How to survive lock jaw while crossing the Ghanian border
No one is going to convince me otherwise, Peace Corps Ghana is a complete cakewalk compared to Burkina. There is a reason why the one woman I spoke with only knew of two people quitting service early, one of whom had a nervous breakdown. Ghana is in a word, awesome.
I.
The best part of the stretch between Ouaga and Kumasi is watching the brown drab of Burkina melt into the vibrant green of Ghana. I realize now that I really hate the dessert. I am never living in a dessert again if I can help it.
Before we crossed the border into Ghana there was a car following us. The driver thought they were bandits. That road is notorious for it, though not normally during daylight. Anyway, they inform the gendarme police at one of the checkpoints, and the guys hop on their motorcycles in their barrets with their big semiautomatics and take off down the road. It was a bit surreal. We waited there for another half hour maybe, waiting for the bandits I guess. Its that West African logic.
Then maybe two hours into the ride I dislocated my jaw by yawning too wide. I spent about 20 hours wondering if I was ever going to close my mouth again. It was really really painful and I couldnt eat because I couldnt chew. We got into Kumasi at one in the morning, where the locals begged us not to leave the station because of the Nigerian bandits that would probably hold up our taxi even if we did find one that late at night. So we ended up watching half of King Kong until my friends lab top battery died and then everyone went to sleep except me, because it was impossible.
The next morning we went to the emergency room and a dentist popped my jaw back into place. I was never so thankful.
We left for the beach that day. People had talked up this one hotel that turned out to be literally in the middle of nowhere and extremely hard to get to. On the last stretch the taxis muffler fell off. We waited under the stars with the jungle all around while he tried to fix it, then gave up and stashed it in the bushes.
II.
The trip actually ended up being rather fly by the seat of the pants and aimless. We did a lot of walking around a lot talking to people, eating great seafood and American, enjoying the stretches of deserted beach.
We went to middle of nowhere Ghana to the beach, then Basua, a little beach rasta town. Then we saw the slave fort at Elmina, which was on my list of things to see before I die, then partied with the (Im sorry but they were spoiled) Ghana PCVs in Accra.
There is more to say but Im tired of writing, so maybe later.
I.
The best part of the stretch between Ouaga and Kumasi is watching the brown drab of Burkina melt into the vibrant green of Ghana. I realize now that I really hate the dessert. I am never living in a dessert again if I can help it.
Before we crossed the border into Ghana there was a car following us. The driver thought they were bandits. That road is notorious for it, though not normally during daylight. Anyway, they inform the gendarme police at one of the checkpoints, and the guys hop on their motorcycles in their barrets with their big semiautomatics and take off down the road. It was a bit surreal. We waited there for another half hour maybe, waiting for the bandits I guess. Its that West African logic.
Then maybe two hours into the ride I dislocated my jaw by yawning too wide. I spent about 20 hours wondering if I was ever going to close my mouth again. It was really really painful and I couldnt eat because I couldnt chew. We got into Kumasi at one in the morning, where the locals begged us not to leave the station because of the Nigerian bandits that would probably hold up our taxi even if we did find one that late at night. So we ended up watching half of King Kong until my friends lab top battery died and then everyone went to sleep except me, because it was impossible.
The next morning we went to the emergency room and a dentist popped my jaw back into place. I was never so thankful.
We left for the beach that day. People had talked up this one hotel that turned out to be literally in the middle of nowhere and extremely hard to get to. On the last stretch the taxis muffler fell off. We waited under the stars with the jungle all around while he tried to fix it, then gave up and stashed it in the bushes.
II.
The trip actually ended up being rather fly by the seat of the pants and aimless. We did a lot of walking around a lot talking to people, eating great seafood and American, enjoying the stretches of deserted beach.
We went to middle of nowhere Ghana to the beach, then Basua, a little beach rasta town. Then we saw the slave fort at Elmina, which was on my list of things to see before I die, then partied with the (Im sorry but they were spoiled) Ghana PCVs in Accra.
There is more to say but Im tired of writing, so maybe later.