Boyfriend Road Trip to Togo
8th July 2006
Life at the Buduburum Refugee Camp can be hard at the best of
times. Even the most hardiest of souls have to have a break
every now and then.
I decided to head out on a road trip to Togo with my new boy band,
Boyfriend!, to get away for a bit.
I didn't even know Togo existed a month ago.
It turns out that Togo is a little sliver of a French-speaking country
just to the west of Ghana.
Getting There
To say I headed off for a road trip with Boyfriend! is not quite
true. The about-to-head-home Carrie
and Ciaran also joined us for the first part of our trip.
Our first priority was to exchange our cedis (Ghanaian
currency) into CFAs (Central African Franc - Togo currency) in Accra.
The cedi has got to be one of the stupidest
currencies in the world. My one New Zealand dollar buys me 5,801
cedi. The least amount of cedi I have ever paid for anything is
200 cedi ($NZ 0.03). The net result of all this is you tend to
carry a massive quantity of Ghanaian bills around with you. I have
about three million cedis hidden inside my pillow case.
We found a foreign exchange place in Accra and
we exchanged 1.3 million cedi for
seventy-five CFAs. We handed over 130 Ghanaian bills for nine Togo
bills. Silly.
We then started our first of many searches for
public transport. At one stage we were going through of one of Accra's insane public
markets. The lucky vendors had plastic seats and tables.
The unlucky vendors just stood in whatever vacant space they could find
and held their merchandise. The very unlucky vendors wandered
around with their merchandise on their head. It all made for a very
busy place.
The street vendors were quite nice to us and
not too pushy. A simple shake of the head would turn away most of
them.
One great thing about Ghanaians is that they
are always happy to give you directions. We asked many random
people about how to get to Keta - our first stop on the way to Togo -
and they were more than happy to oblige. The notable exception was
when we arrived outside of the transport terminal. A guy asked us
where we were going, we told him and he walked us all of fifty meters to
the specific place. He demanded a tip for his effort. I
guess it is how he makes his living.
We paid out ticket and boarded
our tro-tro. I had a massive backpack with me and wanted
to put it in the boot. So I did. One random guy insisted
that there was a 5,000 cedi ($NZ 0.86) charge for storing items in the
boot. The person before me didn't appear pay a charge and Ciaran
certainly
didn't pay a charge. I'm not 100% if the guy was even associated
with the tro-tro or was merely there to scam me out of money.
Sometimes you can bothered arguing over a few cents. Sometimes you
can't. This was one of the times when I couldn't be bothered.
Our first unexpected treat on
our way to Togo came in the form of a preacher who subjected the entire
tro-tro to a sermon. I usually like hearing what preachers have to
say. See what their angle is and where they are coming from.
The preacher on the tro-tro was speaking in - I assume - Twee, so I
couldn't understand a word he was saying. He was also loud, which
made it very difficult to fall into a much needed sleep.
Keta
The reasons for stopping at Keta temporarily escape me.
There is not much actually in Keta.
We had decided to stay at The
Abutia Guest House. The tro-tro dropped us off
about 500 meters from the Guest House so we had to traipse
our way back through the streets of Keta.
We were all pretty buggered from the traveling
so we collapsed in the restaurant, ordered some food and drinks and then
relaxed. I decided to order some tilapia, which was a fish that I
had had quite often in the Philippines. I thought it would be
grilled, but it came in the form of a fish
head in soup. Hmm... More Filipino than I thought.
There is not enough weird food here. I
loved eating weird stuff * in the Philippines. The
strangest thing I have eating here is a bug,
which is not as strange as it sounds. When the rainy seasons
arrives, a whole lot of bugs appear with leathery wings. The
locals were gathering them up for cooking in - I assume - stews and the
like. The kids sometimes eat them raw. I ate my raw.
So, being a little disappointed about not
eating enough weird food, I said "Hmm... I'm gonna have this eye
ball from the fish."
