Hello fellow readers,

Would you like to be part of an exciting project in Ghana? Many schools and communities in Ghana lack reading materials for the young people and students. Books are shared among many people and often long travel is n...eeded to access a library. Our service offers a mobile library to communities in the area, we transport the books and sit with the children and read with them, and they have the opportunity to read to the group also.

The world of Harry Potter enticed me to read when I was in primary school, and I would love to share my enjoyment of reading with young people here. Unfortunately due to lack of resources, we currently have a limited number of books, and can only reach a small number of children in the area.

We hope, with your help to be able to reach more young people, share more books with them, get them excited about reading and writing and widen their knowledge about the world.

If you have any books laying around, that you haven't read for a while, or would like to share with us, please let me know. We can use anything, school text books, novels, fiction, non fiction, story books, colouring books, even books with blank pages, so they can write too.

This service isn't just for young people, we provide books to adults as well. If you are unable to share your books with us, perhaps you know someone who can?

SHARE THIS LINK and help us improve literacy in Ghana.

http://www.streetlibraryghana.org/

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A week in the life of

Sunday

I woke up with a start after another night of drinking and little sleep. It was light outside, the storm had hit, which is probably what woke me. Lying in the bed I could hear the wind whirling through the palm trees and rain pelting down on the roof and creating puddles all around the huts and tents where we were staying. I looked at my phone and it was 8 in the morning. It didn’t take me long to decide that getting up, even on so little sleep was better than staying in the bed restless. Sarah was still asleep, and not ready to get up. So I had a shower, there is no hot water, anywhere I have been to so far, but even so early in the morning, during a tropical storm, the cool water was very refreshing. I dressed and borrowed her camera to take for a walk. It was still raining when I left our hut, and I was walking through mud, with no shoes on.

I decided I wasn’t hung over, I was fine, and walking through the rain was cleansing way to start the day. There were a few (very attractive, shirtless) African men running along the beach passed me, so I was more than happy to enjoy the peaceful work. When I returned to the hut, people were starting to pack away their tents and move along to their next destination.

Sarah and I went over to the boys’ hut, to see if they were awake and wanted breakfast. We ate in the outdoor restaurant, which is right on the beach. The guys decided to head back to Accra after we check out, to go to Movenpick to use the free and fast wifi. Sarah and I wanted to lay on the beach for a bit longer and head back later in the afternoon.

We had run up a bit of a hefty tab at the bar the night before; tequila, beer, gin, vodka, rum. Neither of us had brought enough money for the weekend, so we jumped in a share taxi and headed about 5km or 30mins up the dirt road to the main road to find an ATM. The room, dinner, breakfast and our beverages cost 70 cedis each. (About $35 Australian Dollars). We checked out, didn’t even make it back to the hut when we decided to stay an extra night, and head back to Pokuase on Monday morning.

The lady in the office was more than happy to accommodate us for an extra night, especially seeing as though about 90% of the guests had checked out. We changed rooms and wondered down to the beach. Saturday we had met a few people, and saw some sitting by the water. The sand was warm and damp, and soft to lay down on. Sarah went for a swim, and I stayed on the beach and chatted to one of the guys. Unfortunately there is a history of bag snatches at the beach, and neither of us wanted our iPods or money stolen. The weather had cleared up quite a bit, and for once it was pleasant to be seated in the sunshine.

I saw Jody walking up the sand, while we chatted and went over to talk to her. She is volunteer with another agency working in Pokuase. She lives with a girl from Melbourne, who I met later in the day. I wasn’t expecting to hear an Australian accent, or be quite so struck by it, it was nice. It must be about 4 months, since I have had a conversation with an Australian face to face, other than mum and James.

Jody and her friend want to make the same trip that James and I were going to do, but backwards, up through west Africa. It will be interesting to see how they do it, where they go and the experiences they have. I can’t wait to hear about it when they return to Accra.

A few of the guys left, and Jody went for a swim a little while later. I stayed on the sand and played with some children while Sarah went on a horse ride along the beach. The children made sand castles and buried my feet. Watching them play with a broken plastic cup they had found from the party the night before made me realise how big something like a bucket and spade I took to the beach as a child would be for these kids. They filled the cup up with sand, and a little water to make the sand hard, then tipped it over to make a turret on their castle. It’s exactly the same as using a bucket that was designed for sandcastles.

