“White man! Are you going to see the crocodiles?”

I’ve heard this phrase a number of times walking around in Paga, and on Sunday I became that tourist that many people thought me to be. Another volunteer came and visited with her host brother from Zuarungu, near Bolga, the place I was originally supposed to be living. We hit the 3 tourist destinations and contributed to the local economy by visiting the old slave camp, the crocodile pond, and some older style buildings with artifacts from a time long since past.

I’m hoping this post gives the pics I previously posted a little context.

The slave camp wasn’t what I expected, but then again basically everything has been different from what I expected since I landed in Accra. The site was very rocky which I found odd in this flat landscape, and dates back to the 18^th century but peaked in the 19th when slave raiders would send their captives from areas where Mali and Burkina-Faso are now found on the way to Cape Coast to be shipped off to the Americas. The guy, who worked there, our guide, said the slave camp was like a hub where African Slave owners would sell their slaves who would then be forced to walk to the coast. Although slavery was found in Africa and elsewhere before Columbus and colonialism, it never reached such severe levels and millions were rounded up to meet the high numbers demanded by Europeans to be sent to the plantations and mines of the Americas.

After leaving the slave camp the three of us traveled on a single moto to the Chief’s Pool Crocodile Pond! I don’t know too much about this place except that it’s an eco-tourism spot and some of the crocodiles are very old. Now, some of you might not agree with this next part, and to me it didn’t seem too ethical, but who am I to make that judgment. We bought a “sacrificial chicken” which they lure the crocodiles out with and then feed to them. I don’t know if I’m just trying to justify this or not, but the chickens are going to die either by knife and then end up cooked in my bowl, or down a croc’s throat, basically they have no chance. Anyways, an older guy working there was really friendly and informative and could tell you the name of each croc and the crocs actually listened to him, and when he assertively snapped at them, they stopped moving. We had a lot of fun and snapped some good pics of the crocs, us on the crocs, and yes the feeding (which will be showed upon request only):

Finally, across the road we went to see some small buildings that are characteristic of an old village with the friendly guide (sorry I’m horrible with local names, but I’ll be visiting this guy again so stay tuned). He showed us the old mud and dung huts with about a foot and half sunken in roof were people slept when it was too hot and also hid from slave raiders. You could access the roof with a wooden carved latter. We went inside and he showed us some pretty old looking artifacts, good ‘ol archeology! Then ended the short tour by showing us some good looking locally made tourist-type gifts like wallets, jewelry, cloth, all hand made which will end up in some of your hands when I return. Here's fun one: