Jalyn and I recently received the good news that we'll be staying in Africa a bit longer than originally expected.
The Gates Foundation grant I was writing with TechnoServe in Kenya was recently approved (yea!) and as a result, the project will be kicking off around the beginning of the year. The manager I was working with in Kenya who was lead author on the grant asked if I'd be interested in coming back to lead the kick-off process as Mobilization Manager. After some discussion with Jalyn, it was clear this would be a good opportunity (for both of us) and that we should do it. The contract is short, so we'll likely only be there through the end of Q1, possibly a bit longer. Afterwards, we'll be continuing on with our plans to spend some time in Tokyo or Australia, possibly contracting with former employers.
Jalyn will return to her work with the Young Women in Enterprise group at TechnoServe in Nairobi, and I'll be splitting time between Uganda and Kenya getting things rolling as we ramp up our 5 year pilot to develop the mango and passion fruit supply chains in each country.
My work with Guinness Ghana was completed yesterday (for the most part) with a presentation to the supply chain / procurement teams on a larger sorghum supply chain development strategy to achieve a commercially sustainable import-replacement alternative to barley. We're nearing the end of a several year pilot study with them that has been quite successful. They were weighing their options - interested to see what they decide. I've arranged a site tour and tasting before we leave Ghana. Looking forward to that...
Over the next few weeks I'll be interviewing fruit processors here to set the framework for a regional expansion of the Gates project in Kenya to West Africa. It will likely be a busy few weeks before work is over here, followed by some traveling in Morocco and a friend's wedding in India.
There are holidays this Friday and the following, so we'll have two 3-day weekends. I'm sure we'll have some interesting stories to tell from our journeys.
-CN
November 25, 2009
O Where O Where Has My Widow's Peak Gone?
Did I mention I recently departed with 11 inches of hair in the past couple of weeks? It was time to say goodbye to those long locks and hello to short and fun. I was a bit nervous getting my haircut in Ghana but found a great salon down one of the side streets in Osu. The woman who cut my hair did a great job and was meticulously thorough. I feel like I just entered summer with a sassy new look although it is November.
Brian also got some hairs cut. His barber, located at the Accra Mall, was also quite meticulous in shaping the length of each hair on his head. But when it came time for the very end he lost something that has defined him for as long as I've known him. Something that has been a main fixture in our relationship. He lost his widow's peak.
It was there and then it wasn't.
Everything was going smoothly, the barber was clipping and shaving at a good pace until one last quick trim by the scissors.
Snip!
And there it fell, that pointed tuft of hair, tumbling towards the floor leaving only a shadow of blunted follicles vacating its former prominent position just above the forehead.The widow's peak was no more.
The barber must have been confused as to what to do with such a grouping of hair. So what better response than to get rid of it?
The shock has worn off and Brian has come to grips with the loss. It will grow back in time and all will be right in the world once again.
While on the topic, here are some fun facts about widow's peaks:
- The term, widow's peak comes from English folklore where it was believed that this hair formation was a sign of a woman who would outlive her husband
- Leonardo DiCaprio has one
- Marilyn Monroe had one
- There's a movie with such name that came out in 1994
- And then there's the question on everyone's mind: will a person with a widow's peak married to a person with a straight hairline have a child with or without a widow's peak? Someday the world may know but until then here's another famous widow's peak.
Keanu Reeves has one......
Unfortunately Chuck Norris does not.......
November 23, 2009
And Along Came Benin
{Disclaimer: what you are about to read is very long - sorry!}
It was Benin or Bust that long weekend we created beginning with Friday the 13th. Maybe we should have started with Saturday the 14th because looking back on those three days so many things went wrong but I guess it could have been a lot worse. The plans to travel to Benin came quickly as our posse, who consisted of Brian, myself, Piotr and Laura (two friends from TNS), decided to go just a few days before leaving. Looking into the logistics of our trip Brian and I were set with Togo visas but needed some for Benin. Piotr and Laura were in need of both. Togo visas were taken care of and because of time restraints and also confirmation from our trusty guidebook confirming we could get Benin visas at the border, we all waited on the Benin visas.
Early Friday morning we found ourselves at our usual Friday hangout, the STC bus station. We boarded the bus to find it contained the most uncomfortable seats to date. It looked like an old school bus that had been converted into intercity travel excursions. This was not going to allow for any (or good) sleep on the ride to the Togo border.
A few hours and awkward sleepy head rolls later we were in Aflao. As we did last weekend, we confirmed when the STC bus would be departing to Accra on Sunday. Unfortunately this time we received a different answer, there were no buses departing on Sunday and advised one could easily grab a tro-tro anytime of day. We thought, ok, no worries it should be seamless to find a tro-tro on Sunday afternoon. So we set off for the border.
The Ghana border was no problem; we were like pros at this point. The Togo border proved similar and then we set out to have a celebration beer at our friendly Togolese border bar oasis. We found it near the crimson colored bougainvilleas spilling over the side of the bars outer wall. We were disappointed to find our bartender, Richard, was not in but were happily greeted by his brother.
After a short break we moved on to find a taxi to take us to the taxi stand on the beach front of Lome. After much haggling, which was expected, we set out for the Benin border. Everything appeared to be smooth sailing at this point; we would arrive at the Benin border around 2pm (3pm Benin time). That afternoon we planned on spending in Grand Popo and making plans for the rest of our weekend.
Arriving at the Benin border triggered the first of a series of misfortunate events. We inquired about obtaining visas and the border patrol just laughed at us. They muttered something to one another and declared we had to go back to Lome to the Benin Embassy for the visas. So much for trusting Rough Guide’s advice.
So it was back across the border into Togo to hail a taxi back to Lome, from where we just came. More haggling ensued and our car departed. The drive to Togo’s capital was long and full of traffic. It was Friday afternoon and everyone in the country was on the road. We told our taxi driver the address of the Benin Embassy, per the guidebook, but people in West Africa don’t really use street addresses, as landmarks are more prevalent. We stopped to ask several times where the embassy was located but never seemed to get any closer. At one point our driver pulled to the back of the US Embassy confusing us, wondering if he thought we wanted to visit our home base. Finally we had him call the Benin Embassy (which we should have done from the get go) and made it across town to arrive around 4pm.