The kids also had a line of fishing wire that was wrapped around an old piece of rusting metal; the fishing wire was used for the kite they made out of dried grass shoots. The idea of them cutting themselves left my mind pretty quickly, those young kids would hold such a strong importance and appreciation of that toy because they made it themselves.

I don’t see children crying here, or throwing tantrums, they don’t beg their parents for sweets or toys. They are very friendly and happy children. Even when they hurt themselves, they pick themselves up and continue on. It’s such a big difference to what I’m used to with kids in Australia.

Sarah came back from her horse ride, and we went to get some lunch, well it was about 3pm by this point. The guys working at the local restaurant had offered to make us breakfast the night before, but we ate with our friends. So we went around for lunch. They made noodles and egg and chicken. It was amazing. My spicy-o-meter is building up a fairly strong tolerance, it wasn’t too hot. Sitting in the little shop on a small stool, or jerry can we met more people.

One guy I saw walk past was wearing great pants. Like patchwork or all the beautiful material here. I got up to go to the bathroom at the hut, and on my way out he introduced himself. I told him I like his pants and he went to take them off, I’m not sure if he intended to give them to me, but I insisted he keep them.

I came back from the bathroom and more people had arrived, the restaurant is about 2m by 3m, just a kitchen and an extra table. I didn’t see a fridge, but there was an esky. All the food used he went to the market to purchase, and some he brought down from Kumasi where he is from. Sitting in the little room I met people from Canada, America, Nigeria, Ghana… and potentially other places that weren’t mentioned.

It was great because one guy started talking about what he was doing in Ghana, and I picked up a pretty decent contact that I can work with for my job here. I hate to use the word networking, because we weren’t, we were just sitting by the beach having some lunch and a chat, and the conversation changed, and we made some friends.

By this stage the lack of sleep over the past week had caught up. We had been out every night since the reggae beach party on Wednesday. The hangover was catching up too. I just wanted some fresh air and a walk. I went to the bathroom (again- it’s so humid that I’ve been drinking about 2 litres of water everyday) and got changed. As I was walking back from the hut, I heard “hey Caro” and saw one the guys walking past. It was such a nice place to stay, especially because we stayed the extra night, the staff remembered us and were so friendly and helpful. If you ever make it to Kokrobite beach, just outside Accra, definitely stay and Big Milly’s.

The lunch we had at Joe’s restaurant was enough for dinner too, instead we just headed to the bar, and met more people. The guy I met earlier was there, he showed me his webpage, Cedarartworld.com which is a social networking site that hosts African artists who wish to sell their artwork, and introduces them to international buyers. The site promotes human rights and helps raise awareness about local and global issues such as AIDS through art. The artists have the opportunity to film themselves working, the process and their environment and influences. These fims are showcased on the social networking site. If you would like more information, let me know.

At the bar, I met one of the artists who advertises on the site. He is a drummer and makes drums at the Art Centre and in Osu. He showed me his site, and we chatted about what I was doing in Ghana. He offered to teach me how to drum. Joe, from the restaurant, came over to the bar and suggested we make a bonfire. So we headed down to the beach and he grabbed his guitar and Emannual fetched his drum. Emmanual taught me 3 types of hand movements to create beat and rhythm, it’s probably the first time I have ever made a tune that flows. It was really fun, and quite satisfying, after a few drinks, I’m not sure how good I was, but it’s nice to think that maybe a sober attempt might be even more successful.

He told me about how the drum is made, and what the symbols he chose on the side mean. It’s a very attractive instrument, and makes a beautiful sound. He told me if I come round to the Arts Centre he would show me how to make one. I am really looking forward to it. There are some really cool Ashanti symbols that I would love to use on the side of the drum. Sunsum means soul, I would like to use that symbol I think, and there is one of a bird that mean remember your roots, where you are from. I’m still looking for 2 symbols that will work well together.

Unfortunately he had to leave to meet some friends, and the other guys from the social networking site came to the beach to join us. It was a really pleasant cool evening, because of the rain in the morning. A guy from California came by, he owns a property out past Busua, where I went last weekend. His property is about 7 hours by trotro out of Accra. It’s 40 acres along the beach, and is full of jungle with palm trees and coconut trees. They showed me a photo of it, it’s beautiful.

Photos

Culture, I'm still learning, I shall keep you updated.

