I thought "Deck 8? Nah, there's always someone up there. The dock? Nah, people pass by there all the time. Town? Sounds great." So I grabbed my laptop and and a good book and begin walking through the port away from the ship. The Africa Mercy enjoys a private dock with gates and security guards. It hardly feels like a busy port in Africa. But after walking for two minutes you remember exactly where you are. People are everywhere. In the port it is all young men. They work 12+ hours a day unloading cargo ships. Well, in reality they are just in the port for 12 hours a day. Everything shuts down from 1-3pm for a siesta. It's too hot to work during those times.
Within 5 minutes of walking I escape the port. There is a fleet of Zemidjans (small motorcycle taxis) waiting for a fare. They all stare at me hopefully. Probably planning exactly how the haggling process will proceed. I approached one and manage to communicate my destination. The Boulevard. He instructs me to sit down, but I wasn't born yesterday. You have to decide the price before you get moving. I ask him "How much?" in the worst French imaginable. He wants 2000 CFA ($4). I haggle him down to 1000 CFA. A local man would've paid 100 CFA for the ride, but I'm white, so that's just how it goes.
The ride is long and dusty. The Togolese government is borrowing money from Nigeria to pay for the reconstruction of the beach road. By the time we get to AKIF, you can barely tell I'm a white man under all the dirt on my face. AKIF is a cool place. It sells the best burgers in town. A little pricey, but it's worth the occasional taste of beef. I order this huge monstrosity that I can barely finish. The meat is spicy and every burger includes a fried egg and a lot of cabbage. While I'm eating and reading my book a man approaches me and offers some bootleg DVDs. I politely refuse, but he is persistent. He is convinced that I must be interested in a pack that contains every Angelina Jolie film ever made. Eventually I just ignore him. I stay a while longer and then remember that I brought my laptop and I decide to head to my favorite spot. A reasonably priced restaurant with free wifi.
I should mention what the 'Boulevard' is. It's a busy divided road that encompasses the downtown portion of Lome. It's the best place to go for local life. Always crowded, always open, and full of shops and restaurants. AKIF is on the eastern end and my favorite place is on the western side. Walking down the Boulevard as a white man is like being a worm lowered into a fish hatchery. Everyone wants a piece of you. The vendors hiss to get my attention and they shout "Grand Blanc Joe!" (big white Joe). I bump into people and manage to dodge the open sewers and Zemidjans rushing by. It takes me about an hour to reach the restaurant and I soak up all the local color along the way. One man stops me and informs that he is diabetic and that he has just run out of insulin. I point to a lit red cross (pharmacy) a few blocks away and say "If we go there, I will buy you some insulin." Just then he remembers that he left a few vials at home.
The waitress at the restaurant recognizes me now and she is always trying to teach me some French because mine is awful. She knows very little English so we don't get far. I pop open my laptop and immediately begin downloading some music. We can't do that on the ship, so when I get a chance I like to catch up on the latest albums. The customers at most restaurants are a mix of richer Togolese and white people, usually French. The people watching is superb. There are a couple of young attractive white girls a few tables away and I listen as some young Togolese men ask for their hands in marriage. I can tell they haven't been here long because they are shocked and embarrassed. A nurse friend of mine has counted 50+ proposals since February. The men know that white fathers don't require a dowry.
After I pay my bill I wander around looking for a Zemidjan to take me back to the ship. It's late and we have a curfew. I'm about 15km from the ship now, so I just offer 1000 CFA straight away and the driver tries to hide a smile. The ride home in the dark is easily the best part of my day. We zoom down the beach road, the wind blowing my thin hair and evaporating the sweat on my skin. On the right there are palm trees swaying with the dark ocean as a backdrop. On the left there are people, hotels, shops and Africa. On the long ride I think about why I'm here. My job is to make sure that the hospital has everything they need to provide the best care possible. My goal is to love every person I come into contact with. My heart is for the poor and needy. My vision is the redemption of relationships between people, nations, earth and Jesus.
By the time I'm on board again, my focus is restored and I wonder how I ever lost it to begin with.