Matty said, "Yummy. If you eat that
then so will I."
I shrugged my shoulders, plopped the fish-eye
into my mouth, chewed for a while to gross people out, swallowed and
shrugged again. Nicole
- the gorgeous kid I lived with in the Philippines - actually considered
it a treat when she got to eat the fish eyeballs.
Matty, however, was not quite so keen. He
didn't think I would actually eat the eyeball. Trooper that he is,
Matty managed to work himself up for three minutes or so before chugging
it. Good for him. He looked a little green afterward but
managed to keep it down.
We decided to walk along Keta's main road after
dinner. It wasn't a great walk. We couldn't see much in the
dark and conversations were forever being interrupted as we moved to the
side of the road to avoid the traffic. I glanced at Nick. He
glanced at me. I pointed a thumb back in the direction we had come
from and we left the rest of them to finish their rather odd walk.
The next morning, we went out for another far
more interesting walk. We found the local wharf where fisherman
fished and market people peddled their
wares.
When we got back from our walk it was time to
say some goodbyes. Both Carrie and Ciaran had to flights to catch
that would take them back home to the U.S.A. I will particularly
miss Carrie. She is
a good person and a good friend. I hope to visit her in Vermont
once I have gathered enough money working in South Korea.
The goodbyes were cut a bit
short by a tro-tro heading in the direction of Togo. The four guys
from Boyfriend! jumped in and we were on the next stage of our adventure.
Border Crossings
I've never done a land border crossing before. It is
always been via an airplane.
On the plus side you do get two passport stamps
- one as you leave Ghana and one as you arrive in Togo - and as we all
know, he who dies with the most passport
stamps wins!
Some guys are thinking of heading north to the
countries of Burkina Faso and Mali in August. I would love to go
so that I could get more passport stamps and experience another couple
of countries that I had never heard of. I have to say no to some
adventures as my funds are ever-diminishing. I'm saying no to
Burkina Faso and Mail.
The crossing itself was fairly dull.
Suitably bored looking officials stamped us through on either side of
the border.
We jumped into a Taxi and
made the short trip to Lome, the capital city of Togo.
Lome
The border between Ghana and Togo is just an arbitrary line in
the sand. The differences between Togo and Ghana are quite
substantial however.
The most obvious thing is the language, they
speak French in Togo. This could of been a real problem for us had
it not been for Matty, who has studied
French and spent a few months living in France. He negotiated all
our deals for us and generally got things moving.
In Ghana there are stuff all motorbikes.
In Togo, every second vehicle seemed to be a motorbike. We hired a
motorbike and driver every now and then to get around. This bought
back many good memories of the Philippines, despite there only being two
people per motorbike. *yawn*
I also liked the capital city of Togo (Lome) a
lot better than the capital city of Ghana (Accra). When I was in
the Philippines, I visited Iloilo city when I wanted to get away from
things. I go to Accra only when I have to. It is just a bit
too crazy for my tastes. Lome on the other hand was fairly laid
back and not too stressful to be in.
We stayed at a fairly rundown
hotel in Lome. While the hotel was a bit of a dive by western
standards, it was still vastly superior to Guest
House One in Camp. The room
we hired had two double beds and air conditioning(!). The beds
were so nice! Much much better than the crappy
beds at camp.
After catching our breath and
getting some food, we headed off to our first major cool-thing, the
voodoo market!
Motorcycle Rides
We decided to hire some drivers and motorcycles to get us to the
voodoo market.
I had many motorcycle rides in the
Philippines. More often than not it was three to a bike, sometimes
two, occasionally four. When we finally managed to find four
drivers who would take us to the market, I tried to act all
nonchalant. I'd boast that I'd done this "a thousand times in
the Philippines."
Despite my feigned (?) nonchalance, the bike
ride to the market was a lot of fun. Hanging on to the back
of a motorcycle and zooming in and out of traffic is just cool.
The bike I was traveling on had a near miss with a Taxi and the bike
Matty was on fishtailed in some sand.