It was unclear at this point if Benin was going to happen and we started pulling together Plan B for a night in Togo. But Benin proved a go after a few sad puppy dog faces and pleading with the Benin visa administrator. Brian thought an exchange of funds would be necessary but it fortunately didn’t come to that.
Around 5:30pm we had Benin visas in hand and it was time to head east for the border (again). It was well after dark when we arrived which was a little nerve racking as border towns present an air of uneasiness and urgency to pass through. Nevertheless we knew exactly where to go and found ourselves on Benin soil around 8pm local time.
The next step was to find a taxi to take us to the Awali Plage hotel in Grand Popo. The taxi situation proved very frustrating and challenging in Benin relative to Togo and Ghana. The concept of shared taxis, cramming 6 people not including the driver into one vehicle was customary. However, because of time and security we wanted to find a taxi we could hire for the 4 of us to take directly to the hotel. We thought we had one but not one minute down the road and the taxi driver pulled over to a group of 3 or 4 large women. We were infuriated, knowing he was charging us a premium and promising it would only be us 4. We stormed out of the vehicle and told the driver this was unacceptable. The language barrier (Benin is a Francophone country) made it seem like we were objecting to the women entering the car who also perceived it that way. Trying to explain to the women and the driver that what we had agreed upon wasn’t being followed proved difficult but finally seemed to make itself clear.
The driver took off with the women and we had to find another car. One was found after some more wearisome haggling and we were on our way to the hotel. So happy to pull into the hotel’s parking lot we jumped out of the car. The driver persisted on trying to get more money from us despite agreeing upon a price beforehand and reluctantly gave the correct amount of change after some coercing.
We headed up to the main reception area, located at the restaurant/bar. The guys settled into some chairs while Laura and I inquired about rooms for the night. Note: prior to departing for Benin we tried several times to call the hotel to make reservations but to no avail. They never picked up. Who would have thought they would have no rooms available!?! It was one thing after another….. We were starving and had dinner while trying to figure out where we were going to lay our sleepy heads that night.
The bartender and wait staff were very helpful in calling around to other hotels for vacancies but nothing came of it unfortunately. After some time a woman in the restaurant came up to Brian telling him of an available nearby guesthouse. She was apparently affiliated with Awali Plage and heard of our circumstances so offered us a place to stay for a cheaper price. We were interested in seeing the place before agreeing to anything so she said she would drive us over.
The guesthouse was not far down the road and could have been reached on foot if we had known exactly where it was located. The gentleman who slept in one of the rooms downstairs showed us the three available rooms upstairs. They were perfect. Each one was like new and came with a bathroom, bed and ceiling fan. Not quite the Awali Plage but just the resting place we needed from our hectic day.
The next morning started around 8:30am. Walking out onto the balcony adjoining our three rooms we enjoyed a magnificent view of a beach hugging the waters of the Gulf of Guinea. To our left sat a small village full of thatched roof huts and people going about their morning routines; a mother playing with her young children in her backyard.
It was time for breakfast back at the Awali Plage and because it wasn’t far we chose to walk. As we walked the dark clouds seen brewing overhead dumped a bit of rain on us. The light sprinkle wasn’t too detrimental. On our way we noticed a sign that read, ‘Obama Beach’ and to our left one boldly painted in red letters, ‘La Patience’. Ironic how that sign would represent the sense of fortitude needed throughout the rest of the weekend.
Breakfast was had, nothing too spectacular to mention except it came ripe with little Nescafe packets, the only and always disappointing coffee of choice. Some women working locally with an organization called Mercy Ships, chatted us up about our reasons for being there and gave some helpful advice on how to plan the rest of our day.
First, it was off to the stilt village of Ganvie but on our way we would stop at a crafts center in the dust filled city of Cotonou where bandanas and masks could be seen saving people’s air passages from the even layer of grime in the air. For about an hour we browsed and negotiated then came away with lovely trinkets representative of Benin and other West African countries. To get to the stilt village the guidebook suggested we grab a boat from the Hotel du Lac in Cotonou so that’s exactly where we headed.
The front desk at the hotel was very unhelpful. We inquired about the boat to Ganvie and they said the gentleman in charge of the boat had just gone out and wouldn’t be back until late. We asked about other options and were told there were none. We tried to clarify about other options outside of their services and they said there were none. Essentially that was their version of the Ghanaian, ‘it’s finished.’
We knew the stilt village wasn’t ‘finished’ and hailed a taxi to take us there directly. It took some time to find one that didn’t consist of a team of motorbikes. Given our recent purchases at the arts center it was best to be inside a vehicle not scooting along the back of one (although quite fun!). After some quibbling in broken French and agreement to a steep rate we were on our way to the village. The traffic was horrific and it took about an hour.
We arrived around 4pm, purchased our tickets, and then found ourselves sailing along the calm waters of what’s said to be Africa’s largest lake village. On the murky colored waters on the northwest side of Lac Nokoue, boats adorned with meshed patchwork sails floated around us. There was a bit of bailing out excess water on the way but never enough to present any real danger.
Despite having paid a fair price for the outing our captain stated that for an additional fee he would gladly give us a descriptive tour of the surroundings. We thought it best to enjoy the view in tranquility and declined his offer.
We glided up to the village that was an assortment of small houses supported on stilts carved out by narrow waterways. We initially passed by a red wooden souvenir shop that doubled as a bar, thinking our captain would weave us in and out of the water passages. Not so. With our nose swiftly pointed towards our place of embarkation after only a short jaunt behind the souvenir shop we told him we were interested in having a drink after all. We didn’t want to leave this amazing sight too quickly.
While three of us enjoyed our beverages peering out onto the main water channel, one fed the hoarding instinct burning inside for more African masks. I won’t name any names….but you can probably guess who this refers to. For a nominal fee I was able to get photos of a young girl skulking on the boardwalk close by as well as a boy commandeering a boat up to the shop’s watery steps. It is common for locals to shy away from cameras, as it is perceived a photo will take away one’s soul. Sometimes you will find people who do allow you to take their photo but won’t look directly at the camera. The children I met had no reservations on either.
After our beverage break that we shared with our captain and other boat mate as well as a successful mask purchase we were back in the vessel cruising towards the shore. As we drifted and paddled forward, the sky put on a show full of vibrant reds, oranges and purples emanating from the pulsating sunset. It was a peaceful evening in Ganvie.
