Leaving Africa

Blog update 8 – Sunday, Oct. 11, Accra

Then there's the time when the trip ends. Inevitably, it leads to retrospection. There's been some truly wonderful moments – taking in the bustling, chaotic scenery of Accra for the first time, goofing off with kids who just want to be your best friend, inhaling the African air a hundred feet above the rainforest floor. And then there are there are the bizarre things you won't forget – watching Nigerian soap operas on a bus as it weaves through two-way traffic, swimming through a sea of Africans in an overflowing market, drinking coconut milk straight from the fruit, sleeping in a beach-side house in a country recovering from war, eating food that contains things you can't pronounce. Most importantly, however, there are the genuine moments – the things that spark new friendships, deep conversations, and dreams of what could be. Three weeks in Africa. This is what I had hoped for.

It seems that on overseas trips, two weeks feels like a visit. Three weeks and you start to feel settled in. That's where I am right now. But we leave tomorrow night. I'll miss West Africa – its beauty and vibrancy, its problems and potentials. But I'm thankful for the people I've met and the experiences I've had. It's a place you can't visit just once.

Since writing my last post. A few things have happened worth noting. The first is that on our last night in Liberia as I slept on the floor with couch cushions, I was suddenly awakened when I felt something scramble across my leg. I woke up startled, but the room was pitch black and I couldn't see what it was. Others were sleeping in the room, so I used a cell phone light to investigate, but didn't find anything. Later, I told Al about this and he said he had the same thing happen to him – but he found the culprit: a cockroach. I can only assume the worst. Somehow I went back to sleep.

That morning, we drove to the airport. One of the odd things about airports in West Africa is that there seems to be a hundred airport staff on duty doing little or nothing. But the one thing this ensures is that at least one or two people will check your passport. In this case, it was nine people. I counted them. First the guy outside the airport, then the guy at the entrance to security, then the woman at the desk to check in to the check-in line, then the woman at the check-in desk who sent you to another desk with another woman to check your passport, then the guy to get in the immigration officer line, then the immigration officer, then the guy at the entrance to the second security line, then the woman before you board the plane. Nine people. Glad I didn't forget my passport.

But after all that, we sat in the terminal for about four hours. Our flight was delayed for “administrative reasons” we were told. The truth eventually came out: There was a disagreement over whether the airline, Virgin Nigeria, had paid the Liberia airport all the fees due. Not sure who is to blame – the Liberian airport folks or the airline people. Either way, our morning flight turned into a late afternoon flight.

In Accra, we said goodbye to Okorie and Viashima, who went on to Nigeria. That night, we dined at the Pizza Inn where we've become regulars (or something close to it). Tomorrow we pack up. Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers.