Rescued by Interrogation

“Where are you going, madam?” the lady behind me asked politely. I turned around to find an attractive, middle-aged lady staring at me with tired, droopy eyes awaiting my response. It was around 7.30 pm and we were in a matatu (public transport minivan) leaving the border town between Ghana and Cote D’Ivoire (Ivory Coast). I had just settled in as the last passenger in a seat beside the slide door, rather relieved when I realized I had just caught the last one heading to the capital city, located 2-3 hours away. I was apprehensive not just because of the late hour, or travelling solo. I had left the English speaking zone behind in Ghana and was now totally in a French speaking zone.

She repeated her question this time a little louder in her West African laden accent and I responded ‘Abidjan’ in a low voice, grateful that there was someone who spoke English for company during the journey (and a lady too – Thank God!).

I smiled and politely added, ‘Oh you speak English!’ Her tired expression didn’t change as she responded with a simple ‘yes’ (wasn’t it obvious??). She went on to explain that she was a business lady also heading to Abidjan. She had travelled from Lagos and had been left by her bus due to delays at immigration (I had gone through the same …a story for another day).

Everyone else was quiet, and as the rickety-creaky matatu moved us noisily forward towards the deepening darkness, I could feel the atmosphere thickening with anxiety-laden fatigue. I turned forward thinking we were done with our niceties and settled, similarly tired, yet bracing for the long ride ahead.

She wasn’t done… “Where are you staying?” she asked, raising her voice. By now, I could hear a subtle slur in her speech, implying that perhaps she might have imbibed some liquid courage to cope with the frustrations of immigration? Business? Life? Or just as a social pastime…?

I stalled trying to remember the name of the hotel and mumbled over my shoulder what I could remember. She wasn’t satisfied and asked again, ‘where did you say?’

By this time, I realized Ms self-appointed guardian angel Jane-Bond-to-the-rescue was taking charge of me and I was under prior interrogation. It seemed rude (and futile) to point out that it wasn’t her business. Plus, I was in unknown territory and needed to cooperate to get help (and possibly restore the quiet in the vehicle). I decided to retrieve the printed page with the hotel name and handed it to her.

Here’s how it went down, with me attempting to keep my voice low and hers increasing with each response:

Jane Bond: Yopougon?... Yopougon! That’s too far from the city!
Me: (quiet, shocked into silence, what could I say?)
Jane Bond: Yopougon… Yopougon… it’s too far, you must change your accommodation; are you alone or you’re meeting someone?
Me (whispering): Um…alone… er… um… it’s already booked, so.. um… I’ll have to stay there
Jane Bond: No! This is booking dot com you can cancel it and book another one
Me (calmly trying to keep it hush).. it’s too late and I already booked

Wananchi (passengers) to the rescue in multiple voices: Leave her alone! She’s already paid! It’s too late! Let her be! It’s already booked!
(I was astonished! You mean so many were actually listening-in with understanding…?? I cringed at how my accommodation had turned into a public debate...)

Jane Bond (persisting): aah! Booking dot com is free to book, she must cancel it now and book near to the city, let me check…
Me (in my humblest pleading assertion retrieving my printout): Thanks Madam, but I’ve
already paid and it’s too late, I’ll just go there.

[It was a lie…I hadn’t; but as per T&Cs I would have to anyway since it was my check-in day. In any case, was this the time to cancel and trust Ms Jane Bond to find me an alternative???]

Suddenly, from the front seat near the driver boomed a deep base: “Madam, I’m going to Yopougon, I will help you. My name is Francis... Don’t worry, I will help you.”

Silence… then relief, then relaxation. Madam Jane Bond conceded defeat and all went quiet.

The accommodation debate was the first of many other internal and roadside shenanigans that took place enroute to the city, resulting in a 3-hour trip taking nearly 5 hours! However, after a good night’s sleep, a hearty breakfast delivered to my room the next day (at no extra cost) and an interesting tour of the city with the help of someone I found on Facebook that very morning, the Nollywood-type road drama was made worthwhile!!

Traveling across Africa by road using public transport is a fascinating experience in character development. To survive alive, you will need to fortify your patience, embrace humility, stimulate inner humor, add some compassion and above all endure with courage. Relax, whether you are aware of it or not, it’s a necessary process of personal growth, to strengthen your resilience and equip you for life. Brace for the adventure ahead, more often than not, you will arrive in one piece (eventually) and live to tell the tale! 🙂

Add this country to your bucket list if it isn’t already! And if you can afford to, consider travelling by air… 🙂

Whichever way, be bodacious and keep travelling to enjoy unique experiences and to create memories to last a lifetime!

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