The airport city hotel that I had found for us turned out to be a pretty weird one. Aspects of it were definitely luxurious, with large rooms and crystal chandelier in the lobby and a swimming pool, but also – construction fraud. As if their goals had been set so high, but they hadn’t bothered to hire proper contractors. Mom said that that’s typical in this part of the world. Apparently, it’s just the same in Monrovia.
I slept badly, woke up at 4 AM. Roosters were welcoming the morning, even in central Accra – and later, at breakfast by the hotel pool, there was that burned, dusty smell in the air. Breakfast was 45 min late. There were no safety belts in the taxi and the driver didn’t follow traffic rules rules. The border police at the airport was very charming, and then he put a little card in my passport before returning it to me. The card said that if there’s anyone that God loves, IT IS ME, and that this time is still alright for me to give my life to JESUS. What a relief. (BUT, if I think the sun is hot, consider HELL.)
It felt nice, in a way, to have a proper, typical ending to my West Africa trip. I left as I had arrived, and that felt right.
Katja Malmborg 