Wednesday, 18 April 2007

  • Easter in Togo

    I’m kind of embarrassed how long it took me to visit Togo, the tiny country bordering Ghana that is only three hours away from Accra.  However, I finally traveled there with Damipi and have nice stories to share.  Our trip began a little loud and a little crazy.  Our taxi driver refused to take us to the bus station we specified and rather dropped us off at some makeshift bus station a few blocks away.  We warily boarded a tro-tro bound for Aflao, the village bordering Lome, the capital city of Togo but eventually decided to get down and go back to our original bus station after ten bewildered minutes of sitting among twenty screaming passengers. (I still don’t know why everyone was screaming at each other)  Once we made it to the right bus station, we boarded a tro-tro to my liking (I can be very picky when it comes to long tro-tro rides) and set out.  The ride there was fairly uneventful.  As we passed through one village, I was astounded that there were hordes of people parading through the streets—all wearing red.  I kept trying to ask them why they were all wearing red, and then later realized I was speaking Asante Twi to Ewes.  I eventually found out that they were celebrating Good Friday.  Who woulda thought?

    My favorite sightings on the way to Togo were four-year-old campaign posters for President Kufour (“4 more years for Kufour in ’04”) and the “Harvard School for Little Kiddies”.  Once we arrived in Aflao, the craziness and frustration of the border began.  People were swarming about, carrying humongous packages, discreetly handing money to border patrol officers, and waving wads of cash around offering to change money.  Motorcycles whizzed about and drivers meandered recklessly through the street.  I was fed up with Togo in the first ten minutes.

    However, as we moved away from the border into the city, I began to feel better.  I was amazed at how everyone gets around on motorcycles.  Though it borders Ghana, Togo doesn’t use tro-tros for public transportation.  Everyone just hails these motorcycles and takes them everywhere, carting babies, televisions, and all.  I rode one and was terrified the entire time.  I kept imagining all the different screws and bolts the doctors would have to put in my soon-to-be fractured skull.  I definitely won’t be hopping on one of those again anytime soon.

    I was excited to see Damipi’s house, and meet his family.  He has two sisters, two brothers, and a live-in cousin.  My favorites were definitely Damipi’s little 12-year-old twin siblings Pakendam (meaning “I thank my ancestors”) and Kiyesso (meaning “I don’t reject anyone”).  I made a hilarious movie of Pake dancing for my entertainment and I cooked several meals with Kiyesso and Damipi’s 15-year-old sister Palama.  The spaghetti that we cooked came out great, but the curry chicken was a disaster.  Damipi’s dad won me over when he took me to the grocery store to buy foods I liked as well as when he got stopped by a police officer and took a ticket rather than paying a bribe.  Damipi’s mom won me over when she took my measurements to sew me a dress.

    Easter was nice.  We had a feast of guinea fowl (it was like chicken but drier), green bean salad, lamb, baked beans, and French bread.  I devoured the French bread, and then bought two more loaves on the street and ate that too.  I couldn’t get enough of it!


    Damipi and I went to the beach on Easter, and were excited to receive free Eastern European soda with our admission.  We watched a nice cultural dance and drum performance, and then took pictures by the water.  I felt like everyone was staring at me, and I finally realized that I was the only person on the entire beach of at least 300 people wearing a bathing suit.  Everyone else was donned head to toe in their Sunday best.  When I put my dress back on, men started screaming at me that I had interrupted their viewing pleasure.  Oh my!  My favorite thing that happened at the beach was the stampede that occurred once all the angry beachgoers on the free side of the beach stormed the pitiful rope barricade to the paid admission part of the beach.  It was so funny watching the people run with mischievous glee away from the bewildered guards!

    Most of my time in Togo was spent watching MTV, reading The Da Vinci Code and The Harvard Business Review, and wondering when the next meal would be.  Nevertheless, I had a nice time, and I plan on going back for a week or so at the end of May.

    Getting home was a long and perilous journey with frequent security stops.  However, we finally made it back to Accra in the dead of night and fell asleep on my sheetless mattress. (Don’t worry, I have sheets.  They were just in the laundry.)  My next planned trip is to the third-largest city of Ghana, Takoradi-Sekondi with my fellow Sagehen Sarah Bird.

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