Togo > Getting to know the city of Lomé

I wake up before the alarm and have slept briefly but well. I pack my belongings and head to the courtyard for breakfast. After breakfast, Anani explains the itinerary and introduces the crew who will be accompanying us. Abdullah drives the bus, Toto cooks, and Abass is their assistant. Only now, with the light, do I really notice that the hotel is situated on the water—which makes sense, given the word “Lagune” in its name. We drive by bus to the center of Lomé. The bus is sturdy and sits high on its wheels. Inside it is comfortable, with good seats. The camping equipment is stored on the roof, and our luggage goes into a separate compartment at the back. As we approach the center, the streets get busier, with many scooters passing on both sides. Although helmets are officially required, almost no one wears one. At the boulevard perimeter—the ring road around the city—we stop at a bank to exchange money.

Togo - Street vendors at the Grand Market of Lome

I exchange enough for the entire trip. In Togo and Benin, the currency is the West African CFA franc, which is also used in other West African countries. With a thick bundle of cash, I leave the bank. We continue to the real center of the Togolese capital. At the Grand Market, we get off. The hectic atmosphere feels typically African—busy streets, stalls along the roadside selling all kinds of goods. Women sell their wares while balancing them on their heads, forming towers of bags or fruit moving across the market. It is impressive. This selling happens in the street in front of the main market building. Inside, on three floors, there are plenty of stalls. On the first floor, the focus is on the pagne cloths, beautifully arranged by the millimeter in stunning colors. Garments are made from these fabrics. From the top floor, I have a nice view of the busy market outside and take a photo through an open window. Outside, I walk to Lomé Cathedral. The striking pink-and-white church towers above the market. Originally built by the Germans around 1900, it has been fully restored. As I approach the entrance, a mass begins. I admire the simple interior and continue toward the beach, having to cross the busy main road connecting Ghana to Nigeria. It takes a while to find a safe moment to cross. On the beach, I see fishermen napping in the shade of their boats, while others repair nets. The air is stiflingly hot, and the thermometer on my backpack reads over 35°C.

Togo - The voodoo fetish market selling dead animals and voodoo ritual items

I pour some water over my head—refreshing. Behind the tall bamboo trees, it’s time for lunch. Bamboo logs are laid out to sit on. Just as everyone sits, lunch arrives. Four boys carry the chicken, rice, plates, cutlery, and even our cooler with drinks. I hope for them that there’s a shorter route through the forest and that they didn’t have to cover the same distance we did. After lunch, we retrace our path through the forest. At one farm, we are offered Sabadi, or palm wine. I estimate its alcohol content to be over fifty percent and sip only a little. Around three o’clock, we return to Prosper’s exhibition space for a coffee break. I buy a drawing from him. At the end of the afternoon, we walk in the opposite direction to a mountain peak. On a clear day, you can see Ghana, but today it is hazy. Just before sunset, we reach the top, with only a weak sun visible. In the evening, we eat at Prosper’s auberge in Kuma Kunda. “Silent Night” plays in the background, accompanied by djembe drums, while we are served roasted mutton. A musical performance with drums begins as well. It is a lovely Christmas Eve. The show is far more professional than I expected, with music, dance, and acrobatics perfectly synchronized. I enjoy it fully and think that it could easily fill concert halls in the Netherlands. The presence of over a hundred local spectators shows it is not just a tourist band. It is odd, though, that the performers focus only on us and two other tourists, while the locals watch from the sidelines. When the fire breather performs, it almost goes wrong. He demonstrates passing torches over his body—a voodoo ritual. During the act, he comes dangerously close to the thatched roof and to us; the fireball passes within a meter. We duck back. I get the impression the fire breather and the band members are not part of the same group, but they quickly apologize and check if we are okay before continuing with a new piece. At the last number, we are invited to dance. Lying in bed later, I realize that this is a Christmas Eve I will not soon forget.