I get off the plane from Atlanta to Accra, Ghana to a smell of pure humidity, heat, food, slight body odor and people. The town streets are jam packed with people, cars, street goats- yes goats, and small shops. The streets are lined with deep concrete trenches used for sewage, drainage, and the occasional toilet.
We are picked up by Tina, the owner of my internship company Della's friend and immediately head off to a ware house to try and buy local ATL fabric in bulk for her next line of laptop cases and hobo bags. Once we finally arrive to the fabric wholesaler, we must be approved before being allowed to enter the actual warehouse and are stuck out in the foyer for nearly twenty minutes waiting for approval- my first experience of Ghana time. An eloquent time-waster was getting to gawk over almost fifty sample Ghanaian fabrics hanging on wooden racks, folded and taped to hold just so. Each print was wildly vibrant, some tribal, some childish, others just whirlwinds of overwhelming pattern perfection. The cotton texture was heavier than usual and felt waxy to the touch, but would not be too overweight to wear as a dress. The patterns are just in line with Tina’s collections and I can tell she will definitely find something here she is looking for- fun, tribal, trendy and chic.
We are finally permitted to enter the HUGE ATL warehouse full of even more beautiful fabrics all bound with twine in white fabric bundles with large, black letting stamped on the sides for labeling their contents. Some of the bundles are slashed open exposing their brilliant contents, and we float around the room opening the bags wider to pick at the fillings and gush with awe. The lighting in the warehouse was dim but the fabrics were bright. After about an hour Tina had finally narrowed it down to four or five patterns needed for her upcoming production. We left the warehouse excited and chatting about all the patterns and colors and designs of garments we could create.
Warehouse purchase being delivered to the van Accra, Ghana
We had about a three hour drive from Accra to Hohoe, Ghana where we were staying and it was getting later in the evening so we really needed to get a move on. Leaving Accra was absolute chaos because the city had the pace of New York city with absolutely no organization of people or traffic other than you generally try and drive on the right side of the road. People walked through the bumper to bumper traffic selling things into car windows like food, water, toilet paper, and pretty much anything else you may need. If the traffic sped up, the seller would have to sprint up to your car to either get their owed money or give you the item you had paid for a few yards back. Once we finally got out of the urban area, we headed down long dark roads that looked as if they were either abandoned west Texas towns dropped in the middle of the lush jungle.
I am about to dose off when we suddenly pull over and everyone (me, Tina, Chelsea the other assistant, Tina's friend and co-worker Nii and the van driver) get out to find that we apparently need a new break pad. Surprisingly, the guys get to working at changing the break pad themselves right there in the middle of nowhere in Ghana about an hour out from Accra. All of a sudden I look up from talking with Tina and Chelsea and there are now five guys sanding around watching one or two max of the other guys actually working on the brake pad. Finally, they get everything running as properly as possible and they hop back in the van ready to roll on. Jumping back in that van for the two-hour ride to Hohoe from where we broke down about an hour outside of Accra was last on my list of things to do in that moment, but we all piled in and off we sped into the unknown.
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