Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso To Tamale, Ghana

Yesterday, I entered Ghana from Burkina Faso. I got up nice and early to head to the STMB station in plenty of time for my 7:30 am bus. It was a smaller bus, about 10 rows of three seats with a fourth fold down seat for the aisle. The bus was only 2/3 full and I got myself a nice single seat on the right side of the bus, though my window had no glass. We left at 7:30 and headed to south Ouagadougou where the bus filled up almost completely--though there were still a few fold down chairs free.

The road to the border is mostly good. There were a few dirt stretches that were pretty pocked with potholes. We went pretty slow through those, but they weren't long. At about 10:30, we arrived in Pô. I was a bit confused. I thought the bus goes to Pô and everyone was getting off--yet my ticket said Pouga. I got off too and started dealing with money changers.

I wanted to cash in some Euros they wanted dollars. So I asked how much for €40. They said GH¢40. Now I was really confused. First of all, when I checked the exchange rate, US$1 was about 9270 cedis. What's with this €1 being 1 cedi? They told me that the cedi was revalued. Hmmm... How come the internet didn't tell me that? Or did I just miss the decimal point? Anyway, I they were only willing to exchange the euros and dollars at the same rate--I got them 10% higher on the euro but that's not enough, so I was forced to use US$40 instead of €40 which I was not happy about since I have far fewer US dollars. Then I realized that the people on the bus were waiting for me to finished--the bus goes all the way to the border. So I had GH¢40. I checked the dates on the bills--they were all from July 1, 2007. They certainly wouldn't have nice 1 cedi bills for an about worth US 0.1¢ would they? I will not convert Ghana cedis (GH¢) into US$ like I usually do since they are about 1 to 1. Also, for those interested. On the French keyboard setting on my laptop--the one that lets me write Pô instead of Po and déjà instead of deja, the trick to getting the ¢ is shift-ctrl-alt-c.

That's nice. Lonely Planet made it sound like that last 15 km to the border was something you have to arrange from Pô. The bus company smartened up, I guess. So it was off to the border. The bus took us to Burkina customs.

We all unboarded at the start of customs and walked along side the bus through a long parking lot loaded with trucks. Not to dissimilar from the Pacific Xing border in Blaine. Nobody gave us a second look--except more money changers. Finally, we arrived at immigration.

They pointed to the border police office and I went in. The officer at the desk had me take a seat. He asked which direction I was going. I told him Ghana. "You are returning to Ghana?" I told him I came from Mali, through Burkina Faso and now was going to Ghana. He entered my name, passport number, nationality, and maybe some other information, but it was just one on a page. Then he gave me my exit stamp. No payment necessary. I left and saw the bus way down the street. I thought it might be driving away, but I recognized some of my fellow passengers walking along the road and stopped panicking.

When I got to the bus, my backpack and other bag were already unloaded. A guy asked if I was going to Kumasi. I told him Tamale, stressing the "ma" part like the Mexican food. He didn't understand. Then he asked Tamale? stressing the "le" syllable. I said yes. He took me over to the Kumasi bus from the New World Transport company. A ticket to Tamale is CFA 3500 (US$7) and a ticket to Kumasi is CFA12000 (US$24). If I thought we could reach Kumasi before 7, I would have taken it, but it was about 11:30 and I wasn't sure. So I chose Tamale and got on. There were some other passengers from my previous bus on this bus already. Just before noon we were off even though we weren't full. The nice thing about the richer parts of Africa is that they don't wait for every last seat to be full. It didn't take us far and we were at Ghana immigration. I plopped the Lonely Planet into my seat to save it and stepped down from the bus. I handed the police woman my passport as I got off. Then another officer limping with a cane came and got my passport and lead me into an office with a third officer who had the bearing and appearance of an African Jon Haussman (is that his name? The professor in The Paper Chase?) He handed over a slip asking all the typical questions. One was the address I was staying tonight and one was my address in Ghana. Hmm.... I didn't remember the name of the hotel exactly and I used the Lonely Planet to save my space. All I remembered is that it started with "Pi" and ended in "a" and has 3 syllables. I guessed Picota Hotel. I knew the Paper Chase professor would not be happy. And he wasn't. At least I wasn't screwing his daughter. He asked about this Picota Hotel which he didn't recognize. I said I didn't remember the name exactly--it was in my guide book. He asked me to get my guide book and I said it was on the bus. He let me off and copied the Hotel Picota into the Address in Ghana field. He asked where I planned to go after Tamale. I said Kumasi. He asked about after that. I said I would probably go to Cape Coast and Elmina and then to Accra but might go to Accra first. He seemed satisfied enough. Then he gave me my entry stamp. No money for this one either.

