My friend, Sarah, and I had planned a trip to Benin, Togo
and Burkina Faso for two weeks as a little break from Cameroon and to take
advantage of the low airfare within the continent. When I say we planned the
trip, what I really mean is that we bought our plane tickets and our visas to
Benin. Due to a lot of extenuating circumstances, we had little more than vague
ideas on what we were actually going to do once we arrived. The most important
thing though – the hotel in Cotonou (capitol of Benin) – was already picked out
and we had their contact information and the prices.
Our flight was set to leave from Douala, the economic
capitol of Cameroon, which is forbidden for volunteers, except in transit. To
get to Douala, I had to hitchhike to Yaounde stay there for the night and get
an early bus to make our 12:45 flight. Not terrible, but tiring and time
consuming.
We get up the morning of our flight at 4:45am to get our
stuff packed up, eat breakfast and meet our taxi that we had ordered the night
before. He was due to arrive at 5:00. Five o’clock comes and goes – 5:15, 5:20.
Our bus was set to leave at 6 and they said you absolutely must be there 30 minutes in advance or they will give away your
seat. Our taxi driver never made it, so one of the case guards walked us the
half mile down the hill to hail another taxi. Luckily, we got one right away
and made great time to the bus.
The agence (bus station) was beautiful! They had pavers,
instead of mud, rocks and goat poo. They had an air-conditioned waiting room
and café, instead of a shaded muddy area with no seats and only prayer mats.
They had baggage handlers. It was
nicer than some airports I've been to. Then the bus itself – new,
air-conditioned, seats big enough for a person, enough space where you only
touch someone if you want to, stewardesses, bathroom, coffee and tea,
croissants and pains au chocolat, music videos. It was so nice! (I have heard
that if you take that bus during lunch or dinner time, that you get shawarma, a
Coke, and a candy bar!)
We arrived in Douala on time with no checkpoints. As we were
sitting in Douala traffic, Sarah and I decided to admire our plane tickets and
visas (“We’re almost there!”), when Sarah comments on how we have enough time
to get something to eat before we head to the airport, since we leave at
3:00pm.
Wait a minute. We leave at 12:45! We don’t have to hurry,
but we should head straight there. That’s when I see it. I had made one of the
most stupid mistakes ever. Instead of booking my flight Douala-Cotonou-Douala,
I managed to do the opposite. I was set to leave Cotonou at 12:45pm.
I thought I was going to vomit right there on that fancy bus
surrounded by grands in nice suits.
We head straight to the airport. My skin is a delicate shade
of green. We go inside. We look for the office for Arik Air. There isn’t one.
We ask for the check-in desk. There is no one there. We wait.
After a couple of hours, Arik Air employees start to arrive,
but no one really wants to talk to a slightly hysterical looking girl as soon
as they get to work. After a little while, all the passengers line up to check
in. I’m maybe sixth in line and when I get to the front, I present my passport
and flight reservation and say (with a minimum of voice cracking), “There’s a
problem with my ticket. It’s from Cotonou to Douala, instead of Douala to
Cotonou.” They sent me to the problem child counter and Sarah checked in.
One of the employees takes my reservation and copies down my
passport number and says he will fix it in the back. He disappears for 30
minutes. When he comes back, he says that there’s a problem, so he has to go
into town to the Arik Air office to fix it. I ask him, “Am I going to be on
this flight?” He tells me that he is taking the same flight, so he promises
that I will be on it. I tried to remain hopeful, but it is a very Cameroonian
thing to tell you that everything will be fine and that there is no problem,
when there clearly is a huge problem. He says he’ll be back in 30 minutes.
Thirty minutes comes and goes. One hour. An hour and a half.
Sarah and I plan where we’ll meet in Cotonou, if I don’t make that day’s
flight. Two hours. There are no more passengers and only two Arik Air
employees. They call the flight. Sarah leaves.
I asked the remaining employees, if they had heard from the
guy who left. They answer with a cheery “Nope!” They close up shop and turn off
the lights. Two and a half hours. I ask a passing airport employee, if he knows
what’s going on with the Arik Air flight, “It’s on the ground and the gate is
closed.” Meltdown #1
I take some deep breaths and try to work out a plan. It’s
going to be fine. It’ll all be alright. Ca va aller. I had such a bad feeling about this trip! It’s ok. I just need to
call Peace Corps and get a hotel for tonight. In Douala, which is so dangerous that we’re not allowed to stay here. It’s
okay. Deep breaths. Get your bags together and get to a quiet place to call the
Duty Phone.
As I pass all the passengers heading to Senegal with their
correct flight reservations, because they are not dumbasses, I have Meltdown
#2. I am not the only one embarrassed. Cameroonians are avoiding looking at the
crazy blanche crying in the airport. I find a dark place where I will embarrass
everyone less to calm down, so I can call Peace Corps and not have them panic.
As I take some more deep breaths, I work out what I need to
tell them. “There’s a problem with my flight, so I can’t leave until tomorrow.
I need a place to stay.” I call Peace Corps and Ruth answers. She tells me
where to stay and to call her when I get in the cab and once I get to the
hotel. Just before she hangs up, she tells me that it’ll all be alright.
Cue – Meltdown #3. Luckily this time I’m in the dark, so no
one’s embarrassed except me. I wait until I’m calm again before getting my
stuff together to get a cab. No one would
give me a good price, if I was crying.
Literally as I am walking out the door, the Arik Air walks in and says, “I’ve
been looking for you. You’re getting on that flight.” Being very cool
under pressure, I start crying again
from relief.
He gets someone to print my ticket, labels my backpack as a
heavy carry-on, walks me to the exit visa place, walks me to emigration,
hustles with me to the gate and as I am about to go through security, takes my
toiletries, so they won’t be confiscated. I get into the gate with five minutes
to spare. And just before they close the door, the guy comes in and hands me
all my toiletries, which he had tucked into his vest.
He ended up fixing my flight home as well, free of charge.
I knew from that moment, that anything that our trip wanted
to throw our way would be easy in comparison.
To be continued in Benin, Burkina Faso and Togo.
