"Soooo.... this is Togo......" Stacie turned to me and smiled as she said it. We had just walked out of the air conditioned office of the Ghana Boarder Control, and across the dirt road through throngs of beggars and masses of vehicles to the Togo Boarder Control Office. It resembled an old open air, wooden school bus shelter with armed men flanking a uniformed man seated at a desk. There wasn't enough room in front of the desk to accommodate baggage and more than one person. With 50 lbs. of luggage strapped to me and sweat dripping off of my face as if I were the human form of Niagara falls, I tried to fill out the requisite paperwork we had to complete at every boarder crossing. Forms when you enter, forms when you leave. Basic information of identification, dates, reason for your visit, type of transportation, how much money you have and whatever else they deem critical at that particular time.
It was the same day that we had picked up Stacie at 4 am from the Ghana Airport. It was so good to see her coming out of the terminal just as we arrived. After a very long group hug, we went made our way back to the Oceanfront Lodge in Accra where we were Staying.
Stacie had spent a week with her friend Rachel in Morocco. We agreed to meet her in Ghana, then travel to Togo. So far it had gone according to plan. Stacie has skills for haggling that are unmatched. She arranged for a taxi to drive us to the boarder and informed us how much we'd need to pay and in a few hours we were there.
When we left the Togo Boarder Office a guard called to us, he spoke to Stacie in French indicating that he wanted to search our bags. Stacie pushed her backpack towards him and with a smile explained to him that she lived in Togo and spoke to him in Kabiye. She gave him the Togo handshake and he melted like an ice cream cone in the heat of Africa. She later told us they like to detain you in order to get a bribe. He wasn't able to resist her charm that day, and we once again we looking for a taxi in the throngs of hawkers, beggars, Nigerian Money Changers, merchants, motorcycles, cars, buses and trucks.
The Mediterranean Hotel where Stacie suggested we spend the night before heading north to Kara was modest and had a roof top restaurant. We were all exhausted from the travel du jour but Stacie was sick and getting worse. I gave her some medicine and she went to bed.
John and I walked along the beach to an ATM for some local currency. We hurried because it was late in the afternoon and it is not safe at night. After we successfully filled our pockets with CFA's and were on our way back, John whispered to me, "don't look there's someone who's naked across the street." I looked. Yep, there was a very tall, very skinny, very naked person. "Was that a man or a woman?" he questioned. "Don't know, didn't look that close," I replied. The mentally ill people in Togo are called a Foo, Stacie informed us when we told her about it the next day. She said that in her village they kept them shackled in a house.
I noticed as we got closer to the hotel, that the evening sky was filled with big black birds. It suddenly became evident that they were actually big bats. We quickly made it back to the safety of our hotel at least that's what we thought, but the events of the long day took yet another turn...
A nice cool breeze wafted over us as we sat at the otherwise unoccupied roof top restaurant, while we sipped on glasses of cold white wine from the bottle we had ordered. A tall, swarthy man came up the stairs and walked up to our table. He inquired weather he might sit with us and ordered a bottle of wine to share. It wasn't something that would happen in America, but we were used to adjusting to situations after two months of world traveling.
He introduced himself as, "Aziz" and immediately dominated the conversation with broken English and centered it upon himself. Where he lived, traveled to, what he liked, how he had just come from a very large party at the beach, how much he drank and that he was in the cosmetics industry. He went on to say that times were difficult because he couldn't find drivers for his cargo that was sitting on the docks. He told us that we could go to is house and have a party or stay or whatever we liked. He said he was able to get hashish, cocaine or anything else we might like. Before he was done saying these things, the owner of the Hotel, a Lebanese man, arrived at our table carrying a hookah that he was puffing away on. He sat and looked at us with eyes at half mast and offered us a smoke, which we declined.
The two men exchanged conversation in a language that neither one of us knew, but most it was most likely Arabic. I leaned over to John and in a low steady voice said, "go with the flow". At this point we were just looking for an exit. We had nibbled on our dinner and the Hotel owner was called away by the staff. I made my move, it would be easier if we left one at a time....well easier for me anyway. I quickly said that I must go check on my daughter and departed.
