“I would give you a tour, but I don’t feel well.”

Last weekend (July 18-20) I traveled to Kumasi for two nights. Kumasi is the second largest city in Ghana with a population of about one and a half million; it was an adventurous weekend full of what could only be described as “independent travel.” I spent most of it in transit—the 6 hour bus ride each way from Accra, many Tro-tro rides exploring the local villages, or on foot endlessly roaming the city and market in hopes of finding something (anything!) mentioned in the guide book.

I’ve really loved my travels throughout Ghana, but I don’t believe the country is in any way near the “tourism renaissance” you might read about leafing through travel magazines. I was lured to Kumasi because it is the capital of the Asante (Ashanti) region and serves as a good base for visits into the surrounding villages where the crafts of kente cloth and kente stools originated. The Asante people with their kings, queen mothers, many crafts, traditional shrines and various mythologies represent an African tribe well-known throughout the world. The kente cloth is a symbol of African heritage and a source of pride for people around the globe. The kente made in the Asante region (it is also made elsewhere like the Volta region of Ghana but with more muted colors) is characterized by bright colors and various geometric patterns, originally made to be worn by kings, but has since broadened its use to be worn by men and women alike at all sort of special occasions. White cloth with black designs and smaller strips of color is for weddings and other celebratory occasions; black and red kente is worn for funerals. Colors traditionally representing royalty (as far as I could gather from my haphazard visit to the Manhyia Palace in Kumasi) are gold, green and black. I was hoping to learn more about kente cloth and all things traditional Asante…but was once again caught randomly meandering around clutching my Bradt Travel Guide and wondering why nothing ever turned out as easy as the authors of “Bradt” make it seem.

My destination was Adanwomase described in Bradt as “a peaceful little village” with a “promising new community-based tourism venture with the Peace Corps.” I was so excited for the “fascinating” tours! I was thrilled to learn about the Asante people, the kente cloth and the workings of the local economy! According to the Bradt guide, Adanwomase can be “easily reached in a tro-tro direct from Kumasi’s Kejetia Lorry Station.” I guess this is technically true…but what Bradt forgets to mention is that the Kejetia Lorry Station is a chaotic mess of honking vehicles the size of about 4 square city blocks. It took me almost 40 minutes to locate the correct tro-tro during which I asked no less than 10 people which tro-tro was headed to Adonwomase. After much confusion and fingers pointing me in every direction, I found a friendly young man who offered to bring me to the correct tro-tro. After about 15 minutes of us walking around while he asked person after person with many more fingers pointing this way and that (I actually liked this because it validated my method of finding the tro-tro), he found the correct vehicle, I thanked him profusely and hopped on. After another 20 minutes waiting for passengers to board (tro-tros do not budge with empty seats), we were on our way and I was brimming with excitement in anticipation of some “friendly cultural tourism!”

The tro-tro dropped me off directly in front of a tiny hut, which serves as the visitors’ center for Adanwomase. There was a very friendly woman who gave me a binder filled with all the fun options for tours, food and even home stays. I signed myself up for two hour-long tours and handed her back the binder. At that point a Ghanaian man walks in and sits behind the desk. I run up to him, introduce myself, tell him how excited I am about the tours and ask him if it’s OK that it’s just me. He says, “Yes, that’s fine. Now sit down!” After scampering back to my seat, I say, “Are you the tour guide?” to which he responds, “Yes.” After that a typical Ghanaian silence lasted for a seemingly interminable period while I pretended to look for something in my bag and then just stared at my shoes for a bit. Then he says, “You see…I am the tour guide…and I would give you a tour, but I don’t feel well.” I gave him a completely desperate look and said, “You don’t feel well?...Are you the only tour guide?...So…you’re going to go home and rest?” To which he replied, “I don’t feel well. I am the only tour guide, but I can’t be walking you around the town when I feel sick. Yes, I need to rest.” “Well…I hope you feel better!” I said hoping that maybe he would feel better immediately (he looked fine) and then could give me my proper tour. Alas, he did not, but rather left me with the directives that the kente cloth weavers were, “Over there!”

Usually I’m not such a fanatic about guided tours, but Ghana is different enough for me that a guide of any sort would be nice. I wandered around enough for the past six weeks to last me a very long time. I should mention that I did end up having a nice late morning in Adonmowase, The kente weavers were warm and welcoming to a stranger and, of course, I was easily led to nearby stall to buy the final product. At the stall I happened to run into the tour guide again who looked as unsick as when I saw him last time and he gave me a big smile as I wandered out of the stall with two large kente cloths in hand (for which, by the way, I did my best bargaining thus far!). After giving him a big smile and wave, I then boarded a Tro-tro for two more villages, lots more strange encounters and a full day of aimless wandering…