One of the only trips that I have been unwilling to miss taking in Ghana was a trip to Mole National Park. According to the Bradt guide book – also known as the Oboruni bible – this is the best place in Ghana to see Elephants in the wild, while on safari.
The guidebook also noted that the trip to Mole was one that required patience and a great deal of endurance. This is because the buses that take you on your 14 hour journey to the park are prone to break down or show up late… if they show up at all. In fact, the transportation is so unreliable that the book recommends giving yourself 2 days for the trip to enjoy one day of safari at the park and then two days to return.
So, naturally, when I heard that one of the International Programs on campus was organizing a trip, using their private, air conditioned bus, I immediately set upon organizing a group of friends to go to the park. I then made reservations at the Mole motel. Grace also made a reservation at a hotel in Tamale, since we would be making a stop there to sleep before continuing to the park.
On Thursday October 29 we walked to the AYA center (the group organizing the trip) at 5:30 am. After claiming our seats and waiting a short while we took off on what would be a 14 hour journey. The drive was a dream compared to the nightmare I had been anticipating the entire semester. I read a majority of Obama’s Dreams from My Father, listened to Patty Griffin and stared out the window and a rapidly changing African landscape.
Around 7 o’clock in the evening we arrived in a city called Tamale. It was dark and raining when we pulled up to the hotel and as the 19 students climbed off the bus we were met by the Picorna Hotel’s staff with golf umbrellas. When we got inside we set to checking in. As I ran around the hotel trying to decide whether our group of 6 wanted three singles or two doubles I struck up a conversation with the young Ghanaian guy assisting me. His name was Mo and he exuberantly recommended himself as my tour guide for the following morning. Eager to see a city in the north I asked him what he would want to show me? He replied with a long list:
“Oh, I know everywhere. I can show you the leather factory where they have crocodile and python skin, and the cultural center where you can buy the leather products, take you to see how they make shea butter, I can also introduce you to the chief, I know his village well, and there you can get your African names!”
Alright Mo, I’m sold. I asked him how many people he would be willing to take and he said as many as I wanted, but we would need at least 3 hours to do everything. After I spread the word around our group it was obvious everyone wanted to go. Therefore, plans were made to meet in the lobby at 9 am for a tour of Tamale before hitting the dusty road to our final destination.
Mo delivered. Our first stop on our journey was the village of the local chief. I wish I could relay you his name but I am not entirely sure we were ever told what it was. When we arrived we were greeted by a sea of children (as usual) and led to the chief’s hut with Mo as our representative. Before we arrived Mo instructed us on kneeling, questions to ask and basic information about the chief such as: he has 28 wives and 32 children… he told us that particular fact at least 5 times.
When we entered the dimly lit hut there was an ancient man sitting back in an elaborate lounge-like chair up on a raised platform. Below him, sitting on the ground, was a younger and dignified looking man. We would come to find out that this young man was the chief’s spokesperson. I think the definition of spokesperson differs in Ghana… usually with a spokesperson, the authority figure whispers something to their lesser, telling them what to say to their audience… I’m not sure the chief said a word the entire time we were there… in fact I think there is a good chance that about half way through our visit he fell asleep…
As we all sat in the dim hut, with the children gathered at the door, and Mo standing in front of the stage speaking to the spokesman in Dagbay (forgive the spelling, but that is what the language they speak in the north sounds like…), I heard something behind me. When I turned around I had to do everything in my power to withhold the laughter threatening to escape from my mouth. Behind me as a full-size horse – literally 3 feet behind me. I think I was so fascinated by the chief and his spokesman that I must have walked right past the horse without noticing.
Upon further investigation I found that the horse was essentially tied and gagged. It’s feet were tied in an odd rectangular bind, but it seemed fairly content sitting and eating it’s mass of hay provided. And honestly it went unnoticed for most of our visit, until it let out a very long, very loud stream of pee in the middle of the naming ceremony, and even the chief had a good laugh at that.
