Unbelievable…it’s one of my favorite words and one that translates well into French—incroyable! Unbelievable is probably the most perfect word that I can find in my vocabulary to proclaim the events of yesterday.
Jesse and I had been in Lomé since Monday and had finally finished up all our errands and shopping. We meet up one last time with JJ and Jon before embarking on the 6 hour drive from Lomé to Kara. We pulled out of the capital around 11 am and started driving north. We had passed over a bridge on the way down that had been closed from two lanes to one lane due to the rains having washed out the foundation of the bridge. Speculation was that the bridge had either been repaired or was still operational for light traffic. However, when we arrived to near the bridge at 2 p.m. we soon discovered that we had a mess on our hands. The traffic was backed up 5 kilometers (3 miles) with trucks on layer deep on a two lane road and in some places two rows deep. The story was that the truckers out of protest had blocked the road and won’t let any more light traffic across the bridge while they had to just sit around and wait.
Not knowing full what to do we waited a few minutes and then notices some other missionaries from Kara just a few cars ahead of us. It was Brett and Mark. So, we got out chatted a couple minutes with them and decided to head back about 10 kilometers to an intersection and try to take some back roads. Well, that didn’t pan out due to the roads being completely eroded and another minor bridge out there as well. So, we decided to sit back and drink a Coke while waiting to hear news about the bridge.
Finally, after about an hour or so we hear news that the local governor of the area had brokered some sort of compromise with the truckers and the green light was given and vehicles where moving again. This was terrific news to us and so we hopped in the vehicle and headed back towards the bridge. Little did we know that there was 3 solid miles of traffic. It took us 4.5 hours to navigate to the bridge, sometimes having to go off the road due to multiple tractor trailers being parked on the road.
We arrived near the bridge and were waved onto a detour. Remember, there were no signs, the road we were coming off is the only road heading north and it’s the only paved road (being 2 lanes wide). It’s is en effet, the transportation artery for the north from the south as well as Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger via Togo. So, we are driving down an unmarked detour following and passing as many folks as we can. Dark was descending as we veered off from a paved road to a dirt path. It was barely wide enough for two cars. It was however, very smooth to start. Apparently, the government had been working on this solution for days. They had several graders, a bulldozer and a roller out working on the dirt road getting it ready for us.
But, despite our best efforts, it seems that the semis had found us. They had started to come through from the other direction. This dirt road was barely wide enough for two vehicles and had mud ditches on either side making it treacherous at best to pass. Well, the roads foundations were solid enough for the trucks and several were stuck along the way and one rolled over on the side of the bush road.
Each stuck truck made for a unique situation. Many times, Mark, Brett and/or I would all be out directing traffic, talking with the Togolese or searching out a solution to pass the waiting traffic. Around 9 pm we emerged out of the bush a full 7 hours after encounter the traffic jam south of the bridge. It took 7 full hours to travel 24 miles. It was the most insane things I’ve ever encounter since moving here.
The bridge and then the bush road were really just the first two steps of the overall grand trifecta. The third leg of our most amazing adventure was completely unexpected. We finished the detour and were on the main road heading north. We had spent 7 hours traveling 24 miles but felt pretty confident in the progress we would make ahead. We though that we would be home in less then two hours but then, we arrived to the toll booths.
Normally the toll is just a formality. You pay your 60-75 cents and pass through without issues. However, on this particular evening with ramification outreaching and overextending anything that I could explain, the taxi van drivers decided out of protest that they wouldn’t pay their toll to cross—after all they believed the tolls are to repair the roads. Well, the problem that developed was if they didn’t pay they didn’t get through. So they in effect, blocked the road going north and south with taxis working on both sides of the toll roads.
We sat in, on, around and near our vehicles for at least another 90 minutes not know what would be done and if we would even be leaving that night. The local governor arrived and started negotiating with crowds. Finally the decision was made, if you pay then you can go through. If you don’t pay they you can’t go through. Well, we wanted to get home, take a warm shower and sleep in our own beds. Poor, Brett and Mark had come all the way from Accra, Ghana and their day had started on the road at 6 a.m.
So, Brett, Mark, Jesse and a hand full of other Togolesse had moves some barricades resting on the side of the road to make a clear path for us to get around the toll booths and traffic and ultimately back on the road. We paid the toll and clicked our trucks in four wheel drive and jumped a couple curbs and made it past everyone and back on the road. It was now around 9 p.m. a full 10 hours after we started our trip and 4 hours longer then we should have been on the road.
Stopping to fill up on fuel in a local town we decided to drive the next 2 hours straight through to Kara heading through the not so safe mountainous roads by dark. However, God protected us as He had all day long and around 11 p.m. we were pulling into Kara proper.
It was perhaps the most insane, most incredible, most bizarre, most unsure, most exhilarating, most fun, and most unbelievable day of my life. Yet, I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.
