August 28, 2009

Today I arrived in Lome, but it is the journey here that has made this arrival so sweet. Let me begin yesterday and work forward.
In Kansas City there was some difficulty with charging me for all the extra weight in my FOUR suitcases and while dealing with that they began calling my name over the P.A. announcing it was the final boarding call, I had some how been put on standby for the flight that left an hour ahead of my scheduled flight. This only caused all the blood in my face to drain and my stomach lurch, but this was all remedied when the man behind the counter explained things to me and then basically charged me quickly, wished me luck, and shooed me away.
In Chicago I made instant friends with Isaac, a 7 year old Ghanan boy traveling with his mother. We quickly discovered we were sharing the next 2 flights. During the second flight I read and played with Isaac and talked some with his mom too. I guess it was a good thing that I carried some of the children’s books in my carry-on! Issac even came to sit with me since the flight was not very full. Everyone began to think he was mine. Isaac’s mom was happy to have some time to sleep too.
In Accra, Isaac’s mom and I collected our bags (thank goodness they all arrived!) and waited for each other to go through Immigration. She also made sure that I had a taxi and her number too. She asked me to call her when I get a phone.

My taxi driver took me to check the bus times for the next day, to change money, and to find my guesthouse. I have to admit that as we drove away from the airport and into the city of Accra I thought for a moment that I really must be crazy because I did just move to Africa, for real! But then a few more blocks passed and I realized that this was good and I was at peace again. When we arrived at the guesthouse the people said that it was full even though there seemed to be many keys that were in the slots. I suspect they were not interested in renting me a room. The taxi driver, however, told me not to worry and he would take me to another hotel. It turned out well, with the exception of the last minute fumigation of my room while I checked in. Thank goodness for fans!
They prepared vegetables and fish for me and it was a bit of an a-ha moment when the fish was served with the head, eyeballs, and tale still attached to the cooked fish, but it was good. I refrained from eating the eyeballs, head, and tale for anyone who was wondering.

It was a very long night as I continued to wake up wondering what time it was. I even went down to the desk to check the time a few times. Then it was finally time to leave for the morning bus. The taxi driver that I got seemed to know less about traveling around Accra than I did as he took me to the wrong bus station even when I told him it was not the correct place, but we eventually got there. As I paid for my bus ticket a man told me to “hurry, hurry!” and I began to rush like in America; however no one else seemed to hurry any so I slowed down a bit as to not stick out so much. The lady I bought my ticket from noted the dirt on my shirt and I realized the taxi driver’s seatbelt was so dirty that it rubbed off on me. Now I was not only the only white woman as far as the eye could see but the dirty white woman among the cleanest dressed people. Now not everyone smelled great but they looked clean, for sure. I opted to change my outer shirt on the bus and just get these crazy heavy bags loaded. In the end I paid some boy to throw them into the back of the bus, the taxi driver ripped me off and we both knew it but I didn’t have all day to haggle over a small amount, so I got on the bus and took it in stride.
Now the bus I got on was scheduled to leave over an hour earlier, so I lucked out catching that bus. This 3 hour plus bus ride was through city, country, and then along the ocean. I saw many men peeing along the road, a placed called Ghollywood at the side of the road, markets with vibrant colors that in contrast to all the dust coated tin roofs seemed surreal. I saw what seemed like untouched land, and flooded towns near the ocean. The man next to me explained that those places flood each year and the people leave and then move back when the waters subside. I saw women carrying eggs, mash, fruit, kabobs, and peanuts on their heads rushing the bus as we stopped. People piled off the bus the relieve themselves and purchase goods. The bus stalled, ground gears, and backfired all along the trip, it was great! I loved it.

At the boarder the bus pulled into a compound and since my bags were piled in the back of the bus with 1,000 rolls of toilet paper, literally!!! The bus driver would not open the back doors of the bus, instead insisted that my bags should be unloaded out of the front door of the bus. I felt that was foolish. The next thing I knew these women congregated and began to unload all T.P. out the back of the bus, so sure enough when a man yelled as them to stop they turn and unload all my bags. I caught on quickly that they were just there to make a buck and expected to be paid for work even though they were not hired. When they saw all my of my bags and me they point and laugh and it was horrible. Then they want me to pay them to carry my bags. I felt their nerve to mock me and then want my money was too much, even though it’s just Africa I refused. I then strapped my bags together and pulled them. A second crowd of women gathered and wanted to help. This time a man who spoke English asked me why I just didn’t hire someone to carry the bags. In the end those women carried my bags and this man supervised the whole crossing, he said because he didn’t want anything except me to be safe. I am a sucker, but he at least had a sense of humor and joked and told people I was his wife. The 100 yards to the boarder was a blur of officials, people crossing, huge trucks, and then under all the noise I knew the ocean waves were crashing too. I remember thinking that I was missing all the beauty around me, but I had to keep my eyes and senses alter for now. It was chaos with added stress of people ordering me around and demanding money. My friend pointed the way and broke it down to me when my bags were searched because I didn’t pay enough of a bribe. He pointed out all the checkpoints I had to go through (Ghana exit stamp, Ghana customs bribe, Togo Immigration, Togo customs, and the crossing bribe too). Please don’t forget paying the women who carried my bags, and both men I had to pay to use their phones to call my principal.
I’d never met my principal before but I knew when I saw the Iranian man approaching that I had pictured him wrong in my head. We got my bags loaded and my so called good willed friend asked my principal for a bribe. My western sense of right and wrong was angry as I watched this from inside the car. It just comes with the territory and no one thinks that way here.
My principal took me to the school to drop off my bags, later I would find out I would live at the Primary School compound and work at the Kindergarten Compound down the street. I was taken directly to his house where his mom had made lunch and his mom and dad and he and I ate lunch and talked. Their family story is so interesting but they settled here in Lome almost 30 years ago to serve the community. I enjoyed meeting them and then returned to the compound where I live and unpacked. Right now all of our meals are prepared by a Togolese woman who works here and cleans and whatnot. It’s nice but I feel bad. Tomorrow my kitchen stuff should arrive and I can start shopping and cooking on my own or with my roommate. I meant to take a walk too but it gets dark at 6:20pm as we are so close to the equator. There is almost exactly 12 hours of daylight and dark. I did manage to find free wi-fi on the roof of the compound and sent the e-mail to everyone that I had arrived. I think that it’s what I expected in many ways but better in others. I’m glad I am here.

So my journey here is complete and I begin my teaching journey now. Pictures will be loaded soon.