A Comprehensive Guide on How to Survive My House

Life out here is not life as we, at home in the UK, know it. I have therefore decided to write a Comprehensive Survival Guide for all of my followers, in case the pain of missing me becomes too much and you have to fly to Ghana and my eagerly awaiting arms. (If you are actually going to take this course of action, bring me a Mars Bar).

• When approaching the house, take care of the goats. They're normally standing around on large piles of sand looking rather startled about how they got up there. They get down by hurling themselves off the top of the piles with gay abandon; don't get in the way of it.
  

• As you step into the hallway of the house, don't walk anywhere straight away- you've got to give your eyes about thirty seconds to adjust to the gloom after the brightness of the sun. The fact that I came in at three in the afternoon last week to encounter a very confused bat swooping up and down the corridor should illustrate how extreme the change is. Don't worry if there are bats; they won't crash into you.
  

• Do not walk straight into the shower, ESPECIALLY after dark. Carefully push open the door and make a preliminary scan of the room for cockroaches. They are normally around 5cm long, so easy enough to spot, but it is imperative that you don't tread on them. When crushed their eggs are released everywhere. Make sure you check the corners of the room for frogs; treading on them isn't much fun either.

• If the bathroom is clear, proceed. If there are frogs, chase them out and around the corner into the garage. If there are cockroaches, only an industrial spray of Deet will take them down. Check the back of the door for cockroaches- they're the same colour as the wood, so look CAREFULLY before you hang your towel or dressing gown up. Keep an eye on the cracks in the wall while showering in case anything else emerges.
  

• The toilet should also be treated with extreme caution after dark. As with the shower, make another preliminary sweep; in this room you are more likely to encounter large spiders than cockroaches. They particularly enjoy hiding on the inside of the toilet roll- BE AWARE of this!
  

• Before opening the bedroom door, bash it a couple of times to alert the mice to the fact that you are coming in.
  

• Before going to sleep at night, use plastic bags or used water sachets to stuff all the gaps in the doorframe and between the walls and ceiling. This makes it more difficult for the mice to get inside.
  

• If, however, the mice find a way in, or you inadvertently barricaded the little bastards in with you when you blocked the room up, there are several available options open to you.

1. Ignore them and go to sleep. They normally eat the paint off the doorframe, which makes an irritating scratching sound, but if you can get past that, they shouldn't be too much of a problem.
   
2. Try to TAKE THE BUGGERS DOWN! Here is my tried and tested method;
   

• lie very quietly with a torch in your hand, and several Heavy Objects nearby. Listen very carefully to the scratching, and make as close a guess as you can to where the mouse is.
  
• Once you think you have located the mouse, sit up as fast as you can, and simultaneously beam the torch and hurl the Heavy Object in the appropriate direction. For added effect, throw in a kamikaze-style yell;
  

YEEAAAAAAAAAARRRRGH!

• So far I have never been able to actually hit any mice through this method, but My Roomie and I, aided by 'An Utterly Impartial History Of Britain' lent to us by The Scientist, did manage to chase a one out of the room last night.

• Be very careful of the electric fan unless you have a comprehensive knowledge of how live wires should be inserted into a plug socket. My Roomie and I have suffered multiple electrocutions for the sake of a gentle breeze.
  

• Be prepared for numerous power cuts, particularly during the rainstorms. Followers should also note that rainstorms will often result in the bedroom being completely flooded. If there are any signs of rain, you MUST remember to close the windows. Store all electrical appliances on top of suitcases, beds or chairs, to avoid further electrocution.
  

Aside from this, there's not much more advice I can think of at the moment. The sun has been masked by a faint haze ever since the weekend. I'm experimenting with skipping workouts instead of my early morning jogging, and bringing jazz dance out onto the front porch for the amusement of the local children in the evening. We are gearing up for our big Travelling Experience over the next six to eight weeks. My garbled Twi constantly amuses the community; but despite my pasty exterior making me stick out like a sore thumb, I feel like I belong here.

This is my place now.

Bye bye, swallows...

When I first arrived in Achiase the air was teeming with swallows, looping and soaring around the roofs of the houses. There was something very gratifying about the fact that they really do come to Africa in the winter. It was like having friends from home around to keep an eye on me. Now, without my noticing, the swallows have left- clearly sensing the change in season back home, and somehow knowing it's time to begin the migration back to Europe.

