By Skylar DeBose
It was the morning of Sunday, July 27. I woke up ready to climb the tallest mountain in Ghana. Just 24 hours earlier, our bus driver, Clement, drove us five hours northeast from East Legon, Accra, to the Volta Region. The night before our journey to Volta commenced, I struggled to sleep as chills, body aches, and an uneasy stomach overcame my body. As someone who easily overheats in my sleep, I knew something was awry when the AC failed to send me into a deep slumber.
At around 1 a.m., I walked into the kitchen for one of my favorite snacks, Mott’s. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I refused to upset my stomach further by taking extra-strength Tylenol on an empty stomach. Thankfully, the 500 milligrams of acetaminophen put me to sleep until I groggily woke up to my 5:15 a.m. alarm. I quickly felt the medicine wearing off as I packed my last few essentials and got ready for the long, bumpy bus ride. Despite feeling uneasy, I refused to miss what many Media in Ghana alumni claim to be the best weekend trip of the program.
At a quarter to six, I made my way to the bus to secure a single seat near the front. In the early minutes of our journey, I felt my stomach wince from pain. I quietly begged for the aches to fade away, at least until we arrived at our hotel in Volta. As we waited in traffic in the bustling streets of Accra, women with baskets atop their heads sold random essentials. My eyes were immediately drawn to bofrot, a sweet, fried dough that many Ghanaians eat for breakfast. Our professor, Senyo, seemed to read my mind as he looked directly at me and asked, “Do you want bofrot?” I immediately smiled and nodded as my stomach looked at me in disbelief. Once again, my cravings defeated my rationale. As I ate the bofrot, my stomach pains slowly faded away. Who knew bofrot would be a cure for uneasy stomachs?
After another long drive, my peers and I were happy to arrive at our hotel. After lunch, we were tasked to figure out our rooms. Somehow, by quietly observing room debates, I ended up getting one of two singles for the night. Not only would I have a king-size bed to myself, but I would be furthest from the sounds of an eight-hour concert that kept many of my peers up that night. Before Saturday night, having a nightclub adjacent to my hotel would have sounded like a dream come true. Yet this dream quickly turned into a nightmare for many of my peers.
After a long day of driving, walking, and swimming in my new favorite waterfall, I was grateful to my body for cooperating and allowing me to enjoy the day’s activities to the fullest extent. I realized I spoke too soon when, at dinner, I felt my body demand that I push no further. After finishing my meal, I said goodnight to my friends and headed to bed.
The next morning, I felt guilty for comfortably sleeping throughout the night as many people in our cohort lost a sleepy battle with the booms of the six-hour concert. As much of our bodies begged for more sleep, we refused, as our schedule was packed from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Our first journey for the day was a hike up Mount Afadja. With the help of more Tylenol and plenty of Pepto, my mind successfully tricked my body into feeling normal again. As someone who loves a good hike with lush scenery, I was eager to get my steps in.
After some dynamic stretching and a bathroom break, eight of us joined our tour guide for a hike none of us were ready for. I quickly learned that I had underestimated the hike’s difficulty. My coworkers warned me that many Ghanaians skip the hike and watch tourists regret their decision from the comfort of the bottom, but I was fixated on the fact that it was just 45 minutes. “Pssshhttt… 45 minutes? Easy work.” Yet this wasn’t some 45-minute stroll; this was a 45-minute incline, straight up, to the highest peak in Ghana. As my Achilles began to ache from discomfort, I regretted wearing my staple shoes, Black Converse Run Star trainers. My regrets heightened as I pictured my running shoes in my apartment closet, five hours away.
If it weren’t for my competitive spirit or the determination of my peers, I would have quickly turned around. Our tour guide, who wore open-back sandals and climbed the mountain 3x a day, looked above us with subtle disbelief each time we stopped to catch our breaths. We might have taken many breaks, but we refused to give up.
As we got closer to the peak, the views got prettier and our feet got heavier. Halfway… almost there… so close. After 44 minutes and 10 seconds of fighting with elevation, we reached Ghana’s peak.
My feelings of regret quickly faded as the views made it all the worth. I felt back home, surrounded by trees, seeing nothing but green.