Afternoons Off in Mpraeso, Ghana
‘You can learn so much just by observing.’ – Jessica Williams.
Every afternoon after finishing our morning in school, we are dropped off in Mpraeso to spend our free time as we wish. Mpraeso is a taxi ride from the volunteer house and most of us get off the bus when it pulls up, keen for some welcome down time after a tough morning of teaching.
The Woman at the Egg Stall
At the corner of the main street, a little old woman sits behind her stall and watches us disembark from the bus. She always smiles as we approach, regular as clockwork.
‘Two omelette sandwiches please,’ I ask, although she knows my order off my heart by now. I fish in my pocket for spare change to pay.
The omelettes are cheap and delicious – small pieces of tomato and onion were diced into the egg as it cooks and plenty of salt and pepper is added. The finished omelette is crammed between two slices of soft, flour dusted
white bread and the entire sandwich is packed into a carrier bag.
I delve in and pull it back out immediately, sinking my teeth into the hot, salty, eggy, messy sandwich and chewing happily, looking forward to feeling
satisfied once it is finished. One sandwich for now, one for later.
The Bar overlooking the Street
Just up the street, there is a bar located over a few shops, with an open balcony overlooking the road. We sit here, sipping our cokes or beers, and watch as the chaos of town life unfolds below.
One afternoon, H gets her hair braided by two friendly elderly women as we sit enjoying our drinks. Another time, just as our drinks are served, the heavens open. Rain thunders down on the corrugated tin roof which protects us. Within seconds, the dirt road has turned to mud and the gutters run high with reddish-brown water. Ironically, a number of pairs of wellies that are sitting outside a shop to be sold, presumably to keep people’s feet dry in such conditions, fill with water and so are rendered useless for their ultimate purpose.
On another day, we laugh as a truck drives past with a cow sitting placidly in the flatbed at the back. Seeing one, lying so calmly as the truck inches its way down the road, is a novelty. It is completely at ease with the whole situation.
Deciding What to Eat
People carry everything on their heads, from platters of fruit for sale to sachets of water to drink to firewood and everything in between. We wander along between them, ignoring people who call us over. We are hungry and browse the different shops and stalls, deciding what we want to eat.
Aside from the omelette stall, there are bright bright red sausages and chicken with rice on offer for the meat eaters. We question whether the chicken is actually that.
‘It looks more like pork than chicken,’ H comments, picking her meat apart between her fingers, ‘Don’t you think?’
We all lean in to inspect it and offer opinions.
‘It doesn’t really have any sort of chicken shape.’
‘The colour is a bit weird…’
‘Yeah, kind of pale… Maybe you should just eat the rice instead?’
‘Maybe it’s goat…’
In a tiny grocery shop, we pick among the dusty tins and boxes. We exclaim over brands we would find at home, Kellogg’s Cornflakes making us grin. It’s a novelty, branded cereal so far from home, in this small Ghanaian town. There are other things too – Heinz beans, Dairy Lea cheese triangles and super cheap, branded cigarettes.
We purchase fruit and vegetables from the market nearby.
Exploring the Market
I wrinkle my nose as we enter a shady passage between the stalls. The rank stench of dried fish fills my nostrils and almost makes me gag. Flies buzz busily around hunks of raw meat. The whole place smells like decay. The sweet, sickly scent of rotting flesh.
There are some tomatoes at another stall that I purchase. However, this is my one and only trip to the market. The putrid smell is enough to discourage me from going again. It’s noisy, crowded and the air is close around me.
I escape as quickly as possible, weaving between stalls and finally gulping fresh air as I step out onto the road.
A Taxi Ride Home
There is an endless line of taxis waiting to take us back to the volunteer house. We barter with drivers for the best price. Each new driver tries their luck with sky-high fares but we don’t back down until we get a fair deal. Once the fee is agreed, we all pile in, five or six of us as well as the driver in a small Cinquecento.
There are no seat belts, so we cling on as the car flies up the road, out of town. We are jammed in, packed up against bags of shopping. We talk as the car careers homewards, laughing when we lurch over a pot hole. The morning’s work has left us satisfied and the down time in town has brightened us. It’s time to spend an evening relaxing.
Tomorrow, we will do it all again.
NB: This post was edited and the images were added 29th January 2019. You can read a little more about my adventures in Ghana here.
Original Volunteers still operate in various countries across Africa, South America and Asia. However, since returning from this trip, my opinion on volunteering has changed somewhat. I doubt I would ever volunteer again without deep consideration into the reasons behind my choice to do so. I wrote a post detailing my viewpoint on volunteering, which you can read here.