Our taxi driver was waiting for us after we said our goodbyes to the captain and his first mate. It was off to dinner at a restaurant called Pili Pili located in Cotonou. For about 3 hours we enjoyed a lovely meal laced with good conversations allowing us all to get to know one another better. For future reference, if you’re going to Pili Pili and order the vegetarian dish, which is not on the menu but was excitedly offered by our waiter, do know it only consists of one-part French fries and two parts friend plantains. Albeit very tasty not the vegetarian delicacy implied by the server.
It was encroaching upon 10:00pm and we had at least one hour’s drive back to Grand Popo to the Awali Plage where we had left our luggage and confirmed earlier that morning our reservations for 3 rooms. We employed the help of the restaurant in finding us a taxi to Grand Popo. They recommended we take one to the taxi station close by and then get another one from there. After some time a taxi pulled up and we jumped in for the short ride down the road. It was just 5 minutes later when we were pulling away from a stop at a traffic light, and a guy reached his hand through the car window trying to grab the bag sitting in Brian’s lap. Luckily Brian clutched the bag tight enough and the guy was not successful. What a relief as the backpack contained both of our cameras, my passport and both of Piotr’s passports. After this shake up, it was only a short jog down the road and we were at the taxi station.
It got even more hectic as the night went on. When we got out of the car, a group of men all began working with and against each other to find us a ride. It was difficult to explain in French that we only wanted a non-shared taxi for 4 people to Grand Popo (for security measures). At first we were escorted into a car, which didn’t have working door handles, and had two people sitting in the front seat. Brian helped them get out. Next we were told to get out of that car and walk down the road to another car that was going to Grand Popo. As we walked down the street we noticed we were missing someone, Piotr was no longer following.
In the heat of the moment, terrible thoughts ran across my mind and I could see the same thing brewing in Laura’s. We stopped immediately with Brian and headed back to the first car. We found Piotr standing next to it looking concerned. As we rounded the front, we confirmed he was ok as he explained he was looking for his missing camera. At some point it had slipped out of the pocket of his shorts.
Over the next 10 to 15 minutes we looked for the camera, which was not to be found and searched for a car to take us to Grand Popo. One finally agreed for an outrageous fee and we struggled to communicate that a camera had been lost and that we needed to check back at the restaurant up the street before going to our hotel. Once understood, this amounted to an additional hefty price tag but at this point we had no choice, it was getting late.
Back to Pili Pili but no camera was recovered. It had most likely been left in the taxi car coming from the restaurant or possibly swiped on the street; it was unclear. From here we finally headed to Grand Popo. Getting out of the taxi at the hotel, the driver tried one last time to squeeze more money out of us. He didn’t succeed but ended up with a nice amount for the hour’s drive.
Laura ran up to the reception area to locate our bags and get the keys to our rooms. It was about 12:45am and neither the bags nor hotel staff were anywhere to be found. We inquired with the security guard at the front gate about our bags and the keys but he said everyone was gone.
For the next 30 to 40 minutes we tried all possible avenues of getting into our rooms or at least getting to our luggage. The guard, reluctant for fear of getting in trouble, phoned the hotel manager who ended up hanging up on us in mid-conversation. He showed us the manager’s quarters but several attempts at waking him through knocks on the door also failed. We had run out of options. The guard suggested we go to another hotel up the street. However, it was not within walking distance and there was little chance at finding another taxi this time of night. Besides, the hotel had our luggage.
So it was snuggle time with the hotel’s lawn chairs surrounding the swimming pool. We doused ourselves in bug repellant then went for a quick walk on the beach to blow off some steam. The stars were glorious in the night sky and the sound of the waves would soon lull us to sleep.
Laura and I came back from the beach first and as we walked towards the pool somebody called out to us. We were so shocked to find 3 men looking around the area. They said they were security guards and were checking the grounds. In broken French (flavored with a bit of unintentional Spanish, the language she does know) Laura explained our situation. Surprisingly, the guys soon got to work making sure we were going to be comfortable in our makeshift beds. Just as they were laying tablecloths out as sheets the guys came up. We told the guards they were with us and they continued rearranging the lawn chairs.
It wasn’t long until we were snoozing away under the palm trees. To our delight the bugs seemed nonexistent and fortunately because our bottle of bug spray wound up missing. So there we were, at a hotel that came highly recommended, sleeping next to its’ swimming pool.
Morning comes quickly when you’re sleeping outside. Brian was the first one up and went off to read at the restaurant. I joined him not long after and noticed he was sitting with our luggage. The first thing I did was pop out my contacts to give my poor eyes the oxygen they’d been deprived of overnight. Soon thereafter Piotr and Laura joined us.
We all got washed up at the showers outside the swimming pool area then had some coffee. One of the ladies working at the hotel said to me as I waited for Brian to finish his shower that our rooms were available to use instead of the pool facilities. I told her we didn’t have rooms we slept by the pool. She just gave me a funny look.
As we waited for our bill at breakfast, with the unrealistic hopes that it would be on the house given the night we just had, a waiter brought us a bill for our rooms. Our cheeks burned from the slap in the face. With controlled rage Brian immediately asked to see the manager. He walked over to the overweight owner sipping his morning coffee and explained to him that it was completely absurd to expect us to pay for rooms we didn’t occupy let alone put up with the lack of customer service he provided the night before. It didn’t take too much more to convince him, he waived the bill (surprisingly and fortunately for him because he probably didn’t realize that was Chuck Norris he was talking to).
Wanting to leave the vicinity and go on with our day as fast as we could we set out for Ouida, a nearby voodoo village. The thoughts of just heading back to Accra crossed our minds but we weren’t going to let the circumstances prevent us from exploring Benin. So we jumped in a shared taxi en route to Ouida.
Ouida provided a glimpse into Benin’s voodoo culture with its Python Temple and fetish sculptures scattered about the town. The architecture was similar to that of Togo with an orange rusty colonial style decaying down the side streets. Laura, Brian and I all wrapped a python around our necks and entered a snake pit to see the slithering beasts scattered about the floor.
A large Catholic church protruded through the sky across the street from the python temple. We took photos in front of a large tree centered round-a-bout displaying carvings representative of a melded history between Christianity and voodoo. Down a few blocks we visited a museum hosting exhibits on the slave trade as well as the voodoo culture.
