s n a p

[ 16:11 sunday 1 july – number 181 bus between bakewell and sheffield ]

the sun’s shining and the moors stretch to the horizon in all directions, punctuated by limestone crags. i’ve never visited this piece of britain before. for the last couple of days i’ve been staying in the midst of it with mark waddington, who’s running projects in gambia, sierra leone, ghana and camaroon for a charity called village aid. i met mark in the point seven bar in tamale, northern ghana, one night last november and spent a weekend with him, his girlfriend anatu and her son mickey in the mole game reserve.

village aid’s annual meeting took place yesterday in a community hall in bakewell. it was a lively and open-spirited affair, not at all bureaucratic. i have never come across a development organisation so rooted in a single community as is village aid in this small market town. the trustees and members are bound together by a myriad neighbourhood links. from this springs a real sense of shared endeavour.

anatu was there, as was saeed, who runs village aid’s tamale office and whose wedding i attended. it was surreal to be with them again in such different surroundings.

there has been another small miracle. my canon digital camera was stolen from the mandela development centre in tamale back in november. i did not expect to see it again but as i write it is in a bag beside me. someone tried to sell it to a friend of saeed’s a couple of months ago. it still had some of the photos i took at his wedding, which were recognised and word got back to him. after some delicate to-ing and fro-ing he was able to recover it and this afternoon it came back into my hands.

long-term readers may recall that this is not the first time the camera and i have parted company and been improbably reunited. within a couple of hours of acquiring it in 1999 i left it on the underground in london. it was picked up by a group of surfers from perth, australia, who took it on holiday with them to cornwall and handed it in to the lost property office a month later with 25 photos depicting their various exploits and a note wishing me well.

it’s not a particularly good camera and i haven’t exactly looked after it well. but somehow we seem destined to remain together.

: cH

b o o g i

[ 02:15 thursday 21 june – palissy street, shoreditch, london ]

i’m just back from the 333 bar where i spent a couple of hours in enjoyable gyratory motion. this place has more or less become my local. the reason remains a mystery though. the decor is hideous, getting a drink typically involves a ten minute wait and the management prefers to hire djs whose record collections have been harvested exclusively from provincial car-boot sales.

but compared to the uber-self-consciousness of most venues in the area the convincing mediocrity of the 333 is rather comforting. and in consequence it seems to attract a less dreadful crowd. tonight, though, something went awry and the music was actually rather good. initially i assumed it was just a momentary lapse and the usual horrors would resume shortly, but after a few songs i was forced to conclude that a decent dj had slipped through the aesthetic cordon.

the dregs of shoreditch (a category in which i happily count myself) was out in force, parading its arsenal of crazy hair and crazy moves. my tonsure is not at all up to scratch. but to put this in perspective the marx brothers would look low-key round here.

with delight and amazement i espied mr steve emery amidst the throng. we were fellow passengers on a flight from london to sydney in december 1998. it was quite an adventure. bits kept falling off the aircraft and as a result we enjoyed impromptu sojourns in bahrain and singapore. i met steve a couple of times in london after we returned but until tonight i hadn’t seen him for a couple of years. it was a most warm reunion.

earlier in the evening i was working on the sse glasgow film and scanning slides from ghana (i’m up to film 7 of 21). there are a few images in there with which i’m really excited. friends keep telling me i must do something with them and maybe the time’s come when i should try to sort something out. but i’m still not sure what. my friend mr james madelin, in a brief period of unemployment, organised an exhibition of his photographs which i thought very enterprising and admirable.

this afternoon i had my first computer tutorial with michael. i got him one of the new apple ibooks, which i think will suit him well. judging by today’s experience this is going to be far less of a struggle than i anticipated. after a couple of hours he was able to work his way round the operating system. i’d say he picked up the basic concepts a little faster than most children i’ve taught, which must be considered impressive for a man of 85.

shyly he disclosed his objective of visiting tesco’s site and signing up for their online grocery delivery service, which struck me as a charmingly quotidian goal for him of all people. we did not get online today but our next session is booked for friday and i daresay he shall have his groceries.

my earlier outpourings about voting provoked quite a response, mostly critical. i’m grateful to everyone who took the trouble to write and i’m reconsidering some of my more jaundiced attitudes. i thought about publishing a selection of the responses via this list but it struck me that there was probably a better way. maybe i should set up an “open-wanderer” email group where people can post such responses? many of those who read this are able writers with strong minds and diverse opinions. i dunno.

the weekend before last my beloved bicycle was stolen. it was a lovely blue gary fisher hybrid, purchased for me by mr adam allen-foord, my brotherinlaw, back in 1997. it served me faithfully in london and in the isles of scilly. it was chained to the bannisters of the staircase on which i live. i had already taken off all removable parts. but someone sawed through the chain and removed the rest of it. it is just an object but i was quite attached to it and i miss it. oh well, i hope it serves its new owner as well as it served me.

last wednesday the esmee fairbairn charitable trust decided whether they would give sse and circus foundation the funds to undertake our learning web project, which is what i came back to london for. but they haven’t told us yet. it’s a bit nerve-wracking.