At one stage I was hanging onto the
motorbike with one hand and snapping pictures with the other. Once
again, it bought back many good memories of the Philippines. I did
manage to get off one or two
good shots.
Voodoo Market
It's hard to know what to make of the voodoo market.
On the one hand, it is a fascinating place chock-a-block
full of interesting items and traditions. It brought to mind the
images of Africa that you see in B-grade movies.
On the other hand, it is full of dead animals -
some of which are endangered. It had lion, cheetah and leopard skins,
leopard heads, monkey
heads and skulls, bear
heads, dog heads and many other
gruesome things that I couldn't quite identify. It all made me
feel a bit ill.
I assume some locals use the place for voodoo
type purchases.
It is, above all, a tourist trap. When we
arrived on our motorbike, a guide immediately bowled up to us and told
us that if we wanted to look around then we would have to have a guide
as this wasn't a normal market. It cost us 3,000 CFA
($NZ 8.89) each to get in.
The tour we were given wasn't great. He
pointed out the various animals and what they used them for. He
emphasised that they only did positive voodoo: healings, good luck and
the like. There was no "black" voodoo going on in the
market.
We were then split up into two groups of two
and taken into what I called "voodoo shacks". The guy in
the shack asked us where we from and what our names were. He then performed
a blessing for us by ringing a bell at a statue and reciting our
names and countries of birth.
They then showed us various voodoo
fetishes. They were:
-
Good Luck Fetish
This fetish is in the form of a pendant. It contains
forty-two herbs and spices, easily trumping Colonel
Sanders.
To make it work, you had to hold it your two hands, speak your name
three times into it and then bring it back and forth to your chest
three times as if you were praying.
They wanted us to purchase all of the fetishes. I only
purchased the good luck fetish.
-
Travel Fetish
A good thing to push on the tourists huh?
The travel fetish was a twig with a little stopper in it.
You'd speak your name and destination into the twig and then lock it
in by putting the stopper in.
-
Memory Fetish
The memory fetish was a big black seed.
To make it work, you crossed it on your head in Catholic-type manner
and then place it under your pillow.
-
Aphrodisiac Fetish
There had to be one of these right?
The aphrodisiac was a long twig (duh). You need to peel some
of the bark of, place it under your own door, and then go visit your
lover.
I asked the guy if it would be beneficial to use two sticks as I
needed all the help I could get. He didn't laugh.
Togo Nightlife
We headed back into the center of town after we had finished at
the voodoo market. We chilled for a bit on the nice - but just a
little smelly - Togo beach front before
heading off to try and find some food.
We must of wandered around for a least a half
hour trying to find the restaurants listed in the Lonely Planet Guide
to West Africa without having any luck. The restaurants either
didn't exist or weren't where the Guide said they would be.
We decided to head into this rather strange
Jazz Club to get a drink while we sorted out what we were going to
do. The evening was still pretty young and we were the only ones
there. I won't mention names (Jared)
, but by this stage one of our party was getting pretty desperate to use
the bathroom. Our not-to-be-mentioned party member (Jared)
asked the club owner where the bathroom was and went away to do his
business. The club was very expensive and we decided not to buy
anything. We had to keep on delaying while we waited for our erstwhile
companion (Jared) to finish his
business.
After about ten minutes we heard a quiet voice
calling from the toilet block, "Mat-ty... Mat-ty... please
bring toilet paper. Please." Matty asked the bar owner
for some and it was promptly relayed to - meh, let's drop this pretense
- Jared. After another five
minutes he so he emerged and said, "Err... guys. We should
really go. I, um, clogged up the toilet."
We made our excuses and left. At first at
a gentle walk, then a jog and eventually an outright sprint.
We finally found an overpriced pizzeria to eat
at.
The Lonely Planet Guide to West Africa says
that Togo can be a very unsafe place after night for the unwary traveler.