I left and walked through the Ghana customs area I kept waiting for someone to wave me into some office or something but nothing. I met the bus. When we were complete again, we left. It was only about 12:15. We stopped in Bandiagara where I feared I might have to spend my first night. Then off to Tamale. In a city called Nasia, we stopped. The bus conductor opened the internal cover of the engine or transmission. Now the whole bus smelled like gas. The driver and conductor were studying something in there. Then the engine turned off. I had the wrong seat--right in the sun. I unloaded after about 5 minutes to escape the heat and fumes. I went and stood in the shadow of the bus and watched as the driver, from outside the bus, was doing something sort of behind his seat. Maybe the fuel line was leaking? I don't know what happened. But I was thinking that my too smooth trip through Burkina Faso was finally starting to turn back into the fiesta of mechanical unreliability that I came to know in the other parts of West Africa. I was strangely made happy again. Things were as they should be--every mechanical system cobbled together with parts at their breaking point and every single driver being able to fix anything anywhere. But alas, 20 minutes later, we were on the road.

As we reached the outskirts of Tamale, we stopped at a police checkpoint. An officer in fatigues was slowly walking right toward me--the only white face in the bus. He asked for my passport. He looked at the picture and I realized I had my new sunglasses on and took them off. He asked where I was going. I said Tamale like the Mexican food, and he didn't understand. "Tama or Tamale?" he asked stressing the "le" part and I said Tamale, correctly this time. He asked where I was coming from. Burkina Faso--Ouagadougou. He asked if I when I was returning to Burkina Faso. I told him I wasn't--that I would leave Ghana at the Togo border. They looked at my entry stamp and my visa and handed me back my passport. There was a time where this would have been an intimidating encounter. But I've been here long enough to no longer be intimidated. I think they are more curious than anything. Just bored sitting there waiting at the police checkpoint and they have nothing better to do than go see what that white guy is doing.

Finally we entered Tamale. I young man offered to take me and my stuff to the Picorna Hotel. (I had looked it up in the mean time--I was close--just replacing the "rn" with a "t".) He had my backpack on and my extra bag--I still had my laptop which I never let anyone else carry outdoors. I asked how much he wanted. He said no money. Yeah I know that one. No, I said, I need to know up front how much. He said to not worry about it. Finally, I told him that if he didn't tell me how much I was going to take my stuff and walk there myself. He said GH¢3. I said I could a taxi for less than that and would pay GH¢1. OK, he said GH¢2. OK, no point in quibbling over a buck. Besides he knew where it was and since we would walk I would know how to get back to this intersection which I needed to do since I saw the Standard Chartered Bank across the street and need to hit their ATM. So we were off. It was a twisty turny path. Hmmm.... Can I remember this? I read all the store names. Remembered the Victory Cinema, other landmarks. Was taking a long way? Finally we arrived. It wasn't close at all. Looks closer on the map. I gave him the GH¢2 and thanked him. The Picorna had rooms. Whew!

Actually a nice room. AC, TV, mini fridge, even a telephone. The toilet had a plastic seat. And there is a bar and a restaurant on the premises. I would get to those later, but now, off to the bank. The room was GH¢23 so that took out most of the GH¢40 I got in Pô. I hope the ATM at the bank works for me.