The naming ceremony was the best part of the trip to Tamale in my opinion. During this time each and every member of our group was called to the stage, in what I realized was a very intentional order, and given different names with meaning. The chief did seem to weigh in on these decisions. They started form the left and began working their way to the right before suddenly jumping to me on the other side of the room. The spokesperson said something to Mo in Dagbay and Mo laughed, double checked something, and then smiling a menacing grin told me that I was next. I was a bit startled and hurried my way to the platform. I knelt down next to the chief and as he and the spokesperson smiled at me they said something rapidly to Mo through their smiles that made Mo burst out in laughter. He repeated the name “Napa” a few times in question form and the spokesperson laughed and nodded his head.
“Alexis your name is Napa. It means Chief’s wife.”
At this our whole group burst out into laughter and a series of “ohs!” and “ahs!” I turned a lovely shade of red to match my tshirt that day, gave the chief a nod, said thank you and returned to my seat.
After the naming ceremony we went to the back of the village where the women make shea butter. The process was fascinating. At one point the shea butter looks incredibly like chocolate frosting, and smells like it too! I wanted to buy some to bring home but I knew I had absolutely no room in my JanSport for it, so I had to pass. Here in Ghana shea butter is used for everything from open wounds to itchy dry spots, its healing powers are well known and respected.The group then headed to the leather factory. An important piece of information, “factory” appears to be a very loose term in Ghana.
The “factory” consisted of various stations outside that looked an awful lot like trash heaps, all covered in ash. As we moved from station to station with our wirey old guide (one of the leather makers), we saw the process of soaking the animal hides in pools of water and ash, stripping the “fetish” (the hair) with a machete, soaking it again to make it more elastic, drying it, and dying it. I won’t elaborate too much on the appearance or the smell of the place for the sake of the weak-stomached. You can imagine what a place that works exclusively with the fresh hides of dead animals smells like and what the piles of hair and skin look like.
From there we moved on to the cultural center where we had the opportunity to buy hand made leather goods. It was there that I was able to buy a hand-made leather purse for 10 Ghana Cedi… less than 8 dollars. We loaded up from the cultural center and hit the road to Mole.
Around 7 o’clock that night we arrived at the Mole Motel, once again exhausted and ready for bed. I finished Dreams from My Father and hit the hay early. The next morning Grace woke up for a run through the park at 5:30 and Sarah and I followed suit around 6:15, in order to be ready for the 7 am walking safari we had signed up for. When we signed up the night before the guide told us to be aware that it was very unlikely we would see elephants on our visit, because although it was the dry season, which is the prime time to visit and find elephants, it had rained substantial amounts the days before we came, and because of this the elephants could be anywhere in the 4,000 square meters of the park.
As we rolled out of bed, Grace came running in the room with a smile plastered on her face
“ELEPHANT! Oh my GOD ELEPHANT! They said they saw an elephant by the pool! Come on!”
So, in our pajamas Sarah and I grabbed our cameras and ran out the door. There was a mass migration of pajama-clad tourists stomping across the grass outside our door. Everyone had heard the news it seemed, and EVERYONE was going to try to get a peak. When we rounded the corner of the pool house we saw a group of people gathered with their cameras out, whispering to each other. And sure enough, there on the hill less than 100 meters away was an Elephant. This one looked young and a bit lost, eating from a tree on the hill side, completely unaware of his star status. We were in shock – who knew we’d see one of these somewhat elusive creatures before we even went on safari!?!
After the elephant meandered down the hill we all ran back to our room to change into Safari clothes. Once our socks and shoes were on, sunscreen lathered on, and bandanas adorned, we jogged to the meeting site. There, we were split into groups of 6 or so and assigned a guide. Our guide was a man nearing 60 decked out in hunter green from head to toe, big ol’ galoshes on his feet and a shot gun slung over his shoulder. Alright, let’s go.
We pointed him in the direction of the elephant we saw that morning and headed off into the sun in search of elephants and the other 7 species the park boasts their tourists may get to see. The guide gave us the required speech about safaris being "all about luck", and reminding us we could walk away seeing no animals just as easily as we could walk away having seen all 8.
