It was Saturday night on October 6 and Alison and I hopped into a taxi on the way back from Hannah’s apartment in Osu (where I had dropped off groceries earlier that day) after having dinner with the JHR crew and a few other various volunteers and expats.
Exhausted from the last several days of events adjusting to life in Accra, finding a place to live, planning for our upcoming placements and meeting so many new friends and faces, bed was our only priority. Alison was also battling a bout of the flu and needed to rest herself back to health.
After getting lost on the way in the cab since all dirt roads look the same day or night, we finally found our home, which is located in Labadi. Our cab driver, who we came to know as Richard, insisted on driving us right to our gate, refusing to allow us to walk alone even part way in the dark.
Since no houses, restaurants, businesses or any location really has an address, you must look out for landmarks to communicate to taxi drivers where they need to take you and negotiate a price from there. Ours happen to be either Jokers, a local restaurant/bar/nightclub or MacBells, a former manufacturing company that used to have its headquarters around where we live.
We ended up paying Richard 5 Cedis (about US$5) –four times the amount he should be given – since he was so patient and kind. Suckers! From there, Richard gave us his cell number to call if we ever needed a cab again. Little did we know we would be calling him back again so soon.
Relieved we had finally found home, Alison and I jumped out of the car, but when we tried to open the gate we found it to be locked. We looked at each other in disbelief.
Alison tried again.
Gate locked.
Now just to give you an idea of what type of gate we are dealing with. It is about seven feet high, solid metal with a huge sliding metal lock on each side ... so you can either lock it from the outside or lock it from the inside. It had been locked from the inside. Disrupted by the noise of someone trying to open the gate, a guard dog, we just found out about, began barking incessantly.
Following a fit of delirious laughter a few “you’ve got to be $*%#’ing kidding me’s!”, we decided to try calling Jane, one of our roommates, even though she was fast asleep, having returned home hours before us. There was no answer. To boot, Alison’s cell phone was also flat out of battery and mine was on its last bar.
Another bout of delirious laughter and few more “you’ve got to be f#$%'ing kidding me’s!” and we decided to phone back Richard. He actually answered our call and promised he would be back “in a few minutes” to pick us up after he dropped off his latest passenger.
Skeptical about what a few minutes actually meant in Ghanaian time, Alison used a wooden fence about a foot off the ground to try and boost herself up and over the concrete wall (which the gate is connected to), only to be met by the barking dog, who was now sitting in the middle of the driveway glaring up at her. This idea quickly dissipated.
Plopping ourselves down onto the curb, we phoned Hannah to let her know the situation and that we were likely on our way back to crash at her place. Fits of laughter continued and our amusement extended over to a young man across the street, who had been standing staring at us for several minutes as we tried to resolve the predicament. He too was now smiling and chuckling- thank God, because his presence was actually making me very nervous.
Twenty minutes passed and my phone rang again. It was Richard explaining he was driving down our dirt road. We saw headlights in the distance.
Though we got lost again on our way back to Osu, turning down a few different roads before finally coming across Hannah’s place, we did make it there safely.
So, 8 Cedis later (we paid Richard another 3 Cedis – double the amount again. Suckers!) and following another round of hysterical school girl laughter between the three of us (which likely awoke Hanna’s 37-year-old roommate from England, Dominic) we were resting soundly on two couches - Alison using an ironing board cover and me using a tiny table cloth as a blanket.
The catch...
The next morning we found out from Jane that there was a latch on our gate that we could lift, reach our hand through, unlocking it from the inside.
WE WERE NEVER ACTUALLY LOCKED OUT!
On the other hand, had we slept soundly in our own beds, we would never have run into that Ghanaian Pentecostal church service wandering home from Hannah’s the next morning … now would we have?
Exhausted from the last several days of events adjusting to life in Accra, finding a place to live, planning for our upcoming placements and meeting so many new friends and faces, bed was our only priority. Alison was also battling a bout of the flu and needed to rest herself back to health.
After getting lost on the way in the cab since all dirt roads look the same day or night, we finally found our home, which is located in Labadi. Our cab driver, who we came to know as Richard, insisted on driving us right to our gate, refusing to allow us to walk alone even part way in the dark.
Since no houses, restaurants, businesses or any location really has an address, you must look out for landmarks to communicate to taxi drivers where they need to take you and negotiate a price from there. Ours happen to be either Jokers, a local restaurant/bar/nightclub or MacBells, a former manufacturing company that used to have its headquarters around where we live.
We ended up paying Richard 5 Cedis (about US$5) –four times the amount he should be given – since he was so patient and kind. Suckers! From there, Richard gave us his cell number to call if we ever needed a cab again. Little did we know we would be calling him back again so soon.
Relieved we had finally found home, Alison and I jumped out of the car, but when we tried to open the gate we found it to be locked. We looked at each other in disbelief.
Alison tried again.
Gate locked.
Now just to give you an idea of what type of gate we are dealing with. It is about seven feet high, solid metal with a huge sliding metal lock on each side ... so you can either lock it from the outside or lock it from the inside. It had been locked from the inside. Disrupted by the noise of someone trying to open the gate, a guard dog, we just found out about, began barking incessantly.
Following a fit of delirious laughter a few “you’ve got to be $*%#’ing kidding me’s!”, we decided to try calling Jane, one of our roommates, even though she was fast asleep, having returned home hours before us. There was no answer. To boot, Alison’s cell phone was also flat out of battery and mine was on its last bar.
Another bout of delirious laughter and few more “you’ve got to be f#$%'ing kidding me’s!” and we decided to phone back Richard. He actually answered our call and promised he would be back “in a few minutes” to pick us up after he dropped off his latest passenger.
Skeptical about what a few minutes actually meant in Ghanaian time, Alison used a wooden fence about a foot off the ground to try and boost herself up and over the concrete wall (which the gate is connected to), only to be met by the barking dog, who was now sitting in the middle of the driveway glaring up at her. This idea quickly dissipated.
Plopping ourselves down onto the curb, we phoned Hannah to let her know the situation and that we were likely on our way back to crash at her place. Fits of laughter continued and our amusement extended over to a young man across the street, who had been standing staring at us for several minutes as we tried to resolve the predicament. He too was now smiling and chuckling- thank God, because his presence was actually making me very nervous.
Twenty minutes passed and my phone rang again. It was Richard explaining he was driving down our dirt road. We saw headlights in the distance.
Though we got lost again on our way back to Osu, turning down a few different roads before finally coming across Hannah’s place, we did make it there safely.
So, 8 Cedis later (we paid Richard another 3 Cedis – double the amount again. Suckers!) and following another round of hysterical school girl laughter between the three of us (which likely awoke Hanna’s 37-year-old roommate from England, Dominic) we were resting soundly on two couches - Alison using an ironing board cover and me using a tiny table cloth as a blanket.
The catch...
The next morning we found out from Jane that there was a latch on our gate that we could lift, reach our hand through, unlocking it from the inside.
WE WERE NEVER ACTUALLY LOCKED OUT!
On the other hand, had we slept soundly in our own beds, we would never have run into that Ghanaian Pentecostal church service wandering home from Hannah’s the next morning … now would we have?
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