man, we were on course for a voodoo ceremony. Up a goat track and through a maze of village buildings we were greeted by children echoeing the universal term from white man in the place 'Yovo'. The ceremeony was breathtakingly intense. Broken glass chewed on, cut black skin bleeding bright red, trances leaving people prone to be carried off and revived. Drums and drums and drums and drums, and singing and wide eyed kids lost in the whirl of colour and sound. Marratives played out in 1000 mini-scenes. A man smashes a bottle over his head while a women covers herself in corn starch. It's half pathos and half ritual and 100 per cent compelling.
As we make our way back through the reeds in the still water, there is reflection and plenty of respect.
Benin and Out - Ouidah to Dassa - October 25
Ouidah was at the heart of the slave trade and is at the centre of the voodoo culture. Millions marched through this seaside town on their way to untold misery in Brazil and the Caribbean but that only served to spread and to strengthen this remarkable culture. The Royal Pythons freaked me out a little, as did the fact that they were free to leave their little temple and wander the streets of Ouidah in search of a feed. Samantha was not intimidated and even had one of the holy snakes draped around her gregory peck. She's not scared of much. Another boat ride to a fantastical place, this time the village of Ganvie, completely built on stils at housing around 30,000. Mama Em drove a hard bargain on Samantha's tablecoth and Comi then drove a mean highway through to Abomey where the fierce and legendary Dahomey Kings ruled for a few hundred years and left their stories like Mambo figures on the castle walls. We rest in Dassa for the night craving Afro-French cuisine and a good night's sleep.
Up North - Taneka and the foothills of the Arakora Mountains - October 26 and 27 (Still don't know who won the Cox Plate)
Djougou is a dry and dusty town fed by the highway which runs through it. In the mid-afternoon sun the locals seek shade wherever they can and we stop to barter for knick knacks while little joe, our travelling cook, buys the lamb for tonight's meal, our first under the African stars. At the town of Kopargo, the locals turn decidedly friendly. Beautiful Tuareg women stop and gawk and the vanful of travelling Yovo. We buy ice and head down a dirt road to the village of Taneka. We camp at the primary school and kids soom stream from the cuttings in the cornfields and just hang about and look. Tents set up we head to the village to be met by more kids and two chiefs. The first is the spiritual chief, who wears nothing but goat skin and puffs on a large pipe. (He also has to collect his own waste, tough job that) The other is the chief of the village, a huge man in colourful clothing and outrageous sandals. On the wall of his mud hut are the mobile numbers of the other surrounding chiefs written in chalk. He proudly points to his own. The translation is from the local dialect into French and then French into English, it's like Chinese whispers but we think we get what he means. The kids don't want to let our hands go but one by one they drop off and leave us to walk back along a track framed by 10 foot grass on either side. In the morning we watch the kids sing the national anthem and it's all a little special. We then go north through Naititiangou and to another village. It's bloody hot and we seek shelter and like like lazy lions for the day. Late afternoon we wander through the villages of Tata, castle like structure built to keep out the slave raiders. The local women then put on a dance which is designed to put them on show for possible marraige. Sam joins in briefly. I'll take the little white one thanks, she looks perdy! Tomorrow we farewell Benin and cross back to Togo.
Life wasn't meant to be Togoleasy - October 28 and 29 - (Maldivian apparently, glad I wasn't there) Togo is the great land of contrasts. Even Comi conceded his country has been stuffed by a succession of autocrats who have run it. 'Ghana rich, Benin rich, Togo, no money. Big Houses, but no money' Togo has no shortage of remarkable colonial buildings but the roads are dreadful. The former president was able to build an international airport in his home town but was unable to find a single bit of tarmac to patch up the disgraceful national highways. Apparently the new bloke, the old leader's son, is better but if you'll excuse my cynicism, the only differnce between an idealistic autocrat and a despotic mad man is the amount of time they have been in office. Speaking of mad men, we watched and extraordinary night time fire eating show near Sokode. These guys were eating burning wood like they were Mars Bars. They chewed on the coals and lay on the fire laughing. It was showmanship Togo style. These guys are so engaged in ritual and spiritual life, but they are are disengaged when it comes to politics, unlike the vibrant democracies of Ghana and Benin. Surrounded by beautiful mountains we bumped and swerved our way to Kpalime and then up into the hills where the rain is falling so hard it feels like it will never stop. Tomorrow we are back into Ghana where the language is easier to speak but the food is harder to eat.
