Golf, A Love Never Dies!

My time in Accra is fast approaching its end. As I type this post, I have less than twenty-four hours left in this city I have grown to love. Before coming to Ghana I was sent a large packet by World Learning, Princeton's partner organization in Ghana for the Bridge Year, that was to aid in my preparation for my Bridge Year. Inside the packet was a packing list. The packing list included nearly everything you can imagine: mosquito nets, bug spray, all the necessary toiletries, suggestions of the most practical wardrobe, etc.. The list was several pages long. However, despite the breadth of this list, there was one item that was not on there that was an integral part of my life in America, my golf clubs. Me being the golf enthusiast that I am, I went on the internet to see if there were any golf courses in Ghana. Much to my chagrin the results were not very promising. However, there is one golf course in Accra, Achimota Golf Club! At orientation I joked with Yaw, my program director here in Ghana, about how it would be neat to golf in Ghana. However, I never really expected this wish to come to fruition. By signing up for the Bridge Year I had already come to terms with the fact that I would be giving up my sleek steel shafts and flawless titanium heads for a while. I accepted this because I knew that I was not coming to Ghana to play golf.



A few weeks ago I was talking to Cole, one of my cohorts and the only other male on the sojourn with me, and explaining to him how much I missed golf. I missed the freshly cut grass in the morning and the smell of the morning's fresh dew on the ground. I missed the simple things about the game: the sensation that you feel go up your arms when you hit a crisp wedge shot or a three-hundred yard drive; and the adrenaline rush after sinking a fifteen foot left-to-right putt on the eighteenth hole to beat your buddies. Cole sympathized with me, and although he is by no means in love with the game he saw that I am. He could see how much joy golf brings me by the way I was describing my nostalgia, and he wanted to be a part of this fun with me. Being the ingenious man that he is, Cole suggested that we orchestrate a way to play a round of golf one afternoon over the holiday break at the Achimota Golf Club. The prospect excited me; although, I did not get my hopes up because I understand that we are busy people and I did not even bring my golf clubs with me. Nevertheless, the stars aligned, and this past Sunday we were able to make it out to the golf course. Charles, Cole, and I took a tro-tro to Achimota and we alighted at the Golf Club for what would prove to be a most fulfilling and memorable afternoon.



We arrived at the golf club late, around 3:45 PM. We would have liked to arrive earlier; however the weekly five hour church service prevented this from happening. But that was no problem. I was simply happy to be at a golf course. So we paid our greens fees, retreived our set or rental clubs, and set off for the first tee around 4 PM. The sun sets around 6 PM so we were only allotted two hours of daylight to get our golf fixing. And what a fun two hours it was. The first hole is a 175 yard par 3. The teebox is directly below the veranda of the clubhouse, an area which men and ladies can sit and socialize over an ice cool beer following their round of golf. All the eyes on the veranda were on Cole and me. People expected us to be good because we are 'Oburoni.' However, despite the glares and anxious eyes, I did not feel the least but nervous. My excitement and eagerness left me immune to all other emotions for the time being. I asked my caddy for the 8-iron, so he grabbed the classic 'Ping Eye 2' steel beauty and handed it to me. Much to my own surprise, I managed to make contact with my first swing and ended up landing just off of the left fringe of the green. My touched proved to be just as poor and rusty as I expected it to be. So I three-putted, bent over, and picked the ball out of the cup for the first time in over four months, and I was off!

Everything about the afternoon was cathartic and brought back so many fond memories. I was walking the sweet fairways of God's green earth with my two best friends, Cole and Charles. We sweated under the hot African sun together, reminisced and exchanged stories about our time in Accra together, and laughed at ourselves when we bladed, hooked, and yes, even shanked the occasional 4-iron. The skill may be hard to find; my touch may be nearly all gone at this moment; but the love and bliss I experience on the golf course is still there. I still watch each of my drives with intent and curious eyes to see where they land. And felt just as sweet on Sunday when I sunk a twenty-foot anake of a putt to save par on the eighth hole to save par. Granted, on this afternoon, the putt was to keep me at five over par instead of even par - a score I can hope to challenge again next summer upon returning to the States! The passage of a few months has not caused my love for golf, nor for Arnold Palmers, to subside. Following our round of golf, I treated Cole and Charles to Arnold Palmers. For those of you who do not know. An 'Arnold Palmer' is an historic golfer's drink, and it is made by mixing lemonade and sweet tea - or at least it is sweet tea if you are from the South! This was the first time that Cole's and Charles' taste buds were privelaged enough to receive the deluctably refreshing sensation that an Arnold Palmer gives each man who drinks one. It is encouraging that while I am in a culture very different from my own I can still find joy and stasis playing the game I love. The fairways are just as pretty; the fellowship with my buds is just as rewarding; and the Arnold Palmers are just as sweet...