Source: Sarah Baughman - the street near our house

Culture shock is not an experience that can be taught. Sitting here, on this side of my computer, with you, sitting there on the other side, you are too far away to understand anything about this culture from what I have to say. That is the harsh reality of it. You won’t know or understand what I see, and how I feel until you are in the same situation. Trying to explain what this is like, would be at the moment, the same as me trying to explain what the colour purple is like. It is a little bit like red, and a little bit like blue, I think it clashes with yellow, green and orange, but in some lights they look nice together.

You have heard mixed reviews about the colour purple right? You know it exists, you have seen a glimpse of it here and there, and heard a brief story about it. But no matter how much you hear, or are lead to believe, no matter what picture you have of it in your mind, nothing compares to seeing it in real life. No holds barred.

What is a culture shock? In many respects this isn’t “third world” (I don’t think that term is used any more anyway). This feels more like a completely different planet. I flew from winter in Europe, in an air-conditioned plane with no concept of what it would be like here, on the ground. We got off the plane on the runway at about 10pm and the heat hit me like opening the oven door. It was suffocating. 

I hadn’t prepared myself mentally for any of it. When I applied to come to Ghana, the original plan was to arrive at the beginning of March, and stay until August. James and I had decided to travel from Madrid to Accra through West Africa, but that didn’t work out. So I found myself in Ghana 5 weeks early, after spending 50hours in and out of airports, a week on overnight buses, trains and in totally foreign environments.  Even while I was in the plane, on the final leg of my journey to Ghana I barely thought about what this all meant.

I was picked up from the airport by the head of the organisation, who took me back to the compound (where we all live). The heat was overwhelming, and I was exhausted. I met the rest of the volunteers the following morning. Currently there are 9 of us, half from America and the rest from the UK, Argentina and Switzerland.

The smell is hypnotic. The best way to descried it is smoked meat and dust. There is a haze over most of Accra from all the burning. For the most part, I think rubbish is burnt, which creates the haze. It is so thick that at night time it’s hard to see the stars. I imagined that being in Ghana, being in Africa really, so far away from all the lights of the big cities, that the stars would be easier to see. I have never seen the sky at night, like it was in Bröllin. I hope that when we venture further north, the sky will become clearer. I must say however, I can see the moon every night, and Orion’s Belt. That’s all that really matters to me anyway. 

Sometimes the smell isn’t of burning rubbish. The sewerage here is pretty much open. So in some areas the smell is repulsive. Littering is a serious problem. There are barely any bins in public areas, and the ground is covered with plastic bags, empty water sachets, and I don’t know what else. It’s really sad, but there doesn’t seem to be much forethought about taking care of the environment.

Driving from the airport to the compound was insane. The roads (as I have said) are not all paved and are full of potholes. We drove along a street with the arrow pointing towards us, not away from us, there were cars everywhere, no street lamps, people selling things on the sides of the road, loud music playing at various locations. Part of me would like to say that it was terrifying, but it was addictive.

As I said, on the Saturday I had my first tro tro experience, and visited a hospital. Looking back on it now, I was very shocked by everything I saw; confronted by it all, and in some cases in sheer disbelief. From the hospital, we took 4 more tro tros to the Cape Coast, and my eyes were opened even wider.

I wrote this over a week ago. It is much less overwhelming now. More to come

CoCoNuTs

Walking through the markets can be overwhelming. There is no escape from the heat, no shade and rarely a cool breeze. The streets are either concrete, so the heat just hangs in the air, or they are dirt, so you sweat and the dirt sticks to you. People are shouting out the price of their goods, they grab your arms and tell us they want to marry us. “Obruni, you’re beautiful.”

On the one hand, you can buy anything you have ever needed on the street; shoes, clothes, material, bags, food, water, mobiles, computers, phone and internet recharge cards, spoilt for choice, but if you want something specific, like a certain type of deodorant, or shampoo, you’re out of luck. The markets stretch for miles it seems, and to me they still all look the same. There is no sign saying “Welcome to Kaneshi market.” Or not that I have seen. It’s as if you are on a street with no market, then suddenly BOOOM there is a huge market, with people everywhere; yelling, laughing, cars honking. The way the vendors get your attention is by making a smooching sound. At first it feels like a cat call, but it seems to be the ‘agreed upon’ form of attention raising.

