Togo: where the journey’s motto was “life goes on”

I’ve officially been to TWO African countries. Togo is less than half the size of Ghana and to drive all the way through Togo from Ghana to Benin takes only about three hours. The official language of Togo is French and the currency is franks.
Six of us left bright and early Friday morning to the trotro station where we waited several hours for the trotro from circle, Accra to Afloa (the Ghanaian city that borders Togo) to fill up. When we were finally on the road, about an hour outside of Accra I realized that I had forgotten my passport. I felt quite stupid. I knew I needed a passport and I knew that I don’t carry it around in my purse, so it should have been one of the first things I packed but it completely slipped my mind. I only realized that I didn’t have it when I was looking outside the trotro’s window wondering about what kind of stamp I would get on my passport. When I told my mates their first response was to think that I was joking and then their next question was what am I going to do now? It’s not like I can just ask the trotro to turn around while I pick up my passport and its about a 4 hour drive to Afloa. I really didn’t want to miss out on Togo; I had been looking forward to French pastries for days. I sat in trotro debating what to do when I finally came up with a plan. I decided I was going to ask the driver to be let out at the next safest point and hitch another trotro back to Legon (where I live) and then pay a taxi to drive me straight to Afloa to save time. I knew taxi travel would be much more expensive but it was the price I was willing to pay for stupidity. Corbett, to my relief, decided to join me on are the backtrack. We planed to meet up with the other group at the border, after all we were only about an hour behind them (despite our taxi driver being pulled over and almost arrested because of something about the fire extinguishers in his car being faulty). This plan of reuniting failed as our telephones don’t work in Togo and we had no way of getting a hold of them.
From Afloa it’s only a couple steps through the border and you’re in Lomé, the capital of Togo. In our guide book we were warned that Afloa is particularly known for its chaotic mass of people trying to take advantage of foreigners. My book writes, “readers have passed on stories about ‘unofficial officials’ hanging around, and shifty ‘guides’ getting in the middle of things—but if you’re reasonably alert, refuse any advances made by prospective guides or money-changers, and walk straight from the lorry park to the border post, then you shouldn’t have any problems.” And sure enough as soon as we stepped out of our taxi, there was a rush of Ghanaians trying to get our attention, either wanting us to get our money exchanged with them, buy a bottle of coke, or top up on minutes. So Corbett and I had our “take no shit” faces on when two guys approached us wanting to get to know us. Not knowing exactly where to go we allowed them to help us a little but made it very clear that we were not going to pay them anything in exchange. The border process was fairly simple and efficient and in less then a half hour we found ourselves in Togo. Not being able to contact our friends (no signal), we decided it best to at least find a place to stay for the night and drop off our bags. Our two followers offered to help us and we reluctantly allowed them. They ended up finding us a fairly nice hotel for a fair price right by the ocean. Since they already knew where we were staying and were pretty helpful we told them they could stop by tomorrow if we weren’t busy.
The next morning we awoke early to try to find an internet café to email our friends where we were staying on the off chance that they would check it. The internet was down in all the cafes (big surprise) so we went roaming the streets for some good bakery.
We were keeping a running total of the white people we saw because there weren’t that many (and people watching is fun). I said to Corbett "Oh, there's another white person" and Corbett paused with a puzzled expression and then said “...wait I think i know her”. I thought she was full of total b.s. but it turned out to be her old high school teacher. Imagine that! She had no idea she'd been teaching/living in Togo for two years now. Between the two of us, we had no clue what we were doing prior to meeting her because the two people with guide books that included Togo were both in the other group so she told us all the cool places to go.
Back at the hotel our two friends, Holly and Tagoe were waiting for us. We ended up going to this voodoo market, which we had been wanteding to see, where there were all sorts of dead animals used by people to make potions for medicines. Snakes, monkey heads, lizards, birds, rats, cheetahs, alligators, even a puffer fish. Ooo and I saw a gorilla’s foot. I asked how they collected the animals and the guy showing us around said they all died of natural causes but Corbett and I both find that hard to believe. We also met the chief of the Voodoo village and he showed us a bunch of different artifacts that meant different things. I got this voodoo travel telephone that he personally blessed. It’s supposed to keep me safe during my travels. We were going to go back to Afloa after that because the two guys wanted us to see their home village and meet their parents but as we were crossing the border again Corbett realized she didn’t have her wallet (she had her debit card and what equated to about 100 dollars in it). This caused a huge riot when the news broke out. Other Ghanaians were accusing the two guys we had been with all day and searched them. Corbett and I had no idea what do/think. We didn’t really think the guys had taken her money but we didn’t know. Corbett wanted to go back to Togo to go to our hotel to see if it was there and the two guys went back with us. The last place Corbett got out her wallet was at our hotels lobby to pay for another night. Having retraced our steps, we realized that Corbett must have left her wallet at the lobby after we had paid for our room. We had been sitting at this table next to these two priests, whom had been sitting there the whole time. They recalled seeing this guy come in, bend down to pick up something and then walk away. Corbett was in good spirits about losing it, she kept saying ‘it’s just money’. But the two guys, especially Holly, were very distressed. Holly kept saying what we thought was “I feel pennies” and it took us forever to figure out that he was saying “I feel penitence.” This is where things took a 180 turn. It went from them chasing/following us around to us trying to get them to follow us. They felt so bad that her wallet had been stolen and that others thought they had done it and kept sulking around, totally being buzz kills. So we were like “come on guys, cheer up, let’s get some ice-cream. So with effort we went to this really nice icecream/food place. It was so weird because Corbett’s teacher said these exact words “if you want to find your friends go to the Fountain of Ice ream, they’ll be there” and sure enough our other friends (not the ones we originally traveled with but from our program) were there. From them we learned where the other group was staying and that Ric and Megan had been searching the city for us on motor bikes. By the time we went to their hotel we learned that they had already checked out to go further north into Togo. We spent the rest of the day walking along the ocean and Corbett and I ate at this nice restaurant. The menus are all in French but Corbett is pretty fluent in the language so she did all the ordering. I told her that I wanted a salad (good salads a rare in Ghana) so she pointed at one, “get this one, it’s your typical garden salad.” Not that I’m blaming her, but something got lost in translation because the salad I received had a fish staring me in the eye, followed by a layer of tuna and beneath that was loads of pepper; all foods I can’t stand. At the bottom was some lettuce and tomatoes but they had already been ruined by the other aromas. The pizza however, was delicious.
On the last day our journey we meet up with our two friends to attempt again to go to their home village in Afloa. They took us to the local spots along the ocean where we drank this island alcoholic drink made from corn. It was so yummy! They introduced us to all their friends or ‘brothers’ and we sat and drank and talked for quite awhile. As we were enjoying of drinks, we heard this distant chanting that we found out was the people pulling in the fishing nets. All the local villages help pull the long nets to the shore and sing for good luck. It was neat to watch. We then went back to their home were they climbed a coconut tree to get us coconuts. Haha who does that? Thirsty? Let me just climb this tree and get you some. Back at their house they made us a local dish of banku for dinner with this pepper sauce filled with many small boneless fish. I of course could not eat any of it but truly I was full off the freakin coconuts I had eaten anyway. Ooo and they had a cat named Culture that I went gaagaa over. It was my first time petting a cat since I’ve been here!
That day was one of the most authentic experiences I had here yet. We would have never got to experience it all had we listened to the guide book. A local village like that is not something a foreigner can see unless being invited. As we were drinking, an older women walked past us with this huge smile on her face and she finally said to us, “I like this, I like the mixing.” At the house, all the little girls were peering the heads at us from behind the trees as we were enjoying our coconuts and we tried to motion to them to come and sit by us but Tagoe said they were to shy because it was the first time they were seeing whites.
Also, while drinking we were listening to reggae music talking about the meaning behind the songs and life in general. One of the guys said in a poetic fashion “life goes on, man” which I really think should be the motto of the whole journey. I forgot my passport, we got pulled over, (my camera broke by the way), phones didn’t work, Corbett lost her wallet but we had such a surprisingly awesome time.