Kumasi - Sunday October 19, Monday October 20.
Kumasi on first appearances seems a nicer city than Accra. I guess that comes from being at the centre of a monarchy (Ashanti) rather than at the centre of a republic. While presidents build monuments to their temporary greatness (these often date so quickly), kings have a whole lifetime to create a legacy. It is a well set out city and has a classic feel to it, with more double story buildings making for less sprawl. That's with the excpetion of the massive market which makes the Vic market look like a postage stamp. It occupies the entire city centre and has to be seen to be believed. It is literally miles across and is pulsing with people selling and carrying everything you can think of. One women had 30 empty 4L bottles on her head making her total height around 12 foot. Others were carrying entire dining sets, tables chairs and all. The colour and commotion was overwhelming, especially when you consider that this market has been like this for over 400 years. It was the climax to a day which began on sleppy Lake Bosumtwi on a boat with a man named George. The village would have seemed the most peaceful place on earth if not for the man ranting at us from a crudely shaped log canoe. Even when we were back on shore he continued to yell at us from 100m away on the water. There's one in every town I suppose. Up the road we stopped to taste some undistilled palm wine. Having tasted the distilled version a day earlier and determined that its best use would be for thinning paint, we were more impressed by this version, which was sweet. Drinking sweet wine from a Calabash in the beautiful bush with the cacophony of nature around us, this was a really authentic experience .... until the boy's mobile rang. Guess the palm wine business has reached the 21st century.
Born and Bread - On the road from Accra to Lome - October 23
Sogokope is apparently Ghana's bread basket. Any traveller is expected to pick of a loaf on the way through this otherwise unremarkable town by the Volta River. But quality comes at a price and in this town the price is being mobbed by up to 20 female bread sellers. Comi and Janvier opened their windows only to have multiple loaves thrown in front of them. It was like a reverse feeding frenzy. Comi is the coolest of customers but even he was a intimidated by the swarm of Bakeresses enveloping his Toyota. Their sales technique consited of throwing bread in the van and then demanding payment. Ten minutes and lots of squealing and shouting later Janvier had exchanged a couple of Cedi for a few loaves and we were on our way. Let's hope Baker's Delight don't cotton onto this ambush marketing thing!
Voodoo Land - Lome to Ouidah - October 24
From Lome we headed east and then north along a dusty track. We stopped and Comi, who had said about two words to us in English to this point, doubled his tally with the phrase 'good luck'. Ominous! We didn't know what we were getting ourselves into, apart from a rickety conoe pointed in the direction of about 30 miles of swamp. We learned that our young oarsman was setting course for the village of Lebe, which was isolated from the rest of the world apart from a 20 minute canoe ride or a horrific 90 minute 4wd expedition. We had chosen the right means of transportation. I endulged in a little African fantasy, feeling like a mini-Marlow on my way to meet Colonel Kurtz in our own heart of darkness. But instead of meeting a crazy white man, we were on course for a voodoo ceremony. Up a goat track and through a maze of village buildings we were greeted by children echoeing the universal term from white man in the place 'Yovo'. The ceremeony was breathtakingly intense. Broken glass chewed on, cut black skin bleeding bright red, trances leaving people prone to be carried off and revived. Drums and drums and drums and drums, and singing and wide eyed kids lost in the whirl of colour and sound. Marratives played out in 1000 mini-scenes. A man smashes a bottle over his head while a women covers herself in corn starch. It's half pathos and half ritual and 100 per cent compelling.
As we make our way back through the reeds in the still water, there is reflection and plenty of respect.
Benin and Out - Ouidah to Dassa - October 25
Ouidah was at the heart of the slave trade and is at the centre of the voodoo culture. Millions marched through this seaside town on their way to untold misery in Brazil and the Caribbean but that only served to spread and to strengthen this remarkable culture. The Royal Pythons freaked me out a little, as did the fact that they were free to leave their little temple and wander the streets of Ouidah in search of a feed. Samantha was not intimidated and even had one of the holy snakes draped around her gregory peck. She's not scared of much. Another boat ride to a fantastical place, this time the village of Ganvie, completely built on stils at housing around 30,000. Mama Em drove a hard bargain on Samantha's tablecoth and Comi then drove a mean highway through to Abomey where the fierce and legendary Dahomey Kings ruled for a few hundred years and left their stories like Mambo figures on the castle walls. We rest in Dassa for the night craving Afro-French cuisine and a good night's sleep.