As I said, it can be incredibly overwhelming. The perfect antidote, for this kind of retail therapy is a fresh coconut. It seems that stalls move around, and when you found a coconut stall at this corner last week, this week it is somewhere else.

A pile as high as my knee, or sometimes higher and about one to two meters long on the pavement houses the coconuts. They are not what you find in the supermarket in Australia, or anywhere I have seen really. These are baby or not mature coconuts. They are green, and about twice the size of a regular coconut. They are prepared while you wait. Not, peeled, not chopped, I guess they are shaved? Using a really sharp machete (long knife). The top is sliced off, and then handed over. The coconut contains about 500mLs of juice, which pretty much tastes like water. Pure water full of vitamins and it fills you up. Once you finish drinking it, they cut the whole coconut in half, and slice off part of the skin. The idea is you use the piece of hard skin to scoop out the flesh. Satisfying after a long day negotiating the markets.

As the day goes on, the pile of whole coconuts depletes, and the pile of discarded coconuts grows!

Adventure

Greater Accra isn’t very big. I haven’t actually seen a map of the area, only smaller individual town maps, so I can’t be certain, but I would assume that Greater Accra is less than 20km squared. We live about 10km out of the city centre, however a journey into Circle takes anywhere from 45 minutes to over an hour.

Last night Sarah and I went on an adventure. We were planning to meet up with some friends in Legon. At first I thought Legon was a spot (bar). It’s actually a suburb which houses one of the universities.

We left Pokuase (where we live) at around 7:30 with a rough idea of how to get there, we had two options, and took the one we thought would be quickest and most direct. Trotros run less frequently at night time, but there is no specific time that they stop running and each route is different. Our first destination was Achimota New, which neither of us had been to before. On the first trotro the mate (conductor-esk) helped us by flagging down another trotro, while we were driving, and they were driving. This second trotro was to take us to Achimota New.

Achimota New is fancy. It’s paved, there are lanes marked out to specify or direct one where to pack, there is order, which is uncommon here. Once arriving, and disembarking from the trotro, we found out that the trotros to our next destination Legon, had stopped for the night. At this point we could take a taxi, or another trotro to a nearby location. The taxi driver quoted us 8 cedis (dollars), this is ridiculous, and as usual we were expected to haggle, but considering the trotro would have cost 50 peswas (cents), we weren’t going to pay 8 cedis. So we went on the hunt for another trotro to take us to Thirty-Seven, at the time we understood it as Tech7.

So 3 trotros down, and about an hour in. It wasn’t too hot last night, which was helpful. We arrived in Thirty-Seven without too much trouble, a few nice people had helped us here and there along the way. It was pitch black when we were looking for our connection in Thirty-Seven. One young man was very nice to help us, but it wasn’t long before he was keen on some digits (our numbers). We found the 4^th trotro to take us to Okponglo on the route to Medina. The trotro was only half full when we boarded (climbed in), and as with trotro rules, it doesn’t leave until it is full. The kind man, requesting our digits stood by the window, and was quite persistent. I maintained that I don’t know you, but thank you anyway. I even tried- I don’t think my husband would be too happy about that. After about 5 minutes of continuous failed attempts to get him to bugger off I asked the man next to me how to say no in Twi. That got a few laughs, my pronunciation was probably shot. Then I tried the “I’m sorry, no.” It’s a very handy sentence to have now. Me pacho debi – the spelling is probably off.

Coincidently the man who taught me a few new words is a Twi teacher. I asked him if he’d like to teach a few obrunis how to speak Twi, he wasn’t very keen unfortunately, but he told us where to get lessons, so we may check it out. We were pretty zoned out by this point, Sarah even commented on the attractiveness of a young man in the seat in front of us after he got off. It wasn’t until the next stop, an extra 10 minutes or so down the road, that we realised we had missed out stop and that cute young man had actually got off at our stop. We jumped in a taxi for an extra 5 cedis. We could have just taken the 8 cedi taxi from over an hour before.

The entire journey took over 2 hours, 4 trotros and a taxi, it cost us about 3 cedis 50 peswas each and was rather enjoyable. The trip home took about half an hour and cost us 15 cedis together.