Lome and Accra are quite different and I made a few observations that are unique to my experience. First, there are TONS of motor bikes in Togo. We counted about 20 bikes to every car. You can pretty much hitch a ride to anywhere on the back of a motorbike; which was our main source of transportation. I didn’t have a helmet or anything (shoot me) and on dirt roads with pot holes it was slightly scary but mostly fun. I saw so many children on the motor bikes. I looked over and this man was driving with a woman on the back, not holding on, and in between them was a small child just relaxing to the max. Also, professional hospitality has been fully embraced by the Togolese compared to in Ghana. The service we received at restaurants was amazing. Venders/traders were less aggressive and more chill. The buildings of Lome have a much more distinct European design and are generally taller. Also, Lome appears to be cleaner but that is mostly because they have closed gutters. From my limited knowledge on African history, I would venture to say the more European feel of Togo has something to do with the ideology difference between France and the British on colonization. The French believed that Africans could aspire to become French and ‘civilized’ and thus strived to integrate them into their society. As where, the British ruled as if Africans could never achieve such a status. After befriending this older Togolese gentelman (who actually helped corbett and I out money-wise because we became broke on my sole budget) who is cheif of his local villiage, he learned that the Togo goverment controlls practivally every sector and that the people of Togo are not as free as the people of Ghana.