Next we hopped on motorbikes to return to the taxi station to hire a taxi back to Grand Popo. We had to retrieve our luggage we left at the hotel and then it was off to the border. Making our way through the Benin border was seamless. After a few CD purchases of local music we were in a taxi back to Lome.
It was good to be back in Togo and before reaching the border with Ghana we stopped at a lovely restaurant called L-Meze, which served up some wonderful Lebanese food and was the perfect dinner to fill our stomachs before the long journey back to Accra.
Our taxi driver waited while we ate and then zipped us over to the border where we crossed again on foot. From there several taxi drivers were soliciting us with their private, air-conditioned cars. We took into account their prices, which seemed pretty high but still moved on to check out the tro-tro station that had been our original plan.
Laura and I waited at the tro-tro station with our bags while Brian and Piotr scouted out the best deal for a hired car. As we waited a couple of tro-tros pulled forward and filled up within minutes. It wasn’t exactly clear where the mass of people came from but in no time we had to pass on at least two vans. One of the tro-tro drivers said he had saved Laura and I seats in the front of the vehicle but he could no longer hold them, as they had to depart for Accra. We thanked him kindly for his generosity and said we’d see him back in the city.
As the tro-tro began to leave it started to sprinkle. Seconds later a torrential downpour ensued. Just as a market woman was helping us with our bags, ready to lead us to shelter, a car pulled up and its door flew open. A voice from inside said get in and we noticed it was Brian and Piotr just in time!
The drive back to Accra was lengthy and wet. The rain was heavy and the car stuffy with little ventilation. Everyone took turns dozing in and out, tired from the crazy weekend in Benin. It had been three long days filled with frustration and challenges but proved to be an expedition richly soaked with fun and adventure.
Note: the streak of bad luck didn't quite end that night. Piotr left his souvenirs in the taxi but was able to retrieve them a couple of days later.
C’est la vie...
November 20, 2009
Hello Togo!
It seems like ages since we took our trip to Togo. So much has happened over the last couple of weeks, some of which has prevented me from sharing our adventures in a timely manner (and the withdrawal has been brutal!) but I will get to those stories in a little bit because Togo needs its time in the limelight.
I believe it all started back at that STC bus station, the one that was 'finished' a week prior to our journey and Togo was a nogo. Well the bus wasn't finished on Friday, November 6th it was just severely late. So late that we postponed our departure until the next morning.
As we had waited for the bus to arrive, two elderly women asked us where we were headed. When we answered with, "Aflao" they shook their heads saying "Oh no no don't go tonight, it will be dark when you arrive". This immediately triggered the high voltage security system I installed in my brain before coming to Africa. If these two local Ghanaian women were advising us to take the bus in the morning well who were we to argue?
Brian, being the riskier of us two, decided to step aside and think about our options over a Sprite. He could sense the alarm was ringing loudly in my head so there was no point in asking what I thought. He sipped the soda then agreed there was no reason to interfere with this divine intervention and that we would go in the morning.
So another successfully wasted Friday afternoon was had at the bus station. But before heading back to the apartment we decided to make our way through the surrounding Makola Market and ended up with some produce for dinner. While weaving in and out of the dirt walkways, some local market mamas wanted to know what we were making, was it soup or stew? The only two logical options of course. We blurted out "stew!" not having much thought as to what kind of stew. At that point, ladies from different stalls were excitedly telling us what to add to our stew mixture: tomatoes, okra (got to have okra), peppers, onions and you must have this fishy thing! We happily abided and bought up a bundle of goods for our Makola Market stew special.
In preparing our stew at home that evening, everything was going fine until Brian unwrapped the smelly small rectangular piece of fish substance. The aroma permeated the entire kitchen and then seeped out into the living room. I thought it was bad but Brian thought it would get better once it was cooked. Well, all that needs to be said is, after a few gags on my part and several rounds of incense burning I ended up eating cereal and Brian forged through a plate of only vegetables and rice. The fish swam away down the toilet never to be smelled again.
Now to Togo! The next morning came early as we awoke at 4:30am and departed for our beloved bus station. We arrived and purchased our tickets. Brian hand-shook-snapped an MTN guy - people know us there. We boarded the bus and got cozy in our seats. It was going to be about a 4 hour ride to the border.
We slept a bit on the way. The ride wasn't so bad, we made a few stops here and there to let people off in their respective villages. The scenery changed as we got closer to the border, views of rivers and lagoons and people fishing for their catch of the day.
We arrived in Aflao around 10:30am and it was indeed a border town, busy and bustling with activity. We confirmed when the bus would depart on Monday, the day we'd head back to Accra. And then we set off on foot. The border was very close, not far down the dirt road with a blue archway with a black star of Ghana wishing us a cheerful goodbye. The Ghana visa office was air-conditioned with several people dressed in uniform assisting those coming in and out of the country. We filled out our forms, ended up having to pay an additional 40 cedi each as our passport stamps had expired and we had overstayed our time in Ghana by just a week. At first it seemed like a scam but realized it was legit.
Ghana border - check.
Now onto the Togo border. A border checkpoint can really say a lot about a country. We made our way through a dilapidated wooden lean-two to arrive around the corner at a gentleman sitting behind a desk under the shade in the sweltering heat to fill out our passport forms.
Togo border - simple yet hassle-free.
And we're in! Our guidebook recommended we get our bearings and out of the border noise by tucking away into a small bar not far off the main road. We couldn't find the specific bar but ended up finding a lovely backyard oasis that allowed for a peaceful refuge from the dozens of taxi drivers trying to escort us into their vehicles.
A celebration beer was shared as we planned our next steps. The owner (Richard) of the residence which served as a bar/restaurant/hotel, was very kind and helped us find a taxi that took us to the central taxi stand in Lome. After a bit of haggling from taxi drivers situated just off the beach we were on our way, about a 45 min. drive, to Hotel Le Lac in Agbodrafo.
We got settled in at the hotel which was a beautiful compound facing the banks of Lake Togo. Brian impressively communicated in the bit of French he recalled from those way back years. Togo is a francophone country so going in he knew he had to represent our team in a la francais.
