Alan Whelan - The Black Stars of Ghana: A Motorcycle Adventure in West Africa

THE BLACK STARS OF GHANA

A Motorcycle Adventure in WestAfrica

ALAN WHELAN

An Inkstand Press book

Smashwords edition

Copyright Alan Whelan2012

www.abhaha.com

This ebook is licensed for yourpersonal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or givenaway to other people. If you would like to share this book withanother person, please purchase an additional copy for eachrecipient. If youre reading this book and did not purchase it, orit was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respectingthe hard work of this author.

Cover design by Encore Advertising& Design

First published in 2012 ISBN:978-0-9572248-0-3

What others are saying about AlanWhelan's travel writing.

THE BLACK STARS OF GHANA

'A vivid and moving introduction toGhana from a novel and welcome perspective.'

Lord Boateng.

'TheBlack Stars of Ghana is littered with enviable and illuminatingturns-of-phrase of the kind that made African Brew Ha-Ha one of thestand out books in recent motorcycle travel writing.' Overland Magazine

'Alan Whelan's journey to the farreaches of this extraordinary country is documented with startlingclarity... The Black Stars of Ghana is an insightful, well-writtenmemoir which positively sparkles with energy and colour - asnapshot of a defining moment in the recent history of a nation.This is an important read for any biker with a sense ofadventure.'

Visordown

AFRICAN BREW HA-HA

'Joy and heartache, despair andexhilaration, moments of sheer insanity ... Alan Whelan capturesAfrica to a T' -

Travel writer PeterMoore

'His writing ability is way abovethe norm and seeing Africa through his fresh pair of eyes was adelight'

Adventure TravelMagazine

'With a keen, predominantlyoptimistic eye, Whelan portrays his encounterspoignantly'

Real Travel magazine

'A wonderful book that is writtenfrom hard-won and well-lived experience; I cannot recommend ithighly enough'

Author Steve McLaughlin

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alan Whelan trained as a journalistand is now a ghostwriter and copywriter.

His overriding ambition as a childgrowing up in London was to travel. His school careers teachertried to hold him back when she told him that 'travelling' was nota career. But he moved to New York City aged 20 where he worked onthe lower east side for five years he's been travelling eversince.

He has visited many Africancountries, mostly travelling solo on a Triumph Tiger.

His first major overland tripbecame African Brew Ha-Ha.

The second trip took him to Ghana,the subject of The Black Stars of Ghana.

Thethird journey took him around Lake Victoria on a boda boda, whichwill become Empire Road (due 2013). He blogs about Africa,motorcycles and tea at www.abhaha.com

CONTENTS

Chapter1

Dear consumer: Thankyou for buying motorcycle with elegant style. Motorcycle hasexcellent qualities and advantages out of ordinary with its smartappearance and will superinduce a lot of pleasures and convenienceto your life.

I turn the page of the handbook butthe English translation doesnt get any clearer.

Is a very good moto, says thesalesman. Chinese! Is new!

I want to ride it before I buy.One thousand cedis is a lot of money, I plead.

Its not a lot of money for a new(if small) motorcycle. Its exactly 500.

But I only sell new bikes, heanswers. If you ride the bike, the bike will not benew!

But I want to make sureeverything works. I dont know...

The Royal RYGY 150 stands betweenme and the salesman on the busy Accra street in Caprice, aneighbourhood remarkable for the number of motorbike workshopsinterspersed with hundreds of secondhand refrigerators for sale onthe pavement. I have brought a new pal with me, Prince, to assistwith translation, but when it comes to bargaining with hard cash notranslation is required.

Ive never bought a motorbikewithout riding it before, still less one made in China with a tiny150cc engine that comes with an unintelligible manual and must soontake me to the four corners of Ghana; and certainly not one thatpromises to superinduce a lot of pleasures and convenience to mylife.

The salesman notes my ambivalence,so he swings a leg over the seat and turns the key in theignition.

Aweak, synthesised Chinese voice seeps out of the bike:Wehcorm to WoyohMotorcycoo ... which is soonswallowed by the whoosh of passing traffic.

