(Quick technical note: arrgghhh! Trying to connect to the Internet in Kumasi is some kind of low-tech version of Chinese water torture. Just to get to this page took 20 minutes; please take a moment to truly imagine that brand of torment. Meanwhile, gmail is flaking again. Laura's got Yahoo up right now, and it took her 'only' 10 minutes to get into her account. Opening a new email for her takes about 5 minutes. And of course it doesn't help that this particular Internet place is flooded with prom music. Advice: If you're traveling somewhere with patchy connections, go Yahoo over gmail. I can't even believe I'm saying that. )
And now, to the game!
So the overnight train that we took on Saturday night to Kumasi turned out to be the most comfortable mode of transport we've tried yet. We had our own little 'first class' sleeper box (at $3.50 each) and despite the fact that the beds came out of the wall at weird angles and the train itself was entirely ancient (I would never have thought the term 'shattering metal' made sense, until now; it sounded like we were dragging chains the whole way, and every time we pulled out of a station Laura and I had to brace our feet against the opposite wall to keep from taking flight) it was a pretty sweet deal all around. Laura took some amazing nighttime shots out the window; she's super talented, with a great 10x digital camera. Meanwhile, I got sort of into the strange feeling of rocking head to toe versus side to side on the top bunk.
We pulled in at around 10:30am and headed straight to the hotel - a big, white dorm type of place apparently favored by Indian travelers, since the 'lobby' was filled with Indian men watching a countdown of the top 10 hits from India in 2004 on what may actually be satellite TV, possibly set up by Indians. But the town was already buzzing, gametime fast approaching, so we dropped our bags and beelined for the stadium. Signs of game excitement were everywhere: lots of people streaming down the streets, dressed in red and waving the red and white team flag of Kumasi Kotoko (kotoko = some sort of rainforest porcupine, from the looks of it). Fans of Accra Hearts of Oak were less obvious and wore their flags more demurely, around their wrists and in their pockets. Outside the stadium vendors were pushing all sorts of team gear, and we spent some time picking through the fray for souvenirs and for some Kotoko gear to wear during the game, to signal our allegiance. Laura bought some sort of red and white striped puffy hat that somehow smacked of Sonny and Cher and Dr. Seuss at the same time; I grabbed a baseball hat with a big fat kotoko on the front of it. We headed in.
We didn't get the VIP seats we'd wanted, even though we entered the stadium more than three hours before the start of the game - too many dignitaries and press people were there, sucking up the good seats. But we did manage to get the next level down ($10), which we hoped would prevent us from watching the game under tro-tro-like conditions. As it happened, the stadium was so crowded that it was only by luck that we wrestled into seats that gave us a bit of a view - green plastic chairs of questionable stability, screwed into concrete.
The stadium itself was huge, about the size of your standard massive professional sports arena. Maybe 60,000 to 80,000? The snacks were a bit different, though. Instead of munching on hot dogs, it was grilled plantains. There were peanuts and popcorn, only the peanuts were covered in coconut and both snacks were carried in big bowls perched on top of a big plate that was in turn perched on top of a woman's head. Ice cream too, carried in big rectangular boxes, again perched on heads. The band, which did not stop playing once the whole game, featured the normal brass and horns, but also had a tribal drum section. They set the beat for the whole game, drumming faster and louder every time Kumasi approached Accra's goal. Police in full riot gear were everywhere, and numbered in the hundreds.
When the teams took the field the whole crowd went nuts, and when the entire Accra team arrogantly kneeled in Kumasi's goal the crowd started yelling all sorts of things in Asanti, the local tribal language. The first half of the game started fast, and the referees, who hailed from Tunisia, were light on the calls. The first half went scoreless, though the first time Kumasi almost scored the volume of the crowd surged so loud we could feel reverberations through our plastic seats.
Eight minutes into the second half Kumasi scored, and I'm not sure I could even describe the crowd's excitement. The people behind Laura grabbed her from behind in a full body hug, without even thinking, which was a bit surprising, especially for Laura. I zigzagged my camera around trying to focus on something but everything and everyone was moving way too fast. Dancing, screaming - people were going nuts. Play resumed, the drums beat faster, and Kumasi controlled the ball completely. One Accra fan, a big dude with an Accra-colored flag tied around his head, started walking back and forth in front of us, slapping his chest (literally) and chanting something in Tre, the main language back in Accra. Maybe that worked, because with just 10 minutes left in the game one of Accra's top scorers pulled a flash move and scored. Kumasi fans went silent. Accra fans, mostly hidden before, came out of their seats and started dancing, then ran around yelling and taunting, ecstatic with the sudden turn of luck.