We enjoyed a lovely french influenced lunch of baguette sandwiches and locally brewed Flag beers. We referred to our guidebook to dictate what the afternoon would hold for us. It was off to Togoville and the best way to get there was by boat. We arranged a water transport at the hotel and left the shore around 4pm. Arriving on the shores of Togoville a guide immediately escorted us to the tourist agency located next to the souvenir shop. We were told that if we wanted a guided tour of the village it would be 6,500 CFA per person! Ridiculous! Our guidebook said pay no more than 1500 CFA total (approximately $3). We declined without hesitation and said we would just show ourselves around, it was a small village and we knew what we wanted to see. This seemed to shock the two men running the tourism booth. I showed them the guidebook suggestion and they muttered something in french.
We left them and took off to show ourselves Togoville. Just as we rounded the corner a guy came by and slyly said he would show us around for 2000 CFA. We agreed and he proceeded to give us half-attempted tour of the town. (I guess that's what you get when you don't pay the 'big men' what they want).
Moving along, we peered into the large imposing Catholic church to find hoards of people camping out inside and out. Coincidentally we were there the same day the annual celebration of Pope John Paul's visit to Togoville was taking place. Apparently in the 1970's there was a sighting of the Virgin Mary walking across Lake Togo which prompted the visit.
We continued on and wound through the small village noticing its rusty sunset orange color. We came upon a few voodoo fetish shrines dedicated to fertility. The first one was situated near a house and was clearly the male fetish. Just a block or two down we found the female fetish locked up in a temple. She looked more fierce than her counterpart adorning spikes that jutted all which ways out of her body.
Brian was just about to take a photo of me next to the spiky woman when all of a sudden some nearby children ran over to me. Next thing I know, I am surrounded by cute little smiles standing next me while I'm taking a photo next to a fertility shrine - woah - does this thing really work? Too funny!
The tour didn't provide much more after that so we headed to the souvenir shop and purchased a few little somethings. The sun had just set and we needed to find our boat to get back to the hotel. Enjoying the beautiful colors the sky treated us over the calm waters we were back at Hotel Le Lac by dark.
The next morning we enjoyed a lovely basket of croissants and pot of coffee. I could get used to this french thing! We walked through our day with goals of seeing more of the voodoo culture we heard thrived in Togo. So it was first off to Aneho and a small village just north called Glidji.
Aneho was a quite sleepy town that Sunday morning. We had our taxi driver drop us off at the St. Peter and Paul church which we were surprised to find completely empty. From there we walked towards the main road passing by market stalls that would be full and busy the following day. There was an older woman preparing coconuts and we partook in some coconut juice.
The beach buffered against the Gulf of Guinea wasn't far and as we ventured towards it we took in the architectural remnants of Togo's colonial past. Several buildings stood slowly decaying with time providing a glimpse into the tough past. Back on the main road through Aneho we crossed over a bridge hovering over a lagoon spilling out into the ocean. Around the bend we located a lovely oasis called L'Oasis (perfect) and ate lunch and got out of the sun for a bit.
Our only 'must do' for the day besides explore was to find an EcoBank ATM to pay our hotel fee the next day (cash only). We were told it would most likely be closed but decided to pass by it since it was on our way to the voodoo village. Along the road we found another church with a school and a cemetery in the back. Not much more to see so we continued down the main road. The EcoBank was in our sights and we decided to give it a try. Not sure what folks were talking about because it was open for business and our only task completed.
It was time to see some voodoo so we went back to L'Oasis and flagged down two taxis. Two motorbikes rolled up and we hopped on telling them to take us to Glidji. Now taxis in Togo are motorbikes, sure there are some cars which we took from Lome to the hotel but the majority of people get around via motorbike. And it is so fun - I can see why!
We sped along the small streets and pulled up to an archway which appeared to lead to the voodoo temple we were seeking. All of a sudden some local guys came running saying that we had to pay a visit to the chief before we could enter the voodoo shrine. We heard about paying respects to the chief from our guidebook but thought it optional - it wasn't.
Expecting to meet some great warrior dressed in impressive Togolese chief-like garb we were a bit disappointed. The chief was sitting on a white lawnchair under a tree dressed in khakis and a t-shirt. Not quite the image we had anticipated. He had a few cronies next to him who spoke on the chief's behalf. Brian graciously attempted to communicate in French but was quickly stopped by one of the groupies and asked to speak in English while one of our motorbike drivers would translate. It was then decided that our motorbike driver would translate throughout the Glidji tour (obviously having no choice as this was an order from the chief).
Before embarking on our journey to all things voodoo we had to pay a small token for our appreciation to the chief and his village of 5000 CFA (~$10). Then we were taken to a pavilion that was marked with an entrance archway that had a large eye blazoned on the top. I thought of Lord of the Rings at that moment (probably not appropriate).
We went inside the arena and sat down on a bench. From the right corner of the pavilion a man came forth only wearing a sarong and lots of muscles. Someone you wouldn't want to mess with. He greeted us and asked if we wanted to see the voodoo shrine. We said yes so he asked us to take off our shoes. We took off our shoes. Then he said now take off your shirts. Ummmmm..... I looked at Brian and all of the other men standing around us and said, "I'm just going to sit this one out but Brian you go ahead." Brian already had his shirt off at this point, ready to see the power lurking behind the pavilion's doors. The jacked gentleman said he could give me a wrap to wear but it was unclear if that was to cover me or to wear around my waist. I decided not to chance it and let the male part of Team Feth go forward with the camera.
So there they went, the gang of shirtless men towards the temple. They stopped just in front and the muscle-bound man talked for a few minutes. Brian took some photos, one guy pointed at something and then they turned around and came back. What?! Huh?!
Brian was just as confused. He said later that they explained that the power lived behind the walls they were looking at and that every September they have a huge festival celebrating the voodoo fetish. And that was it. Good thing I kept my shirt on!
There wasn't more to the village than the temple but we did want to scoot around a bit more on the motorbikes so our taxis drove us around the countryside. What a beautiful green lush place. We saw a man casting his net out into a waterway just next to a bridge we were standing on.
We decided to take our taxis all the way back to our hotel in Agbodrafo. It was about a 25 minute drive but we had made such good friends and the motorbikes were so sweet we couldn't resist. As we drove along the main road in Togo we were flagged down at a tollbooth to pull off to the side by one of the guards. A police officer, who appeared to be under the influence of something that causes one's eyes to glaze over - you be the judge of which substance, asked us for our passports. He flipped through them hastily and then asked us for our vaccination cards. Luckily we had them with our passports and then he asked his buddy to come over to assist. His buddy didn't give him much help knowing the officer had nothing on us. The officer persisted by asking us how long our vaccinations were good for, "10 years sir" we replied. The other officer shrugged us off and then finally we were told to go.