The salesman says, Do you hear it?It is class.

He then starts the engine and ridesthe bike on the pavement to the corner of the street not twentymetres away. He turns around and rides back in firstgear.

Is perfect! All is OK. Now, youbuy?

We both know Im going tobuy.

After a previous overland trip fromBlackburn to Cape Town and Im aware its not often you hearthose two places mentioned in the same sentence of a travel book on an unwieldy and heavy Triumph Tiger, I told myself that if Iever did another motorcycle adventure through uncertain andpotholed terrain, I would aim low and buy the sort of bike thatpeople use to buzz through the streets of most African cities. WhenId planned a trip through Ghana, this Royal was just the type ofbike I had in mind. There really isnt any good reason not to buyit from this guy, especially as every other moto outlet in the areais selling the same bike for 40 per cent more. I decide to closethe deal before he realises he might have made a mistake on thesale price.

I exchange 500 in sterling forGhana cedis (pronounced seedys) at a local forex office and handover the thick wad of notes. He counts it out then hands me thekeys to the bike, a Royal helmet and a Royal polo shirt. Perhapshes expecting me to advertise the brand wherever I go.

I dont need the helmet, thanks,I say. I have my own.

He picks up my helmet and comparesthe quality.

He reads the logo off the front,Box. Your helmet is more powerful.

Then he hands me back thirtycedis.

I will sell the helmet to someoneon the street, he says. Is OK. Come back tomorrow forregistration. It will be ready. But for now you may take the bikewithout the number. If you are stop, tell the police to come forme. Ha!

I jump on the little Royal withPrince on pillion, who directs me back to his home in the cityswestern district of Kaneshie. The ride is a chance to getacquainted with Accra, a frantic, choking city of two million soulssweltering under a tropical sun on the Gulf of Guinea.

Accra thoroughfares are like thehardening arteries of a terminal patient: where there is tarmac thestreets become race tracks, but where there is none vehicles getlost under a blanket of dust; where there are potholes, the trafficsplays out in all directions like blood looking for the path ofleast resistance. Point duty policemen act like occasionalanticoagulants but its only a matter of time before this beastkeels over.

InAfrican terms Accra is a successful and sophisticated metropolis.Boasting a few high-rise buildings and tall residential blocks, itis the city in which many western companies that do business inWest Africa prefer to base themselves. However, the firstimpressions that hit the European visitor in June 2010 are thefume-belching trucks and battered taxis cutting through a freneticsideshow of street hawkers selling World Cup memorabilia andcounterfeit watches, elderly vendors with fruit on their heads, andstalls and shops that colonise the street. The pavements teem withold men and women wearing dusty robes for coolness, while youngermen sweat in western clothes and girls wear tight-fitting topsshowing acres of satiny flesh. Given the crowded metropolis,perhaps it is appropriate that Accra is derived from nkran, the Akan word for black ants.

Also evident is the politeness andwarmth of everyone I have met so far, including my hosts, despitetheir clammy devotion to me. From the airport immigration officialwho questioned my entry because I did not have a destinationaddress (Im going everywhere!), to people trying to sell me afridge (It is cold!), the default attitude in the city is one ofunfailing courtesy. Buying breakfast, hailing a taxi, passingpeople on the street are all forms of well-mannered entertainment.Even when I had to abandon my airport taxi on arrival because thedriver was arrested by a police officer for a minor infringement, Iwas astonished by the respectful interaction between the arrestorand arrestee. The courtesy is laced with a guileless charm and apersistent declaration of their Christian faith. For I know ofnowhere in the world where God is invoked so often and in the mostmundane circumstances, such as getting into a taxi (Bless you)and getting out again (God is good), or buying a Coke (Beholy). This extends to store fronts, which have such pious namesas Amazing Grace womens fashions, the What Is Written Is Writtenfitting shop, and the God Is Graceful barbering service. Otherenterprises have refreshingly literal names like the Good BedHotel, the Patience to All tyre and battery replacement outlet, andthe Lovers Barbering Centre.