: cH

f r a n c h i z

[ 17:59 thursday 7 june – coffee@brick lane, shoreditch, london ]

democracy is being celebrated today, rather as mass is celebrated each sunday by christians. throughout these isles people solemnly attend public buildings, queue at a booth and write an x in one of several squares on a piece of card (using a soft pencil whose colour has carefully been selected). then the card is folded and posted through a slit into a black metal box secured with a great big lock.

this is the third general election in which i have been entitled to vote and the first in which i have chosen not to. perhaps this will also be the last uk general election in which i am free to make such a choice without thereby electing myself a criminal. we shall see.

it would be easy to deplore my choice and point to all the peoples in the world who are fighting for democracy. it must seem ungrateful that we who have achieved it should scorn its exercise. i do sympathise.

last december in ghana i witnessed a poignant moment in the emergence of a democratic society. after 26 years of rule, flight lieutenant jerry john rawlings decided to step down from the presidency.

ghanaians had heard this before. a couple of decades earlier he’d called elections and handed over to a civilian administration only to take power a year later with another coup. people couldn’t quite believe this time would be any different. in the weeks before the election people were growing noticably tense. rumours of army movements began to bubble around. it was an uncertain time.

on election day i was travelling in the remains of a van from the akasombo dam in the east of the country to takoradi in the south-west, where i spent my first night by the ghanaian atlantic. in every village i passed there was a crowd around the polling booth. i stopped for a couple of hours in the capital accra to sample the mood. the air force was making its presence felt and officials were a little more edgy than usual. but the election seemed to be proceeding smoothly.

as the results came in through the following days i was amongst the fishermen of dixcove and jamestown. people hovered anxiously in groups around the few battery-powered radios they possessed following the announcements and calculating the implications. at first it looked as if the opposition was going to wipe out rawlings’ party. a sheepish euphoria began to rise, rather like children who have done something very naughty but are close to getting away with it. then a trickle of contrary results began and the mood changed.

it looked shaky for a day or two but finally it was clear that rawlings’ party and his chosen presidential candidate had been rejected. power had been transferred from one group of people to another by the choice of a large portion of the population. there had been violence and intimidation and fraud but it had been limited. fewer than a hundred people had died.

unmistakably it was democracy. everywhere i went you could see that people were feeling a new pride in their country. ghanaians knew the world had been looking at them, desperate to see some cause for hope in africa. ghana had just done something good.

meanwhile the most powerful society on earth was playing out the most farcical election in its history.

which sort of brings me back to where i was. out in ghana there was a tremendous sense of urgency about voting. back here in britain somehow it just doesn’t feel so important that i go and write an x in a little square.

the proportion of a society which chooses to vote in an election is an indication of the effectiveness of its system of government. it’s a kind of meta-vote, more fundamental than the support expressed for any specific individual or group. i think we should regard the falling levels of participation in elections throughout the ‘developed’ world as a sign of growing democratic maturity and progress. these societies have outgrown their current crude systems and are in the process of evolving to something more sophisticated. but this is not quite how politicians view low turn-out. indeed it is notable that the main pressure to keep participating in the old ritual comes from politicians which has to makes you wonder.

our system differs from feudal monarchies mainly in the provision of a mechanism for people to remove the ruling cadre from time to time. this is a great improvement but it mustn’t blind us to how little else has changed. we still operate a system where a small group of people has a monopoly of authority over a large group of people. the fact that this large group of people is accorded the opportunity to put an x in a square every five years or so does seem a trifle disappointing as the extent of our advancement.

people argue that pre-democratic systems were operated for the benefit of the ruling cadre, whereas modern democracies are operated for the benefit of the whole society. but i suspect this analysis is a little rose-tinted. modern governments are certainly obliged to put more effort into maintaining the appearance of serving wide interests than did their forbears, but i doubt there has been a clear-cut transformation. humans nature hasn’t changed a lot.

