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Johan Kruseman
While I was sitting on the edge of the high stone wall surrounding the fortress, I heard a faint hissing sound from below. I looked down and saw a boy looking up at me, as if asking for permission to toss a small stone wrapped in paper. On his second try, I caught it and read the note. He explained that he went to school but didn’t have enough money to buy the required books. And while I know stories like this aren’t always true, with this boy, it felt real. And even if it wasn’t, it was obvious he could use the money. So, I wrapped a small banknote around the stone and tossed it back.
A few hours later, I was walking through the small fishing harbor when I heard the same hissing sound. I turned around, and he immediately said thank you. We started talking, and he wanted to show me where he lived and introduce me to his family. He lived in three self-built huts with three families (24 people in total). He had four sisters and two brothers. That evening, we played foosball in the harbor, but it was clear he’d played way more than me. It got so embarrassing that he started picking up the ball mid-game and placing it in front of my striker until I finally scored. After this 10-1 victory for Ghana, we headed back to the main street, where his mom had cooked about 50 liters of pumpkin soup with fish and meat to sell to the people in town.
But how do you explain that, on your first day in Ghana, your stomach isn’t ready for meat and fish that’s been sitting in the 30-degree sun all day? The soup itself was boiling, so I gave it a shot. The fish heads and chunks of meat she tossed in last minute, though, I decided to leave and subtly handed them over to her daughter—whose stomach, I assumed, must be stronger than mine. She was surprisingly happy with this small gift. I found out that she normally only gets rice since the rest was for sale, not for the family to eat.
The next day, the boy was waiting for me in the late afternoon. We’d both had long days. He had taken a bus at 6:00 AM to get to school by 8:00, spent the entire day doing math, and then taken the two-hour bus ride back at 3:00 PM. Meanwhile, I had visited another slave trade fortress in Elmina, a neighboring town 25 km away.
He excitedly told me everything he’d learned at school and mentioned he was saving up for a bike so he could ride to school himself. He was also looking forward to playing soccer on the beach that evening—only problem was, his ball was broken. And sure enough, within a minute, we “just happened” to be standing inside a shop selling soccer balls. If anyone knew how to ask for something without actually asking, it was him. I decided to buy the ball. It turned out you had to pump it up yourself, so five minutes later, we had a perfect soccer ball. And somehow, in no time, all his friends knew there was a new ball in town, and we were playing soccer on the beach.
As usual, they assumed anyone from the Netherlands must have Johan Cruyff-level skills, but after my first three touches, they quickly adjusted those expectations.
