Wli Falls

       

        After leaving the monkey sanctuary we drove  another hour or so to Wili Falls. Driving here is very difficult to describe. It is made easier by limited cellular. The Cannon's Ipad gets cellular when it is available so though many of the roads are not even on Google Maps we can program and star approximately where we are going.  These roads were all dirt with unreal potholes making the ones by our apartment seem like nothing. What is the worst is to have puddles and potholes full of water because then you cannot judge the depth of the water. It makes you think of Arizona washes when there is a Monsoon storm. Sometimes you are even driving through tall grass so that there is only room for one car at a time. There are always people walking on the roads that you have to dodge. They walk for miles and then all of a sudden they vanish into the grass and you assume that they live somewhere back in there but there is never any sign of a path let alone any living quarters.

        The Wli Falls is the highest falls in all of West Africa. Once you get to where you can park it is an hour walk to the falls.  The mountain range here is what separates Ghana and Togo on the east. You have to pay an entrance fee, always more for foreigners, and have a guide go with you for this moderate climb that takes you over seven bridges back in the jungle. The falls are twice as high but we were only able to see the lower falls. It is another two hours climb to the upper falls. It is not that the climb would have been bad but you do not want to be on these roads after dark. Driving even in the cities is not comfortable after dark.

Our guide had planted his own banana tree and shared the sweetest bananas.

Thousands of bats hanging on this cliff.

Half of a cocoa pod.

Ghanaian pineapple. Not mature yet. Will be green.

        In all of Ghana, because we are so close to the Equator, the length of the day varies only about 40 minutes during the year. People here have no concept of seasons unless the very few have been somewhere else. We have met a few that have been to England on holiday, even less that have been to the US. Most of the returned missionaries have only been to Nigeria or Sierra Leone. Since we have been here it is completely light by 5:45 A.M. and completely dark by 6:00 P.M. As we drove back to Ho it was a little disconcerting because we did not have light for an hour but we arrived safely to meet the Cosgraves for dinner right at seven.

        The Cosgraves are MLS, Membership, Leadership and Support missionaries. They are truly loved here in Ho. Elder Cosgrave is a doctor and though he is not on a medical mission he has had many opportunities to use his skills. They serve the members and support the 18 missionaries in the environs and have been instrumental in helping so many of the young people that really have no families. The Cosgraves will be missed so much when they go home before Thanksgiving. They are leaving the mission early because next July they will be assigned to be a Mission President couple somewhere. They will know their assignment in December or January.

Kenta Weaver and Market Day

The Kenta Weaver and the Friday Market in Ho

        One of the unique things to see in Ghana is a Kenta weaver. They use a very fine thread, weaving the different colors by hand on a loom that they control with the toes of their bare feet. The motion of the feet is similar to the concept of a treadle sewing machine when the hands and feet are doing something totally different. The main treads are tied to a stone that is placed maybe 25 feet from the loom. As the strips of cloth are woven this heavy block is slowly pulled along the ground.

        The cloth is woven in strips about eight inches wide. The strips are then sewn together to create desired sizes of cloth for various uses. The most impressive is the use of one single piece made of many strips that are worn by men as a full length toga, wrapped around, ground length and thrown over one shoulder, the other shoulder is bare. Different tribes will have different designs like the clans of Scotland and their tartans.

        The young weaver's name is Holy and he and he has his uncle working by him on the second loom. You can see how slender the uncle is but the muscles in his arms tell you the strength that is required to weave and pull that stone.

        In a small little cubicle nearby is the dressmaker. She is the wife of Holy.  She really has a fine business because she has an enclosed area all by herself and a treadle machine, a Butterfly, made in China. Her portable machine is only hand cranked and she will put it on her head and go from house to house when she needs to make or repair something for a customer. I can't even imagine carry a sewing machine on your head, yet they never falter or miss a step. It is surprising how well the clothes are made. She uses no pattern, just the client's measurements and maybe an idea from a picture.

        

        Every village has their market day. We walked around the one in Ho in Friday. There are shoppers, vendors and all kinds of smells. The smell of the smoked tilapia was somewhat hard to take but other than that it wasn't that bad. I usually ask some one if I can take their picture. The lady with the large Ghanaian snails wouldn't let me take the snails' picture. They are different, 4-6 inch shells. She held one up and it came quite a ways out of its shell and its "lips" were moving in and out like it was trying to speak. I'm sure he would have liked to pose for a picture.

Pounding Cassava for fufu

Fufu formed into dough for soup

The soup

Watermelon

Palm nuts used to make palm oil

Plantains not bananas

Sweet potatoes

Crowds

       

Beautiful peppers

Interesting women

They have leafy vegetables. We don't eat it.

More peppers

Bread lady

More and more people

Little bags of groundnut paste

Tilapia

        We were excited because we were in need of a dish drainer and we found on. When the lady said 15 Cedis we did not even barter. It had been around for quite a while but we knew it would scrub up and be just fine.