it is also notable that just as the franchise was being extended more widely throughout our societies, real power was starting to seep away from governments to industrialists and financiers. what’s left may be little more than a charade, a habit continued for the reassurance it gives us.

of course there is debate about electoral reform. but it restricts itself to changing which small group will take control as a result of your x in the square.

i have not yet encountered a human community which does not to some extent concentrate decision-making authority. hence i find notions of direct participatory democracy, in which everyone is involved in every decision, utopian.

but it is simply not acceptable to bat away criticism of the status quo with this argument. a million other possibilities exist if only we have the courage and imagination to consider them. if we were not so fetishistically attached to our current systems we might not be so blind to alternatives.

i suppose i could have gone and put my x outside any of the squares, or written a short poem or a limerick on the card instead. but whilst the freedom exists to do nothing at all i think it is a purer expression of my democratic opinion.

[ 00:44 friday 7 june – palissy street, shoreditch, london ]

election results and reportage stream in as i write. my desktop is alive with gleeful proclamations of conservative annihilation. in the bbc’s video feed the sombre commentary is punctuated by computer-animated caberets. this is our grand quad/quintannual supplication to the god democracy. the public demands a triumph and a sacrifice.

let us observe what our revolutions and struggles have won for us. this is a game show.

: cH

e o y s t e r

[ 00:29 monday 16 april – bodgriggy street , hayle , cornwall ]

this evening i cycled to gwithian towans and scrambled down the cliff onto the sand . there was hardly anyone around . perhaps a dozen people visible along two miles of beach . earlier in the day i’d been walking with my family at land’s end and the sky was overcast . here it was quite different , a soaring blue mingling with violets and ochres as the sun closed to the horizon .

i felt fully awake for the first time in days , running along the tide line as my shadow grew longer on the firm white sand . the light was gorgeous , my camera gorged itself .

oh it is so hard to leave this place for london .

but of course i must . my main focus at the moment is the recruitment of a software engineer to work for six months on learning web , the partnership established between circus foundation and the school for social entrepreneurs . we need someone experienced in messaging systems , able to manage themselves and highly inventive .

i’m sending out a card with this despatch (you’ll need adobe acrobat reader to open it) . if you know any software engineers who might be interested i’d be very grateful if you could send it in their direction . we need to engage someone in the next couple of weeks .

learning web will be the first practical implementation based on the “trampoline” concepts which i first outlined eighteen months ago in the isles of scilly . i feel frustrated with myself that it has taken so damn long to reach this point . i could scarcely have wished for stronger support from those around me . james smith has patiently championed the project within sse and helped win resources to get it moving . it was he who pressed me to return to london for six months , itself a crucial step . craig mcmillan has provided the discipline of a technical perspective and a genius for drawing coherence from my incoherence . warren langley has helped me steer my thinking from a vision towards a venture .

each day i awaken wondering if i am about to discover that someone else has brought a technology to market which embodies everything i envisaged . it’s horrible . i would rather be completely wrong then be completely right yet too slow . but until one or other of these conclusions becomes manifest i shall plod on as best i can .

my first contact with the school for social entrepreneurs came about in consequence of an interview i read with michael young (lord young of dartington) on a flight to meet kirmo kivela in helsinki back in 1997 . i knew nothing of him prior to this . since getting involved with the school i’ve been able to spend a bit time with him .

while i was in ghana i realised how much i wanted to continue learning from michael (who is now 85) . a couple of weeks ago i finally plucked up the courage to ask if he would agree to be a mentor to me . he agreed on condition that i teach him to use a computer and the internet , which i suspect is going to be a nightmare . but , as warren commented , i still got a good deal !

during my time as a student michael gave me a copy of his first major piece of social research : “family and kinship in east london” , which he wrote in bethnal green during the early fifties . it’s a wonderful book , farsighted in its analysis and overflowing with humanity . michael is currently completing a sequel , looking at the same neighbourhood fifty years later . he’s asked me to contribute a section describing the influx of young information-sector professionals into the area and its impact . it will not be easy to write with clarity about a phenomenon of which i am so conspicuously a part .

as soon as i decided to come and live in london for these six months i decided i would give up smoking pot for the period . i’ve smoked it intermittently since i left cambridge and , dare i say , enjoyed it a lot . the first week of abstinence was not very successful as i kept finding excuses to make exceptions . but after that i’m happy to say it’s been no effort at all . i’ve a sneaking suspicion my libido has expanded to fill the gap , but it’s probably best not to dwell on that …

i’m sitting here in anna and adam’s sitting room typing away by the light of the lamp i had made for their wedding . mum and dad are staying here as well .

