The proprietor of the farm prepares a pineapple for sampling and describes the workOn every trip, we try to see or do something which better informs us about Ghana. About a half an hour's drive north of Amasaman's dusty streets is Samsam, noted for its appealing greenery and agriculture. We decide it's time for a field trip, lock the office, and head for the green hills of Samsam with Mike, Rita, and Amanda in tow. We decide, since we pass by, that it might be interesting to visit the pineapple packing facility of the Blue Sky company first. Unfortunately, Blue Sky guards its plant as if it were Fort Knox. They require a written request to see the facility stating the "purpose of our mission." This is, alas, all too common in Ghana. What prompts it? Suspicion? A feeling of power in saying no? My thought is that they could probably add to their revenue by charging a few cedis to anyone wishing to tour the place--maybe having tours one day a week or something--but that would be me.... We will prepare a letter for another time.
We turn off the highway and head into Samsam's green hills. As it happens, Amanda's mother is from Samsam. This gives us an "in" and we are offered a tour of the pineapple fields by a farmer there. It is very hot and the sun is powerful. I am glad for my straw hat and for my ever- present water bottle, though it is hot enough to brew tea in it. We are in for a long walk. The farmer shows us the 3 varieities of pineapple he grows. Some pineapple are "volunteers," his term for those simply planted in the ground and some are "forced," those which are planted and then fed fertilizer. One of the 3varieties is a hybrid with the unpoetic name MD2. Some of the pineapple plants are raised in beds covered with plastic sheeting. The farmer (who I presume to be "Jack") talks at length informatively and proudly and offers samples of each variety which he cuts in the field and trims with his machete so that we can taste. This is the best pineapple I have ever eaten: sweet, dripping with juice, warm from the sun. It is remarkable that this effort shows considerable technical expertise. To see Samsam's mud-walled houses (see below) and the rough living conditions here, I did not expect it.
We turn off the highway and head into Samsam's green hills. As it happens, Amanda's mother is from Samsam. This gives us an "in" and we are offered a tour of the pineapple fields by a farmer there. It is very hot and the sun is powerful. I am glad for my straw hat and for my ever- present water bottle, though it is hot enough to brew tea in it. We are in for a long walk. The farmer shows us the 3 varieities of pineapple he grows. Some pineapple are "volunteers," his term for those simply planted in the ground and some are "forced," those which are planted and then fed fertilizer. One of the 3varieties is a hybrid with the unpoetic name MD2. Some of the pineapple plants are raised in beds covered with plastic sheeting. The farmer (who I presume to be "Jack") talks at length informatively and proudly and offers samples of each variety which he cuts in the field and trims with his machete so that we can taste. This is the best pineapple I have ever eaten: sweet, dripping with juice, warm from the sun. It is remarkable that this effort shows considerable technical expertise. To see Samsam's mud-walled houses (see below) and the rough living conditions here, I did not expect it.
A magnificent tree is part of Samsam's greenery.
The mud-walled houses of Samsam.
Another example of the jarring juxtaposition of the ancient and the modern- the car parked near the mud-walled houses.
We've learned a lot about pineapple, enjoyed the greenery so absent from the environs of Amasaman, and lunched on pineapple as fresh as you can possibly get it. It's been an interesting excursion and a nice break for all of us from routine!
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