Sylvia's Journal

I am sitting at a breakfast table in an open air restaurant that looks out over the ocean. I have a front row seat and watch hotel staff wash the Harmattan dust off the warped ping-pong table. Behind him, not allowed on the hotel premises but as close as is possible are young men in their Rasta outfits trying to sell trinkets to holiday makers. In back of them, just along the water’s edge, a few women walk in a line in and out of view with enormous piles of firewood and bowls on their heads. They walk fast, bare feet. And far off on the horizon I see the fishing pirogues, some with sails others with paddles or motors.

Yesterday morning we left Accra early. We arrived in Cape Coast and went straight to the Ghana Health Services regional office to make a courtesy visit and see the workplace of one of our teams next week. After that it was time for a little holiday as the Brits call it. One of the regional Office staff had booked us in a delightful beach resort, the Coconut Beach Hotel for Friday and Saturday night. Sunday we move to the venue for the workshop which is right behind the regional health office in the town of Cape Coast.

To get to our temporary quarters we drove through the old slave port El Mina, which reminded me of Zanzibar and other slave ports I have seen along the coast of Africa. The place was teeming with people. They are dwarfed by the two imposing buildings that we will visit today. One is probably the old governor’s castle, the Dutch were here in the 17^th century, the other I am not sure about. We are going to visit the town today.

The resort is a few kilometers outside El Mina, at the end of a bumpy road that leads through a small fishing village. Small fish are drying on racks everywhere.

We bought access to the hotel’s hotspot access network. I had not expected it and later wished it hasn’t been there. Connecting to it became an exercise in patience and I gave up quickly and ended up sitting by the ocean and reading for hours. Against doctor’s orders I ordered a Pina Colada. It is the kind of drink you are supposed to have in places like this. It was heavenly. Cabul was more task-oriented than I and fiddled with his budget spreadsheets until the numbers came out right. Today he too is going to relax and we will be tourists.