A LONG, detailed account of tro-tros and more
Trip Start
Jun 02, 2003
1
18
41
Trip End
Dec 31, 2006
Cotonou,
Benin
Friday, January 2, 2004
Angela, Cristy, and I entered this crowded blue mini-bus in Accra after much loud fanfare and argument. Finally, we got yelled at to "Sit there!" - me between a woman with two children on her lap (one of which eventually ended up on my lap for a portion of the ride) and Cristy on the fold down seat, and Angela on half of the fold down seat with Cristy and half of another seat with a man
Bussua
. We were squished, but we settled in for the long trip and tried to make the best of it. At the front of the bus, someone had thoughtfully put stickers that chanted like a mantra in my head for the duration of the trip. I wondered if the stickers "I will make it in Jesus name" and "God who lifted me up will not let me down" were there to protect the bus from any impending danger as we clattered down the road and shakily swerved around the other cars, horns blasting: "Out of my way! I will make it in Jesus name!" If we did suffer some disaster, at least we were taken care of; after all, the bus had a sticker that said, "I am covered with the blood of Jesus." The final sticker reminded us that "If God can say yes who can say no?" During the entire four to five hour ride, I never quite figured out what the blown up beach ball strung from the spot where the rearview would normally hang meant, but I am sure that it must be some other protective talisman that guided us safely to the border town. If religion can't save us from eminent disaster, maybe a beach ball can. From there, we crossed back over into French-speaking Togo and caught a taxi back to Cotonou, Benin, where our trip had begun a week before.
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Angela, Melissa, Cristy, and I left Cotonou on a Monday afternoon, our passports with fresh Ghanaian visa stickers burning in our pockets. We found a taxi from Cotonou to Lome, Togo, at the Jonquet auto station (for those of you who may be traveling around West Africa--there are many auto stations). A couple of fast-talking border guards later (we married Cristy off a couple of times), we were in Ghana
Ghana Family and Tro-Tro
. It was night, and the border town was bustling with people eager to help the fresh, foreign meat. We found some money changers and almost got ripped off by 40,000 cedis. Note to future travelers to Ghana: If possible, change money in a bank, but if you must change on the side of the road, triple count. The first time you count, you may discover that it is short. THIS IS ALL PART OF THEIR EVIL PLAN! These money changers are David Copperfields with magic fingers that flutter through the bills faster than your eyes can follow, and rather than give you the missing bills as you assume, they manage to take more away so that in the end, you end up with less than the first count. An hour or so later, we finally got in a taxi that promised to take us into Accra. The taxi stopped to get gas on the way, and Cristy and I freaked out in the convenience store, our first one we have entered since leaving the States. We perused the two aisles overwhelmed by the selection. Should we get Pringles, shortbread, or Chips Ahoy? Junk food! Hooray!
We cruised into Accra on a freeway (!!!!!) at 11 p.m. and after checking into the Salvation Army (a great, inexpensive hostel in Osu, a flashy section of Accra) headed off to feed our empty stomachs. We finally entered America, or the closest thing to it: Champ's Sports Bar. Big screen TVs. Pool tables. A long wooden bar. A few drunk men at the table in the corner. We were home. I rarely frequent sports bars in the States, but after being away from home for so long, it felt good. Don't worry, though. I did forgo the American fare and try some Red-Red later in the trip. Red-Red is a typical Ghanaian dish of fried plantains and red beans cooked in red palm oil. It's quite tasty.
The next day, after a pancake breakfast at Frankie's, we wandered around Osu, hitting the souvenir stands and Koala supermarket, and then taxied over to Mancala market to check out awesome batik fabrics. Ghana is much less expensive than Benin. Bead fanatics will love the handmade beads in Accra. Melissa and Cristy picked up some cool pottery pieces, including my favorite - a pottery plate that has basket side weaved into it, creating a cool sort of bowl.