Then the clock ran out, with the game tied 1-1. But because this match was for the Confederacy Cup, someone had to win. And so it came down to penalty kicks. Nine players from each team sat crosslegged in the middle of the field, and one by one the players approached the goal. The crowd was still silent, but the place had the feel of something about to be unleashed. Laura and I quietly ran through our emergency exit plan.
The first four penalty kicks sailed into the goal. The tension was horrible, with the whole crowd leaning forward, us included. When a banana gum vendor suddenly walked in front of us, the guy sitting next to me shoved him aside. Clearly, this was no time for banana gum!
The fifth penalty kick, launched by Kumasi, sailed toward the net ... and was blocked. More stunned silence among Kumasi fans, and more insanity among those rooting for Accra. On their next turn Kumasi missed again, and it seemed the whole stadium realized the game was over even before the final kicks played out. Laura and I didn't need an escape plan after all, because the reaction of the Kumasi fans, when the Accra team ran onto the field in celebration, was ... more stunned silence. They just sat there, staring at the field, looking stoic but seriously sad, while the Accra fans danced and taunted their way out of the stadium. We sat there for about 15 minutes, just taking in the atmosphere of one seriously bummed set of 60,000 people. We were pretty silent too, sitting there and taking it all in. This was truly a once in a lifetime sports experience for both of us.
Since then we've been having a pretty chill time in Kumasi. We spent most of yesterday trying to navigate the labyrinthine market, which is just ridiculously vast. It's more a series of alleyways crammed with stalls than an open-air type of place, and it's also more of a practical market than we were expecting; I can't even count how many times we were offered toothpaste. But somehow we managed to stumble on one of the aisles we were hunting for, which featured stall after stall of beautifully patterned kente cloth, just an endless long view of colors and patterns traditional to the Asanti. A little advanced warning that Laura and I went a little nuts with the fabric, and will likely be sporting some seriously wild patterned skirts once we're back in San Francisco.
This morning we took a long walk through a butterfly sanctuary, where we saw hundreds of butterflies flitting about - orange, blue, yellow, white, black - and these unbelievably immense stands of bamboo - maybe 6 stories tall, and as thick around as two hands. It was an enchanting little place, though the logistics of getting there were yet another story to be filed under 'nothing in Ghana is straightforward.' Tomorrow we're thinking of heading out to see an allegedly beautiful lake about an hour southeast of Kumasi, but we're smart enough now to be prepared for the lake not to exist, and for the tro-tro ride that'll get us there to take seven times as long as expected, and break down mid-trip, and require us to travel with chickens in our laps. Then tomorrow afternoon we'll head back to Accra, to crash with the optometrist and his wife for a few days and travel with their team to various villages to look for people in urgent need of eyecare. Neither of us can imagine how that's not going to be amazing.
Once in Accra (land of the superfast computer) I'm hoping to talk to some more people about the mobile phone situation here, which is perplexing and full of many charming twists and surprises. Look for more on that later.... Meanwhile, we've just got to blow out of this Internet place. The prom music is killing us!
Hellos to everybody. from the both of us!
Hey everyone. I just wanted to give a shout out to all those who are virtually with us here in Ghana via Jenny's fabulous accounts. It's been amazing, crazy, challenging and ultimately unpredictable from one day to the next, even if we had a plan (I use that word loosely) in mind.
You know you are used to being in Ghana when: You are not suprised when a lizard exits your bag, when you expect to find fish oil in every item on the menu, when you need to wear your headlamp in order to read in your room with the light on, when the smell of open sewers is no loger overly offensive, when you long for anything other than rice at least once a day, when a taxi is the only way to get to a town 16km away in less than 60 minutes, when you are amazed when you find yourself on a paved road, when washing your clothes makes them take on colors you didn't even have in your wardrobe, when it is standard practice to wash your feet before going to bed due to the caked on dirt, and ultimately when there is no such thing as a suprise.
We are having a great time every step of the way despite the madness.
Thanks for joining us. Catch you on the next installment.... Laura.
Posted by: Laura | 11 January 2005 at 12:25 PM