Woolly says – The journey onwards had been a bit of a nightmare. We had booked a transfer back to the airport in Dar es Salaam and luckily due to Jo’s habit of being everywhere super early we set off with plenty of time to spare, or so we thought. The thirty kilometre journey took nearly two and a half hours through the mayhem and dust of the city. Check in took forever with the lady wanting to see every onward flight we were taking until we reached the UK, it took an age to show her all the emails and then there were further questions, I went into a trancelike state and left the human to handle it.
Finally on board the flight we arrived promptly at Nairobi for a seven hour layover, airports are not the comfiest places to snooze and having tried for several hours to get some shut eye we both gave up and went in search of strong tea with plenty of sugar. Which is when we realised that our second flight wasn’t showing on the departure board, being a resourceful mammoth, I suggested taking our brews and sitting by the onward transit desk which finally opened an hour and a half later. With the gate sorted we headed towards it and went through the whole onward flight conversation once again. Finally seated on the flight we both managed to nod off in-between being offered food and refreshments which I never turn down.
Ten minutes early, we arrived in Doula, Cameroon for our next flight. This time there was no quiz involved just a long wait for our new boarding cards which we passed happily chatting away to a fellow Brit who was also undergoing the same problems. A very loud lady appeared and started shouting at us all in French which failed me completely while Jo got the bare minimum and just decided to follow the crowd onto the plane. All went well with more food on offer and a short hop to our actual destination, well that was until we got to immigration.
The visa had been a nightmare to obtain, and they had issued us with the incorrect dates hence our enforced days off in Dar. I handed over our passports and e visas when the immigration official told us we still needed to pay and demanded some money, I knew we had paid online with our application but apparently this wasn’t going to be enough. A quick trot to the nearest ATM and I begrudgingly handed over some money.
Woolly says – Our documents were handed to another official who peered at them and started asking questions about our stay, he then asked for something to go in his coffee! I could see the steam coming out of Jo’s ears as she politely told him that we had just paid the man next to him and was he asking for a bribe! Some muttering took place between the two men and then our passports with visas in them were finally handed over and we scurried off to find our big backpack.
With all of our luggage in tow we headed outside to meet our driver for the ride to the hotel. He kindly unloaded Jo and started to carry our stuff towards his car when a police man in army fatigues appeared and demanded our passports. I had sweat running down my tusks and trunk and the human looked as though she had come straight out of the shower, she asked what he needed them for when he grabbed it and started walking back to the terminal with us racing behind and the driver trying to grab him and our paperwork.
Finally, the driver stopped him and asked what the problem was, and a lot of mutterings commenced, I didn’t know who was going to cry first by this point, me or the small, soaked mammoth beside me. Whatever the driver said worked and our passports were handed back and we ran for the car. I asked the driver what the official had wanted, and he said ‘bribe’, this country is going to be tricky if everyone wants a bribe!
Woolly says – twenty minutes later and we were finally able to collapse in our cool clean room and prepare for the next day’s adventures in Lome, Togo.
Togo, officially the Togolese Republic is a country in West Africa. It is bordered by Ghana to the west, Benin to the east and Burkina Faso to the north and is one of the least developed countries in Africa. Jo will have plenty of time to practice her schoolgirl French whilst we are here.
Lomé is the capital and largest city of Togo, it is also the country’s chief port, from where it exports coffee, cocoa, copra, and oil palm kernels.
Having slept for ten hours we both woke refreshed and ready for anything that Lome had to throw at us. With our included breakfast and mugs of tea consumed we hit the streets which took us straight into the market area and hundreds of people. It was a lot and having seen the sea we headed in that direction first.
The beach was a beautiful golden yellow littered with rubbish and debris and thousands of motorbikes which seem to be the main method of transport here. Having seen enough we crossed the busy main road dodging between tuk tuks, cars and of course bikes.
We were keeping our eyes peeled for some spires and having spotted them we dived back into the market streets wending our way through the stalls until we arrived at the rear of The Sacred Heart Cathedral, the mother of the Archdiocese of Lome (since September 14th 1955). One of the seven Catholic church districts of the of Togo. Built in just over a year from April 1901 to September 1902 by the German colonial authorities, it has become one of the iconic buildings of the new capital of Togo.
It certainly stood out against the rest of the flat topped buildings as we made our way round to the entrance. Its white and orangey decoration looked pristine and new.
Stepping inside we found a number of people praying so as a mark of respect we crept towards the back and sat enjoying the calm and peaceful environment, a sharp contrast to the chaos of outside.
Huge arches lined each side of the interior with a high vaulted ceiling with marble columns decorated with leaves.
The stained glass windows both with a modern slant and the more traditional type were beautiful but not wanting to be rude and take pictures we will have to keep that finery to ourselves.
