Back to Accra and the Cultural Market

Sunday July 27^th 

Angela's husband met us for breakfast and a short visit before we loaded up and headed off by convoy to Accra. The ride was the usual visually stimulating trip. We arrived at the same hotel that we were at the first week, the Coconut Grove. We settled into our rooms and then had lunch in the restaurant. For the afternoon, six of us decided to go to the cultural market to buy souvenirs. I went with Angela and Barb in one taxi and Owen went with Cindy and Leah so that we had a man in each group. Our taxi driver told us he knew where he was going but clearly didn't and had to beep at other taxi drivers on the road and ask for directions, and then he went to the wrong market place before he finally figured it out. Then he had to go back and get the other group. As soon as we arrived we were accosted by a guy who asked where we were from. When I said Ontario he asked if I knew Orillia, Timmins, Coburg, and a few other towns. He said he knew the capital of every province, so Barb asked about the Yukon and he replied ‘that's not a province it is a territory!’ It's all to get your attention and to build a relationship with you so they can lead you through the maze to their shop. This market sells all things African: clothing, shoes, jewelry, wood work and material. We found a good stall with lots of the beaded earrings I was looking for. The three of us bought about twenty pair and were able to bargain a good price. Once we started to buy we were surrounded and talked to by a rotating series of hawkers. Some were fun to talk to, others were more insistent, but most stopped when you told them you were not interested in buying whatever, but another would just take his place. They kept addressing me as Papa, which they use as a term of respect apparently (as I was told afterwards), but I thought they used it for an old man, and I got tired of it, so I said “don't call me Papa”, so they used uncle, brother or friend. One Rasta asked how I was and I told him I was tired of being accosted, he smiled and placed his finger to his lips to signal he wouldn't talk to me, but he didn't go away, he just waited his turn. I hadn't experienced this level of intensity since Morocco or maybe India. I bought earrings, a Ghana soccer shirt for Danny, a kenti cloth bag, bracelets, and money purses.

We met up with Owen, Cindy and Leah right at the end and we walked across the street to hail cabs. We got in a cab and gave him our hotel card, but he still didn't know where it was, but he drove off anyway and flagged down a couple more cabs until he figured out where we were going.

Back at the hotel we went for a swim before dinner. We ate outside at the bar and had a couple of drinks. When it was just Owen, Angela and Barb, I showed them some pictures of India before bed.