Yesterday was Capers’ 24th birthday that we celebrated dancing and meeting new people at Hohoe’s very own, hot spot of the town, Malezia. We were thoroughly entertained that night by a oversized hippie chick, so obviously trying to “get hers,” - Chandler, from a local Ghanaian that was hesitant, but seemed open to the idea. We watched them dance, drink, flirt and finally kiss! Ching... It was on. Later in the night we caught a glimpse of them walking away from the club together and wondered… Where is he taking her back to? An average house around here lies somewhere in between a mud hut and a cinder block structure with foam core beds on the floor. It was also nearly 1AM so there would be no way for her to catch a taxi back home either. She was shacking up, Ghanaian style, with a heavy walk of shame awaiting her in the morning. Better than American soap operas; we'll take it!
The birthday festivities would continue into the next day, turning out to be the holy grail of Ghanaian adventures. We caught a taxi and sped down the pothole-infested roads to the Wili Waterfall. After concluding during my last trip to Ghana, the fall is by far the most majestic and breathtaking piece of natural sculpture I’ve ever seen. I anticipated its awe as we bumped and tumbled down the partially paved roads. Squeezed six deep in a four-person cab, we sped terrorously (as all Ghanaians drive here) down the dry, dirt roads, sucking in so much dust and dirt from outside it felt like licking a chalkboard. Nonetheless, we safely arrived and began our hike through the lush jungle toward the falls.
Rays of sunlight gleamed hazy through the towering trees above, creating a light glow on our path. A mat of fallen leaves paved our steps, emitting a soft crunch with each stride. I walked barefoot for a while and let myself become one with the earth in an attempt to feel the entirety of the moment. The air was warm with patches of moisture where our path occasionally met the intersecting river downstreem from the fall. Oddly, this somehow threw me back in time to my elementary school atrium during thanksgiving where our principal would bring his pet turkey for each class to come see throughout the day. Strange, but true. As we continued down the path, the overall feel was that of a peaceful dream, or mirage if I could speculate how that might feel. We chatted and walked the painted paths until we came to an opening in the fauna, revealing crystal blue falls towering a modest estimate of thirty stories high. (The photos in no way do it justice). The fall drew us in like a magnet with its fine mist sprinkling our faces. I stood in awe for a few minutes then found a slick rock at the base of the falls to sit cross-legged on, in an unintentional meditation that made everything other than the beauty before me fade away like white washing a canvas. I don’t know how long I sat there, but as I did, there was a powerful rush of water in my ears, a light stream of strength in my heart and a steady gust of wind blowing across my face and through my hair. In an un-idolistic way, I can totally understand why tribal religions of the past worshiped things of nature. It may not have been that they thought the waterfall itself would give them something for their praise, but that it was a medium of communication between them and a higher power. Entrancing. After slowly returning from hypnosis, we jumped in the water and inched closer and closer to the rushing fall in front of us. We fought through the rush of water plummeting from above and made it to the smooth rock wall behind where we could breathe and see each other with the water still rushing down our backs. We screamed and laughed and eventually bailed. We ended up just relaxing in the water and then on the shore in the sun until it began to gently fall in the sky. It’s always a strange feeling turning your back on something so breathtaking, but we left it behind us and ventured in a peaceful cloud of refreshment back through the jungle and onto the dirt paved street where we waited for a taxi.
~ Wili Waterfall ~
We crammed back into a cab and in half an hours time we were back at Nii’s house ready to have some fun. Capers was celebrating her birthday again tonight with a house party we invited nearly twenty people to, double that if you count all the neighborhood kids that flocked to our loud music later in the evening. The party took off just as we finished eating dinner and people kept filing in and out saying hello, talking for a bit, leaving, then returning later. Nii has two other Rasta friends named Sigon and Raymond that are characters I wish everyone could experience at some point in their life… either that or be the next big Hollywood comedy duo. Hesitantly described as: Night at the Roxberry meets Damian Marley, with a hint of indigenous qualities that make everything they do even more entertaining. For example, every time they come over to the house, they bring their jimba drums and flow to their own beats for hours. Their go-to beat with deep monotone vocals goes something like, “Iiit’s sooo niiiiice, so nice, so nice, so nice…. iiiiiiiit’s soo niiiiice, so nice- so nice- so nice…” Last night they even made a "Capers" remix, adding …soo niiice, Capers-Capers-Capers-Capers!” to the beat in a thick Rasta accent. SO funny I wish I could upload videos. (P.S. I do realize that probably doesn’t make sense, but it was worth a shot).
Anyway, the party was super fun with both a bon fire and a dance party in the front yard! The kids from the neighborhood- most definitely the same ones from in front of the water stand a few nights back- invaded the dance floor and started up their dance-offs again. One boy, about eight years old, even entered the dance floor walking on his hands for like 20 seconds, did a twirl dismount, stood up quick into a still pose, popped a few quick, gnarly moves then strutted out like a bad ass! What?!? MJ reincarnated... It was sick. Two super round, super young girls then had a dance off that lasted over 5 minutes and I don’t think they broke their intense eye contact with one another the entire time. This of course prompted Chandler to say, “What are they putting in the pudding around here?” (...) They were dancing so hard I’m just glad they didn’t pass out. It was really cool to see how good all the kids were and later our neighbor told us she used to dance like that when she was young too; It’s just something the kids have done for generations. How baller would it be if when people in America heard a heavy beat that we’d all just get up and dance our asses off simply because we loved it and no one cared? I’ll take two, thanks. The night ended relatively early, around 11 or so, but so much had happened in the past 24 hours it felt much, much later. We said goodbye to the last of our friends and chilled out inside until we had no energy left to stay up. An epic birthday weekend complete and tons of stories to go with it.
~ Capers' Birthday Party! ~
 |
  |
 |
| The Rasta Brothers |
No comments:
Post a Comment