Dan Lawton : Journalist

Accra, Ghana — In Osu, Accra’s major nightlife district, the relationship between Western tourists and Ghanaians is based primarily on cash.  The streets are peppered with a number of upscale restaurants, supermarkets and nightclubs that cater to tourists.  On the sidewalks vendors sell every souvenir under the sun.  The major commodity is crafts.  Necklaces, drums, paintings, t-shirts and bracelets are the  wares of the beguiling  hawkers who pursue every white man or woman in sight.

Sometimes, even those adamant about not making impulse purchases will find themselves in a tough spot.  My first week I naively gave my name to a friendly  teenager outside of a restaurant.  When I came out an hour later, he was waiting with a bracelet engraved with my name and an outrageously high asking price.

Though such ploys are rare, it’s difficult to walk more than 100 meters without someone pleading for you to purchase something.  The high-pressure sales create pocket money for many impoverished street vendors, but are responsible for the attitude of standoffish anxiety that many tourists adopt toward Ghanaian craft vendors.  Osu and other high trafficked areas can feel like a minefield.  Every step and another vendor greets you heartily, professes to be your friend and then unabashedly demands that you buy a drum.

However, if you have the stamina to withstand their initial overtures, some of the craft vendors in Osu are great friends to have.  Early in my trip I bought a necklace from a young man named Baba. It was during a strange, chaotic moment in which I came tumbling out of a bar and was immediately lunged upon by a horde of taxi drivers and merchants. A drunk man made a vaguely derogatory comment toward me while grabbing my pectoral muscles and I began to get very irritated very fast.  I spun away from the crowd angrily and as I was trailing off Baba chased me down.

Baba flexes post pull up contest

Stricken by polio at a young age, Baba traverses Osu in a wheelchair while selling necklaces.  I had half-heartedly promised earlier that night that I would buy something from him and he had waited outside of the bar for me for at least two hours.  For some reason–probably a combination of my new penchant for jewelry and his laid back demeanor–I shelled out a few bucks for a new accessory.  On the way back, I watched as Baba expertly bobbed and weaved his wheelchair through the sea of cars and taxis on the street.  It took me weeks to be comfortable navigating many of Accra’s roads as a pedestrian and watching him perform such a dangerous slalom so routinely was jarring.

So, the next day I went back to Osu, not to buy another necklace but to kick it with Baba and his friends who all welcomed me heartily.  A close-knit group of about 14, they arrived in Accra from all over West Africa and are all either musicians and artists.  Most of them sleep either in their small craft shacks or simply on mattresses on the ground in a vacant lot.  Within a day or so, we were jamming out on the drums, sharing meals, drinking beer and occasionally having pull up competitions in the dark.  Most importantly, no one was asking me to buy anything.

The point is that in a country like Ghana your relationships with locals will only be defined by money if you allow them to.  If you keep your eyes down and brush past every street vendor with silent trepidation, you’ll always be a dollar sign.  But, if you make the effort to move past the hawker/tourist dance and get to know the people behind the wares, you’ll quickly realize that they’ve got plenty to offer besides hip-looking necklaces. Although, I will admit, my jewelry collection has become embarrassingly ornate.