ArchiAfrika-April-Magazine-English-final-v2

CHAIRMAN’S
corner
ALL ROADS
LEAD TO
LAGOS VIA
MUMBAI AND
ACCRA
Joe Osae Addo
Chairman, ArchiAfrika
I woke up on the 30th floor of the Renaissance
Hotel in Mumbai to a spectacular view of
the lake and the high rises beyond, a far cry
from the intensely chaotic, but seemingly
synchronized traffic of the previous night’s
arrival in the city from Mumbai airport. The
experience of arriving in Mumbai is strangely
familiar to that of arrival in Lagos and to a
lesser extent, Accra. The familiarity of these
experiences is a clear vestige of colonial British
rule.
Deep thoughts abound as I
reflect on what Ghana, and
the other colonies, could have
become and suddenly I find
myself reminiscing about
the Ghana of my childhood
in the early 1970’s. Ghana in
those days appeared idyllic
with exposure to a modern
way of life firmly rooted in
the passionate love for our
traditions, passed on from
our grand parents.
The previous generation of non-Accra folk,
were born and raised in our hometowns and
villages rather than the cities, and therefore
the first generation of us city children would
still visit the village frequently, and truly
looked forward to our monthly trips out to
experience the change of pace. To me as a
precocious child, modernity embodied being
able to straddle modernity and traditionalism
with ease and without conflict.
Nothing symbolized modernity and Accra
living more than the Ambassador Hotel
(now Movenpick Ambassador Hotel—to
which it bears no resemblance at all), with
its extraordinary swimming pool and grand
international style architecture. As a nine year
old, what mattered most were the delicious
scones and Cornish pies! It was these great
pastries, be it the local or western inspired
ones, which made my Accra tick. My thick
waistline emerged all those years ago, and I
blame it entirely on the Ambassador Hotel!
Early 1970’s Accra was a child’s dream.
Afternoon Boys Scouts meetings at the Ridge
Church School, where I attended primary
school and where my dear mother also
happened to be headmistress, to the Children’s
Theater at the Arts Center, to the music lessons
at the National Symphony where my piano
teacher Mr. Vanderpuye worked: this was my
way of life. We would sometimes ride our
‘banana seat bikes’ around the Ridge School
with dear friends, Amand Ayensu, Joseph and
Michael Kinsley Nyinah, Robert Millls, Adjei
Adjetey, with Afua Sutherland Park and
George Padmore Library as our stomping
grounds. Even then I knew that open space
and good architecture mattered- as embodied
by the spaces described and the Ambassador
Hotel. Life was not so bad at all.
Swimming at the Ambassador was the special
treat any child would crave for. The pool as I
remember it had bright blue tiles, which gave
the water the look of the ocean and made it
appear so large that it commanded my respect.
We jumped from the diving boards with gusto
but were mindful not to be a nuisance to the
regular swimmers. One such ‘hip’ gentleman
that seemed to live in the pool (hahahah) was
‘the famous South African’ Hugh Masekela.
Yes, that was how the pool attendant described
him to us at the time. Hugh was a gentle kind
man, and often obliged our Cornish pasty
habits. We knew that this man was in exile in
Ghana and was a very famous musician. We
revered him, even at that age.
These are very sketchy
memories, but I remember
his easy and commanding
smile and certainly his
generosity and that he lived
in the scion of modernism,
the Ambassador Hotel.
I wonder what he thinks of the new Movenpick
Ambassador, whose amenities I still enjoy
with my family today. My sons Kwaku and
Juhani often run around the hotel, as if they
owned it, much as we did over 40 years ago.
Certain things never change! It’s a shame that
they will never experience the connection to
heritage that such buildings conjured for us
residents of post-colonial Accra.
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