Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Kente cloth is the traditional woven cloth of Ghana. There are debates on who makes the best Kente cloth… the Ashanti’s or the Ewe’s… and within each of those regions who makes the best. I can’t say I know the difference between the Ashanti Kente vs. the Ewe Kente, and I can’t even tell the difference in each of the regions.

the thread

the loom

my village's loan kente weaver



the final product

Getting caught in Accra right before Easter weekend is not a good idea… or rather trying to get a car out of Accra right before Easter weekend is not a good idea.

Normally if I get to the station by 12pm I can safely get a car to Hohoe and still catch a car to Kute. So when 11:30 rolled around and I was preparing to leave the Peace Corps Office I didn’t think twice about the religious holiday that was approaching. And when I couldn’t catch public transportation to the station I should have had some clue that the station was going to be crazy. But Easter weekend was never a big deal in my family… meaning we don’t ever travel… so the thought of Ghanaians wanting to spend this super religious holiday with their loved ones wasn’t crossing my mind.

After waiting about 45 minutes to catch a taxi… (Every taxi that pulled up refused to take us to the Volta station… should have been a clue)… and having to run from the taxi in the middle of traffic and walk the rest of the way to the station still didn’t seem like a big deal (Ghana is about the size of Oregon with almost 30 million people, so traffic in the capital is normal). I finally reached my station to see NO cars and a mob of people (well over 100 people) with luggage up the wazu just waiting. (There are a few different Volta Stations, all within one block of each other… and I normally go to the station that is off the radar, where I don’t get hassled, its easy to get to, and I can find an air conditioned car) My normal station, The Gardens, was just crawling with people. I started asking where people were going and they all said Hohoe… shit... then I asked how long people had been waiting and some said for over two hours… shit… (Normally I’m waiting for more people to fill the car, rather than waiting for a car). I found the master of the station and starting asking about getting to Hohoe and all he said was that there were no cars… then I asked about getting to Ho (Volta’s regional capital) and again he said that there were no cars, same with every major city that I pass through on my way to Hohoe. Then he pulled me aside and said go to the Tudu Station, a car will come but you must wait.

The Tudu Station is my least favorite station. People are always grabbing at you, it smells like urine, cars are everywhere, people are yelling, vender’s stands are over loaded with items they are trying to sell. It is a cramped place that is hard to meander through. This station always reminds me that I’m in Africa though (yes sometimes I still forget that I’m in Africa… especially after being in Accra). I found my way to the Hohoe section of the station only to find again NO CARS, and another mob of people. Panic was starting to set in. I needed to get back to my village… wanted to get back to my village. I searched out for the master of the station and told him that I HAD TO, NEEDED TO get to Hohoe. First he said that there were no cars to anywhere in the Volta, but I think he sensed my urgency and told me to wait small. Then he said to follow him.

We started to follow this blue van… it stopped and people stated crawling on top, going through the windows, hair was being pulled, elbows were being jabbed, people were shoving others aside, and yelling at the top of their lungs just to try and get a seat in the car. I have no sense on how to fight for a seat in a car. I’m used to lines, first come first serve, some sort of orderly manner… not in Ghana though. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing.

I still don’t know how I got a seat in this car, but after some more yelling, physically pulling people out of the car, I got a seat because the master of the station demanded that I get on this car (praise the lord as they would say in Ghana). The price was jacked up to almost double the normal price, and it was packed to the max… I was holding other people’s luggage on my lap, chickens were under the seats, parents were sitting with 2 kids on their lap… but I was in, I had a ride, I could still possible make it home.

I did eventually make it home… getting to my house around 8pm that night… after a ride from hell. The driver was driving like a mad man, chasing down cars (literally and then making them stop to yell at the driver of the other vehicle), and going through a horrendous rainstorm. Upon arrival in Hohoe, I made it to my station just in time to catch the last car, and get the last seat (praise the lord) to get home… long day.