We walked to the rear of the building where we found the Lourdes shrine which was lovely with this pinks and blues.
Heading outside into the crammed streets of traders and started our walk towards Lomé Grand Market, referred to in French as “Grand Marché” (Main Market) consists of three sections, known locally as Atipoji, Asigame and Assivito. It occupies an entire city block in the city with the majority of the vendors being women and children.
Woolly says – Even though our eyes were peeled we couldn’t spot an inside market anywhere, finally retreating to a pharmacy Jo asked in reasonable French its whereabouts only to be told that it was closed and being rebuilt. Of course it was, they must have known we were coming and done it on purpose!
We set off once more this time finding ourselves getting more and more lost in the melee of life in Lome, realising that we were going round in circles the human flagged down a passing tuk tuk and managed to convey our destination although I swear I did hear some Turkish in amongst the French.
Off we went arriving five minutes later at The Monument de L’independence, built as a tribute to Togo’s independence from France on April 27th, 1960. The structure is composed of a human silhouette carved within it and surrounded by promenades, palm trees, manicured lawns, fountains and a black gold iron fence.
It was lovely although sadly the gates were firmly locked so all we could do was to admire from afar. With this destination checked off we set about finding a way to our last place of the day. The tuk tuk driver who had waited had no clue as to what the woman was on about but happily took us back to the seafront and a point from which we could find a hotel.
We did the sensible thing and went and asked the lovely manger to order us a taxi and sat chatting with her as we waited. A ten minute drive passed, and we pulled up at the Fetish market.
The Akodessawa Fetish Market is located at Akodessawa, which is a district of Lomé. It is the world’s largest voodoo market and Togo has a long tradition of voodoo. Centuries ago, slaves from Africa brought Yoruba gods to the Caribbean and South America. There it came to mixing of African gods with the saints of Christianity and the symbols of the Catholic Church. In course of time, they changed their meaning. When former slaves and their families migrated to West Africa they developed a voodoo cult in the country of origin of their families.
The first thing that hit us as we climbed out of the car was the smell, one of animals and burning fat, not the pleasantist of scents. We were introduced to the tourist guide which we apparently needed and having handed over our 5000 West African CFA franc, approximately £6.35 GBP he led us over to the first stall.
There before us lay the heads of horses, cheetahs, baboons and rather a lot of dead birds. The guide explained that people would come to the witch doctor with their ills and he would prescribe an animal depending on the symptoms which they would duly buy from here and then return to the doctor who would grind it up and burn it to cure them of whatever the problem was, it was certainly different to taking a paracetamol!
Next, we arrived at a stall that had a range of voodoo dolls which were both male and female and would be bought to protect the home, the guide told us that they worked better than guard dogs which I’m not sure the guard dogs would agree with.
More and more heads were shown form crocodiles to antelopes and even hippo skulls. I could see my companion mulling things over before asking who killed all these animals, she had a good point as poaching was banned in a lot of African countries. The guide explained that they would have all died of natural causes, given the quantity I wasn’t sure I believed him but was too scared to discuss the point further in case he cursed us both.
Next, we were taken into see what looked like a very young Witch Doctor who first blessed us and welcomed us.
Before handing us a range of items that would either protect us and ensure our safety, protect the home or get your fiancé to propose. It appeared that we wouldn’t be leaving until we had purchased one and as neither of us has a fiancé and home is a long way away, we went for the first option. With the price agreed, another 5000 CFA’s our protection and safety item was duly blessed too hopefully do just that.
We thanked the doctor and headed back into the compound to look at animal skins and masks all of which we were asked to buy which we gracefully declined.
The last stalls held another mountain of heads along with horse tails for waving at traditional ceremonies again we declined to purchase them.
In the centre of the market were a number of statues which all represented gods along with a large bowl shaped area that was where animals could be burnt to bring good luck, the level of fat deposits certainly explained the smell of fat in the air.
Having thanked our guide, we set off with our driver watching the streets and motorbikes along the roads and admiring some of the roundabouts as we headed back to the digs.
It had been an interesting day and up to that point neither of us felt that we had been royally ripped off.
Woolly says – Of course it must be coming, and it did in the shape of the taxi drier who instead of the agreed fee that the hotel had got for us demanded more, quite a lot more. Now Jo might be small, but boy can she be mighty at times and realising that we were only a few minutes away from the accommodation she demanded that he stop the car and gave him the agreed amount as she grabbed my paw, and we marched away to the mans insults. Arriving back at the hotel we explained what had happened to us and the taxi driver was promptly removed from being used by their guests for the future.
Overall, we’d enjoyed our day but its quite a daunting place to walk around and the rubbish lines the streets and beaches which is such a shame, certainly not as dusty though which is a good thing. The jury is still out on the voodoo aspect as although fascinating it was very macbre. Tomorrow brings another adventure.