I got up at 4:40 and went to the airport. I got the tickets, the plane was barely half full, went through security, ate a chocolate croissant for my last CFA’s and watched the sun go up.
This is the last I saw of Burkina Faso: morning fog.
The flight was short and smooth, everything fast and easy at Kotoka International Airport – this is a world I know and can handle. Airports are the same everywhere, except for the slight shades in Africa and South America of a little less efficiency.
The taxi driver might have cheated me a little, but I don’t care. Arrived at hostel, and got to check in even though it wasn’t even 10:30 yet. Went straight to the bunk bed and started watching Buffy, eating the last of my homemade Christmas toffee. And there I stayed, for most of the day.
Made it out just before sunset, to get some cash and drinks. The very sweet shop boy changed my Coca Cola bottle to one with a girl’s name on it: Selasie. The hostel is in a calm residential neighborhood, a lot more western than anything in Ouaga. No sidewalks, though.
This is basically all that I saw of Accra today:
Tomorrow, mom will be here. Things are starting to feel good again.
Going down to the hostel restaurant, it was almost empty, only two Americans possibly gossiping about other volunteers in their organization. Eating fried rice with green beans. Feeling good. I know how things work here. I know how to behave in a backpacker’s hostel. No feeling of being completely wrong anymore.
Now, sitting in bed, listening to a preacher screaming PRAISE JESUS though crappy loudspeakers, as if he’s furious, and the congregation repeating his words like a diffuse echo.
Katja Malmborg 