Thursday, August 8, Accra, Ghana

More nomads

The oldest man in the village. 

I've been remiss the last few days. I'm mentally on my way home already but physically I'm at the same hostel where I started my journey six weeks ago. It's a fun place, filled with travelers and volunteers from all over the world.
I left Togo on Tuesday and headed for a monkey sanctuary in eastern Ghana. It was great fun having monkeys crawl on my shoulder to eat bananas out of my hand.

I also visited a village of weavers. In this case the men do most of the weaving though they allow some women to participate. They keep them physically segregated, the men in a small factory, the women in the village. 

I have several more photos I'd like to stick in here though they don't fit chronologically:

I loved this little girls hairstyle. She was from a voodoo village in Togo.

Monday, August 5; Togo

I had three marvelous days trekking the central areas of Togo. I am going to try to tell much of the story in photos. Loic Henry and his wife run a small business (1001 Pistes) guiding tourists around Togo. They've been at it for decades. I signed on for three days.
I was dubious about Loic's suggestion for Day 1. He wanted to take me to "voodoo villages", places where voodoo was the predominant religion.
We set out in a four-wheel drive, journeying out of the Lome megalopolis and into a vast floodplain north of the city. This was a different world. No electricity, no television, of course, few automobiles, few White people. In fact White people were so rare that whenever kids saw us driving by they'd begin chanting, "Whites, Whites" spontaneously.
I soon learned that Loic had friends in just about every village in the region. And he supplemented his relationships with a trick of the trade. Each time he entered a village he'd take many photographs. Then, when he returned with some other tourist, he'd search out the people he'd photographed and present them with the finished product. Since no one in this world had a camera it made him an instant celebrity. And it allowed him to interview just about anyone in the village. Whatever he learned he translated to me. We spent the first day doing all this. I got a crash course in life in rural Togo.
It's not a bad life, I learned. Food is abundant. And there is no monoculture like so much of the Third World that I've visited. In Guatemala, for instance, the land is nearly consumed with maize. But in Togo a single village might have 30-40 different crops. Pineapple, guava, watermelon, tomato, maize, mango,  coconut, cassava root, potato, the list goes on.
Western religions don't seem to have taken over this region, either. There are Catholic churches and the Mormons are, of course, always trying to make inroads. But voodoo seems secure. Every village had its fetishes, carved or forged or molded images meant to keep away evil spirits. Somewhere within the village is a small building housing more fetishes.
The people I met were seemingly happy, healthy, and content. The only modern affectations were an occasional motorcycle and ubiquitous cell phones.
The people were as friendly and welcoming as you could imagine. I enjoyed the whole day.
The next day we spent farther north in more villages. The one that really stood out for me was a gathering of nomads. These people drove herds of zebu, an African antelope, from the Eastern Sahara to Togo, wherever the grass was. Ethnically they are very unique, a cross between Arabs and Africans. They dress beautifully with dazzling colors. Loic pointed out that they had no wells and had to fetch water from 4-5 kilometers distant from their settlement. This they did every day to keep those clothes clean. It was a great opportunity for me to see a civilization that I could never have imagined or been close to on my own.
The third day we did a strenuous drive and hike into the hinterland northwest of Lome. We were seeking a towering waterfall that forms part of the border between Ghana and Togo. My legs had a very hard time on the downward walk, along the rim of a mountain. I staggered to the falls where we found a secluded spot for lunch. The walk back up the mountain seemed impossible when we started but, surprisingly, was easier than the descent. The pool in front of the waterfall was filled with cold, clear water and a cooling mist that actually made the air cold.
It was three days well spent, memories that will stay with me the rest of my life. I was very glad I'd found Loic and his wife.
I plan to post as many photos of these three days as I can given the very slow wifi connection I have at the hotel. With luck I'll get 15 or 20 pictures up.

On our second day we visited a village of nomads, ethnically a mix of  middle eastern and african. They drove their zebu from near the Sahara to Togo, following the grass. I never met any group of people who were more elegantly dressed. 

Rosa lived in a village near the top of a mountain. We stopped here on our way to the waterfall.

On the first day we visited several voodoo villages. The girl in front was the daughter of a chief, I think. On the right   is Loic, my guide. 

On the third day we walked for several hours to reach this waterfall on the Ghana border. 

Sitting in front of the village fetish.

The chief's wife from one of the first villages we visited. She and her daughter operate the small grocery store which you see here.

Si

I wonder if the Steinbrenners got their percentage of this hat.

Another nomad girl.