Day 7 – Scott

1st July 2017 Off By Mr Casey

The day started in the same fashion as all the rest, an early start with something interesting waiting for us at breakfast. The two groups went about their days work, either teaching or doing manual labour at the two local schools under the unrelenting Ghanaian sun.

The activity for the afternoon was a trip to experience the local market which comes to town every five days, and an experience it certainly was. The narrow streets of makeshift stalls selling mostly eye-catching fabrics and absolutely honking fish, the nearby open sewers contributing to the type of nasal assault that only an African market-place could give. The only stall really gaining from our visit was the one selling knock-off Black Stars football shirts. We were in groups to travel to the market as the bus can only carry 11 people plus Paul in the drivers seat. I was in the first group of Hamilton Grammar pupils to go and return, the second groups return was heard before it was seen as chants of “TATTOO” rang out as they made their approach, with Ross Murdoch leading the not so angry mob with his right arm raised in the air like he was leading a people’s revolution. He hurriedly made his way to Mr Casey, declaring proudly “Ah got a tattoo”. Mr Casey froze with shock, his face a picture of stunned disbelief. This quickly diffused into a wide grin and laughter when he saw that the tattoo was nothing more than “GHANA” stricken in biro down his forearm. Panic over.

After the afternoon activity I joined the local boys in the most exhausting and frantic game of football I have and will ever partake in; barely being able to run with the ball for a second without everyone piling into you in a blur of sand and flailing legs with the aim of getting the ball through the two exotic trees designated as goals.

The nights have gotten progressively quieter over our stay as the effects of fatigue set in, with most people being in bed-bound come half nine. With this one winding down in the same fashion with Straun having to be near dragged away from his own private project of the week.