Back from Lomé…at last!
posted by Jesse on Monday, September 14, 2009 at 5:24 am
What do you get when you combine a broken bridge, 200 semi trucks, angry taxi drivers, and four tired missionaries? A big adventure!
After a few days in Lomé, Jim and I started heading back for Kara around 11 am, which normally means arriving home around 5 pm. Around the half way point, however, things started to get interesting. We came up on a 4 mile-long line of semi trucks that had been building up since at least Monday. It was at this point that we just “happened” to run into a couple other missionary friends from Kara who were only two cars ahead of us. They had a map, and we had no clue, so we decided to follow them.
We got turned around, drove back to the last village, and asked about a road on the map that could have brought us out north of the bridge. The locals, however, told us that the road is impassable. So at this point we had two options: sit in traffic, going nowhere; or sit on the side of the road drinking Coke, going nowhere. The decision was unanimous.
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Once we started seeing vehicles coming from towards the bridge, we figured it was time to move out. Our progress was stopped short, though, by all the traffic trying to go north. After two hours of stop and go, we were diverted off the main road and onto a narrow dirt road. This road wasn’t at all a problem for our 4×4 vehicles, but there were all kinds of small cars, overloaded taxi vans, and huge semi trucks trying to make one lane into two. As night fell we slowly crept along, hopping out of the vehicles from time to time in order to direct traffic, push vehicles out of the mud, or just to find out why we weren’t moving.
A couple hours later, we were past all the traffic and on our way to wherever that road would take us. Five and a half hours after starting into the traffic jam, we came out a whopping 7 miles north of where we started!
Now it’s late, we’re tired, we’re hungry, but at least we’re past all that mess…right? Let me interrupt my own story here and explain something. I have learned two things about frustrating circumstances in Africa: first, that you don’t get too excited about a bad situation getting better because it’s usually not over; and second, that you don’t get too worked up about it because it just makes everything worse. Just take a deep breath, say “WAWA” (West Africa Wins Again), and go with the flow.
So, not even an hour of driving on the main road brought us to the toll booth where we would normally pay 300 francs and pass right through. But not tonight! A line of taxi vans was blocking up both lanes of the road, making it impossible to pass. Walking up to the booths, we saw a group of about 150 people standing around, some talking, some arguing, and some shouting loudly at nobody in particular, and some just watching the whole scene like a movie that you don’t want to be in.
We eventually found out that several taxi van drivers wanted to protest the bridge situation by blocking the road and refusing to pay their toll. We soon realized that there was nothing we were going to do or say to fix the problem. They wanted to voice their complaint to the local authorities, so until they showed up nothing was going to change. We had the idea of just jumping the curb with our vehicles, and going around everyone, but we seriously felt like it wouldn’t have been the smartest move at that point.
We felt like the best place to be at this time was back at our vehicles, which is where we stayed until everything settled down. Once the local “préfet” arrived, they came to an agreement that those who wanted to pay their toll and leave could do so, and those who didn’t could stay as long as they wanted. The only problem is that the people blocking the road were the ones staying and they had no desire to move so that everyone else could leave.
With the situation having settled down a bit, and us getting more tired by the minute, we went back to the curb-jumping idea. We moved several small concrete barricades out of the way, payed our toll, jumped the curb, and drove off into the sunset. Well, the sunset part isn’t exactly true since we missed it by several hours.
In all, the 6 hour trip took 12. A 12 hour trip doesn’t sound that bad, but I’m sure you’ve heard this phrase before: “You just had to be there.” Honestly though, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything! It was a great adventure and something that we’ll remember for the rest of our lives. I can imagine us missionaries sitting around 20 years from now laughing about the “good ‘ole days.” Just do me a favor and please tell me if 20 years from now I’m repeating this story over and over again as if it’s the first time you’ve heard it.
Category: personal