As we paid our motorbike drivers their fare the one who had been our interpretaor at the village asked us if we had anything to give them to remember us by. I looked through my backpack and all I had was a keychain flashlight and a leather bookmark from Kenya. We passed them over saying this was all we had and the keychain flashlight was happily taken. Not so sure if the bookmark will get much use but he took it anyway.
That evening we celebrated our wonderful day in Togo with some beers at sunset. The sun cast magnificent silhouettes of people in taxi boats going to and from Togoville. Later that night we enjoyed a lovely dinner at the hotel restaurant. As we were ordering our food Brian asked the waitress about the special of the day. The waitress, said the name of the dish in french but Brian nor I recognized the name. So the waitress proceeded to act out how the animal looked. She put her hands above her head for the ears and then did a small hippity-hop and placed her hand low to the ground indicating it was a small creature. For some reason we didn't get it at the moment and guessed it to be lamb. Brian decided he'd give it a try. She brought us our meals and as we were enjoying them Brian mentioned that his meat consisted of very tiny bones and it couldn't be lamb. It was rabbit! Oh of course, the long ears and the hippity-hop! When our waitress came by to take our plates we made the long ear signal and the hop with our hands and she just laughed! The universal hand gestures one uses when we can't communicate verbally.
Monday morning came and we wanted to do one last thing before heading back to Accra. We were surprised to find a lack of opportunities to purchase souvenirs as we drove around on motorbikes yesterday so we wanted to head back to Togoville's souvenir shop. We boated over around 9am and purchased our fill of voodoo dolls and awesome masks and then were on our way to the Togo/Ghana border.
We made it back in to Ghana no problem and arrived to the Aflao bus station with an hour to spare. The bus ride home took quite a bit longer as the bus had some mechanical problems and stopped over 4 times. At one point the bus driver asked if somebody had a knife. We waited out the stops and finally made it to Accra around 6pm. Glad to be home we showered, ate a home-cooked meal and went to bed.
Our trip to Togo was lovely. The people were very friendly and did not hassle us in any way which was a pleasant reprieve from Ghana. The countryside was beautiful and way of life simple. Togo - do go!
I believe it all started back at that STC bus station, the one that was 'finished' a week prior to our journey and Togo was a nogo. Well the bus wasn't finished on Friday, November 6th it was just severely late. So late that we postponed our departure until the next morning.
As we had waited for the bus to arrive, two elderly women asked us where we were headed. When we answered with, "Aflao" they shook their heads saying "Oh no no don't go tonight, it will be dark when you arrive". This immediately triggered the high voltage security system I installed in my brain before coming to Africa. If these two local Ghanaian women were advising us to take the bus in the morning well who were we to argue?
Brian, being the riskier of us two, decided to step aside and think about our options over a Sprite. He could sense the alarm was ringing loudly in my head so there was no point in asking what I thought. He sipped the soda then agreed there was no reason to interfere with this divine intervention and that we would go in the morning.
So another successfully wasted Friday afternoon was had at the bus station. But before heading back to the apartment we decided to make our way through the surrounding Makola Market and ended up with some produce for dinner. While weaving in and out of the dirt walkways, some local market mamas wanted to know what we were making, was it soup or stew? The only two logical options of course. We blurted out "stew!" not having much thought as to what kind of stew. At that point, ladies from different stalls were excitedly telling us what to add to our stew mixture: tomatoes, okra (got to have okra), peppers, onions and you must have this fishy thing! We happily abided and bought up a bundle of goods for our Makola Market stew special.
In preparing our stew at home that evening, everything was going fine until Brian unwrapped the smelly small rectangular piece of fish substance. The aroma permeated the entire kitchen and then seeped out into the living room. I thought it was bad but Brian thought it would get better once it was cooked. Well, all that needs to be said is, after a few gags on my part and several rounds of incense burning I ended up eating cereal and Brian forged through a plate of only vegetables and rice. The fish swam away down the toilet never to be smelled again.
Now to Togo! The next morning came early as we awoke at 4:30am and departed for our beloved bus station. We arrived and purchased our tickets. Brian hand-shook-snapped an MTN guy - people know us there. We boarded the bus and got cozy in our seats. It was going to be about a 4 hour ride to the border.
We slept a bit on the way. The ride wasn't so bad, we made a few stops here and there to let people off in their respective villages. The scenery changed as we got closer to the border, views of rivers and lagoons and people fishing for their catch of the day.
We arrived in Aflao around 10:30am and it was indeed a border town, busy and bustling with activity. We confirmed when the bus would depart on Monday, the day we'd head back to Accra. And then we set off on foot. The border was very close, not far down the dirt road with a blue archway with a black star of Ghana wishing us a cheerful goodbye. The Ghana visa office was air-conditioned with several people dressed in uniform assisting those coming in and out of the country. We filled out our forms, ended up having to pay an additional 40 cedi each as our passport stamps had expired and we had overstayed our time in Ghana by just a week. At first it seemed like a scam but realized it was legit.
Ghana border - check.
Now onto the Togo border. A border checkpoint can really say a lot about a country. We made our way through a dilapidated wooden lean-two to arrive around the corner at a gentleman sitting behind a desk under the shade in the sweltering heat to fill out our passport forms.
Togo border - simple yet hassle-free.
And we're in! Our guidebook recommended we get our bearings and out of the border noise by tucking away into a small bar not far off the main road. We couldn't find the specific bar but ended up finding a lovely backyard oasis that allowed for a peaceful refuge from the dozens of taxi drivers trying to escort us into their vehicles.
A celebration beer was shared as we planned our next steps. The owner (Richard) of the residence which served as a bar/restaurant/hotel, was very kind and helped us find a taxi that took us to the central taxi stand in Lome. After a bit of haggling from taxi drivers situated just off the beach we were on our way, about a 45 min. drive, to Hotel Le Lac in Agbodrafo.
We got settled in at the hotel which was a beautiful compound facing the banks of Lake Togo. Brian impressively communicated in the bit of French he recalled from those way back years. Togo is a francophone country so going in he knew he had to represent our team in a la francais.
