From the land of coconuts

Once upon a fine afternoon in Western Region, Vido asked Lindsey and me if we would like to visit a fishing village to watch the fisherman going out to sea. Vido, the entrepreneur we were staying with, lives in Bonyere, which is a village along the Western coast of Ghana. In these coastal towns, most people have one of two jobs: coconut farming or fishing. Lindsey and I are usually up for anything so of course we agreed.

And so we found ourselves around 4:30 pm on our way. We turned off of the main paved road and started down a very bumpy and dusty red-dirt road. The road snaked through forests and forests of tall coconut trees; I’ve never seen so many in my life. And after 15 minutes we arrived in the village.

It was not quite like anything I’d ever seen before. The houses in the town lined the shore, all made out of coconut palm leaves. The walls where either palm leaves woven together or stems bound side-by-side. In many of the houses there were women smoking fish or cooking the evening meal for the families. And there were children running around everywhere, of all ages, calling to us, waving to us, and following our every movement.

Vido wanted to show us his friend’s boat and so we crossed through the band of houses on the beach. I should explain exactly house they go about fishing. The boats are 15 metres long and 3 metres wide. Each boat has an owner, a manager, and a team of about eight to 15 boys. Around 5 pm each day, the team of boys prepares the boat and ventures out to sea. They throw their nets and sleep, and in the morning they load the catch into the boats and return back to shore by around 7 am.

And so we were lucky enough to be there just as the boats were leaving for the sea. They lined the beach, each one resting on three big tree trunks. The teams are very proud of their boats and have them decorated and painted with lots of flags and designs. Some boats even have uniforms! We saw one team all wearing matching Chelsea uniforms, blue shorts and blue and white toques!

Our team had eight boys, and we watched them load the supplies they would need for the night. Once it was loaded, the team used the tree trunks to roll the boat towards the water. When the boat was in, they added the out-board motor (too heavy to add before the pushing) and away they went.

But it was not so easy. The waves are very dangerous around the village, especially at that time of day. This is the most dangerous part of the fisherman’s trek. The boats need to get past the place where the waves break before they will be safe.

As the boat moved into the water, the people who were walking by stopped to watch the journey. The owner and manager of our boat stood around with us and the other passers-by, hoping the boat would be ok. Everyone watched in silence as the boys passed further and further away from the shore. You could feel the tension as the boat rocked back and forth, as Lindsey said, looking like the Upside-down Ship from Canada’s Wonderland.

And then, after what seemed like an eternity to me, they made it past the break. And life on the beach went on. As if nothing had happened, the people that had been frozen moved to life again, continuing on their way. Only the manager and the owner exchanged a small smile and returned to the hustle and bustle of the village.

But for the boys on the boat, it was a great feat. You could see them jumping, singing, clapping; celebrating that they had made it, for one more day, safely out to sea.