Leaving Accra and heading to the coast we found ourselves at The Green Turtle. A beach-side lodge hidden on the shores of the most southerly point of Ghana near the village of Akwidaa. Being 45 minutes up and down terrible roads from the nearest big town and with no mains electricity it was a pretty remote get-away.
This stretch of the Atlantic coast is not the best for swimming but the roar and crash of the gigantic waves was an excellent way to be lulled to sleep in our tents. By day we wandered no further than the three metres to the beach and as evening came we spent out time chilling with the managers, Alex and Lizzie , a brother and sister from London who were excellent company. The bar at the lodge is an old wooden fishing boat that after it’s last voyage had been dragged onto the sand and transformed into a fine place for an ethanol and tonic. We had only meant to stay a couple of days but before we knew it a week had flown by. Ahh sweet nothing!
The nearest village Akwidaa was not like anything we have seen so far on our trip. The first evening we visited it was hard not to be bamboozled as we were lead into a darkening maze. The cramped, overcrowded passages that wound between decrepit homes and the flickering oil lamp light that illuminated it made us feel like we had been transported into to a medieval painting. Adding to this was the stench of open sewers that were crossed by rickety plank bridges and the rotting waste on the path-side. Naked children and terrified sheep swarmed and scattered underfoot whilst adults gave us hostile looks from darkened doorways.
As much as the Green Turtle was a relaxing retreat and a successful example of Ghana’s growing tourist industry Akwida was a village that seemed to be lost in time and disconnected from the outside world. It was another case in Ghana of two ways of life existing side by side. In daylight the village took on a certain charm as the lagoon it surrounded was busy with the activity of fisherman and daily chores. There was still however a sinister undercurrent that exuded from this insular place, a tangible atmosphere as soon as we drew near. This was supported by the news that two people had recently been found bled dry, presumably for ritual practices. We found the strangeness of Akwida compelling, however although we came here practically everyday it never stopped making us feel uneasy and unlike other places a familiarity was never reached.
On our second night we wandered to the village in search of food as The Green Turtle was out of our price range. Here we found a grotesque dinner but got to eat it in the oil lamp lit mayhem at the heart of the village. As we ate we watched the busy thoroughfare unobserved before making our way back home across the deserted beach. We had got so accustomed to people coming up to chat to us that when a man slipped out of the night we greeted him with a jolly “hello, how are you?” despite his aggressive manner. His brandished machete however was an undeniable indication that this meeting was not about conversation.
Having both lived our entire lives in inner-city London without being mugged it appeared our time had come. He frisked both of us, taking our money and our old school Samsung mobile (sorry George) but kindly returned our torch to make our way back with. Although not what we had been expecting on a beach stroll we were both unharmed and it was actually more of an ordeal drinking the quadruple ethanol the manger kindly gave us when we reached The Green Turtle.
The most bizarre element of this robbery was that on the day we left we sat with the suspect for three hours waiting for a tro-tro (local bus). He was Fagan like character and we sat surrounded by his band of ragamuffin children, a group of twenty boys who were gambling and beating each other. He knew that we knew and we even asked if he had seen a purple phone, amidst his gang and not sure if the bus would show up there was little we could do. So we sat there in the sunshine whilst he perversely taught us ‘go’ and ‘come’ in the local language, the two commands he had used whilst robbing us. A pretty strange morning by all accounts!
Our tale of robbery should not put anyone off, however be cautious of the beach at night and if you are going to go for a stroll don’t take anything you would want to lose. Incidents like this do seem to be a running theme in Ghana as the increasingly popular tourist industry lives along side extreme poverty. Although not without mishap we had had a marvellous week chilling at The Green Turtle and would recommend it to anyone looking for some beach side lazing. Life’s a beach!