So I left to get to the bank. It was about 4:30pm now. I got a bit lost but I remember walking right under a radio tower covered with dishes and most of the landmarks. I eventually found my way back to the Standard Chartered bank. There was an ATM outside. I slipped in my debit card and lo and behold, it told me Welcome to Visa and even knew my name. I was able to withdraw a maximum of GH¢200 which it gave me in all GH¢5 notes. So I had basically $200 in $5 bills. A thick stack of cash. But I was happy. My stress levels went down. Now my most driving feeling was thirst. I was in the hot sun all the way down and the heat was blazing right now still. I went back to the hotel which still seems a lot further than on the map. And I headed to the bar. I was the only customer. I asked for a water and what kind of beers they have. The girl had trouble with my English. Finally she figured out what I was saying and listed the beers. I chose a Star. She put the water, a large beer (I wasn't expecting that but wasn't displeased), and a glass into a plastic caddy and came over to my table. I'd never seen a waitress with a plastic caddy instead of a tray. Interesting. She opened the beer with a bottle opener and I poured it into the glass. No head. That didn't seem right. I called her back and asked if this beer is supposed to be like this. She didn't understand me. "There are no bubbles. Is that that right?" She looked confused. I pointed at the beer and said "yellow" and then pointed at the empty space above the beer where the head should be and said "not white". "Is that right?" She said yes and walked away. I tasted it. Flat. This was wrong. But she was gone. Then about 30 seconds later she came back with another guy. I guess she needed a second opinion too. As he walked in I told him "I think the bottle wasn't sealed properly." He looked at it and told the girl to bring another beer. She took my glass and bottle away and filled the plastic caddy with a second glass and a second beer. She came over, took them out of the caddy, and opened the Star. They two of the watched as I poured myself a second glass. This time a nice white head appeared. All three of us smiled and I went to writing in my journal.

The bill came to GH¢3.5. So I got to the 20p and 10p coins. The 'p' means pesawi. One hundred to the cedi. I left her the coins.

I went to the room for a while and then a little after six headed to the Picorna restaurant. I was, again, the only customer. I asked for a table for 1. They guy didn't understand me. I guess English still doesn't work with some people here. But I got a table. They have Chinese, continental, and Ghanian dished here. I have no idea what the words mean on the Ghanian dished so I decided to go Chinese. I ordered egg rolls and beef stirfry. Then I waited a long time. No problem. I knew it would take a while since the kitchen was hardly in high volume mode. The TV was turned to soccer, but Nigeria was crushing Sierra Leone so they changed it around a bit.

Finally, the food came. Even though egg rolls are later in the menu than the stirfry, I made a point of ordering them first--a point which went unnoticed because he first brought out the stirfry and a larger plate of rice than I really wanted, then brought out the eggrolls--with no sauce. I needed to ask for a serving spoon as well. The egg roll sauce was what is probably the base for the stirfry--not really an egg roll sauce. OK, but certainly not the right thing. But the stirfry was OK--though I make it better myself at home. They eventually switched the TV over to news.

Fascinating. It was a show called News Night. There was a woman anchor who didn't have a teleprompter. She kept looking down at her written text and sounded more like she was reading than talking. It was kind of funny. But in the end, she still pulled it off better than Gen. Al Haig does on his truly bizarre TV show World Business Report (or whatever it's called)--and he has a teleprompter.

And the big news in Ghana this day? One of the political parties chose a woman as a VP candidate. Shades of Sarah Palin. In fact, another commentator would refer to Sarah Palin quite often as he interviewed a human rights activist whose sole reason to support this woman VP was that she was female. They showed the presidential candidate saying that he was from the predominantly Muslim north and she was a Catholic Evangelical (I didn't know there was such a thing) and would play well in the Christian south. Hmm... A presidential candidate shoring up his southern positions by choosing a female evangelical. Yep, sounds like Sarah Palin. Then they interviewed this new VP candidate on the phone, but the connection was horrible and you couldn't understand a single word she said. Maybe Sarah Palin should have used that phone to answer Katie Couric's questions. Of course I didn't see the interview--all I know is that Palin doesn't perform well with follow up questions and because of that she attacks the interviewers (and the press in general) at her KKK rallies.

The bill came to GH¢13.23. The guy brought back the change and I took the coins. Then I left. As I was leaving, the waiter came up to me and said I forgot my change. I told him to keep it. I guess change left on the table isn't an implied tip in Ghana? But then, this guy seemed pretty new at the waitering game.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008 9:17 Ghana local time