Chasing the Wild Obama-llama

So, like a few weeks ago when we went to see Accra to chase down the Stanley Cup, Conor and I took off last week in another mad dash for another Canadian pastime.....going to see Obama.

Conor and I, with our friend Portia, took off to Cape Coast to see the man himself as he stopped through the town, on a historic journey to Cape Coast Castle (which was the Costco of human trafficking in the day). The town was full of Yovus like us (or Obruni, outside of Ewe Land) though we couldn't find any Americans....mostly people from Germany, Great Britain and Canada. Still, lots of tourists....and lots of Ghanains (mostly Coastians) all excited to see Obama.

The next highest population consisted of imported police and military types from both countries. Have I mentioned the really big guns the police carry around on a normal day at a teeny little outpost/roadblock on the dirt road to the outlying villages like Nyive? Well, it seems they upgraded for the occasion....or maybe there was just lots of them, I dunno which.

As the hour of his arrival rolled closer (give or take 5 hours on the proposed itinerary) we gave up all belief that we were going to even make it to the road where he was supposed to pass by. It was right outside our hotel room, but we'd been yelled at by men in camouflage toting weapons as tall as I was, just trying to get into the place. We were resigned to not being allowed back out. Luckily, the hotel had an upstairs outdoor bar...where we had a great view of the road, from the shade, with a chair, all on our own and with the ability to order drinks. We stayed there for a few hours, watching security people drive by. Once we saw the strange sight of a hawker being chased by a policeman with a 2x4. Eventually two military types wandered over to the hotel and made the staff kick us out from the upstairs. As we came down, with no where to go, they told us to go across the road. We looked skeptically across the field with trolling security that seemed to be sweating ammunition. They told us to go and eventually gave us a police escort to the crowd on the other end of the street (no one was allowed on our side).

We joined the crowd, found a random rock to stand on and settled in for the wait. In the military's haste to kick us out, I didn't have time to retrieve sunscreen from our room (and Obama was supposed to be there any minute/3 hours ago) and seeing that he was very late, I got a terrible blistering sunburn on my nose and face...curse my red headed complexion without the saucy ginger hair itself. Just as we got there, the soldiers tried to herd the whole crowd into a narrower and narrower space. No one liked this, but we clung to our rock and were unaffected.

Eventually he came, drove by, shook hands with the chiefs of Cape Coast. Portia saw him but leaping locals and people swarming the soldier ridden balcony above us, despite the soldiers, and clung to the very wall itself to get a view, made it a little difficult for us to see. I held my camera up and blindly took picture after picture. Eventually he got back in the care and drove the next 300m to the castle itself for a tour with his family. Disapointed we had only seen the bumper of his motorcade, Conor and I were resigned that that was probably it. Just as we were debating whether to leave or wait for everyone to disperse a bit, as thy were doing, riot police came and ushered everyone back from the forward area they had been pushed out of initially.

Suddenly, the riot police ran forward, cleaving through the crowd and everyone started running. We clung to the rock for fear of being trampled. Remember that seen from the Lion King with the Wildebeasts and the hyenas? The one where Mufasa dies? That's what we were trying to avoid while perched on our tiny rock. Five feet in front of us, the riot police caught and started to beat the beligerent and suddenly very apologetic man who had started the commotion in the first place (Portia translated that the man had been insulting the cops for telling him what to do).

Once things calmed down, we got off our rock and made to leave. While attempting this, we discovered why the crowd was so slow at dispersing (we thought it was cause they all wanted to see him come back from the castle and drive away). Apparently no one was allowed to leave the conveniently squared off section, the only place anyone was allowed to be, until he had left the city. Any attempts to do otherwise were discouraged by more military types with even more guns. (I should add that I rarely see military/soldier types or large gatherings of armed police except when the American president is in town....my regular life is not nearly so cluttered with weaponry.) So we were stuck....for no one knew how long, in a hoard of hundreds of people with no shade, no shelter and no bathroom....

I would like to add, for President Atta Mills, if he ever reads my blog, that perhaps inserting a huge hoard of people under these conditions for hours in the sun is perhaps counter productive from a security point of view. Luckily there were plenty of people selling food and drinks off there heads, wandering around the small hilled compound. We took the opportunity to sample some of the Ghanaian head food that we were normally too busy to sample. We tried some interesting curried kebabs, bean based springrolls, cookies, and even some old favourites...a little bit of popcorn and something ain to a very large fresh plain timpit called "bo froot". I LOVE bo froot. But no matter how much I love bo froot, Obama was getting to be a pain in the ass. My gluteal muscles the next morning could tell you I mean this literally. I never thought I'd be happy for him to leave the vicinity, given how much I like him.

We also took the opportunity to look at some of the pictures we took. We discovered very happily, that I had managed a lucky shot of Obama waving out the window as he drove by! Very cool random shot....all the pictures I had taken without looking seemed to turn out really well.

Eventually he left, we waved off his motorcade and everyone flooded the streets partying. Lots of happy partying Ghanainas. We made it back to our hotel and through the palm trees we watched the US Marine Copters flying away. That last part was a little surreal and like the closing scene of a Vietnam War flick.

For everyone worried about our frolicking and full body frisking with danger, we're fine...nothing dangerous ever really happened, the police an military did very well, despite our preferences, and from what we could tell only ever acted appropriately.

Either way...we're alive and well. Conor feels like he healed her leprosy.

Ciao for now!
-The Jessicat