Day 2: The Road to Kokrobite

Today, I caught up with the adventurous Oskar Butcher (friend from Dulwich College, London). After an hour long journey with my new taxi driver friend, Appiah, we arrived at the meeting point.

“Just give me a call when you get to the petrol station in Kokrobite” Oskar had told me, “everyone knows it so you’ll be able to find it for sure”. And he was right, everyone we asked as we approached Kokrobite (pronounced kok-roh-bee-tay) pointed us in the direction of the petrol station but it was far from what we were expecting. There was no sign. No entry path. No labelled tanks of fuel. Instead, two pumps, a few barrels and the owner.

Oskar has already been in Ghana for 4 weeks, and is leaving at the end of this week. After chatting for five minutes, I began to understand how much he loves Kokrobite and its vibrant people- and it’s pretty clear that all the people love him too! As we walked along the road to the school he's been volunteering in, every other person called to him “Alright, Oskar”, “Hey Oskar!”, “Oskar, my friend!”.

The school building is very small, and Oskar took me in to observe a lesson. There were about 50 children in the class we went into (average sized class!) and only one teacher and classroom assistant (in this case, Oskar). The kids were full of life, incredibly polite and eager to say hello. After observing a lesson in the correct use of prepositions in a sentence, we left for a walk by the sea.

Kokrobite felt like a world away from Dansoman- slightly more rural, with stalls instead of shops and bumpy roads lined with potholes. It was, nonetheless, well worth the visit. It was refreshing to see Oskar get on so easily with all the locals and fully embrace their way of life: “Coach invited me back to his place for dinner and I had fufu and soup”.

However, the highlight of my day was not walking barefoot along the sea, or meeting all the children from the local school or even drinking Alvaro in the shade (a drink reminiscent of pineapple KA). It was the slimy man who approached me, whilst Oskar was busy seeing a man about a drum, and whispered slowly in my ear “would you like to come and cook for me, my dear?”

Erm maybe next time. 

Or not.