Crazy Friday

I was stepping out of the house in the evening when the penalty shoot out between Ghana and Brazil begun. Now, I’m not crazy about soccer (I can almost hear gasps of disbelief), but this match was special plus there was no way I was going to interrupt my mum’s help, Esinu by asking her to close the gate after me at this time. That would be cruel. Now she was crazy about soccer. She was on her knees praying in Ewe as the penalties went on and I’d like to think she and the thousands of religious Ghanaians had a part in the final outcome, because it was unbelievable! We actually beat Brazil, won the under 20 world cup and became the first African country to do this! Esinu and I jumped up and down, screaming like crazy women.

photograph courtesy of joyonline

"Mawu akpe ka ka ka!" - Thank you God! Esinu kept repeating along with other praises in Ewe.

I’m not a religious person so I don’t know if it was her moving passion for soccer, the excitement of winning the cup, hormones or a combination of all three that moved me to tears.

The streets were just as infectious, with crowds of half naked men taking over roads and chanting in unison. Everyone was dancing in the streets, car horns blaring non stop, crazy drivers weaving from lane to lane. It was one big party. I loved it!

Later that night at Alliance Francaise and the World Jazz music festival. This was a very entertaining jazz collaboration.

At Chelsea's Place for a friend of a friend’s birthday party which featured some more world music and 'bless the mic' hip hop session.

Even later that night. Messed up my mum’s car tire from running over a sharp object on a very dark street. It wasn’t the greatest way to end the night, but it could have been a lot worse. Thank goodness I wasn’t speeding and thank goodness I didn't get robbed.

Replacing the front tires the next morning.

On the set of One Month to Live

lakeside estates

While the estates are near a lake, it's not exactly the kind of lake you'd like to go for a picnic beside or go for a romantic stroll along. The locals have a more practical use for it, car washing, bathing, washing clothes and quenching the thirst of a herd of cattle

Random guy wants in on the picture :)

African Animation Festival - Animafrik 09

an animated feature from Egypt made about 80 years ago!

some of the award winners

The guy in front is trying to figure out which award goes to whom :)

Thats the way things work around here - part 4 of 4

I finally got my stuff from the harbour after another long day. I came with my own pair of sneakers this time. A decent enough customs lady went through my boxes without much fuss. The delays were from more paper work and 3 different inspection points, which were more of time wasters and money makers for the customs people than anything else:

Vehicles queued up before the gate, waiting to be inspected

Just before the gate, another customs agent had to inspect the already inspected items, then the police, then some sort of BNI related officer. None of them actually opened a single box, but just made us wait around and ask all sorts of unnecessary and at times inappropriate questions. I guess these are the people the bribe money my agent collected from me went to. Even the security guards had to be bribed or ‘they’ll worrry’ me as he put it. All in all I think I spent only slightly less money in total bringing in my personal items from abroad, than a friend of mine who brought in more items and for commercial use. It didn’t make sense. But lots of things here don’t make sense, that’s just the way things work around here.

Thats the way things work around here - part 3

My clearing agent asked me to meet him between 10:30 and 11:00 am at Jubilee House at Tema harbour. I was there at 10:30 and called the ‘agent’ “I’m on my way”, was his prompt response. At 11:15 am there was still no sign of him, so I called again.

He sounded impatient, “you have to wait an hour, madam”

“one hour!” I shouted

“yes madam, one hour”

“so why did you ask me to come here at this time”

“madam, its a procedure we have to follow, that’s the way things work here”

“wait, don’t the customs people go for lunch in an hour?”

“yes, so it will have to be 2pm, then” he added nonchallantly.

I was livid at this point. “So why the hell did you ask me to show up in the morning!”

It was pointless. We were on different planets.

Around 12:30 my ‘agent‘ shows up and we have to sit and wait for another hour for some document or the other to be processed. At one point I look up and the ‘agent’ was nowhere in sight. A young man comes to give me a message from the agent that he had to rush back to the office because he had forgotten some documents that were needed. Unbelievable!

The agent shows up after 40 minutes and we wait some more, then we drive to another part of the harbour, and wait another 45 minutes for a document to be processed. Finally at around 3:30 we were given clearance to the warehouse where the shipment was held. I was turned back because I had open toed shoes and had to ‘rent’ a used pair of sneakers outside. It was such an ‘eeky’ feeling wearing used, sweaty sneakers without socks. But I had to focus on the task at hand, which was to get my stuff out today.

At 3:45 I entered the yard with the agent donning a reflector vest (also mandatory) and my temporary sneakers.

Most of the customs agents were in their main office, watching a soccer match. I groaned internally, it didn’t look good. I saw my so called agent beckoning me to come and talk to one of the customs guys.

“Madam, he said it won’t be possible today, oh...so maybe you can talk to him” the agent informed me as I got closer, and promptly stepped out of the way. I glared at him, what was I paying this guy for again?

The custom’s guy told me it was almost 4pm and that because of the delays in processing the necessary documents I won’t be able to get my items today. Besides the customs woman who was supposed to do the inspection just came from lunch.

Et puis alors? I thought to myself

“you go and come back tomorrow morning, eh?” he added

I tried to explain that this was the 2nd day I was trying to get my things cleared and that I’d had to get a truck on 2 occasions for nothing. But he wasn’t interested in what I had to say, in fact I was blocking his view of the telly. He kept moving his head from side to side as I pleaded my case.

“Madam, I said it won’t be possible today, please go and come back tomorrow, eh?” he insisted, looking past me.

“Please you’re blocking our view!” one of the customs people yelled from the back of the semi circle formed around the tv.

And that was that. I returned home for a second time, empty handed and very frustrated.

Lots of deep breathing on the way home. Tomorrow is another day.

Thats the way things work around here part 2

So, my things finally arrived from Vancity via Belgium on the 27th of September at Tema harbour, and I was finally asked by my ‘agent’ to come to customs today. I got there at 10:00 am with 2 vehicles, one for transporting my stuff. Silly me, I was under the illusion that my things would be cleared today. After hours of sitting around, waiting for the agent to process documents (I wondered why he didn’t do all this before and what the point was of my being there), I finally went to see the freight forwarders around 3pm. My agent had told me weeks ago that I’d have to pay them about 300ghc for handling fees. Today he tells me that it’s actually over 500ghc and that he’s shocked himself at the increase in fees. He suggested I go and beg the woman at the freight forwarders office to ‘come down, small.’ (somehow I assumed that was his job??)

The woman there told me that the container had not yet been opened, so I’d have to come back on Monday when they opened it, but in the meantime I had to pay 520 GHC. I’m not skilled at begging or coaxing or convincing anyone to do anything, but I tried my darnedest to beg for a reduction. She insisted it was the standard and that if it was too much for me, I should pay half now and half on Monday.

“What the shippers don’t tell you in North America or Europe”, she added “Is that you have to pay here as well.”

So we sat there, for about 20 minutes, her with her arms outstretched waiting for the money, and me begging for a reduction, in shock at the exorbitant fee I had to pay. Perhaps the expression on my face showed what I was feeling inside, along with dismay, disappointment and incredulousness.

She brought out a fat calculator and punched in some numbers.

“OK, you’ll pay 410 ghc”, she said finally.

I was tired and just wanted to get out of there. I paid with pretty much all that I had on me. I was so disappointed with my agent. Unfortunately, I had paid him for his services already and so I was stuck with him.