Today is planned as an adventure day, so we braced ourselves
for a day of hiking and fun. We started with a 2-hour bus ride to the base of
Afadjato, or Mount Afadja , which at 885 m (2,904 ft) is the tallest peak
in West Africa . It may not seem much, but the
mountain resembles a tall mound of banku
with very steep sides. The students were chomping at the bit to start climbing,
and literally ran up the first slopes. Me, being older and wiser (plus having a
tender right knee), took off at a slow pace with the intent of showing that the
tortoise ultimately wins the race. I am not sure from what elevation we were
starting, so I guessed 100 m (330 ft), and adjusted my pace accordingly. I was
not counting, however, that one of our older students was going to be even
slower than I was. She is a traditionally built African American woman in her
late 30’s, and was huffing and puffing before we even reached the first
significant slope. But she wanted to climb this peak, so I hung back with her,
teaching her how to set her feet, look for the easiest way, and take judicious
break. In exchange she maintained a constant flow of chatter, telling me about
her life, her goals, and her future plans to marry this Ghanaian man she met
for the first time three weeks ago. She is so quintessential American, so I
have a hard time imagining her pounding fufu
every morning to feed her family, but to each her own.
Little by little we went up the mountain, and when we were
maybe a 100 m from the top met the first of our group, already on his way down.
By the time we made it to the top
everybody had already started down, and my charge was ready to collapse and
die. So we took maybe 15 minutes on the top, took photographs, and she sent a
few snapchat messages to family and friends, proud of the fact that she had
conquered the tallest mountain in West Africa .
Then, of course, came the long way down. This gal has no
sense of balance, so I had to literally direct her every step, provide a shoulder
for her to lean on, and again lend a friendly ear to her never-ending flow of
chatter. By the time we were two thirds of the way down we met Kaleb, who was
the first scout of the rescue party, and who mercifully had remembered to bring
with him extra water. Our arrival to the starting point was received with glee,
because by this time it was 2 pm and everybody was starving.
After a delicious lunch we headed for the Wli waterfall,
where we were going to swim, walk behind the waterfall, and chill. However,
this year there seems to have been a series of very heavy storms in Togo (never
heard off before), and the gentle stream that forms the waterfall had turned
into a raging torrent. We still walked over to the pool under the waterfall,
for about 45 minutes and across a partly flooded series of concrete bridges,
only to stare in awe at the immense power of the water, and the drenching cloud
of spray formed as the water hurled down over a good 50 meters (this is also
the tallest waterfall in West Africa). By the time we got back the sun was
setting, and drenched as we were we gratefully sank into the seats of the bus
for the two-hour return trip.
No comments:
Post a Comment