The Waterfall

On the way back to Accra I had planned to see the Wli waterfall. I got a tro-tro to Hohoe then had to get a share taxi to get to the waterfall. At Hohoe I was swarmed by the usual crowd of taxi drivers and hustlers. One driver said he’d take me there for 20 cedi. “No way”! I told him. “Ok, 5 cedi”, he said dropping it to a quarter of his original price. I got in and fifteen minutes down the road he pulled the car over and demanded more money. “No, we agreed on a price” I stated firmly. “Then I will have to take you back to Hohoe” he said. “Then take me back because you are not getting any more money from me!”

He sat in a huff for a minute, probably trying to call my bluff but I stared him down. I was furious. Finally he kept driving and for the rest of the trip to the waterfall he didn’t say a word. The other people in the taxi did not say a word either.

I felt good winning that one, and when I paid the entrance to the waterfall I refused to take a guide with me. I told the man I want to walk alone, he replied with “do you have a husband?” “Now I am definitely not going in with you” I told him. He smirked and let me go in alone “You come see me on the way back” he called out after me.

Free and feeling good I skipped along the path through the bush. I didn’t care all that much about the waterfall, I just felt so alive. Only ten minutes into my happy skip down the shady green path to the waterfall I overtook two guys.

“Hey white lady!” One yelled at me

“Hey black man!” I yelled back but kept moving.

They caught up with me and started a conversation. Usually I’d be so annoyed I’d have shaken them off in seconds, but one of them I was quite drawn to, which made me think he was gay cause I am always drawn to gay men. Maybe I was drawn to him cause of his orange pants, matching orange check shirt and pink vans. He was also wearing big wooden framed glasses with no lenses in them, just over-sized frames. He was skinny and looked a lot like Steve Urkel. He was a Ghanaian hipster, gentle and potentially a fag, what’s not to like? His name was Erik.  His much larger much more masculine friend introduced himself, though I didn’t bother remembering his name. We walked all the way to the waterfall together, Erik didn’t say much the whole time just quietly smoked one joint after another whilst his friend talked incessantly about himself. He told me he was a musician who played bass and lead guitar, piano, drums, trumpet and he sings “with a voice like Celine Dion”. He sang me a chorus to one of her songs in a nasally high pitch. He then tells me he is an artist, a painter and a sculptor. He told me how good he is at soccer, running, swimming, tennis and volleyball. I think he stopped there because he couldn’t think of any other sport. He went on and on about all of his many talents whilst in my head I start to chant “talk talk talk talk talk” which became “tok tok tok tok tok” and from then on I nicknamed him Mr Tok Tok.

I was pretty good at tuning him out and absorbing the tranquillity of the environment around me. But occasionally I would catch pieces of what he was saying “I am the son of a chief”, “One day I will buy a car, not a fancy one just something simple like an Audi”, “One day I will marry a white girl, an American, and move to America”.

We got to the waterfall which was quite beautiful. I was dying to swim, it was stifling, but I had my day pack with me including my camera, passport and cash, and it just didn’t seem worth the risk. So I sat close enough to the fall to catch the spray. Erik handed me a small plastic satchel with imitation Bailey’s Irish Cream in it. I must have looked sceptical cause he quickly said “I don’t want money for it”.

Erik went for a swim leaving me with Mr Tok Tok in the height of one of his rants. He was telling me that all white women want a man that respects them he told me he knows how to make it look like he respects women so that he can marry a white woman and move to America. He added that he does not want to date a white woman but wants to marry them straight away. He asked how he should go about marrying a white woman. I told him first of all don’t propose straight away.

Erik got out of the water and he didn’t have a towel so I handed him mine. They both gasped. “African’s don’t know how to share” Mr Tok Tok told me. “Your brother can kill you if you are too kind”.

On the walk back the guys offered me a lift on their motorcycle all the way to Boabeng. I told them that at the waterfall reception I had a 20kg pack and they insisted it isn’t a problem. For some reason I accepted the offer.

Mr Tok Tok was the driver, I was wedged in the middle and poor scrawny Erik was on the back with my 20kg pack.

Despite being long, bumpy, squashy and death-defying, the ride was beautiful. The wind was blowing my hair, mountains ran along either side of us, the sun was getting ready to set and casting moody shadows across us and the land. Actually, it was a little arousing. Pressed between two warm bodies, the vibrations of the bike between my legs, Erik’s breath tickling the back of my neck. It had been a while since I’d had any physical contact after all.

We stopped beside a bar so that Mr Tok Tok could ‘stretch his legs’ fair enough I thought, buying them a couple of drinks was worth the ride. We got back on and made it to the Monkey Sanctuary hotel just after dark.

I was about to say goodbye to them both when Mr Tok Tok took charge at the reception desk, talking in Ewe so I couldn’t understand. I hated that, men thinking I am incapable of sorting myself out. The reception guy had then said in English that the room would be 46 cedi for a night. I told him no chance in hell and left. Tok Tok had stayed behind though and emerged five minutes later to declare that the new price was 24 cedi. I agreed and was shown the room.

The door was opened for me and inside were two beds.

“I only need a single” I told the man.

“But there are three of you” he replied.

“No no no no, one, just me, they are not staying, they are leaving” I insisted.

Erik and Tok Tok appeared. “But it is dark, we cannot leave now” Tok Tok told me, already entering the room to dump his back pack on a bed.

“Then get your own room” I told him

“But we have no money… and I got you a good deal”

“You got a good deal on a room for three that I could have gotten for a single room” I said.

“We cannot ride in the dark, we have to stay here, we have no choice” he told me.

Man did I get duped! I didn’t know what to do. What was the sensible thing for me to do here? I was a complete foreigner in West Africa, no body in the world knew where I was and potentially I was going to have to share a room with two men I did not know, one of whom is definitely large enough to hold me down.

On the other hand maybe these guys were legit. Maybe they really had just driven me out of the goodness of their hearts and I could not throw them out on the street.

I told them I need drink.

Not a smart time to start drinking. I was going to be sharing a room with two strange men who swindled me into this potentially dangerous situation and all I thought was how badly I needed that drink. Not just because I hadn’t had a drop in eight days, but because if I didn’t I may have turned into a nervous wreck.

Our dinner and beers conversation was worse than I thought it would be. Mr Tok Tok began by telling me how he would be an excellent husband to a white woman and somehow moved on from that to say that homosexuality is demonic. I tried engaging with this last topic but he dribbled out some bible quotes, every sentence started with “in the bible it says…” and it felt like arguing with the walking dead.

I faked some yawns and told them it was time for me to go to bed. The bill came and I waited for them to produce some money. The atmosphere was getting thick with tension until they magically found 15 cedi. I still paid for three quarters of the bill, but at least they didn’t get off totally free.

The boys sat out the front of the hotel room smoking joints while I hid my valuables in the pillow case I was using. I told them they are sharing the other bed and as soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep.

I woke up every hour from then on but eventually the morning came and the boys didn’t seem to have stirred all night. They insisted that I join the group going to feed the monkeys at 6am. I obliged and it was kind of a cool experience to have these little nattering creatures fighting on my shoulders for bits of banana. Mr Tok Tok however had ruined the mood again by playing a Mariah Carey church song on repeat. On the fourth play I told him to change it, he put another one on and repeated that one too. I finally had enough, said I had to leave but allowed them to give me a ride to the next town that actually had transport. We said our goodbyes; they got my number and called me everyday for the next few weeks until I left Ghana.

 

 

Mr Tok Tok on the left, Erik on the right