Busua is a small fishermen’s village located 15 km from Takoradi. I found my way there for the first time in 2009. I can still remember myself walking along a narrow street with a glittering blue sea at its end, holding my breath in excitement until a beautiful paradise beach view opened up in front of me. Love at first sight. Back then, I had no idea what that place would mean to me in the future.
And here I come again. The road to Busua leads through a green, lush rain forest. There’s a taxi station pretty much in the middle of the village, just about 50 meters from the beach. All passengers including me get down from the rusty shared taxi, each of us paying a few cedis to the driver. Right next to us, some local women are loading the catch of the day into another taxi. The fish will be sent to Agona market where they will be sold to women who will then serve their families or chop bar clients some light soup or okro stew with fresh nice fish. A group of taxi drivers are sitting around the station waiting for their own shift to drive.
Later in the evening, the street vendors’ kerosene lanterns on both sides of the street create a warm, dim, inviting glow around the darkness. The atmosphere is intense, magical. I can hear nice reggae rhythms from a tiny street bar behind a corner and see shadows of children, goats and hen passing by reflecting on the walls of surrounding guest houses. There’s a woman selling kenkey and fish by the side of the street; her eyes and sweaty forehead shine in the dark. She greets me in the local language, Ahanta, then says something that I can’t understand and we end the chat with a warm laughter. Everyone around walks slowly, timelessly. The night sky above is stunning.
"I feel so present here.
I feel the deepest essence of life
with every breath I take."
I’ve spent much time here. Nowadays coming here feels almost like coming home. I meet people that have become so dear to me. In them I see how time flies, how life evolves, yet Busua in general seems to always remain the same. In Busua everyone knows everyone’s business. You’ll get surprised how a stranger calls you by name and comes to greet you like a dear friend from the past. You’ll hear things that don’t make any common sense but still something within you gives you that strange feeling of belief. You’ll hear stories of love and death, dreams and losses.
"Those beautiful green hills and
huge, tall trees surrounding the village
hide so many secrets."
Most Busuans make a living from tourism, farming and fishing. One pharmacy, one cafeteria, one school. A friend of mine, Emmanuel, is roasting peanuts in beach sand, in a big kettle in front of his kiosk alongside the street. I buy some mosquito repellent, soap and plantain chips from him. His 2-year-old son is playing with a small toy car on a low stool next to the sales stand. Emmanuel tells that it has been a very quiet season in Busua. No wonder as the raining season is at its peak. Be it good or bad, this friendly street vendor has always a smile on his face.
There are about ten guest houses built side by side on the beach. The other half of the beach line remains virgin. Youngsters are hanging out on the beach, watching the endless sea, playing pool and surfing, waiting for something interesting to happen. Some of them make a good living by providing services for tourists, yet it’s very seasonal. Some also leave to Takoradi or Accra after work – some get a chance to travel the world with the visitors they meet on the beach.
"The village is like the garden of Eden.
Enjoy it but beware of snakes."
Local beer is refreshing after a swim in the salty sea. Dinner time in a candle light is beautiful when dipping toes in the sand and listening to the waves breaking. Burgers, fresh tuna or lobster, fufu, ”rasta beans”.. A toucan is croaking on a coconut tree leaf nearby, a backpacker is reading a book in a hammock, and the waves pull the seashells back and forth, back and forth.
Happy greetings from a paradise!