The paved road ended at Ambo. My dad and I would have to be escorted by our driver 24 kilometers up a rocky road to the peak of the dormant volcano of Wenchi. We were making our way to the storied Crater Lake of Wenchi. Pretty soon we exceeded the boundaries of civilization, where village people gazed at us bumping down their road. Stray dogs and donkeys carrying supplies mingled about.
One curt encounter that stuck with me occurred half way up the hillside. A small boy no older than 6 years old was standing alone in front of a dozen cows grazing a small bit of pasture behind him. With a stern look on his face, he was swinging a 10 foot long whip above his head. It took every cent of strength and coordination the child had to maintain the whip's circular motion. I grew tense thinking about what this young man was aiming to do with this huge whip. We passed him slowly, and then he cracked the whip behind us, making a deafening blast that made all three people in the car jump. I looked in my side mirror, and the boy was bent over laughing at us with his whip lying limp in his hand.
We had a good laugh about it and continued up the road, spoiled by the breathtaking landscape that surrounded us.
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