The ultimate lesson to be extracted from the ordeal I am about to recount is: sort out any visa applications BEFORE you arrive at your destination. I was told that I could save some money by purchasing a single entry visa to enter Ghana and once inside the country, it would be less expensive to purchase the multiple-entry visa I actually needed. This was in fact true but what the person advising me didn’t realize was that you have to pay for the cheaper multiple-entry visa on top of the single-entry one you already purchased and it therefore ends up costing the same. Most of the time my attempts to save money are beneficial, however, in this case, my plan backfired completely. In addition to the fact that I ended up paying the same visa fee, the process caused many a headache. As I mentioned in my last entry, I was warned before I came to Ghana that many things take longer here than you would expect. In Canada it took me 2 days to receive my visa even though the office was in a different city! I dropped my passport off at the Ghana Immigration Office in Accra the week after I arrived and was told to check back in 2 weeks. Emphasis on “check back.” That should have been my first hint of trouble to come. I returned on the indicated day, only to be told that there was something missing on my form: the date of my proposed trip to Togo/Benin. Due to this omission, it would take another 10 days to process my visa. Fair enough, I thought, it was my mistake. I returned on the designated date, handed in my passport retention slip and sat down eagerly awaiting the call of name. 45 minutes later and regretting that I had left my book at home, I was called to the desk. “Your passport is not ready, come back next week.” “Why isn’t it ready?” I inquired. I am met with a blank stare. “Come back on Monday.” Not one to cause a scene, my chest tightened and I walked away. How is it humanly possible for it to take over 3 weeks to put a sticker in a little book? I hear the voice of my mother in my head reminding me to apply my yoga practice to my life: deep breaths, Annabel. Today, was the appointed Monday. In preparation for another possible failure, I began composing angry speeches in my head along the lines of “you are a government institution! What kind of example are you setting for the rest of your country?” I was the first to arrive when the doors opened at 8:30. I handed off my slip – “you are too early,” the official said, “come back later.” Very calmly, I replied “I have come every week for the past four (slight exaggeration there), please give me back my passport.” She told me to sit down. This time I brought a book. I am shortly summoned to write my name down and initial next to it. Then she handed me my passport. I was in utter disbelief. I opened it to see if it was too good to be true: multiple-entry visa valid for 3 re-entries into Ghana. I said 'thank-you' in Twi (meh dah see) and strutted out the door in victory!
Another important lesson to learn in Ghana is how to weed out the people who are genuinely kind and trying to help you and the people who just want something for their own gain. I have been shown so much generosity since I arrived: just to name a couple of examples, the passengers of an entire tro-tro joined forces to ensure I alighted at the appropriate spot, and a gentleman walked me right to the door of the immigration office when I had no idea how to find it. There are a lot of people, however, who just want to sell you something or marry you. The best technique I have for fending off aggressive vendors is to tell them that don’t feel well. This usually receives the reply that they will pray for me and hope to see me again soon. The latter “request” is a bit trickier. I can’t lie so when a man asked me at the bus station yesterday where my husband was, I said that I didn’t have one. “I will take you as my wife then,” he stated. Caught off guard, I wasn’t sure how to reply – no thank you?
We had a fabulous weekend in exploring the Volta region. We bused it to Ho Hoe (pronounced Ho-Ho-Ay before you get too excited) which is normally a 3-hour journey but took us 6 due to the traffic getting out of Accra. Our arrival was somewhat chaotic – I had booked us 2 double rooms at the Pacific Guesthouse but when we arrived the receptionist had no record of our reservation. We were utterly confused because our friend Alayna had already arrived and informed us that all was in order and she had the keys to rooms 3 and 5. As we relayed this information, the receptionist said that was impossible – those rooms were occupied by some men. Before we lost our patience and started accusing the receptionist of providing an unacceptable service, I got on the phone with Alayna and asked her to come sort this out – she couldn’t find us. She then realized that the taxi driver had dropped her off at the Taste Lodge instead of the Pacific Guesthouse. The strange thing was the Taste Lodge had our booking. We eventually deduced that I had reserved the Taste Lodge by mistake and it was by complete coincidence that Alayna had ended up at the right spot. Bellies filled with kele wele, (I am now obsessed: the perfect combo of sweet and spicy plantain only found after dark at roadside stalls costing less than 1$) we fell into bed exhausted. The next day we hiked for roughly 2 hours to see the Wli falls. Beautiful. It was so lovely to be back in nature. Ever since I stopped going to summer camp, I have really missed that aspect of life. We were rewarded at the end of the hike with freshly cut up mangoes the size of miniature footballs. I crowded round the TV with the villagers to watch Ghana tie Australia while my friends shopped at the surrounding stalls. Sunday we toured a tiny village called Helekpe where we saw how Kente cloth is woven (quite a process) and were privileged to a drum and dance performance.
My Twi is coming along nicely – I now know how to say I’d like to buy one pineapple please (Meh peh abrobay bakoon may pow ocho) and how to insist that I do not need a plastic bag (Mem peh rubber bag) I realized that was one of the first phrases I learned in Cantonese which I still remember to this day (Mm sigh gow doy). My next challenge is to learn what a marriage proposal sounds like so that I don’t get into trouble when I politely smile and nod (as I did when the “mate” in the tro-tro asked for my hand last week prompting the other passengers to burst into laughter).
And just in case you think I’m not doing any work – I am currently researching lessons that can be learned from other countries regarding the efficient management of oil revenues. On the agenda today is Norway. Their government’s initiatives are quite remarkable.
This blog is sponsored in part by Campbell Cohen