Stacie was asleep and soon I was too. The next day John related to me the rest of the story of the Night We Had Dinner With A Drug Lord. He told me of how after seeing the movie, God Father, we would wake up with a horse head in our bed if we owed this guy a favor, and so therefore bought yet another bottle of wine to share with him. Aziz wanted to drive us to Stacie's village and was insisting on helping us. "My ability to handle liquor finally paid off," John said, "but I was only able to drink him under the table because he was already three sheets to the wind when he arrived."
Early the next morning we walked to the Peace Corps Headquarters in Lome in order for Stacie to file a reports. She introduced us to some of the other volunteers that were also visiting there. I relayed the story of our dinner guest and a the volunteer said, "Oh yeah, everyone knows they have a drug ring there."
Adam another PCV found out that we were going to Kara and wondered if he could hitch a ride with us. On the way up he and Stacie swapped stories of their Bush Taxi experiences while we waited along side of the road for the driver to add more water to the overheated car. Of the dozen or more times this occurred, only once we thought we would be killed, when the car died as we turned in front of a semi truck. I guess it wasn't our time to go, because it was a miracle the truck didn't hit us. About half way through the eight hour drive, the taxi driver apologized to us saying that another car would have to finish the trip. As we pulled into the next town and stopped, a car pulled up behind us. In less time than it took to add water into a radiator we were on our way in a different car with a different driver.
We realized as the driver dodged potholes, swerving from side to side while playing chicken with other drivers that there would be no dinner for us, and the early morning light breakfast was a distant memory. Stacie enthusiastically told us about a restaurant a couple of hours before we would reach Kara that served Life Changing Mutton Sandwiches! She had the number programed in her phone even. When we got to the landmark she deemed was the appropriate amount of warning, she phoned in our order. Indeed when we arrived our dinner was ready. The juicy mutton was thinly sliced, grilled with onions and tomatoes and served on a fresh crusty roll. Stacie was right.
It was late and dark when we finally reached Kara, but Stacie was really excited and kept exclaiming that it was the fastest, best trip that she had ever experienced from Lome to Kara. Adam agreed.
The Hotel in Kara where we stayed served us big ice cold beer upon our arrival. Stacie insisted on going the rest of the way home because she was so homesick.
Currency: Communaute Financiere Africaine - $1 USD = $490.90 CFA
It was the same day that we had picked up Stacie at 4 am from the Ghana Airport. It was so good to see her coming out of the terminal just as we arrived. After a very long group hug, we went made our way back to the Oceanfront Lodge in Accra where we were Staying.
Stacie had spent a week with her friend Rachel in Morocco. We agreed to meet her in Ghana, then travel to Togo. So far it had gone according to plan. Stacie has skills for haggling that are unmatched. She arranged for a taxi to drive us to the boarder and informed us how much we'd need to pay and in a few hours we were there.
When we left the Togo Boarder Office a guard called to us, he spoke to Stacie in French indicating that he wanted to search our bags. Stacie pushed her backpack towards him and with a smile explained to him that she lived in Togo and spoke to him in Kabiye. She gave him the Togo handshake and he melted like an ice cream cone in the heat of Africa. She later told us they like to detain you in order to get a bribe. He wasn't able to resist her charm that day, and we once again we looking for a taxi in the throngs of hawkers, beggars, Nigerian Money Changers, merchants, motorcycles, cars, buses and trucks.
The Mediterranean Hotel where Stacie suggested we spend the night before heading north to Kara was modest and had a roof top restaurant. We were all exhausted from the travel du jour but Stacie was sick and getting worse. I gave her some medicine and she went to bed.
John and I walked along the beach to an ATM for some local currency. We hurried because it was late in the afternoon and it is not safe at night. After we successfully filled our pockets with CFA's and were on our way back, John whispered to me, "don't look there's someone who's naked across the street." I looked. Yep, there was a very tall, very skinny, very naked person. "Was that a man or a woman?" he questioned. "Don't know, didn't look that close," I replied. The mentally ill people in Togo are called a Foo, Stacie informed us when we told her about it the next day. She said that in her village they kept them shackled in a house.