Up North - Taneka and the foothills of the Arakora Mountains - October 26 and 27 (Still don't know who won the Cox Plate)
Djougou is a dry and dusty town fed by the highway which runs through it. In the mid-afternoon sun the locals seek shade wherever they can and we stop to barter for knick knacks while little joe, our travelling cook, buys the lamb for tonight's meal, our first under the African stars. At the town of Kopargo, the locals turn decidedly friendly. Beautiful Tuareg women stop and gawk and the vanful of travelling Yovo. We buy ice and head down a dirt road to the village of Taneka. We camp at the primary school and kids soom stream from the cuttings in the cornfields and just hang about and look. Tents set up we head to the village to be met by more kids and two chiefs. The first is the spiritual chief, who wears nothing but goat skin and puffs on a large pipe. (He also has to collect his own waste, tough job that) The other is the chief of the village, a huge man in colourful clothing and outrageous sandals. On the wall of his mud hut are the mobile numbers of the other surrounding chiefs written in chalk. He proudly points to his own. The translation is from the local dialect into French and then French into English, it's like Chinese whispers but we think we get what he means. The kids don't want to let our hands go but one by one they drop off and leave us to walk back along a track framed by 10 foot grass on either side. In the morning we watch the kids sing the national anthem and it's all a little special. We then go north through Naititiangou and to another village. It's bloody hot and we seek shelter and like like lazy lions for the day. Late afternoon we wander through the villages of Tata, castle like structure built to keep out the slave raiders. The local women then put on a dance which is designed to put them on show for possible marraige. Sam joins in briefly. I'll take the little white one thanks, she looks perdy! Tomorrow we farewell Benin and cross back to Togo.
Life wasn't meant to be Togoleasy - October 28 and 29 - (Maldivian apparently, glad I wasn't there) Togo is the great land of contrasts. Even Comi conceded his country has been stuffed by a succession of autocrats who have run it. 'Ghana rich, Benin rich, Togo, no money. Big Houses, but no money' Togo has no shortage of remarkable colonial buildings but the roads are dreadful. The former president was able to build an international airport in his home town but was unable to find a single bit of tarmac to patch up the disgraceful national highways. Apparently the new bloke, the old leader's son, is better but if you'll excuse my cynicism, the only differnce between an idealistic autocrat and a despotic mad man is the amount of time they have been in office. Speaking of mad men, we watched and extraordinary night time fire eating show near Sokode. These guys were eating burning wood like they were Mars Bars. They chewed on the coals and lay on the fire laughing. It was showmanship Togo style. These guys are so engaged in ritual and spiritual life, but they are are disengaged when it comes to politics, unlike the vibrant democracies of Ghana and Benin. Surrounded by beautiful mountains we bumped and swerved our way to Kpalime and then up into the hills where the rain is falling so hard it feels like it will never stop. Tomorrow we are back into Ghana where the language is easier to speak but the food is harder to eat.
Pics from Benin, Togo and Ghana
1 - School kids in Taneka in Benin sing the national anthem at school assembly
2 - 'Togo rock' and Togo does rock, the land of potholes produces a considerable road hazard
3 - The Wli waterfall in Eastern Ghana, it goes off!
2 - 'Togo rock' and Togo does rock, the land of potholes produces a considerable road hazard
3 - The Wli waterfall in Eastern Ghana, it goes off!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
togo is...
dusty streets, potholes, no drains, birds so hot they sit with their legs stuck out, beautiful yellow sandy beaches, aqua coloured gulf of guinea, small scale agriculture on the roadsides, motorbikes and vespas, baguettes, voodoo shrines, calls to prayer, fake rolex for sale, loud shirts, men in matching shirt and pant combos, palm trees, unmade roads.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Things we're eating
Whole fried snapper, red red (bean stew in chilli oil) (with and without fish head), fried plantains (bananas), fried yam, fries, yam fries, cassava fries, cacao seeds fresh from the tree, palm oil, palm wine, palm liqueur called "kill me quick", beef stew (in chilli oil), chicken kebabs, jollof rice (spicy west african paella), fried rice, charcoal-grilled chicken, chicken in chilli oil, pizza, club sandwiches, mandarins, pineapple, local beers - Star, Club, Gulder, Smirnoff Ice (no so icy).