We enjoyed a lovely french influenced lunch of baguette sandwiches and locally brewed Flag beers. We referred to our guidebook to dictate what the afternoon would hold for us. It was off to Togoville and the best way to get there was by boat. We arranged a water transport at the hotel and left the shore around 4pm. Arriving on the shores of Togoville a guide immediately escorted us to the tourist agency located next to the souvenir shop. We were told that if we wanted a guided tour of the village it would be 6,500 CFA per person! Ridiculous! Our guidebook said pay no more than 1500 CFA total (approximately $3). We declined without hesitation and said we would just show ourselves around, it was a small village and we knew what we wanted to see. This seemed to shock the two men running the tourism booth. I showed them the guidebook suggestion and they muttered something in french.
We left them and took off to show ourselves Togoville. Just as we rounded the corner a guy came by and slyly said he would show us around for 2000 CFA. We agreed and he proceeded to give us half-attempted tour of the town. (I guess that's what you get when you don't pay the 'big men' what they want).
Moving along, we peered into the large imposing Catholic church to find hoards of people camping out inside and out. Coincidentally we were there the same day the annual celebration of Pope John Paul's visit to Togoville was taking place. Apparently in the 1970's there was a sighting of the Virgin Mary walking across Lake Togo which prompted the visit.
We continued on and wound through the small village noticing its rusty sunset orange color. We came upon a few voodoo fetish shrines dedicated to fertility. The first one was situated near a house and was clearly the male fetish. Just a block or two down we found the female fetish locked up in a temple. She looked more fierce than her counterpart adorning spikes that jutted all which ways out of her body.
Brian was just about to take a photo of me next to the spiky woman when all of a sudden some nearby children ran over to me. Next thing I know, I am surrounded by cute little smiles standing next me while I'm taking a photo next to a fertility shrine - woah - does this thing really work? Too funny!
The tour didn't provide much more after that so we headed to the souvenir shop and purchased a few little somethings. The sun had just set and we needed to find our boat to get back to the hotel. Enjoying the beautiful colors the sky treated us over the calm waters we were back at Hotel Le Lac by dark.
The next morning we enjoyed a lovely basket of croissants and pot of coffee. I could get used to this french thing! We walked through our day with goals of seeing more of the voodoo culture we heard thrived in Togo. So it was first off to Aneho and a small village just north called Glidji.
Aneho was a quite sleepy town that Sunday morning. We had our taxi driver drop us off at the St. Peter and Paul church which we were surprised to find completely empty. From there we walked towards the main road passing by market stalls that would be full and busy the following day. There was an older woman preparing coconuts and we partook in some coconut juice.
The beach buffered against the Gulf of Guinea wasn't far and as we ventured towards it we took in the architectural remnants of Togo's colonial past. Several buildings stood slowly decaying with time providing a glimpse into the tough past. Back on the main road through Aneho we crossed over a bridge hovering over a lagoon spilling out into the ocean. Around the bend we located a lovely oasis called L'Oasis (perfect) and ate lunch and got out of the sun for a bit.
Our only 'must do' for the day besides explore was to find an EcoBank ATM to pay our hotel fee the next day (cash only). We were told it would most likely be closed but decided to pass by it since it was on our way to the voodoo village. Along the road we found another church with a school and a cemetery in the back. Not much more to see so we continued down the main road. The EcoBank was in our sights and we decided to give it a try. Not sure what folks were talking about because it was open for business and our only task completed.
It was time to see some voodoo so we went back to L'Oasis and flagged down two taxis. Two motorbikes rolled up and we hopped on telling them to take us to Glidji. Now taxis in Togo are motorbikes, sure there are some cars which we took from Lome to the hotel but the majority of people get around via motorbike. And it is so fun - I can see why!
We sped along the small streets and pulled up to an archway which appeared to lead to the voodoo temple we were seeking. All of a sudden some local guys came running saying that we had to pay a visit to the chief before we could enter the voodoo shrine. We heard about paying respects to the chief from our guidebook but thought it optional - it wasn't.
Expecting to meet some great warrior dressed in impressive Togolese chief-like garb we were a bit disappointed. The chief was sitting on a white lawnchair under a tree dressed in khakis and a t-shirt. Not quite the image we had anticipated. He had a few cronies next to him who spoke on the chief's behalf. Brian graciously attempted to communicate in French but was quickly stopped by one of the groupies and asked to speak in English while one of our motorbike drivers would translate. It was then decided that our motorbike driver would translate throughout the Glidji tour (obviously having no choice as this was an order from the chief).
Before embarking on our journey to all things voodoo we had to pay a small token for our appreciation to the chief and his village of 5000 CFA (~$10). Then we were taken to a pavilion that was marked with an entrance archway that had a large eye blazoned on the top. I thought of Lord of the Rings at that moment (probably not appropriate).
We went inside the arena and sat down on a bench. From the right corner of the pavilion a man came forth only wearing a sarong and lots of muscles. Someone you wouldn't want to mess with. He greeted us and asked if we wanted to see the voodoo shrine. We said yes so he asked us to take off our shoes. We took off our shoes. Then he said now take off your shirts. Ummmmm..... I looked at Brian and all of the other men standing around us and said, "I'm just going to sit this one out but Brian you go ahead." Brian already had his shirt off at this point, ready to see the power lurking behind the pavilion's doors. The jacked gentleman said he could give me a wrap to wear but it was unclear if that was to cover me or to wear around my waist. I decided not to chance it and let the male part of Team Feth go forward with the camera.
So there they went, the gang of shirtless men towards the temple. They stopped just in front and the muscle-bound man talked for a few minutes. Brian took some photos, one guy pointed at something and then they turned around and came back. What?! Huh?!
Brian was just as confused. He said later that they explained that the power lived behind the walls they were looking at and that every September they have a huge festival celebrating the voodoo fetish. And that was it. Good thing I kept my shirt on!
There wasn't more to the village than the temple but we did want to scoot around a bit more on the motorbikes so our taxis drove us around the countryside. What a beautiful green lush place. We saw a man casting his net out into a waterway just next to a bridge we were standing on.
We decided to take our taxis all the way back to our hotel in Agbodrafo. It was about a 25 minute drive but we had made such good friends and the motorbikes were so sweet we couldn't resist. As we drove along the main road in Togo we were flagged down at a tollbooth to pull off to the side by one of the guards. A police officer, who appeared to be under the influence of something that causes one's eyes to glaze over - you be the judge of which substance, asked us for our passports. He flipped through them hastily and then asked us for our vaccination cards. Luckily we had them with our passports and then he asked his buddy to come over to assist. His buddy didn't give him much help knowing the officer had nothing on us. The officer persisted by asking us how long our vaccinations were good for, "10 years sir" we replied. The other officer shrugged us off and then finally we were told to go.
