Touch Down- Ghana 2012

Wednesday 28th March 2012

Following a great first visit in 2010, I decided I was coming back to Ghana! That was six weeks ago. Now, here I am at the airport, wheelie sack and mini sack in tow. The path ahead is lined with Ghanaians holding up signs with various names: John, Emily, Mr Watson... I look for my name- or the name of the Guest House that said they would collect me. It's air conditioned in here, so all is well so far. I squint my eyes and look across the row of names. No ‘Martha.’ No ‘Big Millie’s Back Yard.’ I open my eyes wider, still No Martha on a paper sign being held up by smiling hands. Nothing

OK, plan B-Bun Big frigging Millie. I would go to the place I originally planned to stay. Yes. That’s what I would do. I move towards the exit but before I get to the doors I’m approached by big blue trousers and a white shirt.

Do you need a cab? I look at him. It looks like a uniform. He has an ID tag hanging round his neck.

-Yes I tell him, I do.

OK, let me help you. I let him take the heavier ruck sack and am left with the smaller one and my handbag which is  across my body.

-Do you know Aplaku Guest House?
 No, you have the address?

-Err. No. The internet. I’ll go get it from the internet.

I email the guest house and tell them I am on my way and go back outside with the cab driver.
He will take you- and he points to someone else. But give me five pounds.
-What for? I ask him. -For carrying my flipping case?
Well...
I know you paid for the internet for me. How much do I owe you for that?
Five cidis.
-You’re a liar, I tell him. -You gave him 2 cidis. (I thought Ghana loved me.) I didn’t know they would do me like this. -You see you. You are nice nice in the front, then at the back you are a thief. I’m not coming back to your country! Do I look like I have IDIOT printed across my forehead? Some of the drivers laugh. I understand these guys do need to make their money, but this is a joke.
A man appears from behind. What’s going on here, he asks.
-It’s him. I spin round to the 'helpful'driver. HE, I said- paid 2 cidis for me in the internet cafe, and when I asked him how much he paid he said 5 cidis. You are employing a liar!
Why did you say that to the lady? The driver is silent. Don't worry,boss man says. I will deal with him. He will not get away with it.
I am dubious.-I need a cab anyway, I say. They get out the tourist list, and a fare that would cost 40 cidis they tell me is 95 cidis. Uh!
We have the fares for all around Ghana they assure me. Some fares are over one hundred cidis.
 -So I get to feed your family for a month from one single journey?
Well fuel has gone up, so fares have gone up. I can relate to that a little, but hey. I haven’t got 95 cidis. Furthermore I have zero cidis.
Change your money there. He points to a man sitting at the front of a group of about eight men.
-What’s the exchange rate?
2point 5.
Ok. I give him £40.00 and get 100cidis. Back in the airport to get a vodaphone sim so I can call England and tell them I have at least landed safely.  They want to see my passport and all sorts just to buy a frigging sim card. I’m not feeling this at all. The man doesn’t even look up when I ask him for the ting, and memories of their abysmal customer service come flooding back to me.
Ok, back in front of the cab again- but even after the going to the internet cafe and emailing them I still don’t have the address in my hand- or a phone number. What am I doing? What am I doing here? I’ve been up since six this morning and am on the verge of melt down.

The cab man drives far. We drive along George Bush Road. (KMT!) An hour later we are still in the cab. I’m hot then cold, then too hot, then too cold. -I just want to be warm I tell the driver. They are playing Whitney Houston and a range of good r'n'b on the radio. Her husband ruined that lady, the driver said. Bobby Brown's name is mud everywhere it would seem. Outside is almost deserted. Still no Aplaku Guest House. There’s Aplaku School, but where the guest house at? I am getting a tad concerned, but the driver is old and we have been talking so I'm sure he won't abuse me and dump my body somewhere. Plus I have called my Ghanaian friend and told him I am in a cab so there is proof that I am here.
-Let’s stop here. We stop at a random hotel. 100 dollars a night. No. Let’s just go to Big Millie’s, and that’s what we do.

Once there, they act like they are expecting me. You left me at the airport! Welcome! is what they say in response. I thank the driver and give him 75 cidis and that’s all he’s getting, though I think that the fair was probably double that in terms of the drive we have been on. It’s after midnight. Someone called 'Sakpo' shows me the first ‘hut’: Outside shower and toilet. No. I leave my case in there anyway and we walk around the complex to the next one. Big coconut trees, curved paths. Round huts with hey roofs. It’s hot but I’m relaxing. -One minute. I run back in and open my small case and spray myself with mosquito repellent. The next room is wide and spacious, gorgeous fabrics, that whole Africa feel. It has room for three people. -This is lovely. How much for here?
65cidis a night- which is decent still, but I have budgeted for 40 per night. Ok, another one. Then he takes me to one at the back. Yes, this is the one for me. And I change into a long white top; put my wrap on top of that. I spray myself some more to ward off night bites, tie my head and settle underneath my mosquito net for my first night in Ghana.