Approximately 10 minutes into our trek we came across a small herd of antelope.
“You will have very good luck on this safari. They are a good omen.”
Awesome. Next, we came across 4 warthogs grazing about 3 feet from us. Then we saw Colobus monkeys… then baboons… all while we followed the elephant tracks. Next came the bushbucks, and these giant birds that looked like something out of the Never Ending Story… they were enormous.
Finally, we came into a clearing and our guide looked around wildly, mumbling to himself. "OH! AH!" He exclaimed in typical Ghanaian fashion, “They should be here! Where are the elephants.” We all giggled to ourselves as he got out a cell phone (odd site on a safari) to call one of the other guides, to see if they had found the elephants. As we traipsed on we came across bushbuck and the third variety of antelope.
Then the phone rang. He answered. And passed the message on to us. “We found them. There are three. They are very far away. We must walk quickly.”
And so we did. We walked at a near jog and backtracked the past two hours to find the elephants. As we were walking through a densely wooded area our guide stuck out his hand and put his finger to his mouth. “See?”
NO! I don’t see… what…?
Then – I saw them. Elephants. Wild elephants less than 50 meters away. They were hard to see through all the trees and I set to snapping any photo I could, but to no avail. It was like playing I Spy when I looked at the photos on my display screen. This can’t be the best I can get! I want to be able to show people how incredible they are, and I can hardly see them!
Our guide led us back through the woods, and assured us the elephants would move and we would be able to get a better look. He was right. As we stood waiting 100 meters away, we saw them emerge from behind the foliage. There they were. These magnificent creatures as big as houses it seems, walking towards us in a forest… in Africa. There was a male with the giant ivory tusks that poachers have sought out for so long. With the male were two females. All three of them stared at us… seeming to know everything about this place and its people. I just sat… in awe for a while, too overwhelmed by their proximity to take any photographs. Slowly but surely we got out our cameras and began to photograph them.
After what felt like an hour of watching their every move, we headed back to the motel. When we got back to the motel we had our breakfast and sat smiling and giddy about the sights and sounds of the morning. We saw elephants.
After breakfast we loaded up the bus to go to the nearby town of Larabanga to see one of the oldest mosques in Ghana. A guide told us the history of the mosque and then we went to see the mystic stone. Local legend says that the stone was at one point in the way of a road that colonizers were building for the slave trade. The colonizers had it moved out of the way, but when they came back the next morning, it was back in its original location. The following night they had a few men move the stone and sleep on it, making sure it wouldn’t be moved. When the colonizers returned the men had disappeared and the stone was back in its rightful place. Since then, the stone has been a spiritual center, a place where people of all faith’s come to offer up prayers and receive its blessings.
After Larabanga we were wiped out so we opted for a midafternoon nap. After two hours of trying to sleep mostly naked in the humidity, sweating to death and moaning out of despair we heard a knock on our window. When we got up to see what was going on we found one of our friends at the window whispering that there were approximately 42 baboons outside our door... of course we frantically put clothes on and grabbed our cameras. Our friend wasn't exaggerating.
More baboons than I cared to count were milling about outside of our room at the Mole Motel. I have watched enough animal planet to know that baboons ain't friendly, but apparently my fellow tourists at the Motel don't watch the same programs I do... because they were getting close... wayyyyyy too close.
And I was the one to pay for their miscalculations. They successfully pissed off one of the big males... and before me and my roommates really understood what was happening he was in a fist-to-ground-jog towards us. My friend Sarah ran in the door screaming and instinctually slammed it shut in our faces. Grace was the next closest to the door so in a flight-or-flight situation she did what she had to do - she fought me in order to fly to safety.
I was body checked against the entry way and found myself on the top step leading to our door and the pissed off baboon on the step below me.
At this point I was convinced I was about to have the flesh stripped from my shins by a baboon. And just as I began to picture my shin bones exposed Grace opened the door and I jumped inside.
The next morning we left for home at 7 am and arrived at 9 pm.
Baboon attack survived. Safari success.