As we paid our motorbike drivers their fare the one who had been our interpretaor at the village asked us if we had anything to give them to remember us by. I looked through my backpack and all I had was a keychain flashlight and a leather bookmark from Kenya. We passed them over saying this was all we had and the keychain flashlight was happily taken. Not so sure if the bookmark will get much use but he took it anyway.
That evening we celebrated our wonderful day in Togo with some beers at sunset. The sun cast magnificent silhouettes of people in taxi boats going to and from Togoville. Later that night we enjoyed a lovely dinner at the hotel restaurant. As we were ordering our food Brian asked the waitress about the special of the day. The waitress, said the name of the dish in french but Brian nor I recognized the name. So the waitress proceeded to act out how the animal looked. She put her hands above her head for the ears and then did a small hippity-hop and placed her hand low to the ground indicating it was a small creature. For some reason we didn't get it at the moment and guessed it to be lamb. Brian decided he'd give it a try. She brought us our meals and as we were enjoying them Brian mentioned that his meat consisted of very tiny bones and it couldn't be lamb. It was rabbit! Oh of course, the long ears and the hippity-hop! When our waitress came by to take our plates we made the long ear signal and the hop with our hands and she just laughed! The universal hand gestures one uses when we can't communicate verbally.
Monday morning came and we wanted to do one last thing before heading back to Accra. We were surprised to find a lack of opportunities to purchase souvenirs as we drove around on motorbikes yesterday so we wanted to head back to Togoville's souvenir shop. We boated over around 9am and purchased our fill of voodoo dolls and awesome masks and then were on our way to the Togo/Ghana border.
We made it back in to Ghana no problem and arrived to the Aflao bus station with an hour to spare. The bus ride home took quite a bit longer as the bus had some mechanical problems and stopped over 4 times. At one point the bus driver asked if somebody had a knife. We waited out the stops and finally made it to Accra around 6pm. Glad to be home we showered, ate a home-cooked meal and went to bed.
Our trip to Togo was lovely. The people were very friendly and did not hassle us in any way which was a pleasant reprieve from Ghana. The countryside was beautiful and way of life simple. Togo - do go!
November 12, 2009
Country comparisons
As a result of the demise of Jalyn's powercord (which we were told would take 10 days for a new one to arrive), I've decided to contribute to the blog in her stead. I'm not as witty, or as interesting, or as good looking, but I'll do my best. I'll let her do the update for Togo, as well as the one for Benin (this coming weekend). What I thought might be interesting to have, is a framework to compare the cultural and economic nuances of Ghana, Kenya, and some of the other countries we've been visiting against one another.
Before I go on though, I should note that a colleague (a "good morning / good evening" in the hall only kind of colleague) just stopped by my desk to say good morning and shake hands, followed by the obligatory finger snap. I somehow missed the fingersnap, which is embarrassing for both parties, and as a result we tried again (even more embarrassing for me). Again, I was unable to execute on the snap causing further embarrassment. With a final attempt, which I tried to play into an educational training session on how to do it properly (a weakly disguised attempt to reduce the embarrassment on both sides), I still missed the snap. We gave up and parted ways uneasily, somewhat less likely to great in this way again I'm guessing. I feel like such an amateur (and no, thats not me in the picture)
After returning from Togo last weekend, our Ghanaian colleagues were asking us with interest what we thought of Togo and whether we liked it better than Ghana. Similar questions about Kenya have arisen as well, with some concern about Ghana's place in Africa (I think Kenya is perceived as a primary cultural and economic competitor). My first impression and answer to these questions is that Ghana outwardly appears to be doing much better and seems to be leading the economic charge out of African poverty and into self-sustaining long-term economic viability.
Why? I'm not sure exactly since its likely a variety of factors that I see on a daily basis that in aggregate indicate things are going pretty well here in comparison. A few of these observations are as follows: 1) The clear presence of a Ghanaian middle class represented by modest homes and neighborhoods, both around the outskirts of Accra (somewhat expected around any major metropolitan area), but more surprisingly (and I believe one of the major differences between Ghana and Kenya) are the middle class neighborhoods in the country side (witnessed a nice area in the Volta region by the Akosombo Dam, (see our Volta region blog entry for pictures) which has created the biggest man made lake in the world by the way) not present in other countries we've visited. 2) the presence of other major industies other than farming (i.e., gold mining) which employ Ghanaians, as well as a significant number of expats that we meet involved in these industries (as opposed to Kenya, where the majority of expats we met were involved in aid). 3) The fact that a number of educated people we've met here have been to other countries outside of Africa, which is an impossibility for many Africans in other countries, even with a good salaried job. 4) Finally, a variety of other smaller things, like improved internet speeds, the presence of more family cars, the improved safety conditions, and finally, the fact that people can speak about the government and the police without saying the word corrupt in the same sentance. Oh yeah, and Obama came here and said they were better.
To try to flush out some of these observations into hard facts, I've pulled some figures from the CIA factbook. The comparison is as follows:
A few observations:
-The proportion of youth to the rest of the population is high for all these countries, although I was rather surprised Rwanda's wasn't disproportionately higher given the genocide occured less than 15 years ago.
-Ghana's median age is the highest, as well the percent of the population that is prime working age
-Ghana has a smaller average family size compared to the other countries
-Kenya has the highest literacy rate, which is very good news for them, but the fact that every other country is below 70% is bad news
-GDP growth rates are all low except Ghana and Rwanda, but the recession may be skewing these
-The percent of the labor force in agriculture is disproportionate to the percent of GDP, particularly in Kenya and Rwanda, suggesting the labor force may not be well utilized (or farmers need the most help here to increase yields and find markets - go TechnoServe)
-Wish the unemployment rate figures were better, but if Ghana's and Kenya's are true, wow. Very good news for Ghana
-Population in poverty is shocking for all, but Ghana's is the best
-Inflation is a problem everywhere. Tough to invest and save in a country where this is a big problem
The real litmus test may be how cool the flag looks. Its close, but Kenya wins this one, although Ghana's is pretty sweet
-CN
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