Independence Day Cup Accra, Ghana 2011
Article by Benjie Davis
Arriving at Accra Airport and stepping outside, the Ham Polo Club Team were confronted by three striking observations. Firstly the heat, 32°C at 10:00pm. Secondly the fact that Mr. Bean was being played on a huge screen above our heads. Finally it occurred to us that we were in Ghana, with no idea where we were staying or how we were to get there, let alone a name or number of anyone local able to answer these fundamental questions.
I allude to the entire team being concerned; the polo manager was far more concerned about his search for a cigarette lighter. It had after all been a six and a half hour fl ight on an airline that for sponsorship reasons I am forbidden to name or critique. Some time passed outside the airport and Mr. Bean on the big screen marched on through series two. Needless to say we were ignoring the fact that, though we had not changed our watches, we were now on GMT (Ghana Mean Time) and things happened at a slightly different pace.
We were, of course, rescued and taken to our excellent hotel. Interestingly, the one favoured by the airlines to put up their Trolley Dollies overnight before the fl ight home. Terrifi c.
Now, as polo tours go, this is a good one. The morning of day one was spent by the pool refl ecting on the fact that our rooms seemed to have been upgraded. Freddie had found himself in the honeymoon suite on the top fl oor. Heartened further by the thought that it was raining and miserable in England, we opted for the beach. It was there that we received a phone call to let us know that the grooms were ready with fi ve or six horses each for us to stick and ball. We arrived at polo some time later having experienced the defi nition of stationary traffi c jam. Even though we wound
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down all four of the air conditioners, it was agreed that more care needed to be taken selecting which taxis to ride in.
Despite being established in 1902, Accra Polo Club sports fantastic brand new facilities. Huge bill boards line the fi eld with the scale of sponsorship that you would expect to see at Twickenham or Wembley. The pitch itself is laser levelled and planted with grass imported form Argentina (the only kind of grass worth brining into Ghana, I’m told). Stabling at one end accommodates over 200 polo ponies and the two storey clubhouse is complete with the kind of contemporary-styled restaurant you would expect to fi nd in any high-end hotel around the world.
I was directed to a horse called Argentina, and Hugo to one called South Africa. Both had been bred locally. They were very nice though, and we said so as we changed onto our next ponies. Naturally this meant we never set eyes on them again.
Sitting in the bar, post practice, it dawned on me why people undergo fi tness training before partaking in demanding sports in hot countries. I hadn’t, of course. None of us had and I began to wonder about our wellbeing during a six chukka match. Then I decided to take the Ghanian approach; I had a Gin and Tonic and stopped worrying.
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