It says that the dumbest thing you can do in Togo is to walk along the
beach at night by yourself. With this in mind, we caught a Taxi
back to our hotel and played cards.
Such party animals...
A special mention has to made about Matty's
frugal packing skills: He only packed one pair of socks. The
somewhat musty socks were sorted out with
some soap and a hand basin.
Heading back into Ghana
We headed off early the next morning with the goal of making it back into Ghana. We caught yet another tro-tro and made it to
a small town that we were pretty sure was near the border.
The ever reliable Matty tried his best to find
out exactly where we were, but ended up just getting us more
confused. In the end we tried that the old Africa travel trick
called "Let's try and find us a white person who could help."
I found a couple of young white females and ask
them, "Hello. Do you know where we are and how far away the
border is." They replied in a very thick French accent,
"Heel-o. Cen ewe repeat yourzelf een speek more zlowlee?".
Hmmm. Back to square one.
As it turned out though, Matty could
communicate them a lot easier than he could communicate with the
Togolese people. I guess it is similar to the way I find it
hard to communicate to Liberian people, even though we both speak
English.
We eventually worked out that we were still
about thirty kilometers away from the border.
We struck up a deal with a taxi driver and we
were soon on our way again. About half way through the trip the
taxi driver decided to cram another two people into the taxi. Four
big guys and three Togolese do not fit well into a taxi...
Ghana has many police roadblocks that serve as
a way for the Ghanaian police to collect bribes. The going rate
for a tro-tro is about 10,000 cedi ($NZ 1.72). There are not
nearly as many roadblocks in Togo. At one point though, we were
stopped by some armed Togolese policeman. One policeman asked me
to get out and open the bags in the back. Which I did. It
was not like I had a second option. He grunted and nodded as I rifled
through smelly bags of underwear and clothes. Matty - who is much
more experienced at this sort of thing than I am - came to the rescue
and offered the policeman a cookie. He accepted it with a grin and
waved us on our way. The next time I travel around in Africa, I am
going to be sure to have a packet of cookies on me.
The taxi driver eventually got us to the
border. Which was a bit of a relief as he had to ask for
directions several time along the way. I mean, how hard can it be
to find the border? "Drive west" is all the directions
you need.
The Togo-Ghana border we crossed at was
somewhat less glamorous than the Ghana-Togo
border that we crossed earlier. The Togo-Ghana border was a
metal gate and a small wooden building. I managed to snap a picture
of the border before some guy said, "No pictures! No
pictures!" as if this piss-arse metal gate and wooden
building were of some sort of national security stronghold.
We waited for a few minutes while a young man
went to "find his boss". A guy in an official looking
uniform eventually wandered over looking like he'd just been woken
up. He stamped our passports and sent us on our way.
I was a little concerned at this point. I
very much doubted that our taxi driver had a passport and there was a
long piece of dirt road stretching out in front of us. Fortunately
though, the taxi driver was allowed to drive us through the two
kilometers or so of no-man's-land between Togo and Ghana.
We repeated a similar process
on the Ghana security checkpoint and we were back in
Ghana. Yay!
Wli waterfalls
Our next stop was at Wli (pronounced vlee), which was within
walking distance of the border.
There was a church conference happening in Wli
when we got there. As a result, all of the hotels were booked
out. One place did have a couple of tents
spare and let us stay there. Rather disturbingly, these were much
more comfortable than the beds
at Guest House One...
We relaxed and had some food at the hotel
before heading off for a hike to the Waterfalls of Wli.
Like most beautiful places in the world, the
Waterfalls of Wli require an entry charge. We paid the entry fee
and hired the compulsory guide at the tourist
office. We only had time to get to the lower waterfalls, which
takes about one-and-a-half hours to get there and back. The upper
waterfalls is a five hour trip.
The walk to the waterfalls was very cool.