happy easter everyone

: cH

n o – g o

[ 20:58 sunday 25 march – gate 4 , glasgow airport , glasgow ]

yes i know . weeks go by with nairy a peep from the wanderer and suddenly here is a slew of despatches .

perhaps it’s documenter’s block . it took a while to re-acclimatise to london and by that time there was such a backlog of things to write about that i didn’t know where to start . so i put it off , and with each passing day the bulk of material grew yet harder to chip into .

it took a completely unforeseen event (becoming imprisoned in glasgow) to break the deadlock . a kind of descriptive enema .

my flight has been called for boarding .

[ 22:56 – stansted express , platform 1c , london stansted airport ]

uneventful flight . i dozed .

i’ve walked about twenty miles today , up in the hills . it was fabulous . after breakfast in the hostel’s dining room , all carved mahogany and baroque plasterwork , i went straight out and found a footpath heading upwards . this is what i’d come for . but it wasn’t long before i hit a gate with notices urging walkers not to proceed any further for fear of spreading foot and mouth .

i stood there for a while , weighing my conscience , before opening the gate and proceeding (it was only a request , after all) . soon i was in open moorland , patched with bracken . the vista over loch lomond and the islands broadened around me . a little snow began to fall . a few sheep were dotted about munching but i didn’t pass near any of them .

over the crest of the hill the path entered pine forest , through which i continued until the trees ended and i found myself looking out over a wide expanse of the firth of clyde . my way was blocked by another gate festooned with warning notices .

again i pondered . i could either turn round and head back the way i’d come . or … looking at my map i could continue down to the firth , walk along to the little town of helensburgh , then follow a road cutting back through the hills to arden on the shore of loch lomond , not far from the hostel .

i hate covering ground over which i’ve already passed . so over the gate i climbed .

a while later the path rejoined a road . i heard a car approaching from behind . it slowed , drew up beside me , the window whirred down . a round-faced lady addressed me from within : “have ye come from bannoch ?” yes i have “did ye not read the notices ?” yes but i though if i kept to the path and avoided contact with any animals it would be alright . she was very angry and she sounded like she was under a lot of pressure . i apologised and promised i would not ignore any more notices . she drove on .

i felt very ashamed of myself . it seemed to be that my behaviour reeked of a kind of urban selfishness i despise . there isn’t a single known case of foot and mouth being spread by walkers who have had no contact with livestock . but that’s not the point .

it was a long walk and my feet were sore by the time i got back to the hostel . i just had time for a bowl of soup before leaving for bannoch to catch the glasgow train .

soon i shall be back in london . the flat in shoreditch has come on a long way since i moved in . over successive weekends inaki and i disposed of all the carpets , sanded down the floorboards , gave them a couple of coats of varnish , painted the sitting room white and painted the woodwork in the hallway a muddy green (on which our friends are divided) . i hired a van and collected some bits of furniture from mum and dad in gloucestershire . it’s growing into an excellent space to live and work .

my work meanwhile is gaining momentum . but i shall write about that another time .

it’s good to be back a-wandering !

: cH

e s c a p e

[ 21:10 saturday 24 march – loch lomond , argyle , scotland ]

as the location tag suggests i have escaped from north glasgow college !

after about three quarters of an hour there was a scraping and a rattling , then the shutter flew upward . a pall of flat glasgow light slopped across the floor and an irritated man bustled across the hall muttering to start jabbing at buttons on the alarm control panel .

i simultaneously swept my things together and stood up , which didn’t work very well . the alarm siren ceased and the man turned to look me up and down . “hoo on ayerth aer ye ?” he asked , incredulous in 100%-proof glaswegian . i started mumbled my explanation . but as soon as i got to the word “london” a glow of understanding suffused his features and it was clear i need say no more . there is no act of stupidity or folly so great that a glaswegian could not imagine a londoner accomplishing it . i was released .

my flight back to london was booked for that evening , but having come all this way it seemed daft to go straight back . so i put my booking back to sunday evening and got the train up to balloch , at the southern tip of loch lomond . from there i walked a few miles up the west side of the loch to a youth hostel occupying a stupendously gothic victorian mansion .

i sit here now in a huge study with a fire crackling in the grate and the wind rustling outside .

i like glasgow a lot . less polite than edinburgh , in which i spent many long weeks nursing a succession of plays during the early years of the electric company . but it is a greater joy to get away from urban civilisation altogether . this place is sublimely peaceful . across the leaden water of the lake are mountains swathed in snow and cloud . it’s gorgeous .

