The Long Arrival: September 4, 2009

Lome, Togo

After the cancellation of my connecting flight to Accra, I had joined a flight from Casablanca to Lome, Togo, which, I was told by airline staff, would stop in my destined city. The plane never did stop, though, and at 2am I was on the ground in Lome. A flight attendant informed us that a bus would take all Accra-bound passengers to Ghana, Togo’s neighbor to the left. Obediently, I exited the plane, leaving behind a dozen a livid Ghanaians who refused to travel in anything but the plane they were already on. I too was upset, but I knew from experience that African customer service standards sometimes differ, and complaining would very likely get me nowhere. However, in this instance, I should have stuck with the Africans.
Only the North Africans and Europeans left the plane, and instead of going to Accra, our bus took us to the customs hall, where unfriendly Togolese officials informed us we had to purchase visas. After about 40 minutes of arguing in several languages (not on my part, though; I just nodded my head aggressively every time the Moroccan women shouted something), an airline representative appeared and said the plane would be taking us to Accra. Eventually, customs agreed to let us through without visas, but in an effort to preserve bureaucracy, we were forced to exit the building through the arrivals hall, re-enter through the departures hall, clear security, and wait for a bus to take us back to the plane.
After a minute-long bus journey, we boarded for the second time that night. As we ascended the stairs, the faces of satisfied Ghanaians stared out at us from the airplane’s windows. A Moroccan woman next to me said something in Arabic and laughed. I asked her what she had said. She smiled at me and replied, “The blacks, they were right!”