Such is life hey J

Photos

At the Cape Coast

Akwaaba to Ghana- a tiny winy bit more information

Studying youth work reinforced in me the need for reflection. I know on the whole I think way too much, but reflection is incredibly important. We need to learn from our mistakes and utilise our strengths to make the most of life. Reflection enables this, and having a diary helps sort out your thoughts. I’m pretty happy that I’ve kept a diary from almost day one of my trip, since I left Australia and I am now onto the second. Someone told me once that if you write it down it help reassess your thoughts, as the left side and right side of your brain deal with emotions differently, by writing it down you are able to combine both sides of thinking and work out what’s going on.  Having said all this, it has been such a busy week, it’s been almost impossible to write any of it down. I have about 4 or 5 half written entries, I will start writing and have to leave or fall asleep or get distracted.

So here is the best summary of my first week in Ghana. If I organise it into sections it might be easier to follow.

The people

Wow, what can I say? That’s been my initial response for quite a bit of the Ghana writings, but it’s the best response. Ghanaians are a beautiful people. Incredibly friendly and helpful, the kids smile, and wave and shout obruni. That’s what we are, obrunies, [I don’t know the correct spelling]. Obruni means white person or foreigner. I haven’t heard anyone say it in jest yet, they are just stating the obvious. Next time someone says it to me I will say obibini which is the opposite. Some of the volunteers say that, and the kids laugh. Sometimes people ask for money, and it is really hard to say no, but I do when I can.

The life expectancy is 59 years here, so there are no older people. It’s amazing, I have never been anywhere with such a short life expectancy. I will confirm the exact details, but I think the majority of people are under 25. Grandparents are around 45. After speaking with some of the people working here, it seems that when someone dies, it’s not always known or asked why they died, it is just accepted or understood as a part of life.

Being an obruni woman attracts much attention. There aren’t many obrunis here, so I think we might represent something maybe it is alluring, or mysterious, or we offer the chance to visit another country. I am not really sure. So far I have had 2 men ask me to take them back to Australia with them when I go back, one was a man in a tro tro, his name was Godwin and he told me if it is God’s will then we will meet again. Haha, then he told me I am an angel. The other time it happened was in the taxi, pretty similar experience. On another occasion, in another tro tro the conductor asked to marry me. We are quite often asked for our numbers, and then for our names, in that order. Having only been here a week, I still say that I don’t have a phone yet, although I do, [I haven’t had a phone in 6 months, and it has been amazing, I hate having one again]. While we were waiting for the tro tro last night, I was asked for my number, but instead I insisted he write his on a piece of paper. When I said it, I figured if he would, then that showed determination. Haha, the men here are incredibly forward, nothing like in Australia or some European countries, where they are not very forward at all. I enjoy the flattery, but at times the persistence is a little unnerving.

On the whole I really like the people that I have met, it is a very relaxed environment. GMT – Greenwich Mean Time, which is what we are on here, actually stands for Ghana Maybe Time. The pace is quite slow, what with the electricity going off for hours on end, water being off for a few days in a row; it’s hard to have a quick pace.  I really enjoy the pace, it is slow, but it is by no means stressful. Water being off isn’t fun though. Bucket showers sound far more glamorous than they really are, especially with a low of 25 and a high of 32 every day and 70% humidity. But everyone is in the same boat, and at least we have access to water.

Food

Where we are there is not much variety. As part of the volunteer program we are given dinner, which is pretty handy as up the street there isn’t much variety of ingredients. It is our responsibility to buy breakfast and lunch for ourselves. There is a fruit stand that sells bananas, plantains [like bananas but not sweet, better cooked] pineapples, mangos and sometimes papaya. The fruit is really good, I think it is usually pretty fresh, although I think the pineapple yesterday made me a bit sick. We can also buy eggs, bread, tea, and crackers (and a few other things) up the street pretty cheaply. 

Dinner is usually a carbohydrate; pasta, rice [brown or white], fried plantains or yams with a sauce. The sauce is pretty much guaranteed to be of the red variety, I think it is palm oil and chill, but I’m not sure how they make it. Its spicy, every night, the only variation is in how spicy it is. 1 is not spicy and 10 being blow your face off, it sits around the 7 mark for me generally. Although I know I will get used to it.

Transportation

The main form of transport is tro tros, I think there are more tro tros per capita, than cars. By this I mean there are more seats available in all the tro tros than there are in the cars, that doesn’t make sense, but from what I’ve seen, tro tros seem to be a more commonly used form of transport than cars. They are easy, efficient and cheap. Considering almost 80% of the population live on less than $2 a day, owning, or having access to a car is simply not an option. I have a post set aside to explain the tro tros in more detail below.