There are only two seasons in Ghana; the dry, and the wet. The dry season will last until early May. It is very, very hot. A sticky heat, that clings to you throughout the day. In the early afternoon it's too unbearable to go outside, but it's also the time when My Roomie and I go staggering home from school, gasping for breath and waving feebly at the cries of 'Obruni!' Occasionally I think I've just about mastered the heat; then there comes an absolute scorcher of a day, when I can do little more than lie on the front porch moaning, with a cold flannel over my face.

I go out jogging several mornings a week to help deal with any neurosis over gaining weight, (fuelled by My Roomie, who loves to tell me what a fatty I'm going to become if I keep eating so much). I get out on the road at around six am, the only time of day cool enough for exercise, and go pacing down the hill to the military barracks and back. At this time the day is only just beginning, and the sun hangs on the horizon like a huge golden bauble while the clouds cut swathes across the sky. It's beautiful.

Unfortunately, jogging is a completely alien concept to Ghanaian people. Once I'm out on the road, I can instantly feel a multitude of astonished stares burning into the back of my head, and a silent exclamation of what on EARTH is she doing?? All the men walking to work with machetes in their hands cheer as I go charging past them, and hoot "Go on! Go on!" So nice that I can bring a little amusement to their morning. Even worse is when a soldier goes walking past- because then I can't stop running, even if my head is about to explode with the pressure. I can't seem like a weakling in front of them; they're all huge and scary looking, dressed in khaki and enormous combat boots.

Despite all this, I can generally manage the run to the barracks without too much trouble. The real problem is when I have to turn and run back home- uphill. It's normally at this point that my calves start screaming for mercy, and I am desperate to indulge them; but first I have to go running back past all the men I overtake on the way down the hill. They are always delighted to see me again, and yell "Well done! Well done!", or occasionally "Why don't you run? Quick, quick!", at the times when the heat has become too much to handle, and my pace has slowed to a crawl. By the time I get back to the house, I'm absolutely drenched in sweat, and a charming boiled-lobster red. It's a good look.

The volunteers travelled down to the coast again last weekend; early on Saturday morning we went canoeing upriver. The sun was already hot, although it was only just past seven am; but it was very peaceful. Herons and kingfishers peppered the banks of the river, and mudskippers went running over the surface of the water. Our guides pointed out all the crabs strolling along the banks, and there was a moment of excitement for everyone when a monkey went swinging through the trees past our boat. The rest of the weekend was spent on the beach, playing football and getting swallowed by the waves, screeching with slightly panicked laughter. We spent most of the night on the beach as well; a blessing, because the dormitory beds were full of fleas that ate us alive. It was a great weekend.

And now I'm excited, because my GOM is coming to see me this week, and I can't wait to see him. I feel like a hysterical little child nearing Christmas. It's hard to imagine him in the setting of Achiase, trying to negotiate a taxi price with an overbearing driver or eating Fufu with his hands, but it's going to be fantastic to see him. My Roomie and I are eagerly anticipating the supplies coming from home; little shorts and vest tops, some new pillows, salt and vinegar crisps.... There are so many things I can think of.

Most of all, I want Spring. It is March now, and at home, the temperature will slowly be easing off. There will be rain, but it will be more forgiving now than it was in Februrary. Slowly the green will be coming back to the trees. It's my favourite time of year, and I'm missing it... Could someone bring me Spring in a suitcase? Send me armfuls of daffodils, great sprays of pink and white cherry blossom, wet with dew. A heaped basket of primroses to hang from my bedroom ceiling, and a hyacinth bulb for the windowsill.

Spring in a suitcase, to remind me of home.

Seasoned Travellers

At the weekends, My Roomie and I pack up bags with gay abandon and go tearing off round the country. Not having the advantages of of most of the other volunteers, who all live close to each other in a big city called Takoradi, we have to travel when we can.. The Scientist often comes with us, and we almost always join two other volunteers placed away from Takoradi; Bryan and The Savage.

First we went to Kakum National Park, a dense rainforest with a canopy walkway, made up of numerous rope bridges which are strung between the trees, forty feet off the ground. Although they are well reinforced, the bridges felt suspiciously wobbly, and Bryan in particular crept across them, quavering that she wasn't terribly happy with the way they swayed gently in the breeze. My Roomie announced to the entire forest with every new bridge that she stepped on that "Honest, I'm not joking here, this is much scarier than a bungee jump...."

