Africa 2006

“So, how did you like Togo?”  

I was being ‘quizzed’ by the Togolese border official at the Togo-Ghana border post at Aflao.

“Well, it seemed nice, but unfortunately I wasn’t feeling very well, so I didn’t get to see much of the country,” I answered.  

“Ah!” – that’s the only way I can write the falsetto exclamation of mock horror that seems common in this part of Africa, used to mean something like “What! You can’t be serious!”. “Well, that’s alright,” he continued. “Next time you visit, you can find me and I’ll keep you company the whole time.”

I crossed the 100 metres or so into Ghana, my last overland crossing of this journey, and the story was similar. 

“Can I have some money?” an official inquired hopefully, after asking to see my yellow fever vaccination (finally – it was the first time since Bamako someone had asked to see proof of the expensive piece of paper. Finally it seemed all the cost was worth it – plus, you know, medical protection against a potentially deadly illness).

I shook my head. 

“Well, maybe you could marry me instead?” he ventured optimistically.

I declined again, but I did offer him a token Canada flag pin (one of those free ones all the MPs give out). This time, he turned me down (!!!) 

And so I arrived in Ghana, land of English speakers and religiously-themed hair salons.

Yes, southern Ghana’s fervent Christianity is famously expressed in the many religiously themed names owners give their various enterprises. In the first few minutes of my bus ride to Accra, I witnessed places like the Goodness and Mercy Veterinary Clinic, Glory Mart, the Holy Trinity Spa & Health Farm and Sweet Jesus Fashions. A van was painted with the slogan “The Lord will protect me from all danger.” It was parked next to a construction site where tree trucks kept up the different floors and people worked several storeys up without any hard hats.  

The three-hour (in reality, 5.5 hr) trip to Accra was filled with more potholes and police checks that I had anticipated from a country many ex-pats in other regions had insisted was the most “civilized” and “advanced” of the region (their choice of words). But the journey passed without incident and I arrived along the tree-lined and refreshingly moto-free boulevards of Accra just as the sun was setting.

I had a reservation with the Caspar Guest House. My Rough Guide listed it as “mid-range” in price, but as loyal readers will recall, I had to have a confirmed reservation before my visa was issued and so I had chosen a slightly pricier place because I needed it to have access to a fax machine to send the confirmation. My guidebook listed it as about $35 US / night, certainly more than I have been paying, but worth it now and then.  

Except the price had now gone up to $70!!

Of course I paid it – the reservation was made and I was tired (and the German owner was nice and friendly). It will get considered an extra cost of buying the visa.  

Then at dinner I was relaxing in the small octagon-shaped restaurant of the hotel and ordered chicken kebab with rosti (hey, it was on the menu!). I could smell the grease heating in the kitchen. Then a cat ran in through the open door, not an uncommon occurrence. But within a minute she was racing around the room and screeching. I glanced over my shoulder to see that she had caught a still-writhing mouse between her jaws. The cat gave me a satisfied look from where she stood right next to the kitchen door.

So this was the entertainment an extra 40 bucks buys. 

(PS – And although my air conditioner started dripping water and making very bizarre noises in the middle of the night, waking me up and forcing me to change rooms, the owners were very helpful and friendly and actually gave me a nice discount, so I can’t slam them too much. Still, I’ve had to switch to a more budget-friendly place, and will leave tomorrow for Cape Coast. Onwards and upwards, as they say!).