Updates

Last Saturday I went to the hospital for my bites. I wouldn’t have gone except that it was the perfect day to go considering I had no plans and it was raining cats and dogs. In total the hospital ordeal took up about 5 hours, which is not that bad considering some of the horror stories I’ve heard. Corbett and Meagan were awesome enough to accompany me. As I was filling out the new patient form, I was struck by a question that asked my religion. In Ghana, there is no concept of separation between church and state. So for convenience purposes I wrote Christian, because any answer besides Christian, whether written or verbal, sets one up for a lengthy preaching to convert the sinner on the righteous path to God. The hospital set up basically consists of many rooms and the patients are more or less herded like sheep through each room. The first room was blood pressure and temperature room. Taking my temperature was done the old fashion way with a thermometer shoved up my armpit. The next room was a quick visit with the doctor, whom looked much sicker than me. She spent most her time with me either coughing or blowing into her handkerchief. The next room I went to was the payment room where I paid the money to get some blood work done, which leaves me to the 4th room which was surely the most awkward room for me. As the lab doctor was shoving a needle into my arm he had the audacity to try and flit with me. Now after living in Ghana for two months now, I have become accustoms to getting hit on daily, but from a doctor, who was well into his 50s reached a new level. “I like you, next time you come to Ghana, I will pay for the flight and you will stay with me.” Phsss. In the finally room, I saw a new doctor which looked at the lab results and concluded that the infection had not reached my blood and she prescribed me some antibiotics and some ointment. I am happy to say that the bites are much better now.

I’ve started volunteering at an orphanage. The orphanage is quite nice and run by good people, which makes all the difference in the world. The kids are between the ages of 0-16. There about 40 kids in total. The oldest kid, and the one that has been there the longest, is blind and has some sort of mental disability. I volunteer once and sometimes twice a week. One Tuesday, which is the main day I go there, the theme is “sport” so I spend most the morning letting the kids bounce on the trampoline or push them on the swings. The house is big and nice but the yard leaves something to be desired. There is no grass area, and to play a game of kick ball would prove challenging with the lack of space. The kids are all pretty well behaved but some try to take advantage of newbie volunteers, and hell I would too if I was their age watching volunteers come and go as often as they do. As a volunteer we’re basically there to give the kids added attention to alleviate the full time workers for a few hours. If I was a millionaire I’d give all the workers or “mothers” as the kids call them, lavished vacations because if anyone needs a break, I’d say they’d be on the top of the list. Cooking, feeding, cleaning, and caring for so many children 24/7 seems like such a daunting task. While most the kids are well behaved it is clear that some of them have emotional problems. For instance, this one boy has an issue with the swings and concept of sharing. He throws the hugest fits when his turn is over. Another girl constantly wants to be held. Most the children are either HIV positive or have AIDS so as volunteers we are not allowed to do any daiper changes or work that involves any other bodily fluids. A boy about 10 and his sister who is about 7 and their baby sibling are all getting adopted on October 5th by this couple in Ohio. The boy (for liability and security reasons I cannot use their names) always asks me how many days are left. Adoption is a very long process and when I talked to the children it was as if they understood that the date was approaching quickly but were unable to really comprehend exactly how close it really was. “They came to visit me last Monday,” said the boy, which turned out to be a Monday several months ago back in December. The boy asked me what Ohio was like and all I could think of was that they have one of the largest rollercoaster parks, which created a stir of excitement. It is such a message of hope to see all siblings getting adopted together. The adoption process no doubt takes a toll on the some of the children though, another girl that is in the middle stages of the process got so nervous her new parents were coming she peed her pants three time throughout the day.

This could very well be paradise

After hearing of bike trails not too far from Legon, Corbett, Meagan, Ric, and I decided to check it out. After two trotro rides we reached the bike rental place which was more of a house than anything. There was this room filled with mountain bikes and a huge map posted on the wall outlining all the trails, and there were tons. Bikes are 5 cedis an hour to rent or 70 cedis per day. Some of the trails require a guide which is a little more. We decided to take the trail that lead to a waterfall for a flat 20 cedis per person, guide included. After biking several miles we reached the point where we needed to travel on foot so we hiked a couple more miles through the forest and eventually made our way to this beautiful waterfall. We spent a couple hours there relaxing and enjoying the scene. I soaked my head in the waterfall to cool down. Our guide was awesome, picking up random crabs to show to us, and inadvertently challenging us to climb along the steep side of the waterfall. Also, he climbed this tree that overlooked the fall like a monkey on steroids, very impressive. In total we biked about 15 miles and hiked a couple more. We, well at least Corbett and I, plan to come back again to do a 3-5 day biking extravaganza, resting the night at local villages we pass through.
After biking we decided to venture in the botanical gardens, since it was near by. There we spent the rest of the day parading around like the survivors of the show Lost (which we have started the series over and have become quite addicted). Aiding in our plot, there was this random plane that looked quite out of place in the gardens.

