Africa 2006

I was grumpy. 

I woke up in Accra with a minor cold; my head was throbbing from clogged sinuses. Contrary to what the hotel staff had told me, the buses to Cape Coast, 120 kilometres west along the coast, were not leaving every hour, and the only one that day (I had missed the 7.30 departure) was leaving at 4.30pm, meaning another night-time arrival in a new city. It took an hour by taxi to drive the 4 kilometres to the Accra bus station to buy my ticket.  Later that afternoon, as I prepared to depart, the friendly but somewhat futile Man Who Can Only Say Yes (a similar incarnation also exists in several other countries…) was working at the reception. “Can I catch a taxi right outside the hotel here?” Yes. “Or should I walk down to the main road for a taxi?” Yes. “Will you give me a million dollars?” Yes. (OK, of course I didn’t ask the last question, but you get the idea). 

No taxis were showing up, and by the time one did and I managed to talk it down to a vaguely reasonable price, it took well over an hour to return to the bus station (“It’s only a 20 minute drive,” the MWCOSY had assured me at the hotel).  I arrived at the station and the bus was delayed (of course). 

To paraphrase Bridget Jones: grrr, grrr, grrr. I was tired and becoming frustrated by the tiny inconveniences that happen all the time here but are normally just part of the fun experience. Would I never get a straight answer from anyone? Would there ever be straightforward transportation anywhere on this trip?  And then I met a lovely woman, with tinted sunglasses and a grey hairpiece which was reminiscent of Mme Samb in Senegal. 

I had tapped her on the shoulder to ask if I was indeed waiting at the right spot for the Cape Coast bus. Yes, she assured me I was, and then introduced me to her friend who was travelling on the same bus. The friend told me she’d keep her eye on me and make sure I caught a fair taxi at a fair price when I arrived (late at night) in Cape Coast.  I thanked her for her kindness. 

“Well, my children have travelled abroad and have always been treated well by local people,” she said. “So when I meet people travelling here I always try to do the same.”  And, just like that, she restored my faith in the whole experience. 

PS – Even more so, when, upon reaching Cape Coast, the woman’s friend escorted me in the taxi and insisted on paying for it when I safely reached the door of the (wonderfully named) Mighty Victory Hotel. It reminded me about how, at every corner of this trip, I have been met with kindness and hospitality.