Personally, I found it serene. The forest was full of huge, brightly-coloured butterflies, which flapped lazily past me with a kind of heyyy... this is the easy life.... attitude. Once you got into the rhythm of the swinging rope bridges, you could look around and say "Wow... this is really high." Aside from the cries of cicadas, and the incessant creaking of the many insects in the dense foliage, it was blissfully quiet. We had arrived at the perfect time, before the park really opened up to the public. As we left, three huge coachloads of tourists rolled up, and the day really began.

The Takoradi Volunteers joined us in Cape Coast later that day, and we spent the afternoon on the local beach... I've never seen pigs on the beach before. That was a new one. Some of us did a fantastic, slow motion Baywatch run into the surf- then we were dragged under the surface of the water and nearly drowned by the force of the waves and the cross-currents. The tides in Ghana are dangerously strong, and the waves huge. Several times during my brave attempts at swimming, I was tugged fiercely beneath the waves, and pulled along by the currents, so strong I couldn't surface for slightly longer than was comfortable. So... this is what drowning feels like.

Last weekend, My Roomie and I repacked our bags and headed in the direction of Accra; going to visit a famously popular beach among the Lattitude volunteers. We stopped off for a night with Bryan and The Savage first; their placement immediately gained huge kudos, because it contained a Demon Monkey, tied to a tree. As we stared warily at it, Bryan explained that the family had owned the monkey since birth, but that it had inexplicably gone mad a couple of years ago. It now routinely escapes and terrorises the host family, Bryan and the Savage. I could see the crazed look in it's eyes, and hear it's (oddly Mexican-sounding voice) in my head. Ah yes, hombres... You laugh now, but soon I escapes, and then I KEELS YOU ALL!!!

On second thoughts, could probably do without a Demon Monkey living in my house.

The next morning the four of us took off to the budget resort Big Milly's Backyard, where we were going to be staying. To our western-starved eyes, it was the most beautiful place we had ever seen. Slack jawed, we were shown around the outdoor bar, the restaurant, the rooms with an actual running shower!!! and a flushing toilet!!!

even without all these sheer luxuries, there was one thing that cemented my love of this resort until the end of time...

"I don't believe it..." I whimpered, staring at a small wooden kiosk, "They.... They have MARS BARS!"

I have really, really missed Mars Bars.

We spent a fabulous day on the beach, tanning- (well actually I just went my usual charming shade of Lobster Red, but a girl can dream) and ordering drinks from the bar. I had a Barracuda steak in the evening. As it was laid in front of me I could see the huge, ugly fish that ate Nemo's mother, and all his brothers and sisters, leaving him with only his anally-retentive father for company. Har har har. Justice.

In the evening, there was live reggae playing, and when that ended at around one, we were still wide awake enough to go along the beach to another hotel owned by a crazy Swedish man. I met a lot of Ghanaian Rastafarian's, who all spent a lot of time hugging me and explaining that I had to be nice to them because they were nice to me, ergo, if I wasn't nice I would be upsetting the delicate balance of the universe. Then they brought the drums out.
I sat on the sand with a guy called 'Friction', (real name, honest), and bashed a drum in a manner which at the time I thought showed great skill. The beach was flooded with moonlight, and a carpet of stars stretched to the sea. It was incredibly beautiful.

My Roomie and I staggered back to Big Milly's in the early hours of the morning, exhausted and giggly enough to find it absolutely hilarious when the tide came in and completely soaked our shoes. I slept for about two hours and felt incredible when I got up. It must be some quality in the air out here, back home I would have been unable to stand upright for the next three to four days.

Back at the Ranch, things are still going very well. There are frequent power cuts, and the rain is starting to roll in now, but I still love it. The schoolchildren are the most energetic and entertaining kids I have ever met in my life. Today I caused a small riot simply by smearing blue suncream onto their noses. Had never been so popular before in my whole life. My choir is powering along- this evening we sang 'Don't Stop Believing'; (Glee fever reached me a matter of weeks before I left the UK), and danced a lot. Come the end of March, the real travelling will begin- more or less a month on the road, trekking around the country. It's going to be amazing.