We woke just before daybreak at 5:00 to the sound of the day beginning in the fishing village a hundred yards north of us up the shore of the lake. There were cockerels crowing, men talking to each other, the splashing of log canoes being prepared for the day's work and a rhythmic pounding which was most likely the women pounding the maize or cassava which forms the staple of their poor diet. It was still dark but I could see a promising glimmer over the lake towards the east. I got up to watch the dawn over the lake. I chose to postpone my shower as there was a 9 inch long millipede patrolling the shower basin that I felt Mandy needed to see.

It was a cloudy morning and I could tell that this was not going to be a spectacular dawn, but sitting on a log down by the lakeside, as the ceaseless night sounds of the crickets and cicadas gradually gave way to the dawn chorus chatter of the waking weaverbirds in the trees above me, and the ten or so fishermen on their log canoes slowly became visible on the mirror lake, one of them singing an ancient african fishing prayer interspersed with an occasional recognisable "God is good! God is good!" for the first time on this trip I truly felt I was in Africa, the cradle of humanity. The light levels gradually increased and I watched intrigued as a group of hornbills briefly swooped low over the water and returned to the forest.

After a while it dawned on me that it was now fully light and I caught the scent of a camel. Highly tuned as I am to the ways of the wild I realised I was being watched by Mandy who had discovered the lodger in the shower and was having a cigarette to recompose herself. "Can you get this THING out of the shower?" she asked. I followed her back to our bungalow, the magic of the morning now gone forever.

At breakfast in the Garden Rest veranda we met three other guests, some lovely volunteer workers taking a weekend break together at Rainbow Garden, Patricia, from Germany, Maria from Sweden, and Theresa from Spain. Maria had been in Ghana for some time and had travelled quite a lot and happily gave us lots of information about the area East of Lake Volta that we planned to visit next. We also discovered that we had to pay for our stay here in Ghanaian Cedis as they could not accept Sterling or cards. This gave us a bit of a problem as the nearest bank, let alone cash point was in Kumasi, 50 kilometers away. Once again we realised how many things we take for granted in the UK. We asked Daniel our waiter if he could order us a taxi and prepared ourselves for a trip to the city, the capital of the Ashanti Region and second biggest city in Ghana.

After about an hour and a half a taxi turned up. We have stopped being amazed, or even concerned by the condition of the cars that are used as taxis here. I have seen cars in much better condition than the one we were climbing into, in scrapyards in the UK. All four windows were fully down and there were no window winders, none of the dashboard instruments worked, the windscreen had two massive cracks running across it and the upholstery, what was left of it had seen better days, to put it mildly! We agreed to pay 50 Cedis for the round trip, including an hour stop in Kumasi. And set off down the bumpy and rutted track to Abono where we could join a better road to Kumasi.

After about an hour's drive we got to Kumasi the driver found an ATM machine at the bus station, Oh my Lord! What a busy place, thankfully he walked with me to the machine and stood and waited, I have never seen so many people in one place. Once I'd got my money he quickly walked us back to the taxi, once inside he asked how long we wanted to stay in Kumasi "We don't" I replied, "Far too busy, and everyone is trying to hustle you!" I was shaking like a leaf. M.

There was, as usual, no misunderstanding Mrs. M's intentions so the taxi turned round and joined the constant traffic jam out of Kumasi. After about a mile a uniformed policeman flagged down our driver, who pretended he had not seen, and continued to drive along with the walking pace of the traffic but the policeman had no intention of being ignored and jumped into the passenger seat and firmly told our driver to pull over to the right and stop. I was closely watching our driver's face in the mirror and was relieved to see that he looked totally relaxed and not at all bothered by what seemed at the time to be a perfectly normal check. The policeman completely ignored us which was also fine by me. Our driver had a short conversation in the local language with the policeman and made a phone call, passing the phone to the policeman and then the tone started to change, voices were raised. The policeman handed the phone back to the driver and grabbed the car keys from the dashboard. The driver grabbed the arm of the policeman and started pleading with him but the copper was in no mood now to be pacified. He was joined by an armed officer and got out of the car with the driver still clinging to his arm. For the first time he acknowledged our presence and told us to get out. "The papers are not in order" He said "I will get you another car"

After a few minutes another cab driver came up to us and asked us where we were going and we transferred to his car, which was, if anything in worse condition than the first. He really did not seem too keen on leaving Kumasi but I suppose he didn't want to argue with the police, and reluctantly refused to go any lower than 30 Cedis which we were in no position to refuse, given the circumstances. We drove off leaving our original driver to his fate.

When we got to the end of the road back in Abono Mandy and I agreed that we did not think this guy's car could make it along the track to Rainbow Garden and decided to walk the two miles through the three villages to the bungalow. It was a long hot walk but there was something to fascinate us around every bend. Walking through the villages was also an interesting experience as we were openly welcomed by some, who called "Akwabaar", "Welcome". Some shouted "Hey! Obruni!" and waved, whilst others studiously ignored us, even when we acknowledged them with a cheery "Good Afternoon" Many of the children joined us and walked with us through each village and one very forlorn little girl opened her little palm and asked Mandy "Money?"……….. What can you do? The poverty is staring you in the face, and that afternoon in the space of about an hour we walked past the homes of perhaps two hundred people scratching a living from the soil and a fished out lake. The question remains unanswered in our minds.

Back at Rainbow Garden the three house boys, Daniel, Little Kwame and Eric were industriously building a bonfire down by the lake and told us that we were going to have drumming and dancing round the fire after dinner. That sounded like fun. We watched as the three German ladies were brought back to shore by three fishermen who had taken them out on their canoes. Mandy and I and the three volunteers were a bit wary of any prolonged exposure to the lake water as we could not be sure that it was not carrying bilherzia, a nasty little parasite which is found here abouts. We also wondered how much of the 20 Cedis each, charged by Rainbow Garden, got back to the villagers.

Dinner has to be ordered an hour in advance to give Daniel time to prepare it. This creates a perfect opportunity for an aperitif and we joined the other six ladies on the veranda for a very pleasant hour watching the night fall and eventually the arrival of a massive tropical rainstorm.

Dinner came and our worse fears were realised, the bonfire was off. But after a brief appearance of the owner, Pappa Kwame and his wife, who came round the tables asking if everyone was having a good time, the three boys gave us a demonstration of African Drumming and Singing on the Veranda. I could leave it at that and all my readers would think "How wonderful! A really cultural experience" Nothing could be further from the truth however. The boys were truly dreadful drummers and they were much better drummers than they were singers! What they lacked in talent however (and they would definitely have made the playbacks in Ghana's Got Talent. You know, the bit where they play back the really awful acts) they made up for in enthusiasm. Boundless, endless, everlasting enthusiasm. Eventually after about 45 minutes of relentless racket they stopped, possibly to discuss which number they were going to perform next but we, the captive audience fought back with rapturous applause and one of the blunt German Grannies told them that they had worn us out and that we could take no more. Fortunately they packed up their drums and we got off to bed.