A Krazy time. So Krazy it's spelled with a 'K'. Woah.

Coneechiwa.

I have just got home from a crazy (sorry, Krazy) day. Well, eventful anyway. However, before getting to that, the week in review:

Monday: Did Stuff. Had a lesson probably. Went to Afotey's rehearsal. All is well. Quiet is good.

Tuesday: Went into Accra to get all my stuff. Previously, my plan has been to put off buying 'things' (presents, souvenirs, clothes, etc.) for myself until just before I leave. The reasoning behind this had to do with the possibility that I might run out of money and should spend it on essentials, rather than shiny things. However, I have recently realised that I have enough money for essentials and that the extra spending that might cause me to run out of money would consist of giving to Ghanaians. So, basically, my original plan involved me going without buying the presents for others and things I wanted to take home from Ghana so as to (in a ridiculously short-term manner) subsidise people here.

Obviously, while perhaps being 'noble', this makes no sense. So, I decided to get all my stuff now so that when I run out of money it means I just can't give any more, not that I don't buy the things I want. No, Need. In addition to this, I decided to get all the money out of the bank that I have budgeted for spending, so as to not keep dipping into the savings meant to buy the things I need when I get back to Australia (computer, Uni books, hats, etc.). That is, when my pile o' cash is gone, it's gone.

So, on Tuesday, I attemped to carry out my plan.

Here's the condensed version:

My first place of interest was Makola market where I had to get stuff. Then we had lunch. Then I went to the fetish market to get some seeds. Then back to Makola. Then to the Arts centre market. By this time the bank was closed so my plan to draw out all my money was foiled (I have recently been informed that it costs way more [like, $150 per 400GHS withdrawn] to use an ATM than to go into the bank and withdraw money, so I want to do it that way). Then I went to look for Ablo (who's fixing my Ngoni [and who teaches me]) who lives in the Arts centre. At his house I didn't find him but I found a few of his friends who were practising, so we sat there and watched for a while. Then it was dark. Then home.

In conclusion, I got most of my stuff done that day, except for a few specific items and my money, which I would have to go back another time for. Of course, this is Ghana and my plan to efficiently do everything in one fell swoop was somewhat naive. So, Tuesday was a good day which involved an early start, an awful lot of walking in HEAT and a little bit of retail therapy.

By the way, I have photos of this - they're coming, I can't be bothered doing it now.

Wednesday: Stayed in Nungua - I had arranged for Adjetey and Theofo to do a joint lesson (Adjetey is a dancer and I recorded him dancing for some of the rhythms that I had learned from Theofo) and had a lesson and rehearsal with Afotey. On the way home some guy tried to marry me to his sister when I was waiting to buy kelewele (fried plantain with spices and stuff. Rearry dericious.). That was nice.

Thursday (today): I tried to resume my plan. I was going to go into the bank, get my money, go to the Arts Centre and find Ablo and then buy the last of my things (with Theofo). That sort of happened, but not quite.

First, we started out later than I had planned - I was meant to have an 8.00 lesson with Theofo and then we would leave at 9.00 or so. Somehow, I forgot to set my alarm and didn't wake up until about 10. So we skipped the lesson and left for town at about 11.

When we got to the bank, I went to the window, gave them my card and then started blankly at the teller when he asked for my passport. I hadn't even thought to bring it and even after offering my driver's license, student ID and telling him that my passport was at the embassy and I couldn't get it for a week and had no money, the guy didn't budge. So, my options were to just give up and go home or to not give up but to go home, get my passport and come back. The round trip takes a couple of hours and isn't particularly fun, but I figured I would see how long it took to get home and decide once I got there. As I had some small money on me, I decided to get some of the other things on my list out of the way before heading back to Nungua, so as to not make the trip a complete waste of time. So, I went to the Arts Centre, found Ablo, gave him money to get a bag for my ngoni made and gave Theofo money to go and find some beads. Then I had a coconut, which was delicious.

After this, we went to Labadi to a gallery to get some very special material for my mother. Then we went home.

By the time we got home, it was about 3.15. As the banks close at 5.00, I figured we would have enough time to get back to the bank by 4.30 or so and could get my money and get the remaining couple of things on my list. Additionally, Jane was leaving for Holland at 11.30 that night, so I was going to meet her at the airport at 8.00 or so, when we'd finished. We headed back into town.

In a nail-biting race against the clock, Theofo and I cursed the heat and the constantly-stopping tro-tro all the way into town. Somehow, we managed to get into the tro-tro station at about 4.20. I figured this would get us to the bank by about 4.30 and we would have just enough time to complete what I had heard was a time-consuming transaction process. So, we power-walked to the bank, arriving at 4.31.

The bank closed at 4.30.

Awesome. As I was banking (HA!) on getting money from the bank, I had earlier spent most of my money. So I now don't have an awful (or good, for that matter) lot left.

So, after 10 minutes or so of pacing back and forth trying to work out a magic solution, we gave up. Our new plan was to just go back to the tro-tro station, catch one to Labadi and wait there (and drink and eat) until it was time to meet Jane at the airport. So we did. We were walking more slowly this time.

We found a tro-tro and hopped in. Unfortunately, the mate (the driver's assistant who tells him when to stop and start and takes the money, etc.) was being a foolish boy and trying to cram far more people into the tro-tro that could actually fit. As we were already cranky, Theofo spoke up and had a go at the mate. The mate, who was a small boy and should have more respect, then mouthed off at Theofo who got angrier. Then some other people fired up a bit (all talking in Ga, so I don't really know what was being said, although I kinda do). Eventually I calmed Theofo down (told him not to worry and pull his head in) and the crammed bus set on its way. Theofo spent the whole way brooding and sulking, I figured I'd leave him and try and calm him down once we got off. However, as soon as we got down in Labadi, the mate said something and Theofo lunged at him and started trying to 'deal him blows'. I grabbed Theofo in an impromptu headlock-sort-of-thing and held his arms (after which he tried to headbutt the guy, which was pretty funny) until he calmed down. Really, the situation was pretty understandable - here, you respect your elders or they beat you. So, this kid (probably 18 or so) was mouthing off and got what he deserved. However, I quite firmly explained to Theofo that all it takes is one dodgy policeman to see a white man near a fight and that white man could be in a spot of legal trouble. I think I said it in those words...

We then went and had a drink. Then got food. The food was good - Theofo took me to a place that serves grasscutter (which is kind of like a big rat). As I said, good. Jane then called and said she was on her way to the airport, so we left to meet her there. There could be more story here, but I can't be bothered so I'll cut to the interesting bit.

While waiting for the time at which she had to go and wait in a special go-and-waiting area, we (Jane, Theofo, Kwame [you don't know him] and me) sat waiting in the spot/chop bar near the restaurant. That place must make a killing because everything is about 20x the normal price. Anyway, a nice young lady friend came up and started talking to Theofo, then to Kwame and eventually ended up sitting beside me. She was friendly. I knew this because she said she wanted to be my friend. I thought this was lovely. She was very pretty too with nice fishnet stockings and makeup that had been applied in the taxi on the way there, I think. A few of her good lines include "I just want to be your friend, not anything more than that", "I want to do everything with you, just like a sister, nothing more" which then got altered to "Well, maybe about 90% of everything". I asked her whether brushing my teeth was included in the 90%? How about haircuts? She looked confused.

After 30 or 40 minutes of me switching between ignoring her and asking questions about where she's from and where she went to school (which received completely mixed, changing and contradictory answers - I kept asking though because I didn't want to be rude) I used my awesome eyebrow communication skills to convince our group that it was time to go and see Jane off. My new friend (Jessica) decided she'd follow and see Jane off too. Indeed, when the time came to say goodbye, she got a little bit teary. Such a dericate frower, my new friend Jessica.

After this, Theofo and I had to work out how to get home. It was about 10.50. Jessica was staying disturbingly close behind and kept trying to whisper things in my ear. Unfortunately for both of us, her method of whispering involved putting her ear next to my ear, which meant that she was whispering behind my head, where I, or most other humans I believe, don't have ears. However, while I couldn't discern the specifics, I had a fair idea what she might have been saying. Perhaps so do you.

Anyhow, we organised a taxi to get to 37 (a suburb of Accra), from where we were hoping to catch a tro-tro to Nungua (home). Jessica thought that she might join in on the taxi fun as well. Even after I firmly told her than I had to go, she had to stay and she was not getting in the taxi, she ended up getting in the taxi. She said something about how she just wanted to get dropped off at Circle (another area of Accra) and Theofo felt sorry/in love for her (and was enjoying watching my situation). Even after my pointing out that our taxi to 37 wouldn't go near Circle, she still ended up in the front seat, staring at me in the mirror. I moved my head to the side a bit.

So, we then ended up in 37 and, surprise, she hadn't been dropped off anywhere. And she was following us. At this time of night (11 or so), tro-tros to Nungua had stopped running (really, this probably wasn't too bad a thing - I couldn't have stopped her from getting on a tro-tro if she wanted). So we had to organise a cab. Throughout this whole affair, Theofo and I were teasing each other amidst my trying to explain to him that he couldn't afford her and should just keep his mouth and pants shut. I think I said something along the lines of "If you want her to come, you can pay for the taxi". This worked.

After finding our taxi driver and firmly (again) explaining that she was not coming with us and no, I would not give her my phone number, I then had to forcibly eject her from the taxi and lock the doors. This was slightly sad because it meant she was probably stranded in 37 (the middle of nowhere) late at night, possibly with no money (although she did say that she was going to pay for some of the taxi fare and had bought drinks at the spot earlier) and was saying "Oh, Jacob!" in her most hurt and distressed voice.

But, that's what you get for being a pushy whore.

Finally, Theofo and I spent the whole way home alternating between laughing and teasing each other and feeling a bit sad and sorry for this girl - she was sad and pretty. Just like in Pretty Woman.

Except not.

Eventually, laughing and teasing won and we forgot to feel sad.

On another note, the taxi driver told us a story though about another taxi driver who picked up some girl late at night, was not married and decided he wanted to marry her. He formed a relationship with her over a few weeks... but only at night... Then, after he went to her house one day, during the day, to find her, he couldn't. So he rang up a spiritual adviser at Hot FM (I've heard radio spiritual advisers are a couple of steps above agony aunts) who informed him that the lady was a ghost, had stolen his spirit while they were rooting and that he would die within 2 months. Apparently he died in 2 weeks.

True story.

Goodnight, sweet dreams.