Friday the 17th

October 20th, 2008 by Kerry Flynn

So Friday the 17th really seemed more like Friday the 13th. I usually travel on weekends and on this particular Friday I was heading to Hohoe about three hours northeast in the Volta Region. It was five o’clock by the time the tro-tro filled up and we were on our way. I usually like to travel earlier in the day so that it is light when I arrive but I was meeting two volunteers there so I felt comfortable.

Well, our “three” hour journey turned into a five hour adventure. Our tro-tro was racing down the pot hole filled road only to brake aburptly before the few speed bumps in villages and the more common police checkpoints. I was exhausted from a long day of teaching and being in the sun and had a really hard time staying awake in the dark. I kept nodding off until I bumped the passenger on the right or on the left, or was lurched forward as the car slowed. Needless to say I don’t think my seatmates enjoyed the ride very much either but they put up with me.

The driver hit the bottom of the tro-tro on something and pulled over to have a look. We all unloaded the tro-tro and stretched while he serveyed the damage. I am sure i wasn’t the only one praying that nothing was wrong because I did not want to be stranded in the middle of who knows where but after ten minutes or so we were back on our way. At least until the next police checkpoint which we had uncharacteristically had to pull over while the police questioned the driver about who knows what. The tro-tro broke out into whispers about the police which elevated into shouts. I think whenever a Ghanian sits idle to long they break their boredom by arguing. Fortunately, the driver was allowed to continue the journey.

Around ten, I wearily exited the tro-tro at my “hotel.” At least it was the hotel I made reservations at, only to find that there were, of course, no rooms available. I called my friends who reserved me a room at their hotel a fifteen minute walk to the end of town. Walking across town in the middle of the night by myself didn’t really appeal to me. I got a taxi who supposedly knew the whereabouts of the hotel. After going down a desolate dirt road I was more than happy to exit the taxi. I was dropped outside a gate so I entered only to find a compound that didn’t look anything like a hotel. I had to knock on one of the doors and woke up a little girl who then lead me to three more doors before someone both knew the location of the hotel and spoke English. The gentleman kindly walked me another five minutes down the road to a hotel which I never would have found on my own.

Exhausted, I paid for my room, the only room available which was a little more than I wanted to spend. I was however grateful to have a bed, along with a tv, ac, and hot water, which didn’t work. I woke up at 5 am to the revelation that I didn’t remember putting my camera down when I got to the hotel. After scouring the hotel room, and looking in every nook and cranny of my bag, I came to the realization it was gone. I lost my camera sometime between the tro-tro and the hotel. I had it in my pocket where I have become accustom to carrying it for easy access. I am also sure that it fell out and not that someone took it which makes me feel better but careless. So I am sad and grieving my camera but fortunate that I just changed memory cards so I have most of the pictures I have taken so far. In the grand scheme of things it isn’t so bad, just a bummer since I still have a month and a half left.

You’ll all be happy to know that the rest of the weekend was much better. I saw the tallest waterfall in West Africa and got to watch some Kente weavers at work. Though I was constantly thinking about pictures I wanted to take. Despite being cameraless I am alive and well, and having a great time (if you don’t count friday.)