There are 2 types of taxis here, and I am yet to distinguish the difference in their appearance. The first type is the share taxi, which generally leaves from a certain destination, like a bus stop, and transports people to another set destination. It works a bit like a bus as well, each seat is occupied, and each person only pays for their seat. Depending on where you are going, this is usually around a cedi, which is about 50c Australian, I think. If someone gets out, and there is a seat free, people on the side of the road will shout where they are going, and if the taxi is going to that location, they will stop and let you in.

The second type of taxi is a normal taxi, like you would find anywhere I guess, you flag them down, they take you to your destination. The only difference is you haggle with the driver before you get in, to negotiate the price. There are no meters, and really no set fair, just a guide. I am no good at haggling yet, but I’m beginning to get the idea of what different fares are worth.

Buses are another transport option, but from what I have seen, buses are only used long distance, and they work the same way as the tro tro, whereby, as far as I am aware, the bus won’t leave until all seats are occupied. I have a feeling though, some buses run on a schedule, but that’s just a guess.

The final form of transport, other than owning a car or flying is to hire a car and a driver. This works the same way as the taxi, you negotiate the fare and depending on the time frame, situation, you pay for their food and accommodation. We are considering hiring a car and a driver to go up to Mole National Park, about 12 hours north of Accra where we are. I don’t know much about this option just yet, but when I do, I’ll update you.

Accra

Accra, Accra, Accra. I don’t actually live in Accra, I live in Pokuase, about an hour, or 10km north ish, from Accra. We aren’t quite rural, I think it is considered a suburb, but it is vastly different from the city centre. At the bottom of the hill, there is a main road where we take the tro tro into town, that road is paved. The road leading downhill is paved, however most roads in the area are dirt.

Accra is an amazing city. I haven’t seen or noticed any high rise buildings, the airport is very close to the centre of town, there is a huge division of wealth and poverty, depending where you are. The Movenpick hotel is the only 5 star hotel in Accra, that doesn’t really mean anything to me, except we went there to steal there high speed wifi, and the enormity and grandeur of it blew me away. It is a huge statement of wealth, and division. Out the front the pavement is almost lined [that doesn’t sound like an appropriate description] it is basically lined with homeless people begging. I haven’t seen much begging in Accra, not compared to what I expected, I think it is the same as most cities. But out the front of the hotel it is very sad. For the incredibly rich people who stay there, I wonder what they see on the pavement, how they respond to the obvious inequality.

Depending on where you are, I say this again because it really does, you need to keep an eye on your belongings, be vigilant I think is the best way to describe it. I wear my back pack on my front if I feel unsafe. Once again, difficult use of words, I haven’t felt particularly unsafe yet, but if I feel there is a heightened level of pick pocketing I’ll put my bag on my front. There are people EVERYWHERE though, I can’t stress this enough. It is insane the number of people. Young kids walk through the streets alone from school, people selling everything and anything on the pavement and in little shop fronts.

What else can I tell you about Accra? Perhaps I will leave it there for now and tell you more, as I learn more. Oh, I must say there is a fabulous array of materials, every different colour and pattern and fabric and it is spectacular, walking through the streets I felt like I was in a lolly shop. I bought some material yesterday to get a dress made for me, the seamstress’ here are remarkable and I have never had anything made to fit before. Very excited!!

Climate

HOT! Sweaty! HOT! What more can I say. It is technically winter right now, but you wouldn’t know it. It gets to around 20 overnight, and up to around 32 during the day. That’s not too bad you say? Well there is no break in the weather, usually after 3 or 4 days you’d expect a thunderstorm, nope. Plus add 70% humidity to that. I have never sweated so much in my life. March, April is the rainy season apparently, no idea what that is going to be like. Steamy I imagine.

Music

I haven’t had much exposure to the music yet. But from what I have heard, and been told, there is a lot of reggae. Reggae isn’t my first choice of music but the rhythm and beat they have here is hypnotic. We went to a beach party on Wednesday night and it was great. There is about 4 meters of sand, as the tide comes in, and they had chairs and tables along the sand, with a DJ and stalls selling kebabs and food and drinks. Great fun. There is another genre of music I am yet to hear called hip-life. This is a combination of hip hop and high-life which originate in the 1920s I think. I am looking forward to hearing it.

When I learn more I will tell you more.