We intended to leave Accra the next day, Christmas Eve, and head to Busua. Let the frustration begin! Finding a bus out of Accra was not an easy chore. We went to the STC bus station and found out that the only bus with seats available that would leave for Takoradi that day was at 6 p.m. Two different auto stations and several fights with chauffeurs later, we gave up and headed back to the 6 p.m. bus. As we waited to climb on, we met a Ghanaian guy, Kojo, and his American friend Wendy. Kojo had been living in the States for the past six years attending university and medical school and was back to visit his family for Christmas. Because we would be arriving late at night, Kojo invited us to stay with his family in Takoradi rather than continue on to Busua. We accepted, and our frustration proved to be worth it.
Kojo and his family were absolutely wonderful. They gave us beds, dinner, and lively conversation. It turned out that Kojo's grandfather was from Benin, so we got to speak a little bit of French and Fon with him. Christmas morning we sat down to an ENORMOUS breakfast that had been laid out just for us: hot dogs, baked beans, cornflakes, bread and jam, Digestive cookies, tea and coffee. Before we left to head on to Busua, we gave out some Christmas/thank you gifts like the basket/pottery bowl, and I chatted with the old grandfather who told me that I should tell my friends and family in the States that I now had a Ghanaian family in Takoradi and that we were all welcome to visit anytime. Kojo took us to the auto station and helped us find a taxi that would take us on to Busua, where Jon Kendall, one of my stagemates, and his family were expecting us.
Soon after arriving in Busua, we received another incredible Christmas gift. Jon's Dad found us a room in his friend's gorgeous hotel and said that it was on him that night and that we could stay in his rooms for free the next few days when Jon's family went over to Benin. Such incredible Christmas spirit! Such generosity! This on top of the Takoradi experience brought us to tears that Christmas morning. We couldn't believe this was happening to us. That night we had Christmas dinner, which included pumpkin pie, at the hotel with the Kendalls.
Anyone who is in need of a relaxing vacation, head to Busua, which boasts one of the most picturesque beaches I have ever seen. The little island I wrote about in the last entry creates a perfect break for the waves, so the ones that land on the beach are the perfect size for swimming, body surfing, and boogie boarding. We spent the next few days lazing around on the beach soaking up the sun and drinking fresh-squeezed juices, and on Saturday, Melissa, Angela, and I headed back to Takoradi for the afternoon to eat lunch with our new Ghanaian family.
The fun has to end sometime, though. Melissa left paradise a day earlier than the rest of us so that she could meet a friend at the airport. Angela, Cristy, some other volunteers and I made our way back on Monday. Angela and I made an unprecedented stop into a tiny little town because of me. That Monday morning I came down with a serious bout of nausea after breakfast (I am in the medical unit for this problem now). My stomach and my bladder couldn't take being on the bouncy little bus any longer, so I jumped off in a nowhere town desperate to find a latrine. Angela followed me, and we ran around following two men (who were leading us to what was probably the best latrine in town) with a hoard of little children chasing behind us. Angela said she felt like we were in a parade. I was too preoccupied with nausea and finding a bathroom to notice. Later, we found another tro-tro to the junction where we could get a taxi to Takoradi. My nausea did not leave me and got even worse en route. Angela took me to Kojo's house once we got to Takoradi, and they took care of me there while we tried to figure out what to do. Eventually, we got on a first-class bus; I took some pepto bismal and a sleeping pill and dozed through the blasts coming from the Nigerian action movie playing on the bus TV. My nausea went away for a while, thank God, not to return again full-force until New Year's Day.
Enter Accra. We ate pizza and drank milkshakes on our last night before the tro-tro madness. And the next day we said goodbye to the city, waving at billboards that said "Have a nice hair!" as we cruised back to reality.
And now, here I am in Cotonou. It is good to be back in Benin, but it was nice to have a break from it for a while. I am eager to get back to N'Dali. I miss Ella! But first, a few examinations in the medical unit to figure out where the nausea is coming from.
Happy New Year to all! Good luck, good health, and much joy for 2004!