       

"The Gods Must Be Crazy"

A Real Live African Bushman

        While we were in the Jungle with the monkeys this man walked by making all the vocal sounds that you would expect. This was a highlight. I did not want to take his picture from the front. It was surreal.

The Tafi Monkey Sanctuary

        While we were in Ho we were without any obligation so we headed north another couple of hours to what is called the Tafi Monkey Sanctuary. These are Mona monkeys. Apparently there are different varieties of Mona monkeys but here they consider these to be the true Mona monkeys. There are four tribes of the monkeys that live here, each with their own commander, who warns them of danger or the encroachment of another one of the tribes. We wandered back into the jungle as we located each tribe. Though they live in close proximity to one another they do not mingle.

        The history and the legends surrounding these monkeys is interesting. In the Book of Mormon the Anti-Nephi-Lehites, or Ammonites, haid laid down their weapons of war and had vowed to never take them up again. The tribes of people that now live in this area were also not warriors so legend has it that the monkeys preceded the people as they migrated and the monkeys were in charge of the safety of the people. They would go before and clear paths and fight battles with the other tribes. From that time these monkeys have been sacred to the people that live in this village.
        In the 1980's Christian missionaries arrived in this area and as they set up churches and converted the people to Christianity they taught the people that holding the monkeys sacred was against the doctrines of the church. The tribes now took the opportunity if the monkeys were no longer sacred to kill and use them for food. In 1990 a professor came, I forget from which university, to study the monkeys. He was able to convince the tribal leaders that the monkeys needed to be preserved. However, the only way to do that was to once again go against Christian teachings and tell the people that there was a taboo on the monkeys and that anyone killing one could have serious sufferings or even death. This is the basic story explained to us by our guide Vincent. You may believe what you like.
        The facts are that since 1995 the monkeys have bee protected and visiting there is a great experience and I am not even a lover of monkeys. The money brought in by visitors to the sanctuary has really helped this village. There are four tribes of monkeys each governed by a commander. Each commander makes a very specific throaty sound that resonates through his mouth making puffed out cheeks. He is considerably larger than the other monkeys and will not jump on you though I did try to get a picture of him as he came out of the tree and lunged for a banana.
        Over the years the people of the village had noticed that they never did see a dead monkey. So during the five years that they were studied it was found, as the researchers were able to get closer and closer to the monkeys, they they buried their dead. They appeared to be in such a state of mourning over their loss that they did not even notice the people watching them.
        This was a great opportunity. We bought bananas on the street and they were hidden in a black plastic bag. Vincent knew just how much to proportion out to each tribe. H would break the banana in half and then we would hold it in our hand very securely with your arm flexed tight. The monkeys would jump on you and climb down your arm and peel back the skin of the banana and eat it. It was so easy to tell the strength that they had, such power in those little bodies. What a creation. You had to have respect for them.

In Ho at the Batik Factory

        Wednesday it rained all day but we did go to the batik factory that was working in the rain. We got permission to walk around but we were not allowed to take any pictures. They are afraid that you will steal their trade secrets I guess. I really believe they are concerned that you will report them to OSHA for violations. It is so hard to try to convey what we saw. There were women in the front folding the cloth after it came out of very old fashioned mangles. One woman had her baby tied to her back as she sat in a chair folding cloth. The next minute she was breast feeding the baby, uncovered and still folding. Others were catching rain water off the roof into large garbage cans that were full of the colored cloth.

        We went out to the back where the real action was. There were three rows of workers, maybe six or eight in a row, each row having a specific job. The first row had large metal barrels that had a very hot charcoal fire under each barrel.The men had large poles that they used to stir the fabric that was in each metal barrel. They did wear rubber boots and long rubber gloves. With their poles they would then lift the fabric out of the pots and literally throw it back to the barrels on the next row. Hot water mixed with the colored dye flying everywhere. I think that this was the first rinse and then it would be thrown again to the last row where women would lift out the cloth and wring it by hand. Each piece of cloth is no less than six yards in length. Back breaking work. Here among all this open fire were a few young children wandering around. It seemed quite frightening to this foreigner.

        There was an area with lots of tables where they were stamping the fabric with different colors and designs. The basic white fabric with some kind of a pale pink design comes from China. Unfortunately there was not an even flow to this workplace so I don't know the actual order in which the fabric is created. Maybe that is part of the "trade secrets". I just know that the work was very interesting and that I was amazed with the woman that was melting wax over a small charcoal stove and was moving the wax around with her fingers.

        On Friday when it was sunny we drove back past the factory and saw some of the fabric laying on the ground, even up one of the roads to dry. It is so wonderful to see the colors they produce. We have been to a batik factory (also in the rain) in China but there it was only the Chinese blue and white and the designs were created from tying the cloth. Here it is done with stamps.