One day on the beach

Winter is coming, and although it is not cold here as it is back home, my thoughts turn back to warmer days in Ghana.

The only food locally available was from a small restaurant run by a young woman named Sala. She has only a single charcoal stove, and can’t cook food quickly enough.

I wolfed down a hard-boiled egg, some boiled cabbage, onion, and pumpkin for breakfast. There was more of the same for lunch. We were on a parallel line approaching Shama when heavy rain came. We finished the line and ran into Shama towing the gear. The dorsal fin came off during the morning, but the instrument only flipped over once, and that was at high speed during our run in. Apparently at high speed, the weight at the front acts as a brake, and may flip the fish onto its back. Once it starts skipping across the water surface it will continue to do so. 

The data were still good despite the damage to the fish. Kabi has located some wood cut to shape that will be delivered in the morning.

We returned to port and unloaded the boat. As I was paying the boys, an old man came up to me and said he had not eaten and needed some chop money. I demurred, paid the boys and the boat owner. Once again the old man came asking for chop money. I am hungry he said. I too am hungry, I told him. Kabi explained to him that we too were under people, and that our money was not really our own but had to spent only on appropriate things. Oh, he begged, he was hungry. Then I remembered I still had lunch. I climbed into the back of the van, opened my bowl of food, and offered him a hard-boiled egg. He asked what else I had. I showed him the contents. Boiled onion, pumpkin, okra, a garden egg, and some cabbage. This food is too rough for me! he said. He returned the egg. He wanted a cedi. This is the food I am eating! I said. I will not give you a cedi so you can eat better than me. I took back the egg, but now didn’t really want to eat it. A quick, enterprising child held out his hand and I gave it to him. He ran off delighted, pursued by his peers.

The old man who refused my food came by the next morning, saying he would go and come and he would bring me money, so I could eat better too.

I did, actually. Sala had given me the same collection of boiled vegetables (including a whole onion) and eggs. But this time, the boys cooked light soup on the boat. They had brought a charcoal furnace (a hibachi, really), chopped up a fish, and cooked the whole thing on the rolling sea in less than an hour. The soup was explosively hot, but made a nice addition to my egg and boiled vegetables I had, turning it into a stew.