: cH

i n c a r c e r a t i o n

[ 17:48 friday 23 march – ringford building , north glasgow college , glasgow ]

ummm … i’ve got myself in a bit of a scrape .

i flew up to glasgow on tuesday night to spend a few days filming the six remarkable people involved in the sse’s pilot local programme . this was a mixture of interviews and going out and about .

the final piece was recorded at three this afternoon in the sse headquarters here at north glasgow college . i stayed on and continued with various other bits of work . about twenty minutes ago i was ready to head back into town so i packed up my stuff , locked the room and came downstairs .

somewhat inconveniently , however , there seems to be a steel roller-shutter where the street door was . and all other exits are similarly secured . it seems the building has been closed up for the weekend , with a degree of security becoming to the neighbourhood’s reputation .

now the burglar alarm has started wailing . oh dear .

so here i am , sitting on the floor in the hall with my powerbook on my lap and no means of escape . there’s a coke vending machine the other side of the room so i won’t be short of fluids and sugar if i’m stuck here a day or two .

i’ve called sandra duncan , glasgow co-ordinator for the sse , and explained my predicament . she was kind enough not to laugh whilst i was on the phone . i tried calling the main college office but everyone’s gone home . so sandra’s got onto the police and they’re trying to get hold of someone with a key .

this is all very embarrassing …

: cH

m o v i n g i n

[ 16:28 friday 26 january – springdale road , stoke newington , london ]

the contracts were signed yesterday evening . the owner , mr islam , still gives every impression of being a delightful fellow . but perhaps a range of psychopathic tendencies will be revealed once our deposit is handed over …

inaki and i will be moving in tomorrow afternoon . our doors will be open to guests from nine in the evening .

the address is :

13 taplow house
palissy street
london
e2 7ld

for a map look at http://www.streetmap.co.uk/streetmap.dll?P2M?P=e27ld&Z=1

for a satellite image
http://www.streetmap.co.uk/streetmap.dll?G2M?X=533708&Y=182593&A=Y&Z=1

liverpool street station is about twelve minutes by foot .

bring booze , music and (if you are liable to feel like sitting down) a cushion !

looking forward to catching up with everyone who can make it .

: cH

d o m i c i l e

[ 00:25 thursday 25 january – springdale road , stoke newington , london ]

together with my friend inaki i shook hands on the lease for a flat about five hours ago . it’s in the east end , a couple of blocks back from shoreditch church , at the northern end of brick lane .

not at all what we were expecting to choose . specifically , the building does not appear to have been employed for heavy industrial uses at any point in its history . i should say that it and the surrounding developments were thrown up by speculative developers some time in the early twentieth century , providing housing close to the city for the rapidly expanding professional class . five storeys of solid red edwardian brick .

our flat is on the top floor , up ten flights of echoey stone stairs with an iron railing . the front door opens onto a long corridor . high ceilings , hardly any traffic noise , trees outside , plenty of light . it is a place in which one can breathe and move . for six months it is my home .

the current decoration is somewhat startling . improbable colours on the walls . stomach-churning carpets . furniture straight from the set of a harold pinter play . so inaki and i have agreed to wreak some kind of transformation on the place in return for the owner accepting sub-market rent . hehe ! inaki suggested the idea and i liked it immediately . this will produce an agreeable environment in which to live and work whilst also forcing me into some good old-fashioned practical work to balance all the computery shenanigans .

it is a relief to have the business of house-hunting wrapped up . we started on saturday but by tuesday my temper was already deteriorating.

contracts will be signed this evening . inaki and i plan to take possession on saturday . so i think we might have a party on saturday night (to which you are all invited) .

then i have a lot of work to do .

: cH

s o u t h w a r d

[ 22:00 sunday 7 january – rosevear , st agnes , isles of scilly ]

since completing the previous chunk i’ve had supper (the remnant of seb’s excellent sugo from last week) , started making two loaves of pumpkin-seed bread and walked down to periglis to phone grandpa since today’s his ninety-fifth birthday (periglis is one of three places on the island where i can get a signal) .

as i write , david owen is on radio four talking about britain’s short-lived social democratic party , of which he was a founder . he comes across well . direct , statesmanlike and entertainingly prickly . the time i spent working with him on balkan odyssey seems distant now . i suppose that was my first proper break .

but on with the show .