Beautiful rainforest and mountains rising all
around you. The guide pointed out all the interesting features
of the rainforest. He showed us the cocoa bean which is used to
make chocolate. I asked him if there was chocolate inside of the
cocoa bean. He said, "No." Another Kiwi-African
humor clash methinks. He did point out that you could suck
the seeds inside the cocoa bean, which were very sweet and
yummy.
We also saw a massive
centipede. Cool!
After a very easy walk, we made it to the very
gorgeous waterfalls. I hadn't
brought any togs with me, so I stripped down to my underwear and joined
Matty and Jared at the base of the waterfall.
It was very noisy and windy (and wet...) at the base and we had to shout
to each other to be heard. A lot of whooping and yelling went
on. Very cool. The experience brought back many good
memories of the waterfalls
on the island of Negros in the Philippines.
After drying off (and changing underwear) we
headed back to the hotel where we ate some more before crashing out in
the tents for the night.
Monkeys
When in Africa, you just have to see wildlife in its natural
environment. It is just compulsory. I haven't yet seen any
big game yet - rhino, giraffe, elephant and so on - but I am hoping to
have more luck in Uganda. I've
promised Stephanie - my niece
- a photo of a giraffe just for her. She would of preferred a baby
giraffe but I had to tell her that it probably wouldn't of fit into my suitcase.
The usual combination of taxis and crammed
tro-tro rides got us to the last stop on our tour at a place called Kafe
Atome (Kaf-ay Ah-tome-ee), which is famous for its monkey sanctuary.
The monkey sanctuary was set up with the aid of
the American Peace Corps., and it really shows. Most tourist spots
in Ghana are very poorly run. We were greeted at the gate by a
Ghanaian lady who sat us down and explained all the various options for accommodation
and sight seeing in the sanctuary. She then walked us to our rooms and
introduced us to our cook. She was very friendly and checked on us
several times to make sure everything was okay. We were not begged
for money.
She also gave us a tour around the
village. Someone made the insightful comment that it was the type
of African village you imagine when you don't know much about
Africa. There were mud brick houses and bamboo houses
with thatched roofs. Goats and chickens (and the odd monkey!)
wandered around the houses. There was even a guy doing some
traditional weaving.
A lot of our tourist spots in Ghana could learn
a lot from the monkey sanctuary.
We were all pretty wiped out from our traveling
and slept most of the afternoon. In the evening I watched the
Football World Cup final with the locals. Sharing one of the few
televisions with sixty or so locals to watch the final was just cool.
The monkeys tend to come out in the cooler
parts of the day - the morning and the evening. We got up at 6
a.m. the next mornings to see the monkeys. They were
very cool. I took a lot of pictures of the monkeys in the hope
that one of them would be good.
The monkeys were quite friendly, but not overly so. They would cautiously
take a piece of banana (what else?) from your hand before scampering
back to the trees.
They monkeys headed back into the trees after
they tired of us and the bananas. A guide then took us for an
half-hour walk around the rainforest. The trees
in particular were very cool.
We were lucky enough to find a tro-tro heading
back to Accra as soon as we stepped out of the sanctuary. A taxi
and another tro-tro saw us safely arrive back to camp.
Wrap Up
I really enjoyed my weekend away with Boyfriend!
We had a very guy orientated competition to see
whose shirt would be the smelliest and dirtiest after been worn
constantly for four days. Matty looked as if was gonna win it
before Jared stole it at the last minute by pointing out the mold
growing on his collar.
It was good just to hang out and be a guy.
If you're interested in
downloading a video of the Boyfriend! road trip, then click here.
* Including, but not limited to: Balut,
various parts of a goat (eyes, brain, skin, liver, heart, kidney...),
century eggs (take a chicken egg, bury it for one hundred days and then
boil), fried pig's blood, chicken intestines on a stick, pig's face,
pig's brain...
Questions? Comments? Try contacting
me.
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(c)
2005 and 2006 Malcolm Trevena.
All the stuff on this site is written by me, Malcolm Trevena. Feel free to
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want. Just make sure you sight me as a reference.
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