I noticed as we got closer to the hotel, that the evening sky was filled with big black birds. It suddenly became evident that they were actually big bats. We quickly made it back to the safety of our hotel at least that's what we thought, but the events of the long day took yet another turn...
A nice cool breeze wafted over us as we sat at the otherwise unoccupied roof top restaurant, while we sipped on glasses of cold white wine from the bottle we had ordered. A tall, swarthy man came up the stairs and walked up to our table. He inquired weather he might sit with us and ordered a bottle of wine to share. It wasn't something that would happen in America, but we were used to adjusting to situations after two months of world traveling.
He introduced himself as, "Aziz" and immediately dominated the conversation with broken English and centered it upon himself. Where he lived, traveled to, what he liked, how he had just come from a very large party at the beach, how much he drank and that he was in the cosmetics industry. He went on to say that times were difficult because he couldn't find drivers for his cargo that was sitting on the docks. He told us that we could go to is house and have a party or stay or whatever we liked. He said he was able to get hashish, cocaine or anything else we might like. Before he was done saying these things, the owner of the Hotel, a Lebanese man, arrived at our table carrying a hookah that he was puffing away on. He sat and looked at us with eyes at half mast and offered us a smoke, which we declined.
The two men exchanged conversation in a language that neither one of us knew, but most it was most likely Arabic. I leaned over to John and in a low steady voice said, "go with the flow". At this point we were just looking for an exit. We had nibbled on our dinner and the Hotel owner was called away by the staff. I made my move, it would be easier if we left one at a time....well easier for me anyway. I quickly said that I must go check on my daughter and departed.
Stacie was asleep and soon I was too. The next day John related to me the rest of the story of the Night We Had Dinner With A Drug Lord. He told me of how after seeing the movie, God Father, we would wake up with a horse head in our bed if we owed this guy a favor, and so therefore bought yet another bottle of wine to share with him. Aziz wanted to drive us to Stacie's village and was insisting on helping us. "My ability to handle liquor finally paid off," John said, "but I was only able to drink him under the table because he was already three sheets to the wind when he arrived."
Early the next morning we walked to the Peace Corps Headquarters in Lome in order for Stacie to file a reports. She introduced us to some of the other volunteers that were also visiting there. I relayed the story of our dinner guest and a the volunteer said, "Oh yeah, everyone knows they have a drug ring there."
Adam another PCV found out that we were going to Kara and wondered if he could hitch a ride with us. On the way up he and Stacie swapped stories of their Bush Taxi experiences while we waited along side of the road for the driver to add more water to the overheated car. Of the dozen or more times this occurred, only once we thought we would be killed, when the car died as we turned in front of a semi truck. I guess it wasn't our time to go, because it was a miracle the truck didn't hit us. About half way through the eight hour drive, the taxi driver apologized to us saying that another car would have to finish the trip. As we pulled into the next town and stopped, a car pulled up behind us. In less time than it took to add water into a radiator we were on our way in a different car with a different driver.
We realized as the driver dodged potholes, swerving from side to side while playing chicken with other drivers that there would be no dinner for us, and the early morning light breakfast was a distant memory. Stacie enthusiastically told us about a restaurant a couple of hours before we would reach Kara that served Life Changing Mutton Sandwiches! She had the number programed in her phone even. When we got to the landmark she deemed was the appropriate amount of warning, she phoned in our order. Indeed when we arrived our dinner was ready. The juicy mutton was thinly sliced, grilled with onions and tomatoes and served on a fresh crusty roll. Stacie was right.
It was late and dark when we finally reached Kara, but Stacie was really excited and kept exclaiming that it was the fastest, best trip that she had ever experienced from Lome to Kara. Adam agreed.
The Hotel in Kara where we stayed served us big ice cold beer upon our arrival. Stacie insisted on going the rest of the way home because she was so homesick.
Currency: Communaute Financiere Africaine - $1 USD = $490.90 CFA
Um so I got a mention in your blog. Whoot! Also great to know how Stacie's trip back went. Hahaha. Such good stories! Safe and happy travels to you both!
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