The Travel Wars starts as any would. A travel to somewhere. For me,
that travel was to Togo. More specifically, Lome. Every 60 days I
need to make what is known as a “border run” to a neighboring
country. Why? Although I have a multi entry visa into Ghana, I still
have to leave every 60 days to renew it. This means I will go to a
near by country, cross the border, and then come back. Usually
because I have to go all the way to another country, many of us opt
to just spend a few days in the place to enjoy it.
My friend and co-worker Patrick decided we would travel to Togo
together and stay one or two nights in Togo.
For all purposes it was going to be a relatively easy trip. We would
go in and go out. However, there were some uncertainty. We were
leaving on Sunday to go from Antoa to Accra, and would head to Togo
on Monday. Togo was holding presidential elections on Saturday. Why
such a big deal? Well, if the current president was re-elected, his
family would have been in power for close to 50 years in Togo. As
well, the opposition party said that if they lost they would protest
and riot. Oh, and by the way. The current president's father? The one
who was in power before his son? Yea, he came in through a military
coup....So going in we were unsure what would happen. Maybe nothing?
Or maybe they would seal the borders and we couldn't get in or get
out. Eh, lets find out!
The adventure began in Antoa, where we took a 40 minute tro to Kejita
to catch a tro tro to Accra. I had never taken one to Accra, usually
opting for the air conditioned buses. But we figured it may be faster
and I heard people yelling for Accra when I went to one station to go
to Techimon for Easter Break. I was proud of myself because I was
able to navigate to the station from the Dr. Mensa Station, aka the
Antoa station, easily and we found ourselves loaded and ready to go
in about 30 – 45 minutes. A significantly shorter amount of time to
the couple of hours an air conditioned bus can take.
It was pretty smooth sailing. It took us about 4 ½ hours and we took
a taxi to the Salvation Army to stay with our friend Kwama. After
getting dinner, having a few drinks, and calling a draw on a bet
between Kwama and I on the most loved football team in Ghana, we went
to sleep.
In the morning we woke to a slow start and then heading to the Tema
station to catch a tro to Afloa, the bordering village between Ghana
and Togo. Again, pretty easy ride in. About 4 hours from Accra. We
got off the tro, had our money exchanged (where I was jipped 5,000
cefa), and went through immigration in Ghana, then immigration to
Togo.
It was crazy the differences. In Ghana you can find English easily
and people really don't get too bothered with English. Togo
immigration, full on French with no forgiveness. Oh, and I know
basically no French....so that set up the trip for fun times all
around. Also the other big difference is transportation. In Ghana you
find tro tros everywhere. In Togo, it be motos. Everyone is on them
and you see them in all types of places. We took a moto to the hotel
we were staying at that was about a half mile away. I did have an
exilarating freak out where I was screaming to the driver that I
never was on a moto before and he silently drove on without
understanding me. Pretty comical if I must say.
The hotel was very nice. We shared a bed in the “backpacker room.”
Afterward, Pat needed to go find an ATM to take out some more cefa.
The hotel is a block from the public beach and you can walk for a
long time just on the sidewalk on the side of the beach to the
commercial areas. It is really beautiful. The water is a magnificent
blue and you see wooden boats all along the side. Of course, we
didn't view the beautiful landscape first. We got lost on a road
before we turned around, asked for directions again, then walked
along the beach. It was about a 1 km walk. We were about half way
when a black SUV drove up to us. Apparently it was a man named
Phillip who worked with the French embassy. He said there were a lot
of robbings on the beach and that it was dangerous. That he would
drive us where we needed to go. So Pat and I hopped in and he drove
us to the ATM. Nice guy. We got da money, then walked on the other
side away from the beach. Perfectly fine.
After that we were both starving and we went on the search for food.
It was a search all right. Most of Lome was very silent. It was a
phantom town with not much activity and many shops closed. Pat was
looking for a chop shop, a place that sells a small amount of food
for cheap. But it was proving difficult. We walked up roads, side
roads, alleys, and found nothing. He said last time he came you could
find them everywhere. But that Monday? Nothing.
Eventually in broken French, Pat was able to ask a woman and she
pointed in a direction. It was a shop, but really no one was there to
eat yet. I guess to early? Who knows. There was a young girl there
and a young woman. Pat tentatively looked at them and in small,
whispering, and questioning English he asked, “Spaghetti?” The
girl nodded and it appeared fine. Then, Pat wanted to try and explain
that I didn't eat meat or fish. He said it multiple times in his
attempts in French and English, but confused eyes looked on. The
young woman asked another woman to come in. Pat explained again in
the same method. Still confusion. The woman goes to get another man.
Repeat. Go get another man. Repeat, THEN SUCCESS. After the 5th
person in we were able to explain what I could eat and the girl
understood. I realize it is my own fault for not knowing French fully
and I promise I will make an effor to learn more. Promise. Anways, we
sat down to drink our beers while we waited for our food. Pat said
thank you in French, and at that point I was for not caring and
hungry, so I said thank you in Twi. The woman understood me... Then
Pat asked her, “Wo te twi (do you speak Twi)? And the woman
responded yes in Twi. Lesson learned? Maybe I shouldn't learn French
and speak Twi everywhere and say fuck it. Cause at that point I put
down my hands and said, “Fuck it I'm speaking dat Twi from now on!”
The food was great though and it was a very relaxing time. We walked
back to the hotel a few hours later and Pat decided to chill at the
hotel bar. I wanted to just sit down on the beach for a few and soak
in the sun set on the water. The owner of the hotel said that was all
fine, but he recommended that I come back before dark to avoid any
issues that may come up with the election results possibly being
told. So I walked to the beach, put my cloth on the sand, sat down,
and sketched a bit. It was nice to see families gather together and
people playing in the boats on the shore as the sun began its
descent.
As I was sitting there though, a young man approached me and sat
down. I was a bit startled considering what we had heard about
robbings. Luckily I did not bring anything with me, so I wasn't too
afraid. He began to chat, say his name and where he was from
(Nigeria) and that he was an artist. A tattoo artist specifically and
then be pulled his shorts down to show me the ink on his upper
thighs. God thing he had underwear on...As we were chatting another
person came by. This one was a friend and he was admiring my tattoos
as well. Both were pretty friendly and clearly wanted me to somehow
work some magic to get them a passport, but I told them I was married
to a man named Kofi from Tamale who was a police officer and didn't
like sharing. Nice enough guys though.
After that, I went back inside and just chilled for a while. Pat and
I were planning on going to a rooftop bar later so we just waited. Of
course, when we finally went out we found out the bar was closed for
the night and we retreated to a beach bar. Not a bad second option,
sharing a beer in the sand, waves crashing on your right and an ocean
breeze.
The rest of the trip was pretty relaxed. Waking up in the morning to
journey for pastries and coffee back at the hotel. It was a nice
luxary. Something special just to take in that was different from
Kumasi and Antoa life.
I eventually said good bye to Togo on the back of another moto.
Driving past the empty roads and silent beaches it was like a phantom
was still there. The whole country seemed like it was in a state of
suspended animation as it waited for the results, and everyone just
wondering what would happen next.
In any case, I walked through immigration with a smile and my
passport from Togo to Ghana. My visa now good for another 60 days I
headed back to Accra with Pat to stay a night with a friend and then
the next adventure in my sights. Kumasi. Though it would be for less
than a day, my eyes were on the prize.
It would be an attack on Kumasi...
