I am back in Nadowli after another round of travelling experiences.
This time, I shared them in the Volta Region & Togo with friends and
various places on the way up north & home with my sister and nephew. Some
were re-visits but others came as new experiences. It is just as wonderful to
return to favourite places with new people as I learned more through fresh pairs of eyes and a different season of the year. I am grateful to Francis who has
driven me and a variety of visitors all around Ghana on a few trips since last
August. It is extremely reassuring to be driven so safely and not to need to
worry about anything. I should never have seen so much of the country by public
transport, although I daresay there would have been plenty of tales to tell of
hours waiting for buses in locations full of the sights, sounds and smells of
Africa. However, my backpacking days are long gone and my guests and I deserve
a little luxury. As Ghana feels increasingly like “home”, I wonder how much of
everyday life I take for granted now and am I not appreciating them enough.
Anyway, on with the travels……..
The first few days were not without incident, but as so
often happens, problems can be closely followed by enormous doses of good luck.
“Fitters” fix bicycles, motos and cars with almost no machinery but a handful
of spanners. There are plenty of them and they operate from a small lean-to at
intervals along any road. It is impossible to tell whether they know what they
are doing but when your head gasket goes right beside a “fitter” you have to
rely on somebody. In this case the diagnosis was good but the car needed to be
back in Accra for surgery. Needless to say you can’t phone the AA or RAC in
this situation. How lucky that a Land Rover with a tow bar came past….. already
towing someone else but happy to pull tandem! Meanwhile, taxis took us to
Atimpoku and on to Amedzofe, where we were the only guests in the highest hotel
in Ghana with fantastic views for miles across Lake Volta and from where we spotted some beautiful little birds.
We had a cursory tour
of the Teacher Training College there before the heavens opened and we needed
to shelter in the local spot.
Finally, with a healthy car, we started out for the Togo
border. There is something about “shortcuts” that makes me nervous and this one
proved to be true to form. Despite reassurances from a young tro driver that we
were on the Togo road and that it was in good condition, it took some hours to
reach the remote and rarely used border post and the poor car had slalom conditions
around craters the whole way along the rough sandy roads. At each junction
devoid of signposts, we made the wrong decision and kept retracing our steps
and at a few places we needed to get out of the car to avoid it grounding
itself.
I say the border post was rarely used but in fact local
people were coming and going all the time on motos, seemingly without the need
for any papers or passports. When we pulled up it was an altogether different
matter. I didn’t total the number of officials that appeared from all around to
deal with our documents but there were plenty! Firstly, there was the issue of
Gaynor’s single entry visa to Ghana! By crossing to Togo she would need another
to allow her back into Ghana. Whoops, none of us had thought that one through. Never
mind, we would cross that bridge…….or border…. the following week! This crossing
consisted of many barriers. At each there were checks on the car, us, our
documents and our luggage. How lucky that Francis knew a few people who worked
for the immigration service otherwise we could still be there 3 weeks later. The
fact that his tribal language of Ewe (pronounced Ay way) is spoken across Togo
and into Benin, also helped to smooth things at various points.
The entry visas, when we got them were rather beautiful with
postage stamps attached for authenticity. We needed to provide photos and these
were all mixed up as the guards couldn’t find any difference between us……well,
except for Francis who didn’t need one anyway, being Ghanaian.
We were expecting to meet a guide from the Togo Tourist
Board who Francis had contacted on Facebook to show us around and find decent
hotels. Germaine’s moto had broken down and it was pure luck that he recognised
her from her Facebook photo as she shot past us in the opposite direction on a
moto taxi. At this point we had a border policeman in the front seat escorting
us to the next barrier. There followed an almost slap-stick moment when
Germaine climbed in and sat on his lap. It wasn’t long before they sorted
themselves out and the policeman called the moto taxi back to take him to the
next barrier and we never saw him again!!! It was with some relief that we made
it into Kpalime and the Geyser Hotel. Suddenly everything was French. Although
I was expecting that, it was so very French it came as rather more of a
surprise…….more bread as baguettes, a meal with courses and crepes on the menu.
How refreshing!
(There will be photos but they are not permitted at border
crossings and anyway I was too busy to think of taking any.)
Togo’s name
comes from an Ewe word and means “behind the lake”. We were punted across Lake
Togo to Togoville in a dug out canoe one day. I don’t know how many times a day
the ferryman made this journey, but it was a long way and the currents meant he
needed to be skilful as well as strong.
