Janyn and I have planned a
busy day. There is much to pack into the
few short days she has here. “I think we
should take a taxi.” Janyn quickly agrees.
Taxi’s are cheap. TroTro’s are
more fun. In the end taxi’s are more
efficient and save time. Our backpacks
are loaded with water, nuts and other essentials.
We are on our way. Matthew, the security guard, greets us and opens the gate. We walk down the dirt road and within seconds we flag a taxi, negotiate the price and are headed to Independence Square, also known as Black Star Square, in the heart of the city.


We are headed to the Nkrumah
Memorial site about a mile down the road when two Ghanaians standing outside
the Cultural Arts Center stop us. The
title of this center is a bit misleading as it is actually a place where
artisans gather to sell crafts. They
want to give us a drumming lesson. I
explain we are not there to buy. We are
on our way to the memorial site. Of
course, that is ok with them. They know
if they can get us there, we will buy something. I am impressed by the marketing technique
they use. Many in Ghana will give you an
experience, not just ask for a sale. It
is clever and it works. I’m teaching
marketing in Ghana and there is always something I can learn.
I design a
custom bowl with two symbols representing independence and transformation along
with my Ghanaian name etched on it.

I find Janyn in another shop
negotiating a price for a pair of Ghanaian pants. She makes the purchase and we are on our way,
a few cedi’s less than when we started, but well worth the money and the time
spent.
It has beautiful sculptures
sitting in two pools of water with a path between them leading to Nkrumah’s
Mausoleum, where he and his second wife are buried.
We walk up into the gravesite
and I think about this man. A leader who
took the country to independence, who was imprisoned in his early years because
of his beliefs, but in the end let his ego stand in the way of greatness. I wonder, did he die a broken man? Was he angry in the end? Or, did he accept his fate with dignity? I don't have the answers to these questions, but there is one more: Does he now know that the people of Ghana accepted him back and gave him what is considered by many as a proper burial site?
A testament to his downfall is just a few
feet from this site. It is a statue of
him. His body to one side and his head
on the other, destroyed during the 1966 military coups d’état.
We walk through the
mausoleum and to the museum steps. There
is a Ghanaian taking pictures of other Ghanaians. Janyn says, “Would you like me to take a
picture of all of you together”. They
respond, “No, he isn’t with us. He is
taking our picture. Come over hear and
take a picture with us”. Huh? Really?
Alright! They are beautifully
dressed and we stand next to them, backpacks, shorts and t-shirts; strangers bonding for one quick picture. Turn-about is fair-play and so we ask them to
use our camera for a picture of them. We are a novelty and I accept that.
It is a small museum. We walk through the timeline of Nkrumah’s
life and then move on to see the artifacts, his furniture is at one end of the
room and traditional clothing at the other end. Pictures are not allowed. There are gifts he was given and pictures on the walls.
After an hour we were off
again. We need to fit in two stores and
buy something for dinner. We catch a
taxi back into Osu and go to Global Mama’s, a fair trade store for artisans.
Again we
risked our lives to cross the street to go to Trashy Bags, a store that
recycles old billboard material, used water bags and other discarded trash to
make, among other things, purses, computer bags, wallets, reusable grocery
bags.
And now it’s time to get
back to why I’m here. We return home,
just in time to change and catch a taxi to Webster to teach my Management
Class.
We get home that night after 10:00
p.m. knowing tomorrow will be another early start, but not knowing this will be
one of the most interesting and memorable days here in Ghana.