Crocodile Riding in Paga

For centuries people in Ghana’s northernmost savannah have maintained a spiritual relationship with their crocodiles which in recent years has developed into a unique tourist opportunity.

As each distinct flavour of my group stepped into the lagoon pen we were suddenly gripped with apprehension. Our carefree wandering devolved into a shuffling herd as we collectively became conscious of our mortality. The muscles around my shins contracted, trying to squash the thought of teeth sinking into them.

From a distance the lagoon remained still until a friend pointed to a shallow section. Only its movement distinguished it. Camouflaged atop the murky water amongst the lilies glided a yellowish-green crocodile.

The crocodile keeper shepherded us to the lagoon’s edge. The rate and pitch of the group’s chatter increased as we nervously scanned our surroundings. We then noticed a young croc gradually emerge from the water, its mouth open to cool itself. Two girls gave slight squeals while one guy hooted in relief “it’s tiny!” Standing fifteen feet away I crouched down to stare into its mouth; I could only see to the back of its throat which made it strangely reminiscent of its plastic toy representations.

Animated conversation made me turn to see a much larger, much darker crocodile heaving itself out of the water, its slow movement accentuating the menace in its eyes as each meticulous step brought its metre-long jaws closer towards us. Once it was completely ashore the keeper casually stepped around its tail and pressed its midriff down so it ceased waddling towards us.

We were each invited to sit on the croc’s back behind its hind legs and to lift its tail. Some tried to emulate the keeper’s calm while others couldn’t contain their nerves; approaching the carnivore with caution, being careful where they placed their hands. Some couldn’t suppress breathless exclamations. The croc didn’t necessarily ease anyone’s nerves, with any movement immediately arousing our primitive fears. Sometimes it attempted to give a passenger a slow ride and on one occasion suddenly began to turn around when one of the guys got off it. “Oh my god!” he laughed once the keeper’s hand forced the croc down.

When my turn came I sat astride the croc’s knobbly back. I placed my hands upon its scales which felt like armoured rubber, hard yet spongy. Its hefty breathing pulsed up my arms dictating my own. As I stood up the croc decided to reverse with me, following my petrified legs as they stumbled backwards. The keeper pushed the croc down again so I could lift its heavy tail. It felt cold and rubbery like a hose, yet as I ran my fingers across its spine of blunt spikes a sense of ease began to mix with my exhilaration. I put on a confident expression as I walked back to the group on quivering legs, simply relieved I still had them.

Find out more at http://www.travel-to-discover-ghana.com/paga-crocodile-pond.html

WARNING: Videos contain idiots and swearing. Give us a break we are young and stupid and near a half ton carnivorous reptile...