my final visit to tamale was a brief one . i arrived in the afternoon and left early the following morning . time for some last goodbyes at the mandela development centre , particularly to the digital workshop team . one of the design trainees , mohammed sumaila , had painted a large canvas for me . i packed up my computer , my saxophone , the digital camera and my tailoring into a large bag and left it with the centre staff to send down to accra . then i said my final goodbyes to iddrisu , isaiah and hadi , who had travelled back from a drumming job to see me off .

i needed to be at the tro-tro station at six in the morning . the previous evening i’d bumped into a young taxi driver i knew so i’d engaged him to pick me up . he promised not to be late but ten minutes after the appointed time there was still no sign of him and i was getting nervous . afu amidu came to my rescue and offered to take me in on his motorbike . i felt a little top-heavy perched there with my huge rucksack on my back and the smaller one clasped between my knees but we got there .

and so i left tamale , just as the sky was lightening , squeezed into a decrepit minibus with perhaps fifty per cent more people than it was design to convey . a fitting departure . we proceeded south for a hundred miles along the worst road i’ve ever travelled . passengers gripped whatever solid fixtures they could find as the vehicle lurched and bounced from one chasm to the next .

eventually we arrived at makongo , a tiny settlement on the east bank of lake volta where fish were laid out in squares on the ground to dry . it was thrilling to be by water for the first time since leaving giglio in the summer . to north and south the vast lake stretched as far as the eye could see . after a while the ferry for which i and most of my fellow passengers were waiting arrived and lowered its ramp . i boarded and soon we set off to cross the seven miles to yeji on the west bank .

yeji was a larger place but notably unprepossessing . i wandered around with a young fellow i’d met on the boat , a son of the atebubu chief . several people invited us to share their lunch (my friend was recognised) but i was feeling tired so i excused myself and found a room where i refreshed myself with a bucket shower and slept for a few hours . i awoke to the sound of a whistle , which i guessed heralded the arrival of the weekly ship from akasombo at the opposite end of lake volta a couple of hundred miles south , my reason for being in yeji .

knowing that the voyage back to akasombo would take twenty-five hours and that the ship had only two cabins with beds (the alternative being a board in an open dormitory or the deck) i proceeded fairly swiftly to don my clothes and remove myself to the waters’ edge . there indeed was the yapei queen , an ugly vessel with a large open foredeck and three decks of superstructure rising behind . i went aboard , across the foredeck and up the companionways to the bridge deck . there i found a man who had the unmistakable air of an official . with my heart in my throat i asked about the cabins . to my great relief one was still available so i handed over the fare and promised i’d be aboard in time to sail at two the following morning .

the rest of the afternoon i spent talking to various people around the town , including the largest group of whiteys i’d encountered since arriving in ghana (seven of them , all tourists , who’d arrived on the ship) . as night fell a sound system started playing in a side street and investigation revealed … a street-dance ! by this stage of my wanderings in ghana i was completely uncontrollable when faced with a function of this kind and in no time i was grooving away . i even managed to persuade a couple of the whiteys to join in (one fellow from bavaria and another from norway , who danced in the manner known only to scandinavians) . oh , it was wonderful . but all too soon the pumpkin hour was upon me and i had to tear myself away , gather my bags and board the ship .

the voyage south was one of the most magical journeys i’ve been on . we stopped at four villages on the way down , mainly to load yams destined for the markets in accra and kumasi . the loading process was entirely unmechanised . farmers from surrounding area had piled their yams into great heaps near the water , each specimen marked with a splash of coloured paint to indicate its provenance . women transfered one bowlful at a time on their heads onto the ship , where they were expertly thrown up to boys who laid them layer upon layer in wooden crates , interspersed with layers of grass . it was not a fast or efficient process but there was no real need for it to be . wherever we stopped i took the opportunity to explore and meet people . different tribes , different aspirations , different problems .

by the time we left keti krachi , the last port of call , we must have been carrying more than a hundred thousand yams . there were also a couple of cows , half a dozen goats , a dozen chickens , a minivan , a sofa , a baboon and a couple of hundred passengers . what you might call a mixed cargo .

at night i stood wide-eyed at the front of the bridge deck for hours as we wove between densely-forested islands , the dark horizon sillhouetted by the menacing glow of huge bushfires .

all too soon the surrounding country grew more mountainous and we were approaching akasombo , with its vast dam and hydro-electric plant . the presidential motor yacht was there , moored somewhat incongruously beside decrepit oilers . we docked . i disembarked and started looking for a tro-tro heading towards accra .

: cH