Into Africa: The return

With every step I took, the narrow rope bridge rocked and swayed like an empty hammock on the beach being pummelled by the west wind. It creaked like an old wooden ship on the verge of falling apart. Then it hit me. I was suspended 30 metres in midair, high above the thick, lush rain forest in Ghana , supported by merely a network of ropes and cables, and a narrow 30-centimetre board, with slender metal bars on either side, used as a footpath. I wobbled in the middle of the fi rst of seven stages of the bridge with no one to hold on to and no one to share my anxieties. The bridge was 350 metres long.
I had no concept of distance at this point. Then from the recesses of my mind, I recalled a fragment of sports trivia that a football fi eld is about 109 metres long. It meant that the bridge where I stood was longer than three football fi elds put together! My salivary glands dried up instantly. My throat began to constrict. I became paralyzed.
After a few moments, I summoned up enough courage to continue the tortuous walk, staggering along the walkway as if intoxicated. My heart began to pound like a Kpanlogo drum and my body heated up far beyond the normal 37 degrees Celsius. My sweat glands, which had been inactive for a while, exploded and perspiration streamed down my face and back. I held a large white handkerchief in my right hand. It was a good time to blot the moisture, but I had pressed it unalterably against the rope and dared not let go to wipe my face. The sweat continued to flow. It dripped into my eyes and onto my lips.
At the beginning of the walk I had tucked my handbag tightly under my arm, straps over my shoulders, like a skydiver hooked up to a parachute. Gripping the ropes on either side of the narrow bridge, I kept going, knowing that my life depended on its support. I continued to put one heavy unsure foot in front of the other, slowly, and with calculation.
Then I felt another panic attack surging to the surface and the dryness in my throat intensified tenfold. I had six and a half more stages of the bridge to complete. It seemed the walk would take me forever. I now had a strong sense that primates and other wild creatures were waiting longingly beneath the deceptive canopy of shrubbery for lunch — my head, my limbs and my organs!
Dear God, what have I done?
My legs became weaker and weaker. I was breathing in spurts, my heart now racing faster than a cheetah rushing at its prey. How did I get myself into this mess? I CANNOT do this. I can’t go any farther; I must go back.
The words of our guide roared inside my head. “If you’re afraid of heights, don’t look down; just look straight ahead.” At that moment the bridge creaked louder than I’d heard it before and it swayed wider than it had ever done.
Oh God, I’m done for now!
I clung tighter to both sides of the thick rope bridge until my knuckles hurt. I wanted to cry, to pee, to do anything that would relieve the tension, anything to eradicate the nightmare, anything except to be on the bridge. I didn’t look down; I couldn’t even if I’d wanted to.
I decided then, that I wouldn’t suffer anymore; I would swivel around and retrace my steps, not an easy movement on a narrow bridge that swayed constantly. It would be like turning on a dime, so to speak.
Gripping the ropes, I twisted my head slightly to glance at where I’d started this crazy, daring feat. To my horror, my cousin Marie, a heavy-set, 42-year-old woman, was already on the bridge, walking precariously toward me! That explained the wider sways and louder creaks.
Damn, I’m screwed.
I had Hobson’s choice now; I could either leave or continue. Choice number one was not an option; there was no getting off, unless I wanted to fulfill the zestful desires of the ferocious animals waiting, lurking beneath the bushes.
Going back was out of the question too. Something else the guide had said flooded into my head. “Only one person is allowed on the bridge at a time.” The person ahead of me would’ve completed stage one and moved onto the second leg by now. In another few moments, Marie would arrive at my spot and another person would step onto the bridge. With only four members of the group ahead of me, and Marie behind me, six tourists and two guides were still waiting to get on. I couldn’t ruin this once-in-a lifetime adventure for the rest of the group. I had to move forward.
As I thought more about the situation, my fear changed to anger.
Wait until I see Charles Ansah again; if I ever do, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands! He got me into this.

The previous day I’d told Charles that my cousins and I planned to spend two days in Cape Coast , the main reason being to visit the famous Elmina and Cape Coast slave castles.
“You’re planning to spend only two days here?” Charles had asked, his voice tempered with disappointment.
“Yes, our friend from Kumasi told us there wasn’t much to see in Cape Coast except the slave castles.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” His strong African voice exhibited annoyance and so did the expression on his face.
“There’s a lot to see here. One place you must see is Kakum National Park , and you have to go on the Canopy Walkway .”
“The Canopy Walkway ? What is that? I’ve never heard about it before.”
“Really? It’s world famous. The park opened officially in 1994 but the Canopy Walkway was completed in 1997.”
“That explains why I hadn’t heard of it then; it was probably not completed when I arrived in Ghana last time.”
“It’s the only rainforest walkway in Africa . That place is a major tourist destination and attracts more tourists now than almost anything else in Ghana .”
Pride exuded from his face, pride that his part of the country was bringing in well-needed foreign exchange. I was taken aback to hear about the place as I’d not done so on my fi rst visit to Ghana . That shouldn’t surprise me, because I was quite uninformed at that time and hadn’t done any research. Back then I was merely obsessed with seeing the land of my ancestors . Now that my curiosity had been appeased, I was deeply interested in Ghana’s culture and history. Charles seemed eager to show off Kakum National Park and because my cousins, Peabody and Marie, who were travelling with me, wanted to see and learn as much as they could about Ghana, we agreed to visit it.