Sunday morning, on our first full day in Ghana, we took a tro tro from Agbogba to Accra Mall, where we got some Ghanaian cedis from an ATM and had lunch at Le Must Family Restaurant.

I was glad to have the experience of riding in a tro tro, but I never want to do it again. The problem wasn't with the tro tro, but with me: I'm mildly claustrophobic. It was unpleasant enough to squeeze in beside The Woman and The Musician in the fourth row of a Toyota HiAce (yes, another one!), but when the third-row jump seat came down in front of me to accommodate the final passenger - thereby entombing me in the vehicle's back corner - I started to get squirrelly. I had to push my face out the window's narrow opening to keep my head.

I didn't pull out my camera on the ride, because Ghanaians generally don't like to be photographed without permission. But I found this video on YouTube, recorded by someone who rode a tro tro through Accra in exactly the same seat as mine:

Recorded on March 28, 2011 using a Flip Video camera.

So the trip from Agbogba to the mall was my first and only tro tro ride. After that, it was taxis all the way, beginning with our trip from the mall to Jamestown, where we spent the afternoon.

On the outskirts of Jamestown, for 30 cedis, we engaged a local to act as our guide. This was a wise decision, for three reasons:

First, it meant we didn't get lost: Jamestown is one of Ghana's shanty towns, which Accra's city guide describes as "mazes with muddy lanes where goats, chickens and dogs scrabble for scraps".
Second, it meant we were welcome: the guidance of a local is a key that opens many closed doors.
Third, it gave us the opportunity to take photos: as I said, Ghanaians generally don't like to be photographed without permission, but on this tour, our guide would frequently stop and say, "It is permitted to make photographs."

The Musician makes two new friends in Jamestown.

As we left Jamestown, we our guide posed in front of the fort that gave the town its name. Built by the British in 1673 and named for King James II of England, James Fort was intended to serve as a trading post. Later, it was converted to a prison, and a prison it remained until 2008, when it was closed in the wake of the discovery that it was operating at twenty times its capacity, with up to 92 prisoners sharing a single room.

The Jamestown Lighthouse is another local landmark. Built in the 1930s, it's over a hundred feet high. From its gallery, on a clear day, you can see for sixteen nautical miles.

Climbing to the top of the Jamestown Lighthouse is no small feat: near the top, the steep spiral staircase gives way to a nearly vertical ladder, and the small enclosed space amplifies the heat (low 30s) and humidity (mid 80s) of the day.

But we managed it, and we were rewarded with spectacular views of Jamestown and Usshertown.

The history of Accra is, in part, a history of competing colonial powers. Just as the English had Fort James, which gave its name to Jamestown, so the Dutch had Ussher Fort, which gave its name to Usshertown, which is adjacent to Jamestown. That's where we spent the last part of the afternoon.

I so wish I had a photograph of what happened next.

Our guide took us into the midst of a celebration involving the tribal chief of the Dutch side. The Woman and I caused a minor commotion when we entered the area wearing our baseball caps. Our guide, realizing our mistake, motioned to our caps and hissed at us: "Get them off!" and we swiftly bared out heads before the chief. Then, the community's attention quickly returned to a bull that was being slaughtered in the midst of a very tight circle of onlookers. So tight was the circle that a few children were splashed with blood and bits of viscera as the bull was hacked down. It felt very Apocalypse Now:

After it was done, I asked our guide why the bull had been slaughtered.

"For the ancestors," he replied, as if it was obvious.