a lap around ghana
1- hold on baby one of kumasi markets youngest 2- sunset at elmina 3- fish market at elmina 
Sunday, October 19, 2008
accra pics
pic 1 -view of jamestown from top of lighthouse pic 2 - the fishing boats going out pic 3 - mantha and her lunch of red red 
Saturday, October 18, 2008
50 ways to lose your cedi
The Togo embassy didnt match Benin in terms of football knowledge but was miles above when it came to milking plenty out of us. That might explain the more opulant surroundings. After filling out three forms we were told that we would need to pay in cfa, the togo currency. On asking the gate guard where the nearest forex was we were told that conveniently he had the required amount in his pocket. He was a little to quick to convert for my liking and the price looked as convincing as a tab sportsbet fixed odds market but what can you do. We took the unders and now have a Togo visa. Leave Accra tomorrow so we won't be in touch for a few days. By the way i managed to get on Boundless in the Caulfield Cup thanks to Betfair mobile. Togolese gate guards, kiwi mares, overpriced t shirts from persistent street touts, there's a thousand ways to do your dough in this town.
Friday, October 17, 2008
by the way benin embassy rocks. We got a visa in 3 hours and my good friend behind the counter even had time to chat about the socceroos. He was very concerned about Viduka's heel and wanted to know how harry was doing at galatasaray. Had we not been both dripping with sweat there is no doubt we would have exchanged opinions on pim's use of two holding midfielders. Will let you know how togo fares in comparison.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Night one
Monday, October 13, 2008
At last
Good news! We have our passports back, ready to depart in 12 hours. The Ethiopian consulate may just be the best ever. We went there this morning for visas which were processed on the spot, in under half an hour. Take note, France!
Thursday, October 9, 2008
It's not much of a Cheese Shop then, is it??
Dealing with the French consulate has proved to be stressful, illogical and ultimately pointless. It's like being trapped in a Monty Python sketch - think Cheese Shop. Except I don't even get to yell at anyone because I can't ring the visa section. They don't have a phone number. Right. Good. Thank god for Dayana, poor woman in the press office, who has been forced to answer my calls after my dubious introduction name dropping ABC Radio. Well, I'm getting desperate. Better cross your fingers folks because at this point our passports wont be back till Monday (even then, sans Togo visas) and yes, we leave on Monday. SHUT THAT BLOODY BOUZOUKI UP!! My head hurts. I'm going to bed.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Ever closer
Well, we are less than a week away from departure, and things are getting frantic and exciting all at the same time. Frantic because of our bon amies at the French Embassy who have stuffed us around. Passports will hopefully arrive back Friday with Togo visa in toe (we should have asked for it 'to go') and then it's off to the Ethiopian and Tanzanian consulates. Hopefully it all comes together in time, but with a bit of help from Rosemary, we should be all fine. Will save our feelings on our French freres for another time but needless to say 'Libertie, Egalitie and Fraternite' do not apply to the visa department. Samantha, god bless her, consoled herself by getting all French herself with some creative work with the guillotine this arvo. Hell hath no fury as a sleep-deprived radio producer with sharp stationary at hand. For those who have been asking, we will have a daily itinerary up shortly, hopefully over the weekend.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Good so far
Is it a good idea to have two journos blogging on the same site? Already there are differences of opinion and we haven't left the couch. Which font? Serif or sans serif? Shouldn't there be a space before that hyphen? And is that how you spell hyphen? Looking fwd to arguments on points of grammar and syntax all the way around the African continent.
Links to our tours
Here are the links to the three tours we will be taking while in Africa.
West Africa - Ghana, Togo, Benin
http://www.imaginative-traveller.com/trips/MTKI
Ethiopia - Semien Mountains
http://www.gapadventures.com/tour/DEN
Tanzania ex Nairobi
http://www.intrepidtravel.com/trips/YSA
West Africa - Ghana, Togo, Benin
http://www.imaginative-traveller.com/trips/MTKI
Ethiopia - Semien Mountains
http://www.gapadventures.com/tour/DEN
Tanzania ex Nairobi
http://www.intrepidtravel.com/trips/YSA
Intro
Well, this is the trip we have been waiting for a long time. and hopefully, we can keep you all up to date on our travels and adventures in africa. Attached are some maps of where we are going on our travels and some links to our itineraries
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