The next day, at our last scheduled USAC outing, we went to Ada beach which I have decided is pretty much one of my favorite places in world. We took a boat ride on the river to a secluded island where the river meets the ocean, separated only by a small strip of beach. There I walked along the shore trying to take in all the beauty of the place as a collected what I deemed the coolest seashells from the masses that lined the shores. We left the island, too soon in my opinion, to yet other island; this one where the locals live and produce an alcoholic drink called palm wine. By its name, I had assumed it was a type of wine, and after taking a taste shot of it, I was quickly surprised at its potency; though good, quite stronger than wine. We ended our day of paradise at a lavished hotel, designed exclusively for the accommodations of wealthy foreigners, where we relaxed by the pool side.

This Bites

In my unprofessional opinion I’m some sort of allergic to the mosquitoes here. After going to the North, I’ve come back with tons of mosquito bites that have become infected. I have several bites that puss daily and one got so bad that my whole leg became sore for a few days. I will admit that I’ve caved to some itching but really I’ve tired very hard not to scratch. Plus, I don’t know anyone else who has such bad bites as I do. I know that I will surely get a scar from the big one on my left leg but I just hope they heal soon. I’ve been treating them daily with Neosporin.
I call the mosquitoes here ninja-squitoes because they are slightly smaller and much quieter than mosquitoes in the states. They sneaky and sly and I hate them.

On a more dramatic note, malaria has struck in our hostel. This German guy that lives a floor below me and Sean (my USAC friend) both have malaria. For reasons of their own, they were both not taking prophylactics and I have yet to hear of anyone taking the pills to get malaria but having friends get it makes the threat of malaria seem much more real.

Door of No Return

I finally made it to Cape Coast! We choose this particular weekend to go to Cape Coast because an annual independence festival was going on. The streets were crowded with people to the max. We saw the president of Ghana addressing the people from afar.

We made our way over to see Cape Coast’s slave castle. It was so horrific to hear about the conditions the slaves endured. As I was standing with my eyes closed in one of the cells listening to the guide speak, trying to imagine the unimaginable, a sense of revulsion besieged me. One woman finally asked what had entered everyone’s mind: why didn’t they just kill them? Imagine more than a thousand slaves stuffed in a small, windowless concrete block, going months and months without ever seeing sunlight or breathing fresh air, sitting in their own feces.
The last door we encountered was labeled the “door of no return” because when slaves past the door they were then traded and shipped out to places all over the world. Ironically, the door led to the most beautiful view of the Atlantic Ocean.

After the tour of the slave castle we went to eat at a more touristy restaurant right next door. It was hard to get over the eerie feeling of the mixing of modern life with the backdrop of the haunting slave trade centuries ago. At first I was guilt stricken by my present surrounding but then I remembered that I should take celebration in today, that that part of history is history, which seemed remarkably fitting on Cape Coast’s independence festival.

We went out later that night, all eight of us. We drank and danced and were merry (haha). We came home in the early a.m. and a couple of us snuck out of our motel rooms (past the guard) to enjoy the ocean. It was so incredible swimming in the ocean and running along the shore. It was my first time actually swimming in an ocean and I was immediately struck by how salty it was.

The next day we enjoyed a complimentary breakfast at the Coconut Grove motel which was probably one of the best dining experiences I have had here. I ate cereal, toast, an omelet, fruit, oats, loads of pastries and drank hot chocolate, pineapple juice, and tea. Oh how I loved that free meal.

We ended our Cape Coast vacay with a stop at Kakum National Park to try and survive the canopy walkway. To get to the canopies was a decent hike and I after purchasing a bag of popcorn at the last minute beforehand I was in the back of the group. That’s when I saw two older woman, probably well into their 80’s, slowly but surely joining us in our brave walk. By the time we reached the canopies one of the older woman had decided she had her fair share of thrill but the other woman kept going. There were two walkway paths, one was a shortcut that had only three canopies and one a longer version with seven. I of course, chose the longer one. As for the scare factor, it gave me quite a rush but nothing really to say it was that scary (in my opinion). Sonya however, didn’t join us because last year she changed her mind in fear after the first section of the walkway and started to cry. The views of the forest were absolutely beautiful from that height! To see trees rights next to you, above you, AND below you was so cool. I gave the older woman a congratulatory hug after she came down from the canopies. I was so amazed by that woman. She told me afterwards that she would never do it again but she’s so happy to have done it.