Guest Author: Jordan Taylor
At 7:30, we awoke to what sounded like the jingle of an ice-cream truck that was loud and just would not stop, no matter how long we tried to sleep through it. Mom informed us that this sound was actually a ZoomLion garbage truck, and the jingle was intended to alert everyone to bring their trash. I think I prefer the American method where we get no warning that the garbage truck is at our doorstep and if we miss then we still pay the bill. Haha!
The day’s plan was to go shopping for a while, come back and pack up, and then head to the airport for our night flight at 10:30 pm.
Lindsay purchased some rings yesterday and needed to have them resized at the (legitimate) jewelry store. Mom and Dad joined us in Lindsay’s first taxi ride. The taxis are all over, and to hail one you simply need to stand on the side of the road. I am sure it also helps that we are white and stick out like sore thumbs! The taxi that stopped was…interesting. I believe the word Lindsay used was “rattletrap.” This vehicle was an Opel Corsa, which Wikipedia describes as a “super mini,” and it had seen some rough days. Cracks filled the windshield. The driver’s seat and right passenger seat lurched backward when pressed with body weight. There was no side panel on the driver’s door, and I doubt any of the gauges worked. There was a makeshift wire travelling from inside the radio to the rear view mirror; I think it functioned as an antenna. The car’s shocks were essentially non-existent, which caused the undercarriage to scrape across every speed bump, no matter how slowly it was traversed. The back hatch showed a three-inch gap in one section where one could watch the passing pavement. A mass of wires hung beneath the driver-side panel, and the driver hot-wired it to start and stop. The only seatbelt that worked was the driver’s. Welcome to Ghana!
What the car lacked in safety features and reliability, the driver made up for in pleasantry. His English wasn’t the best, but he and my parents were able to communicate well enough. He asked why we were in Ghana and how long we had been here. Boy, he got a kick out of learning Mom first came to Ghana in the 70’s. I think he was a bit incredulous, but then Mom produced her Ghanaian driver’s license that showed it was first issued in 1974. He roared with delight!
The traffic in Accra is atrocious. There are road signs and rules, but they appear to be flexible. Everyone is out for himself. We have discovered that Ghanaians have an interesting inability to form and keep a line, as everyone vies to get to the front at the expense of everyone else, and their driving matches this mindset. The traffic lights seemed to take forever. I often found myself looking at lights to ensure myself they were still functioning. The traffic on the main roads was bad, but so was traffic on the side roads, which was slow and congested. This, in turn, encourages drivers to creep out into an already congested intersection to cut into line, and this makes the problem even worse.
After dropping off Lindsay’s jewelry, we went back to the hotel to collect Charity and Faith for another round of shopping. There is no way all of us could fit into the Opel, so Dad retained the original driver’s service and hailed another taxi. Our first stop was the Wild Gecko. It was a higher-end establishment, and the prices matched. Still, it had interesting merchandise. It also had two spot nose monkeys in a cage out back. One of the monkeys hated women, and it lunged, bared its teeth, and hissed. It was cute nonetheless.
After the Wild Gecko, we went back to the hotel and packed. We had several hours still, so we hailed some new taxis and went back to the Osu district, which is where we had started our shopping on Thursday. We still were in search of a few things. Fortunately our hunting, haggling, and gathering was a success overall.
Finally it was time to go back to the hotel, shower, and head to the airport. We again hired Richard, who had picked us from the airport when we arrived. He looked under the weather and said he had a headache and cold, though he didn’t think it was malaria. He said he didn’t have time to get medicine at the pharmacist–these are often hole-in-the-wall shops where most any medicine can be purchased without a prescription–so Mom gave him a couple of ibuprofen. He was thankful.
Overall, check-in was smooth with the exception of Mom and Dad’s large funeral drum that was the size of a metal garbage can like the one inhabited by Oscar the Grouch. Dad had done a great job of rigging up makeshift protection for it that included metal headpans for the top and bottom, a nylon handle, and a number of nylon ropes to secure everything together. The one problem is that it was not plastic wrapped. For some reason, Ghanaian airports are fans of wrapping anything that does not look like traditional luggage. They have plastic-wrap stations to automate and expedite the wrapping process. Ultimately, the drum was sent for wrapping, and we all were able to move on.
As we were waiting for our flight to depart, we were approached by a very kind airport employee who asked if we were willing to do a survey. We agreed since we had nothing to do for several hours. The questions were mainly related to tourism. We all love Ghana, so we were complimentary, but we were also candid. For example, we were able to work in our complaints about being harassed by people trying to “help” us push our luggage carts at the airport exit, airport workers all having their hand out and expecting a tip even though they have done nothing for us, horrendous road conditions outside of the large cities, the inordinate number of speed bumps (we pointed out the 119 bumps on the drive from Tamale to Bolgatanga), and the numerous security checkpoints on the main roads where police officers ask for favors such as rides or tips. I think the lady got more than she bargained for. She thanked us and moved on to someone else. We suspect that not all of our comments will make it into the final report.
At 8:30 PM we went to our gate and were able to board on time. The flight from Accra to JFK in New York was uneventful. Right now it is 11:00 AM and we are sitting in JFK waiting for our flight to Atlanta, which has been delayed a bit. Mom and Dad have already flown on an earlier flight. If the Lord wills, the rest of our trip will go smoothly and we will arrive safely in Huntsville this evening.
Our arrival in the States is bittersweet: On the one hand I know we all are excited to see our family and friends again (and our cats, too), but on the other hand we are going to miss our friends in Ghana and the work there. It has been exhausting, but it has given us a new appreciation for the work Mom and Dad do and for the stamina it requires. Sometimes people will joke that Mom and Dad are going on vacation when they go back to the work in Ghana, but that could not be further from the truth. I know we may be partial, but our parents are truly special people who work tirelessly and nonstop for the kingdom of the Lord and for the people of Ghana. And they could not do this without the support of all the individuals and congregations who support this good work.
May God bless you all, and may God continue to bless the work in Ghana!
In His service,
Jordan and Lindsay Taylor
Charity and Faith Holladay
Stephen and Kandie Taylor
