GOTTOGOTOTOGO

We passed through the Togo border with minimal fuss and without attempting to increase the road kill count on the way. The borders have become much quieter as the route we’re taking is a cross country one that we suspect rarely sees travellers. We both agree that the cities are to be avoided when possible and more adventure is likely away from the well travelled conventional route. Other than that I’ve had to have a word with Mick a couple of times about his music on his ipod that gets played whilst we camp. ‘Diverse’ would be a kind way of describing the quite often bizarre songs that seem to come out of his mini speakers in what must be a shuffle setting. One minute it’s all good with maybe a bit of David Bowie, the next it’s some hurdy burdy Danish/Swedish/Norwegian eurovision entry circa 1983. Back to togo then...we got through fairly late and started to look for a suitable place to wild camp out of sight. This proved difficult as there were people everywhere, as even on the most quietist stretches of roads there would be someone, somewhere. Darkness then fell and we had little option but to head off the road into what looked like a fairly quiet piece of farmland. Dinner and tea later sure enough some locals turned up to see who the two spacemen were. They got pretty comfortable and after what seemed like many offers to stay with them in their village we felt that if we didn’t then the village would probably just come to us. A short ride through the pitch black later we were introduced to the family, all four generations of them. The people here seem to have large families and they live together. I guess if you’re born into a large family then that’s what seems normal, plus of course you should get looked after when you become old. At first it was a bit awkward for us just sitting there on a rug outside their mud huts. With all fifteen of them just watching us I suppose it was the equivalent of us watching TV and waiting to be entertained. Mick kicked things off with his world map, showing them where we’d come from and where we were going. I doubt many of them had seen a map before as a question and non answer session produced little in the way of their geographical knowledge. Then it was my turn, this time with my micro French-English dictionary, which went down a storm. Body parts in English were a favourite particularly when I joked about my big white man’s nose and most of all a demonstration on why we call a flip flop a flip flop. Not quite as good as Micheal Palin does it on his travels but not a bad attempt all the same. In between these geography and language lessons I showed off my scorpion tattoo and we ate probably the freshest meal we’ll ever eat as the (live) chicken was showed to us a very short time before being offered cooked with onion and some sort of chilli. We slept in the open on the mat and by the time we were about to leave in the early morning more neighbours had turned up to see us off. I really can’t imagine any of this happening back at home.
More fun was to be had as we headed for Benin as Mick took a picture of the Togan president as he sped past in a army/police convoy. An angry policeman spotted him and took his passport and my camera that had been used. Some time later down at the local nick after threats of prison followed by “or money” we had these items back for nothing and were free men. During Mick’s very good ‘stupid European’ game I instructed him to show off his now knackered boots complete with soles that are hanging on by a thread which seemed to do the trick. With those two little adventures behind us plus a chance meeting with a Nigerian motorcycle club (one of the members Mick knew) we headed for Benin without further incident.